Clint threw his hands up in front of his face in vain, whimpering as the fist meant for his face hit his bruised wrist instead.

"Don't you dare hide from me, you worthless piece of shit!" his father yelled, wrenching the ten year old's arms down. "You deserve every bit of this!"

Dabbing the foundation gently over the fresh bruise on his cheek, Clint fought back tears. Outside the trainees' trailer, he could hear Swordsman talking nonchalantly to his new mentor, Trick Shot.

"Don't worry, Buck, I got him whipped into shape for you."

Would his father always haunt him?