I’d been hearing whispers of a hooded archer vigilante patrolling around New York, taking out small crime like muggers, gang members, and purse-snatchers. I told my brother, and he made the obligatory reference to the TV series Arrow, and blew it off, but I followed the archer closer. Last week, the Archer made a massive Russian Mob bust, and was interviewed and photographed by some reporters.
The girl couldn’t have been more than a teenager, and a young one at that. She was dressed in black pants with high black boots and a dark purple hoodie. She had her hood up, but I could see hints of jet black hair pointing out, and through her mask, I could see her blue eyes. She had a small stature, no more than 5’2, and about 90 pounds from what I could see. She didn’t answer any of the reporters’ questions aside from one. When they asked for her name, she told them it was Hawkeye, and that caught my attention.
I told my brother, and he agreed, we had to find this ‘Hawkeye’ and set her straight, because who was she to be using that name? Our father’s name, without our permission. So, we set off for New York.
Honestly, ‘Hawkeye’ wasn’t hard to find. The girl was clearly untrained in any kind of stealth, though she was admittedly good with a bow, just not as good as me. When we spotted her saving a girl from a would be rapist, I gestured for my brother to go to the other side of the alley, while I intervened with a strategically placed arrow pinning the jerk to the wall by his shirt collar.
The girl ran off as ‘Hawkeye’ jumped into a defensive position. I gracefully leapt from my position on the roof-top and landed in front of her.
“Easy there Hawkeye,” I tell her, “Or, whatever your name really is.”
Her eyes widened when she saw me, her mouth slipping open, “Huntress?” she asked, “The real Huntress? Leader of the Avengers, the daughter of Black Widow and…oh.”
“Yeah.” Apollo said, dropping down behind her, “Oh.”
She spun to face him as he walked over to the scum stuck to the wall, punching him in the face to knock him out.
“You up for a midnight jaunt across the rooftops?” I ask her.
‘Hawkeye’ had her eyes trained on her expensive-looking combat boots, but she nodded yes, and after my brother called the police to come for the jerk-rod, we were off. The three of us skipped across a few roof-tops, before we stopped on the top of an abandoned building on the outskirts of Manhattan, sitting on the edge with the girl in the middle.
“So you’re Hawkeye now?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Look, I don’t mean to disrespect your Dad or anything!” she defended, speaking rapidly, “Really, I don’t. It’s just, when I was a little girl, he was my favorite Avenger! I started taking archery lessons because of him! Then, when I found out my Dad was a crazy, evil, nutcase, I had to stop him. So I thought I’d become Hawkeye and…”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I interrupted, “Your Dad is a what?”
She took a deep breath, looking between the two of us before ripping off her mask, “My name is Kate Bishop, and my Dad is a crazy, evil, nutcase. He’ll do anything to ‘help’ his company, including, but not limited to, blowing things up, hiring hitmen, terrorizing people, and making alliances with the Russian Mob and possibly Kingpin, but I haven’t proven that yet.”
“So instead of calling the cops…” Apollo asked.
“I tried calling the cops!” Kate yelled, “But they’re either on his side, or don’t believe me cause I’m a kid…”
“That’s how you made the bust.” I observed.
“Yeah…” she mumbled.
I exchanged a knowing glance with my brother, he nodded, and I put my hand on Kate’s shoulder, “Look, how about we make a deal,” she looked up at me, “You let us help you with this, and we’ll train you to actually be Hawkeye.”
Kate’s eyes widened, “Really?”
“Sure,” my brother smiled, “you need to be worthy of it if you’re going to use it.”