Soooo option b was the most voted upon choice! I present to you: the chapter where Cat is an idiot stowaway and you are all willing spectators of it!

We got some seeeeriously long reviews last chapter and it was awesome. Notable mentions are guest, NoobMaster69, smh204, salty milkshake, CookieWorkout, SabrinaInWonderland001, M, and introvertedserialkiller. Your amazing thoughts and suggestions were recorded and will hopefully make an appearance in later chapters. To the rest of you: rest assured, you are not forgotten. All of your reviews were responded to (i believe) unless you were a guest in which case here are the responses:

M: Thanks for being a consistent reviewer, I remember you from when I first started this story. :D Jonathan and Cat will def be good friends, he'll make more appearances in the later chapters.

amy: thanks for reviewing consistently as well :) always appreciate it. also, your previous suggestions have been noted

ShunGod: thanks for the feedback, sorry u didn't get option a

CookieWorkout: ahhh sorry that you felt uncomfortable during the broken arm scene!

NoobMaster69: No, I fucking love YOUR REVIEW! so long and glorious ahhh. awesome feedback and awesome suggestions! really great thoughts, and i def agree with all of them. trevor and jail suggestion accepted SO HARD

guest: you, guest, need to come up with a better name because your review was seriously amazing. made my day. your idea about cat turning evil is very interesting, you're absolutely right it would make the story sm more interesting. i'll have to play around with that idea to see if it'll make sense in the plot. love your feedback and your review.

ok im done. enjoy:

Cat was not going to school.

She had made the decision approximately five minutes ago, which was a mere thirty-five seconds after she had woken up. It had taken her twenty seconds to gather all of the major deciding factors that went into the decision calculation, ten seconds to brainstorm possible solutions, and another five seconds to land on the final solution: skipping school.

There were many reasons for this course of action.

Reason one was that school was stupid. Doing half elementary school and half high school was complicated and confusing. Elementary school was simply boring, whereas high school was boring coupled with idiot teenagers who thought they were cool or something. Courtesy of Tattletale Steve, she was no longer "allowed" to write other people's essays. Since her primary source of income had vanished, she saw no purpose in going to school.

Reason two was Flash. He hadn't been pleased when Cat told him he was going to have to start BS-ing his own essays. Granted, she had said some other things to him, including the words "so you can shove that up your—" in front of the whole cafeteria. He and his goonies had made her public enemy no. 1. Fortunately, beating up a nine year old girl was lower than even Flash could stoop, which meant he had to find other methods to mess with her. They tripped her in the hallways, made snide comments about snotty child prodigies, and were generally a giant inconvenience.

Reason three was that people kept coming up to her and asking about the story behind her cast. This was problematic because it required Cat to a) actually talk to these morons, b) explain a story which she had told a thousand times and would much rather purge from her memory, c) indulge in the many follow-up questions, and lastly, d) allow them to sign and doodle on her cast. To be clear, the doodles from the high schoolers were not much better— possibly worse— than the doodles from the fourth-graders.

Reason four was Chelsea. She had become a constant source of annoyance during class. She'd been more perceptive than Cat thought. She had not stopped needling Cat about Steve. She had brought a magazine to school with the Avengers on the cover. She pointed out how her "Uncle Stanley'' looked exactly like Captain America. When they were supposed to be working on a project, she showed Cat videos of Steve's interviews. Even Cat had to admit(although not to Chelsea's face), it was pretty hard not to notice the similarities.

"Catalina—" Chelsea wouldn't stop calling her that— "he looks and sounds exactly like him. He has a motorcycle. And he's so muscular he's like a Greek god."

Cat had made a face. "Gross."

"Your uncle 'Stanley'— I bet that's not even his real name— is Captain America," Chelsea had finished. "You're stupid for not noticing before."

Her whispers were confined to their table group, but luckily T.J. and Lance remained pretty skeptical.

"Uh, I think Cat would know if her uncle was Captain America."

"Yeah, it's a pretty hard secret to keep."

"Ever noticed a red, white, and blue shield lying around the house, Cat? Or a suit, for that matter?"

Chelsea had regarded them with disgust. "You're all idiots. You didn't see him! He looked exactly like this guy." She jabbed her finger at the magazine. "That just doesn't happen in real life. I'm going to prove you all wrong."

She was scarily close to the truth. Chelsea may have been an annoying spoiled brat, but she was an annoying spoiled brat who would stop at nothing to prove that Cat was wrong. So, Cat had been avoiding her at all costs. This was not only ineffective but also difficult and it proved to be hazardous to her health, for reasons that Cat would rather not elaborate on.

Thus, the solution to all of her problems was simple. What better way to solve all her problems than to take away the root of where they all started?

Cat was no stranger to this solution. She'd done it plenty of times when she'd been living with uncle Trevor. It had been a cakewalk. They'd lived in a pretty sketchy neighborhood, with low-quality schools and lesser quality faculty. The teachers couldn't give a fig whether or not she showed up, as long as she didn't bring down the class average on tests. She figured it wouldn't be much more difficult with her new schools.

With this in mind, Cat played the part of Responsible Student Who Was Definitely Going To School perfectly. Natasha had arrived back from her mission just a week prior. Cat didn't want to risk anything, seeing as she was living with a former assassin, and Natasha had been right— the walls in the apartment were paper-thin. She dragged herself out of bed, made getting-ready sounds in the bathroom, poured herself a bowl of cereal, had a small but intense argument with Natasha about the benefits about replacing the milk with coffee in her Fruit Loops, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and hurried out the door like it was any other boring school day.

Once she made it out of the building, Cat instantly slowed. She was in no particular hurry, but she did have a plan to revise. Based on her intensive recon(inconspicuously asking Natasha questions about her day over cereal in the morning), Cat had found out that Natasha would be going on a short mission that day. She wouldn't be back until way past the time when school ended, which was perfect because it meant that Cat didn't have to do any sneaking back into the apartment.

The plan went like this: Cat would go on a short walk around the block, buying her just enough time until Natasha left the apartment for her mission. Then she'd go back up through the apartment via fire escape and do whatever she pleased. Just in case Natasha was planning any unexpected returns— which she did frequently— at approximately 3:30 p.m., Cat would grab her backpack, walk in the direction of her school, double back and re-enter the apartment like she'd just gotten back to school.

In conclusion, it was a perfectly flawless plan with no errors.

Minor correction: Cat had underestimated many of her abilities. She was severely lacking in the category that allowed her to predict the future.

She was unable to predict that Natasha would be on her way out the door just as Cat was returning to the apartment from her short detour. She was also unable to predict that Natasha would be in such a position that there was no place for Cat to hide— except to crouch behind a parked car, blocking her from Natasha's view. She then waited for Natasha to pass by her, but instead she headed straight in her direction. For a moment, Cat's limbs seized in horror, thinking that she'd been spotted, but it wasn't her that Natasha was heading towards.

Just her luck. Said car happened to be just the car Natasha was driving to her mission. Another thing Cat had been unable to predict.

It made it impossible to evade her. If Cat tried to make a break for it, Natasha would undoubtedly see her and then a conversation about why she wasn't in school would ensue. If she stayed put, Natasha would notice her anyway because— how could she not? Cat was six feet away, hidden right under her nose. As Natasha approached the driver's seat, Cat circled around the car until she was just behind the trunk, directly opposite to Natasha's position.

Then, Cat saw an opportunity. Natasha had unlocked the trunk. Now, it was hanging ajar, just a crack. Cat risked a glance over at Natasha. She was reaching in the front seat, appearing to be searching for something. Cat sized up the trunk and peered inside. It was mostly empty and surprisingly wide. And she was tiny, making it an ideal hiding spot. Cat quickly considered her options. There was no time to run— and too much open space to risk being seen if she did. This was her chance.

Heart hammering in her chest, Cat looked to Natasha again. She was still busy. Cat lifted the trunk up— to her relief, it didn't creak— and the small gap widened into an opening that she could silently slip into. Her leg went in first, then her torso and her limbs followed. Her head disappeared underneath the trunk and she quietly rolled inside. From inside, she lowered the trunk so that there was only a thin sliver of light remaining.

Just like she'd predicted, the trunk was weirdly spacious. There was a lot of stuff. In the daylight it would've probably been interesting, but in the dark they were obstacles that Cat needed to navigate herself around. She groped around in the dark, looking for something to hide under in case Natasha decided to check in the trunk. Her fingers brushed over a feathery-light material. It was thin and expansive. A blanket.

She forced herself back until she was the furthest she could be from the opening of the trunk. Still operating as silently as possible, she buried under the blanket. She heard faraway footsteps to her left. Natasha. She tried to let her muscles relax, forcing herself to be as still as possible. Her breathing slowed until it was barely perceptible.

The trunk lifted open again. Under the blanket, Cat was thrown into light. In the corner of the trunk, curled into a ball, she felt securely hidden and safe. She heard Natasha rummaging around the trunk and throwing items in there. Cat didn't trust herself to move, or even breathe. She placed a hand on her heart, which was beating so fast that it seemed like it was trying to violently high-five it.

Eventually, the trunk slammed down again. Cat could hear Natasha get into the front seat. She fiddled with the radio, finally deciding on a song that she liked on some pop station that only played old hits. Then there was the putter-putter-kick of the engine starting up, and she felt the car lurch forward and start. They were off. She felt both relieved and horrified. She hadn't gotten caught… but she was trapped.

There was a ridge digging into her back. Cat was pretty sure it was a gun, or at least some type of weapon. She tried to shift herself into a comfortable position, but it was impossible. It was dark, stuffy, and there was very little room to move.

The conditions threw her back to a similar memory. Back when Cat still lived with him, Trevor would lock her in the closet as a punishment whenever he felt particularly cruel. The closet was small and cramped, and stuffed with so many boxes that Cat could just barely fit into it. He knew she hated it with all her being, so he did it whenever she smashed his beers, talked back to him, or minorly inconvenienced him in any way. Sometimes he would leave her there for hours. She would curl into a ball, feeling hungry and sad and angry and powerless.

She supposed she should thank him. It was where she'd learned to get over her silly fear of small spaces. She'd learned to close her eyes, breathe, and pretend that she was in an odd dream. She'd imagine that she was suspended in space, and there were stars floating all around her. She'd recall all of the constellations she'd memorized and go over them one by one.

"Andromeda," Cat recalled. "Aquarius. Cancer."

Her voice was shaky, and she wondered why. When she reached up to her face, she found it to be wet with tears. Was she crying? She couldn't be. It was only sweat— the trunk was hot and stuffy. She took a breath.

"Fornax," she continued, more steadily, "Hydra. Indus."

Ten minutes later, Cat discovered that it was becoming harder to breathe. She was getting a cramp, and there was no space to stretch out. The ridge digging into her back was getting more troublesome. She was beginning to think that maybe locking herself in the trunk of a car wasn't such a great idea. She had no idea how long she would have to be trapped in there, or what she was going to do when she got out.

Or how she was going to get out.

"Crap."

How was she going to get out? More importantly, how was she going to do it without getting caught? Why had she chosen the trunk to hide in, of all places? Why couldn't she just have made a run for it? What if she suffocated to death? What if she died right here, in this very dark, unwelcoming trunk? God, why did she never think these things through? Curse her ADHD impulsiveness!

Calm down, Cat thought. Panicking won't do any good.

"Cygnus. Grus. Hercules. Edridanus," Cat whispered to herself. Her hand remained on her heart, waiting for the beats to slow. They didn't.

Instead, Cat focused on what she could hear. The rumble of the engine. The rustling of the blanket fabric. The sound of… wait. Was that Natasha? Singing along to the pop radio station? Cat listened for a few more beats. It definitely was. She felt a surge of glee so strong that it briefly surpassed how horrible it was in that trunk. Natasha Romanoff, badass spy-slash-assassin and Avenger, sung along to Justin Bieber's Baby on the radio. Cat was never getting better blackmail material than that.

The car came to a stop. The music was turned off. Were they getting out? But Natasha didn't move. Cat could hear another set of footsteps approaching the car. The passenger door swung open, and there was a faint greeting. Whoever it was barely had time to throw themselves inside before Natasha floored the gas pedal, taking off with a roar of the engine.

"Jesus, Nat." The other voice sounded familiar, but it was too muffled for Cat to identify it. "What's the rush?"

"No rush," Natasha's voice came from the left. "So how are the kids?"

"Doing good. Nathaniel did his first cartwheel yesterday. Lila's gotten it into her head that she needs to learn how to knit. And Cooper's shooting bullseye after bullseye."

"He's like his old man. How old is he again?"

"Nat, don't pretend like you don't know their ages."

Cat pressed her ear closer to where the voice was coming from. It sounded familiar. A male's voice; deep and gravelly. Whoever it was had to be working the mission with Natasha. One of the Avengers, maybe. Not Steve— she knew what his voice sounded like. Not Iron Man. Not the Hulk. It suddenly dawned on her.

Hawkeye. Barton, the guy who'd helped Natasha interrogate her at the safehouse Cat had broken into.

"What? You've got so many now, you can't expect me to keep track of all of them."

"I know for a fact you keep this dainty little calendar with everyone's birthday written in," he was saying. "It's cute."

Cat's eyes widened. So. Much. Blackmail. Material.

Natasha's tone didn't betray anything. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"One day you'll make a great grandma."

Cat imagined Natasha whirling on him, that scary don't-test-me look appearing in her eyes. "You tell anyone and I'll kill you."

Clint didn't seem fazed. "You love saving my ass too much to do that."

Natasha's phone started ringing.

"Who's this?" Clint asked.

There was a pause, then Natasha said, "It's admin from Cat's school."

A spike of alarm shot through Cat. Partly because she'd forgotten that her elementary school took attendance pretty seriously, and partly because it was getting harder and harder to breathe. A sheen of sweat was coating her face. A horrible, dark pit had opened up at the bottom of her stomach. As she struggled for another hot, stuffy breath, she pricked up her ears to hear what was going on.

"Cat?" Clint echoed. "That girl who's living with you?"

Cat was surprised to find out that Natasha had been telling other people about her.

"Yes," Natasha replied shortly. "Give that to me."

She answered the call, taking on the persona of a concerned suburban mom. "Yes, this is she… Absent? Okay… I see… I must've forgotten to call in today." She gave a high-pitched laugh. "How silly of me! Well, Cat's sick today, so she won't be coming in… Yes, it's been terrible… chills, fever, coughing… Oh, no worries! Glad to clear it up. Will that be all? You have a nice day, too."

Cat was kicking herself for being such an idiot. How could she have forgotten about admin?

"What's wrong?" Clint asked as she hung up.

"Cat hasn't shown up at school. Weird, I saw her leave this morning."

"How worried do we need to be?"

"I don't know," said Natasha grimly. "She's never been a fan. She might just be skipping."

Cat couldn't handle it any longer. She had run out of air. She kicked the back of the trunk as hard as she could, and yelled, "HELP! NATASHA! IT'S ME! I'M HERE! IN THE TRUNK! IT'S REALLY HARD TO BREATHE!"

There was a loud thumping noise, and Clint cried, "What the hell!"

Natasha yanked the car sideways and slammed on the brakes. Two car doors opened and slammed, followed by footsteps scurrying towards the trunk. It lifted, and sunlight poured inside. Cat threw up her hands to shield her eyes, the sun blinding her. A cool, wonderful breeze whipped at her, and she took a long, deep breath, filling her lungs with air.

"Oh my god," Cat gasped, wiping the sweat from her forehead, "it's so hot in there. I thought I was going to die."

Clint was dressed in the same black gear she'd seen him in last, rubbing the back of his head like he'd bashed it painfully against something. He looked stunned. He turned to Natasha. "Did you know she was in there?"

She gave him a look that read No, dumbass, I didn't know she was in there.

"Hi, I'm Cat," she told him. "We know each other."

"Yeah," he said, looking at Natasha. "From the safehouse."

Natasha looked pissed. "You better have a fucking good explanation for this."

"...so while you were distracted, I hopped inside of the trunk and covered myself with the blanket," Cat finished. She tried to gauge Natasha's expression from the portion of it she could make out from the rearview mirror. Her right eye and eyebrow gave nothing away.

Natasha was stonily silent. Cat imagined she was planning her murder in her head. The sinking pit in her stomach had expanded to a black hole. Not only had her plan failed spectacularly, she was now a burden to Natasha on her mission. She didn't mean for everything to go so wrong.

"Well," Clint said, determinedly looking out the window, "this isn't awkward."

"I'm really sorry." Cat apologized, swallowing her pride. The words felt alien on her tongue; she couldn't remember the last time she'd apologized for something important. "I didn't mean to sabotage your mission."

Still nothing from Natasha.

Cat looked at Clint for help. He averted his eyes. "Don't look at me, kid. I don't want to get on her bad side."

What scared Cat even more than the uncharacteristic silence was Natasha's driving. It had gotten dangerously violent. She was going just one or two notches above the speed limit, weaving through the traffic like they were in a car chase. Natasha was jerking the wheel so hard on each turn that Cat had to dig her fingernails into the armrest to stop herself from smacking right into the window on her side. At the stop lights, they stopped so suddenly that Cat lurched forward, smacking into the seat belt every time.

After one or two turns, Cat mustered up the nerve to try again. "Thanks for lying to admin about me being sick."

Nothing.

Clint turned to Natasha desperately. "C'mon, Tasha. This is getting painful to watch. Just respond to the kid."

She ignored him.

Cat released her seat belt and leaned forward so that her face was level with Clint and Natasha's. That did it.

"Put your seat belt back on," Natasha said with eerie calmness.

"Will you answer me if I do?"

"Put it back on."

"Are you mad?" Cat asked, sinking back into her seat and clicking the seat belt back on. "I mean, on a scale of one to ten, how mad are you?"

Her voice remained scarily nonchalant, but it was like unscrewing the lid of a soda bottle that had been carelessly shaken, tossed, and bounced around. All of the tension that had been bottled up inside just exploded out.

"You skipped school planning to sneak back into the apartment, but instead you recklessly stowed away in the trunk of my car— brilliant idea, by the way, you could have goddamn suffocated. And because we're operating in a narrow window of time, it's too late to take you back—"

Cat brightened. "Wait, really?"

Natasha turned to give her a withering look.

Cat promptly reverted to staring at her shoes. "I mean, I'm very sorry. Again."

"So I now have you to worry about on top of this classified, risky, and highly dangerous mission. So take a guess. Exactly how mad am I?"

"Uh… very?"

"And in what reality did you expect this foolish plan of yours to work?" Natasha continued. "I mean, did you honestly think you wouldn't get caught hiding in the back of a car?"

"It was working pretty well up to this point," Cat muttered.

"What was that?" Natasha asked sharply, swerving again at a turn.

"Nothing," she said quickly, holding onto the seat belt for dear life.

Clint looked at Natasha. "Easy on the steering wheel there, Tasha."

Natasha threw him a dirty look. Clint put his hands up defensively, looking at Cat as if to say, Hey, you're mad at her, not me.

"We're heading to a safehouse," Natasha told Cat, her tone still icy.

"Cool," Cat began, but Natasha cut her off.

"No, not cool. Listen. Here's what's going to happen when we get there. You're not going to start any conversations. You're going to stay in a room and do your homework."

"But I've already finished—"

"I don't care," Natasha said cuttingly. "Find something to do. The point is, you're going to stay there the entire time. You're not going to start a fight and break your other arm, you're not going to con anyone into giving you money, and you're especially not allowed to annoy anyone for your own entertainment. Got it?"

"Okay," Cat said meekly. For once, she was out of clever rebukes.

Natasha studied Cat's face in the rearview mirror. The corners of her eyes softened, just barely. "Have you been crying?"

Cat looked away furiously, defenses slamming back up. "What? No!"

"Your eyes are red and puffy."

"Well, they're not."

Natasha didn't reply, and the car filled with tense silence once again.

"So," Clint said, "Cat, we haven't properly met yet—"

"Clint, don't."

"Okay."

The safehouse they arrived at was a small cabin located in the middle of nowhere, hidden amongst a small thicket of trees in a forest just west of civilization. There was some kind of large black jet parked behind it. The next thing she saw was—

"No freaking way. Is that Iron Man?" Cat whispered.

"Romanoff, Barton!" Iron Man called, swooping out of the sky to land three feet away from the car. "The super secret spy duo finally make an appearance. About time. We've been waiting."

"Hey man, how ya been?" Clint stepped out of the car and clapped Iron Man on the back.

Natasha told Cat, "Stay in the car," before following behind Clint. "Finally learned what it feels like to be the one waiting rather than the one everyone's waiting on?" she asked Iron Man.

"Tried it, didn't care for it. Moving on to more important matters, Cap and I have a bet going on what took you so long." He pointed at the two of them. "I say you two were canoodling." Iron Man turned towards Natasha. "Don't worry, I haven't told Banner yet. I'm saving it for when we need the green guy to come out. Speak of the devil."

Two figures were emerging from within the cabin. Cat recognized one of them— it was impossible to mistake that patriotic red, white, and blue suit for anyone other than Steve Rogers. The other was someone whose picture Cat had only seen on the back of textbooks. Dr. Bruce Banner, or the Hulk. He didn't look particularly threatening, dressed simply in a pair of purple pants and a collared shirt.

He pushed his glasses up his nose, looking exasperated. "Tell me what, Tony? Do I even want to know?"

"That's a good question. Romanoff was just about to tell me what took her and Katniss so long to get here. And make sure it's the truth," he said, pointing at her. "I have ten bucks riding on this and I can't afford to lose."

"We had a stowaway," Natasha said.

"Damn it!" Iron Man turned to Steve. "How was I not right?"

Steve spread his hands. "It's a mystery to me. Looks like no one wins."

"At least I get to keep my ten bucks." Iron Man shook his head. "You know what? No, I'm not buying it. Who was the stowaway? Huh?"

Banner crossed his arms. "I'm curious about this as well."

Iron Man peered inside of the tinted windows. "I bet they're in this very car. FRIDAY, scan car for stowaways— aha! Found her!" He paused. "It appears to be a very small her. And she's giving me the middle finger. Nat, tell me you didn't kidnap this girl."

"What exactly do you think I do with my free time, go around kidnapping young girls?"

"Wouldn't surprise me."

"You can come out now," Natasha told Cat.

Cat opened the door, feeling awestruck. They were all towering above her. Her eyes landed on a friendly face. She waved at him. "Hi, Steve."

"What am I, chopped liver?" asked Iron Man.

Steve smiled at her, equal parts shocked and pleased. "Hey, Cat."

Iron Man's face plate slid up. Tony Stark stared back at her. Then to Steve. Then back to Cat. Then finally to Steve. "Did I miss something? Do you know this girl?"

"I do," Steve said, with just a touch of smugness. "Contrary to personal beliefs, there are some things I know that you don't, Tony."

"Who is she?" Iron Man looked directly at Cat. "Who are you?"

"I'm Cat," she offered. "The stowaway."

"Right. That helps me with absolutely nothing. What is your relation to a particular redheaded spy?"

"She's the orphan Nat and I caught sneaking into one of our safehouses," Clint told Stark. "She's been living with Natasha for the past few months."

Tony Stark looked around. "Seriously? Am I the only one here who didn't have a clue this girl existed?" He shook his head. "My head is exploding. This can't be happening. Is this a dream?" Stark asked Banner. "Tell me it's a dream."

"I think I'm enjoying this, actually," Steve said to Clint.

"Well, I had no idea," Banner said. He extended a hand to Cat. "Hi, I'm Bruce."

"I'm Cat," Cat said for the second time. "Nice to meet you. I've read your work."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Oh— really?"

"Yeah. I've also watched you beat the crap out of an alien and stuff its head down another one's throat."

Bruce winced. "Yeah."

"I'm going to need an in-depth interview with you," Iron Man told her. "You're the only human in recorded history who's lived with the Black Widow for more than a few weeks, and you're miraculously unmaimed."

"I'm a little maimed," Cat told him. "I spent thirty minutes in a locked trunk before I got here. It was really uncomfortable."

Natasha stepped in. "Okay, that's enough sharing. Stark, if you don't mind saving the chit chat until after we've stopped an illegal arms dealer."

"Right, priorities."

Cat was given explicit instructions on what to expect, what to do(look inside the fridge for food and drinks), what not to do(using the toaster for anything else than its intended purpose), and what definitely not to do(looking for or playing with the many hidden weapons inside the cabin), before being ushered into one of the rooms. She watched from a window as they all piled inside of the jet and took off.

Once they were gone, the night was settling. Cat found herself to be exhausted from the day's events. She collapsed on the first surface she laid eyes on and was out like a light.

A faint rustling woke her up. She was a light sleeper. She sprang to her feet, but someone pushed her back down.

Three guns were pointed at her, all belonging to three men with matching menacing grins on their faces.

"Not again," Cat groaned, before one of them clobbered her over the head with a gun. She felt her knees give way before her thoughts faded into darkness.

idk how i feel about this chapter tbh...fgyuhijokpljhvj but i have delayed an update for too long (kind of) and you guys deserve better.

Here are some of the things reviewers requested: more natasha being a badass, more nat-cat interactions in general(specifically domestic ones), trevor coming back, parent teacher conference, more missions together, nat picking cat up from school, nat bailing cat from jail, cat meeting tony, more about cat's training, cat being blackmailed by an enemy organization and spying on the avengers for them, and more.

YOU THE REVIEWER have the ability to make these things happen. Majority rules (as long as it's not something that wouldn't really make sense or is OOC). Tell me and I will (try to) write what you want. What am I but a slave to the people. Anyway, bye.