June 5, 2014: Hawkeye visits the shop to pick up some supplies.

Brooklyn Superhero Supply Shop



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Mood Music:


It's been a 'little while' since Agent Clinton Barton has made a stop into the storefront of the Superhero Supply Store. And after all, who could really blame him? Resting up after being infected with a zombie virus, being shot at by two 'supers' without backup (until the end), being dispatched to all ends of the Earth for support and, well.. leaping into a giant 2 mile deep hole that had been the UN, right next to the Triskelion.

The sound of the revving of a motorcycle as it's parked on the sidewalk in front of the store can probably be heard, and once the engine is cut, the kickstand is dropped and the rider dismounts, pulling his helmet off to reveal the SHIELD agent, known as Hawkeye. Bags are strapped to the back of the bike, and once he hangs his helmet on one of his handlebars, he digs into one, removing a stainless steel canister. A couple more seconds pass as he continues to dig through the bag, and a smaller bag is pulled. Satisfied, he turns about and makes to enter the store, the *ding* of the bell giving away his presence.

Dressed for the weather; jeans and a t-shirt, there is certainly evidence of his being in possibly more than one fight… the scrapes, cuts and bruises on his arm, and the healing nicks on his face. (Thank you bullet shrapnel.)


It's been a busy 'little while' at BSSC, although not really as 'exciting' as Hawkeye's time has been. The summer writing courses for the kids have just gotten started, and, while she's not directly involved, Annie still does a lot to help out as she's able. Whenever she's not fitting capes or taking sidekick applications.

The sound of the motorcycle is just another bit of noise that drifts in from the street as a couple of tourists leave, and the young clerk pays it no mind. If she had, she might have gone and hidden somewhere, to avoid the death machine, not so much the death rider. The rapid-fire ring of the bell between the leaving of patrons and the arrival of the newest draws Annie's attention, and she pushes her glasses up on her nose as she looks to the door. For a moment she peers owlishly at the approaching SHIELD agent, taking in the new dings and dents on display. It's a shame that her co-worker isn't in today, to coo over the ruggedness of Hot Arrow Guy and how those nicks just make him even hotter.

Just the thought of it is enough to make Annie roll her eyes, but she schools her expression quickly as Clint approaches. "Hey there," she offers, in her typically neo-awkward way, complete with a little wave of her hand. "Here for your latest order?" Which is sort of a silly question, because duh, why else?


The fact that Hawkeye parks his bike on the sidewalk is more than enough to gain the scowls of the tourists as they leave, giving the archer a little more of a wide berth as they depart and he enters. Clint keeps the door open until after they leave before letting it go with a booted foot. With such tourist pleasantries taken care of, he crosses the distance between door and counter quickly and easily, setting the stainless steel canister, now revealing itself to be a coffee carafe, onto the top of the counter. The bag, then, is set second, and pulling out a couple of mugs, looks halfway pleased with himself.

"I brought this time," comes as a greeting. "If it's too strong, I apologize. Grabbed it from the office."

Looking over the store, checking its patrons, Clint nods slowly. "Haven't gotten any use out of the piles you helped with yet, but the taser tips worked like a charm." De-powered Taskmaster, which probably helped save his bacon, as it were. "So, I'll need to add that to the list."


Annie watches curiously as Clint reaches into the bag, then a half smile quirks her lips as the cups are produced. "That's really nice," she says. There's a beat of a pause before she jerks one thumb to motion over her shoulder. "Walt brought in some cannoli and, amazingly, there are still a couple left in the back room. Wanna….?" The lets the invitation trail off, the gist of it hopefully clear. While, from other clerks at the store, the suggestion of heading to the back room might have ulterior motives, the thought never occurs to Annie. She's just thinking coffee and cannoli would be a nice break.

"I can add a note to the stuff Handy is already working on. He may even have some extras that you can take with in the meantime."

She doesn't exactly wait for confirmation that he's accepted the invitation, but turns and starts to lead the way. Down a dimly lit aisle at the back of the shop there's a plain black door, unobtrusive, indeed even unnoticeable in the dimness, which leads to the restricted part of the business.


"Figured you probably weren't up to the ride yet," is quipped as he takes the supplies he's brought and begins to make his way around the counter to follow. "Too soon?" Hawk nods his head in acknowledgment of the offer, as if following wasn't enough, "I haven't had that in.. I don't know how long. Never think to buy it."

Down the darkened corridor, he's looking at the walls, the different areas of the building now as it unfolds. He wouldn't be too surprised, honestly, if there was a basement complex and.. and.. "That'd be great. It really helped in levelling the field a little more. Granted, still a super, but one without a suit. Just had guns to deal with after that on one of them." And, yes.. he survived.

"How's things been? Business good? I noticed the sign up sheet for your creative writers. Anyone looking promising in there?"


The quip does get a raised brow, and a muttered, "Yeah… bit soon." There's even a hint of sarcasm, although the words are low. In a more natural voice, Annie says, "Walt is pretty good about stopping for something for everyone. And when it's cannoli I have to put a couple aside for Handy if he's not here, or he'll skin me." Another beat. "Uh… not really." Just in case her 'joke' wasn't quite clear.

There's barely a pause in their progress as Annie presses her thumb to a small panel on the wall, and then a click of the lock disengaging. A push swings the door inward, and she leads the way into the inner sanctuary, only seen by certain employees and the occasional superhero. It's pretty much just a room with a workbench along one wall. It's long and roomy, and clearly divided into two sections; one that's scattered with various bits of technology and the other that's a bit more tidy (but not by much) and various bits that clearly relate to weaponry. There are also several chairs around, a small fridge, and a coffee maker, which happens to be empty, so yay for SHIELD agents bearing caffeine! Next to the forelorn coffee maker is a bakery box and a stack of napkins.

As she leads the way in, her 'work cape' billowing behind her, Annie glances back over her shoulder at Hawkeye. Finally she voices a question that's never been put out there. "Are you… like… a guy?" Meaning, if he catches the drift, as opposed to being a super. For the moment, his questions about business go unanswered.


Hawkeye whistles low as the *click* sounds and there's a not-so-begrudging pressed-lip nod as he's ushered into the sanctum sanctorum of the store. Looking around, he looks impressed as he turns about one full turn before finding his attention back on the coffee and bakery boxes. The various bits of weaponry in various states of doing and un- hasn't escaped his notice.

"Hell of an op," comes, his tones echoing his expression. "'Course, I figured that you guys didn't outsource. You're too good for that."

A wheelie chair is commandeered, and once he's set the coffee thermos down, and the mugs, he flops into the seat backwards. Canting his head to the side, he lets out a quiet chuckle, and is coupled with a nod. "Yeah.. just a regular guy playing with the Big Boys." There's something under the statement, as if it's truly something that he thinks about almost all the time. The need to be the best.. and when he's not, it's either time to be buried, or, if he's lucky, time to retire. Perhaps he catches himself before thoughts get too much deeper and the chuckle brings forth a confident smile. "So far, so good." Leaning forward in his seat, the back of the chair pressing against his chest, he makes a reach for a mug. "Haven't missed a shot yet."


There's another clack of the lock as the door closes behind the pair, but on the inside there is no matching thumb reader. Once you're in, if you don't belong it's too late and if you do belong you don't have to get scanned again to get out. While there's nothing obvious, it's likely there are other security measures for the 'if you don't belong' contingency. "I'm sure it's nothing like what Tony Stark would have," Annie says lightly, her smile flashing again. "But we get the results we need. And if Handy has 'special needs' he has the resources."

Although Clint brought the coffee, Annie still plays hostess, opening the thermos, pouring out into the mugs. Near the coffee maker are accoutrements like cream and sugar, as well as a couple things it's pretty clear Handy wouldn't have added, like cinnamon and a small bottle of vanilla extract. "Help yourself to anything you need to fix up your coffee," she offers, turning her attention to the bakery box. The flipped open lid reveals four cannoli, and Annie nods. "Good, we can each have one and Handy will still be happy to get two."

She pauses to look at him again while he answers her question, regarding him in the light of this expanded information, not venturing to speak again until she turns back to fish some napkins out of a holder for them. "That's pretty impressive." The simple words aren't simpering or flattering, but just openly stated as she starts to fuss with her own coffee, adding sugar, creamer and a dash of cinnamon. "It's pretty easy to just say 'oh look at me, I'm so strong and special', but it's not so much to just be doing what you think is right. Especially against people who do have that 'special' advantage."


Hawk takes his coffee black, and it's fine. Holding out his hand for the canoli, he offers a quiet 'thanks' in the offrance, grabbing a napkin just to prove that he's not that much of a slob. Waiting for her to take a seat, he nods, his head bouncing.

"Kind of a touchy subject with me, really. But yeah.. it's all me. No special powers, no special abilities. No seeing through walls or climbing up the sides of a building without a rope. If I miss, it's all my fault. So, gym a few times a week, archery range even more." Which doesn't leave much time, with work and training, for much else.

"And you," now Clint takes that first bite of canoli and looks to savor it a moment before he points it at her to underscore his words, "You haven't told me how things were. You know.. how you're doing. How the writing thing is.. because I'm assuming you're in charge of it?"


Annie sits, finally, and takes a cannoli for herself, immediately taking a bite. As she chews her head tilts, listening to Clint over the light crunch of the cannoli shell. Her expression is thoughtful, and once she's swallowed, she's pretty quick to point out, "You shouldn't be touchy about it. You've got the most to lose, but you don't seem to be exactly backing down from anything." Cuts, bruises and abrasions noted. "And, not to belittle anyone, honestly, but putting on a suit? That's kinda not even in the same league as going out there, just you, and doing your thing." Slight shoulders shrug, "I think if I did that and anyone gave me a hard time about it, I'd kick 'em in the kneecap."

Still, there's no sense of fawning or fangirling about the words, just statement of fact as Annie sees it.

There's another smile as Clint bites into his treat and pauses over it. They're from a little Italian restaurant just up the street from BSSC, called Anita Bella. The question gets a negative headshake in response, "Oh no, I help out with the kids when I can, but mostly I'm sales. And… this," she adds, motioning with a flap of her hand at the tech side of the workbench. "Handy and I are the only two with full knowledge of all this super secret stuff, except for management, of course. He's pointy things," and booming things, but Hawkeye is a pointy things kinda guy, "and I'm things that go bloop." Sometimes bang. But mostly bloop.


"Yeah, but when the bad guys aren't your normal guy?" Hawk chuckles and shakes his head and shrugs. "It's what I do. Thought I'd settle down once, but my work and a homelife just don't really seem to work well together. And, work isn't a 9 to 5 sort of job. Who wants something like that?" Particularly when said spouse is a 'regular guy in a sea of supers'?

Another bite of canoli comes, the cracking of the shell now giving way to a crumble, and he's pushing the shards into the sweet cheese filling. "I'm not complaining, though. Really."

The provenance of the canoli is given a nod in acknowledgment as he pushes the rest of the Italian pastry into his mouth, chews, and washes it down with some coffee. Though now…

"Bloop? What.. like.. goop?"


The question catches Annie off guard and she has to bring a hand up to cover her mouth to stop cannoli crumbs being spit at Hawkeye. And he thought super villains were tough to deal with. When she's had a short laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement behind corrective lenses, her head shakes again. "No, technology. Taking things apart, putting them back together, hopefully without explosions or fire." But really, they've been little explosions and fire, when it's happened. Honest. "Computers, gadgets, stuff like that."


"Oh!" Here, Hawkeye actually laughs. "Right. Like.." and he gestures generically, recalling her aid in his tips. "Sorry. I don't see, well, hear that as 'bloop'. I think more.. 'buzz and whirr'." Narrowing blue eyes, he cants his head and raises his brows, his voice taking a teasing tenor, "Unless you're a super and you can actually -hear- the currents…" He's -pretty- sure she's a normal girl behind those glasses, but who knows these days?


There's a speculative nod before Annie agrees, "There are a lot of buzzes and whirrs." Again, Clint garners a smirk. "Have you ever seen a supe wearing glasses?" As if reminded of that fact, her hand comes up, pushing them up onto her nose once more, leaving a little bit of cannoli cream on the plastic frame. Dainty.

She pops up from her seat rather abruptly. "Let me see if Handy has any of those tips you want, before I forget and you walk out of here without them." Annie moves over to her partner's side of the work space, but doesn't move to touch anything as she looks over the bench. She's learned not to touch Handy's stuff, it's like reaching into a bear trap sometimes. Looking down, she spies a box that she does touch, pulling it out and squatting, flipping the lid off. "Right on top, too, thank goodness." She pulls out a smaller box that rattles very slightly, and opens the lid to peer in. "Half a dozen ok for now?"


Another laugh sounds, and Clint puts a hand up in mock defense. "Okay, okay.. you're right. Haven't ever seen a supe wearing glasses. They've not only got 20/20, but they can probably see through lead and concrete." Rising, he turns the chair around and sets it back where it was while draining his mug. (See? He can walk and chew gum at the same time, too!) Once he's done, he makes his way back to the coffee table and cleans the mugs to set them back in his bag. "I'll keep the coffee here?"

Annie's jumping up gains his attention, and following a short distance behind, he peers over her shoulder. "Should be good for now. I've got something in mind for an ECM," Electronic Counter Measures, "but I don't have the schematics yet. Explosives, I've got enough on. It's the taser that really seems to work at the moment. Oh.. and a line carrier." With grapple. "Used all of mine in the 2 mile jump." Painful.. but it sets Hawk as being there at ground zero on that news day.

Holding out his hand for the tips, Clint closes his hand around the newly gained equipment. "Thanks. And.. thanks for the canoli. And, uh.. the tour."

Soon after, he lets himself out, and finds the way back out from the back office, his hand dropping the points into his pocket as he heads out the door.

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