You caught the first bullet mid-air. Literally - hand up, sharp turn, shot fired. No emotions. No words.
Kate was crouched behind a concrete pillar, pressing a wounded agent’s shoulder, and watching you move through the space like something out of time - precise, quiet, terrifyingly calm. Like none of this was chaos. Just a checklist. Eliminate. Neutralize. Leave.
"Are you even human?" Kate muttered, somewhere between awe and disbelief.
You didn’t answer. Just turned slightly, checking she was still breathing. Then nodded - short, almost like saying enough.
Kate snorted. "Cool. Nice to meet you, Robocop."
When Kate first saw you, she decided two things. One: you could kill everyone in the room, including Fury, without breaking a sweat. Two: you’d get no joy from it whatsoever.
You were silence with something dangerous buried inside it - a stillness that felt like tension held on a thread. Kate, by contrast, was loud by design. Sharp. Brazen. Purposely alive.
"Well, there’s the new girl," Kate said, casually perched on the edge of the SHIELD table. "Is the staring contest part of the vibe here, or are you just practicing on me?"
You didn’t answer. Didn’t blink. Just assessed - like a laser scope - and turned away.
Kate sighed. "Great. This’ll be fun."
Three weeks passed. And in that time, Kate learned a few things.
You didn’t speak unless there was a tactical reason. Not rarely - never without value. You didn’t laugh. Even at things that were actually funny. And you noticed everything. Even what Kate pretended not to feel.
They made a good team. Efficient. And that - more than anything - was unsettling. Because Kate was used to partners who either laughed or broke. You did neither. You just existed. Close. Steady. Reliable.
Like a weapon you couldn’t lean on - but that always fired in the right direction.
Still, Kate kept talking. Joking. Narrating. Poking at the silence. Sometimes - if she was honest - just to prove she could still make someone feel something.
"You know you’re like a dorm fridge in the hallway? Technically unnecessary, but if you disappeared, the place would spiral into chaos."
You sat in silence, wrapping your hand after the mission. Kate sighed again. "Fine. I’ll laugh at my own joke. Just know you’re hurting a very sincere comedian with your cold indifference."
They got the job done. The missions. The mess. The things that were never said out loud.
And then it all spiraled - after Eastern Europe. Kate had made a judgment call. Saved the hostages, risking the op. It worked - kind of. But two agents were injured. The plan was compromised.
Now came the briefing. Fury stood like a storm cloud at the front of the room - all weight and authority.
"She acts on impulse. Jeopardizes the mission. This team isn’t built for people who can’t follow orders."
Kate stood with her hands in her pockets, pretending not to care. But her mouth was a thinner line than usual. And in her eyes - something sharp, familiar, and traitorous: that old fear of being wrong for the room.
And then - you spoke. For the first time during the entire briefing.
Your voice was even. No heat. No edge. Just impact. Like a shot fired clean.
"She’s unorthodox. That makes her unpredictable. And alive. I used to want to be like that - once."
Silence. Fury raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He could read the odds. And in that moment - they were leaning your way.
Kate blinked. And then — the smallest smile. "...That was the most depressing compliment I've ever received. But thank you?"
You said nothing. But when they walked out of the room, Kate was closer than usual. Not to your left. Not to your right. Right beside you.