Clint Barton (![]() ![]() @ 2013-12-15 23:43:00 |
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Explosions. It was always explosions. Or something else bad. But lately? Mostly explosions. There was something about them that had just begun to be part of the inexplicable but recently expected nature of Clint Barton's life. There were crises and drama and lots of bad things happened. Or maybe not always as bad as they could have been but not particularly good things. He went out to handle his job and something exploded. This time, it was a small corner of a building that had been trip-wired to dissuade other people from trespassing on private property. Highly illegally produced genetic research private property. Really, Clint had all the best missions. Or the worst? Sometimes he wasn't even sure but when he was staring a highly volatile cocktail of explosives that he'd just inadvertently stepped into while looking for access further into the recently abandoned lab. He'd been too late, obviously. And right now, he was bolting towards the nearest exit without a look back, already speaking into his mic for his partner for this mission where ever she had been. "Di-" Whatever else he might have said was lost in the rush of fire whooshing towards him and shutting off his higher brain function that was not focused into escaping fire and probably death. Or severe third degree burns. This particular exit was more like a window opening that he threw himself out of without looking back. He hit the ground hard, rolling over against asphalt and feeling his palms and knees and other tender skin that was being scraped to hell as the blast shattered the rest of the windows in that particular complex and blowing glass outward onto the empty parking lot. The explosion rattled the building from the foundations up. And he just knew he was going to get blamed for the property damage. His bow skittered across the pavement and out of reach, his grip failing him in the wake of the boom and fire behind him. Someone swore at him from across the way and he jerked up just in time to see a dark shape coming at him. Something hit him in the side and it took him a few dazed seconds to realize that it was a boot. More directly, it was somone wearing a boot that they'd just used to kick him upside the head. Wonderful. And with his ears ringing from the blow, he rolled away from a fairly nasty curb stomp from one of the black-suited security team, trying to yank himself up on his elbows with a grown with tired muscles. "What is my life?" |