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Alias: Cecaelia
Age: 19
Codename: Hawkeye
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KATE BISHOP

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Oct 26 2017, 02:22 PM

People were dicks. This was not new in the history of Man, but sometimes they were such colossal dicks that it felt like new information. The call for protests had been spread far and wide, and the call for counter protests had followed suite. Shit was getting real in a way that was hugely uncomfortable, but Kate knew that if she showed up in full Hawkeye mode she was more likely to be arrested than if she just showed up as a counter protester or a “pansy patrol” participant. The whole point of the Pansy Patrol was to stand in front of protesters with giant pansy cutouts and more or less cover the bullshit hatred that people were spitting forth like so much bile from the gut of fear.

Her pansy, of course, was purple. She had to low key represent the Hawkeye brand regardless of the situation and purple was innocuous enough

The way protests tended to work for huge events was they were spread out in clusters. Each cluster occupying a different space usually around an entrance/exit or high profile area. They wanted the attention, to drive the interest in their group up, and to maybe bring more people into the fold. Kate - and the other Pansy Patrollers - wanted the opposite of that. None of them knew what was happening in the other clusters, just kept their own focus on blocking the signs, and reminding the attendees who may feel like they were being targeted specifically that they weren’t alone and people would stand against the bullshit.

Kate was up early (or more accurately she hadn’t gone to bed after patrols the previous night) and outside the Expo with the other Pansy Patrollers. She’d gotten her location and reported in with her giant pansy on a stick and made sure to constantly be blocking at minimum two signs. There was something delightfully satisfying about the growing annoyance of the protestors behind her, but they couldn’t really do anything without rapid escalation. Kate was there, but she’d never promised that she’d be peaceful if shit got physical. That was asking too much of her.

There were lovely mental images of smacking a particularly loud mouthed ass hat with the pansy though. God, how did anyone think this kind of hatred was okay? Even remotely?

What Kate had not expected, were some counter protesters screaming about human filth and throwing molotov cocktails and wielding flamethrowers. Not okay. Not okay on any point, though Kate could seriously understand the desire maybe fire wasn’t the best response to people yelling about abominations.

Okay so the protesters were absolute dicks, and Kate knew that having listened to them for the better part of a few hours, but there were innocents everywhere. What a day to decide being a civilian was the better option. ”HEY!” She bellowed trying to use the pansy to put the residual fire out. It was big enough, certainly, but the unfortunate nature of molotovs was the spread. It wasn’t just that though, there were flamethrowers and while it was a most effective method of getting people to scatter, Kate was just pissed.

Lifting her pansy from where she’d used it to douse some of the fire and swung.

”Dick move!”


@WILLIAM STRYKER, open

Oct 12 2017, 07:20 PM

Every now and then Kate had to actually do a circuit as a Bishop. She had not only her own reputation as a socialite to maintain, but duty as Derek’s daughter and evident heir to the BIshop Publishing fortune. It wasn’t a public company so there were no shareholders to appease, it would ultimately just fall to her since Lauren had been stricken from the will. It was the world Kate had been born into, a world she’d been raised in. Sent to Hawthorne Academy, she learned among the best private education had to offer. Her peers were the children of diplomats, politicians, the rich elite, and Kate hated this world.

The shadowed games everyone played with each other, the half truths, the posturing. God it was so much easier behind the guise of Hawkeye where there was at least the honesty of someone blatantly robbing someone else, or being a general dick. Here there were the compliments that sounded and felt genuine because the person offering them was bred and trained to offer them so that the hidden distaste was never detected. You never knew.

Kate, in a gunmetal grey dress, her hair coiffed just so, and her face painted in such a way to hide any bruises and cuts she may have had beneath the layers of concealer, primer, foundation, contouring, highlighter, and setting spray had found a place to stand, champagne flute in hand as she surveyed the room. Not the people, necessarily, but the doors, windows, a way up to the balcony overhang, then the people. Who would cause her trouble if she decided a dramatic and desperate flight was the best option after all - damn the Bishop reputation.

Not even Warren was there to distract her, and that alone was criminal.

There was nowhere to hide her bow in her get up, though in a pinch her Fluevogs would work as a weapon. She wasn’t bad at hand to hand combat, but it wasn’t a skill she wanted to show off here, not that there was much need to. A fantasy at the least, a desperate dream for anything to break the monotony of smiles and polite chatter. She’d found the best escape route, up over the mass of people trying to be more important or more impressive than the other, and through the window. Down to the garden and over the wall. If she had her arrows with her, it would only take two.

”Two arrows, that’s it, that’s all I’d need.” This was murmured with her lips pressed against the flute before she tipped the champaign back. Under age, but when you had the money and the position - no one asked.


@T'CHALLA UDAKU | Please let me know if anything needs to be altered.
Oct 1 2017, 02:20 PM
Things had been disappearing for a while now, and the correlation wasn't one Kate was particularly fond of. Most of the little things were nothing, they were just trinkets, but it was always noted after Ash had come around for a bit. While Kate was woefully uninformed about life with little money, or life without money or a home at all - she still didn't understand why Ash just hadn't taken her up on the offer to stay at the townhouse. It wasn't like they didn't have enough room and she'd handle her dad if he ever found out.

He still hadn't noticed Barn was staying on the second floor so she doubted he'd notice Ash.

Kate didn't mind, she could afford to be stolen from, but it did hurt. All Ash had to do was ask for a thing, but maybe that was harder than Kate figured it would be. It wasn't until her mothers sapphires went missing that Kate felt the need for confrontation.

It wasn't that they were sapphires, or even the settings, it was simply that they had been her mothers and now they were Kates. So much had been lost when her mother died, her dad never spoke of her. She wasn't going to lose anything that had once been Mrs. Bishops if she could help it. Sapphires included.

Waiting for Ash to come back was out of the question, the sapphires might be gone by then, so Kate went out after her. She knew most of the other girl's usual haunts and after a while caught up to her.

"Hey, Ash..." breaking into a jog Kate situated herself beside her friend. On her search Kate'd had a bit to really think about how she was going to approach this, and ultimately shock factor had won out. Also candor, it was better to be straight forward with her friend over this than dance around the issue. "Look, I don't give a crap about the other things, but not the sapphires. Those were my mom's." Straight forward, to the point, and her hand was already reaching out to catch her friend at the elbow if she tried to dart.

There were a few goals for this confront, to get the sapphires back, and ultimately to get Ash to agree to just stay at the townhouse.

@ASHER ROSCOE
Sep 23 2017, 10:03 AM


Clint was in a rough way. At least, that was how Kate saw it. He’d hidden from everyone - for good reason really, but she took it personally that he’d hidden from her. In the same damn city. Different burb’s but the same over all city. It hurt. While she sort of understood, Kate had hoped that he’d know she wasn’t going to automatically take her sister’s side in things. Especially when Laura had also ghosted the Bishop family.

Not that Kate really blamed Laura for that either. She knew their father.

It wasn’t long after her finding Clint that Kate booked a flight to California. She didn’t know where exactly “Uncle Bee” was in California, but how hard could it be to find him? She at least had his number.

One of the very nice things about being a Bishop was being able to call ahead and have the family jet prepped for a last minute flight. Money may not make the world itself go ‘round, but it certainly made everything easier. Kate didn’t always get the actual struggle of the day to day, or even what TSA was like going through security, nor did she really understand that most people couldn’t just pop over to the airport and go wherever they wanted.

The fight itself didn’t take long, and Kate got in a solid nap so once she hit the ground she could get moving. Once free of the airport again Kate called up the mobile company and after much ado had them turn on family tracking and followed the pings her phone offered to find Barney. Mobile GPS was a gift from the gods, even if she and computers didn’t always get along (they were kind of the worst sometimes). When she was close Kate called.

”Hey, Uncle Bee! It’s Katie. What’s up old man? Not interrupting anything am I?”



@CHARLES BARTON

Sep 15 2017, 11:48 PM

Word had managed to filter back to the Bishop household in Manhattan that Laura had separated from Clint. Mr. Bishop had taken the news with aplomb, a single humm and an off handed comment about how his little girl had finally opened her eyes. Kate disagreed and her face said as much. Her father merely laughed and went off to his office leaving Kate to scowl after him. What in the world had possessed Laura to leave the best thing that had ever happened to the Bishop family? It had gotten her out of New York, away from the social circus they grew up on. Kate still rode the waves, she had her own way of escaping, but Laura had fled.

Clint had offered her something that no one in their social circle had. Kate wasn’t aware of it when she was a kid, but she’d gotten her own bonus out of the marriage.

She had to find him. The decision made, Kate shoved herself away from the great table and marched her way to her room to get dressed and start the hunt.

Weeks later she had a lead, and Kate looked up at the apartment building in Brooklyn. It had seen better days. Long, long ago. Maybe. If she squinted.

Who was she kidding? Kate slid her glasses down her nose and squinted at the structure dubiously. Was this really where he was hiding? Here? Weeks of hunting, tracking, and narrowing her field led her here. Sliding off her purple vespa, Kate tucked the helmet under her arm and made it to the door as it started to swing shut behind occupants leaving. It didn’t take her much more past that to find Clint’s apartment.

A hand lifted and hesitated and then brushed against the door in the customary knock. There were so many things she wanted to say to him. He’d been the one who’d gotten her out of the room at the farm so long ago. The one who taught her to shoot, and that she could be so much more than what happened to her.

”Oh my god I hate waiting.” Kate knocked again, harder. He was either going to answer the door or she was going to get creative with the lock.


@CLINT BARTON
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