There is nothing but pain, the agony of broken bones and mangled flesh. The Initiate pulls the string tighter, and Clint's last bit of breath gasps out of him, mind reaching for a million unrealized ways he might escape. But he can't, and yeah, he's got that there in the back of his mind. The flail of his broken limbs quiets, pain muted, fading in and out in a way he knows but can't fight. He doesn't want to, he doesn't remember why he did in the first place. A whisper of mercy, perhaps.

But the black of unconsciousness ebbs over him, and its a relief.

Clint does not wake up. Not before the arrow pierces his heart, and certainly not after.