You've lost your way [open]

[tookthewheel]

Who| MCU!Bucky Barnes and OTA
What| Bucky got into a dumb fight with his counterpart, broke a rollercoaster and is now moping around the arena trying to deal with that, his scattered mind alongside the dangers of the arena and other tributes.
Where| Various locations
When| During the 2nd Hell-rena
Warnings/Notes| Amnesia and potential references to trauma as standard with this guy. Also possible violence and body horror for the setting

Prompt A: Hell-rena at the Lake

Even at his full strength the fight with his mirror image has left him filthy, battered, bloody and aching.

The world turned to madness; it's falling apart, moving constantly round and round. He could see the buildings moving from the amusement park as he dragged himself at first and then stumbled up, making painfully slow progress away from the scene of the battle with dogged determination. The Soldier forces his protesting limbs to carry him just that little bit more to collapse by the lake and shifts his back up against a tree, grimacing as he does.

It's a poor choice to sit here, there's not much cover but he needs to stay still just for a short while and collect himself as much as he's currently capable of. If he can only have a few minutes to breath in this stifling heat and let his augmented body do what it was made to do maybe he'll survive a little longer in this hell. He uses what strength is left in him to tug off the torn hoody and give himself some relief from the temperature, quickly draping the cloth over his metal arm after so the shine of it won't give his presence immediately away to anyone nearby.

Prompt B: Hell arena, specify your own location/time

He's beginning to feel the very real effects of hunger setting in now. The Soldier's not been eating the food from the orchard (he'd been warned of its effects on his first day), only risking drinking the water sparingly because while he can push on without food for a while dehydration will kill him in days and the heat is absolute and oppressive, but if he doesn't find safe food soon he'll be in real trouble. Not just that, he's still has the lingering wounds from his fight with his other self to slow him down, the few days with his abilities in place have helped to heal the worst of it but not nearly all.

There was one thing he paid attention to in the aftermath of that fight though, his hair is now hacked short to the nape of his neck. It's still far from neat but it presents less of a vulnerability now.

Having lost his previous weapons he's taken the time to re-equip himself with newly scavenged ones. Glass shards and a rusted pair of garden shears with the blades broken apart to form two primitive long knives. He's hidden the weapons as best he can under his clothing as he walks through the arena, searching for any possibly chance to gain more supplies.



[[ooc: Feel free to reply in brackets if prose isn't your thing!]]

Comments

Prompt A (I'm so sorry for the length omg)

[metalicarus]

Albert was gone.

They'd run into Enjolras and Venus and whatever had been in that damn food had made him and his partner lash out against their allies. And then Enjolras had tossed himself and the German over the edge, leaving Jet to come back to his senses and take care of a dying Venus. He'd watched them all die and now he was alone.

Felicity was still out here somewhere, but he feared running into her again in case whatever that chemical had been wasn't out of his system yet. He'd received clean food and clean water from some sponsor, but he'd been very sparing with it, not wanting to run out and need to switch back to the arena's food.

Honestly, there was a part of him that wished he hadn't been sent rations at all. That contemplated going back to that cliff and joining Albert and Enjolras.

But his own sense of self-preservation kept him walking aimlessly.

With the arena back in it's hellish and decaying state, he tried to stay aware of his surroundings since the creatures here only got more vicious, but he didn't exactly bother trying to be stealthy. His cybernetics were back and with most of his body metal or synthetic, he didn't feel overly threatened.

Even without the fog, he might not have noticed the man leaning against a tree across the lake from him, it was only by virtue of his cybernetic eyes that alerted him to the man's presence that Jet knew he was there. He contemplated just leaving, Jet wasn't interested in hurting him and the guy was clearly in no shape to come after him, but something made him pause. Maybe it was the fact this was the very same lake where he and his partner had murdered that one guy during their aggression-filled haze. He felt badly for that and a part of him wondered if he could make up for it by helping this guy out a little.

But was that really smart? There weren't that many of them left at this point, chances were high that they'd end up needing to face each other eventually.

But he couldn't just walk by. Not now.

He moved slowly towards where the guy was sitting, his knife tucked into his pocket, Al's crowbar and Jet's metal pipe strapped to his back with the make-shift rope the German had made. He wasn't unarmed, but none of his weapons were in-hand either.

As an extra precaution, he stopped about ten feet away, close enough to talk, but far enough away to retreat if need be. Too bad he couldn't just fly away now, not with his jets still messed up.

"You look pretty banged up, there. I'd like to help. If you'll let me, anyway."

Prompt A;

[onedirectiony]

Arriving in the arena was different. Between the loss of his powers and then being at full strength all over again, Loki was a bit baffled by this entire situation. Why would anyone return strength to someone after so carefully removing it? For fun - he had to assume. He can appreciate and understand fun. So far, this arena had been fun for him. Interest, too. He had learned that there was a chance people he knew would be in here, as well.

For now, he walked along, hands in pockets. His pace was so casual considering the creatures, the houses disintegrating, and the inevitable death of people. He was, maybe, taking this a little too easily.

He made his way towards a body of water, then he noticed someone a little ways away. He made his way there, walking casually as usual. He watched him, and as he got close, he noticed the metal arm.

Familiar. He had a good idea as to who it might be.

"You know you're a sitting duck right here," he said. Loki shrugged his shoulders.

Prompt b

[arosewiththorns]

Rose hadn't been so lucky to be warned. How could she when her only ally had been someone who arrived when she did. Who had taken off days ago for some reason. Not that she cares, something in her mind hisses, drawn up from the depths, feeding on her hunger, her irritation. Fuck him. Fuck him, she didn't need him, and she would be better off without him. A friendly face mattered little.

The food of the orchard has had it's affect and god how her jaw aches. Rose isn't even fully aware that her skin has been peeling off, the only thing that's in her mind being that she feels power. She feels the mayjjks the Horrorterrors once gifted another version of her singing in her veins and for once she hasn't been resisting their song, using her powers recklessly. They're effective, sure, but they have their drawbacks.

It had started with the bile, think and black like ink and tasting like sea salt on her tongue. She should have recognised it for what it was, she would have had she been in her right mind. But hunger keeps her on edge, that vicious hunger and rage drives her and so her body warps before she can even realise, what little of her own skin left, a dark grey, colour leaching from her violet eyes until they're white and cold.

Rose moves through the arena with a single purpose, though what that is she couldn't tell you. She pays little attention to the other contestants, that is until they draw her attention and then. Well it's better for them when they don't, power crackling from her wands and rage in her heart.