Chapter Text
Kate grinned, lining up the shot with almost impeccable timing. The arrow flew home, a resounding thunk sounding as the member of the Tracksuit Mafia was pinned up against the wall by his green tracksuit, causing him to drop his gun. She knocked another arrow as she strode over to the dude, who, for his part, was positively quivering.
“God, the easy part’s over now, I’m really gonna miss it. What’s your name, bro?” Kate asked. She lounged against a desk beside her, letting an easy smile slip onto her face. (She kept the arrow knocked.) The desk was cluttered with objects used for art. She assumed the place had been an open artist studio before the TSM took over.
“Erm, Sergei. Yes, my name is Sergei. You are the new Hawkeye, bro?” Sergei said, fumbling his words slightly, not sounding sure of his own name.
Kate put on a look of mock outrage, placing her hand over her heart. “Oh how you wound me, Sergei. The “new Hawkeye”, no, I am the Hawkeye. The other guy is the old Hawkeye, because he’s old.” If only Clint could hear her talking now.
“Oh. Well, it is pleasure to meet you, Hawkeye,” Sergei said, looking grateful to get off with only a slight reprimand.
“Likewise, likewise. How are you doing, Sergei?” Kate cocked her head to the side, attempting to look as genuine as possible. Clint probably would’ve beaten his way to the point, but Kate found interrogation was easier like this.
“I’m okay, bro. Besides being pinned to a wall, my life is good. My wife loves me, my children love me- but my boss won’t love me anymore, no, no, no-”
“Why wouldn’t your boss love you anymore?” Kate asked, a frown furrowing her brows. Closer to the jackpot.
“You see, my boss, he is a- well, a picky man, you know bro? And, I mean I’m talking to the enemy right now so-”
Kate cut Sergei off. “Fisk considers me his enemy?” Sergei flinched. “Wow. I don’t know whether to be scared or honoured,” she mused.
“Scared, Hawkeye, you should most definitely be scared, bro.” Kate sighed. All of these tracksuit dudes were the same. Completely and utterly terrified by their boss.
“Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Fisk. Who else, bro?” Kate deadpanned. She could see why Fisk chose to hire these men, they would undoubtedly follow his every word without questioning it due to their density.
“I do not know, bro. I’m telling you, really, I do not. He- he has an assistant, a man who handles all his meeting and-”
“Name, Sergei, I need a name.”
“Bro, he has a weird name. It is something like Was or Wes-” Sergei started.
“Wesley, correct?” Kate assumed. She had heard the name from other Tracksuit Mafia members.
“Yes, bro. How did you know?” The Russian asked.
“I have eyes everywhere, I’m Hawkeye!”
“Oh. That’s cool, bro.” Kate inwardly rolled her eyes. Interrogating these idiots never went well.
“Where can I find Wesley?” She asked.
“I don’t know where he lives. I do not think he actually lives anywhere bro. It is crazy, he is everywhere, always moving,” Sergei said, explosive facial expressions following every word.
Kate thought for a moment. If the man was constantly moving on business, he must be going to a lot of meetings. “Okay then. Bro, could you tell me where he will meet anyone next?”
“My boss will kill me and my family, he’ll kill my children, my wife in front of my eyes- Hawkeye, you can’t let it happen!” Sergei pleaded. Kate thought she could see a glistening shine over his eyes.
“I won’t. Trust me, bro. Now, can you please tell me where Wesley will be meeting someone? Anyone? It doesn’t matter who, he just needs to be there,” Kate pressed. This piece of information was vital, she had already wasted months searching for the mysterious Wesley.
“You promise?” Kate nodded. “Okay, there is meeting going down on 96th and 1st. One week. I don’t know what time. I do not know why, I heard one of the bros talking about it,” Sergei explained.
“That’s the disused Shell station,” the archer muttered to herself. “Well, Sergei, there are three things I could do here. I could leave you here for either your boss or the police to find you. I could let you go, let you run back to your family. Which you undoubtedly want, however that would put you at risk with Fisk. So, the most logical option is- Sergei?” Kate watched in horror as the man started seizing violently, red light crackling around his body. As she reached out for him he crumpled, his tracksuit ripping from where it was pinned to the wall behind him as he fell to the floor. “What- bro? Come on Sergei, wake up!” She felt for his pulse, relieved to feel it beating (albeit weakly) beneath his skin.
“I wasn’t going to kill him.”
In a flash, she had grabbed the object nearest to her (which just so happened to be an open bottle of paint), spun around, and chucked it at the owner of the voice.
“Ow, сука ! Dammit Kate Bishop, why did you get better at throwing?!” Kate stood, slowly beginning to recognise the voice. A slow smile stretched her face as she took in a paint-splattered, frowning, Yelena.
“Because I trained!” She said indignantly. “Holy shit, I just hurt you though-”
“No you did not-”
“I did, because look you’re clutching your head- oh my God, are you okay?” Finally Kate’s instincts kicked in. She moved over to Yelena, slinging her bow across her chest and dropping the arrow back into her quiver.
“Kate Bishop?”
“Yeah?”
“Catch me.”