![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who|: Alex Murphy and Bucky Barnes, Alex Murphy and Shaggy
What|: Alex Murphy finds out cyborgs and rotten floorboards don’t work together: he needs a super soldier to save his graphene butt. He also intercepts a parachute with food and gives it to Shaggy, the human blackhole.
Where|: For Bucky, an abandoned building on the edge of town. For Shaggy, the Amusement Park
When|: First night for Bucky, sometime during Week 1 for Shaggy
Warnings/Notes|:
Prompts in the comments
What|: Alex Murphy finds out cyborgs and rotten floorboards don’t work together: he needs a super soldier to save his graphene butt. He also intercepts a parachute with food and gives it to Shaggy, the human blackhole.
Where|: For Bucky, an abandoned building on the edge of town. For Shaggy, the Amusement Park
When|: First night for Bucky, sometime during Week 1 for Shaggy
Warnings/Notes|:
BUCKY BARNES
Alex heads out to get a better lay of the land, the fog pressing in like a solid thing he could touch. He alternates between being glad he has a layer of armor between him and…any skin he has left, and being annoyed that every step he make comes with its own marching band. His feet thud heavily against the asphalt. What should’ve been his hips and waist whirr whenever he moves no matter how much he thinks shut the hell up. He couldn’t be stealthy if his life depended on it. Maybe he can just hope there’s a certain intimidation factor to the armor. Scare off anyone thinking they can stab him in the face.
It’s dark out when he hits up the building at the very edge of town. It’s more run down than the others, with a wall of creepers and there isn’t a door at all. He thinks – hopes – that it looks so crappy that the other Tributes might’ve passed it up as a place to check for supplies. He know he would.
Alex steps inside, ducking underneath a low beam. The floor’s strewn with debris and weeds, bricks from where the chimney went down at some point. Stepping over them, he picks his way to what might’ve been a closet. He’s in the middle of shoving aside coat hangers and old jackets when the floor cracks.
Clearly it wasn’t built to support cyborgs.
Alex falls into the basement, hitting the bottom with a deafening thud. Any other day and he would’ve broken his neck and been another Day 1 casualty for the Arena. With the chassis absorbing the impact, he mostly just lies there in surprise, pinned by a beam he can’t get the purchase to push off.
no subject
When he hears the nearby clanking, stomping, whirring noises, he assumes at first that it's some kind of machine monster sent by the Gamemakers. He doesn't yet know whether he has the equipment to fight something like that--the closest thing he has to a weapon right now is a flashlight. So he hides deep within an overgrown corner, obscured by vines and weeds and a few pieces of crumbling furniture.
He's only certain that Alex is another Tribute when he falls through the floor. The Gamemakers' own creations wouldn't sabotage themselves like that.
He slowly, cautiously emerges from the corner, brushing leaves and grime off himself, and picks his way carefully across the room to the hole in the floor. "That was some bad luck for you."
no subject
[ THERMAL PROCESSING_OFFLINE ] and [ NIGHT VISION_OFFLINE ] pop up like floaters, Alex blinking rapidly out of instinct as if that will clear them.
Christ, he hopes this isn't one of those Tributes he heard about. What was it? Those "Careers". Alex is really, really hoping this guy isn't one of those.
"Tell me about it. You giving me a hand?" Alex keeps his voice down, keeps it casual even though he knows he's in trouble. He gets an impression of long hair hanging down over the man's face, something off with his arm. Other than that, he looks like he's built well enough that Alex wouldn't have wanted to get into a fist fight with him back in Detroit.
no subject
Crouching down, he tries to make out more. No luck. So instead of offering a clear and definitive reply, he simply says, "That depends. You gonna try to kill me if I get you out of there? I know it's tempting, but that wouldn't end well."
no subject
"I'll do my best," Alex says dryly. "If you don't stab me in the face. My buddies won't like it."
Alex lies without even thinking about it. It's what got him this far when he was a regular detective who only had to worry about gun runners and drug dealers and if he's learned anything, it's don't let someone you don't trust think you're alone.
no subject
In the same breath as he says that, though, he's lowering himself a little so he can reach safely down into the hole. "I don't give a crap about what people expect of me, though, so come on. I'll help you up."
He's wearing a long-sleeved jacket and gloves; it's hard to get a good read on just how muscular he is underneath it. But the grip of his hands is firm--both on his right where it's warm and on his left where it's cool and hard.
no subject
"...I can't reach. Got pinned down," Alex grits out each word reluctantly. He knows it's a miracle - plus the damn life-support/whatever they rigged him into - that he didn't get crushed to death but it doesn't change the fact that he can't worm his way free. Even if he goes with his bluff that he's got bigger friends who'll issue God's biggest ass-kicking to anyone who kills him, there's no promising that Good Samaritan here won't change his mind. He could easily kill him or leave him here and book it in the opposite direction.
Alex shifts his head so he can better see the shadow trying to reach in. Alex can get his arm up, kind of, but as far as he can tell they didn't construct his arms to go a full 360 degrees of motion. No way he'll reach from here.
no subject
And then he's jumping down lightly into the hole himself, scrambling down the jagged rotten wood without taking any injuries, deft in his movements--even to limited vision, in the dark, it should be clear that he's more than just broad and tough, he's also quite agile and capable.
Bucky crouches to try to get a better look at the situation, to figure out how he can help free the other man. "Or maybe you've got all the luck, with that robot suit of yours. You'd be dead without it for sure."
no subject
"Lucky me," Alex mutters, feeling more than seeing the other guy crouching near him. Sure would be nice to have working night vision, but instead he's stuck with his normal 20/20 that was fine back on the force, but suddenly seems like it's inadequate in the Arena. "Anything, brok - uh, anything leaking?"
Alex has a feeling that if he's as hurt as Clara said, he probably doesn't have too many bones left to break. Same goes with crushed nerves and severed arteries.
Actually you know what, he's glad it's this side of pitch black down here. He's hoping the other guy can't see the look on his face right now.
no subject
He starts to move away again, trying to find the outline of the beam that's pinning Alex down. "Aha." His hands settle on the beam, then shift a little as he finds a place where it's a little easier to lift. "You ready? I'm going to try to lift this thing off you."
no subject
"Yeah, I'm ready." Alex braces himself, hoping that if this rig's protected him so far, it'll keep doing what it's doing. He's banking on the idea that if this guy wanted to kill him, all he had to do was keep on walking and leave his sorry butt stuck down here. "On three."
no subject
It takes him a few more moments than he's used to. If he were at full power, if his left arm was working properly, he'd be able to left this thing almost effortlessly. As it is, he strains and breathes hard for a few seconds before it finally lifts and he manages to swing it over to the side where it can't do any more damage.
"Can you get up now, pal?"
no subject
"I'm good. Thanks again," Alex pats himself down, stopping fast when he hears his armor clanging instead of just palm hitting clothes. He drops his hands. "How'd you even lift that? You in the Olympics or something?"
He's joking (mostly).
no subject
It seems almost harmless, to introduce himself as a superhero. It's not like this is his world, where he's in the shadows again. And he wouldn't say that he used to be Captain America, of course; that's giving away too much. And yet, how can he call himself a superhero when he's stuck in an Arena expected to fight to the death?
"I'm in real good shape. I get into a lot of fights back home." He glances around. "Not usually in places like this, though."
thread wrap soon?
"Wish I could say where we are," Alex feels like he's treading a line here, dropping that "we" like he trusts this guy. "I don't know 'bout you, but I'm not a fan of hanging out here longer than I have to."
It's dark and cramped and the building keeps making strange noises like the rest of it wants to collapse on top of them.
sounds good
He gingerly pushes a less dangerous-looking beam into a slant, so that they both have an easier way of getting out of the pit, and breathes a short sigh of relief when nothing else falls over as a result. He takes a few steps up to test it, then holds out his gloved left hand to help the other man up. "Come on."
A pause. "By the way. I'm Bucky Barnes. I'm going to try to help people here."
What he doesn't say: I'm not interested in playing this game the way they want me to. But it's clear enough.
no subject
"Detective Alex Murphy," Alex likes the sound of Bucky already. He's not just blowing hot air, he actually did go out of his way to help him out, so color him convinced. "Wish there were more people like you out there."
He means it, too. Alex jerks his thumb over his shoulder.
"Better get back to my friends. See you around."
He pivots and heads down the road, glancing over his shoulder before the fog sweeps in.