chuju | vigilantes

It's strange to be working with someone again like this. The past few weeks, she's been able to tell herself it was only temporary, just until they wrapped things up with this particular cell of Watchdogs. But this feels different. With everything they've shared and the trust they're building, this feels more permanent. After the Secret Warriors fell apart because of Hive, she'd been certain she'd never work with anyone else like this again. But here she is. Here they are.

Her brow furrows at the codename he gives. Not because of needing a codename, that she completely gets, but the name itself is... a choice. She knows better than anyone that sometimes these things are out of your hands, though.

"Ronin?" she asks skeptically over the rim of her coffee mug before she takes another sip. "Did you come up with that or did the press stick you with it? Because I sure as hell didn't choose Quake for myself."

Clint just shrugs and drinks his beer, a sip this time. He’s not planning to get shit faced in front of a woman that he’s only just met. Sometimes he gets weepy and that would be embarrassing after everything they’ve talked about tonight. He’ll stop after this one, and then maybe they can make plans for their next strike in the morning.

“Not the first person to wear the suit,” he states. “It was named before me, so it’s not like I had a choice. Folks use it when they need to do things as someone else. I can’t be Hawkeye right now, maybe not ever again, but I still need to help. This is the only way I could make that happen.”

Despite the fracturing of the Avengers after the snap, Clint knows that most of them wouldn’t approve of how he’s chosen to live his life. The only person that might forgive him is Natasha, but he still can’t bring himself to tell her. This is his burden to bear, and now it’s Daisy’s too.

Huh. Interesting. She'd never heard of a Ronin or seen the suit before Clint inserted himself into her mission, but now she's curious. And luckily, even without SHIELD's resources, she's still got plenty of ways to do her own research and sate her curiosity without having to bother Clint for the information.

"I wonder if that'll happen with the heroes," she muses, steering the conversation to yet another subject. "People have to retire eventually, right? If nothing else, this job's hard on the body." Not that she can picture someone like May ever retiring, but she has heard Coulson complain about his knees once or twice. "Maybe there'll be another Captain America after Rogers. Probably not an Iron Man after Stark, though — from what I've heard, I don't think his ego could stand it."

Clint shrugs at her, glad for the change in subject. “Well I’m not gonna last forever, but Rogers is a super soldier, so who knows how long he’s gonna stay in shape for. Bruce seems pretty indestructible and Tony’s gonna have to be dead before he stops putting that suit on.” It feels good, being able to talk about his friends in a way that’s not painful. “But maybe they should think about training up some new ones. Before the snap, Tony had this baby science kid, and there was Wanda and Vis… we were growing in ranks.”

Despite them not always getting along, things with the Avengers had been good overall. Cap and Tony got into over Cap’s weird murder boyfriend, but Clint is sure they’ve made up by now. Too much has happened since then for them to keep holding their grudges.

Wanda. Vision. She's pretty sure the science kid was probably the Spider-Man who had been causing the good kind of mischief in Queens for a while. And now they're all gone. Their mention brings on another wave of guilt over the part she played in failing to stop Thanos, and Daisy scrambles to pull herself back from that line of thought before she spirals too deeply into it.

"The Accords fucked things up for a while too, didn't they." It's not a question; she remembers the way the news had gone nuts over it all. "I always thought SHIELD's Index was a bad idea, but the Accords are so much worse. If the wrong person gets hold of that list..."

Not every gifted individual wants the rest of the world to know who they are and what they can do, not when human beings aren't exactly known for being kind to those who are deemed different.

“Yeah, the Accords. Who’s bright idea was that?” Ultimately, Clint had decided to retire once the Accords came into play. It was the coming out of retirement part that had been the ultimate catalyst to his divorce. Laura hadn’t wanted him to go back out into the field, but he hadn’t listened. Within a month, he was being served with papers.

He doesn’t need to be thinking about that. Even if he wanted a second chance with Laura, which he doesn’t, she’s gone now.

“All the Accords would have done was leash the Avengers and expose Inhumans and Mutants who were just minding their own business. How many of them would have wanted retribution for us ruining their lives? It’s better to let people live the way they choose if they aren’t hurting anyone.”

"Agreed," she says with a nod, looking back down at the coffee she's still cradling in her hands. "Inhumans have existed for thousands of years and no one knew about them. They took care of their own, and if there was a problem, they dealt with it themselves. But now that people know, they think we're dangerous and it'll be our goal to..."

She lifts a hand in something like an exasperated shrug. There's a feeling of frustration and helplessness welling up inside of her because she is, in part, responsible for this. Daisy and Jiaying had both made mistakes and now their people (what's left of them) are suffering for it.

"I guess I'm not exactly proving them wrong. But I can't just sit around and let the Watchdogs hurt innocent people."

Clint just shrugs. He's made a lot of mistakes since putting on the Ronin suit, but they aren't actions he necessarily regrets. "Like you said, you gotta protect your own," he says softly. Clint has no powers himself, but the thought of that Spider Kid, or even Daisy being forced to register feels like some shit straight out of Nazi Germany, which he knows is why Cap wouldn't sign. A registration for mutants and inhumans and enhanced isn't something that could ever be seen as a good thing.

Especially not when revealing themselves could have them end up in a lab, being tested on for the rest of their lives. Clint had met Bucky Barnes before the snap; he'd seen first hand the results of the horrible acts doctors commit in the name of science.

Protecting her own was what Daisy's mom had been trying to do with her war on SHIELD and baseline humans, she'd just been too broken to see how her own pain was affecting her judgment. Jiaying had been willing to do unspeakable things to protect the people she considered hers, but the second Daisy stood against her, she'd been excluded from that number. She can still feel her mother's hands on her skin, siphoning the life out of her without a shred of remorse.

"Yeah," she comments quietly, not having anything more substantial to add to the discussion. After a moment, she takes a last long sip of coffee to finish off the mug and sets it down again with an audible clink. "I quake in my sleep sometimes. If you feel a bit of a rumble, it's probably just me."

Might as well warn him now. Things haven't been bad enough in a while to shake the house to the point it would register to anyone looking for her, but that's mostly because she wakes up before it's more than just tremors.

Clint nods quickly, taking note of her warning. "Maybe we should both get some sleep," he suggests. He takes the remainder of the beers and puts them back into the fridge. "There's a room across from the bathroom if you want it," he adds as an offer. He still doesn't know for sure if Daisy is planning on staying even though it's starting to sound more likely.

"I'm gonna hit the sack. No need to keep watch or anything, I've got shit set up." He has a pretty advanced monitoring system that he sets up every time he settles into a safehouse, and he's never had a problem detecting intruders.

Clint stands and nods at her before heading out of the kitchen. It's been a long day and he's ready for it to end.

Daisy hadn't actively made a decision about staying, it just sort of... happened. One minute, she's still debating, and the next, it's done. No more weighing options. It's weird how it feels right all of a sudden. It's even weirder when she washes out her cup and heads back down the hall to the room he'd mentioned. There's a bed and everything. It's been months since she slept in an actual bed.

But sleep she does. Eventually. There's not much of it, there never is these days, but the building doesn't shake and the world doesn't end. It's a low bar for a good night, but maybe it bodes well for this new partnership they've stumbled into. Maybe things won't end as badly this time.

Clint doesn't sleep much that night, despite his assurances that it's safe enough not to set up a watch. It's strange to share space with someone he barely knows even though he does trust her. It doesn't matter, ultimately, because he gets correspondence from Natasha early that morning, and he finds himself knocking on Daisy's door.

"Hey, got some intel about a drug ring in Morocco. They're taking young girls," he says. "You coming, or do you want me to meet up with me after?" He's fine either way, since he knows that Daisy has been more focused on the Watchdogs and their treatment of enhanced individuals. This is definitely more Clint's thing than hers.

The sun rose that morning and Daisy was awake to see it. Not that she paid much attention, of course — she was too deep into her research to notice the sky brightening outside the blinds-covered window across from the not-terribly-uncomfortable bed. Just a little early-morning hacking to track the Watchdogs' financials, nothing too strenuous. It is engrossing, though, and so she actually jumps a little when the knock comes at her door.

It's been too long since she lived with another person. (Is that what she's doing now?)

Twenty seconds is all she needs. Not to make up her mind, she'd done that the second he mentioned the girls. No, it takes her twenty seconds to shut down her work, climb off the bed, and grab the duffel she hadn't bothered to unpack the night before. Opening the door with an expectant look on her face, she simply asks, "When do we leave?"

Clint is reaching to knock again when the door swings open. It looks like she'd gotten about as much sleep as he had. "Uh hey," he greets, "I need to find us transport, waiting to hear if Cap will let us borrow the quinjet while he runs around on his honeymoon or whatever he's doing with Barnes. If not, we're getting train tickets or taking that van of yours. I need to dismantle my equipment and pack up but I should be good to go in ten."

He passes over the notes he'd gotten from Natasha and adds, "if you want to familiarize yourself while I get everything together." He hopes there's coffee, even if it's cold and old from the night before.

A quinjet. The idea sends a pang of longing through her, though she doesn't let it show on her face. She isn't going back to SHIELD, so thinking about how much she misses her family isn't going to do anyone any good. Instead, she just nods and takes the papers with her free hand.

"Thanks," she says absently, already reading the first words as she makes for the kitchen. "I'll make coffee."

She would have offered breakfast, but aside from bowls of cereal or partially burnt toast, her breakfast-making skills leave something to be desired. Hopefully, he doesn't mind a liquid diet start to the day, and hopefully, there's something travel-friendly to carry their much-needed caffeine in.

Clint nods and doesn't make a joke about marrying like he may have before, to someone willing to make him coffee. He says, "there are protein bars in the drawer, no time for anything more substantial."

And then he leaves the kitchen.

Dismantling his tech takes a bit longer than he'd expected because he needs to make sure that every piece comes with him to the next base. It's a good thing, because he doesn't hear back for thirteen minutes. He heads directly to the kitchen, pours a fresh cup of coffee for Daisy and then drinks directly from the pot. "Quinjet's coming for us, but so are Cap and Barnes. We'll have to drop them off if we want to use it. That good with you?"

It might feel almost domestic to be making coffee in the morning in an actual kitchen. You know, if they weren't about to run off to stop a bunch of bad guys doing bad things. That kind of shatters the illusion.

She's eating her protein bar breakfast when he returns, his bar waiting on the counter for him. (There are another few stuffed in her bag for later.) His use of the coffee pot as a mug gets a raised eyebrow, but the words that follow are enough to derail her thoughts before she can comment.

"Yeah, it's fine," she says softly, wishing she could feel even a modicum of excitement over meeting the Avenger and Howling Commando who Coulson has told her so much about over the years. Instead, she's almost dreading it. "I'd... prefer they not know who I am."

Clint takes his protein bar and eats it in two large bites. He takes another gulp of coffee from the pot before nodding at her words. "They're under cover right now too, so I don't think anyone will be asking questions. They're just here for transport."

There are things he doesn't want Steve to know as well, and those things involve the persona he's taken on, so he stuffs the Ronin uniform into his bag. "There are things I don't want them to know, too," he adds even though he's pretty sure it's clear.

Clint finishes getting ready and not even a few minutes later, he hears the tell tale sign of the Quinjet landing. "Alright," he says, "here we go."

"Here we go," she echoes quietly, hefting her bag onto her shoulder. It's been so long since she just jetted off somewhere at the drop of a hat that it feels both strange and familiar at the same time. Nostalgia and nerves pile on top of each other only to be swept away by anxiety and guilt when she finally spots the two living legends.

Yeah, this is gonna suck.

She doesn't say a word to anyone as she boards the quinjet, just climbs the ramp and immediately stows her bag securely. Actually flying the thing is something she hasn't trained for yet, but she knows the ins and outs of the rest of it. Hell, she's jumped out the back of one more times than she can count. So she keeps busy checking the systems she understands while the men do their thing, hoping she can avoid any and all conversation and that wherever they need to go isn't far.

Clint gets on the jet first, nodding to Cap and Bucky before moving aside for Daisy. "Hey boys," he says, taking on the socialization by himself. It's pretty clear that she'd rather keep to herself and he doesn't blame her. She doesn't know these guys and it had taken weeks of running into each other for them to trust each other enough to sleep under the same roof. He doesn't blame her for being cautious. It's not like he's spilling all his secrets to Steve either.

"My friend Daisy," Clint mentions. "She's helping me on this op." And all his ops, really. The seem to have developed a bit of a partnership now.

Steve nods and Bucky remains silent, looking at them only briefly. Clint lets the conversation sprawl a little, talking about how everyone's doing without talking about what everyone was doing. Steve's not saying where he's been, and neither is Clint. That's how it has to work, now that the world has ended.

They're dropped off a few hours later, and Clint feels his shoulders drop in relief. "Okay, Nat's sent me co-ordinates for a safehouse and she left the details of this thing there. You still good?" he asks Daisy.

If all of this were happening under very different circumstances, she might have spilled all her secrets to the other heroes. There's no doubt in her mind that she can trust Steve and Bucky, it's written into the very core of who they are, but she can't trust them with this. She can't burden them with her own guilt and the secrets that aren't hers to tell.

The hours that pass are a new kind of agony, and it's more than a relief when it's finally just her and Clint on the quinjet. Suddenly, she can breathe again, the small aircraft no longer feeling like a tiny tin can about to crush her. Instead of taking the seat she's occupied at the back, she moves into the one next to him in the cockpit, buckling in automatically.

"I'm good," she confirms, flexing her hands as if they're stiff or sore. It's not until this moment that she realizes how tightly she's been holding onto her control, her anxiety straining to ripple out in a wave of vibrations that she'd refused to let loose. She feels almost wrung out from the effort. "I just didn't realize it was going to be so hard."

Clint glances over toward her when she starts strapping in and nods. It seems like this was a lot harder on Daisy than he'd anticipated. He hadn't meant for that to happen but there was no avoiding it. They'll have to deal with the same thing on the way back too. Clint still hasn't convinced anyone to let him have transport of his own, so he's been relying on Cap and Bucky to get him where he needs to be going.

He plots the course to the safehouse; they're only about an hour out.

"Look, I don't know your past," Clint says softly, looking over at her again. He's not chastising her at all, more just stating a fact. "But you can trust me. I wouldn't put you in harm's way, not intentionally. And neither would Cap, or Bucky for that matter. They're on the run just as much as I assume you are and I know they won't sell you out. So, you don't need to worry about that."

If Daisy plans to stick around, she'll be seeing them more often, probably. This is their quinjet, after all. Stolen, or "borrowed" as Cap puts it, but theirs nonetheless. If he and Daisy want to use it, they'll have to deal with seeing those two.

"We've all got secrets, and I'll keep whatever ones you share with me."

vigilantes — psl

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If you want him to call her something else, lmk! I'll change it.

it works!

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