"Shit-- " He's barely had a chance to restring and fire off a flare arrow, designed to signal an Avenger in distress.

Then, the broadheads in his quiver all go off, simultaneously.

The seven explosive tips tear into his back, violently rending flesh and muscle from bone in a split, agonizing moment; throwing the archer forward as the sonic heads split the night with their siren song, mingling in a cacophony with the scream that's torn from his throat. Blood peppers the side of one container even as he's thrown into another. Kidneys, liver, torso: all are ripped apart in a mockery of human frailty.

Fingers no longer capable loosen, the compound bow forgotten in the agony of mortality, the crux soaked with the Avengers' lifeblood.

The inferno in his nerves is suddenly gone. The cold takes over, reaching every limb of his abused body. Even in those last moments, he manages to get the last words from his lips; his face pressed to unforgiving steel even as the light leaves his eyes.

"See you in Hell, bitch."

Hawkeye's shattered body falls back to the ground, unmoving.