A normal human being takes an arrow out of it’s sheath, knocks it, pulls back, aims and releases. The process done accurately for a single arrow can take even an expert dozens of seconds. Hawkeye’s target faced a barrage of arrows instantly. There was no way to evade such an array. No way, of course, except just how Magneto did it.
The arrows stopped, turned and fired. And just like that the predator had became the prey. Another set of arrows raced through the skies, but they too stopped and joined the reversed assault. A single arrow was then released, but when it stopped, it didn’t turn. It exploded disintegrating Magneto’s potentially deadly counter.
The splinters of broken arrows clicked against the floor. The air was empty. That emptiness created a certain desperation inside Hawkeye. So, he did all he knew. He fired. He fired, everything. And everything stopped, everything except a single arrow.
The plastic arrow found it’s mark piercing Magneto’s thigh. Screaming in pain, Magneto raged upon his opponent. Arrows shot through Hawkeye escaping on the other side of him only to fly through a new unpenetrated area.
“Athletic. Accurate. Inventive. Yet, like all men, inadequate.”
Magneto stared down at the disfigured corpse of Hawkeye, blood dripping down his leg.