Chapter Text
Steven really thought this team-up was going well -- they got the bad guys plastered to a wall with a series of sticky-net arrows, then neatly knocked out with a knockout-gas arrow, because Hawkeye Junior has one for every bloody occasion, apparently -- until the ex-Widow tackles him.
She's good. Steven was switching off channeling Marc's and Jake's skills during the fight, and he's pretty seamless at working with both of them by now -- but even if one of them was fronting, Yelena probably would've just needed three or four moves to get them pinned to the ground.
As-is, she does it in two. "Point an arrow over here, Kate Bishop."
Baby Hawkeye gapes in shock -- apparently she wasn't expecting this either -- but it doesn't stop her from aiming an arrow right for Steven's eye. (The coordination between these two is damn near seamless. Reminds Steven of watching Barnes with Wilson...or even Marc with Layla.) "What gives, Yelena? I thought we liked him!"
"We do like him," says the blonde. "This is helping. Did you not see how his fighting form kept changing? There were at least two, maybe three, completely different."
Marc could kick himself. We must've let the suit switch by accident. I knew we should've practiced this more...
It didn't switch, protests Jake. I was watchin' for that specifically, and it didn't.
"Uh," says Hawkette. "Didn't catch that at all, no. But so what? Aren't you trained in, like, eight different fighting styles?"
"Seventeen. But those are techniques, Kate Bishop! I always have the same strength, the same reaction times, the same capabilities. This one changes. The last time I saw a person switch this completely, she was a brainwashed child assassin who was programmed to fully embody the fighting styles of others, with no will of her own."
"Oi!" protests Steven. He's cooperating and not struggling, at least for now, but he can't just let that one slide. "I'm not a brainwashed child anything."
"Yes, yes, that is exactly what a brainwashed child assassin would say." To Kate, Yelena adds. "Get the Red Dust."
"Um...do you want me to get the Red Dust, or keep the arrow on him?"
"Seriously? Seriously, Kate Bishop? Are you telling me you have not constructed a Red Dust arrow yet?"
"It's on my to-do list!"
We are not letting Halcóncita drug us! snaps Jake inside their head, and shoves his way to the front.
All their effort to keep the suit consistent goes down the drain as Steven's suit turns into Jake's armor. Kate lets out a yelp of surprise, and they're damn lucky she's a professional or they would've gotten that arrow to the face.
If Yelena is startled too, it's not enough to be thrown off when Jake starts trying to twist out of her grip. "A normal arrow would be excellent right now, Kate Bishop!"
We can't fight our way out of this one, mate! says Steven, trying to pull Jake back. Think about everything we know about the Widow program, we're no match for that -- besides, they're not doing this to hurt us, they're worried about us --
"No, it wouldn't! We already know he can heal from that!"
We could tell them, thinks Steven.
An outburst of protest from all sides of his head.
Think about the Widow program, repeats Steven. Kidnaps orphan girls, trains them to be killers, makes them practice fighting on each other as soon as they're old enough to walk? No way Yelena Belova hasn't seen someone with a dissociative disorder before.
Hawkeye Junior stores the arrow she had notched, whips out a handful of others. "Uh, got a knockout gas arrow...taser arrow...USB arrow...?"
Just stick with the "moon is very mysterious" story, pleads Marc. Jake, Steven's gotta do the talking, let him have the body. Steven, please...
Steven agrees -- he still thinks the reveal might work out, but he wants it to be a choice, not something he bullied the others into. Jake has it harder -- they can all feel how much he hates this, practically vibrating with how desperate he is to punch his way out of this -- but he lets Steven swap in.
...which means a blade he hadn't noticed pressed against the plates of Jake's armor slides right through the fabric of Steven's tailored suit jacket.
"Ow!" he yelps. "Please, I am trying to stay calm, but it'll be so much easier if you don't stab me, yeah?"
Yelena grumbles something in what might be Russian, but pulls out the knife. "The fancy dinner suit means 'calm'?"
"Usually." Steven takes a couple of deep breaths as the wound heals. "Look, don't try to make too much sense of it, all right? I can swap between different suits, summon different weapons, channel a few different fighting styles. There's not always a specific reason for which one happens. Moon's just really bloody mysterious like that."
The ex-Widow hums. "And how did you come to be like this?"
"Yelena!" hisses Kate. (She did pick a new arrow at some point, though, and she's not so miffed at Yelena that she won't point this one at Steven too.) "You can't just ask someone their origin story!"
"If there are more unregistered programs for super-soldier experiments, the Avengers will need to know, yes?"
"Well, if you must know," snaps Steven, "I died, and made a deal with a god to come back to life."
A wave of panic from Marc. I didn't say you could tell them about that!
Surprisingly, it's Jake who holds him back. You told Steven to talk, ay? So let him talk.
"I, uh, don't suppose three days later you rose again from the dead?" says Kate.
"It was more like...six hours? Maybe eight. On this plane, anyway."
Because Steven isn't telling them Marc's origin story, dammit, he's telling his.
"How long my soul spent wandering the interconnected planes of post-corporeal existence -- hard to say. All I know is, I walked through the halls of memories of my life, and the lives of those who were ordained as Avatars of Khonshu before me...and I was nearly lost in the sands of the dead, when the soul of an earlier Moon Knight returned from the Field of Reeds to guide me out...and I was led back into my body, and offered a deal. So I was charged with protecting the travelers of the night; and I was restored with the power of this healing armor; and I was invested with the Gift of the Chorus, made up of the memories of Khonshu's previous Fists, so that I might go into battle using their skills and prowess as my own."
It's very promising that neither woman has a witty comment to make about that.
"Please don't ask me to show you the fighting styles of a hundred different Fists, though?" adds Steven, as an afterthought. "I've only really got the hang of a couple of them."
Kid Hawkeye doesn't lower the arrow, but she does sigh. "Okay, Yelena, is that good enough? Do you believe him? I mean, I didn't want to shoot the guy either way, so it would be super cool if you believed him."
Kid Widow's grip isn't relaxing. "He could still be making it up," she says, almost sulkily. "How would I know? I am not one of Clint Barton's magical mind-reading friends."
"Do you want me to call Clint Barton and have him get one of his magical mind-reading friends? Because it's, like, three in the morning where he is, but I could do it."
"If you want to reach someone in a closer time zone," pipes up Steven, "you could contact King Valkyrie. Or the Black Panther. Both of them can confirm the whole moon-god-Avatar part."
Kate snorts. "Yeah, that would still involve calling Clint. I do not have access to the International Avengers Royalty Hotline yet."
After a long moment, Yelena admits, "I do not need you to wake Clint Barton up, Kate Bishop."
"Oh, thank god," bursts out Kate, lowering her bow. "Uh -- not any god in particular, especially if any of them happen to be listening -- just, you know, small-g god. The general concept of god...ness."
"He's not hanging about," says Steven quickly. "You're in the clear."