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Letter of Marque ›› Hawkeye & Mockingbird fan fiction ››

HeroHQ

Re: Letter of Marque ›› Hawkeye & Mockingbird fan fiction ››

in reply to Mockeye

@Rogue - It's a short story about what Bobbi does when she can't sleep, which is restoring this rust bucket car and this sorta bond she forms with it.

@Brian - You got that backwards.  I'm the cool and sexy one, you're the lucky one, haha.

Oh, yeah, who would wanna watch Ark of the Covenent or The Last Crusade when you can watch old Indy and Shai LaBouf in Crystal Skull. (we need a new sarcastic smiley, doesn't work so well)

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Re: Letter of Marque ›› Hawkeye & Mockingbird fan fiction ››

in reply to Hawkeye

Oh yeah, who knew something could make even Temple of Doom look better by comparison?

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Re: Letter of Marque ›› Hawkeye & Mockingbird fan fiction ››

in reply to Hawkeye
›› CHAPTER THREE ›› WATER'S END


The coppery taste of blood was strong in Clint’s mouth.  His lip throbbed and was still seeping blood which dribbled down his chin and made the cloth sack stick to his face.  That which didn’t fuse to his skin had pooled in his mouth and mixed with saliva in an unpleasant cocktail that trickled down his throat.  What he wouldn’t give to spit.

They had been pushed and prodded along, masked by hoods and wrists bound behind their backs by plastic handcuffs, for a good ten minutes by Clint’s estimation.  He had tried to keep track of the twists and turns of their trek, but these bastards weren’t dumb.  He was pushed into walls and spun around to make it hard to keep his bearings.  If they had to make their escape back through these caves he wouldn’t have a clue which way to go.

At least they found what the tattooed woman had been running from.

A hard shove at Clint’s back made him stumble.  Behind him the raspy voice of Bobbi’s opponent taunted, “Why you walking so slow?  I took my boot out of your ass five minutes ago.”

“Keep your sick fantasies to yourself, pal.”

Clint knew he was going to pay for that before the last words left his tongue.  On cue, a fist hammered his lower back sending a fresh wave of pain through the sore muscles.  He gritted his teeth and held back a groan, determined not to let the little punk have that victory.

“I think you’re the sick freak here, talking shit to get me to keep hitting you.  Have you told the girlie yet that’s how you get off?”

“Who do you think introduced him to it in the first place,” Bobbi chimed in with a sarcastic reply.

“Massive f*in weirdos.”

“If we’re offending your fragile sensibilities, how ‘bout taking off the cuffs,” Clint asked.

“Hell no, who knows what disgusting thing you’d try to do to me.  Yo-“

“Enough,” the assertive voice cut across the air like a whip. “We’re almost there.”

“You heard him, move it,” the raspy voice snapped without the usual mockery after being chastised by his partner.

This time Clint held his tongue and just as the second voice said the ground beneath his feet became an even flat surface with hollow metallic thuds following each step.  The air had changed too.  No longer was there a cold oppression, it felt warmer and dryer.  It even smelled different, like the faint saltiness of the sea.  They had definitely left the confines of the dark winding tunnels, he was certain of it, even without his eyes.

Clint felt himself pushed around another couple more turns before the creak of a door announced the arrival at their destination.  A harsh final shove sent him colliding into Bobbi’s back as they stumbled through the door way.  Their captors followed and closed the door with a heavy clang.  The thought of resistance jumped to the front of Clint’s mind, maybe he could catch them off-guard, but a strong hand latched onto the back of his neck and steered him through the room.  Abruptly, the sack was yanked off and the flood of light brought bright colored blotches flashing before his eyes.  He heard Bobbi mumbled a curse under her breath.  As he blinked his eyes to clear his vision a second door slammed shut behind him.  Trapped.  At least Bobbi’s blurry outline was with him.

“Watch them while I inform Garotte,” the assertive voice ordered.

Smugness emanated from every word as the raspy one answered, “Not a problem.”

“Don’t start anything, Wolf,” he sternly replied. “Watch only.”

“Stop being a b*tch.  Anyone stupid enough to stick their nose in places it doesn’t belong deserves a beating.”

Clint’s vision cleared enough to see the large man take a menacing step toward the raspy one, Wolf, and lean forward “Any hint of abuse and I’ll do the same to you.”

Wolf looked away.  “Whatever, go run off and find your master.”

The large man studied Wolf for a moment, then glanced at Clint and Bobbi behind the cell door, and stalked out of the room without another word.  Now without the darkness of the cave or the harshness of bright light restricting his vision, Clint could see what he was dealing with.  Wolf, as the large man had called him, was a kid, barely old enough to buy a beer.  He was short, an inch or two shorter than Bobbi, and slim in fitted all-black clothes from boot to neck with long sleeves over tan skin to better hide in the darkness of the cave.  A light goatee adorned a small chin below a long sloping nose and close, deep set eyes with thick angled brows.  The most eye-catching part of his appearance was the faux hawk that sat atop his head that progressed from natural brown roots at the base to fiery orange blazed tips.  The thermal goggles hung loose around his neck.

“I don’t think your friend likes you very much,” Clint said out loud what he had been thinking.

“You must not like your face very much,” Wolf retorted, striking his baton against the steel bars that separated them by mere inches.

“Careful with that, I’d hate for it to slip.  Your buddy doesn’t seem like the forgiving type.”

“Neither am I.  I’m looking forward to beating your skull in.”

Clint gave a thin smile.  “You do that.”

Wolf sneered back and struck the cell door a second time before he turned away to settle down in a simple black office chair behind a scuffed oak desk.  Determined not to give Clint anymore attention, he busied himself by playing with an iPod pulled from a pants pocket.

Clint let him be, shifting his attention to Bobbi, who sat on the edge of one of two lumpy cots arranged against opposite sides of the cell.  Her face was pinched in concentration as her shoulders wiggled, trying to slip her handcuffed hands under her legs to have her hands in front of her.

Clint spat blood on the floor as he watched her.  “Got any picks?”

“No, but we shouldn’t need them,” Bobbi answered.  Her eyes focused on his mouth. “How’s your lip?  It looks like a blood bag exploded on your chin.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s been better.”

“When I get these cuffs off I’ll see if there’s anything I can do.”

Just as she finished the sentence, Bobbi managed to get her hands in front of her.  The handcuffs she wore were black riot cuffs, similar to zip ties with a thin plastic cable that fed through a block and ratcheted tight around the wearer’s wrist.  They usually had to be cut off with scissors, but a pin could also be used to lift the tab that prevented the cable from being pulled out of the block.  They could be broken with force too, but it would require expending energy to do so and wasn’t as subtle.  Wolf would catch them before they could break free and Clint doubted he’d take their escape attempt well.

Bobbi, it seemed, had something else in mind.

“Why are ya taking off your boot laces,” he asked, watching her pale hands pull the lace out of the little loops.

“They should be able to saw through the plastic cuffs using friction.”

Eyeing the simple white boot lace, Clint couldn’t help feeling a little skeptical.  The plastic wasn’t thick, but he couldn’t see how a lace could saw through it.  “And ya done this before?”

“Once,” she said, threading one end of the lace into the cuff before adding, “during a SHIELD exercise.  I never tried it in the field.”

“What can I do?’

“Grab an end in each hand and saw it back and forth as fast as you can.  It shouldn’t take more than a minute before you feel the plastic break.”

With his hands still cuffed behind his back, he was forced to turn around and let Bobbi put the lace in his hands to saw the plastic blind.  At least it allowed him to keep an eye on Wolf, who seemed oblivious to their scheming.  It wasn’t easy doing the rapid tugging with his wrists tightly bound and only Bobbi’s command of “faster” to guide him, but as she said it took less than a minute before the plastic cuff gave out.  She took the lace from his hands and he felt the soft fibers slid over his skin as she snaked it through his cuffs.

“You think I’m stupid? I can see exactly what you’re doing,” Wolf spoke up as he left his seat and sauntered toward the cell, the baton clenched in hand. “Pretty pointless since you’re not getting out of that cell.”

“I don’t know, we’re pretty resourceful.  Got the cuffs off, didn’t we?”

“Do yourself a favor,” Wolf said and leaned toward the bars, “stay in there.”

Clint smirked, feeling the cuff snap off his wrist, and stepped forward. “Try to make me, Lassie”

For once, Wolf didn’t answer.  He simply chuckled and stared back with a toothy grin.  Out of the corner of his eye, Clint caught a glimpse of metal, but his reflexes failed him.  The baton shot forward, passing between the cell bars, and punched him in the groin.  Pain raged through his body to make Clint crumble to his knees.  He ached horribly and a wave of nausea flooded his senses as he knelt on the cold tile floor.  A black soled boot stepped on his fingers splayed open on the ground knowing that Clint couldn’t stand let alone fight back. 

But Bobbi could.

She had crossed the small cell in an instant. Her fist lunged through the bars and caught Wolf off-guard, sending him stumbling backwards.  Stunned, Wolf coughed and clutched his chest where she struck him.

“F***”, he gasped between coughs.  “God damn amazon.”

“I haven’t been called that since grade school, the guy that said it was about your height too.”

“You won’t be laughing when you see what’s left of your boyfriend,” he snarled.

“All I’ve seen is you throwing cheap shots.  Afraid of a real fight,” she asked coolly, her anger held firmly in check behind a neutral mask.  A spark of hate hid in her eyes, glowing dimly, as she stared him down.  Still knelt on the ground, Clint was mostly forgotten and he was glad to be ignored, the pain still too intense to stand.

Wolf’s face hardened, his own anger threatening to bubble over. “I’m not afraid of anything, especially not some amazon b*tch high on Women’s Lib.”

“Then open the cell and let’s settle this – one on one.”

“You’ll be regretting that challenge in about two minutes, poppet.”

“But unlike all the other women you’ve said that to I’ll be walking away satisfied,” she quipped.

Unable to think up a snappy retort, Wolf banged his baton on the bars in front of her face and grumbled more threats as he dove into his pockets for the key.  “You’re in for the beating of your life.  They’ll need a picture to stitch what’s left of your face back together.”

“Wolf, that’s hardly the way to speak to our guests.”

Clint’s head jerked to the direction of the new voice.  A tall, brawny man stood in the doorway of their little prison with a deep frown cutting his feature as he looked upon the impending fight.  He knew in an instant that it must be the “Garotte” Wolf’s partner had referred to; the authority in which he carried himself was undeniable.  The lines carving his face and salt and pepper stubble on his square jaw indicated he was closer to fifty than thirty, the elder to Wolf and his partner, but the fitness in which he kept his body and alertness in his dark green eyes made him still appear youthful.  His jet black hair formed a slight widow’s peak atop his forehead and trailed down into a short ponytail resting on his broad shoulders.  A small scar cut across the corner of his eyebrow, giving him the look of a rugged Pierce Brosnan.

“Screw that noise, they’ve done nothing, but start sh*t,” Wolf argued, pointing at the two of them.  “We found them wh-“

“Rask already told me everything,” Garotte interrupted, holding up a silencing hand, as he stepped forward. “You can leave now, Wolf, you won’t be needed.”

For a second, Wolf looked ready to argue the blunt dismissal , but thought better of it and slapped the cell key into Garotte’s hand as he stormed away.  Garotte’s smile was apologetic as he approached them.

“My apologies for Wolf and any undue treatment you may have suffered.  I had hoped partnering him with Rask would dampen his immaturity, but at that age…,” Garotte trailed off and shook his head.  “Allow me to make up for it with a meal.  I’ve already taken the liberty of having my cook prepare something as we speak.  I’m assuming you’re here because of Luciana?”

Clint forced himself to stand up.  “Depends on who Lucy is.”

“Young thirty-three year old woman, tattoo sleeves on both arms,” he replied, motioning the length of his bicep. “She caused a bit of a stir several days ago, but we can discuss this further over lunch.”

Garotte unlocked the cell door, seemingly unthreatened by either Clint or Bobbi, and swung it open to invite them out.  Bobbi exchanged a brief glance with Clint then stepped through the arch.  Clint hobbled behind her, glaring at Garotte as he past him.  After getting blindsided with a kick to the mouth and a punch to the balls, he wasn’t in a hurry to trust any of Wolf’s not-so-little friends.

“This cook of yours better be makin’ something besides bugs and cave mushrooms,” Clint grumbled.

“The only mushrooms you’ll find will be served on top of a steak,” he replied, and his face took on what Clint thought was a haughty expression. “You do eat meat?”

Clint glared back. “Yeah, I eat meat.”

“Then you will have no problems with the food we serve,” Garotte answered, smiling confidentially.  He opened the door.  “If you’ll follow me.”

What Clint saw outside the prison door was not what he had expected.  This wasn’t a couple of shacks sitting by the mouth of a cave – it was a full blown city. 

Nestled in a high ceiled cove was a collection of buildings, one as tall as four stories, constructed of concrete and deep red in color with a simple, slightly chunky design.  A highway of metal catwalks connected the buildings together as well as providing steps up and down to the different stories.  Between two buildings he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a dock on the edge of the water.  To Clint’s eye, it was all well maintained.  No rust on the catwalks or chipped walls.  It wasn’t a temporary hideout for a couple of kidnappers, they lived here.

“What the hell is this place?”

“We like to call it Water’s End and it’s been my home longer than you’ve been alive,” Garotte answered as he led them up a set of stairs to the second story.  The prison had been on ground, slightly separate from the rest of the buildings.  “It’s a small community of fishermen that prefer a more secluded life.”

“I never knew you needed thermal goggles to fish,” Bobbi piped in.

“Our seclusion forces us to be wholly dependent on ourselves, so it’s only practical to be prepared for any number of situations.  We have electricity through hydropower and thermal goggles are just one option we could use should a generator malfunction.”

“But why in the cave,” she pressed, “Flashlights cramp your self-dependant style?”

“I’ll explain everything over lunch.  I understand you’re suspicions, especially after the rough welcome, but I have nothing to hide.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Clint replied.

Garotte stopped at the foot of another staircase leading to the third level, his hand resting on the railing, and turned to face them.  He kept his face blank, though Clint could see he was losing his patience.  “For all your questions, you’ve told me nothing about yourselves.  Why a couple of dodgy Yanks have taken an interest in a woman whose worst possible crime would be disturbing the peace?  Don’t mistake my silence as me being thick, I’m letting you off because of Wolf’s behavior, but I won’t be pushed around.”

Bobbi tilted her head.  “Fair enough.  Let’s go to your lunch.”

He nodded and lead the way up the stairs to a non-descript arched wooden door just beyond the landing.  Pulling on a heavy brass ring, the door swung open revealing a sparsely decorated room with a long dining table big enough for twenty people with chairs lined up on either side.  Like the buildings, it was of simple design with fat legs supporting a thick three inch table top made of dark cherry wood.  In a rare show of intricacy, a map of the Mediterranean Sea was carved in the middle.  Mounted lamps set on rich red walls gave light to the otherwise windowless space and filled it with warmth.  A small white projector sat on a table in between two of the lights.

Clint wiped his lip with the back of his hand and sat down where someone had left three glasses of cold water by the carved map.  Bobbi took the chair left of him and Garotte sat on the other side of the table.  “So, ya wanna start with small talk or the woman that’s lying comatose in a hospital bed?”

Garotte frowned as he brought the glass to his mouth and took a healthy swallow.  “That would be Luciana,” Garotte answered and set down the water.  His face appeared troubled. “She is one of us.   Sweet girl, very artistic.  She designed the tattoos on her arms.  Unfortunately, she has bad taste in men.”

“Who’s the boyfriend,” Bobbi asked, straight to the point.

“Carlos Renato.  He’s a very good fisherman, but has drug issues, opium specifically, and she fell into it as well.”

“And you think that’s why she freaked out?”

He steadily looked back at her.  “You tell me.”

“What would you say if I told you the doctors didn’t find any traces of drugs in her system,” Bobbi replied in turn.

Garotte remained stone faced, but before he could answer the groan of the door hinges announced the arrival of their food.  Clint watched as a lanky man with a buzzcut and goatee enter the room carrying three glistening silver plates filled with mashed potatoes and brown meat that Clint couldn’t place.  Garotte dismissed their server after the plates were delivered to the table and he left with a curt nod, not saying a word.  Bobbi, he noticed, didn’t take her eyes off Garotte.

“What is this stuff,” Clint asked as he speared the foreign meat with a fork.  It looked a bit…flabby to be anything he had eaten before.  It definitely wasn’t beef.

Garrote waited until he swallowed a piece of his own meat before answering, “That would be pan fried lamb kidney.”

Clint’s dropped his fork, his throat feeling tight as he eyed the kidney on his plate. “I’ll pass.”

Garotte smiled, appearing amused.  “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little lamb?”

“I can’t say I have a taste for the parts of animals they grind up for dog food.”

“Your partner disagrees,” he said, his eyes flickering to Bobbi.

Clint’s stomach squirmed as he watched a piece of kidney disappear into her mouth. “I have a strong stomach.”

“Is that a requirement for SHIELD,” he asked, smile widening.

Bobbi appeared unfazed at his assumption as she dug into the mashed potatoes. “It’s a requirement for a lot of things.”

“You’re a tough bird,” Garotte replied and leaned back in the chair, his face appearing both impressed and mildly annoyed.  “I answered your questions.  Am I at least allowed to know your names?

With Wolf and now Garotte hovering over them, there hadn’t been a chance to discuss whether it was in their best interest to fess up to being Avengers before they were recognized or their lost backpack discovered, but Garotte had made no bones that he was eyeing them up.  Clint didn’t think he was used to having secrets kept from him, though he wasn’t about to lower himself by asking them.  With subtle cues, ranging from the kidney lunch to his brusque interruption of Wolf, Garotte was letting it be known he was the alpha dog and everyone had to line up behind him.  It made Clint want to keep his identity secret if for no other reason than to spite him.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, chief.  If you and Luciana are so chummy why haven’t ya ID’d her to the cops yet?”

“I have other responsibilities.  Summer is when we fish for bluefin tuna and we have quotas to fill.  I was planning on sending Rask to check on her, but you came here saving him the trip.  I can show you the contracts if necessary.”

“We’ll let ya know,” Clint replied, though he had intention to ask for them.  He had no idea what a fishing contract looked like or how to spot a fake, though wasn’t about to let Garotte know that.  He switched to a different subject, saying., “But that still don’t explain the goon squad in the cave.”

“Renato hasn’t taken well to what happened to Luciana.  He went missing this morning after a night of drinking.  Wolf and Rask went to check the cave to see if he might’ve wandered there in an attempt to walk to Gibraltar to see her.  The thermal goggles were used because they’re more effective in the cave, where it can be easy to miss someone.”

“Do they always kick strangers in the face as way of greeting,” Bobbi asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That was poor judgment and I’ll make sure that won’t happen again.” Mid-sentence his eyes turned toward the door and Clint followed his gaze, noticing a sliver of natural light cutting into a shadow on the floor.  Someone was eavesdropping.  “We’re done here, Will.”

Their eavesdropper hesitated.  Slowly, the door opened on well-oiled hinges and a slim figure shuffled into view – a teenaged girl.  She looked barely old enough to drive, her face soft and round, a little baby fat in her cheeks she had yet to lose, as she was caught between a girl and a woman.  There was an obvious resemblance to Garotte, her short, shaggy hair the same pitch black color as his and their short noses and thin lips nearly identical, though she carried another’s traits as well.  The girl’s irises were deep brown to his green, her mouth smaller, and eyebrows thinner and more feminine.  Right now, it was those brown eyes that studied Clint and Bobbi before self-consciously darting to the wall as she crossed her arms over her chest, appearing mulish.

“What are you doing here, Sid,” Garotte’s voice snapped.

She continued to stare at the wall, avoiding his glare. “Rask said he got in a fight with some strangers in the Blackburrow tunnel.  I came to see.”

Garotte’s jaw clenched to show his displeasure. “He’s not supposed to tell you that.”  He turned back toward Clint and Bobbi, his voice softening as he addressed them, “Sorry for the interruption, this is my daughter Sidney. Sid, this is…” Garotte trailed off, looking at them expectantly for an answer.

And when put like that Clint didn’t have a choice.  He would happily give Garotte grief for the alpha dog act, but Sidney was just a kid that was afraid to look at him.  Ignoring Garotte, he gave Sidney an easy smile and told her, “You can call me Clint.”

Bobbi looked a bit more hesitant, but added, “Bobbi.”

“Hey,” Sidney replied, risking a quick glance at them. “Look, don’t blame Rask.  I made him tell me.”

“How could a sixteen year old girl make a bloke the size of Rask do anything,” Garotte replied, eyebrows raised

Sidney shuffled her feet and didn’t answer.  Feeling sympathetic toward the kid, Clint was ready to butt in and save her from the embarrassment of being scolded in front strangers, but was beaten to the punch.

“I hate to break up this heartwarming family moment, but we’d like to check out Luciana’s living space to make sure she hadn’t come into contact with any dangerous materials that could’ve caused her condition.”

“I can take you,” Sidney hastily suggested before her father had a chance to reply.

For a moment, it appeared as though Garotte was prepared to argue, his forehead creased with frown lines, but he remained quiet for a beat.  Finally, he blew out a sigh and told her, “All right, but we’ll be having a talk about Rask later.” His face smoothed as he directed his attention on Clint and Bobbi once more. “You’re free to look around Water’s End, though enter the workshop at your own risk as we have a bit of heavy machinery there.  Sid can show you to a guest quarters where you can wash up and use the toilet.  If that lip of yours needs mending the doctor is two floors below us.”

“I’ll be fine,” Clint said as he stood up, the untouched meat sitting cold on the plate before him. “Ready when you are, kid.”

Bobbi took a final sip of water and moved to join them. “Thanks for the lunch.”

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Re: Letter of Marque ›› Hawkeye & Mockingbird fan fiction ››

in reply to Hawkeye

Nice new chapter, Hawk!  Man, Bobbi will really eat anything, won't she? haha, I'll write up something a bit more detailed later, but it was a good, fun chapter.

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Re: Letter of Marque ›› Hawkeye & Mockingbird fan fiction ››

in reply to Rogue_Shadow1

Thanks Rogue!  And yeah, she'd try most things at least once, and not just to gross out Clint, haha.

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Re: Letter of Marque ›› Hawkeye & Mockingbird fan fiction ››

in reply to Hawkeye

But partially to gross out Clint, of course...

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Re: Letter of Marque ›› Hawkeye & Mockingbird fan fiction ››

in reply to Rogue_Shadow1

Naturally, it's a pretty entertaining hobby.

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Re: Letter of Marque ›› Hawkeye & Mockingbird fan fiction ››

in reply to Hawkeye

So, I know I didn't wait 6 months to post a review for you, but I hope that's okay with you, Hawk! haha

Anyway, the whole confrontation with Wolf was pretty funny and you could definitely tell Wolf was an immature... I'm looking for a word that wouldn't get censored by the swear filter but can't find one to describe him, haha.  He has it all: cruelty, cowardice, sexism.  Just the kind of person to basically work security for Water's End, since he won't have any qualms about getting into fights with people to keep them out (and maybe in, too?).  I gotta admit I would've liked to see Bobbi beat him up, but it wouldn't have fit in the story really since it'd mess up Garotte's entrance. 

Speaking of Garotte, I think you did a really good job with him.  He had this whole aura of authority that he clearly works hard to maintain, and it really annoys Clint.  They had a fun little cat and mouse game trying to keep secrets and get info from each other.  Of course, all it takes for Clint to finally give his name is for a teenage girl to ask, though that's kinda what I'd expect from Clint.  He's not gonna be as wary of a kid as Bobbi is. 

This might just be me overthinking things, but it seems strange that they'd talk about how much they fish and end up eating lamb kidney.  I kinda got the impression that people aren't supposed to leave Water's End, so I'm not sure how they'd even go about getting lamb.  Though if they have fishing contracts and quotas to fill, maybe they do associate with the outside world a bit more.  I kinda figured it was some kinda secret city that no one was supposed to know about, so that threw me off a little bit.  This is less of a flaw in the writing and more of just something I'm hoping to find out more about in the next chapter.  It's looking like we'll get to see more of Water's End in the next chapter, so I'm kinda hoping to see a bit more of how its run and just how isolated it is from the outside world. 

So, definitely another cool chapter, and I'm looking forward to seeing what's next for Clint and Bobbi in the Land of Mysterious Fishermen!

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Re: Letter of Marque ›› Hawkeye & Mockingbird fan fiction ››

in reply to Rogue_Shadow1

I can't say I'm not disappointed, but I'll get over it.

Haha, I was trying to write Wolf as the type of person you would hate to stumble onto while playing online multiplayer.  The annoying guy that does nothing but talk crap and tries to act like some kinda big shot.  It ended up being harder than I expected since I'm not remotely a trash talker, haha.  I wanted to avoid the typical sexual threats though, even if that's something that some trash talkers do far too much, just cause I don't want it to be all about sex.  There's other ways to target a woman with insults aside from sexual threats, like Wolf condescendingly calling her poppet and referring her to as an amazon (the later of which Bobbi would probably take as a compliment, amazons being known as warriors and all, haha).  The banter ended up being quite a bit of fun and it won't be the last you see of Wolf giving Bobbi a hard time.

Poor Clint really hasn't been having a good day, haha.  The lunch scene was fun with the little game being played, as ya said, but also the different strategies at play.  Clint is on the reckless side, Garotte is a lot of alpha dog posturing, and Bobbi is very focused and playing her cards close to her chest.  She specifically doesn't bring up the license plate Luciana was found with, only bringing up information that she knows Garotte knows so they don't scare him off.  A lot of Bobbi's point of view of Garotte and why she gave the answers she did will be brought up in the next scene, which I originally had planned for this chapter but pushed it back for the next chapter.

They do have contacts outside the city, but I don't wanna give too much away.  It won't be addressed in the next chapter, which is mostly about Clint and Bobbi looking around the city

Thanks for the review, Rogue!  Much more is to come.

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Re: Letter of Marque ›› Hawkeye & Mockingbird fan fiction ››

in reply to Hawkeye

Well, I definitely wouldn't wanna play online with him! haha, though I'd compare him more to an annoying basketball player that talks trash, but that's just my background as someone who plays tons of basketball.  Yeah, I'm definitely glad you didn't go that way with the threats, since that would've been a whole different and disturbing character instead of the simple jerk that Wolf is here. 

You must really not like Clint, if you're writing so many bad things happening to him! haha, yeah, they all had very different approaches to it which definitely fit their characters.  Or, at least I know they fit Clint and Bobbi, and Garotte's fit what little we knew about him at this point.  He's in charge of the place, and he wants everyone to know it.  But, it'll definitely be nice to see more of Bobbi's thoughts on stuff, since this chapter was all from Clint's perspective here. 

Cool, I thought something had to be going on with the fishing and all that, though it seemed weird because I initially thought of it as some kinda hidden city that no one knew about at all.  Sounds like someone knows, at least...

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