Summary:Clint tests Kate's skillz at Coney Island. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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"You should consider yourself lucky," Are the words of wisdom granted from on high by the man known as Clint Barton. "I mean, I waived the franchise fee, I'm considering your appeal to the Hawkeye brand. It's only fair that I get a feeling for your skeelz." He even says it that way. Skeelz.
The sound of Coney Island in the evening is jubilant usually. Laughter, cheering, the hum of a crowd as it flows slowly past those myriad attractions and games of chance. There's the smell of corn dogs and fried dough in the air, and occasionally a clown or street performer passes by playing for tips as they work the crowd.
But it's near the Merry-Go-Round that fate finds the two Hawkeyes, standing next to the shooting gallery with BB guns set on the table before them. Behind the barker are a myriad of mechanical targets some thirty feet off. Little turning cactii, horse-riding cowboys, evil masked bandits ducking out from behind a boulder. Sometimes they'll even hear a mechanical voice shout, 'Draw pardna!'
"So get to work, kid."
"Seriously?" Kate crosses her arms with a tip of her head toward Clint as she settles one of her sometimes scathing glares on him. It's tempered by a bit of amusement however as she listens to him talk about franchise fees and the like. "Given the state of your apartment, I'd say you never think far enough ahead to even consider how to manage a franchise much less your own personal branding." Still, she was the one that had horned in on his name—Even if he'd been absent awhile. She couldn't argue too much.
"All right, all right. Carnie games it is," she agrees with a shrug, reaching up to sweep the length of her black hair into a ponytail. It's flipped over a time or two then pulled through knotting on itself instead of using a hair tie which she didn't have on her at the moment. It does the job though leaving the hair out of her face, and she slides her shades down over her eyes. "Set me up." She slaps a twenty down on the table then hefts one of the bb guns… and moves to another to which she gives a nod of apparent satisfaction. It's drawn up to her shoulder, she sights, and then twists to the side to adjust for the fact that the sight was off center.
Of course it was. That's how they win these things.
The first shot isn't great but it wings one of the cacti sending it spinning. The next? She adjusts again and hits a masked bandit square on.
Leaning against the table and resting one hand upon the frame of the awning, Clint watches as the young Ms. Bishop goes through her firing routine. She makes that first shot, adjusts, then starts to hit the targets square on. It's not bad yet the only expression Clint offers is a subtle quirk of an eyebrow in appreciation. Though his head is turned just enough so she can't see it should she glance.
Another few rounds are fired and she starts racking up the points. A few pings to one of the riding horses, a cowboy gets dismounted, a row of cacti start to fall. The little electronic score meter starts to tick up and it's enough to steal a slow nod from the elder archer. "Alright."
Sidelong the barker, a thin balding man with an unhealthy complexion sort of shoots a glance over at Hawkeye. Clint, gives a nod to the man, lightly touching a finger to the side of his nose in that classic age-old high sign signal. The carnie nods sloooowly with a wink and then ever so casually hits a button under the table. A button that kicks the targets into a higher gear and shifts their rhythm.
Perhaps to distract her from the somewhat more unfair game, Clint tells her firmly. "Keep at it. I want the panda." And he points at the rather over-sized stuffed toy.
The click and whirr of machinery was almost impossible to hear over the sounds of the crowd, the music of the fairway, the screams of those on rides. Almost. It's sublte, a little shift that she becomes aware of enough that her finger pauses on the trigger until the speed comes up. Ah. So it was like that.
Another ping, another target goes down, and she shifts herself to face Clint. The gun is lowered from holding as a rifle ought to be held and instead lowered down as she starts to literally shoot from the hip. "Really? Which one?" She asks oh-so-casually as she times the next few shots from the motion in the corner of her eyes.
Clint's lips twist into a wry smirk as he meets her gaze even as she makes those blind shots, the little ping-pa-pings sounding as each BB ricochets off their targets. And with each hit the features of that wan looking Carnival Barker sort of droop a bit more. He looks at first displeased, then angry, then a little distraught as she wracks up the points until he finally calls a halt to it…
"Alright alright, jeez Barton, what is she yer niece or somethin'? Bad enough there's one of you runnin' around."
Clint looks at the man and grins, "Not quite, Sonny. But I mean, she's just a customer, got every right to frequent your lil game of chance here. I mean… you could cut her a deal like you cut me and we'll be on our way."
"Yer killin' me, Barton! Killin' me!"
"Pfft," Is Clint's eloquent response.
"Alright, alright." The carny looks around, no other punters are coming over to his booth so he's got a window of a few seconds. "Here," And with that he pulls up an entire foot wide roll of prize tickets and pushes them over towards Kate."
"And the panda, Sonny."
"Fine, christ. Take the panda."
"Hah!" And with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas, Clint grabs the big five foot tall Panda and casually hoists it on his shoulder. "Thanks, buddy."
And with that he turns and starts to walk, "C'mon, kid. Let's take a walk."
"Definately not related to him," is Kate's response to the Carnie but she does lay the rifle down at least. It seemed her point was made. The exchange between Clint and the operator though earns a lift of eyebrows which only rise higher when he shoves over the roll of tickets to her. It's taken in hand looking a bit puzzled at first, though she quickly rolls with it. "Hey, thanks for the practice!"
A big grin is offered the carnie and she shifts her glasses back up onto her forehead with one hand while the roll of tickets is tucked beneath her opposite arm. The panda being offered over just gets a chuckle. "You're carrying that the whole time, you realize." Not that she stops him otherwise. With a nod of agreement she falls into step beside him.
"I'm not half bad with throwing knives, either, if you ever want to try that. I have been practicing for years. I usually pick up what I want to learn with practice." Which was quite a few things honestly. Ballet. Playing the cello. School work. She was an exemplary student.
"That's a handy talent ta have," Clint says as he walks, the Panda thankfully over the other shoulder opposite of her so they can converse without a mountain of fluff getting in the way. But then he lifts his hand and gestures to a distant bench that has a decent view of the beach and the ships off in the water.
"C'mon, let's have a sit down and you can tell me what all this is about then, alright?" He closes that distance with a few strides, casually turning his shoulders to slip around some people in the crowd. Though when he reaches the bench the big bear is set down in one of the seats next to Clint, conveniently making it so no one will try and steal the third seat while they're chatting.
One hand thumps on the bench as he adds, "C'mon. First thing though, before we go any further." The blond-haired blue-eyed man looks at her, expression gauging as he asks, "What is it you want out of all of this, Kate Bishop? What's your end game?"
End game? There was a good question, really. Kate sits down and shifts the roll of tickets to the side with her purse to size it up. It was a big purse as was the fashion, and it juuust might fit. She's busy shuffling them inside while taking a moment to gather her thoughts.
"Hard to answer the last without answering the first." A puff of breath is exhaled. Leaning her head back she stares up at the sky squinting against the light. That's given up real quick.
"You remember those guys you rescued me from when I was a kid? They weren't just random guys looking to kidnap some rich kid for ransom." A deeper drawn breath is taken. The side of her jaw sets, but she continues. "I love my dad. I always looked up to him. I did everything I could to be good in school. I aced all my tests, my extra curriculars were exemplary. I just wanted to help with the family business. He never took me seriously. He'd always make me leave the room when talking with clients, or put off visiting him at the office for another time."
"So I followed him one day. Turns out the 'family business' wasn't what I thought." Her head turns to look toward Clint. "He's a crime lord of some kind. Those guys that got me were his competition, and stupid me, I walked right into it."
"Everything I always thought was just turned upside down. I was lied to. Always lied to about everything. He wasn't some great guy. There was no 'family business' to look forward to helping run. He's a criminal, and I was just a stupid kid who looked up to her dad for no real reason."
"Do you know how angry I was? I wasn't scared. I was furious. I felt helpless and I don't like that. He was one of the bad guys I was always told to avoid. … Then you and some others come sweeping in to save me."
"You. Clint Barton." A hand lifts to thump against his chest lightly. "Just a normal guy. But you were fighting, too. You weren't super strong, or super fast, or able to fly or shoot lasers. Just… a guy. Like me. I realized if you could fight against the bad in this world, then so could I."
Clint sits there as she speaks, letting his gaze focus upon the water and the distance, giving her the time and space needed to tell her story. At points he'll nod, others he'll glance over. But when she confides in him about the family business he looks at her anew as if through a new lens. But she continues and his lips part with a small 'ah' of recognition, perhaps understanding.
"Hey…" When she thumps him a bit he smiles a little and looks at her sidelong. "I have… powers. Sort of." He says, "Mega-Charisma. Strong… fashion sense?" A beat then he adds, "Punctuality?" Reaching a bit there.
"But I see what you mean." He draws his lower lip between his teeth to worry at it for a time, then looks to her askance, "It's good you want to make a difference, Kate. And good you want to… resolve things with your dad. But that doesn't necessarily mean you should dive feet first into this life."
He holds up a hand to stave off any quick protest as he adds, "But. There's a but. I'm not going to tell you you can't, or heck you shouldn't. I just… I think the best thing I can do for you is to tell you what you're in for with this life, right?"
Kate Bishop was about to protest at that remark. There's an obvious fire in her eyes that might be easily recognized as stubbornness. Though when he ammends the remark with a but she at least settles down to listen while regarding him dubiously. "That's fair," she finally agrees with a nod. "I know it's not an ideal life but it's…" There she falters at the half-truth. "Honestly it's great so far. There's times it's stupid and dangerous, but it's also amazing. Everyone should try being a superhero at least once in their life."
The grin that splits her face is wide with the enthusiasm of youth. Even so it softens as she has to agree, "But it's also very dangerous. I've found that out numerous times already."
"It's not so much just that, you know?" Clint says as he streeeetches back and then oh so smoothly slips an arm around the Panda's shoulders as if he were Greg Brady. He boops it on the nose with a finger, then looks back to her. "It's more… there are a lot of trade offs made."
He uncurls a hand towards himself, "Stop me if you've heard this before. But my whole… thing, it's a one in a million story." Probably more rare than that. "Grunt in the military, gets picked up by intel, starts doing errands for SHIELD and then all of a sudden I'm an Avenger. It's a crazy thing. Right?"
He chews on his lower lip somewhat and looks off towards the ocean, then back to her. "I mean, I feel sorta like how I imagine those NBA guys feel when some kid comes up to them and tells them they're good at shootin' threes. Sure that's great, but that's not all there is, and that heeey maybe they should have a backup plan instead of selling their house and moving to live near the practice camp."
That had some sense to it. Imagine that, logic from Clint Barton. "Yeah, you're right there. I know that. I'm still in finishing school though I opt to spend most of my time away from the campus. Given what my dad pays to have me attend they can suck it up. But I've got contacts out there, and avenues I could pursue. I could go into business like I originally planned."
"I also play the cello, and dance. I could easily teach those if I felt like it. I'm not just sticking to one skill even if the others aren't really main strea, either."
"Well, here." Clint furrows his brow as he leans forwards, fingers interlacing before him as he rests his forearms on his knees. "I think… you got a lot of bridges to cross before you can make a strong choice about what to do with your life."
His blue eyes shift towards her, trying to meet her gaze and for once she can see a hint of what lies behind them. No casual bravado or wry wit offered in rejoinder. There's just some measure of concern, a sort of look that pups in the pound might see from people who were walking the kennels but couldn't actually adopt any of the poor critters.
"No harm in training. Do what you want with that. If you really want, maybe I can help you some. But before you go too far down the road of…" He flares one hand, as if indicating the entire world of madness that he lives in. "All of it, you need to figure out yourself. How your dad fits in your life. What you're going to do, if anything."
His brow knits as he looks away, then back to her. "It's a cold enough world, Kate, without goin' against one of your own."
But then he straightens and gestures towards her, "Not that I'm advocating you go into the family business. Just… man. It's complicated."
"I know." The response is just said quietly as her expression turns somber, and thoughtful. Pursing her lips together she glances up to meet his gaze with her own unwavering. "I'm not planning to take him out. I generally try to just steer clear of that. There's enough stuff out there that I don't need to do that. Not yet at least," she adds as she was aware it might some day become a problem she has to deal with.
"I'm already involved in a lot though. I work with the Young Avengers. We're head quartered in the Baxter building… They kind of took us in offering mentorship. Ben's pretty great at handling a grill, too." Hey, burgers were always good. Especially for teens who were always hungry.
"I've fought *gods* already. I mean, I don't know that they're actual gods, but the stuff they could do… I wasn't about to argue with what they call themselves."
"I'm not sayin' you're incapable, Kate." Clint keeps his posture, hands together and leaning forwards. "More that while you're doing this, even with all the success you're achieving, that's great. But your core, your base, is going to be figured out by getting through whatever it is you gotta get through with your father."
He straightens a little, "Not to say stop doing what good you can I suppose. If you're already out there and have back up, a team, support. Try and get that mentorship and training. Variety is good. Heck you prolly don't even need me."
He crinkles his nose and straightens a little. "Just, I've seen things like this deal with your dad. It always. Always always comes back at the worst time and causes things to come crashing down. Get your house straight, kid. Before trying to change the world."
Kate Bishop tips her head to regard Clint with a single eyebrow raised a little at that. A hint of a smile creeps over her. Lightly she elbows his side. "Hey. I stole your name. I might not *need* you around, but that doesn't mean I don't *want* you around. Even most of my teammates have abilities of some sort. I could always use tips from someone who's been through the same situation. Or close enough."
"… I'll figure out what to do about my dad. Eventually. I do think about it a lot." She pauses there, again, then adds, "I'm glad you showed up again, Clint. Sorry for sniping your name. I can change it if you really want."
At the last few words she gives him he sort of crinkles his nose and waves a hand aside, "Ehn, if you were lousy or a jerk I might be annoyed, but it's not so bad. Mebbe if we start to run together we might need to figure something out, but way I see it we should be good. And heck might confuse people."
The blond man's lip twitches as he looks away, imagination wandering before he adds. "Might also drive Cap a lil bonkers, so there's that."
"So while we're here, kid… you got any questions? Anything you want to know? Now's the time while I'm still in a good mood because of the panda bear."
"Just one for now." Kate lifts up her purse which was filled to the brim with the roll of tickets. "What am I supposed to do with all of these?"