Violet-Sky let her fingers relax, her amethyst eyes intense. The arrow shot from her bow and embedded itself deep into her target. Her trainer—a boy less than a year older than her named Tristan—smiled. The center of the bull's-eye was pierced.

"Who's your favorite Avenger?" Tristan asked as she loaded another arrow.

"Hawkeye or Black Widow," she answered, taking careful aim.

"Why?"

"Because they're only human. They don't have a suit of armor or a hammer made by the Norse gods or big green muscles. They took on the Battle of New York with a bow and arrow, a gun, and skill alone," Violet-Sky said. She let the arrow fly.

"Do you even know their real names?"

"No. But I know they're SHIELD agents like us."

Commander Hall—their Supervising Officer—marched in, his brow furrowed.

"Cadet Barton," he barked. Violet-Sky snapped to attention, dropping her bow. Tristan rolled his eyes. He hated it when Commander Hall interrupted their training. If Violet-Sky ever wanted to be a full-fledged agent of SHIELD, he'd have to stop walking into her sessions. The girl's purple irises flared in shared irritation. She hated interruptions too.

"Yes sir!" she said. Tristan—following her diligent example—straightened himself.

"I need to speak with you. Immediately. My office. Change into civilian clothing," Commander Hall ordered.

"Yes sir!" she said loudly. Commander Hall marched away. Violet-Sky gave Tristan a quick hug and ran into the locker room. Maybe he was going to promote her! Oh, her parents would be so proud! Finally, she was making some headway in her life! Something fantastic was finally going to happen. She unzipped the front of her training clothes and slipped a Styx rock band T-shirt over her head. She yanked on some sweats and Converse sneakers.

"Your father's brother's son is dead," Director Fury told one of his best agents. "He leaves behind a seventeen-year-old daughter. Her whole family is dead. She doesn't know this yet. She's one of our cadets. Her Supervising Officer is telling her now."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Her whole family is dead. You are her next-of-kin," Directory Fury said. "She's a minor. We'll take care of her. But you need to legally be her guardian."

Hawkeye raised his eyebrows. "I'm not a care-giver," he told Fury.

"I know. But we don't have a choice here. Go downstairs and meet her," the SHIELD director ordered. Clint rolled his eyes and grudgingly marched away from the one-eyed man.

"No!" Violet-Sky protested. "No! They can't be dead! Mom and Dad promised they'd never leave me!" She fell into her chair, tears streaming down her face.

"They were blown up, I'm sorry," Commander Hall said. "It was a gas leak."

"But… who do I go home to? I've got no other family!" she asked. Her violet eyes were full of sorrow. Commander Hall stood up, circled his desk, and knelt in front of the cadet. He rested his long, pale, freckled hand on her shoulder as she shook with sobs. Her whole world had just turned upside down. She cried in a way she had always been trained not to. But her family was everything. It hurt like crap to lose them.

"We've found your next-of-kin, as it were," Commander Hall told her. "Your second cousin." He raised his hand and beckoned at the doorway. Violet-Sky turned around to see a man in a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers standing just outside the doorway. He entered silently.

He definitely had the Barton-family resemblance Violet-Sky herself lacked. Light brown hair, blue-gray eyes, tan skin. She guessed he was in his mid-thirties, but his eyes held wisdom beyond his years. She noticed he was scarred. Under his T-shirt, muscles rippled. His arms were packed with muscles too. His eyes, wise as they were, were impassive. He was an athlete.

"Clint Barton," he introduced himself, his eyes instantly taking in the fact that her eyes were purple. He extended his hand to her. She took it and shook it, gripping his fingers powerfully. She could feel every single callous that affirmed he was athletic. She noticed he had a very light tan line around a portion of the inside of his forearm. It had a very definitive shape Violet-Sky would recognize anywhere. It was the tan line of an armguard. He wasn't just an athlete. He was an archer.

"Violet-Sky Barton," she replied, dropping his hand.

"Good strong handshake," he complimented.

"Thank you," Violet-Sky said.

"Mr. Barton here is now your legal guardian. You can either stay in the dorms here, or—if it's alright with him—go and live with him," Commander Hall interrupted.

"She just lost her family. She needs to be with me," Clint said. Commander Hall nodded. A look of knowing passed between them—something Violet-Sky easily caught. She wasn't as stupid as people thought she was.