19323/These are not the grocery bags you're looking for...

These are not the grocery bags you're looking for...
Date of Scene:	19 October 2024
Location:	Brooklyn - the streets near Clint's loft
Synopsis:	Ambushed! Bro and Lady Bro handled the Track Suit Mafia goons - and then a bit of a delayed introduction.
Cast of Characters:	Clint Barton, Thea Queen

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Clint Barton has posed:
It's only a couple of blocks from where Thea'd 'saved' Clint from the threat of 'flash mob' Avenger autograph ambushing that they need to go to get to his place, and boozy drink or not ( he either doesn't know, or has forgotten about Thea's sobriety/addictions ), he's clearly intent enough on at least prolonging the conversation.

Distraction is definitely a thing - be it the fact that he's nearly home, that he's been away so long and is .. nearly home, that Thea herself is a distraction for any number of reasons, or - well - he's just tired.

Distraction gives the four thugs from the infamous Track Suit Mafia the break they need to ambush the Avenger and his companion, two big men in stepping up behind them from an alley that they pass as two more make their way down the steps from row houses on either side of the street.

"Bro! You are not supposed to _be_ here. " Says the only one with any real hair to speak of that moves in front of Clint, holding out one meaty hand that's attached to a tree trunk sized arm covered in Russian mob/jail tats.

"You were gone. Been gone. Block is ours now, Bro."

Thea Queen has posed:
Pumpkin spice latte. That's the payment Thea had insisted upon. It would be perfect for the chill in the air, to further fuel the bounce in her step, and just make for a perfect all-around addition to the positives that are already present. After all, 'saving' an Avenger is well within bragging rights when it comes between her and Ollie. And Hawkeye to boot!

Arrow to arrow.

Casual chat, noncommittal stuff like 'weather' and 'work is work' sort of topics fill the minutes, and while Thea doesn't necessarily have 'spidey sense', there is something 'off' as they move down the block, and out of the more highly decorated world and into the more residential area. (Putting it kindly, that is.)

At first, Thea wants to step up her pace as she catches two figures behind them, which then is forestalled by the pair that appear before them, effectively blocking either a forward or backwards get-away. She exhales in a soft sigh and casts a sideglance to her companion briefly.

Oddly enough? She doesn't //seem// afraid. Instead, there's a calm to the young woman that might seem a touch out of place?

Clint Barton has posed:
Dammit. He should have known that these .. clowns were going to do something like this. Clint shakes his head just slightly, one can almost hear him berating himself in his inner monologue with just that one simple gesture.

Week's worth of groceries occupying one arm, Thea on his other side and close enough that she'll get in the way of any big movements there. Goons behind. Goons in front... and if they've taken the 'block', probably more where those came from.

"Look..first off, I'm _not_ your 'Bro', gotta get that through your thick skulls. I'm not leavin', I _like_ my place... and we'd an agreement that wasn't voided by..."

As he talks he discretely, mostly using Thea's body as cover, fishes a few coins out of his pocket and readies them...

"Bro! Stop yur mouth! You and .. and .. Lady Bro here are gonna go. "

A pause.. "That's unless Lady Bro want's a _real_ guy. She can have all that she wants."

The 'talkative' goon says as he _leers_ at Thea then in the way that all thugs do - thinking that they're being all macho and suave.

Clint sighs, glances down at his groceries with an exaggerated motion, "I can see we need to talk... do you mind if I put these down, then? I don't wanna have to go _back_ to the store later...again. No need for a Ground Hog Day scenario here.."

Clint glances over at Thea as he starts to squat to put the bags down, eyes flickering first behind them to see just where those two goons are and and then at Thea, trying to decide just how much he's going to have to work to keep her calm amidst all of this...

Apparently not at all.

She's pretty calm for .. well, 'home' for her hasn't been all that stable. Maybe Ollie's put her through some crisis training...

Thea Queen has posed:
Things could be worse. They could //always// be worse. She could be out and about, walking with someone who has absolutely zero sense of tactical awareness and understanding. Someone who has had no physical, self-defense training. (Or someone who flat out hates pumpkin spice latte.)

Thea's manner and mien is far from fearful. If anything can be gained by the touch of Clint's hand on her back is a subtle tensing. It's not out of fear, but rather, the preparation for doing something. What that something is, however, is unknown.

"Lady Bro?" Thea cants her head, offering up one of the cuter, if not a little vapid of smiles she's got in her arsenal. "I am all about //real// men," she begins again. She's moving, but not forward. Just enough for them to pay a little more attention to her rather than to what the archer beside her is potentially doing. Her hand reaches to push some hair from her face and tuck it behind an ear.

"I think the ones behind me are cuter, though," Thea considers, her head turning to check those in the back. It's a sign, perhaps, a hint to Clint that she's more than happy to take the ones behind. "Is anyone named 'Sergei' here? I love that name."

Clint Barton has posed:
The 4 thugs seem to be more than a bit confused here, Clint being .. somewhat reasonable, 'Lady Bro' Thea apparently ready to switch sides - and for the pair _behind_ ? The 'leader' of the group seems dumbstruck a moment, but then's like, "No! Boss say's we're done talkin'..."

YURRK.

Clint interrupts ..whatever inanity the goon was going to start with by flipping a pair of coins from the thumb of his left hand and his only real 'super power' comes into play - there's really not anyone better at marksmanship than he is - bow or not. One coin flies right to the back of the talkative goon's throat having passed right past his teeth on the way into his mouth. The other coin lands square between the other goon in front's eyes - painful, surprising, but not at all debilitating.

His grocery bags are let to drop the few inches left to the sidewalk, one turning over to let a few cans of both black and red beans roll out.

"Thea.." Clint says as he turns, trying to gather what's going on with the woman at his side...and hoping that she's at the very least not going to freak out, and at best will just continue to distract those behind them for a few seconds more.

He really doesn't want to escalate this - it's sure as heck not an 'Avenger level' threat - or worth pulling out a few of the items he keeps with him all the time now, but he's not going to let any harm come to Thea or any of the bystanders that are already moving over to the other side of the street, some stopping to begin to lift phones and take pics and video.

Thea Queen has posed:
Clint has his opening gambit, and as the coins are let loose, Thea is taking a couple of steps such that she's coming in between the goons stationed behind them. She's still not exuding fear, but rather, an eerie calm.

A grab is made for the lithe form and figure by one of the larger goons, the reach obviously being made to 'use her as leverage'. He wants to bring her in nice and close, held by arm and elbow to keep her still. That isn't to be, however, as Thea takes a quick stomp on the inside of the man's shoe, grabs an arm and shifts her balance. It's an obvious judo move as she uses the Russian's weight against him, and sends him flying. Up and into the air, then, landing heavily upon his surprised partner, still standing just on the other side. One lands on the other with an //ooof//, and as they scramble to their feet once again, Thea's on the move back to Clint's side, though facing her own immediate threat.

It's an obvious move meant to either give some breathing room or to make a quick escape. Either of those options are good for the younger Queen as turns around to look at Clint again, brows rising in silent inquiry. She does follow it up with, "I'm good," and while she might be breathing a little heavier, she's by no means winded.

Clint Barton has posed:
The 'leader' of the goon squad is holding his throat with both hands, red in a mixture of anger, fear and pure lack of air as he tries to cough up the coin he's choking on. His partner recovers from his surprise in the time Clint takes to check on Thea, rubbing at that spot between his eyes with one hand as he yells out something that's really not worth repeating in Russian, charging towards Clint with his other arm swinging in a wild haymaker towards Clint's face.

For his part, Clint looks at the pair of thugs wrestling on the ground behind them, then to Thea, and then just chuckles, "Clearly." He replies to the lithe young Queen before he turns his attention to the incoming attack.

Ducking under the swing, Clint steps past the Russian, hip checking him on the way by, following with a backwards stabbing elbow to the kidney which promptly ellicit's an URK from the crazed mobster and a collapse onto his knees.

Not stopping there, moving with a clarity of purpose and speed that's been well trained into him by no lest august a personage than Captain America himself, Clint decides to help the choking brute in front of him by putting all of his body weight behind the punch he lands just below the other man's solar plexus - driving all the air out of him and stunning his diaphragm with rather merciless efficiency.

Catching up to one of the cans of beans that's rolling down the sidewalk, he scoops it up and turns to survey the current situation, tossing the can up and down again in one hand while he holds the other out to invite Thea to join him.

Thea Queen has posed:
The pair are trying to get their footing, each one helping the other up. They look completely and totally ready to go at Thea, this time to defend their honors. Or assuage their egos. Same thing, really.

Thea takes a couple of running steps towards one of the rolling cans of beans, rescuing the one that Clint doesn't get. It's a single, fluid motion for the Queen, as she straightens, twists, and heaves the can at the head of the Russian that is a little forward of his partner. It's a good shot; she doesn't have to be a Hawkeye to get the larger sight picture. Dead center landing, right between the eyes, and the Russian goes down, tripping up the other even as he tries to pass and get at the pair.

"Still good," she offers up as a status report. "I might owe you a can of beans, though. I'm sorry." There's a gleam in those blue eyes; not one that some people carry, that 'having fun in combat' sort. This is a necessary evil; she doesn't enjoy it, but Thea does have the capacity and desire to end it once it begins.

Stepping up to his side, the younger Queen look at the scene, checking those threats. "I think they won't try again?" Not her mob, not her city!

Clint Barton has posed:
As Thea so adroitly deals with her admirers with a play he'd been contemplating himself, Clint flashes her a smile that's got a mixture of a few things in it, but one might pick out the two prevailing notes: approval and that he's impressed.

Taking the few steps back to his groceries, Clint picks them up, dropping the can he had into one of the bags, and turns back to once more set a hand at the small of Thea's back as he starts back in the direction they were headed before this little interruption.

"You can make it up to me with dinner, mebbe pizza tonight.. and no, at least not today. Clearly I am going to have to have a more direct talk with their boss, again."

The Track Suit Mafia ... maybe he _should_ just move into the Mansion, at least this sort of silliness would stop.

But then there's all the residents in his building, the block...

Clint's jaw tenses, his eyes hard, "Might be I should've just stayed away."

Thea Queen has posed:
That's right. Thea never did tell Clint what her last name is. That'll be later, she's sure.

Once the goons are dealt with, and that can, now dented, is retrieved, she carries it rather than dropping it back into his bag. It's the least she can do!

Allowing herself to be directed once more, the fashion plate that is Thea Queen looks all the world as if all of that hadn't just happened behind them. Her step is back to the light tread, and she's not mired in contemplation about who/what/where/when/why and how of the previous interaction. "Maybe pizza. I'll have to call my brother and let him know I'll be late coming out of the City, though." She has responsibilities, after all.

As the pair make their way back, Thea does feel the shift in her companion; he's gone deep where she's remaining shallow. It's easy for her, however. She doesn't live here. Not her circus, not her monkeys. For certain, she'd feel the same if they were in Starling and those familiar to //her// did or say something. Ollie, for certain.

"Hey," her voice peeks in, looking for that path into his thoughts. "Pretty sure you shouldn't leave because //they// want you to." She takes a couple of larger steps forward, only to walk backwards in front of Clint, her attention on those fiery blue eyes. "I don't know what's going on, and that's okay. But if they're anything like Starling's mobs? They'll keep pushing. They don't stop. At all." As if he doesn't know that?

Clint Barton has posed:
"Brother... Starling ...city? " Clint says, and then _looks_ at the very attractive young woman in front of him once more and the dots visibly connect in his head, clear enough they're seen in his eyes.

"Well.. that explains a few things." Clint says after a moment, allows a slight smile to tug at the corners of his mouth again, and he shakes his head slightly. Still, he nods, turning at the steps that lead into his building , though pausing at the door to the multi-story walkup to wait for Thea to catch up to him.

Keys are pulled out, door and groceries juggled, and they're making their way into a building that .. is not in _quite_ as bad a shape inside as it looks to be on the outside, or the surrounding neighborhood, but only just.

As he starts up the stairs he glances at Thea, "You're right. They won't.. but then there's the question of where does the escalation stop? I mean...I can't just go land a Q-jet on top of their building and make this an Avengers thing."

Thea Queen has posed:
Thea grins before she nods. "Thea Queen," her surname finally spoken even as they take the stairs up, having turned around again after positing her particular opinion on the matter. "Ollie is my brother." She pauses before adding, "My long suffering big brother." She put him through so much, puts him through, even. But at the end of the day, she loves him like no other human being. HER big brother.

The stairs up to Clint's apartment doesn't even wind her; after all, the regal staircase in the mansion is done on a daily basis, so this is second nature to her.

Clint's concerns, however, are met with another grin. "A Quin jet would be pretty cool, not gonna lie. If I had access to one?" She shakes her head, "Don't even care that I'm not a pilot. It would be //completely// worth it." Her brows rise, and her head cants, "But why not make it an Avengers thing? Or, at least bring a friend or two along as a side venture? I know you can get someone to help."

Clint Barton has posed:
As they get to Clint's floor he leads the way down the hall, "Thea Queen, a random run in here in Brooklyn..that's gotta be one for the books. Well, hell, none of this is gonna meet the standards you're used to.. but.."

And he opens the door in to his loft apartment, which isn't much - by anyone's standards, much less someone that comes from the money that Thea does.

"If you're good, and very lucky, you _might_ know someone that can get you a ride on a Q-jet." Clint says with a flash of an almost boyish, but definitely rogue-ish, grin. He lets her preceed him into the apartment... and no her identity doesn't keep him from enjoying the view as she does, though he turns away after a moment to close the door behind him and then takes the groceries into the little kitchen.

"It's a matter of scale. This stuff.. it's barely above Cop level. The Avengers ... they're governmental..hell, planetary stuff..and _always_ busy. Can you imagine Cap coming in and having to deal with those .. fuzballs?"

Thea Queen has posed:
"It's fine," Thea waves a hand to dismiss any thoughts, "I've," here she pauses and starts again, "I've been a lot of places," she says in words to defend Clint's home. As the door is opened for her, the younger Queen steps across the threshold, and the first //real// scent she gets is the aroma of cedar. Wood shafting for arrows. Bows 'adorn' the place, arrows, fletchings, arrow tips.. it's a playground for traditional archers. She doesn't even notice, or make comment upon if she did, the 'checking out' she receives from the handsome archer.

Turning around in the middle of the living room, there is a hint of keen anticipation that plays upon her face. "That would be... amazing. It would be a dream." She follows his path to the kitchen, her slow pace is meant to take everything in, and consider his response.

"I'd almost say it's federal level. FBI. If they're mob?" Thea barks a laugh and cants her head, her expression shifts to the sly, her tones tinging upon teasing, "Don't you know a Russian? Pretty sure you do."

Her path brings her to the counter by the kitchen, and leaning on it, she's looking comfortable and casual, "And from everything I've seen and heard about Captain America, he totally would come in and help people out."

Clint Barton has posed:
The place is kept neat, though not obsessively so, and yes .. the prevailing odor and decor is cedar, a few types of lubricating oils for metal and wood alike, and hints of beeswax to round it out. There's even a few target dummy's setup on the main floor for either close quarters work or perhaps more direct workouts.

Clint fishes a few things that are perishable out of the bags, including a dozen eggs that somehow didn't manage to crack, and gets them in the fridge before he turns and offers Thea a bottle of lemon hinted selzter. He doesn't comment on his faux-paus earlier with the beer instead of the latte - and he _also_ doesn't look apologetic about the fact that he's opening a beer for himself - he just doesn't make a big deal out of it.

He's quite a moment, watching her in this personal space of his, then the way she settles in easily enough and .. he's clearly pleased by it.

"Of course Steve would. That's part of the problem, I suppose, and it's kinda like bringing a nuke to a knife fight." He says with a bit of a laugh.

Thea Queen has posed:
"An archer's paradise," Thea declares, as she casts her gaze around the room again. She can pick up the little bits and bobs here and there. After awhile, she forgets if she should know how to shoot a bow, or fight or.. keeping it all straight and who knows what is a drain.

"Thank you," and it's honest gratitude with which she accepts the lemon seltzer. It doesn't look as if she minds the beer being opened; she's not 'one of those' types in recovery. What's for her is for her. Not anyone else. She raises the glass in toast gesture and takes a sip. Then, with drink in hand, she cradles it in both, her fingers playing with container.

"And very comfortable. I wouldn't want to get pushed out." She says it so offhandedly that it sounds more like a statement of fact rather than a challenge. Her lean is casual, easy, and there'd a light to her eyes, while she's quick to smile. She absolutely carries herself with an air of confidence, though if that's just Queen money talking or ability, who knows?

"Well, a nuke would absolutely make sure it doesn't happen again." Thea raises a hand, "I know, and I totally get it. I just hate feeling like, 'Didn't we just do this yesterday? Or no, these guys were last week..'" Shaking her head, she wanders towards the couch to lean there. "It's like having to push a ball up the mountain, only to have it roll down again.. and then push it back up." There's a pause before her eyes narrow playfully, and her tone takes an amused, dry, threatening tone, "Don't you dare tell Ollie I paid a little attention in school. He'll only expect more out of me."

Clint Barton has posed:
"Well, no, the Paradise is the Mansion with all of the toys that Tony has to work with and JARVIS to help out." Clint says with a grin, moving to follow her towards the couch, stepping up beside her - and as he takes a sip of his beer he once more returns a hand to the small of her back..or maybe just a touch lower.. without showing any hesitation in the movement despite knowing who she is now ( at least partly ).

"But..you know archery then? And no.. I don't really want to leave, I just .. don't want to make my problems Avenger problems. " He quirks a smile, "Feels a bit like ... not being able to handle my own shit as it were."

Another sip from his beer, "Maybe I just need to approach things a bit differently... and avoid a Sisyphus-ian doom..."

A pause.. "Hah..I can't believe I remembered his name."

Thea Queen has posed:
Thea shifts a little; slow down! Though she doesn't look either insulted or angry. It's a quiet, subtle move, and while she doesn't pull completely away, there is that movement. "I don't doubt that," she muses, and takes another sip of her drink. "I heard there were problems there earlier. It made the news, but thankfully no one was hurt?" There is that measure of concern, both for him, and for any other that might have been there. "Yet one more thing I'd love to see. But, I am sounding way too much like a tourist."

The brunette nods her head quickly, "A little bit. I hung out with the Asgardians. Sif, Brunnhilde, and a couple others. They taught me how to fight. It was all during that spaceport attack mess." She sits on the edge of the couch, her expression still open, still smiling, though it is a little wry, "Nowhere near as good as others, and certainly not you."

Brows rise and she can't keep a laugh from escaping, "You did. And maybe?"

Clint Barton has posed:
He knows well enough how to read those signals, and doesn't appear to take them as more than 'break tapping'. Clint smiles as she moves around to settle on the couch and shakes his head slightly, musing as he starts to circle around as well, though he heads towards the bow that's hung over the mantle, setting his beer down to lift it up off it's hook.

He looks down at it, then takes a moment to string it ( never store a bow strung! ) with a fluid motion that's clearly more than simple habit for him.

"This.. well it'd be neat to say this was my first bow, but that one was broken that one long ago. It's the same as it was though.. draw weight and all. "

A pause, a shake of his head, this time clearly at himself. "Asgardians, she says... a moment after wanting to see the labs at the Avengers Mansion and claiming 'tourist'. That _does_ explain those moves earlier, nicely done.. I was worried I'd have to deal with all four of those futz heads myself. "

A breath, a glance down at the bow in his hands, "It can't be _Hawkeye_ that deals with them. But Clint isn't making things work too well either."

Thea Queen has posed:
Thea watches his path, enjoying the sight in her own right. There's a thing about arms and backs. Well toned, well defined, strong arms. Shoulders. If he can look, absolutely she can too.

As he strings the bow, she rises from her spot and leans forward to set her drink on the small table. She moves easily, a conservation of energy, and stands beside him, looking from him to the bow and back. "May I?" She nod/gestures towards the bow. She's smart enough to know //not// to pull back and release an empty bow, but she is interested in the //feel// of it.

As what she's said trickles down into Clint's understanding, Thea grins. "I didn't want you to think that you had to worry about me, and everyone around and the goons." Courtesy! "Though I'm horrible with improvised weapons. I'm much better with swords." THAT training, she's not telling. Just let him assume that it was from the Asgardians. "Carrying them, however, is pretty much out. I'd feel stupid, and like I had a giant target on my back."

Taking a step back, just for a spot to rest and lean, Thea considers that last bit, Clint's outside voice musing, and follows up. "So, be someone else? Wear a mask. A hood. Something?"

Clint Barton has posed:
With a nod he hands her the bow, it's a simple recurve, probably not yew from the look of it - and it's draw weight can't be more than seventy five pounds or so, but it's clearly been well taken care of and well used over a number of years - even if this wasn't his first bow, he's had it a long while.

Clint watches her with it, not in a hurry to get it back and clearly interested to see how she handles it - what her stance is like as she draws it and .. is pleased that she doesn't dry fire it.

"Swords? Sounds like I should let you chase me around a mat some, and show me what you've got on a range as well...and why not the one at the Mansion...seems fair enough to me."

He nods then, just slightly, a bit more sober as he reaches for his beer - to down the last bit of it. "Maybe. Getting caught still brings blowback to the Avengers though. So.. getting caught can't happen."