S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier. Noon.

"So. Seventeen years old and you think you're ready for top secret S.H.I.E.L.D. missions?" Director Coulson sat, staring at James from across his desk.

"…Yeah, pretty much."

Many people were intimidated by Coulson ever since he became director. Not James. Phil was there when James was born. Not THERE there, but you know…there. He's overseen all of James' S.H.I.E.L.D. training. Phil's been there through his whole life. Plus James was Captain America's son, so Phil had a slight bias towards him. Phil didn't realize it, but James (and pretty much everyone else) noticed. James had exploited it quite a few times, too, convincing Phil to show him experimental weaponry, make some of the Avengers take him on ride alongs, help him prank Clint…things like that.

"Fine. But you'll start off with some level one missions," the director decided.

"Aww, come on, Phil. You know I'm better than that. I'm Captain America's son. And I've had seven years of S.H.I.E.L.D. training under the best director ever," said James.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, James."

"Pleeeaaase? UNCLE Phil?" Part of James' training was on how to manipulate someone into giving him what he wants. Natasha taught him that.

"…Alright. You'll start at level four. That's it. I'll see if we have anything for you. For now, go bother Hawkeye or something," Director Coulson said.

"Yes, sir," James saluted the Director, then stood up and strode out of his office.

And so he did find Hawkeye. He wanted to get some more archery practice in. He was considering taking a bow in the field with him on his solo career.

"You keep forgetting to slow your breathing," said the archer, "Try again. This time, be calm."

James set another arrow to the bow, pulled the string back to his ear, and aimed at the dummy. He made sure to slow his breathing.

"Now instead of just letting go of the bowstring, relax your hand and let it release itself. Sounds the same, but it makes a difference. Trust me," said Barton.

James did as he was told. He would always mess with Clint, but he looked up to the Avenger. He didn't rely on anything but himself in a fight. Even without a bow. He didn't need super strength or a magic hammer or a suit of armor (not to say that the other Avengers were nothing without those things). Bruce Banner became Hulk when gamma radiation turned him into a giant green gorilla. Tony Stark became Iron Man when he put on the suit. Even James' dad, Steve Rogers, became Captain America when injected with the Super Soldier Serum. But Clint Barton just WAS Hawkeye.

James relaxed his hand and the arrow flew, hitting the dummy in the shoulder. So he was no Hawkeye, but he was still pretty good.

"See that? Makes all the difference. Stick with it, kid, you'll get better," said the bowman.

James continued practicing for a few hours; first with immobile targets, then moving ones. The shooting range had a wind simulator, but he would save that for another day. He wasn't at that level yet.

A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent came in with a file and handed it to James.

"What's that?" Clint asked.

"My first official mission," he answered, pulling the papers out of the file.

"Coulson gave you mission?" Clint was surprised, "Did you call him Uncle Phil again?"

James gave Clint a sly smile.

"Man, the things you get away with… I wish Captain America was MY dad," the archer joked.

"Who doesn't?" James laughed, "Well, I better get going."

"Wait. Are you going in that?" Barton asked.

James was wearing jeans and a hoodie.

"Nope. Outfitting department should be done with my new gear by now."

James and Clint made their way down to Outfitting and grabbed the package with James' name on it. He opened it up and changed into his new suit. It was simple, but James liked it. Blue pants and a red short-sleeve shirt with a white star on the chest. It also came with an arm guard and a waste-hanging quiver (complete with a set of trick arrows) so that he would still be able to latch his shield to his back if he was using his bow. Once he had all his equipment on, he laced up his red, high-top Converse, completing the look.

"Nice," said Hawkeye, "You got a name?"

"Well… How about Valor?"