Legacy

Clint remembered what it was like, to learn to use his bow. Trickshot had started teaching him at first as a joke. An idle way to pass the time as they traveled the country, until Clint had shown promise in it. Then Carson had wanted him to learn seriously, to make an act out of him. Trickshot had taken Clint on with both hands, Clint had practiced till his fingers bled. For every shot he missed, Trickshot had cracked the whip, literally. Clint would go to bed at night with a bleeding back until the day he no longer missed. He could make any shot, see the angles and the odds.

Its perhaps for this reason that he took any shot that he counted as a miss as a massive failure of his character. That it made him weak. Just another guy with a bow. He had failed today, a shot meant for Steve had almost made its mark. Clint had fired once and missed, just as rapidly he had fired another and stopped it, but he couldnt get it out of his head. He didnt think anyone had noticed, but he did. Thats why he was in the gym now running on the tredmill when he should have been in medical with the rest of the team. Why he had turned off his comms. He couldnt hit himself with a whip and he didnt want to. But the need to somehow punish his body was so deeply ingrained in him that he just kept running. Even when his lungs were past burning. Even as his legs felt like jello.

He made a misstep and went flying backwards into the wall. Trickshots laughter ringing in his ears as he lay there. He slowly got to his feet and took a deep breath, sweat pouring off his face. He stumbled his way through Shield, heading for the range. His night wasnt over yet. He wanted to crawl into bed with a bottle for company but he wouldnt. No he would spend his time making sure that it never happened again. He would make that shot over and over until he got it perfect.....until he was perfect again.