Even in Hell there are shooting stars

[metalicarus]

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.

Comments

[silberfuchs]

It's been two weeks since the start of the arena and Albert has had no luck in finding Jet. He's been lucky in other ways, or maybe just blessed, with Jessica and Barbie both having sent him gifts - Barbie he'll have to ask why once the area is over; they'd spoken once and he's a mentor for another district, there must be an ulterior motive - he's well stocked for food, water, and tools. Everything else he's been able to scrounge. He's run across relatively few people in his careful mapping of the arena, sticking to outskirts and places where he can duck in quickly to take a look around then be out before he's discovered. The fog has been an aid, rather than a hindrance, and he's kept himself relatively sated on a diet of scrounged food and what little he allows him of his rations to make them last longer.

And then the sirens blare and he's suddenly twelve years old with the Allied bombers passing overhead and he makes a mad dash for the nearest cover he can find, a flimsy shed that he knows won't stand up to the bombs --

He's certain he didn't hear the tell-tale whine of falling metal, there was no explosion to rock the ground and send up shrapnel and dirt, but still the area grows stiflingly hot and the four cramped walls surrounding the German crack and peel like so much paper, weathering in quadruple time and falling away into dust before his eyes. He finds it hard to breathe, panic and humidity both seizing his throat and crushing his lungs, making the beat of his head speed to an impossible whirr. His limbs feel suddenly heavy and numb in places, and a cold that shouldn't be in the now arid environment washes over him. He has to gulp air to calm himself down, the metal handle of his shovel straining under equally metallic grip. It's that creaking noise that finally makes him realize.

He's a cyborg again.

Whatever this is, whatever they'd done to the arena, had also somehow activated the ijiva and that thought, singularly, centers him faster than anything else.

He's a cyborg again.

Albert steps out of the remains of the shed, shovel slung across his back and supplies in various pockets on his person. He feels strong, powerful, and while he knows he'll likely feel uncomfortable about it later, right now he's silently grateful to have his cybernetics back.

He's a cyborg again and he can find his partner.

Caution all but too the wind, Albert starts towards the main street, an area that he hadn't yet explored in detail due to its exposed nature. The motor in his chest won't wind down to normal levels as he walks, but he chalks it up to stress and exertion, the arena taking its toll and the surroundings still crackling in the heat around him. He'll feel better when he finds-

He hears the whine of thrusters before he sees the streak of light rocketing into the air like a comet, burning blue against the thin red haze that seems to have settled around things. Of course, of course that's what Jet would do the second he could fly again. Idiot!

Before Jet has even started to fall, Albert's already crashing through the arena, making a b-line for where he's likely to land, cursing strongly in German under his breath.

[metalicarus]

Jet was slow to regain consciousness with his ears buzzing and his head stuffed with cotton like it was. All the sounds around him seemed muffled and far-off and his eyes didn't seem to be working properly when he tried to open them; everything was bright and blurry, but there seemed to be shadows floating at the edges of his vision.

He closed his eyes and fought to bring a hand up to his face, but his limbs felt like lead and a steady pounding in his head started up with the attempt. Blue eyes opened, unfocused, to look around at the shadows. They seemed to be more solid forms and as he tried to concentrate, he could make out a woman hovering near him.

"...Frannie?" Even his own voice sounded quiet and separate from himself. But Francoise didn't respond. She got closer and her hair darkened to a red color with bright blue eyes shining kindly at him.

There was a sound coming nearer to him, the sound of something moving quickly, but all he could focus on was the strange yet seemingly familiar woman at his side.

[silberfuchs]

"Jet!"

Originally he wasn't going to risk calling out; other tributes would have surely seen Jet's spectacular crash and head for the area to finish the blond off when the canon didn't sound. An easy kill, easy money. Which is why Albert's rushing as quickly as he can, having made it to the pile of rubble that had once been a store of some kind.

He sees no one on his way, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. But Albert has his mechanics now, he's practically invincible to the weapons available in the arena unless someone knows his physiology and can aim like a hawk, so he exercises very little caution in his search. He shoves aside pieces of wall and support beams like they weigh nothing, making his way to the center of the ruined structure.

And there he is, alone with glazed eyes, but his limbs all seem to be intact.

Albert tramps to Jet's side, immediately starting to run his eyes and hands over his partner to take stock of any injury and running his mouth in quiet but relieved consternation. "What in the world possessed you to use yourself as a battering ram? Did Gilmore's work ruin your brain instead of enhance it? Idiot. You were supposed to come find me, Arschloch."

Despite his words, though, Albert's ire drops into cold fear as he sees that Jet's eyes aren't focusing like they should be. "Jet? Spätzchen, look at me."

[metalicarus]

Spätzchen. It echos in his head and pulls his eyes away from the woman to look at Albert. A small smile pulls at his lips when he recognizes the German and his happiness at finding the older man again is almost enough to make him forget the woman who'd distracted him before. Except she floats back into the corner of his vision and seems to settle beside Albert, like she belongs there.

Who was she?

Her hair seemed to change, the color staying the same but the style morphing a bit to something else and his mind seems to forget it wasn't always like that. This woman he recognizes, even though it's been decades since he'd seen her or her sisters who had stayed in all of the cyborg's memories. But this particular sister brought a look of pain and betrayal to Jet's face and he unknowingly shrank from Albert's touch.

"You've come with her? I thought you didn't trust her, but she's what you want, isn't she?" His eyes unfocused as they switched to the red-headed woman. "You chose Bina over me. She's pretty and smart and brave and a girl so that's why, right? Fine." He lurched to his side, his face red and hot with fever and blue eyes glazed with visions only they could see as he tried to stand, severely unstable on his own two legs.

[silberfuchs]

"What?" Albert jerks his head around, hand still clasped tight to whatever of Jet hasn't shrunk away from him. "Jet, there's no one here. No one but us, but that may change. We need to get mov..."

He trails off because Jet's started speaking again, looking beside him to a ghost of their past that only he can see and Albert's expression goes stony. He clenches his jaw as Jet finishes but still reaches out to steady the blond in a steel grip. "Bina's dead, Jet. She's long dead and you're seeing things."

It's all too easy to keep Jet near him, the American having no direction to his staggering and no strength to resist him with the obvious sickness coursing through him. He can't feel how hot Jet is with his own hands cold metal, but he can tell from how red the other man's face is and how glazed his expression that it can't be a natural temperature.

Maybe that's why he flew straight into the dome against logic.

"We have to move, Jet. We have to get somewhere safe so I can take care of you."

[metalicarus]

He feels like he should pull away but he doesn't really want to and even when he tries, he finds it's like trying to pull against an immovable object and he's only pulled back to Albert's side.

Bina vanishes, but the thought of her doesn't, only the words 'somewhere safe' break through enough to allow him to think straight. Somewhere safe meant Albert being safe and even if he was mad at him, Jet still wanted him safe.

"There's...a house. Down the street. West. Yellow." Or at least, it had been when he could remember seeing it, his mind still hadn't caught up to the fact all the buildings had seemingly melted around them.

"you aren't going to leave?" It's said with confusion. Wasn't that why Bina was here? She and Albert were going to leave and be happy together and how could Jet argue if that was what Albert wanted?

[silberfuchs]

"Of course I'm not going to leave. I've been looking for you." He tries to sound patient and manages simply by virtue of being distracted with finding them shelter. He's beyond worried, but they have to take things one step at a time.

He tries to find the house Jet indicated but nearly all the structures look as if they're barely standing. The walls crack and peel as he watches, coming apart more like seared flesh crumbling to ash than wood or brick. He finds a house that might have been yellow once, the exterior now blackened and rusty in the heat-haze, and he half carries, half drags Jet inside. It's no cooler in here than it is out there, but at least they're hidden from immediate view.

Albert sets Jet down on a pile of textile that was once a couch, unsure for a moment that it can handle the blond's weight. After he surmises that it won't cave in on itself, he uncoils the fabric rope from across his chest and bunches it up or Jet's use as a pillow. "I've got some water. Hopefully that will help a little. We need to find some way to bring your fever down."

The German busies himself with getting his supplies out, shedding his jacket in the process and using it as another pillow for his partner. It's too hot for it right now anyway, even with his mechanics keeping him cooler than human norm. That won't last long though, not in this heat, but he has other concerns.

Soon he has a small cup of lukewarm water and presses it to Jet's mouth, lifting the American's head so he can drink and so the cool metal of his hand can sooth the fever still working in his fiance. "Drink."

[metalicarus]

Jet obeys and drinks as much as he's given, suddenly thirsty even though it hadn't occurred to him before. Once he'd finished his head felt a little clearer and he became a little more aware of himself. At least he felt like he did.

"Shit, Al...what happened? Everything hurts. Musta broken something...doc's gonna be pissed..." Gilmore always gave him an earful when he damaged some part of himself, going on about how reckless and bull-headed Jet was. It was torture enough that the red head contemplated not ever doing anything risky again. Not that that ever actually stopped him, but it was a thought.

There was another thought too, one that didn't fit with the early 2000's era his head had gone to. His voice went quieter when he spoke again, more tired.

"...there's stuff in the staircase."

[silberfuchs]

Jet's color gets a little better with the water and Albert decides to deplete his stores a bit more and pour the blond another cup. He's still not making sense, talking about Gilmore as if he's here to scold the American for being careless. Albert doesn't have the heart to tell him they're alone here without that support; his partner will come to his senses eventually with some care.

Wait, the stairs? That doesn't make sense.

Albert patiently waits until his fiance has finished the second cup before pulling it away so Jet can speak again. "What stairs, Jet?"

[aboveangrybees]

It's the sound that caught Steve's attention, looking up as the sky rippled and whatever hit the top shot down like a bullet. There's a brief moment of being shocked, he knew they were kept tightly confined, but now he could actually see an idea of just how much as the dome projected illusion rippled, the image shifting in and out for a split second.

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.

[metalicarus]

Jet's slow to come to awareness and even then it's a limited awareness. He's aware he hurts and that his face feels like it's on fire and that his ears aren't working quite right. Whoever's coming loser sounds like they could be a million miles off; the only reason he knew they weren't was that he could feel the rubble being shifted around him.

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.

[aboveangrybees]

Steve's brow furrows when the guy seems, well, out of it to put it bluntly. From that hit to the ceiling and the subsequent fall back down, he's not surprised that he's discombobulated. He's a little surprised he's alive really, but Steve is getting a good feeling this guy isn't human as he knows it.

"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.

[metalicarus]

There's no electrical current when Steve touches him, for all the world his arm feels normal, the only obvious sign he isn't are the broken wires in the joint he rammed into the barrier.

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.

[aboveangrybees]

When the man lists his name and number it reminds him so strongly of the time he found Bucky tortured and mumbling those two things over and over again. He'd been so scared he lost Bucky. Really, how many times does he have to live through the fear of losing his closest friend.

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?"

[metalicarus]

"Yeah..."

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.

[aboveangrybees]

His eyes go wide at Jet when he mentions he looks like Captain America, because this is the first time someone he didn't know has recognized who he is on sight. (Well, Matt was blind, so he had that excuse.) Though, once the surprised of it wears off, Steve is more amused than not by it, biting his lip to keep from showing it.

"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.

[metalicarus]

"What?" Jet peered at the guy for a moment before something clicked. He must mean his name was Steve too, that was the only thing that made sense. At least right now.

"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."

[aboveangrybees]

Steve only pauses for a second to think about the question. Maybe after this arena, people will catch on to him more, realize that he really is out here to help people not hurt them.

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.

After Hellrena is over | Near the Amusement Park

[metalicarus]

The air raid sirens went off again and the fog rolled back in like a sea, bringing with it the wet cold that bit down to the bone on the parts of him that weren't covered. They'd stopped to put their coats back on and re-position their supplies, but had kept going despite the limited visibility.

He doubted either of them really knew where they were going, they didn't have a destination in mind, they'd just been generally heading towards the broken amusement park that was now about a mile out.

They could probably make it soon if they kept going, but Jet felt like his limbs had been getting heavier and heavier with each passing second and he knew he'd been yawning more frequently over the last ten minutes or so. Honestly, he felt like he could lie down and sleep through the rest of the arena at this point.

It was only a mile to the park...but it was a long ass mile. Plus, they were running out of suitable buildings for cover.

He paused and ran a hand over his face before looking over to his partner. He didn't want to be the whiner here, but he also didn't want to pass out on the German while they were out in the open.

"Hey Al? Dunno about you, but I'm thinking we might need to stop. Least for a little while."

[silberfuchs]

"Yeah." The German sounds a little vague when he responds. His mind's been wandering more and more and if Jet hadn't spoken up he might have tripped with how much attention he's not paying to where they're going. For Jet it's likely the waning dregs of his illness, for Albert it's a bit more worrisome. True, they're human again and more susceptible to things, but that only means more options for what could be wrong with Albert. He could have caught Jet's illness, could be stumbling for lack of sleep, lack of nutrition, for denying himself water to make the supply stretch further.

But none of the speculation does him any good. He won't know for sure unless more symptoms arise but he could use a little sleep. It couldn't hurt, right? Not as long as they're careful. "Let's find some cover and rest."

[metalicarus]

Jet nodded and led them towards a half-collapsed bookstore. The front had fallen in, but a break in the wall made an opening into what was left of the small shop. The fog seemed to be thinner in here, though there was still a haze of it in the air. moldy and torn up books lined the floors and some of the few remaining shelves.

Towards the back, what must have once been a store room seemed the most intact with only a few toppled shelves and a moth-eaten old arm chair covering the empty door frame. It seemed like a good place to take refuge to the blond.

Jet pushed the shelves out of the way just enough for them to get into the small closet-like room before positioning them back into place like a small barrier and offered the sleeping bag to his partner.

"We'll stay here for a little while. Just for a couple hours."

[silberfuchs]

He's glad to have Jet take the lead and even gladder to sink down against a wall facing the bookshelf barricade as Jet builds it. He feels the weariness in his bones so fiercely that it takes him several minutes to finally notice the cold along with it.

"Is it big enough to share?" he asks of the offered sleeping bag, a shiver making its way through him. He's lost weight, he knows. That first week or so having trouble finding food had taken its toll and though he's been eating more with the more than ample supplies they have now, it doesn't seem to help with the fatigue or with retaining heat. Jet, on the other hand, always radiates it, fever or no. "It's cold, we should share body heat."

Which is only practical and in no way an indulgence of Albert's fears of losing his partner to the arena like last time. Of course.

[metalicarus]

Jet had figured he'd just sleep beside his partner or use him as a pillow since he knew Albert got colder faster than he did, but Albert had a point about sharing body heat and, besides, he slept better while in contact with Albert and the older man's breathing in his ear.

"We can make it work so long as we're on our sides." He laid the sleeping bag out and unzipped it almost completely before kicking his shoes off and leaving them nearby. He made sure the pipe and his knife were within hand's reach as well before climbing into the sleeping bag and waiting for his partner to join him.

[silberfuchs]

Setting his own weapons within easy reach as well, it takes a supreme effort for Albert to get himself from against the wall to sliding into the sleeping bag. Once inside and zipped up - not completely, Albert's too broad for it and they're both grown men in a bag made for one, but it gets to their shoulders well enough - it's nearly too much effort not to drop into sleep immediately. Albert fights it as best he can, murmuring into the back of Jet's neck.

"One of us should stay awake in case anything happens, sleep in shifts..." Though he has little hope of that actually happening considering how he's already slurring his words in weariness and it's Jet's yawning that made them stop in the first place.

[metalicarus]

Jet fought off another yawn and nodded. "Yeah. I'll watch first." It was clear Albert was too tired to, so Jet would have to do it.

He lasted all of a minute and a half before the warmth of another body at his back and Albert's breath on his neck had him fading out of consciousness. The last thought he was aware of was the fact he was glad he'd put the bookcases back where they'd been, that would hide them a bit and hopefully it would be enough.