You woke up with (Y/H/C) sprawled all over the bed. The soft (Y/F/C) was painted on the walls in your bedroom and had a homey and comfortable feel and look. You looked at the clock next to the bed, wondering what time Clint set your alarm for. Wiping your crusty morning eyes, you were able to make out the numbers on the clock. 5:00 AM. You sighed. No more sleeping in for now.
You slipped on a pair on black leggings and a white t-shirt with the SHIELD logo in black imprinted on it. You put on a pair of socks and tennis shoes, and walked over to the mini fridge that Tony provided you with, hoping to grab a protein drink on the way out. As you searched through the fridge and grabbed the drink, you noticed that the clock says 5:30 AM on it. Shoot. Clint said last night he wanted you down at 5:45. You quickly threw up your unbrushed, messy hair into a ponytail, grabbed your drink, and ran down the hall.
"JARVIS, show me to the gym," you panted, your tiredness still not worn off from the early morning.
He instructed you to the gym, his loud automated voice filling the halls. They were eerily quiet, but then again, it was only 5:40 in the morning. Your feet stomping in the hall and panting wasn't any quieter.
You pushed open the door to the gym and glance at the clock. 5:46.
"You're late," Clint stated, appearing from behind the weight bench. He wiped off the sweat on his face.
"You're early," you replied, getting sweaty from just watching Clint set down the incredibly heavy weight.
He raised his eyebrows at you, but said nothing in response.
"Come here," he said. He walked to the other side of the gym and, like he told you, you followed him. He stopped walking and you observed your surroundings. Large targets were placed on the walls, and guns and bows and arrows on the opposite side.
"Now, guns are more of Natasha's specialty, but I know a few things. I'm good enough to teach a newbie," he declared.
"Okay," you responded.
He walked over to the wall with guns and handed you a pistol.
"Basically," he said, looking at you, "you aim, pull the trigger, and hold your stance. It's that easy."
"Maybe for someone who's fought Ultron and Loki," you retorted.
"Give it a try," he sighed, gesturing to the targets. "I won't judge."
You turned around and rolled your eyes when he wasn't looking. You followed Clint's directions, but added a few in there yourself. You balancde your weight between your feet, with your dominant foot slightly more back than the other foot. You raised your arm, making it parallel to the ground. Pulling the trigger, a loud ring fills the gym and your stance faltered. When you looked to where the target was, the hole was in the very outside ring, barely missing the wall.
"Not bad," Clint said, grinning. "You didn't do too bad when HYDRA attacked, so--"
"So that's what the group that attacked at the party was? No one told me anything about them."
"Oh, um, I wasn't supposed to tell you that," Clint stuttered, trying to fix his mistake. "Well, let's try this again, take the gun--"
"Stop," you interrupted again. "What does HYDRA do?"
" (Y/N), let me talk to the rest of the Avengers about this, to see if we can trust you with this highly classified information. But you shouldn't worry about it."
You pressed your lips together, but you kept yourself from asking another question. "Okay," you agreed. Clint's shoulders physically slumped in relief.
"Anyway," Clint continued, "that was a good shot. This time try not to falter your step and it should hit right on."
You nodded and retried, but could't wipe the word 'HYDRA' from your head. The bullet penetrated a little above center, and you received a little smile from Clint.
"We'll continue to work on it, but not bad. Not bad."
~~~~~~~~~~
"Endurance," Clint instructed, "is a big part of fighting. If you don't have endurance, you don't last long. So, we're gonna improve that endurance. Run 5 miles on the treadmill, swim 800 meters, do 100 punches, and then fire 5 bullets."
"What does punching and shooting have to do with endurance?" you asked.
"Punching is something you'll have to do to knock out an enemy or break through a door, and you have to be ready to do that at anytime, tired or not. Same with shooting," he answered, "are you ready?"
"Probably not," you said, "but I'll do it anyway."
You hopped onto the treadmill and began.
You started panting one mile in.
"Why -- do --- I... feel so tired?" you wheezed.
"Two reasons. One, you haven't done this before, but we'll do it every morning."
You sighed, not exactly looking forward to it.
"And two, based on your performance today, you don't have anything to fight for. You have no passion. Stark has his ego. Nat has red in her ledger. Thor shows off. Cap is America's Golden Boy and saving people is what he does. Banner rather use his green guy for good. I have a family. You just need to find something to fight for."
You soaked in his words. Maybe he was right. You had to enjoy what you did to do it right. Maybe you didn't have a family. Maybe you were not privileged. But maybe using this opportunity for a chance to have a family was what you needed. Maybe you needed to protect the world like your life depended on it. For revenge and to avenge.
"5 miles done!" Clint yelled and he pointed to the pool. You ran over, taking your shoes off as you go. You dove in, the cold water hitting your face and cooling you off from your run. You pumped your arms, imagining that your parents were there and you had to get to them to save them.
"Punching bags!" Clint yelled. You hopped out of the pool and began to smack the bag with your knees, elbows, and hands. This was the person who took your family and shot your shoulder. This was the person who needed to be gone above all people.
After 100 of them, you ran over to the targets and picked up the gun, firing and holding your stance. You didn't notice the silent tears on your face or the water dripping off of your hair.
"And... done!" Clint cheered after you finished your final shot. You collapsed to the ground, heaving in air. Clint ran over to you and accidentally touched your hurt shoulder. You let out a groan.
"Hey, hey (Y/N)! You okay?" he asked urgently.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay. What's next?
"Sparring," he said, and your shoulder pain slowly goes away.
~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm gonna come at you with full speed and I'm not gonna go easy on you. I'm not gonna severely hurt you, but when you are attacked and in danger people tend to fight back more than if you're just practicing. Got it?"
You nodde, trying to hide the fact that your heart was racing.
His body flew towards yours, and your head slammed on the mat. You felt a pain travel through your skull, but tried to shake it off. His body lied on top of yours and mustering some strength, you pulled your arm out from under his and flew it over his neck, allowing you to slide out. He flung you off and you flew to the other side of the ring, the rest of your still wet hair coming out of it's messy ponytail. You forced yourself back to your feet and attempted to kick him where it hurts. Just before you do, he grabbed your leg and flipped you over, causing your face to smash into the ground. The red pouring from your nose stained your white shirt, but you just took your hand and wiped it off.
First day of training, and this guy beats you up. Red hot anger engulfed you, anger you hadn't felt since your parents died 5 years ago. It flared in your chest, and you power it to your limbs. You flew towards him and wrapped your legs around his neck, using your torso to power you and flip him over, you finally landing on top.
You took your fist, though sore from the punching bag, and got ready to throw it at him. You were bruised and you hurt, and though the Avengers showed you some hospitality, they hadn't given you anything, yet they forced you to give them everything.
You hadn't been able to get this anger out in a long time.
" (Y/N), STOP!" Clint yelled, but it doesn't register in your mind. You threw the punch, but Clint grabbed your hands as you flew to the other side of the room. Your back hit the wall and you fell to the ground. Your nose still bled and new cuts had now formed onto your arms. You hauled air into your lungs.
Clint ran over, him looking sweaty himself. His eyes were filled with terror.
"Why didn't you stop the first time I told you to!?" he scolded.
"What?" you growled, your eyes now wet. "What first time?"
His voice softened. "You didn't hear me?"
You shook your head. "I'm sorry," you mumbled, tears falling more quickly now. "I've just never been able to get it out before. Just so mad... so unfair."
"What do you mean?"
You looked up, your (Y/E/C) eyes now filled with sadness and loneliness.
"Never mind, (Y/N). Let's go to lunch," he said, helping you up.
"Clint, if you really want to know..."
He looked over at you, his eyes curious.
"Ask Steve and Natasha."
This chapter is a little longer than usual. Is the story making sense so far? If not PLEASE let me know so I can add more info/backstory. Any POV you want to see? Pictures? etc.?
Thank you!!