so_hawkward: ([hawk] never without my quiver)
Clint had been able to ignore the radio broadcasts, sort of. Sure, he was bothered by Handsome Jack--his messages were suspicious and one of the boyfriend lessons Clint was learning was to be offended on Kitty's behalf by the unapproved radio use--but when Clint searched the SHIELD database for anything on the Hyperion Corporation and came up with nothing, he fell back on his old habit of waiting and observing.

That had lasted right until he'd taken Lucky for a walk through the preserve. Clint had been planning on sneaking by the dig site when he came across some really odd looking dog creatures instead. It hadn't taken long to do a 180 back to his place to grab his bow and quiver and lock Lucky inside, and then Clint was right back where he'd been. Unfortunately, the dog creatures weren't there anymore, and there was something much, much bigger instead.

One failed attempt at shooting a bullymong in the face later, Clint found himself outside the Perk, of all places, gripping his bow and steadying himself. He didn't know what that blue wormhole was, but it was trippy as hell and not at all what he'd expected the aftereffect of getting squished in the chest by a giant paw to be like.

The pleasant voice coming from the antenna box caught him by surprise. "Hyperion recommends channeling your post-death frustration into pre-death vengeful anger!"

"Oh yeah, I'm already there," Clint said back, rifling through his quiver. He didn't know what that thing was, but he had some very experimental arrows to try now. Natasha kept telling him to try them somewhere sensible, but that wouldn't be nearly as much fun.

[Open! I will be commuting for a bit, FYI. Also, blame comics, and Twitter.]


so_hawkward: (Default)
Clint Barton

August 2017

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