Hello again. Here is an one-shot on the thoughts of Clint and his start into S.H.I.E.L.D. I realise that is has been done a few times but this is my little take on it. Hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm just borrowing Hawkeye for a little while. Hopefully, he is still in one piece when I finish with him.
Reflections.
They say there is nothing more invigorating then being somewhere high. And he found nothing more pleasurable than being up in the rafters. Watching and waiting for that one person to come through the door. He felt free when he was high above the ground. Able to watch, wait and strike when the time called. He was truly his namesake: The Hawkeye.
Even when running from his past, he had always found a hiding place that was higher. He thrived on the challenge of escaping the people that were targeting him for elimination. Not even he was aware that he had attracted the attention of Supreme Headquarters International Espionage Law-enforcement Division, or S.H.I.E.L.D, for short. Until he landed himself in a backwater jail cell in a town that he had long forgotten.
On the brink of getting executed within a couple of days. Stood what would become like a father figure to him. Agent Phil Coulson watched the bright loner before stepping into the light. His voice a gentle calming factor in what was a highly stressful situation. But Clint had enough of being on the run and looking over his shoulder all the time. He had nothing to lose and plenty to give. So he was made to disappear off the face of the planet.
But he wasn't completely wiped from existence. It seems after Agent Coulson got his ear chewed off for bringing him instead of eliminating him. Everything settled down into a routine. He didn't have to fight for his food anymore. And he had a place to lay his head for the night. All in all, he would be quite contented with the new direction that his life had taken. Passing his medical was easy even if he did get told he would have to gain weight. Apparently they did not like seeing his ribs. And he would be the first to admit that he had lost a little weight with being on the move like he had been. Considering all things, he was still a rather fit specimen.
Until he was once again at a healthy weight range, all the other physical testing had to be suspended. But they did test him on the weapons range. He had an eye for long range assaults but close quarters was something else. He did not have any formal military training at the time but he could duke it out with the best of them. He was an out and out street brawler. He relied upon his survival instinct, which had gotten him out of more scraps than he would care to think about. So as he piled the weight back on, he also had to use the gym to condition his body more physically.
But that never prepared him for the six long weeks of gruelling intensive basic training and the months of torture training as well. But one thing he had a knack of was learning to speak different languages. He was taken apart and rebuilt again. He was given a purpose in his life. So finally after all the effort of training that was put in, he was finally mission worthy. Phil clapped him on the back in a moment of pride as he handed Clint his brand new recurved bow and quiver set. A small genuine smile pulled at his mouth before a more serious expression masked his true feelings.
He nodded his thanks before taking it down to the shooting range to familiarise himself with the mechanics of it. Nothing worst than using an untried weapon. He enjoyed the feel of the tension from the drawing of the string as he notched an arrow and watched it fly to land in the centre of the bullseye of the target. He was happy with his new toy as his fingers gently stroked the indentations of the bow. He could already feel the hunger for the hunt beginning to stir in his veins. He just hoped that Fury would come soon.
Slinging it over his shoulder as he turned towards the door of the incoming footsteps. He would know that tread anywhere. His posture was straight as there was a sound of coughing before Clint looked at Fury. A folder was held in his hand. Must be some thing important if he was tracked down instead of being summoned. Inclining his head as he reached for the folder. He knew what needed to be done. His life had started a new chapter. And now, he worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.
So until next time, have a good one! ;D