#hellishheroics

By no means was she ready to be back in the field in any shape or form. In truth, Rose had never been injured in quite the capacity that she’d found herself in after her incident with the Punisher, even if that was hard to admit even to herself. The extent of her injuries had been...horrific, and that didn’t even begin to touch on the after effects that she was dealing with on other levels. Either way, Rose had more than enough time to sit around and think. Stew might be a little better for it. Strew and research, research, research. Rose had never been a fan of leg work, had always been a fan of shoot and/or stab first and figure out the rest later. But she had to sit around, had to give herself time to heal up despite the undeniable rage firing inside of her. That was how she’d found the name Karen Page. Karen Page, in Sokovia, with the UN. And that was also how Karen Page would find Rose Wilson’s drink poured down the front of her in the Square of the Eagles. “Whoops.” Rose had never been a super convincing actress, and she was sure it fell a little flat. “Totally didn’t see you there.”

Early mornings were never her favorite, never had been. Mary Jane had always been a night owl and it wasn’t even necessarily by choice; she’d been a chronic insomniac since high school, and that had resulted in her being vastly more productive at night than at any other time. That meshed fine when she’d had more control over setting her own schedule but that was not the case lately. No, nowadays she was expected to report at the UN Tower at seven am, which did not mesh well with her late nights. She’d been up later than usual, editing videos and stockpiling a few vlogs and instagram posts so she wouldn’t be playing catch up later in the week. She’d always found it best to use her late nights for productivity, but now she was paying the price. Coffee would help, and she half-heard what sounded like her order and reached up to snag the coffee from the bar in the cafeteria at the base of the tower. One sip informed her that this was not in fact her order. No, no, that was definitely actual milk and not oat milk, and she would be regretting not listening more closely later. A quick glance at the cup and MJ was sighing, seeing Karen scrawled in the barista’s now familiar handwriting, another figure also at the bar that MJ would assumed would be the actual person that this drink belonged to. “...Sorry.” It came with a sigh as MJ. “I’m dead on my feet, just heard half of the call out. Let me buy you a new one.”