Prologue

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~Clint's POV~

"Team Rocket's rockin' talkin' trouble, walkin' trouble, big trouble's gonna follow you. We're gonna capture Pikachu." sang best friends Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton. They were 7, and coming home from their first Comic Convention in Natasha's mom's Toyota Camry and they were exhausted and happy.

That is, until Natasha said, "You know, I really think that we should have gone and tried to steal a Pikachu. It would have been funny!"

"Don't be an idiot." Clint rolled his eyes.

"I'm not an idiot. You're an idiot!"

"You're the idiotest idiot there is!"

Their argument continued, escalating until neither of them were quite sure what they were arguing about anymore. Their fight had escalated into insults, but that was OK, because they were 7, and they had forever, and even if they didn't become friends again tomorrow, they would the next day, or the next, because they were 7 years old, and they had forever stretching out in front of them, a long friendship full of laughter and fights and cosplaying as Jessie and James from Team Rocket.

"Your bow is stupid!" yelled Natasha.

"No, you're stupid!" Clint yelled back. "You're stupid, and I hate your guts, and I never want to see you again!"

Mrs. Romanoff looked back at them. "Kids, stop fighting," she said. "You are tired, and-"

Then it happened. They were driving through an intersection, and a drunk driver in a large pickup truck crashed into them.

Natasha screamed once, and was silent. Her mom never made a sound. The car flipped over, and Clint hit his head several times.

"HELP! HEEEEEELP!" he screamed, before his head cracked against the window, and he, too, was silent.

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