Chapter 2 Copycats

Unsurprisingly, Felicity had dealt with copycat vigilantes on many occasions before. She couldn't understand why she was struggling so badly to identity the man from Starling City, who was basically the bad guy version of her deceased best friend. It was frustrating. She had already spent quite a few days trying to dig up information to trace him. With S.H.I.E.L.D.'s technology, it should have been easier than it actually was. Felicity needed to find this guy and settle with him.

"He wasn't from Starling City," she said out loud to herself while in thought.

"What?" Clint Barton looked up curiously from his bench-press workout. With a sudden realization that Felicity was at the gym, she snapped back to reality. She was supposed to spot him, but he could have done fine on his own.

"The copycat isn't from Starling City." Felicity pulled out her tablet and thought to herself curiously. "He knows the city too well. He jumps up the streets and buildings like he's lived his whole life. I still can't even find my way to the closest coffee shop by foot."

"So all you've discovered is that this archer lives in New York. We're no closer to finding him." Unamused, Clint returned to his work out.

Felicity growled. For the last few days, she was in a stump. She wanted to find out who the copycat was to clear Oliver's alias' name, and to be rid of Clint Barton for good. Her boring, uncaring teammates were better company than his criticism and snarky attitude. "You would like me a lot better if you weren't so distrusting," she muttered under her breath. "Or if you weren't born with grumpy syndrome."

"Tonight, we are heading up to our location up in Brooklyn. You will need to work on some kind of defense while we're at that facility," Clint told her, ignoring her comment. Sweating, he managed to set his weights down on his own. "You have a gun; carry it with you on all times. Tonight, carry a spare and a knife with you as well." The base where they were going to be that night was a little more high risk for exposure. Felicity was going to be working and monitoring Clint from a van in a warehouse. They had a plan etched up to monitor a couple of buildings in that area.

"The shooting range is full, I can't go practice," Felicity remarked, not fully looking Clint in the eye.

"You haven't met any of your physical quota." Clint was taking a look at her training log. "I don't want to carry deadweight back with me tonight."

A glare burned into the back of Clint's head. Nonchalantly, she got up onto her feet and walked over to the side of the gym. Raged from stress and frustration, Felicity decided to follow his advice.

"With other methods, I can still practice my aim. I am not completely useless."

There was a target set out with some bows and a few quivers. Felicity picked up a good bow with her left arm and stared at it.

"Why would anyone in New York use arrows for any purpose other than recreation?" Felicity took her time trying to get the aim perfect. "A gun is faster, easier to use, and would make them less traceable." She released her arrow, and it hit between the centre and the edge of the board. Felicity almost jumped with delight. Oliver would have been proud.

"You've done archery before?"

"Once or twice," Felicity replied, staring at her bow. Memories popped up vividly in her mind, and a mixture of emotions appeared on her face. "It was a big thing in our city. You can't avoid it if you live there."

"You know, I can tell when someone is hiding something. Your face gives it all away." Clint walked up to her and looked her straight in the eyes with an unwavering expression.

"Everyone has a story to tell," Felicity mumbled. "My back story led me here, yours did too." She shifted her feet uncomfortably.

"Those are whiplash scars." It was a statement, not a question. The man in his late thirties or early forties held up Felicity's arm. True enough, there were some scars that still remained from a few archery practices with Oliver and Diggle. "You also loaded the arrow correctly and fired with good posture. Perhaps the Hood from your city taught you a thing or two?"

"Perhaps, but I don't see why he would have wasted time with someone like me," Felicity grumbled to herself, pulling her arm away. He was suspicious of her. Everyone was. He didn't trust her, and none of her teammates seemed to trust her either. Felicity was used to everybody thinking she was innocent with nothing to hide. She could empathize with Oliver a lot more now. "But I would probably shoot myself by accident first before I manage to ever kill an opponent."

"Do you know what they say about you? You're a threat, a spy, or some kind of untrustworthy foe. People say Nick Fury only kept you here to keep a closer eye on you, to try to find your true motives." Clint was watching her every facial expression. If only Felicity noticed his foreshadow.

"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." Felicity kept her cool and bit her lip. "I am not a threat," she said softly. "If only you all could see that."

"She hasn't made any contact with the archer during this entire case. I believe she is innocent."

"The real question is, has the archer made any attempt to contact Felicity?" Agent Natasha Romanoff crossed her arms. "Although she may not have plans with him, that doesn't mean she isn't connected to him."

"She's young though," Clint argued, throwing his hands on the table. "How can she make so many enemies or allies with dangerous men? We are wrong for putting her under so much scrutiny. Fury would not have accepted her into S.H.I.E.L.D if she posed a threat."

"Your mission is to find the archer," Natasha said to him calmly. "My mission is to find out what I can about Miss Smoak. These were orders from Fury himself. She may not be an immediate threat, certainly not physically, but she knows important information."

"Whoa whoa, wait a second here. Are you two working on the same mission?" Bruce Banner had burst into the room with a box filled with papers. "It's been a while since any of us had done that."

"More or less," Natasha replied grimly. "Heard of the archer?"

"The amateur archer, actually," Clint interrupted. "He's not that great."

"Sounds like a friendly fellow. Killed two people again a few days ago near my apartment. It almost brought the other guy out," Bruce commented nonchalantly. He was organizing through his papers with a small occasional whistle.

"What are you even doing here, Bruce?"

"The story that I am going with is apparently we need more help in the city."

"That's not new news."

"I suspect Fury is trying to bring us all together again. There's something bigger emerging in the midst of this chaos," Bruce replied, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

Clint zipped up his jacket and fixed his weapons. "How big would it have to be to call upon the Avengers again so soon? Fury is perfect at keeping secrets from us."

"Fury has too much in his corner. There's a new junior director that the big guys sent in. The name's Richard Graves. He's kind of an asshole," Natasha commented. "A dumb one. He sent two teams in to the harbour last week to stop a drug bust. An underestimation of how many people and guns nearly lost all of those men."

"He's not in charge of anyone in our area, so we're okay, I guess," Bruce said. "Well, I'll be spending the rest of the night getting settled in. I will see you two after your mission."

"Missions," Clint corrected, giving Natasha another look from the corner of his eye. Natasha was going to be at the Brooklyn base too, but she wouldn't be visible. He checked to make sure he had all his equipment, and then radioed the driver. Clint then went to retrieve Felicity for the departure.