Welcome to the Arena, Prepare to Die

[grimbiker]

WHO| Sirius and MCU Bucky
WHAT| Sirius runs from his zombie best friend into the exact wrong person.
WHEN| Middle of week 5
WHERE| Main street
WARNINGS| Violence and death



Sirius had no idea what he was doing. He'd had only a brief explanation of where he was before he was thrown into... this place. It didn't feel like a dream. It felt real. But maybe that was what all his relations who'd lost their minds thought when they finally went mad. He'd been under enough pressure. Fighting in the war for years was getting to him, the fact that his best friends had to go into hiding with their son, the suspicion eating away at him. It was amazing he hadn't lost it sooner, really.

With all that in mind, he should have been even more on edge when he saw James walking toward him.

"Prongs! Am I glad to see you." Sirius rushed towards him. On second thought, he really shouldn't be glad to see his friends because then that meant they were in a death arena together but he was a familiar face and if anyone could calm Sirius down it was him.

Only... he didn't talk. He didn't even react as Sirius came closer.

"Prongs? What's-- why are you looking at me like--"

And then James punched him.

Sirius reeled and pressed his hand to his nose. "What the hell? James--" Just as he looked up he received another fist directly at his face.

When James drew his fist back to hit him again, Sirius lunged forward. He collided with his friend, arms around his middle to knock him to the pavement but then James rolled him so he was on his back and started to whale into him. It didn't matter how many times Sirius tried to use his magic, wandless though he was, it didn't work.

Somehow, Sirius managed to punch him enough times to get him off and then he was on his feet and running away from his bewitched friend. Maybe then he could regroup and think of how to deal with him.

What he didn't know was that, as his feet carried him down the street, he was running in precisely the wrong direction.

Comments

[tookthewheel]

Metal caught on bone as the man tried to pull away, highlighting the imperfection of his improvised weapon. It doesn't slow him down, he yanks it out with sheer brute force, the metal arm may be operating under inhibited strength by the force that brought him here but it is still a machine, not limited in the weakness of human muscle.

He let's Sirius grab his hand, lets him have the illusion that him might be able to catch his enemy off guard before the Soldier's human slams across to grab Sirius by the throat and hurl him down onto the hard surface of the road. with one of Sirius hands injured and the other occupied wresting with that metal wrist he calculates little opportunity for the move to fail.

[grimbiker]

It didn't fail at all. Sirius should have run, he realized as he hit the ground. The force of the impact knocked the breath from his lungs and his vision swam as he tried to regain it. That was made more difficult by the hand at his throat-- something that moved too deftly for the metal to be armor.

A metal arm. Nice transfiguration there-- or was it Muggle made? Could they do that? It was a mad thought to have now that he was about to die.

Sirius should have been scared. Instead he was angry. It shouldn't be like this.

He let go of the hand around his neck, knowing that it would be pointless to try and get it off, and instead he reached up to claw the Winter Soldier's face.

[tookthewheel]

He would give the target credit, he did better than many had in the Winter Soldier's career.

Fingers claw at his face and he shuts his eyes to avoid damage to them, dully registering the pain of having the vulnerable skin scratched raw. The hand around Sirius throat squeezes tight with as much force as he can conjure while the other brings the knife up between them. He's done this enough times that he doesn't need to see to know where to shove the blade into the target's heart. Exactly how many times he couldn't say, couldn't remember but he knows and that's all that matters in the culmination of this fight.

With a grunt of effort he aims and shoves the blade at the gap between Sirius ribs. It should be a quick death at least.

[grimbiker]

A quick death was better than what Sirius would thought he would have, in hiding, waiting for the Death Eaters to come. He should be grateful for that. He didn't have the time to be. He only had the time to think of his friends as the sharp pain burst through his chest and his heart stopped.

He wished everything had turned out different and that he knew they were safe. Then dying wouldn't be so bad. Unfortunately, it was.

There was a brief flare of fear at what, if anything, awaited him, but that look faded in his eyes as he went still.

[tookthewheel]

The clawing at his face stops.

Opening his eyes he finds as he expects; the man is dead, eyes open and unseeing. The Soldier lets go of the knife, leaving it where it had done its work. He would find something else to replace it.

For some reason he doesn't immediately leave, looking into the target's unseeing gaze for unneeded moments. The Soldier rubs his face with his human hand over the worsening beard and now the raw scratches, finding little beads of blood had welled up from them. It doesn't mean anything.

The sudden sound of a cannon jerks him out of his momentary lapse, too ambiguous to sound out its point of origin. In seconds he is up on his feet and leaving without a backward glance before any other hunters can come this way.