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[indent][sub][color=A872FF][b]Chapter 1:[/b][/color] Look in a Mirror[/sub][sup][/sup][/indent][hr][indent][color=A872FF][sub][b]Sunset Diner [color=A872FF]♦[/color] Keasbey, New Jersey[/b][/sub][/color][/indent]

[Color=ECDE02]“So, are you going to lie and tell me you fell down the stairs again, Clint?”[/color]

Bobbi Morse cut into her omelet without looking up towards her breakfast companion. She seemed slightly out of place in the grungy diner, with most of its patrons wearing trucker hats and flannel. Agent Morse was instead dressed up in a suit and tie, her own sort of uniform. Of course, Clint Barton seemed more dressed like a cartoon character; he sported a bright purple t-shirt with a white thermal long-sleeve underneath, matched with non-descript jeans. His face was a tapestry of bruises and cuts, covered up in part by old Hawkeye[sup]TM[/sup] branded band-aids. He was busy chowing down on his own stack of pancakes drowning in maple syrup. He didn’t bother to answer his exes’ hypothetical. She already knew the answer. She always liked having all the answers.

[Color=ECDE02]“If you want back in the game, there are plenty of pieces in play. I’m currently running point on a potential deal going down in Madripoor. It’s well-suited for your kind of work.”[/color]

Clint swallowed his current bite hard, resting his knife and fork on his plate as he grabbed a couple paper napkins from the dispenser on the table. He wiped the sticky syrup from his lips, his eyes finally turning up to meet Bobbi’s. She stared back at him with a stoic expression. Clint read volumes of worry in the way her eyebrows furrowed slightly the longer she stared. [color=A872FF]“Bikers. Stalking my building. Either one of them was stalking my 80 year old neighbor to confess his love… or…”[/color]

[Color=ECDE02]“Or?”[/color]

Clint sighed. They both knew the answer. Speaking it just made it more real. [color=A872FF]“They’re trying to intimidate whoever lives in the building.”[/color]

Bobbi nodded to herself slightly, taking a sip from her coffee and stewing on that for a moment. She looked casually about the diner as she swallowed. [Color=ECDE02]“And why would they be doing that, Barton. What’s the motive?”[/color]

Clint shook his head. He hated when she talked to him like this, talking to him like he was some kid in her English Lit class. [color=A872FF]“Can you stop talking down to me like I’m an idiot, Bobbi?”[/color]

Bobbi’s lips pursed for a moment as she slowly turned her gaze back towards Clint. [Color=ECDE02]“You are an idiot, Clint.”[/color] She reached her free hand across the table towards his, grabbing on to it firmly. [Color=ECDE02]“You’re not stupid. You just refuse to look in the mirror and see yourself.”[/color]

Clint cocked his head slightly to the side. The insult was expected… but it wasn’t a jab. The words were vaguely familiar. Bobbi had called him an idiot so many times over the years it almost felt like his own name, but today it was different. There was meaning behind it. Some of it was hurt, some of it was pity. Clint didn’t want to dissect it further. He just looked at Bobbi as she pulled her hand away and checked her smart watch. [Color=ECDE02]“I’ve got to go, Clint. I’ll be out of town for a few days. Clean yourself up by the time I get back.”[/color]

She was gone within a minute, a crisp hundred dollar bill folded neatly under her plate. Clint ate the rest of his food quickly in silence, only nodding towards the money when the waitress came by with the check. He shook his head when she came back with change, and half-heartedly nodded along as she gave him a hug. He couldn't quite make out the words as he had taken out his hearing aid when Bobbi had left. Her words were still bouncing around in his head as he ducked out of the diner and made his way to his red and black 1970 Dodge Challenger. He sped off from the Jersey diner, following the signs back to NYC.

Clint slid his hearing aid back over his ear and turned on the radio, flipping through a few news stations. He tapped away on his steering wheel as he listened to the usual: politics, anti-mutant legislation, shootings. The same old news he listened to all the time. His eyes shifted to the same old scenes he was used to on this drive by now. A couple of the billboards had changed again. Clint's eyes drifted until he caught a tiny bit of movement in his rear-view mirror. He locked eyes with himself for a moment. His face seemed more purple and red than pale. It was no wonder Bobbi was concerned.

Clint turned his rear-view mirror away slightly, so he could no longer see his reflection.