Jet Link | 002 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
metalicarus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-06-01 09:59 pm
metalicarus) wrote in thearena2014-06-01 09:59 pm
Entry tags:
Even in Hell there are shooting stars
Who| Jet and OPEN
What| Jet flies into the top of the barrier like a champ
Where| On the ground, then in the sky, then on the ground again.
When| Week 3, during Hellrena
Warnings/Notes| Potential hallucinations? Cyborgs.
When the air raid sirens went off and the mist cleared and the heat started in with a vengeance, the only thing Jet was immediately aware of was the fact something was crawling across his skin. At first, he thought it was one of those bugs that had made him sick, but pushing his sleeve up revealed familiar creases cutting though his skin as flesh turned synthetic and bone turned to metal. It felt like it should hurt, but just as with the ijiva he'd thought had left him, it was more like a switch being flipped than a transformation.
His hearing and sight sharpened, the feeling in his feet fled as everything from mid-thigh down turned a hundred percent metal, his mind even cleared a little as the cybernetics in his brain returned. As sluggish as his thought process was with his fever, it took a second or two before the realization dawned on him. He could fly again.
He began moving as though working on muscle memory and set a vague plan into motion. He found a hiding place in the house he'd stopped in to stash the supplies he'd been sent, the metal pipe and his boots and dashed back into the street. He was completely unconcerned with any creatures out for blood with his cybernetics returned and barely even paused before jumping into the air as his feet opened and flared to allow his jets to burst into life.
A steady mechanical hum accompanied with the sounds of thrusters firing filled the street and the blond hovered in the air a moment before shooting up into the sky.
It was a breath of fresh air to be airborne again, to feel the wind against his face and there was a large part of him that wanted to just fly around the whole damn arena for the fun of it, but he had to try something first. If this worked, then maybe he could help out Albert and Venus and Felicity and everyone else stuck in this place.
Up and up he flew, the barrier becoming visible to him through the radar flashing in his eyes. A readout in the corner of his vision told him how far away he was from the object--the dome--and turned red in warning as he got under a thousand feet. Closer, closer, he turned a bit and braced himself, aiming to hit the thing with his shoulder and hopefully bust through it. A hundred feet. Fifty feet. Ten feet.
It sounded like a large gun went off as the American struck against the barrier, but instead of breaking through like he'd hoped, he left a small dot of damage at the pinnacle of the dome and a ripple ran through the illusion of sky. Jet didn't see either of these things. As soon as his shoulder connected with the dome, electricity knifed through his systems and his organic parts and caused him to black out as parts of him temporarily shut down. Instead of simply falling as Jet shut down, the barrier shot him into a dilapidated three-story building that soon became all one level as the cyborg broke through it, leaving him unconscious, feverish and with a sparking shoulder in a bed of rubble.
What| Jet flies into the top of the barrier like a champ
Where| On the ground, then in the sky, then on the ground again.
When| Week 3, during Hellrena
Warnings/Notes| Potential hallucinations? Cyborgs.
When the air raid sirens went off and the mist cleared and the heat started in with a vengeance, the only thing Jet was immediately aware of was the fact something was crawling across his skin. At first, he thought it was one of those bugs that had made him sick, but pushing his sleeve up revealed familiar creases cutting though his skin as flesh turned synthetic and bone turned to metal. It felt like it should hurt, but just as with the ijiva he'd thought had left him, it was more like a switch being flipped than a transformation.
His hearing and sight sharpened, the feeling in his feet fled as everything from mid-thigh down turned a hundred percent metal, his mind even cleared a little as the cybernetics in his brain returned. As sluggish as his thought process was with his fever, it took a second or two before the realization dawned on him. He could fly again.
He began moving as though working on muscle memory and set a vague plan into motion. He found a hiding place in the house he'd stopped in to stash the supplies he'd been sent, the metal pipe and his boots and dashed back into the street. He was completely unconcerned with any creatures out for blood with his cybernetics returned and barely even paused before jumping into the air as his feet opened and flared to allow his jets to burst into life.
A steady mechanical hum accompanied with the sounds of thrusters firing filled the street and the blond hovered in the air a moment before shooting up into the sky.
It was a breath of fresh air to be airborne again, to feel the wind against his face and there was a large part of him that wanted to just fly around the whole damn arena for the fun of it, but he had to try something first. If this worked, then maybe he could help out Albert and Venus and Felicity and everyone else stuck in this place.
Up and up he flew, the barrier becoming visible to him through the radar flashing in his eyes. A readout in the corner of his vision told him how far away he was from the object--the dome--and turned red in warning as he got under a thousand feet. Closer, closer, he turned a bit and braced himself, aiming to hit the thing with his shoulder and hopefully bust through it. A hundred feet. Fifty feet. Ten feet.
It sounded like a large gun went off as the American struck against the barrier, but instead of breaking through like he'd hoped, he left a small dot of damage at the pinnacle of the dome and a ripple ran through the illusion of sky. Jet didn't see either of these things. As soon as his shoulder connected with the dome, electricity knifed through his systems and his organic parts and caused him to black out as parts of him temporarily shut down. Instead of simply falling as Jet shut down, the barrier shot him into a dilapidated three-story building that soon became all one level as the cyborg broke through it, leaving him unconscious, feverish and with a sparking shoulder in a bed of rubble.
no subject
But then he's off to find what, more like who, had shot down after hitting the top of the dome. He was already decently close by, the cloud of dust thick in the air of what used to be a standing building. If it was a person, then he had to see if they needed help, something; they weren't dead, but that doesn't mean they weren't close to it.
He really sucked at these death match games.
After picking his way across the rubble, Steve moves a piece from atop the man he's come to uncover. The sparking in the shoulder causes Steve think twice about touching the other man, not really wanting to get electrocuted.
So, maybe not a man. Something else that's man like? Doesn't matter.
"Hey, come on, guy," Steve raises his voice a little, but still tries to keep it down. He wants him awake and to move him somewhere safe, not attract more bad news.
no subject
The voice is warped and muffled, but unfocused bright blue eyes open in response anyway. For a moment, Jet can't even see the guy for all the flashing warning lights and display read-outs floating in his vision, but then they clear and he's left staring.
The man hovering over him seemed familiar but no name immediately popped into his head. But Jet could swear he knew him from somewhere.
"What happened..? D'you work for Void?" No, that didn't seem right. There was something he was forgetting, something about Void, but that didn't tell him who this guy was.
no subject
"Afraid I don't," he keeps his voice level and calm, not wanting to stress out the man. It's been a while since he's dealt with disoriented soldiers on the battle field, but he falls into this easily. "You've had an accident, how about you tell me your name and what you last remember."
He puts his hand on the man's upper arm, he's not sure if he'll get shocked, but he's willing to risk it to give the typically comforting gesture.
no subject
The fact Steve says he isn't with Void brings obvious relief to Jet's face, though the news he's been in an accident just brings more confusion. What accident? He couldn't remember. What did he remember?
"Jet Link. 524, 12, 1879." The information on his old dog tags came back to him first. Had he been shot down? Maybe-- "There were air raid sirens."
He hadn't heard those since he was a kid being taught what to listen for if the Russians decided to bomb. Was that it? That didn't seem to make sense either.
"...Were we bombed?" They always said New York would be a likely first target. Jet struggled to sit up, though his head decided to bring a drum into his brain when he did.
no subject
He blinks away the memory, focusing on the familiar name. Jet. Albert mentioned he had a friend he was looking for named Jet. Fits the description too.
When Jet tries to sit up, Steve places his other hand on the man's shoulder, trying to hold him steady but not exerting force.
"It's okay, just settle down. There wasn't a bombing, Jet," he uses the name to try to reground the guy. He makes sure to keep his voice level and calm, trying to pass on the feeling from himself to the other man. "You fell, so you need to take it easy for a minute, okay?"
no subject
He said it absently, his hand coming to his face as though the pressure of his fingers on his forehead could stop his head from spinning and clear things up.
Not a bombing, he'd fallen, nothing new in the long run, but this felt a lot worse than a simple ground collision.
The blond looked back over to the man beside him once his head had cleared a bit...and went extremely still. A small, humorless laugh escaped him.
"I must be hallucinating...you look just like Captain America."
Which would be cool and incredibly mortifying if that were true, but it couldn't be. Plus, hadn't he hit his head? And his face was still burning up, it must be the fever messing with his eyes.
no subject
"Well, I do share his name, so there's that," his tone is lightly wry, because it's not a lie.
"How're you feeling right now?" He wants to move him somewhere safer, but he needs a better idea of how he's feeling. "Would- Can you drink water? Would it help at all?" His eyes move to the wires sticking out and he's at a bit of a loss, but no reason not to offer.
no subject
"I feel fine, I guess. Fine enough. My head's still ringin' a bit." Jet followed Steve's gaze to his shoulder and winced. He'd hit it against the barrier and the fabric over it was torn exposing the synthetic skin below and the wires jutting out from the damaged area. Damn. He reached up and fumbled with them a moment before working to slip the exposed wires back under the skin; he'd have to deal with that later when he wasn't disoriented, it just meant his arm felt a bit like it had fallen asleep.
"Why're you helpin' me? You could've finished me off pretty easy."
no subject
But right now he's new, fresh blood, no one has any idea what to expect from him. Their questioning and wariness is smart; he rather they do that than trust him right off the bat. This was survival, you shouldn't just expect people to be as good as they claim they are.
"There's that saying that nice guys finish last, right? And isn't finishing last here in the arena mean you win? Maybe I'm testing the theory," he can't help the wry quality to his words, it's better than just saying he's just helping because he wants to help. Seems easier to believe when you're not trying to convince them. "So, how about that water?" Steve takes the bottle from the small bag hanging from his side. "If, well- if you can drink it. Can you?" He's honestly wondering now.