I Can't Miss (Clint and Wanda)
Three quivers in and Clint has finally found that quiet place that only shooting brings him. The place where his only thoughts are "Draw, aim, release," and the soothing in-out of his own controlled breath. He was at the range this time, rather than the training egg. The egg was good for training agility and his reflexes, but the range was like sinking into a hot bath at the end of a bad day. Everything was muscle memory and the joy of shooting. He had targets of different sizes set up along the far wall at different heights and angles. Each had a light bulb above it that flickered on to tell him which one to shoot for. Most of them, especially the tiniest ones, had their bullseye's pretty full by this point. The light above a medium sized one flicked on and the arrow left the string, embedding itself into the nest of arrows already in the center. It the target made a cracking noise and fell onto the floor in two pieces. He ignored it and kept following the lights.