Someone was using his name.
Names, Natasha knew, were not sacred. She’d stolen more than her fair share – was known by plenty of others. Natasha Romanoff was what Ivan would call a bastardisation of what her parents named a baby that she didn’t recognise as herself even in one charred photograph. Black Widow was a slur until she turned it into a title. Names meant nothing, just as people had no place, not really. They were temporary distractions.
But someone was using his name. That changed things.
There were some key differences, of course. She moved differently, seemingly from an alternate route of training (self taught, for some of it – learning from mistakes). She was a she. She was younger. But she was just as chaotic, just as determined, just as likely to piss off the mafia …
And she was using his name.
Natasha almost found herself respecting the girl as she watched her put down the last of the group. She’d been tailing her for a while, now, and she seemed aware of Natasha’s presence, which was rare – but Natasha had years on her side. The second she spotted an opening, she cocked her gun, training it neatly at the woman’s back. “I would advise not trying to fight back right now,” Natasha said, voice low. “Turn around, slowly. Hands where I can see them – and tell me who the hell you think you are.”
Kate had been watched before. There was a feeling that came with it, a fear that crawled up her spine and caused her hair to stand up on end. And she felt that here. Had felt it for the last block while she was chasing these guys down — but she couldn’t place the presence. She had chanced a glance over her shoulder a few times and had found nothing in turn. But that feeling, it never went away. She had been followed and watched before, but never by someone as good as whoever this was.
The fear caused her to move quicker. Her movements quickly becoming less fluid and closer to manic. Trying to finish this fight off before whoever it was that was following her, decided it was time to ambush her. (In her mind, she was already trying to figure out how quickly she could pull her phone out, who would pick up the quickest — who would be there the quickest. What was her move?)
But as she knocked the last guy, she felt the gun in the small of her back and Kate froze. No matter how quickly she could have done any of those things — it wouldn’t be faster than the bullet in the chamber of that gun. All the training that she had done, all the promises she had made to herself to never be helpless again. This wasn’t like she had fought this person and they had simply been better than her — though they were better at hiding than she had ever been. Coming up from behind with a gun — smart too. Kate never had a chance.
Raising her hands up, Kate kept her bow in hand — the only way she was dropping that was if she dropped. She was face to face with Natasha Romanoff. An Avenger. And all quips about her being Hawkeye and basically an Avenger were out the window. “I think I’m Kate Bishop? No, I mean I am Kate Bishop. And Hawkeye. Not Hawkguy.”
The gun was still in the air, but she was an Avenger — she couldn’t just kill her, right? But the humor... that wasn’t going to help, was it? So, Kate started talking. “My name is Kate Bishop and I’m twenty-one. My best friend died on a mission I was leading. I ran away from New York afterwards,” Kate started rambling, with no signs of stopping. The information, itself, while all true, had no real importance. Kate was using it in the hopes that Natasha Romanoff would be distracted. (That was possible... right?) “I left all my friends and family behind, and when I came back, my best friend was somehow alive.” As she spoke the last part, Kate moved quickly, moving to grab the gun and force it upwards and away from her body.