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ROUND SEVEN WILL OPEN ON FRIDAY THE 15TH.
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ROUND SIX
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Clint's just been through hell, and is in medical getting a blood transfusion or the good IV drugs or whatever. All the team's there, dealing with their own smaller wounds and Clint directs the title question to the entire room.
Everyone answers in the positive, and he slips back into unconsciousness with a smile.
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+10000
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There's pain, so damn much pain and Clint isn't sure where he is, though he hopes it's edical. The gouges across his stomach are fucking killing and he feels he might have to warn the people hovering on either side of him that he's gonna puke in a moment, especially if they don't stop pulling his eyelids up to shine a flashlight into his eyes. But hey, that means he's in medical which, all things considered, is an upshot. Definitely an upshot from some alien beast trying to rip out his insides for shits 'n giggles.
Something presses against his wounds and Clint screames and it sends fire through his ribs and a marching band of trolls through his head and Clint vaguely remembers falling and the impact that had knocked him out. Fuck, he wishes he'd stayed out ( ... )
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;_;
Clint baby
everything's gonna be ok
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