Chapter Text
Good grief the Bishop girl was annoying. That was the thought bouncing non-stop around Yelena’s mind as their captive just. didnt. stop. talking! Yelena had thought it was annoying when she had to carry her giraffe frame over her shoulder, but now they had her strapped down to a chair, in a dimly lit warehouse, and instead of being visibly afraid or breaking down, the girl just went into full motor mouth mode, drowning them all in a non-stop stream of consciousness. The only relief was that Yelena’s fellow widows looked just as put out by their captive’s… unique response to the situation. One had slapped the Bishop girl hard around the face, leaving a reddening handprint that was still clearly visible, but when the girl’s response was a glassy eyed ‘harder please’, they had elected to avoid attempting the same again.
Unfortunately, this did leave them with the slight issue of how to extract useful information from a girl who was a) not intimidated, b) clearly wouldn’t respond the way they wanted to torture, not that Natasha would allow that in the first place, c) was a significant enough person that taking too long would cause them all manner of problems, and d) clearly knew exactly what she was doing, given that for all of her endless rambling she had not revealed anything that could be exploited.
Natasha was obviously wrestling with the same dilemma. Yelena’s sister look older than her years, her face lined and her red hair beginning to grey. Evidently, she made up her mind, because she stepped forwards into the girl’s line of sight.
“Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, you….”
The rest of Natasha’s sentence was cut off by a supersonic squee.
“OH MY GOD! The Black Widow kidnapped me! This is so cool! I mean, did you have to hit me? You literally carry around tasers, and I definitely wouldn’t say no to some fun shock therapy! I haven’t had a good shock in so long…”
Natasha, clearly, frustrated, slapped her hand over the Bishop girl’s mouth, only to retract it a second later with a disgusted look on her face.
“Did you seriously just lick me?”
Finally stopping talking, the Bishop girl stuck out her tongue at Natasha. Yelena found herself smirking despite herself- the move was utterly childish, and entirely in keeping with the attitude little miss Bishop had shown, except for the fact that it clearly was an ideal response as it made Natasha, Yelena’s sister and world class spy, uncover her mouth.
“Well, I was just starting to gush about how amazing and hot you are- all of you, to be honest- and how cool it is to be kidnapped by an Avenger, then you tried to stop me, so what else was I supposed to do? Just stop- you clearly don’t know me very well! It’s my own personal superpower, you know! Everyone’s always said so- my mom, my dad, my friends! Even my dog- Lucky the Pizza Dog, in case you need to know- gives me a look when I get started. My friends say even he is amazed and horrified about how much I talk, but I know. I can see it in his eyes- he’s in awe, and just wants to be able to talk like me! Not to mention…”
The hand returned, and this time, despite Natasha’s grimace from where Kate clearly replicated her earlier maneuver, she didn’t remove it.
“Just… just stop. We know you work for Wilson Fisk. Now, just this once, we really don’t care that you are a criminal, working for another, bigger criminal. We know he has a Widow working for him. All we want from you is to know where she is.”
Having said her piece, Natasha removed her hand, now disgustingly covered in slobber, to reveal the Bishop heiress with a massive, shit eating grin plastered across her face.
“Iola never told me the great Black Widow has a hand care routine that would put most supermodels to shame. Though, to be fair, put you on a catwalk and you’d fit right in. I amen, god knows why its always Iron Man on the posters; he’s wearing a helmet for gods sake! You’d have thought someone would have said ‘wait, we have a borderline supermodel in the team, why don’t we use her?’. I mean, I’ve dated girls with less symmetrical faces than yours, and they earned enough to go to the stupid galas…”
Yelena was caught somewhere between cackling and groaning as Kate immediately launched into another meandering ramble about a girl called Morgan that she apparently once dated. Though, as the story became more lurid and established, very firmly and once and for all that Kate’s interest leaned towards girls, the groan started to win out. The fact that Iola was the one they were looking for was a good start- she had been one of the youngest in the organization, and while she would be older than the Bishop girl now it wouldn’t be by much. However, Natasha was clearly unsure what to do next as Kate proceeded to waste their time in a spectacular fashion. The other widows around clearly wanted to do something but weren’t sure what to do- the mission mattered a lot to them, but this sort of scenario was not something they really had an answer for. Eventually, Yelena stepped forwards, hissing between her teeth.
“Kate Bishop.”
Kate’s rambling stopped in its tracks and her head whipped sideways to look Yelena directly in the eyes.
“We are going to find Iola. And one way or another, you are going to help us, even if it’s as a hostage. So, stop delaying, and tell us what we want to know.”
Kate tilted her head to the side, considering.
“Well now, short and blonde, that is an interesting offer. How about this- we play 20 questions. You ask me a question, I ask you a question. No lies- and don’t even try. I’ll know.”
Yelena’s eyes widened, and she looked at Natasha, who just shrugged. Rolling her eyes, Yelena looked around at the other widows, who were all looking just as nonplussed. Sighing, Yelena crouched down.
“Very well. I’ll start. Where is Iola?”
“Fine. That depends on the time. Now for you, what’s your name hot and Russian?”
“Rachel Sloane. At 7:30 this evening?”
“She’ll be providing security for a shipment into the city. Did you get blipped?”
“No. Where will this shipment be talking place?”
“Several different locations. What did you do while everyone else was gone?”
“Found Widows. Read books. Spent time alone. What do you mean, several locations?”
“The delivery arrives in the city, then is separated into its more and less legal components, and spread out to minimize exposure. Do you like men or women… or both… or neither?”
“Men. Which delivery will Iola be supervising?”
“Impossible to know- she heads up the security, so she’ll make that decision when the delivery arrives. Do you find me attractive, Yelena Belova?”
Yelena stopped in her tracks. That was not a question she was expecting. Then, the full implications came clear. Her knife was out and held at Kate’s throat so fast Natasha barely had time to catch her arm, while Yelena’s other hand grabbed a fistful of Kate’s hair. Kate, rather than looking scared, just had a huge, smug grin on her face. Yelena realized, a second later, that she had effectively just confirmed Kate’s suspicions, and slumped backwards.
“How do you know my name?”
Kate’s smile became gentler, and more genuine.
“Iola talks about you all the time at sleepovers and girls’ nights. So, do you find me attractive? And, before you lie again, remember, I’ve seen your tells. Honesty, please, for once.”
Yelena let out a deep sigh.
“Yes, Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, I do find you physically attractive, and I did enjoy you winding Natasha up. How much time do you spend with Iola?”
“Oh, loads. Wilson’s great to work for, but it’s such a sausage party. Gotta find people where you can, and while I love Echo, she is not a great conversationalist! So, Yelena, would you go on a date with me?”
At this, Natasha interjected.
“Are you serious right now?”
Kate shrugged.
“Life is short, you are hot. And if I’m honest, the whole hot blonde Russian interrogator thing is really getting me going. So, your answer? And if yes, for my next question, what’s your favorite food?”
Yelena glared at Natasha for wasting a question, before groaning and looking back at Kate.
“I would not be opposed to a date under other circumstances, but given the current situation I’m going to have to pass. My favorite food is probably a Thanksgiving roast. Doesn’t it bother you that one of your friends is effectively a slave?”
The roast was not a lie- but nor was it a truth. Yelena had never given much thought to favorite foods, but when the question had been asked the answer had jumped straight from her head into her mouth without any gateway, as memories of Melina in Ohio surged to the forefront. Natasha clearly understood, her eyes softening at the words- something that Kate absolutely did not miss, if her truly incandescent beaming smile was anything to go by.
Yelena’s question had been framed with purpose; she had read Kate’s university transcripts, and the vitriolic hatred of that sort of control was clear. It was interesting trying to square the author of such work with a woman who would happily work alongside a subjugated woman.
“Oh. OH! You think she’s still on the chemical! Ah, I get it now!”
Kate was beaming with happiness as she squirmed on the seat.
“Don’t worry about that! Wilson learned his lesson on that during the blip. No mind control to be found here! We pay her, she does her work, and I hang out with her for free.”
Kate’s own return question was evidently forgotten, not just to the assembled widows but to Bishop herself. Natasha shot to her feet, Yelena leaned back, sitting on the ground, and the other widows gave muted but strong reactions. It was Natasha who spoke next.
“Why should we believe you?”
“Oh, don’t. I kill people for fun. But if you want to check for yourself, she has a penthouse on West 52nd Street. She’ll head there after the delivery.”
Groaning at the wasted time, Natasha started walking towards the exit. Yelena got up to follow her, only to be stopped by Natasha signaling for her to stay put. Most of the other widows filtered out with Natasha, leaving just Yelena and Sonya alone with their captive. Kate had barely opened her mouth to begin her rambling again when Sonya forcefully shoved a gag into her mouth, tying it up behind her head. When Kate’s only response was a very distorted ‘kinky’, Sonya couldn’t restrain herself any more and collapsed into laughter, while Yelena snorted and turned away.
It was also at that moment that everything went very suddenly and abruptly to hell. Sonya’s laughter was abruptly cut off with a loud thunk, and as Yelena turned around it was to see Kate, now standing like the overextended giraffe that she was, chair leg in hand and Sonya on the ground with a growing bruise on her forehead from where their erstwhile captive had clearly struck her with it with some force. Yelena’s response was fast and instinctual, her gun rising fast, only for the chair leg to fly across the room, knocking her weapon from her hand, bouncing hard off it and into her temple, causing her to drop, before flying like some form of deranged improvised boomerang back into the Bishop girl’s hand. As the darkness descended, Yelena could vaguely see Kate dropping the leg and walking towards her with a smirk.
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When Yelena woke, with a splitting headache, she found that her hands had been handcuffed together. Sonya was in a similar situation beside her. A flash of feral panic surged through Yelena as she glanced rapidly around, only for it to subside and mutate into confusion. Kate had cuffed them, but they were still in the warehouse, and alone. Nobody else was there, and aside from Kate making her getaway she didn’t seem to have done anything. Yelena even suspected the cuffs were more for Kate’s own amusement that because she wanted the extra lead- the girl had been very well informed on the widows, and Yelena doubted that knowledge would have led her to believe they would be overly inconvenienced by cuffs.
This suspicion was confirmed when she saw the clip, abandoned on the ground next to the chair. A clip that Yelena was absolutely certain didn’t belong to any of the widows. Yelena almost giggled; it appeared that Kate’s eccentric fangirl routine had been good enough to distract Natasha from the fact that she was a mob assassin, and Natasha had failed to check her thoroughly enough. And leaving it here was sending a message.
Yelena took her time getting out of the cuffs- the presence of the clip meant she didn’t need to maul herself to do it, which she appreciated, and when she had released her hands she retrieved the key and unlocked Sonya- the other widow was stirring, but had a nasty purple bruise on her head that would need some ice.
Then, Yelena heard a buzz. Narrowing her eyes, she moved over to its source, and on the chair she found her own phone, vibrating with a text alert. Opening it up, she found that someone listed in the contacts a ‘Hot Ostrich’ had sent her half a dozen messages. Sitting down, Yelena pondered how she should respond. On the one hand, she and another widow had just been roundly humiliated by a rich girl with a chair leg (which was conspicuously back in its normal place- which made Kate Bishop the sort of person who would quickly disable two widows with a piece of lumber, only to then spend the time reattaching it and fixing the chair when she could have been making her escape. In other words, completely consistent with everything else about her) and had been cuffed with her own cuffs, which was seriously uncool. On the other hand... there wasn’t another hand. Which made her current conflicted feelings nonsensical.
She did eventually send a message back to the ‘Hot Ostrich’, and was within seconds barraged by a series of emojis, followed by a message containing a dinner reservation. Upon googling the restaurant in question, she found that it was known for its turkey roasts. And it was at this moment that Yelena just stopped trying to build a coherent picture of Kate Bishop.
And when Natasha and the others returned, having found that Iola was quite happy where she was and lived the high life in New York, they found a mildly concussed Sonya and an exasperated and bemused Yelena trying to decode the increasingly baffling chains of emojis that were being sent over at a rate of knots.