Chapter Text
For Kate, the end of the world was a common occurrence. Aliens, killer robots, and the general mortifying daily reality of being a teenager were not new concepts.
Still, she found it slightly surprising how she immediately froze when her science teacher evaporated into thin air.
“Kate?”
It’s kind of funny how fast things can change. One second she’s a little girl gathering board games and the next there’s an alien invasion.
“Kate?”
One of the school’s secretaries has a hand on her shoulder. Kate feels a twinge of guilt nip at her for not remembering her name.
“Yeah?” Her voice sounds wrong. All gravely, as if she hasn’t spoken in days.
The secretary’s lips pull back into a small smile that Kate thinks is supposed to make her feel better.
“Your mom is not answering, is there anyone else we can call?”
One second she’s failing a pop quiz, and the next she’s an orphan.
Kate spends the next week being shuffled between social worker waiting rooms, her mom’s lawyer, and behind her computer screen.
The world ended and people won’t shut up about it.
People who haven’t lost anything write about perseverance while looters are smashing windows less than a block away from Kate's home.
Kate’s only consolation is an email from her aunt Moira promising to come back from Florida “as soon as they let passenger planes fly again”. Which doesn’t seem very soon to Kate.
After spending an unhealthy amount of time laying in her bed, Kate eventually manages to drag herself out of the house to do something. Anything at this point.
She doesn’t plan it. One second she’s walking home from the archery range, the next she hears a scream. The next thing she knows is that her arrow is in some asshole’s hand, and she’s being hugged by a college-aged girl who reeks of cheap alcohol.
The world ended, but Kate’s still here.
Kate doesn’t usually read the Daily Bugle. Honestly, she doesn’t read newspapers at all. But when the front page contains a grainy purple silhouette and the headline reads “Hawkeye’s Back” and…
Oh. They think she’s him.
Maybe some other aspiring vigilantes would be upset over this clearly disastrous branding issue, but Kate grabs every copy she can find and places them in a neat pile under her bed.
Kate spends the next three weeks in a haze of arrows and rooftops. The world is in chaos and this is the only thing seems to make any sense anymore.
She’s in the middle of stopping an armed robbery when they first meet. A man in a black outfit and mask that covers the lower half of his face. Jumping down, slashing the gun away and knocking him out with the butt end of his sword.
Her fingers twitch and she resists the urge to fiddle with her own purple mask. Kate keeps an arrow knocked and aims at him instead.
“Black leather? Be careful, you might cut yourself with all that edge.”
The masked man turned away from the robber to face her.
“One, this isn’t leather. Two, have you taken a look at what you’re wearing.”
“What’s wrong with purple? It’s a great color!”
“Nothing wrong with purple, you’re just wearing a lot of it.” He takes a step forward.
“Stay back.” Kate pulled back on her bow that she had previously let slack.
“Listen, I don’t know you, but you’re messing with dangerous people. Go home before you hurt yourself.” Another step forward.
“I’m warning you!”
The masked man darted forward - Kate released her arrow.
A clash of metal sounded as a sword bashed her arrow out of midair.
Oh, futz.