Chapter Text
All things considered, laying down on the pavement of a Hell’s Kitchen Loading Dock wasn’t the worst way to go. No trash to inhale on your last breaths, which also meant no unwanted interactions with New York City’s most hated rodent population. Kate’s only wish was that she was able to see the night sky, rather than staring up at various shipping crates while surrounded by mercenaries that she and her team were most definitely outnumbered by. That and not bleeding out from a broken nose and stab wound to the stomach onto the concrete below.
She heard shouting around her, probably coming from her teammates trying to make their way to her through the onslaught of mercenaries they were fighting. Peter was flipping through the air, taking down snipers with long ranging webs and punching guys so hard that they left dents in the shipping containers and crumpled to the floor in a heap. He was pissed , doing his best to do the most damage without killing anyone and trying to make his way to her. She did her best to focus on him, trying to stay awake long enough to see him by her side. More gunfire distracted her, and she turned her head to the right with the sound of someone yelling her name.
Matt was the source of the yelling; he was high up on a tower of crates, flipping around like a fucking beyblade as he beat two guys’ heads in with bone shattering hits. In the darkness, his cowl made him look terrifying: if she was one of the guys running towards him, she’d be shitting her pants. After striking one down with a nasty looking head kick, Matt tilted his head towards her. With his heightened senses, he could definitely smell her blood seeping into the pavement below her. He jumped off the towers with no hesitation, grabbing onto the edge of a crate a story below and beginning to climb down while dodging bullets. Even from here, Kate could see the clear worry in his body language and he tried to get to her. Seeing DD, who was usually the most composed (which for Team Red really wasn’t saying a lot), being so visibly worried was enough to snap Kate out of her observations and back to herself.
The shing of katanas and the unmistakable squelch of sliced flesh was the only indication of Wade’s presence somewhere near her. Kate’s best guess was that he was approaching from behind her, and she hoped that he was still in one piece. Not like it wouldn’t just grow back , she thought morbidly. Jesus, she had gotten a little too comfortable with Wade’s freaky abilities. The katana noises were getting closer, as were the bullets that Wade had switched off firing to hit targets from farther away. They were doing well, all things considered; four versus fifty was a hard battle, especially when one of your own is down and losing too much blood to be safe by the minute. Doing her best to put pressure on her wound, Kate silently cried out at the feeling of her hand pressing around the knife, hoping to staunch the bleeding until someone got to her. God, being human right now was not helping her. She wished she could heal quickly like Peter or Wade, or at least have the ability to sense where everyone was like Matt. But no, all she had was her bow, her arrows, and an unyielding desire to kick ass. And kick ass she would. In this case, the kicking ass was gonna be trying to save her own life.
With a new sense of determination (or adrenaline rush from quite literally bleeding out), Kate began raising her head and lifting herself onto her shoulders. “Alright, let’s assess and destress,” she said to herself, hoping to bring some semblance of control to the situation. Hoping that her stomach didn’t look as bad as it felt, Kate forced herself to look down. This was a terrible decision; her stomach immediately rolled at the sight of a hunting knife hilt buried into her stomach.
“Oh, that is so not good,” she whimpered as she shifted slightly, feeling an onslaught of pain just from the small movement. In a moment of clarity, she wondered if she actually had any chance of making it out of this one. Looking back up at the scene before her, she could see Peter and Matt were still just as far from her as they’d been before. Wade was nowhere in sight, but she could still hear him kicking ass. She had to hold on. Just a little longer. Looking down at the knife in her stomach, she decided to lean back down on the ground and stare at the night sky, returning her hands tightly around the wound.
Well, shit.
–
Kate’s first introduction to Team Red was having her ass saved by Peter Parker.
It was back in February, and she was following a local street gang that was rumored to be establishing human trafficking rings around the city. The gang itself had connections to the Black Spades, New York’s up-and-coming drug and human trafficking, arms dealing, no good very bad criminal organization. She had never heard of them before the whole Christmas thing with Clint; after her mom was arrested, it was discovered that she and Fisk both had connections to a shipping company known as ‘Blackjack Imports.’ The company supposedly was responsible for ‘private transportation’ of high end art pieces, furniture, and overall rich-person collectables. Under it all, though, Kate knew it was a cover for something bigger. Fisk wouldn’t be fucking around with them unless they were really good for business. So, after saying goodbye and good luck to Clint and his third attempt at retirement, she got to work. It had become routine; propping her feet up on her newly un-burnt couch in her now un-burnt apartment, powering on her computer, and turning on shitty reruns of old Bachelorette seasons to keep her and Lucky company while she snooped through the internet for leads.
Turns out there are some perks of being the daughter of the CEO of an international security company. Unlimited access to surveillance footage, bank account receipts, and criminal records got her way farther than she ever could have by herself with finding the Black Spades. After two months of blank screens, clues that ran dry, and a constant urge to throw her computer off the fire escape, Kate found something. She had been surveilling traffic cameras in the neighborhoods where Black Spades members were reported to be seen in the past. They had virtually disappeared after the Christmas Tree incident, probably trying to cover their own asses after seeing Eleanor get put away. For a while, Kate thought she just might be going insane; looking at the same cameras over and over again like ‘Big Brother’ while the sounds of dramatic rose ceremonies droned on in the background. Even Lucky seemed bored, chasing his own tail on her shag carpet as Kate tried her best not to pull her hair out.
“Come on Bishop, surveillance doesn’t really work if you’re not surveying anything . ” She ran a hand through her wavy hair in frustration, continuing to stare at the footage of 10th and 51st from the night before. Lucky peered up at her with his one good eye, but she ignored the judgment. It had gotten to the point where talking to herself was a regular part of her night. Not like anyone was there to judge besides Lucky; the superhero business was surprisingly lonely at times. She couldn’t just call up her friends from high school and talk about the totally relatable subject of hunting down your criminal-mother’s ex-drug dealing coworkers. God, she needed some other vigilante friends. There should be, like, a book club or something. She repeated as much to Lucky, who was vastly uninterested.
“I’m serious buddy! Imagine talking to, like, Spider Man about Pride and Prejudice. That would be SO COOL. And, like, other people would be there too like Jessica Jones, or Bruce Banner or something-” With a sharp bark, Lucky interrupted her.
“Dude, I was totally talking. Even though you’re a dog there’s such a thing as manners-” Her words trailed off as Lucky angled his head towards her laptop, pressing the screen with his nose.
Then, she saw it. It was almost imperceptible with the street light being the only source of light, but it was there. Turning her brightness up to full, Kate rewinded the footage. The traffic camera her computer was locked on had a limited scope, but there was unmistakable movement of a black van in the corner of the screen. The van had no plates, tinted windows, and whoever was driving had turned the headlights off. Meter maids would have a field day with this guy , Kate thought as she watched the car slow down towards the garage entrance to the warehouse. The car quickly disappeared as the garage door shut, flashing the lights of the car on just as the garage door was a few feet from closing. Kate paused the footage quickly, enhancing the detail and zooming in as much as she possibly could. Although the garage door was almost closed, the headlights revealed five sets of legs directly in front of the car. It was blurry, but each of them seemed to be wearing the same pairs of cargo pants and black combat boots.
Kate looked at Lucky, who was already facing her and was radiating the vibe of I told you so .
“Lucky, we either just watched the beginnings of a boy band rehearsal practice, or we have ourselves a LEAD!” Throwing herself off the couch, Kate jumped up and down in pure glee before composing herself and clearing her throat.
“Okay, Hawkeye. Be cool. Surveillance gave you a lead. Totally normal. Follow the protocol.” Still on the couch, Lucky tilted his head in confusion.
“You know, like, protocol or whatever. Suit up, assess the threat, kick ass,” she explained to Lucky. “All part of the job. A few tricks of the, uh, the trade. Not that It’s a trade, It’s more of a business, but, uh–actually, you’re a dog and I’m explaining metaphors when I really should be going.” Hoping she didn’t sound as clueless and she felt, she went to suit up. “God, I need to make that book club happen.”
–
Even by motorcycle, it still took Kate about an hour to make her way over to Queens. It was close to eleven at night, but New York traffic never ended and her MetroPass had just run out of funds. Plus, the bike was a gift from Clint; old SHIELD property that he had removed the logo from and painted with dark purple decals. He gave it to her in February as a late Christmas gift, and she had cried her eyes out. ( “Jesus, Katie. It’s not a big deal. Just something small to help you get around.” “Clint, not to exaggerate, but this is more important to me than my own vital organs.”)
Kate had received gifts before; extravagant Christmas presents from Eleanor ranging from designer clothing to a literal pony. But none of those gifts ever felt genuine -especially as Kate got older and her mom became more of a criminal. The bike was the first gift that was unapologetically Kate : Sleek black hardware with purple stripes down the sides, an attachment over the handlebars that fit specifically to hold her bow. The front of the bike even had a dark purple ‘H’ (which Clint insisted he was forced to do by Laura, but Kate knew he had liked the design from the second the LARPers put it on their suits). As silly as it sounded, the bike made her feel like a real hero. It was way cooler showing up to a brawl on a badass motorcycle than taking an Uber.
Parking her bike in an alley a block away, Kate did her best to walk as inconspicuous as possible. She had just modified her bow to contract into a baton like Clint’s, which was incredibly helpful when trying to NOT look like a vigilante on a mission outside a bad guy hideout. She continued walking over, her black boots stomping on the pavement with nervous excitement. This was her first real solo mission and things were looking great! She had found the evidence all on her own, not fallen off of her bike when trying to park it, and was now doing Clint-level sneaking to a warehouse full of guys whose asses she was gonna kick. Pulling her ponytail tight and tucking her tendrils behind her ears, Kate slowed her pace as she arrived just a few yards from the warehouse. The building looked old : The building was constructed of faded brick with a rusty fire escape surrounding the building’s East side. The garage door that had been opened in the footage was one of two massive metal garage doors, both of which most likely locked from the inside. Above the front door, there were three windows on the second and third floors, all of which were covered by metal bars. Surrounding the rest of the building were classic warehouse windows, with small glass squares that could open up one at a time.
“I gotta hand it to them, this is a well thought out villain hideout. The health code violations must be insane . Like, record breaking.” Kate murmured as she looked for a way in. The front door wouldn’t work; she was a skilled fighter, but walking straight into a gang meet up didn’t give her the best chances of surviving. The windows were blocked by those stupid metal bars, and trying to crawl through one of the smaller windows on the sides of the building would probably end in getting stuck in one. She was flexible, but not that flexible.
“Come on, gimme a hand here universe.” Kate said as she peered up once again to try to find an entrance. There, on the backside of the building, was a rusty fire escape. It looked about ten pounds of weight from breaking, but it’d have to do. Taking a deep breath, Kate expanded her bow, hooked it to the holster on her back, and began to climb up the tetanus infested death trap.
–
The warehouse, as to be expected, was dark as hell. Having grappled up the backside of the building and silently slipping in through a second story window, Kate landed on the metallic floor with the stealth of a cat. Kate could barely see where she was going, but it was too risky to whip out a flashlight in a gang-infested warehouse. Relying on the stealth tricks that Clint had taught her, she began creeping around the various shipping containers on the top floor overlooking the shop floor below. Suddenly, the lights flickered on.
“Shit shit shit ,” Kate whispered to herself as she silently ducked behind a conveniently placed crate. After months in the superhero business, it was starting to feel like bad guys set up their lairs for cool hiding spots and superhero fights. Not that she was complaining, as the crate was keeping her hidden from the gang members that were now visible below her. From her view above, she could spot at least fifteen heavily armed men patrolling the warehouse, a few of which were patrolling around the same floor she was on. Clint’s training echoed in her head. “Assess the threat, look for weapons, determine next steps.” Scoping out the warehouse, Kate spotted six men on the floor around her, many of which were on the opposite end of the floor and congregating around the stairwell leading to the lower level. Determining they were far away enough for now, Kate scanned her eyes around the building. Every man had some sort of automatic weapon on them, as well as machetes strapped to their tac belt. Not the worst situation to be facing; the guns weren’t ideal, but if she could stay out of sight and shoot from cover she should be fine. Her thoughts were interrupted by a booming voice coming from below.
“Bring em out, boys!” a woman stepped out of the shadows, looking every bit like a classic villain. Her blonde hair was braided tightly, ending at the middle of her back. Her eyes were sharp and serious, one of them overlapped with a jagged scar that started at her right eyebrow and carried on down to her jaw. She had a beretta in her hands, a handgun strapped to her side, and what looked like a machete that matched with the other men strapped to her other side. Kate had to give it to them, they were all very consistent in their uniform. Kate followed her eyes to a large green shipping crate located towards the center of the room. With a harsh clank, two men opened the crate to screaming and pleading voices. Kate’s heart dropped as the men pushed out at least ten young women into the warehouse. Shit , Kate thought. This just got a whole lot more complicated .
The women were lined up as they were led (more like dragged) to the center of the warehouse, all of them blindfolded. Many of them were crying, and those who weren’t were trembling silently. French Braid walked over to the group of henchmen that had gathered around the women, ensuring they wouldn’t try to run away. Speaking quieter than Kate could hear, French Braid began giving orders to the men. They slowly began loading the women into a silver van that was backed into the loading dock of the warehouse. Feeling helpless, Kate watched as the women began being loaded into the van. Many of them were fighting against their captors, trying to fight for their escape. Kate almost unloaded her quiver right then and there, but she knew she had to be smart about this. Getting the women to the van seemed like the smartest option; get them out of range before fighting back. Kate mentally praised herself, feeling very Clint-like in her crime fighting decision making.
“Don’t cry ladies, this is a good thing. Getting ya out of the city for a long while.” Kate’s blood boil as she heard a man yell to the women. “Come on, just a little bit further…” Kate whispered to herself. The last woman was being manhandled to the truck. Almost there, almost there…
“HEY!” Kate flinched, moving her gaze and staring right back at one of the henchmen on the top floor who had spotted her. Shit. Guess It’s go time. Kate knocked an arrow and fired, hitting the man square in the chest and sending him over the railing onto the floor below. Quickly, Kate shot at two more men on the floor, hitting her marks as she began sprinting over boxes to avoid bullets spraying at her. The clomp of boots flooded her senses, and she realized just how screwed she potentially was.
“Get them! I want their head on a pike!” Jesus, French Braid needed some anger management classes. Kate would have told her as much if she wasn’t so busy fighting for her life. Ducking behind a large crate for cover, Kate knocked three more arrows to her bow, lifted her head over the crate, and fired down below. Two of three arrows landed; French Braid pulled a stop drop and roll that helped her to evade the attack while also, unfortunately, looking cool as hell while doing so. Cursing under her breath, Kate ducked back behind a crate once again and determined her next move. They were narrowing down her location, she knew it, and they were slowly cornering her into a section of the top floor. She had hit five–or was it six–bad guys so far. That left her with ten or eleven left, while also trying to keep the women safe. God, she wished Clint was here.
Hearing a break in the shooting, Kate stood up and fired two arrows quickly. Two thunk noises greeted her arrows, indicating that at least two more were down. Her victory was short lived with the sound of a machete being unsheathed behind her. Turning quickly and sweeping her leg out, the man behind her fell to the floor as she pounced on top of him and knocked him out with the edge of her bow. Determining that the guy was conked out, Kate rolled over him and began searching for a new hiding spot. That was too close. Stay focused Kate.
Turning onto the stairwell, Kate was met with three men a flight below with guns pointed right at her. Well, fucker. Bow already pulled tight, Kate stared back at the men.
“Love the outfits, you guys. Very camo core, you know, in a human trafficker way.” The men didn’t react. “Jeez, tough crowd.” With that, she released the arrow. Soaring through the air, the arrow expanded into an electrified net, capturing the men and effectively tasering them into unconsciousness. “Holy shit that was awesome,” Kate said as she continued down the stairs, already holding another electric net arrow taught in her bow. Five left.
Reaching the bottom floor, Kate could see the remaining five soldiers left, all of which were rapidly patrolling the area in an effort to locate her. She took out the nearest one with a shock arrow, not stopping to watch him fall as she set up to hit another target. She quickly ducked out of the stairwell, feeling a bullet graze her thigh with a hiss as she found cover behind yet another conveniently placed crate. There was no time to assess the damage, and her adrenaline was so jacked up that she barely felt the sting. Lifting her bow to hit another target, she came up short with the familiar click off of a safety that sounded behind her head.
“Move an inch and there’ll be lead in your skull.”
Well, great. Kate stayed perfectly still, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to try anything sneaky yet. She was pushed to the center of the room and shoved to her knees. The remaining five guys, all of which had their weapons trained on her, were quickly joined by French Braid, who had snuck up behind her in the first place.
“All right, gang’s all here. Literally. Except for the ones I took down. Sorry I ruined your evening plans.” If there’s one thing Kate could do, it was stall for time until she could figure something out. Problem was, it almost always resulted in some sort of violence. Like right now, where French Braid punched her across the face and caused Kate’s head to rear to the side. Ouchie . “I don’t know where you guys were at middle school seminar, but violence is not the answer.”
“Seems like we’ve got a talker. Wonder if she’ll be a screamer, too.” French Braid smirked down at her, and Kate was starting to see that this wasn’t looking so good for her. Her face was throbbing, the sting in her leg was returning, and she was quickly running out of options. Not to mention, one of the men had taken her bow and arrows and thrown them across the warehouse floor.
“Tell you what, guys. Let’s make a deal. You let those women go and I’ll help you out so you all get to experience the magic of Ryker’s Island gourmet cuisine. That’s a steal in my book.” Kate was met with another punch to the face, this time drawing blood from her cheek.
“Not sure I like that deal, Hawkeye, or whatever second best copy you are of the real thing.” Well that stung, more so than any hit to the face could. French Braid smirked, knowing that she had hit a nerve.
“I’m bored of this. Somebody finish her.” French Braid turned around, beginning to walk to the van. No . Kate couldn’t let them get away. Right when she was about to do something incredibly stupid, even while faced with the ends of five automatic rifles, the lights shut off. Not questioning whatever savior she had looking out for her, she rolled and began sprinting to a nearby crate. The men were firing their weapons, but as Kate ducked behind the crate she soon realized they weren’t aiming for her. Peering over the crate, Kate watched as they fired at the ceilings, then the walls. She watched in fascination as the men slowly stopped firing as they were stopped, or rather, yanked from above and sent flying. Squinting through the darkness, Kate stopped dead in her tracks as she caught a glimpse of someone swinging around the warehouse. Holy shit, it was Spider Man.
“C’mon guys, five against one? Doesn't seem fair at all. Let’s even those odds.” Jesus, he sounded younger than she thought. But his skills were unquestionable; she watched him practically flip away from bullets, all while in the air and shooting webs back at the assailants. Realizing that she should probably be helping out, Kate shot out behind the crates, scooping her bow and a few arrows of the ground before making her way to the van. French Braid was sprinting towards the drivers seat, seemingly trying to protect the ‘product’ even while clearly fighting a losing battle. Knocking an arrow, Kate hit her mark as the rear tires of the van was struck and began to rapidly deflate. Knocking a second one to hit the other rear tire, Kate was interrupted by being picked up and swung to the higher floor. Barely containing a scream, Kate managed to wobble on her feet before ducking under the spray of bullets. Jesus, they were still going?
“A little warning next time would be awesome!” Kate yelled under the sound of gunfire. Spider Man was crouched near her, looking back over the crates with a squint of his suit’s eyes.
“Sorry about that, Miss Hawkeye. Or just Hawkeye. Or Hawkgirl? Not sure what you want to be called–you know what, we could probably figure that out later. I’ve got the last three, you take the van.” With that, he was swinging back down to the fight as Kate found herself in the perfect shooting position to hit the front tires of the van. Taking a breath, she knocked an arrow yet again and found her mark. The front left tire leaked air like a faucet and she quickly ducked to avoid the bullet-ridden vengeance of French Braid coming from the drivers seat. Waiting for her to reload, Kate knocked a net arrow and managed to wrangle French Braid in it. Not hearing any more gunfire, Kate peered over the edge of the railing. Spider Man had finished off the last three, webbing them in some sort of cocoon that she never wanted to experience herself. She quickly made her way to the stairwell and down to the front floor, where she found Spider Man already unloading the van and helping the woman untie themselves. With a breath of relief, Kate began helping the women and directing them to the local police station.
Walking over to French Braid, who was still securely wrapped in her net arrow, Kate smirked down at her. Spider Man soon joined her side.
“Excited to try that prison food yet? You’ll have to write to me and tell me how it is.” French Braid spit at her in response. Kate did her best to not show emotion, but man was that gross.
“You will die, Hawkeye, mark my words. And I will be there to watch.”
“Woah, hey now. Say it with me now, ‘violence is not the answer’,” Spider Man piped up besides her. “She’s right, you know. Maybe now you’ll have the time to find a new outlet. I’ve heard inmate yoga is a big hit nowadays.” French Braid looked spectacularly unamused. Kate, however, was finding the back-and-forth way more fun than a simple “justice has been served”.
“Like I said, death is coming. Silas will make sure of it.” Wow, this girl really knew how to bring down the mood.
Silas? Who the hell was that? Kate looked up at Spider Man, finding that he seemed just as confused as she was. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of sirens. Turning away from French Braid with one last wink, Kate began to walk towards the entrance of the building. Spider Man, surprisingly followed.
“Nicely done, Hawkeye. These guys are usually a pain in the ass.” He said, his voice sounding surprisingly squeaky for a vigilante.
Kate straightened up, doing her best to look like she was walking with confidence as opposed to limping from a bullet wound. “Yeah, well, it's like no big deal or anything. I’ve been trying to take the High Road, try some de-escalation and communication. Not that it works all the time, or ever, actually. These guys need some serious help with controlling their emotions. They’re like emotionally constipated.”
Realizing that using the word ‘constipated’ during her first ever interaction with another vigilante, especially SPIDER MAN, Kate made the executive decision to cut herself off. “Sorry, I’m just still a little revved up, you know? Fighting crime and all that, you probably see it all the time in the biz–business.”
Even through the mask, she could tell that Spidey was amused. With an overexaggerated sigh, he responded with “Totally get it. I really should start charging bad guys per minute–a surprising amount of emotional trauma gets let out into the open during warehouse showdowns.” Spidey gave her a wink through his mask, the spider eye contracting in response.
“So,” he continued, “What brings you out to Queens on this fine night?”
Feigning nonchalance, Kate responded with “Oh you know. Regular vigilante stuff. Stakeouts. Beatdowns. All that jazz.” Hopefully he way buying the fact that she totally knew what she was doing and not rolling in shame for almost getting her ass handed to her tonight.
“Thanks, by the way. You really saved my ass there. Couldn’t have done it without you.” A fact that would keep Kate up at night, disappointed that she couldn’t handle one simple raid by herself. Still, she was grateful for Spidey’s help.
Now with the situation so spectacularly handled, Kate began to feel the effects of her injuries. Her face still stung from the hits, and her leg was wet with blood from the graze. Spider Man picked up on her leg injury, immediately stopping her and peering down at the wound.
“Well, uh, thanks again for the help Spidey. I’m all set from here though–what are you doing?” Kate hissed as Spidey leaned down and began inspecting her leg.
Without looking up at her, he responded with “Just making sure you’re okay. Looks like a deep graze, but I’m sure you’ve powered through worse.” He stood up, standing just a few inches taller than Kate. “Good work here, you saved those people”.
Not without failing first and having my ass saved , Kate thought in the back of her mind. She was disappointed that she had gotten cornered in the first place, but those feelings were beat out by her fascination that she was saved by Spider Man .
“Thanks Spidey. You did pretty good yourself. You always do good–I mean, on the news and stuff I see your contributions and you really do good work for people in Queens. Well, not just in Queens but also, you know, in the other boroughs too and stuff.” Oh my god she needed to stop talking. Even through the mask, to her relief, Spidey looked amused.
“Oh, well, thanks Hawkeye.” He seemed genuinely appreciative of the compliment. Kate liked this kid, she decided. “What’s your next move? Cops should be here in a few minutes.”
His nonchalance in calling Kate ‘Hawkeye’–like she was never supposed to be anything else–gave her a sense of accomplishment. Kate liked Spiderman, she decided. Maybe this book club would happen after all.
“I was gonna go get cleaned up and then head home for the night.” She truly was; it had become a sort of routine to patch up her wounds and fall asleep with Lucky watching TV with a half eaten pizza that would be devoured by the dog by the time she woke up.
“I was gonna head for a late night celebratory churro if you wanted to come along? There’s this really good shop a couple blocks away, and the lady who owns it usually gives me free ones, which, uh, is always nice. I can help you with that leg too.” This was turning out to be a really weird night; she went from conducting a solo mission to an offer to grab churros with Spider Man. Honestly, she had nothing else to do; weeks hanging out with no one but her pizza addicted dog were getting boring, and it would be nice to just enjoy the night instead of sitting in bed and determining her next move. She could give herself a night off.
“Fuck it. Let’s do it. I’m Kate Bishop.”
“Alright, Kate Bishop. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
–
After a successful night of churro eating and leg wrapping, Kate and Spider Man quickly became a sort of pseudo team in the absence of both of their mentors. Kate had been alone since Clint had entered retirement (again). It was rough at first; learning how to stitch up your own skin, hack into police radios, and bringing a bow and arrow to a gunfight weren’t exactly the type of thing that you could search up a tutorial for on YouTube. Spidey helped her learn the tricks of the trade, and Kate found that over time she didn’t mind accepting his help. Slowly but surely, Kate and Spidey formed a new friendship that revolved around kick-ass crime fighting and general badassery. After two or three months of partnering up on patrol, Spidey had lifted up the mask mid-bite of a swiss and pickle sandwich and introduced himself as Peter Parker, an eighteen year old kid with curly brown hair, freckled skin, and enough traumatic experiences to fill the Hudson.
It took Kate a few seconds of staring in shock for her to process Peter: namely, how young he looked.
“There’s no way you’re eighteen. You look, like, twelve.”
“I’m gonna move right along and take that as ‘Wow Peter! I never would have thought someone with such a mature and intelligent personality would be in such a young, vibrant body.’”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, ankle-biter.”
“Fuck off, Kate.”
“Language! You know, they don’t tolerate that kind of talk in middle school.” That had earned her a playful shove which quickly dissolved into an all out food night. Pickle juice was spilled that night in cold blood.
For the first time in months, up on that roof, Kate felt like things were maybe looking up in her shitshow of a life. After Eleanor was arrested, it had felt like the foundations of her life were cracking under her feet. She had done her best to glue the pieces of her old life back together, but eventually she realized that things couldn’t and shouldn’t go back to how they were. She would be a Bishop until the day she died, but it didn’t mean she would become her mother. She would save her name, her father’s name, and do some good for the city that her mom betrayed.
And now, it seemed, she had someone to help her.