Chapter Text
"I'm just saying, I think it's disgusting," Clint said. "I'm going to find that guy and shoot him in the crotch with an arrowhead full of itching powder."
"Clint, it's nothing. Men always see me as a sexual object. This is a professional asset for me," Natasha said with a flip of her auburn hair. "Besides, if I cared to teach him a lesson, I'd track him down myself and pin him to the floor with knives. Just let it go. I can handle it." She flicked away the holographic image of herself in her catsuit, bent over a sewer grate to rescue a trapped child. A cartoon cock and balls had been drawn over the photo, pointed at her ass.
"Oh yeah? What about all the other women he's done this to?" Clint said. He brought up another image, this one of Sue Storm in her underwear on a crowded sidewalk, clearly from before she gained complete control over her invisibility. This time there was a slobbering tongue over her panties and two eyeballs tucked into her bra.
"Do you think Sue can handle this?" Clint said. "Do you think she should have to?"
"I don't think she'll have to, not after Johnny sees that picture of his sister. Somebody's house or car is about to get a flame job," Natasha mused. She emailed the image to the Human Torch.
"The guy who shot these is not the only one, either; he started a craze," Clint said. He pulled up a bunch more images of different female superheroes, all in suggestive poses, most with vulgar additions scribbled on.
Natasha trailed a long scarlet fingernail over Suk me, She-Hulk! and said, "Someone clearly wants to die in the most painful and embarrassing way imaginable."
"The SHIELD promotional posters are not helping," Clint said. Those had come out after the Battle of New York in an effort to boost public recognition and appreciation for the heroes. "This says nothing about your skill in weapons, interrogation, or stopping an alien invasion. It just waves your buns in the air." Natasha's poster featured her leaning over a railing to shoot at someone below.
She shrugged. "They wanted to keep my face away from the camera."
"But look what kind of crud it's inspiring," Clint protested. He fanned out another batch of images, drawn like posters or magazine covers, featuring various superheroes and ordinary women in ridiculous arrangements and outfits. "These poses, honestly -- I have personally known contortionists who could not do these things. It makes me want to hunt down the men responsible and put them in the same position."
"It's hardly fair to drag someone into the media when they didn't sign up for that," Natasha said.
"Tell that to these dicks," Clint said. "Some of those pictures are of gals who just happened to catch the wrong person's eye."
"Men are dicks, yes. Just ignore them. It's not like you can do anything to stop this. They don't seem to be breaking any laws," Natasha said.
Clint closed his hands to crush the offensive images out of existence. "We'll see about that," he muttered.