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Somewhere in New York, a cafe offers people a window to see two of its heroes sitting by each side. Clint Barton on the left. Steve Rogers on the right. “Level with me, Steve. What’s the point?” Clint sips from his plastic cup of coffee. “What’s Hawkeye if he can’t hit a D-tier nobody?”
“What is he to you?” Steve responds.
“Useless. That’s what.” Clint closes his eyes and his head slumps into his callused palm.
“Don’t say that about yourself, Barton. You messed up. It happens. Beating yourself up over one tiny mistake won’t do a darn thing for you or the people you’re trying to help.”
“Neither will a bow and arrow.”
“Clint–”
Clint raises his head and holds out his palm. “Stop. Just stop. I don’t need to hear this from you, Captain America.”
“Here we go...”
“The man with America’s greatest everything hasn’t got a right to say: ‘Oh, Clint, us heroes all have our ups and downs. Messing up at the one thing you offer to Earth’s Mightiest Heroes isn’t something to pluck your feathers out over.’ Jeez.” He takes a large gulp of his coffee.
While he drinks, Steve talks. “You missed one shot against a… Well honestly, I haven’t the faintest idea what he was. A luchador? Acrobat? Either way, you’ll move on. Life isn’t defined in a day. It takes time and willpower. You have all that in spades, son.”
Clint puts his cup down and lets out a sigh. “What a load of crap. You can’t even tell me what he looked like. That’s who I missed. If I missed an acrobat–whose name was Batroc the Leaper, for your information–then who am I going to miss next? Fatass in a suit?” He spreads his hands like he’s holding the sides of an imaginary plate. “Picture this, I take on the blob. Y’know, plump mutant guy? So big he takes up my whole vision. I shoot. I miss.” He throws his hands in the air. “No more Hawkeye. He misses one, he can miss another one. Misses a hundred, then what’s he good for? Coffee on the weekend?” He puts his hands on the table and leans into Steve. “My aim is all I have. Without it, there’s no point in being an Avenger. Throw me into Avengers Academy at that point. My students’ll just telekinetically stuff me in a locker.”
“Alright, that’s it, I’ve heard enough of this crap out of you, mister!” Steve’s fist bangs on the table. Everyone looks at them. Steve puts on a smile and turns to the customers. “Excuse me, everyone. Didn’t mean to disturb you. Enjoy your coffee.” He shifts his focus back to Clint. “Barton, I can see this is taking a toll. You should–”
A boy in a blue shirt with Captain America’s shield in the centre jauntily runs up to Steve and Clint. “Are you Captain America?”
“Hm?” Steve looks at the boy, whose face is lit up like a little sun, then glances at Clint, his emotionless face staring out to the New York streets. “Sorry kid, just got a common face is all.”
“Oh… Bye!” He dashes back to his parents on the opposite side of the shop.
Steve takes a slow breath in, then lets it out. “As I was saying–”
“Don’t brush off the attention to make me feel better.” Clint takes another swig. “That’s another thing. You’re that kid's idol. Whose favourite hero is Hawkeye?” He raises his brow and holds his cup in the air. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”
Steve holds his hands together, opening his mouth, but the words are struggling to come out. “We… We aren’t in this for the fame. We have a duty to protect our people.”
“Sure would be nice to be famous.” Clint tilts his cup towards Steve. “You had it easy, publicity was like a superpower that came with the serum.”
“Getting that serum won’t put you on the front page of the Daily Bugle.”
“I’m just saying, if you and Stark take it as well as you do, maybe it could do me some favours.”
“Doesn’t do Banner any favours.”
“Banner has the government on his ass twenty-four-seven. He’s not famous for his brain. Thank Hulk for it.” Clint sees Steve’s mouth open. “And don’t go saying it isn’t all it’s cranked out to be. How does that saying about a man at sea who’s never seen land go again?”
“You’re getting into your head too much.”
Clint tuts. He takes another sip from his cup, but can’t taste anything except for empty air. “Crap. It’s empty.”
“You should take a few days off.”
“Why not just cut me loose at this point.”
“If you want to feel like a sucker, fine. But there’s no chance I’m letting you sign out of the Avengers on account of feeling like a sucker. I can’t talk to you like this. Head back home, take a while to cool off, then we can have another go.”
“Why bother?”
“I said go home. That’s an order. I’ve got the bill, don’t worry.”
Clint exhales deeply from his nose. “Fine.” He stands up and walks over to the door.
Steve waits until Clint is out of the shop. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his flipphone. He dials numbers on the keypad and hits the ring button. As he holds it to his ear and listens to the looping, digital buzz, the waitress he ordered from struts over to him. “Enjoy your coffee, hon?”
“Oh, that was my friend’s.” He nods at Clint’s seat. “But yeah, he liked it. I’ll say thanks on his behalf.” He smiles at her.
“Here’s your bill.” She places a receipt on the table for Clint’s three black coffees, totalling nine dollars. “Will that be cash or card?”
“Cash, thanks.” He hands her a twenty dollar bill. “Keep the change. Get yourself a coffee while you’re at it.” He chuckles.
The waitress’ laugh is slightly louder and more animated in her expression. “Oh sweetheart, you are so kind.” She takes the bill. “Hey, forgive me for askin’, but were you talking with Hawkeye? Seen him clean up shop with some Russian gang a while back. Nasty fellas, I tell you.”
Steve nods. “I sure was.”
“Heard he was managing that Bed Stuy place now. Tell him Brenda said the next ones on her. Got that?”
“It’ll be the first thing he hears, Brenda.” Brenda leaves with the cash and the cup, leaving Steve to himself.
The ring stops. A woman’s voice is heard on the other end. “What did he do?”
“I’ll get to that, but first, I need a favour.”
That night, at the Bed Stuy apartment complex, Clint lies on his couch, staring at the ceiling fan. It’s not moving. It’s just sitting there, doing nothing. The stillness only adds to the living room’s lack of flair and upstanding character. A limp blanket drunkenly lies over the couch and under Clint’s back. The floor is covered in pizza boxes, empty soda cans and candy bar wrappers.
A click comes from the door. It swings open, welcoming its number one guest, Kate Bishop. Her long, dark hair covers her sunglasses. “Why do you have your bow on the door handle?”
“I’m using it as a keep out sign. You know, like the ones in hotels.”
“That’s dumb.”
“You’re dumb.”
“Your face is dumb.”
“You’re wearing sunglasses at night… when the moon is out. What are you doing here anyway?”
“Dropping off Lucky.” A dog with fluffy, grey fur runs into the room, panting and sticking his tongue out. He rips his leash from Kate’s intentionally weak grip.
“Uh oh.”
“Yeah, eat him, boy!” Kate cheers as Lucky jumps onto Clint.
Lucky digs his paws into Clint’s torso and licks his face. “Ow.”
“Pussy. Anyway, why would you use your bow to tell people to leave you alone. Just stick up a piece of paper saying: ‘Danger. Clint inside.’ Nobody wants to deal with a Clint.”
Clint holds Lucky away from his face and places him on the floor. “If you want a serious answer, I’m quitting The Avengers.” He keeps rubbing Lucky.
“So you can stare up at the ceiling all day? Not happening.” She takes the bow from the handle and chucks it at Clint. It smacks his face, but he doesn’t react with anything more than a subtle flinch. “You. Me. Roof. Now.”
“Leave. Me. Alone. Kate.”
“One way or another, you’re getting on that roof.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
Clint, Kate, and Lucky all stand next to the edge of Bed Stuy’s rooftop, bathing in the moonlight. “I have no idea how you did it, but you got me here.” Clint says, looking out to the nocturnal neighbourhood.
“I just know what buttons to press. Anyway, look over at that building straight ahead of you.”
“Thanks for narrowing it down.”
“Shh! There should be a bright target on it. Has a star. I want you to shoot it.”
“A star… okay.”
“What’s the matter, can’t make out a star at your old age?”
“I ever tell you about that time I shot Ant-Man off of a wasp? Janet shoulda thanked me for that one.”
“I call BS.”
“Call it what you want, doesn’t change the fact I’d kick his ass.” Clint scans the area for the target. He finds it almost immediately. It’s one he’s familiar with. “Found it. Here we go.”
“That fast?”
Clint readies his arrow and aims his bow. “That fast.” He lets go without taking a second to aim. Not that he needs a second. The arrow pierces the air, dragging the wind with it on its journey, whistling along the path to its target on the other side of New York City. “Got ‘em.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Cool… Good job.” Kate slaps his shoulder. “So, uh… you good now?”
“I know you and Steve set this up.”
Kate throws her hands in the air. “Busted!”
“This doesn’t change anything. Call him and say I still missed.” He wears the bow on his arm like a bag and leaves Kate and Lucky alone on the roof.
Kate turns to Lucky. “Yikes. Someone’s being a downer, huh?” She kneels down and starts rubbing his ears. “But not you, doggy, you’re a happy dog, arentcha!”
Lucky leans into Kate’s hands before jumping up and putting his paws on her knees. “Arf!”
She pulls one hand away and takes her phone out of her pocket. “Alright, hang on, boy. I gotta make a call.”
Clint reenters his abode, leaving the door open behind him. He drops his bow on the floor, walks up to the couch and falls forward into its cushy surface. His eyes shut and his face buries itself deeper. He feels firm, rapid taps on his shoulder. “What?”
“Talk to me.”
“Too tired.”
“I’m ordering pizza. What do you want on it?”
Clint drags his face out from the couch, turning to face Kate, then falling back in. “If you order that vegetarian crap again, I don’t want anything. I’d rather eat the dog.”
“Okay, one: Lucky is not for consumption. Two: I’ll just get half veg, half whatever you want. ‘Kay?”
“Sure.” Clint buries himself again.
Kate holds her smartphone to her ear. “Hi, can I place an order for a delivery?” The man on the phone says something in a deep voice.
Clint stays still while his attention latches onto the guy at the pizza place. Something’s off, but in a good way…
“Alright, thanks a bunch.” Kate taps her phone and slips it back into her pocket. “It should be here in thirty.” She bends down to meet his ear. “Hey, can’t you at least put on a fake smile and say ‘thank you Madame Bishop!’? Girls aren’t into the whole vibe you’ve got going on as much as you think.”
“Never wanted to impress you. Child.”
“Hmph”. Kate walks off. “I’m going to the adult’s room. If you want anything, don’t ask the little girl living with the grown man.”
As soon as Clint hears the bathroom door close, he drags his cellphone out from his back pocket and shifts from lying down to sitting up. He scrolls through his contacts until he finds the one saved as: ‘The Man’. He calls him. After three rings, there’s a click.
“Hello?”
“Why’d you do that?”
“Do what?”
“I’m not stupid, Steve. I know Kate called you.”
“...”
“Are you even listening?” Clint takes a moment to himself. “Of course you are.”
“I bet she didn’t even say anything.”
“Nope. Figured it out myself.”
“Good job.”
“Stop it. Anyone with a brain would know you had something to do with everything today.”
“I’m trying to help out.”
“Why would you tell me to go home just to test me? I hit your little shield and so you order me a pizza? I don’t get it.”
“I know how you feel. Felt the same way before I got the shield. Clint, listen to me. You don’t need to worry about this Batroc fella, or anyone else. You said it yourself, he’s a nobody. Against him, nobody really cares all that much. I’d reckon you just got bored fighting him and missed. Am I right?” Clint doesn’t reply. “Hawkeye is our trump card. We need you.”
“...Okay.”
“Alright then. Are you feeling better?”
“Think I need to sit on it.”
“Fair enough. Go easy on yourself, Clint. Enjoy the pizza. Oh–I almost forgot.”
“What, did you leave your shield on the roof?”
“Any Avenger worth his salt wouldn’t leave his things lying around, would they?”
Clint looks at his bow, limp on the dirty floor. “...Nope.”
“Brenda from the cafe said your next coffee is on her. Seems to me like Hawkeye is someone’s favourite hero.”
“Don’t yank my chain like that.”
“Believe it or don’t, it’s the truth.”
Clint’s face grows a faint smile. “Guess I’ll have to see for myself. Thanks, Cap.”
“Take it easy, soldier.”
Clint hangs up the phone. He sees Lucky sitting next to his bow, nuzzling it with his snout. “It’s alright, boy, I got it.” Clint leans over and picks up the bow. He stands up and travels to his practice room, filled with various equipment for his work. He sets the bow down on the workbench. Maybe he’ll come in tomorrow, fix up a few arrows for his quiver.
An hour later, Clint, Kate and Lucky are on the couch, eating their pizza and watching TV. The floor is rid of all the trash it was littered with before. The cardboard packaging for the pizza is missing all of Kate’s half, leaving a patch of grease at the bottom. Clint’s meaty side has two slices left from the four that it started with. Kate laughs and munches on her last slice of the vegetarian, while she feeds Lucky a slice from Clint’s half. Clint, unbothered by the two, sits at the side of the couch, holding one arm across the top and using the other to eat his slice while he lets the movie play. This is routine for them. It might not keep them happy all the time, but it keeps them going.