Clint POV
"I said, what's your name, kid?" the man repeated.
"I don't have one."
"Don't bullshit me, kid. You just shot me with an arrow; I'm not in the mood for games."
"You're lucky you saw it coming, because that would have killed you," I replied, leaning as far back as I could without putting too much strain on my wrists.
I fought down a smirk at the look of outrage that crossed the man's face before he could clamp down on it. I propped my feet up on the table and tilted my head, waiting for the agent to say something else. He just glared for a moment before knocking my feet off the table.
"If you want to keep your tongue, I suggest you talk," he snapped, leaning forward.
I laughed and leaned forward too so that we were nearly nose to nose.
"You don't scare me, Agent Garrett. I've had much worse than some government lackey trying to intimidate me. Rip my tongue out if you feel the need, because I don't have a name anymore and I'm not going to talk to you," I said before sticking my tongue out at him.
He glared harder and I smirked as I settled back down in my chair, proudly tossing the handcuffs to the side. The agent didn't react other than snap them back around my wrists.
"Name. Now."
I pursed my lips and leaned back in the chair. Agent Garrett huffed and tossed a file on the table. I frowned inwardly but didn't move to see what it was.
"Forty-six confirmed kills. That's a lot for a seventeen year old kid. Where did you learn to shoot a bow? What did you do before becoming a merc?"
"Forty-six is just the ones I've done with my bow. It's actually around 150. As for shooting a bow, I'm just a natural."
"Yeah, right. That much skill takes years to come by. Who taught you how to shoot a bow? Was it AIM? KGB? HYDRA?"
"I don't know what the hell those are. And if you're so damn curious, I learned in a circus."
"Of course you don't know who they are. Nice touch adding the circus. You got any family?"
I clenched my teeth and fought down memories of the last time Barney and I spoke. The agent smirked slightly and I glared at him. He kept asking more question about what hits I've taken and places I've been.
"Seventeen year old kid's got to have a family somewhere. Do your parents know you kill people?"
"My parents are dead," I snapped.
"So that's why you decided to go on a killing spree?"
"Sure," I growled.
"What's your name?"
"Fuck off."
The door opened and the agent that shot me in the leg stood just inside the doorway. He closed the door after himself and pulled the other agent away a few feet.
"We did a bit more research on you, Hawkeye," Agent Coulson said after Garrett left.
"Yeah, what did you find?"
"Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders."
I couldn't help the full body flinch at that name. I knew there were other agents behind that mirror cataloguing all my reactions, but I couldn't help it. That place, while the show had been fun, was horrible.
"Hawkeye, the World's Greatest Marksman. You were what, ten at most then? How did you wind up in a circus, Mr. Barton?"
I screwed my eyes shut and clenched my hands tightly into fists, digging my nails into my palm in efforts to stay in the present.
"Says here that you were orphaned at an early age and were sent to an orphanage with your older brother Barney."
"Shut up, please? I can't- they're dead to me. All of them," I said before he could continue.
"Why did you become a hit man, Clint?"
"Don't call me that! No one's called me that since before I became Hawkeye! They left me behind, what else was I supposed to do for a living?" I yelled.
Agent Coulson's face didn't change even in the slightest. I closed my eyes again and took a few deep breaths.
"Why are you even asking me these stupid questions? Can I ask my own?"
"Protocol."
"Are you going to kill me or not?"
"I've already offered you a job. I'll be your handler during your probation period-"
"Hell no. You fucking shot me in the leg! I'm not working with you."
"You are for your probation period. If you'll sign the contract and give us your prints, I can get you set up in one of the barracks and you'll start your physical therapy."
I blinked at the papers he placed in front of me. It was easily five pages front and back, stapled neatly in the corner with some eagle looking logo at the top of the first page. He slid a pen across the table and I frowned.
"What the hell does all of this say?" I demanded, resisting the urge to ball up the paper and throw it across the room when the letters started getting mixed up, like always.
"It's just a standard contract saying you're sworn to secrecy and you understand the hazards of working for a government agency."
I nodded and picked the pen up, scrawling my name down on the lines he had marked with an x. Next he took my fingerprints and placed all the papers in a Manila folder that had my name on it.
"So, what now?" I asked.
"Now an agent will come in and ask you some questions to determine your mental state and then you'll be taken to your barracks for the time being. I'll be back once they've finished asking questions."
I nodded to myself and he walked out, shutting the door behind him. I didn't bother with the handcuffs, even though they were starting to cut into my wrists. I leaned forward and rested my head on my arms and fought to keep myself more or less calm as I waited for the next round of questions.
