Chapter 6: Playing a New Game

June 15

Howlett Manor

For the most part, Natasha and Clint were content to do their own thing. Technically, they were residents of the mansion along with everyone else, but the truth of it was that they spent most of their time not in the mansion itself but out on the grounds. It was summer, the weather was perfect, and there was plenty of space for a good spar.

And when they weren't sparring, they were trying to relax.

Neither of them was too comfortable with continuing to work with SHIELD now that the war was over. Coulson was wonderful, and he was sure to make a great director… but this was the same SHIELD that had missed it when Essex took kids for himself, that had let Bobbi stay in Hydra way too long, that hadn't even been able to keep Victor Creed from Fury's private hideaway.

They talked about it often, just trying to figure out what they would do with themselves. They didn't even have to do any lead up — one of them would just pick up where they'd left off, and they would go from there.

Natasha had just pinned Clint, kneeling with one knee on either side of him as she smirked down at him, leaning forward until she was close enough that she could have kissed him if she decided to.

"You see the newspaper Mrs. O'Malley put out with the coffee this morning?" Clint asked, not moving out of the pin as he grinned up at her.

"I always read it once Logan's done with it," Natasha said. "It's nice to have the creature comforts."

"Yeah, that's the first sign of peacetime, right there. Newspapers."

She rolled her eyes at him. Neither of them had moved, and he was still pinned that way in the grass, Clint's arms stuck underneath her knees, his own body weight used against him. "What was the part that stuck out to you — the horse race coverage of Hill and the two former victors with their names in the ring... or the third-rate no-name with a cult following?"

"Well, I was gonna say that this Jameson guy seems to have it out for Hill, but I like your description too."

"I've read the files," Natasha said softly. "He's not mad at Hill. He's mad at SHIELD. Bobbi Morse. Hydra."

"Yeah." Clint watched Natasha's face for a moment. "He's not a big fan of victors, either."

"I don't think he likes anyone," Natasha said with a smirk. "Did you have a point, Hawkeye?"

He laughed at that. "I'm just saying ... I know Fury said something about giving Hill some support. I'm just trying to gauge… you know, it's not like we're the most popular Tahiti kids. Careers. Killers. Would almost be better to speak out for Osborn and slow him down. I mean, couple of trained killers like the guy? How good can he be?"

"I think you're underestimating how much people like you — and Kate," Natasha pointed out. "You were never a Career."

"So do we do something?"

"Do what, Clint?" She shook her head. "I thought you were tired of playing SHIELD's complicated games."

Clint sighed and leaned up to steal a kiss. "Well, not everyone can live in paradise with a gorgeous girl. Some people still live in Marvel, and I don't want to see someone like … like Pete or Miles … or Bobbi... or someone end up stuck under another dictator."

"Stryker and Osborn combined don't have the staying power that Maria Hill does. Or even Erik Lensherr, for that matter," Natasha assured him.

"That sounds suspiciously like optimism, Nat."

"Well, you're the one painting storm clouds, Clint."

"Early morning pre-coffee thoughts," he replied, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Then is that what you want to do? Go back to Marvel?"

"No." He shook his head. "No, let's stick around here. At least until this whole thing with Creed is resolved." He smirked. "Politics suck, but the guy with the pointy claws is a bigger danger. At least in the immediate future."

"That and your favorite Hawkeye is going to be living here."

"Yeah, that too." He grinned at her. "I dunno ... maybe we could work something out with Mac. Help out with security, policing… there's gotta be an honest job for a coupla crooks like us, right?"

"I'm sure," she replied before she lowered herself the rest of the way to kiss him in the grass, and the ongoing conversation came to yet another stop.

June 19

District Eight

Jessica Drew nodded to the security guards on her way through to see her old mentor and fellow victor. Norman Osborn was doing actually pretty well with the election — mostly because the rest of the country hadn't gotten a chance to know him, and he was convincing with the classy businessman approach. You know. If you didn't know he was a psychopath.

But she also wasn't going to turn down an invitation when he called her up and asked for her "advice." It was a fairly transparent ploy, really. None of the victors or Tahiti kids had wanted to step back into the public eye except for Norman and Erik — and she knew he'd love for her to make a public appearance with him. He'd said as much in several messages.

But sure, if he wanted to ask her the same question in person, she would give him the same answer in person. She wanted to get a good read on him anyway, try and gauge what kind of power trip he thought he was on.

But she certainly didn't trust him, so she'd told Coulson to monitor her as best he could. There was some serious security throughout most of Eight — part of Norman's schtick was that he had been able to protect "his" district during the war with his technological prowess… and to some extent, that was actually true. But it also meant that SHIELD didn't have any eyes on what Osborn was up to — yet another reason she'd agreed to meet with him.

She glanced around the green-decorated offices on her way up to the suite. Osborn had started living in his Oscorp building — where the security was strongest — and while she'd heard that rumor, she was a little surprised that it was so true that there was a fully equipped dining room that could have been called a banquet hall. A table that could seat a hundred, and there were only two place settings down at the far end.

Jess' hand went to her pocket almost unconsciously. She had contacted Bobbi... she knew her friend really didn't want to talk about poisons and antidotes anymore, but the truth was, Bobbi knew what to look for. And Jess had come prepared with what Bobbi promised her would cover most of the basics, though if there was anything custom-made, Bobbi made no such promises.

She wasn't sure if that was an issue, but Jess liked to be prepared.

"You know," she said as she walked the length of the table, "I know it looks impressive, but it just ends up feeling empty after a while when you have this much space and no people."

"I'm not sure I agree, Miss Drew," Osborn replied. "The space is comforting, I think."

She shook her head as she took a seat. "Don't get me wrong; I like solitude as much as the next person. I think it's the chairs." She shook her head and then turned his way. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to talk to you about the upcoming election," he said, gesturing for her to have a seat. "I'm sure it won't come as a shock when I say I'd like to have your backing. I'm sure I could find a place for you in the administration if you're in the market for something to do."

"I'm really flattered, but I thought I was clear: I don't want to get involved," Jess replied. "If you want advice, if you want to chat, that's fine. But I'm honestly enjoying being part of the district. Just living."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed," he said, though some of the friendly facade had already slipped away. "But … certainly, I can respect that. And yet I asked you here for advice... I'd be a fool to say no to your strategizing."

Jess nodded the slightest bit as she ran a finger along the rim of her cup as if she was considering things. "You know Maria and I got along during the war, Norman. She's as close to a friend as I think it's possible for her to be."

"That really isn't much of an endorsement either, Jessica," he said with a little chuckle.

"Well, nobody's perfect," she said, smirking as she took a long drink — after her cursory check hadn't shown anything lining the cup. "So what is it you'd like my advice on?"

"Perhaps 'advice' is a bit too strong of a word," Norman conceded. "I guess … after spending all those years trying to watch out for you, and then not knowing for sure what had happened to you for the duration of the coup has left me a little concerned. Particularly with all those nasty rumors flying around about brainwashing and what not. Are you … yourself, Miss Drew?"

"More so than I've ever been since my Games," Jessica told him without dropping his gaze.

"And would you tell me otherwise? Are you free to do that now?"

"Norman," Jessica said, her eyes slightly narrowed as she leaned forward, "believe me when I tell you that nobody has been telling me what to do for a long, long time now."

"Good, good," he said, relaxing his shoulders as he sat back. "After everything that was being said, you really can't blame me for being concerned."

"It was never my problem," she told him. "And everyone who had to face it has been fully restored to their own minds. Don't worry; no one's out there with a broken mind."

"Can you tell me how Peter is?" he asked. "I always did like that boy."

"He's doing just fine," Jessica said. "As far as I understand, he's just seen three good friends married off, and he's settling back into a normal life."

"Oh?" Norman said. "Who?"

"Actually, Peter was close with Steve Rogers," Jessica said. "You remember that wedding in Five, don't you? And of course, it was obvious Kate Bishop and Kurt Wagner were going to get married the second a ceasefire happened."

"I suppose that's true," he replied, nodding thoughtfully, though he was quiet for a good long time. "Good for them."

"The war's over, Norman. There aren't any brainwashing cells or Hydra plots to uncover anymore — at least, nothing that the local police can't handle themselves."

"I certainly hope you're right," he agreed before he put on a much more believable smile. "Then how about, for the sake of my sanity, you join me for dinner? I promise I won't bring up anything sensitive."

"You don't have to walk on eggshells," Jess said as she pulled a napkin into her lap with a prim smile. "You and I worked together long enough — you know if I don't like it, I won't answer you."

"True, but I don't want you to feel like I asked you here simply to pick your brain," he replied. "Two way street, Jessica. Please, feel free to ask whatever you like as well. I'll do my best to indulge you."

Jessica nodded thoughtfully as the food and wine arrived, waiting until the servers had left before she tipped her head to the side. "I admit I'm curious why you're even in this race. I thought business and technology were your passion."

"You reach a point where success can only take you so far, and then it becomes time to try to give back," he said, as thoroughly rehearsed as any line she'd ever heard.

"Norman." She watched him over the top of her glass. "I'm not other people."

"Fine," he said, shaking his head. "I'm bored. Stark is running the field with the tech industry, and I just don't have the staff I need for biotech. Yet."

"And you think the presidency will give you time to pursue that kind of thing?" she asked, one eyebrow raised as she shook her head before she took a long drink and paused. "This is the kind of thing we used to have in the Capitol," she said, frowning, already feeling a buzz.

"I think the presidency would make my company look more attractive to aspiring scientists," he replied. "And all of my best star pupils who I thought had died are all hiding under SHIELD's umbrella."

Jess frowned as the buzz increased in her ears. She had checked the glass, taken Bobbi's antidote ... one glass shouldn't be affecting her this much. "They're really not hiding. They're living," she argued thickly as she tried to blink her way to something a little less… woozy.

"Yes, but they don't have a means for me to even offer them a position," Norman complained.

"I'm sure Coulson would deliver a letter of application…"

"Coulson has already blacklisted me," Norman replied. "But you know where they are, don't you, Miss Drew?"

Jess's blinks were getting longer as she struggled to see Norman clearly. "I really … really don't."

"You are a terrible liar under the influence, my dear," he said with a little laugh as she finally succumbed to whatever had been in that drink and passed out.

June 21

The Capitol

"Thank you for meeting with me here instead of at SHIELD," Maria Hill said as she and Coulson sat down at what Coulson was sure was a kitchen table she never ever used. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can't have people thinking I'm still trying to run SHIELD."

"It's not ridiculous," Coulson agreed. "It's strategic, and it's a sound point. It's best to separate as much as you can. Unfortunately, I do need your input." He allowed himself to look concerned as he pushed a file toward her. "Two days ago, Jessica Drew agreed to meet with Norman Osborn, and she hasn't been heard from since. We've followed her trail, checked with her closest friends and neighbors in Eight — which, admittedly isn't much — and we even went so far as contacting Osborn, but it seems she's simply fallen off the map."

"And I'm sure he just told you she'd gone home safe and sound or something."

"On the contrary, he claims she never showed up," Coulson said. "In spite of the fact that we have traffic cameras showing her entering the building." He shook his head. "All things considered, if it was anyone else — not running for the presidency against you — we'd have already pulled his building apart. But I know you couldn't afford to give him the chance to spin it as a SHIELD defamation situation."

"Ask him for the footage from his surveillance. He can't refuse you and still claim to be looking out for security interests," Hill said.

"We did," he said. "It shows nothing."

"Well someone's cameras are lying, and it's not the traffic cams," Hill said with a glare. She leaned forward. "You can't ask anyone in SHIELD to dig deeper."

"No, we really can't," he said. "Not without some clearance. Norman's security measures are too good; otherwise, I would have let Skye loose on his system already."

Hill leaned back, shaking her head. "What about non-SHIELD personnel? We have civilian allies; her fellow victors I'm sure would jump to her rescue if they knew, and not all of them stayed on with you."

"Honestly, most of them aren't officially with SHIELD," Coulson admitted. "But Morse isn't up to duty right now, and without sending in a strike team .."

"I know." Hill sighed. "Try speaking with Commissioner Stacy," she suggested. "Let him run it as a missing person's case locally. No SHIELD. But it wouldn't hurt to let some of the local Tahiti kids know either."

"Will do," Coulson agreed. "I'll do just that, and then I'll put the bug in Skye's ear if that doesn't pan out for us."

June 25

Howlett Estate

This year, there was a three-fold shared birthday party. Wade, Cassie, and Scott all had birthdays within ten days of each other, and this time, they were celebrating it on Cassie's again, since it fell in the middle.

Mrs. O'Malley had taken the opportunity to make sure that they each had a cake — there was red icing for Wade, and sweet little Cassie got a cute yellow cake with chocolate icing. And Scott got a chocolate cake with vanilla icing.

Wade was pretty much singing to himself about his "20th on the 20th" birthday, one arm wrapped tightly around Cassie's shoulders as she carefully picked out the seventeen candles on her cake.

The Hudsons had of course all come down for the party — plus a few of Cassie's friends from Twelve, just to spice things up a little.

"What, you two aren't engaged yet?" America asked as she and GoGo arrived bearing presents — skates that GoGo had designed. America stuck her finger in Wade's chest and narrowed her eyes. "You better not be getting complacent with less supervision. Cassie's the sweetest and best of all of us."

Wade raised both hands and grinned. "Of course I know, silly Chavez! Sweet, sweet Cassielang's the best of everybody ever. Duh."

"And don't you forget it," America said, though she was smirking.

"Just gotta wait another year," he whispered theatrically.

America leaned forward and matched his tone. "Not for the ring you don't, lover boy."

He looked taken off-guard for a moment but started to nod. "You know, you have a point, Miss America. Maybe I should ask our stabby host where one would procure such an item."

America grinned and patted Wade on the shoulder. "Ask GoGo."

"Shut up," Wade said in a scandalized tone. "When did she — did you— the whaaaaat the heck?"

America just started to laugh. "Ask her. She's the one who pulled it off, and she's actually good at telling the story," she said.

He nodded, saluted, then did an overly dramatic 'heave-ho' before he launched himself GoGo's way. "Oh, Ms. Tomago! Please tell me a romantic story!"

GoGo almost laughed as she shot a look America's way over Wade's head. "Oh, so that's how she's playing it, huh?" she said, then motioned Wade to join her with Cassie.

"Really? You'll let me in on all the juicy girl talk?" Wade said, resting his chin in both palms as he sat down close. "I'm all aflutter."

GoGo smirked as she leaned in. "Yeah, like you'd let us alone until you knew the story."

"That certainly is a factor," he agreed, nodding.

GoGo shook her head and had to laugh as Cassie scooched closer to Wade with wide eyes and an expectant look. "Right, so ... District Twelve is great and all for a few weeks, but it gets kind of boring after a while," she said. "No offense."

"No, I get it," Cassie said, nodding with that same wide-eyed expression.

"But I'm not gonna go anywhere without my girl, so I told her as much," GoGo said. "Move to the Capitol with me — let the boys in Twelve do their thing, and we can do ours, right?"

"I'm with ya so far," he agreed, nodding.

"So I wrote to Honey, told her what I was thinking, and she sent me designs for a ring. Between the two of us, we had this all covered — and I took her out to the treeline and asked her to move in with me." She smirked. "Told her the wedding was optional, but the ring would look good on her."

"And?" Cassie prompted.

"And check her ring finger, Cassie. We're moving at the end of next month. Coulson's already set her up with an interview with Capitol police. The way she talks, she'll have them all marching to her fife by year's end."

Cassie giggled delightedly. "So that's when you're moving. Do you have a date yet?"

"Small steps," GoGo laughed.

"Fair enough, fair enough," Wade said before he rushed forward and scooped her up in a hug. "Congratulations!"

GoGo laughed as she returned the hug as he spun her until he set her down. "But hey, enough about that. There are birthdays to celebrate!"

"And cake to eat," Cassie put in, already half pulling Wade back toward said cake.

Across the dining room, Clara finally took a seat next to Scott and very gingerly pushed a relatively heavy box his way. "Happy birthday, handsome."

He leaned over to kiss her before he gently tore open the box of knives and gouges — carving tools — and broke into an honest grin before he kissed her harder this time. "Thank you," he said, squeezing her hand. "I can't wait to use them."

"Well, to tide you over, I had Smitty and some of the guys find a few nice pieces of birdseye maple and basswood to play with. If you're in a rush."

He grinned even wider. "Well, seeing as I can't finish the other project I was working on just yet, I'll have to come up with something new."

"Let me know if you need anything else," she said as she curled into his side and gave him a kiss on the jaw.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in. "How about we just have some of Mrs. O'Malley's cake ... unless you want to take it back to our room?"

"I think they have enough cake here for those that will eat it," she replied with a smirk.

"Right." He grinned at her and kissed her gently. "Then I'll take a couple slices back."