Clint Barton Imagine....

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Imagine

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Imagine...you are training with knives like Clint had practiced with you and you see a mentor bulling a newer trainee. You, of course, speak up. The other mentor suggest that you take his place. You being the stubborn person you are, take the kids place. The mentor asks Clint to throw the knives a you and if you move or flinch, you will have to clean up the training room afterwards. You stand against a wooden board, you're eyes locked on Clint, whose grumbling to himself. Clint never misses a target. The other mentor walks up to him and whispers in his ear.
           "Scare her." And then he walks away.
           Clint throws a knife, having it hit near your ankles. You think to yourself, Clint would never hurt me or put me in danger. Then Clint throws a knife to the top of your head. Your hearts pounding, but would he hurt me? Clint can see the slight fear in your eyes, hating how he has to teach you a lesson. He throws another knife that hits the tip of your finger, drawing blood. You immediately look at the small wound, half shocked at Clint.
        "Next time, know your place kid." The other mentor says firmly.
         Clint hurriedly walks over to you, grabbing you by your bicep as he drags you away.
          "I almost beat the shit out of that guy, half pint."

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