WHO: Clint Barton
WHERE: Woods behind House 20, Wreckage of House 14, and the mill
WHEN: March 11-13
OPEN TO: Anyone who wants in
WARNINGS: Nothing as of yet; will alter if that changes
STATUS: Open
Target Practice (March 11)Even with the weather still very cold, one of the first things Clint does every morning is go for a run - through the village, not the woods, so as to minimize any chance of random attack by the creatures he's been told live in the forest and any accidents that could land him in a spot where he can't get to (or call for) help. Anyone paying attention to the area around breakfast time would easily be able to spot him and tell this is a familiar routine for him.
But this time when he goes out for his run, there's a box on the porch of House 20.
He's been told about these by a few different people, the "gifts" left anonymously by, presumably, whoever had locked them in here to begin with, and he's fully prepared to ignore it until he sees that the tag on top bears his name. Not bothering to get off the porch, Clint stoops down to lift off the lid, revealing something he hadn't expected at all:
throwing knives, six of them in two flat sheathes, along with materials to keep them honed and polished. The sheathes are clearly meant to be worn over a belt, which he doesn't have, but he can rig something up. And he's never minded drawing from a pocket anyway. They're obviously sharp.
His run that day is foregone in favor of practice. One of the destroyed houses is right down the road, so he'd gone and lifted a few pieces of wood from the pile and propped them against some trees beyond the Avengers' home (specifically out of the way of the road). He doesn't bother painting targets on anything, but he spends a good two hours throwing his new knives at the poor, splintered wood, deciding where the sheathes would fit best for future access, getting used to the heft of the blades and their feel in his hand. For shits and giggles, he'd also borrowed a bow from the inn's storeroom when grabbing his targets and shoots with that, too. The draw weight is still way, way below what he's used to and the arrows feel like feathers in his hands, not weapons, but the only way to become more familiar with a specific weapon is to use it.
He never misses, with either weapon.
Salvage (March 12)The wreck of (what had been) House 14 has been taunting him for a bit now, ever since he, Wanda, and Sam had decided to move to the north of the village and they have to pass it every day to get to almost anywhere. His promise to look at the mill and see what can be done there and his annoyance at not having his normal arsenal of Home Depot collectibles at his disposal during the Town Hall cleanup have been ringing in his head lately. There's just not a lot to
work with here, and they definitely have to use their ingenuity more than anyone he's met so far had at home. There's no way out (that they know of) and, with the exception of the gifts they're sometimes given, no supply chains to rely on, and those are hardly reliable
So it's time to get creative. Also desperate. After a run and a half-hour of target practice, Clint wraps his hands in rags to protect them, grabs the tools he'd claimed from Nat's things, and heads down to House 14, or what's left of it. Because he's going to be hunting for nails and other useable objects and pieces in that mess, cracking and prying open boards as needed to reach them, and throwing the scraps out into a semi-neat pile for people to claim as firewood and even kindling for their furnaces. He even takes a piece and scratches "
free to good furnace" in the dirt of the road with an arrow pointed at the pile, because that's all most of the pieces are good for. The ones that are mostly intact and fairly large he sets aside in another pile for future projects, whatever they might be.
Inspection (March 13)One day's all Clint can really take of continual destruction without proper gear - even with the rags protecting his hands, he'd still gotten a couple of splinters ripping the house apart the day before. Inspecting the mill will be a better use of the day to let the punctures heal up a little, though he'll have to stop himself from diving into any project that isn't absolutely simple and not a huge strain. While he's not an engineer or a mechanic, he'll at least be able to tell what's needed to get started on the place, even if he can't fix everything himself.
As he crosses the bridge to the other side of the river, he can tell that a couple of blades on the wheel have either broken or rotted away, but that damage seems negligible. Someone had built a water gate to isolate the wheel from the current of the river which is closed at the moment, so the wheel itself isn't turning. At least he won't have to worry about getting crushed by moving machinery. The building itself looks sound from all sides, built sturdily of heavy stone closely fitted together and a few windows in each wall for natural light, so any problems are likely to be inside, with the machinery itself. Clint pauses a few feet from going in, looking up at the building with a considering gaze for several seconds, and then heads on in.
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