fortress | kate bishop

twenty-four.

2024
Manhattan, New York

Snowflakes drift gently down, coating the rooftops of New York City with a pristine layer of white. Around the city, there are bustles of holiday cheer, unaware of the imminent clash that will unfold.

Anya stares at Clint wearing his signature purple suit and armed with his bow and quiver, he locks eyes with Anya. She had admired him. She didn't really know Clint, didn't see much of him, but she admired him because Natasha had. Because he'd saved her. She'd admired him because Kate had.

She didn't admire him. She didn't respect him. She wanted him dead.

"I want a confession," Anya states, "I want you to confess to what you did."

"Anya," Clint says, "I'm sorry about what happened with your friends-"

"I didn't ask for an apology," Anya interrupts as she walks closer to Clint, "I asked for a confession. Tell me what you did. Tell me how you stabbed ten women in the back. Tell me!"

"I can't tell you," Clint states.

Anya tilts her head, "Why? You don't want to look bad in front of your friends? They don't care Clint. Even if you're a murderer they will protect you so why don't you detail it? Let everyone know what they're fighting for."

"I don't remember," Clint confesses softly.

Anya stares at them and a laugh escapes her, "Wow, that much blood on your hands, and you can't even fucking remember it. Even Bundy and Dahmer could remember their victims."

"I'm not going to excuse my actions," Clint says, "I'm no better than the guys we fight."

"On that, we agree," Anya states, "If you won't confess, then I suppose I'll just have to get it out of you."

"It's Clint Barton!"

Anya looks over to see Maya's Tracksuit Mafia surrounding the area. Her shoulders sag. She looks over her shoulder at Kate who was looking around the area. It was at that moment that Natasha and Yelena had seemingly managed to free themselves of Peter's webs.

Wanda was sitting up, rubbing her head. She paused as she noticed that they were surrounded.

"Are these bad guys?" Peter asks, still trying to get his web blaster to work.

"Yes," Kennedy answers as she rises to her feet.

"Damn it," Anya mutters to herself. She talked way too much and now she had more obstacles to remove. She closed her eyes and cracked her neck as she turned back toward Clint at the same time, the tracksuit mafia began their assault on the fragment of the Avengers.

Natasha ran over to Tony and removed the device Anya had thrown at him to disable it before tapping the arc reactor twice, causing the nanites to reactivate. 

Anya moves in for the first strike, slashing at Clint as she drew a knife from her belt. He expertly dodges and parries, his movements fluid and calculated. The streets become their battleground, the snow beneath their feet kicked up in a frenzied dance.

Their clash continues, each combatant showcasing their unique skills. Anya's agility and close-quarters combat style contrast with Clint's accuracy and ranged attacks.

Anya manages to graze Clint's arm with a well-aimed strike, drawing blood. His face contorts with pain, but his determination only intensifies.

Clint grits his teeth, "I never wanted it to end like this, Anya. I'm sorry for what happened."

"Sorry won't bring them back! They deserved better than this!" Anya yells, anger consuming her, "They fought to survive in the Red Room. The worse of it was over and then you killed them!"