Punch, shoot, and sleep are the only things I had known since that fateful day. Most importantly, none of them were done by me. More like they were done on me and by me without consent. It seems confusing, right? I will explain it from day 1.
—-Day 1- Punch—
BAM
"Asshole! Can't you at least warn me?"
BAM
"* FUCk*, what kind of psycho are you? I still haven't healed from the injuries. Injuries, you have given me."
[Contact the upper right abdomen, punch is headed there.]
BAM BAM GAG
"Enough."
BAM BAM
"I quit, damn it."
For the first time, Barton spoke while looking at me. "Kid, stop being a kid."
[Clench the jaw, a jab is headed to-]
BAM BAM GAGH
"AGH! *COUGH* COUGH* Asshole, I am a kid."
Really, I am a 100% civilian in both lives. Most importantly, my body is growing up. My knowledge as a doctor is screaming at me that the bones broken and not healed might mean a series of surgeries in the future to correct them.
"You, Better dodge instead of whining kid."
BAM
I had enough and screamed out, "Then untie me, you sick fuck."
"It is the punishment for losing the fight yesterday, kid. In the real world, losing means dying. My job is to make sure you live."
I felt tired hearing the same thing again and again. I am sure I will have multiple casts added with the way things are going. Here I am, in some unknown forest tied upside down from the branch of the tree with the Legolas knockoff beating me up since I woke up.
BAM BAM BAM
"Fuck, I am sorry for pissing you off."
[Brace your shoulder.]
BAM BAM
"I can't do this anymore. I am quitting."
[Host is recommended to brace your shoulder]
BAM BAM
[Dislocated right shoulder is put back into place by the impact.
Mobility restored]
I could feel my vomit drying off as I groaned out, "I am sure I will do well in Tech side. In fact, I will be the best there."
I finally got a response.
WHOOSH
THUCK
Unfortunately, it was a kick to my head, sending me into unconsciousness.
B- B- BA- BAM
B-BAM
BAM
I felt like crying, but I couldn't because my tears have already dried up as he continued hitting me. Considering the fact there is a moon in the sky, I realized it has been 24hrs since I was brought here.
—-Day 2, Shoot—
SLASH
As the rope was cut down, I gasped for air, not even bothering to turn over. Just the few glances that I had of my body were enough to know my condition, it was ugly beyond words with bruises of various intensity littering my body.
AI, report on the damage.
[Muscle sprains 33
Bruises 23
Swellings 13
Fractures 3.
Permanent damage= None]
What is this a number game? I know this guy was skilled, but I didn't want to see his skill being used on my body.
THUCK
I looked up with great effort to see a desert eagle in front me and a piece of paper.
GROAN
With a lot of effort, I read it.
"Use it to find some food and eat. I give you 24hr before I return."
It was only now did I understood I didn't eat for 24hr straight. In a way, it was a first for me. Perhaps the pain was too much.
What I did was sleep. I had enough. It might have been an hour or even just a minute, but the sounds I heard scared the shit out of me..
AWOOOO
ROAARRRR
[Sounds cross referencing with database: Wolf packs, Tigers, Foxes….]
Seeing the long list, I jumped for my gun.
"FUCK! It Hurts."
My mistake made of fear led to an increase in sprains. It made me wonder just how neurotic Shield is to research the right way to break a human body. If these kinda injuries were made by anyone else, I am sure my body would have gone into shock or I would be in a coma.
I did my best to get to my feet and looked around. It was only now did I notice my eyes were blurry. It was with a lot of difficulty that I neared the shrubs.
Why you ask?
[ Weeds - foul smelling to the animals.]
I rubbed them all over my bruised body and finally rested against a rock formation. If something comes I eat, if it doesn't, then it's fine. Even if it means telling a bit of a future knowledge, I am getting out of this.
No wonder Tony stark or any other tech superheros bothered leaning martial arts or combat. If this is the 2nd day, I can't even imagine the rest of it.
The scary thing was that even barton was considered a glorified cannon fodder in the future events. Compared with my own restrictions for my future self, I felt like giving up.
TWITCH
I looked at the rustling shrubs and lifted my gun up and waited for whatever animal to come out.
T0 my relief, it was a rabbit.
It seems I am hungry enough to not care about anything.
[Processing host condition.
Support the gun on the knee, relax the biceps [chance for tear]….]
While I can't follow these suggestions spontaneously with adequate time, I am confident.
BANG
PUCH
Looking at the bleeding rabbit, I sighed. It seems I need to get accustomed to doing this on the fly.
The right posture, observing the wind flow, the target ….
THUCK
It was only did I understand how unaccustomed to guns I was. Just the recoil made me drop it. Sure, I was injured and starved.
Something like that is common in marvel.
In hindsight, I was chasing Tech with all my passion, with only keeping up my physical fitness as a side priority. It seems my lack of anything related to violence bit me hard. So much for thinking that some karate spars and few sports are enough to give me an edge.
Fuck the fanfics and my naïve self to thinking this is easy.
—Day-3 Sleep—
Barton arrived without a sound, just like a ghost.
I mean literally the statement literally. My blurry eyes saw a tree one second and Barton the next.
"Hmm, it seems I am right. You have talent."
"Huh!"
Barton, looking at the bones of the rabbit and the fox I ate, said, "When I saw your physical fitness and you're firing the gun with the ever change possible, I thought of you being talented. It seems you were smart enough to use your so-called genius for that, knocking off years' worth of menial work for most agents. Few can take my punches, even if they were non-lethal. Though, that is the only positive things I know about you. The rest of you is sorry mess. Arrogant, civilian, not a hint of toughness and can't even take a proper punch, giving up with just being punched..."
His long list of things slapped me like a bitch. Though the next thing made me feel despair.
I simply wanted to throw you to the Tech department after the customary hazing, but you have genuinely shown talent. You adapted to my punches the right way. Though a bit a slow, probably because of your tendency to use that big brain of yours. Though, I must say it is quite sharp to actually disguise your self and hunt considering the state you're in. So, you are a lucky kid. I trained you fully. *Ring* *Ring* Let me inform them, I am taking my vacation now."
His bright smile while informing Shield he is taking a leave made me regret following the AI suggestions. Sure, it would have been more painful, but I would be rejected as a field agent and thrown in tech.
I shouted at him in despair, "No, no, No. It was just a coincidence. I am not that talented."
SIGH
Barton shook his head. "You are searching for a way out. While it would be good if you did that like an agent or fighter but you are giving up like a civilian. You are not a civilian right now and I would not allow it. Unfortunately, your time as an agent is too short."
Of course it is short, it has been literally 3 days.
"Never mind! Given your genius and other test results, you don't need the strategy classes, investigation, and other things that most agents spend years on. We can give you what you lack directly.
He gave savage grin while taking out a gun while pointing at my head uttering a single word, "Experience."
BANG
[Bullet is heading to the frontal bone -]
THUCK
[Impact on frontal bone]
OK, I know.
My head throbbed like a hell as I heard barton say, "Sheild training weapons. They resemble the real guns in all things, including the speed and power except for the fact the bullets are pressurized rubber polymer 43. So, they resemble real bullets, but just don't kill."
They hurt even worse than his punches. I am definitely sure the speed is the same as a real bullet.
CLICK CLACK
THUCK
I felt chilled as the suitcase he carried opened to show many guns: rifles, snipers, shotguns, even a fucking RPG.
"From now on, every third day, I will sacrifice my sleep and help you do the same. After all, you can't always have a sleep before a fight. In fact, there were days when I had to stay awake for a month on a mission with a few minutes of sleep here and there."
I could let out a quiet, "Hmm!"
"Oh! Kid. You can use your gun. Even though it's real, it might as well be useless in your hands. If you can even scratch me, I will let out. If you managed to bruise me, I will directly have promoted into a level 3 shield agent. If you injured me, well kid, you might as well replace me. Let's not talk about impossibilities and shoot each other, punch each other and take away each other sleep.
—Time Skip : 6 months later—
And so that's how I spent my training days.
Punch, Shoot and Sleep. More like steal some sleep time, who cares.
The first 3 months were torture and had me giving up in tears and vomiting multiple times, but from the 4th month, it changed.
I finally noticed that while Clint's method was cruel and psychotic, it had a significant effect on me.
Seeing the punch heading towards my chin, I felt like smiling. Barton has a habit of always going for the chin. The sheer number of times I got hit made me easily recognise this even faster than the AI.
[Uppercut towards chin]
With a slight bending of my waist, I avoided it easily and got into this space with a slight push on the ground with my heels.
My years of muscle control exercises didn't go to waste, as Barton said.
BAM
As expected, my punch was easily caught by him but, that was what I was aiming for.
"AHHH!"
With a jump, I made an overhead arc over Barton, using my caught fist as a support.
WHOOSH
THUCK
RUSTLE
My legs folded over the tree branch passing over him. Barton, looking at my ridiculous posture, snorted and asked me, "What are doing? A circus feat."
I nodded and said, "I am."
In fact, I looked up circus training and added it into my AI processing when I was still a kindergarten.
RUSTLE. RUSTLE
WHOOSH
Barton was not stupid. So, he didn't wait for whatever I was cooking up and dragged my caught fist towards him and swung my hand over his shoulder.
WHOOSH
THUD
While being slammed into the ground riddled with stones hurt, the 6 months spent on being broken and healed by Shield's advanced medicine made it easy to bear.
So, I pulled the trigger.
For the first time, I saw Clint panic, as the bullet grazed the side of head, making a slight cut above his ear.
DRIP
DRIP
The sound of Clint's blood dripping was clear to me as he extended his knees to become fully straight again.
"Fuck, even in that position, you flexed your knees to dodge the bullet. How the fuck are you doing that? It is so freaky. You are literally dodging the bullets."
Clint snorted while looking up at the tree where I hid the gun beforehand. The shaking of the tree allowed it to fall of my the place I hid it. Naturally, I caught the gun when I was shoulder threw by Clint.
It seems unbelievable, like a creative imagination, but I can put it into reality.
THUD THUCK
I watched as Clint's kick made two guns fall from a tree, which he expertly caught. A chill passed over me when I realized these aren't the training ones because I keep track of every single one of them so that I know which one he uses for me.
"Hawk-eye."
I saw Clint looking seriously at the guns. "Hawk-eye, that's the moniker given to me for my superb vision and reflexes. No matter how fast, no matter how tiny or big an object me, no matter how many of them come, I can process and react to them on the fly. At least, until the extent my body can allow me to react."
He unlocked both the magazines and then slammed them together to knock them back in to check their condition. Something he literally knocked into me. Telling the condition of a gun with just having it in my hand..
It was skills like this that made me happy at my decision to join Shield, but Clint's look made me gulp in fear for the next lesson.
"This vision of mine is not a talent of mine. In fact, I trained it over many encounters with death. I am jealous of you, kid, because you have such a talent naturally, though not good at using it as well as me. You are slow to react to the things you see. I am sure a few bullets gunning for you head or dick will solve that."
I immediately turn around and ran away.
WTF
It is the AI that can process and send me the details, not me. Fucking hell, I might really die if the muscle had really intended to train me like him.
I am no Hawk-eye.
[Alert, bullet fired toward ha-
BANG BANG BANG
[-ov-]
WHOOSH
[—-Thig—]
WHOOSH
"AWWW,"
Before I could read them, the bullets arrived and passed by me and hit the tree in front. Fuck, if I didn't turn, the bullet would have hit my thigh instead of just grazing it.
The burning sensation felt both familiar and new. It was familiar because of the training bullets Clint used in my training. However, it was also new because it brought a sense of extreme danger unlike anything I had ever felt before. Not even encounters with tigers or wolves in the forest gave me this feeling. But I outsmarted and escape from them easily, using the trees like Tarzan.
[Da-]
BANG
But, the bullets are more painful, especially when they rip through your palm and come out of it.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
—-San Diego Airpot, 1 year since joining Sheild—
"HMMM, Ha. So beautiful. So awesome."
I must have looked like a bumpkin looking at everything with utter fascination and love, but a year with only occasional visits from Clint is hard on me.
Though Clint spent 3 entire months on me, it is the limit he could afford. The rest of the time he comes, beats me up, gives me a bullet wound and leaves. Every single one of them with maximum pain and zero permanent damage. Of course, that's if you don't count the scars.
Still, the results speak for themselves. While I am not Barton, I found a new way to use my AI. Combining both the training and a way to warn me. It -
SMACK
"Enough."
I looked at Clint, who opened a suitcase filled with dozens of weapons, including a C4 charge in a fucking airport while we were in an open cafe.
He and gave a nod and hummed, "This will do."
CLACK
He closed the suitcase and gave it to me with the flight ticket. "Bring the suitcase, kid. This is my last training test. I will wait on the plane."
I heard him whispering something about too much shawarma.
I felt dumb and looked like a gaping fish.
"Hey you."
I looked at the airport guards at some distance coming towards, "Fuck."
Looking at the minimal, a 24/7 real time updated map made by AI by processing the data from my senses. It took me a lot of time and effort to make it in a way that doesn't affect me and actually of use in combat.
So, I slipped into the crowd.
"Can you hold this for me?"
"Hmm! So it is a shield suitcase. A tracker and fingerprint lock. Much more useful."
"Sorry officer, I still have a 6 hrs for my flight."
Slugged back into my seat at the last second while looking at Clint reading a newspaper, "Finally, I have arrived. You are an asshole."
Clint hummed and looked at me from top to bottom. "Where's the suitcase?"
I snorted and said, "Considering your nature, I am sure the suitcase would have been found in airport scanning. So, I had it been delivered in New York."
Correctly hacking the person, device, and information can allow a smuggler to smuggle the suitcase back to América happily. He does as I ordered or spends the rest of his time in jail.
"I am disappointed."
"Huh!:"
"While you used your brain, but what if you need the weapons?"
I could only ask, "Why would I need an armoury on a fucking flight? Beside I have a gun."
I took out the desert eagle from under the food tray hiding it from sight.
Barton took the gun and whistled. "At least my training made you think like an agent, being flexible and finding a work-around solution to the problem. Here is my last lesson. We are never given full information until the last moment. So, never go about finding work around that crosses the instructions on you mission."
The last thing I know, Barton took my gun and put it in jacket while saying, "It is a pity, the weapons crate would have been quite useful for you."
BOOOOM
CLUCK CLING
The sound of the airplane floor opening was felt rather than being heard before. I was free-falling from a moving airplane while looking at Barton, who is still strapped to his seat comfortably in the airplane.
"FUCKK, YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU,"