thearena | It's the two men who are the least able to express themselves...

First priority after leaving the Cornucopia; find new clothing and weapons. That had been achieved relatively swiftly, clothing was plentiful and a store calling itself The Authority had provided weapons. A plentiful supply of hunting knives had hidden themselves amongst the dark clothing Bucky had replaced the ice-skating outfit with and the backpack he'd slung across his shoulders was full of other useful supplies.

The ground floor had been covered and he intended to push upwards except that the injuries he was carrying from the previous week were starting to wear him down, particularly the messy brand on his face.

It's what prompts Bucky towards the bathrooms, sidling up slowly to the door and slipping a knife into his right hand when he pushes the it open, quiet as he can. Inside he presses himself to the wall, his hand guiding the door to close softly behind him and then edges towards the corner of the short corridor that leads towards the bathroom proper and listens to the sound of water that signifies another's presence.

Bucky risks peering round the corner before charging in and it's good that he does because he believes the man there is one he should treat as an ally, not an opponent. "Bruce Banner." he says, still mostly hidden by the wall.

Bruce flinched at the voice, immediately grabbing his only knife from his belt, awkward in his bandaged hand, and looked towards the noise. He saw man, one still tucked mostly out of sight, and he tensed.

"Who're you?"

He wasn't interested in a fight. Even discounting his refusal to give the Capitol what it wants, he's wounded. He wouldn't last long against a skilled opponent when he was cornered like this.

"Steve Rogers says you're an ally." he said carefully, his own knife is ready to throw in case that assessment is wrong. Bucky trusts Steve, he trusts him on a level that is deeper than he can understand right now but he will still be cautious, he will still be safe.

"James Barnes."

Bruce let out a soft sigh of relief. He lowered his knife, though he didn't quite put it away yet. "Steve is right. I'm an ally." He wouldn't go so far a say 'friend' yet. "You can put the knife down."

He didn't like it readied like that. It put him on edge.

"Nice to finally meet you, Sergeant."

There's a moment where he considers and then does as Bruce suggests, the knife goes down but not away, held against his thigh. Bucky moves round the corner, his eyes flicking over the bathroom quickly, checking every corner before he moves towards the stalls.

"You're alone?" he starts to push open every single one of the stall doors just in case.

"As far as I know, I am." Bruce's brow furrowed as he watched Bucky check the stalls, not acknowledging the atrocious state of the brand on his face. He slowly put his knife back on his belt. "Give me a chance to wrap my arm. Then I'll help you clean up that brand."

He deliberately phrased it as a statement, a given. He had medical experience, and an ally was hurt. He knew enough of soldier types to know that it was entirely possible that any offer of help would be resisted.

He rinsed the soap off his arm. It still hurt.

There's no one else in here, he's sure of it now. It allows Bucky to relax, just a little. He's still on edge, can't not be here and especially in this unsecure room but he can't see anything to block the door with so he'll just have to stay alert for now.

The fact that Bruce's statement aligns with his own purpose in coming here, and that deliberate phrasing of it as a statement, helps him not immediately dismiss the offer, "You're a medic?" he watches him rinse his arm. "What happened?"

"I've been giving medical attention to poeple throughout the third world for a better part of a decade, so you could call me that." He wasn't an MD. He wasn't licensed by any panel--but he was the best they had at the moment.

"This," he said, as he took a paper towel and gently dabbed his arm and hand dry, "is from the Peacekeepers. They wanted to know some things, and I didn't want to tell them." He picked up a roll of bandages perched on the sink next to him, beginning to wrap his newly dried arm and hand. "I'm guessing that's where you got the brand, too."

He hadn't been able to find out whether Steve and Bucky had been caught during the jailbreak, since he and Tony were on the run with Topher, but he had known that Steve and Bucky had participated. The brand must mean that they were caught.

"Yes. We failed the mission."

He approaches the sink where Bruce is slowly, watching him as he wrapped up his arm. Burns, he notes, before they're covered up. His metal hand, with a fingerless glove to improve his grip with it, rests on the top of the sink, he leans against it.

Bruce's eyes flick to the metal arm. That most certainly hadn't been included in all the history books he had been forced to read as a child. Admittedly, American history focuses far more on Steve than Barnes, but he doubts they would skip over Captain America's best friend getting a prosthetic limb that outmatched even most modern prosthetics.

Come to think of it, Barnes doesn't match the history books all that much at all. He was described as very personable, if Bruce remembers correctly. Then again, he can be remembering wrong. It's been a while since he's brushed up on the minutia of American history.

"Is the metal arm a Capitol addition, or do you have that back home?" He finishes his wrapping quickly, then bends down, pulling his backpack from under the sink and opening it up to take out a bag full of what medical supplies he had been able to find, placing it on the edge of the sink. He takes out a pair of latex gloves, snapping them onto both hands.

Not only does he not want to get his bandages wet, but with all the open sores he has under said bandages, he wants gloves to make sure he doesn't accidentally contaminate Barnes' wound with his own radioactive blood.

"Face me and close your eyes. I'm going to clean it out with soap and water first, then dab a little antiseptic on." He had to preserve what antiseptic he had. Foreign objects could be cleaned from the burn with just soap and water, so no need to waste antiseptic on that.

He's more tired than he first realised and the feeling is followed with a vicious burst of self-loathing for his weakness. It's not right, he has to be stronger, better. A week in a cramped cell with no medical attention and occasional beatings has taken its toll though, as has not been able to stretch his legs properly in that time. But Bucky knows he'll recover soon enough even with the way the Capitol has made him so long as his wound is treated properly.

"I had it before." he says, reluctant to use the word home. Home is not the word for where he'd been in their own world, not even before he'd ended up on hiding out on the streets of Washington.

Bucky continues to watch Bruce's every move and then he shifts, straightening up when he puts on those rubber gloves, trying not to flash back to the men who'd maintained him back in the Hydra facilities. This is not the same, this is a man that Steve Rogers trusts, that Bucky should also trust.

His right hand still has the knife held securely as he faces Bruce as instructed. Focus. He takes in a deep slow breath.

Before. There is a story there, but Bruce won't pry into it. This man doesn't seem like the kind of person with a lot of happy stories. His eyes flick to the knife, then tentatively decides to just let the man keep it out. It seems to calm him down.

"Close your eyes. You don't want to get soap in them."

Bruce moistens a small hand towel he got at Only Bath Salts--soft and washable, good for cleaning wounds--and waits for the soap to get sudsy before resting his elbow on the edge of the sink and beginning to very gently start cleaning away any dirt or sweat that may obscure the extent of the brand from view. It is too late for running water to really help, but he makes sure to keep squeezing the towel so soapy lukewarm water could run over it.

"Do you have anything else that needs looking at? You don't want to get an infection in here."

It takes another moment where Bucky intently stares at Bruce before he does as he's told and closes his eyes. His body is tense, he can't relax but he can endure.

There's no flinching, no visible indication of pain as Bruce cleans the surface of the wound. The stylists had tried to clean him up the best they could before he was put into the arena but were too nervous around him to make more than a superficial effort, they'd gotten him into the outfit and looking moderately clean and had to be satisfied with that.

"Bruising, possibly cracked ribs." If the the pain when he breathed in deeply was anything to go by. "They'll heal."

Bruce, while noting that something doesn't seem quite right with Barnes, is not easily unnerved. He won't skimp out on medical treatment just because the man doesn't like small talk.

"I'd still like to take a look at them later. Better safe than sorry."

He is careful in his cleaning. Methodically re-wetting and soaping the cloth and going back to the brand without skipping a beat. Human faces are not designed for branding. They're not intended to withstand that kind of heat. That said, human bodies are not designed to withstand a lot of things, and he's used to mitigating the fallout when they have to anyway.

"Tell me if I'm being too rough." His ministrations are very gentle, but he wants to make sure because it's harder to gauge that when his hands are ruined and covered the way they are.

"They'll heal." Bucky attempts to insist, a first sign of real resistance. Bruce probably isn't wrong though, the Soldier might have known his limits before but he's still learning them in this new setting, particularly how quickly and resiliently he can heal this way.

He stays so perfectly still when Bruce is wiping the brand. What counts as too rough? It hurts, of course it hurts, the scabbing is raw still. When does that cross the line? Bucky doesn't know, decides it's better to say nothing and just let him carry on with it until it's done. The pain isn't intolerable after all.

"Most things heal. They don't always heal correctly. My job is to make sure they do."

It's not a direct confrontation, but it's firm. He'll look at it later, when they're in a safer location and not liable to be walked in on.

Bruce is thorough about his cleaning. Then he takes out a little antiseptic cream and gently smears a tiny bit over the brand. "That should help." All he needed to do was tape a gauze pad over it to keep it clean and they'd be golden.

A surly expression steals across his face for a brief moment, soon wiped away in favour of his usual schooled blankness. Bucky knows what he's being told is true, it doesn't make him exactly happy about it though.

Bruce may have Steve's word to back him up as an ally but that only extends so far with him.

He opens his eyes as soon as it seems okay to do so, nodding after the antiseptic is applied. The cream stings some but on the whole it feels better for being cleaned. "It will be okay?"

"We're going to need to make sure it stays clean, but I've done what I can and it should be okay."

Bruce pulled a gauze pad from his medical bag, taping it carefully to Bucky's cheek.

"And try to keep your gauze on for now. We don't know what kind of germs are in this place."

Bucky reaches up after the gauze is applied, just barely touching the edge of it with his metal fingers (the flesh ones still holding the knife) before making himself leave it alone. It feels strange against his skin -- he wonders if they ever used to bandage him like this if he got hurt before... "I will."

He promises becaue it's miraculous, and possibly due what small effects of Zola's serum are still allowed to flow through his blood, that it hasn't become infected already and he has no mind to add illness to the already existing list of problems he's facing this arena.

"Will you do this for Steve, too?" Bucky thinks his brand looked even worse than his own and Steve has more injuries besides.

"Of course." Bruce doesn't even think it's a question. Of course he would help Steve. Steve is, if not a friend, a teammate.

He starts packing up his supplies, making sure that nothing got wet from the sink before putting it back in his backpack and zipping it up.

"But we need to find him first. He turned himself into a target with that speech. The sooner we get him, the better."

"He was stupid." Bucky's assessment is less kind but he warms up just a little more to Bruce in that moment when he immediately agrees to help Steve. There are few others ways to earn his dedication than that.

He flips the knife between his fingers idly while he waits for Bruce to finish packing. "I scouted the ground floor, I have not seen him. We need to check the upper floors."

When the other man is done he moves towards the bathroom door, "I'll take point."

"We'll have to be careful. The escalators I saw didn't look very safe."

He hoists his backpack on and follows Bucky out the door. "But you're the army man, not me."

He had a feeling that the man could more than take care of himself.

"No." he agrees, pausing by the door to peer out slowly. Bucky's head swivels back and forth until he is certain there is no immediate threat waiting for them.

The escalators seem to be the only way up the levels, unless you can climb the columns and then up onto balconies. While Bucky is certain he could manage it, especially with his metal arm to help him, he is uncertain about his companion. He decides he should acquire rope the next time he went by the sporting goods store but for now time is pressing and they need to find Steve sooner rather than later as Bruce pointed out, meaning the escalators are the quickest way. "Stay close."

Bucky leaves the safety of the bathroom and begins to move towards them slowly and quietly, expecting Bruce to do the same. How open the space is around and above them gives him good cause to be wary as he leads the way, there is no way to be completely certain they are alone here and far too many places for assailants to launch ambushes from.

As they get to the escalators the assessment of their danger becomes more clear and the Soldier stops at the foot of one to think of the best approach. If he were alone -- he shakes himself, he is not alone, he has one of Steve's allies with him and he has to see the man through. "You go first."

Bucky is bigger and heavier, particularly with the metal arm. If something goes wrong it would be deadly for Bruce to be below him, equally if something happens with the smaller man Bucky will be better able to help him from behind.

Bruce follows the man quietly. Bruce isn't usually one for small talk in the first place, but the Sergeant makes him look like Mr. Talkative. He stays close and keeps his mouth shut, trying not to dwell on the unnerving lack of expression on Barnes' face.

When told to go first, he eyes the escalator warily. It's smart to make him go because he's clearly the lighter of the two--he's smaller and he doesn't have a heavy metal arm. That said...

"I have some safety pins. We should pin down the hems of our pants before we go on that thing." He quickly swings his backpack around, taking out a small handful of pins he had originally meant to use as part of a booby trap. There were edges on the escalator, and they looked ready to grab unsuspecting edges. "You keep an eye out and I can pin us both in less than a minute."

The resourcefulness surprises him, safety pins are not an item it would have crossed Bucky's mind to pick up. He did not doubt there was good reason for Steve to consider this man an ally, he is starting to see it himself.

"Alright." he agrees, flipping the knife in his hand again. Bucky turns his head, using eyes and ears both to watch out for danger.

Their vulnerability in this location makes him want to push forward regardless, but it's only a minute, he can wait. His edginess though comes across in the constant flipping of that knife, over and over until Bruce is done.

Bruce can be called many things. Resourceful is definitely one of them. One doesn't go through what he has without gaining an appreciation for the fine art of MacGyvering.

His fingers fumble a little with the layer of bandaging, but he still pins down both his and Bucky's pants quickly enough. Not before he noted that he'd finally found a person who's more antsy than he is, though.

"Okay, that should hold while we get up." He stands, adjusting his backpack, then carefully steps onto the escalator, holding the banister tightly and testing every step before he goes up it. Good thing he does, too, because almost immediately, one of the steps collapses under a testing foot, revealing grinding, angry gears beneath. He skips that step. "I highly recommend testing these steps before you take them, Sergeant."

Bucky doesn't move at all while he pins his pants in place. Nothing, no one... he thinks he hears voices at once point but they're far enough away he doesn't get immediately concerned.

He waits until Bruce is two steps ahead before starting up the escalator after him. "I will." each booted foot presses once with half his weight, again with his full body as they slowly ease their way up. He thinks he could balance up the banister itself but he would not be able to brace himself there to catch Bruce if the other man fell, not without his full strength anyway.

He carefully climbs over the broken step. "... you... don't have to call me Sergeant." it's agonisingly slow going for him.

"What would you like me to call you?"

James? Barnes? Bucky?

Another step crumples like tin foil. He dreads to think of what might happen when someone less cautious than him or Barnes tries walking up these things. The gears beneath the steps look far more menacing than the inner workings of most escalators--he wonders if that's on purpose, or if his imagination is just getting ahead of him. It happens sometimes to a paranoid mind.

He tries not to think about it and just jumps to the next working step.

"Bucky." he replies after a moment. "I'm not a sergeant anymore."

This is getting worrying, two steps gone and they were barely halfway up. Bucky clamps his metal hand on the bannister when he swings himself up over the next gap. Are they rigged to fall at random or is some gamemaker sat with their fingers on a button, hitting away at the right moment to make the tributes jump?

As if to prove his theory the step which had been solid a moment ago under his foot suddenly crumples away behind him.

"Okay, Bucky. If that's what you li--" Bruce glances back as he speaks, trying to make some brief eye contact, when he sees the step under Bucky collapse.

What happens next is completely instinctive. He braces himself on the banister, his grip becoming iron, and grabs Bucky's fleshy arm with the other. And then a second later, he remembers that both his hands and arms are suffering from second-degree burns. He remembers because it's blindingly painful to hold onto things so hard.

He just clenches his teeth and keeps his grip tight. "Got you."

He hopes that the Capitol doesn't collapse the step under him, because his ruined hands aren't strong enough to hold himself up.

Bucky's metal hand doesn't have human weakness, even if now it lacks superhuman strength. He can clench it hard as he needs to without it growing tired or weak and between that and the sudden hold on his other arm he is saved from a messy and grotesque death so early on in the arena.

His eyes, wide and blue, look startled up at Bruce, tracking the grip of his hand up to the other man's face.

Bruce saved him, at his own risk, and his own discomfort, he helped him. It's more a shock than the step giving way.

But he doesn't stay startled for more than bare seconds, heaving himself upwards to the next step he already had a foot on with a growl of effort, digging into the Soldier's mentality to calm his swiftly beating heart. When they're at the top it will occur to him to thank Bruce for what he did, right now he just wants to get off this particular death trap. "Keep moving." he says, with urgency.

Bruce gives a soft sigh of relief when Bucky is safe on the next step and he's able to let go of everything. His hands are throbbing and burning under their bandages, and he probably popped a lot of blisters.

But they're both alive, so it's worth it.

He rests a hand on the banister so he can grab it at a moment's notice, but out of consideration for his pain, he doesn't keep a vice grip. Instead, he just keeps climbing the steps as fast as safely possibly, periodically glancing back at Bucky to make sure he hasn't been ground into paste by the gears after all. "Almost there."

Bucky's calmed by now, nodding in response. They make it to the top with no further incidents.

He's tempted to sit down heavily after that but does not, of course. Weakness can't be allowed to slow him, still... Bucky looks swiftly around and then points to the nearest store. "In there."

Better to take a moment and regain their bearings. Now he leads the way again, scoping out the interior to be sure it's safe. "Clear."

"Good."

All the soldier terminology makes him a little uncomfortable--it gives him flashbacks to all the times soldiers have tried to capture him and have ended up as little more than smears on pavement--but besides the terminology, Bucky doesn't look anything like an American soldier. That makes it easier.

He walks into the store, leaning against the wall and giving it a visual once-over before looking down at his hands. Luckily, he doesn't see anything soaking through the bandages, but the banister has left black grease and dust on the cloth. He might not be able to re-use it at all.

"Did you get caught by the gears?" He doesn't think Bucky did, but he wouldn't put it past the man to get hurt and then mechanically continue onward without mentioning it.

Once inside Bucky takes a corner and hunkers down in it, letting his back press against the wall, cushioned by his backpack. His arms drape across his thighs and though he seems relaxed and at ease he's ready for action at the drop of a hat, still tense and ready for the unknown threats this arena will have for them.

"No. I am... alright." he turns his head and stares at Bruce, brow furrowing. "You saved me."

"Of course I did."

Bruce looks away from his hands, folding them carefully across his chest to glance at Bucky. "Was there a doubt I would?"

It's a rhetorical question. Clearly, there had been, and he doesn't blame Bucky for that. It doesn't take a doctor to notice that the man doesn't seem to trust people, and Bruce is hardly in any position to judge him for that. Bruce himself is still hesitant to trust anyone, even his own teammates.

"Maybe we should try avoiding the escalators from now on."

His eyes dart to the side at the question, then uncertainly back at Bruce. The answer is there in that one motion.

No. He did not expect a man who doesn't know him to risk his own life in pulling Bucky from a messy death. With the injuries on Bruce's hand it would have been easy for both of them to topple backwards, early casualties to the arena, not even lasting a single day. The thought of it, of failing so quickly, of being a disappointment for it churns uneasily in his stomach with a reflexive dread of the consequence for it -- he is grateful for the risk Bruce took for him. "... thank you."

Avoiding the escalators is a priority, "If we find rope we can." The Gamemakers would implement some need to move between floors, he thinks, trying to force them to take the risk going up or down. It's waiting to see what that was.

"Don't worry about it."

While Bruce is far from a trusting man, he has never been a callous one. There's a reason why he has tried so hard to be good and to do good things. He has hurt so many people; he has to do everything in his power to balance out the scales even a little.

"Then we should look around for rope while we're looking for Steve. Maybe we can make one for ourselves if we find suitable clothing or linens." He glances down at his hands again, skeptical of their use for anything much. "How are your knotting skills?"

"Good." he informs him. Tying knots was part of his Winter Soldier arsenal, necessary in a range of situations such as accessing a difficult target location and... and... he thinks of orders, the words to make a kill look like a suicide ring in his head for a moment.

Bucky doesn't chase that memory, let's it go as he focuses on the now, "We need to--"

That's when something changes. There's a metallic rattling at the entrance of the store and Bucky starts to run forward at once but he's too slow now to stop the store shutters from rolling down and slotting into place. He skids to a halt just before them with a noise of frustration and then immediately looks around the interior for any following danger.

"Shit."

They's trapped. That's not good.

Bruce glances into the store, squinting in the dim light from the exit signs. It looks like they're in a bookstore. He hears the familiar sound of the roombas he had seen crawling around the mall. Hopefully, they're not about to get aggressive.

He takes his knife out just in case, even if it hurts his palm. "Can you see anything?"

His eyes will adjust, but if they're about to be attacked, they don't have time for that.

The lights go dark and Bucky retreats back from the door, jaw clenched. He could try and pry open the door, break the lock... he glances back at Bruce when he speaks, "Not much."

While his eyes adjust he turns to a more trustworthy sense in the darkness. He can him the dim electronic whirring of the little robots, Bruce breathing close by. "I don't hear anyone else." the assassin announces after a moment.

But he has a knife ready just in case.

All the papers Bruce had left behind when destroying his biography that day are gone. Probably swept away by roombas.

"Let's hope it stays that way."

Bruce turns his attention to the doors. It's hard in the dark, but as his eyes adjust, he lightly runs his fingers along the steel, examining how it's put together.

"How likely is it that something terrible will happen if we try breaking this?"

Maybe the roombas will band together and start eating their feet.

"Likely."

It takes him less than five seconds to decide that. It's the arena, tricks and traps should be suspected at all turns. It was better to be cautious first than recklessly destroy and suffer for it after.

Bucky feels frustrated though, angry for being trapped. They can't reach Steve now.

"Nothing is safe."

"That's reassuring."

But it's good to think before acting. Bruce paces along the display, looking through any gaps in the metal gate. Gaps are narrow and difficult to see through, but eventually... "It looks like other stores have been locked down, too. It might be on a timer. If it is, it will probably open back up in the morning."

He isn't too fond of the idea of just making camp in a bookstore, but he's not sure he wants to risk tampering with the gate either.

At that news Bucky shakes his head, the rest of him stood stock still and slightly bowed in the dim light.

"We wait then." he doesn't want to risk springing a trap. Bucky has to reach Steve and he has to reach him whole, ready to fight and protect the other man. The bizarre urge to attack the door anyone is forcibly suppressed with a shudder.

At least they know that they're alone in here. He takes off the backpack he'd swiped from the sports store and sets it to the ground, showing little interest in the books around them.

"Do you have any camping gear?"

Bruce shoves some books from the shelf, letting them fall to the ground so he can put his backpack out of the reach of roombas. "I have a knife, water, food, and clothes. I don't think it's safe to try lighting a fire in here. Ventilation probably isn't good enough and we could set this whole place on fire."

He didn't pick any of that up. Didn't think he would need it.

Bucky opens his pack regardless, food and water he pulls out. A flashlight is next and after a moments thought he offers it to Bruce, in case the other man wants it. He himself is quite comfortable in the dark, it occurs to him others might not be. "The rest is clothes and weapons."

A lot of knives.

"Thanks." Bruce accepts the flashlight, then covers up one eye with his palm before turning it on. He has to preserve his night vision in one eye, just in case something goes wrong and he has to act quickly in the dark.

He sweeps the flashlight around. There are a couple roombas doing their job, but otherwise, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

He clicks the flashlight off. No need to draw attention to themselves. "Seems safe enough."

He still sits on the window display, away from the roombas. He doesn't trust anything. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? What I have should last us the night."

As soon as he see's Bruce is going to turn it on Bucky simply closes his eyes and waits, letting his hearing guard him as Bruce checks the room with the light. When he hears the click of it being switched off he opens them again, vision unaffected.

The store deemed safe he chooses to kneel down on the floor, setting his hands on his thighs after putting the backpack down. A resting position easily risen from.

"Thirsty." he decides after a moment. His hunger is bearable for now. "You should be careful with food."

It had been limited in the last arena, safe food, that was.

It's the two men who are the least able to express themselves...

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