Yorick of thy tribe Characters: The mysterious Mockingbird (haha)! And open to all! Setting: Morning; San Diego, California. Content: Is Nick coming? Nick Fury. Summary: We are gathered here today to bid farewell to Barbara Morse, kickass superspy.
There were a enough weird days in Bobbi's life to make a whole new season of the Twilight Zone, and Bobbi would prefer all of them in a solid marathon to what turned out to be the most boring possible event in a girl's life: attending her own funeral. At least with swamp monsters and saber tooth tigers she got to shoot at things and touch well muscles pecs, here it was just kind of hot and dreary out and she couldn't even talk to anyone. Not anyone human, anyway. The pigeon that sat with her in the tree across from the cemetery didn't have much to say back, but blinked and cocked its head and listened pretty well for a bird. "It's not that I expected to enjoy myself," Bobbi had told it, and it blinked, "but I thought it might be kind of nice to see everyone together." The pigeon had cocked its head, and so did Bobbi to rest hers on her shoulder and sigh while the bird cooed. It wasn't as nice as she was hoping. All of that black linen and awkward, distant glances between the family to try to convey 'sorry I haven't called for two years, I really would invite you over for the long weekend but I'll probably forget, it's not you it's me, sorry for your loss, did you know her better than I did?' all at once. At least she saved them one little pang of guilt when they realized who they neglected to send her a Christmas card again, then vindication when she never sent one, either. Oh yeah, she's gone. So young.
Her mom, in particular, made Bobbi's heart ache. She stood a little away from most of the group, Ben's arm around her in a way that was clearly unfamiliar to him but a comfort to her, and never once turned her head toward the men and women in uniform that were so kind to travel all this way for Bobbi's sake. And she wasn't even dead! They were going to be so pissed when they found out. Bobbi was going to have to put a lot aside to buy enough booze to make up for it. But that was easy; how was she even supposed to tell her mom? 'Sorry, it seemed like fun at the time. Didn't you have fun? Seeing uncle Tom, that rascal, you never get to see him!'
But she wasn't Bobbi anymore, not completely. Maybe that was why the bird sitting with her was so attentive. She was Mockingbird, costumed vigilante, done up in spandex like a regular Daily Bugle menace and sitting in a tree watching people cry. At least it couldn't get any worse than this. After today, it was off to work, life as Mockingbird with all of Bobbi's problems, like telling her mom what a horrible prank this all was, shelved for the time being. She was really starting to see the appeal of the job now; a whole alter-ego to regress into when the stupid one you were born with got too damn annoying. That life wasn't even funny anymore, it was sad people in sweaty socks listening to a guy drone on about heaven. Mockingbird's life was going to be great. Bobbi Morse was dead.