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rosie's p.o.v

of course it doesn't take me long to run into trouble. i never thought i'd feel physically sick at the sight of agent barton, the guy that made me feel safe when my dad couldn't.

we're in a long corridor, separated only by air. he looks just like himself, but angrier. his eyes are a cold soulless blue which sends shivers down my spine. his confident stance casts shadows over my short one and i realise how young i look. i'm wearing a light blue t-shirt and black leggings, similar to what i usually wear when dancing, my hair now pulled into a ponytail to keep the curls from falling into my eyes. i clutch my bow, and clint grips his. i genuinely have no idea what to do.

i can't shoot him, i just can't, he's too nice. however, i don't want to die.

when he shoots his first arrow my initial reaction is to drop, and it all plays out from there as if it's choreographed. he doesn't say a word, so i don't either. we kick and throw punches continuously, a continuous alarm blaring throughout. i still don't use my bow though, i can't, i just can't.

i haven't opened up my wings either, or allowed my antlers to show. i guess loki's words meant more to me than i had realised.

i'm so busy thinking about that and dodging a grenade-tipped arrow shot my way, that i don't even really notice as clint punches a red button on the wall. by the time i realise what's happening, i've already been thrown out the door and into the sky by a muscled arm, and i'm about to drop.

on instinct my wings open and i jolt in the air, suddenly not falling anymore. my lungs are filled by a few deep breaths that were well needed. now i'm angry. he threw me off the ship, he literally threw me. this is not happening. the realisation that i dropped my bow on the jet makes me even angrier, so i hardly even hear dad.

"what the hell are you doing out here? are you okay?" the slightly robotic voice asks.

"i am so angry" i growl, sticking my hand out. the bow flies through the air, narrowly missing dad's head and joining with my palm immediately. i didn't know it could do that but apparently it can.

dad's eyes seem to narrow "no time for being angry, find cover and stay there".

i narrow my own eyes, the anger boiling to a point "not. happening".

before he can protest i propel myself through the open door, coming immediately into contact with an arrow which sticks right into my thigh. i almost vomit. the pain isn't as bad as before i developed my wings, but it hurts, it hurts so bad. i have to close my eyes to recover from the immediate pain wave, allowing myself to take a few deep breaths before opening them again. clint is walking away, unfazed by me. come on roo, it's now or never. take your first shot.

i raise my arm, placing the silver arrow into the notch and pulling my arm back. this is going to be shit, i've literally never shot it before. yeah, well that would have made sense, instead i watch in utter disbelief as the arrow is projected from my bow right into clint's shoulder, exactly where i was aiming. he lets out a small cry of pain and i immediately feel bad. i don't want him to feel pain. however there's not much time for remorse, i have to move if i want to survive.

that didn't work out either.

i run straight into a green wall. at least, i thought it was a wall, until it yelled and grabbed me in it's giant green hand. pressure is applied to the arrow which is still in my leg, and i try my hardest to suppress the whimper that rises in my throat.

"hold on tight roo!" i hear shouted from below, but i refuse. i don't care who it is i am not waiting. my free arm is still gripping my bow, and with about as much strength that isn't going into not crying, i whack it across the discoloured flesh surrounding me. it caused quite the indent, a bruise which i can already imagine forming and almost makes me wince. i'm dropped by the hand and my wings break my fall to the ground. i'm shocked to see that the voice that shouted before was nat, who looks flustered and slightly upset "good job, get out of here" she orders with a nod of her head. i don't need to be told again.

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