Broken Wings || Rogue!Clint Verse; @victorious-sigyn
Clint Barton, wrapped in a headscarf and the thickest jacket he could find, was trudging through two feet of snow. Traitor. Disgrace. Killer.
After the Battle of New York, and with the help of Lokiās make over, Clint Barton was seen amongst his peers as no more than scum. Andā¦well, with time? The back talk got to him. They were right. Heād killed too many friends, murdered people heād helped train, and Clint deserved everything. He deserved to be dragged in the mud. So, he quit. He resigned not two weeks after the Battle and decided it was best to eradicate the name of Hawkeye. He wanted nothing to do with it anymore.
Clint found himself in the Scandanavian countries. Wandering and looking for answers. Why was it that heād suddenly black out and wake up in odd places? Why was it that his eyes flickered blue from time to time? He was sure the gemās influence had been completely removed from his system through Natashaās ācognitive recalibrationā butā¦it hadnātā¦Soā¦Why? This was the doing of a man from Norse folklore, so it madeā¦some sense to come here right? It was barely anything to go on, but it was all Clint had.
He continued in the thick snow, growing increasingly tired from walking so damn much and for so damn long. Heād been running for near a month now. He slowed down, and came to a stop. Just a breather. Thatās all he needed. A two minute break.








