Kakashi looked at Clint, noting the quiver slung over his shoulder and the sleek bow in his hand. He had thought that he used it just for sport but it seems that it was mistaken.
"So, your weapon of choice is a bow and arrow?" Kakashi asked, his tone curious but laced with a playful edge.
"Yup," Clint replied, grinning as he twirled an arrow. "And I'm pretty damn good at it. Knives, too, but the bow's my thing."
Kakashi's eye crinkled, his thoughts racing.
' He must have excellent marksmanship, no doubt. But guns would outclass arrows—more firepower, less effort, easier ammo. This world's weird. Why use an old fashioned weaponed when you have better options? Well, I use kunais and swords so I don't think that I can lecture him.' He tilted his head, studying Clint's stance.
'He's trained hard, though. His chakra's stronger than most here—about genin-level.' Kakashi's nose twitched, a Hatake trait kicking in. Though not a sensor-nin, his clan's keen senses let him gauge chakra faintly, like catching a scent on the wind.
'Average for a genin, but impressive for this place.'
Coulson clapped his hands, his voice chipper. "You two should get acquainted. A spar might help you size each other up, build some trust before your first mission together."
Kakashi's eye glinted, his tone casual but challenging. "Let's do a spar with weapons."
Clint's grin faltered, his eyes widening with a mix of terror and disbelief. "You sure? Once I shoot an arrow, I can't stop it from nailing your head to the wall."
Kakashi waved a hand, his voice nonchalant. "Yo, I'll be fine. In fact, if you even graze me, I might quit this gig and retire to a beach somewhere."
Clint stared, then looked at Coulson, who was barely containing a grin. "But… he's serious?"
Kakashi pulled a kunai, spinning it with a flourish. "I'll even sign a waiver, Agent Barton. Let's make this fun."
Coulson nodded, his tone playful. "Go for it, Barton. Don't hold back."
Clint shook his head, muttering, "Fine, but if you're dead, don't haunt me, man." He took position at one end of the arena, nocking an arrow, while Kakashi stood relaxed at the other, a kunai dangling loosely in his hand.
The spar began with a twang as Clint fired an arrow, its speed a blur. Kakashi flicked his wrist, launching a kunai that collided mid-air, knocking the arrow off course with a metallic clink.
Clint's jaw dropped, his eyes wide. "What the—?!" He fired another, then two more in rapid succession, each aimed at different angles. Kakashi countered with precise kunai throws, each blade intercepting an arrow, the clatter of metal echoing in the room.
'He's good,' Kakashi thought, 'But nothing special. And he is supposed to be their best agent huh?'
To toy with Clint, he hurled a kunai that grazed Clint's quiver, another that nicked his boot, and a third that pinned his sleeve to a target behind him, all without drawing blood. Clint froze, his expression a mix of shock and indignation. "You mocking me, Kakashi?"
Kakashi's eye crinkled, his voice teasing. "Just keeping you on your toes, Agent."
Clint growled, his pride stung, and nocked five arrows at once, firing them in a spread aimed at Kakashi's arms, legs, and chest. The arrows screamed through the air, but Kakashi's hands flashed through seals.
"Wind Style: Gale Palm!"
A burst of chakra-infused wind erupted, deflecting the arrows into the walls, where they embedded with dull thuds.
Clint's mouth hung open, his bow lowering slightly. Coulson clapped, his excitement barely contained. "Incredible! How do you do that?"
Kakashi wasn't done. He pulled three kunai, his movements a blur. The first sailed straight, but he threw a second to redirect it mid-air, then a third to nudge it further, and a fourth that struck the blunt side of the first kunai, sending it spinning to tap Clint's hand with just enough force to make him drop his bow.
No blood, no real harm—just a point made. Clint yelped, rubbing his hand, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Okay, what the hell was that?!"
Kakashi's eye smiled, his tone light. "Just a little shinobi trick. You good?"
Coulson stared, his tablet forgotten. "That… was insane. You're like something out of a comic book!"
Clint retrieved his bow, his shock giving way to a grudging grin. "Alright, Kakashi, you win this round. But I'm getting a rematch, and next time, I'm bringing trick arrows."
Kakashi chuckled, tossing him a shuriken. "Practice with this. Maybe you'll keep up."
---
Meanwhile, in his mansion, Tony Stark lounged in his workshop, as he gazed at the screen.
He sipped a coffee, his eyes fixed on a clip of the Hulk rampaging through Harlem, green fists smashing cars like toys. "Jarvis, get me a file on this Hulk."
"Dr. Bruce Banner," Jarvis replied, his voice smooth. "A brilliant physicist exposed to gamma radiation, resulting in his transformation into a superhuman entity known as the Hulk. Currently a fugitive, pursued by General Thaddeus Ross, who seeks to replicate his abilities."
Tony smirked, leaning back. "Fascinating. So Ross thought he could bottle that green rage machine. Didn't work out, did it? Got himself an Abomination—aptly named, by the way. Guy's got the charm of a landfill and the looks to match." He chuckled, shaking his head.
His attention shifted to footage of a silver-haired figure—Hound—taking down both the Hulk and Abomination with moves that defied physics.
"Now this guy," Tony said, leaning forward. "Equal to me in size, but taking on monsters like it's a Tuesday workout. What do we have on him, Jarvis?"
"No identity detected, sir," Jarvis replied. "Known only as the mercenary Hound. Mission completion rate: 100 percent."
Tony watched Kakashi's fights, the water prisons, lightning streams, and that spinning blue orb. But instead of marveling at the abilities, he zeroed in on something else. "Jarvis, whose hairstyle do you think's better—his or mine?"
Jarvis paused, his tone almost teasing. "Pardon me, sir, but Hound's silver hair has a certain… gravity-defying charm. I'd have to give him the edge."
Tony's jaw dropped, his hand clutching his chest in mock betrayal. "I see, Jarvis. Throwing me under the bus for a guy who looks like he just walked out of an anime. My sleek, billionaire-chic look's getting no love?"
"Apologies, sir," Jarvis said, his voice dripping with dry humor. "Perhaps a touch of silver dye could elevate your style."
Tony snorted, waving a hand. "Keep dreaming, buddy. My hair's iconic. This Hound guy's got moves, though. Gotta admit, he's got style." He rewatched the Rasengan clip, muttering, "Wonder if he'd sell me that glowy ball trick. Could use it to spice up the next Stark Expo."
--------Author Notes---------
Thankyou Grabbott and Diego Espinosa for supporting me!
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