Whumptober Day 22

They Made Me Do It

Prompts: losing control/threats/caning)

I picked different prompts since I couldn't come up with anything relating to demons & curses, but I figured I could come up with something for these, so I did.

We get to see BAMF Clint - my favorite!

"About time you woke up, Hawkeye." Clint heard the voice through the fog filling his head. "Are you ready to tell us what we want to know?"

"Probably not, not unless you want to know about archery. I can talk all day about that. I can tell you how to figure trajectories. Course, I'll need to know the data."

"Enough! Robert, he's all yours." The man talking stepped away, and a male with the body of a weightlifter appeared in his place.

"Good to meet you, Robert." Clint flexed his fingers, then tried to move his wrists. 'No such luck,' Clint thought. Now that he was more alert, he realized his arms were fastened to the arms of a metal chair with mag cuffs. 'Who do they think I am? The Winter Soldier?' Clint knew struggling would be useless. Once he was fully awake, he found his legs were attached to the chair legs using the same type of cuffs.

"You won't think so when I'm done with you." Clint turned his attention back to Robert. As soon as he lifted his head, Robert whacked him across the chest with, what the hell, a cane? Before he could recover from the first strike, Robert lifted the cane and slammed it down onto Clint's bare thighs, and from there, the man didn't let up, completely losing control and not stopping until Clint had passed out from the pain, blood dripping onto the concrete floor beneath him.

When Clint came to later, he struggled to lift his head. His lips were cracked, and his throat hurt so much, he couldn't talk if he tried. So helpless, unable to defend himself. Unfortunately, the people responsible didn't care. Someone grabbed a handful of hair, forcing him to look up. "Well, look at the great and mighty Hawkeye now. Such a shame this is how it's going to end for you, that this is how you're going to be remembered." Clint blinked as a camera flash appeared in front of him. The man holding his head chuckled. "This will go on a wall of shame somewhere."

Clint was not going to let these idiots get the better of him. He wasn't half of the greatest pairing in SHIELD history for nothing. While the guy was mouthing off, Clint, despite his aching head and wracked body, was using his greatest resource and strength, his brain, to figure out how to get out of here. As bad as Clint had been beaten, he used that fact to his advantage, knowing his body would be further injured but also knowing he'd be alive for it to heal. Clint used the blood covering him as a lubricant, pulling his limbs free from the mag cuffs simultaneously. He raised his arms, wrapped them around the man holding his head, and slammed the guy's head on the back of the chair. With an "oomph," the man fell to the ground. Clint looked up in time to see Robert running toward him with the cane. Clint knelt in a defensive pose, and as the cane came down, Clint grabbed it with his hands and shoved it into Robert's throat. Robert made a gurgling sound, then collapsed to the ground. Clint, whose wounds had reopened when he dragged them out of the cuffs, shuffled over to the big sliding door, picked up his bow, and quiver. He took out two arrows, loaded them, then took aim, releasing them. When he left the building, each torturer had an arrow through their body.

When Clint made it outside, he found his crushed comm on the ground but remembered he had a new arrow from Tony that he hadn't had a chance to use yet. He pulled an arrow out, squeezing the top of it, then leaned against the building, sliding down to the pavement. "Gotta stay awake, not good to fall asleep." He fought it, coming to whenever his head would droop and fall off his chest, but his body was worn out from the beatings, and he slid to the side.

Just before he hit the pavement, Clint barely felt a soft hand on his cheek. "Clint? You with me?"

"'Kayla?"

"I'm here. Focus on me, Clint." Clint blinked, trying to follow her direction. "Bucky's going to get you to the jet, and then we'll go home. Sound good?" Clint nodded. Mikayla leaned in and tenderly kissed his forehead. "I'm glad you're back. We'll send Tony a fruit basket to thank him for the GPS arrow." Mikayla stepped back, giving Bucky room to lift Clint and carry him to the plane.

"Aw, bridal carry, no."