thearena | To be blind is not miserable; to not be able to bare blindness, that is miserable

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To be blind is not miserable; to not be able to bare blindness, that is miserable

Who| Jet, Nasir, Bucky (MCU), Alex Murphy and Albert
What| Jet and Nasir get into a fght resulting in hot oil to the eyes and blindness, Bucky and Alex help
Where| In the food court, eventually ending on the third floor
When| Late into the second week
Warnings/Notes| There will be eye-damage and burns in this log

For an arena, things had been going pretty smoothly, at least on their end. There's been a couple minor cuts and scrapes and bruises, but that was hardly concerning considering they were supposed to be fighting for their lives. They would have to eventually, he was sure of it, but if they could put it off as long as possible, that would be better.

This morning, however, they needed to restock their supplies, both food and other things. This time it was Jet to suggest they split up. Since it didn't seem like that big of a deal beyond that first night, he figured it was just smarter to get the errands done faster to keep them out of danger. Albert had been the one to get the food the last few times, so Jet offered to do it this time instead.

It was early enough, he doubted he'd run into very many people, especially any that wanted to cause trouble.

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It was a little earlier than when the Avoxes usually came around to stock for lunch, but he figured he’d just wait around a while, grab what they needed the minute it was put out and then head back. However, sitting around in the open seemed like a pretty bad idea, so he decided to explore the back rooms some since he hadn’t gotten a chance to yet.

There wasn’t much exciting to find except some popcorn which he passed up for how salty it was. Then he found the room with the deep fryer. It was noticeable because it was easily the warmest room in an already warm place; barely a minute in there and Jet re-positioned his stuff so he could take off the jacket he’d snagged earlier and lay it on a counter.

It was a little surprising to find the fryer was still on, but he passed it off and generally ignored it as he looked through some of the cabinets and drawers in the room.

Nasir was of a similar mind. He had come early, waiting for food, and would rather stay out of the open. Curiosity had brought him to the back and now it brought him to Jet.

He was in poor shape for a fight. His bruises from his interrogations had mostly faded, but there were fresh ones from an encounter with Sif. He looked rather sorry and could be brushed off as not a threat were it not for the knives in his hands and the way his gaze turned cold when he saw Jet. He remembered him from his first day here. The encounter had not been favorable, in his mind, but even if it had been better it would not have mattered.

The food court should have been a safe zone. Nasir did not consider it as such and he threw himself at Jet, jabbing his knife forward to stab his neck.

Hearing someone coming closer was the only warning he had before he caught sight of Nasir and his knives. Jet's knife was in his pocket, but in his hand was the hockey stick turned weapon with the ice skating blades attached to one end.

He uses the stick to knock away Nasir's arm and took several steps back, brandishing the stick with anger clear in his expression.

"What the hell's your problem? I'm lookin' to fight you, so back off."

He remembered Nasir, he thought the guy was a total ass, but he also knew he meant something to Fee, so Jet wasn't keen on killing him.

"We stand in the arena. I need no problem." Nasir could not understand why so many were hesitant to fight for their survival until they were pressed.

The stick gave him pause. That was a weapon he would rather have than these knives. Something that would give him a longer reach like the spear he favored. After Jet was dead, he would claim it.

He lunged forward again, this time aiming for Jet's stomach while his other knife curved around to slice at the arm holding the hockey stick. He knew where it would go to bat away the other knife and tried to strike it there.

Jet had to admit, there was a point there. They were supposed to fight to the death, but he couldn't understand those who were so eager to play right into the Capitol's plans.

"So you're gonna play the Capitol's sheep. Thought there was more to you than that--"

the end of his sentence was more of a grunt as he swung the stick around to deflect the aim to his gut, but winced as the other blade sliced clean through his skin. His grip faltered, but didn't give and he swung the weapon around in an attempt to slice open Nasir's middle--or at the very least keep him away. It whistled as it cut through the air and Jet used the momentum to snatch up one of his own knives as he stepped back again.

The knife was thrown with precision, aimed to lodge itself in one of the other man's leg.

He didn't want to kill someone Fee cared about, but there was no way he wasn't going to fight for his own life; he wasn't going to die when Albert had no clue where he was.

Nasir jumped back, narrowly missing being eviscerated by the hockey stick's blades. It actually sliced the outer layer of his skin open and some blood trickled from his stomach. He didn't have time to worry about that before he saw Jet's hand come back to throw a knife at him. He pushed himself to the side to avoid it. The knife skittered across the floor. As long as he kept himself between it and Jet, that was one less weapon to worry about.

He didn't understand the sheep reference though. Some sayings didn't translate well. But he understood the sentiment behind it. "I made promise. I will not die." He gave no more elaboration than that.

One of his knives came up to scrape across the top of the hockey stick, hoping to dismantle whatever held the blades to the stick.

"Yeah? Well so did I, dipstick, so tough." It was an unspoken promise, a promise not to die as long as Albert wasn't there to be with him. He wasn't going to break it.

The knife cut the rope keeping the blades at the top of the stick, but the clip holding them together was metal, causing the blades to slip down the stick uselessly. Jet threw the stick at Nasir, using the distraction to make for the door, though he wasn't as in big a hurry now that he didn't feel cornered.

He grabbed the jacket and turned back towards the man. "I ain't hasslin' with you, Nasir, so pack it in." His tension was high and emotions run thin, leaving an old vocabulary to fall back on, but he hardly noticed.

Once again, Nasir had no idea what that meant.

But the distraction succeeded. Nasir dropped one of his knives and caught the stick in his hand. With someone of his stature, a greater reach was what he needed and Jet had generously provided.

Jet might have got past him but he was still close. Nasir's answer to-- whatever it was Jet was saying-- was to swing his stick hard, aiming it at Jet's knee.

Edited 2014-09-01 21:56 (UTC)

So he wasn't just going to let Jet leave. He shouldn't be surprised by that. Jet moved back, but it threw his balance and made him stumble back into the wall. He was good at recovering, though, so he used his new position to his own advantage.

In a flutter of navy blue, the jacket got tossed, aimed for Nasir's face to distract him; he would either be hit by it or would need to deflect it, affording Jet a chance to get himself out of the situation. At least, that was the plan.

As soon as the jacket was out of his hand, he pushed against the wall and charged after it, hunkering down low enough as he got close to shove his shoulder into Nasir's chest; his aim to send the other man into the wall behind him and hopefully stun him if not knock him out.

The other thing against the wall was the fryer, however, and the memory of those nasty burns on Venus' arms and Alex's face came back to him. He might not like the guy, but he wasn't going to do that to him. He altered his angle, taking some of the power from his assault.

Wow, I'm sorry I thought I replied to this

calledmenasir - 2014-09-22 22:19 (UTC) - Expand

His face was on fire. It was the oil, he knew it was the oil, but it felt like flames had erupted on his skin and even after he’d tried to pour some of his water on his face, it still burned and shot searing pain through his system.

Nasir must have left because no one seemed to follow the blond as he had staggered out of the kitchens and into the food court. He didn't know where he was, who might be around or what he should do; all he knew was the pain and the sound of his own breath ragged in his ears as he curled in on himself in a corner.

He’d tried opening his eyes, but it had only gotten more of the oil in them and caused more pain, forcing static into his brain in an attempt to cope. If he could rip his own skin off to stop the pain, he would. Instead, he lay helplessly on the tile, arm bleeding, eyes clouded white with the skin around them bubbling, wishing it would end or something would kill him to end it. There in the partly shadowed corner of the food court, Jet half-hid behind his backpack while he tried to pull himself back together.

Edited 2014-08-30 04:16 (UTC)

Footsteps, light and virtually undetectable approach where Jet lies.

Bucky had come to take advantage of the daily offering of food to the tributes when he finds the man curled up and suffering in the corner. At a distance the assassin doesn't recognise him, understandable with the disfigurement he's suffered, and he has a knife out and ready, possibly to finish this tribute off -- or in defence against whoever hurt him if they were still nearby.

The carbine strapped to his back remains in place for now.

He stops a few feet away and crouches, making himself less of an obvious target as he examines the wounded man, finally cautiously asking. "Jet?"

That sixth sense that always woke him up whenever someone was in the same room as him kicked in now even though he hadn't heard anyone approach and couldn't see them. He went as still as he could manage and kept quiet to try and not attract attention--unaware he'd been spotted anyway.

When he hears his name, the tension in him caused him to flinch, but the voice came back to him and registered as familiar, a safe kind of familiar.

The blond shakily pushed himself to his knees and turned his face where he thought the other man was, eyes momentarily opening on instinct to show clouded white where there was supposed to be bright blue. He quickly closed them again. "Bucky? It's you, right? I thought it might be--Is it just you?"

His voice was low and shaky, the effort to keep it level clear, but he was also trying not to seem as scared as he felt in front of his friend.

"Yes. Just me." Bucky comes closer after ascertaining there was no immediate threat nearby but keeping his knife ready just in case. He goes down into a crouch in front of Jet, the distance between them reduced to a mere foot. "What happened?"

He was blinded, impossible to miss when Jet opened them, the assassin traces his gaze over his ally's? face. The burns are very bad, he is no expert in medical matters, only basic first aid but he can tell that easily.

Edited 2014-08-31 20:52 (UTC)

"Got in a fight. He threw oil in my face." Jet reached up to his face as though to try and wipe the oil away, but it had cooled already and the touch of his own hands made him flinch.

"Bucky...I need your help. Please. It still burns."

There had to be something. Belatedly, his brain supplied what was in his backpack and the blond reached for it.

"There's a first aid kit. Maybe...it's got something to fix my eyes." There had to be, he couldn't be blind, he just couldn't.

Bucky frowned at the request.

Blindness in the arena was a deadly handicap, not to mention the burns. A simpler solution to Jet's issue would be to kill him clean, let him ressurrect and wake up whole. He had no hope of winning like this. It's the Soldier part of him that smells an easy kill and a step closer to the goal right in front of him.

But it's Bucky who remembers how Jet could have done the same to him before and didn't. He did for Bucky what he is requesting right now. He helped.

"Fix?" he repeats, reaching for the bag and rummaging through for the first aid kit as instructed. He finds the kit and opens it, eyes looking over the contents considerately before pulling out the packet of antiseptic wipes. "Not in here."

With the Capitol's technology, maybe, on the outside. All he can think to do is clean the wound and bandage Jet's eyes.

Jet's expression sours briefly before he shoves it back down, burying it under a wave of 'not now.'

"Just do what you can."

He's silent again, letting Bucky work and only flinching when he isn't expecting contact or when something seriously hurts. Which, admittedly, was most of his face right now.

"Thanks...for doing this. I know you're probably thinkin' it'd be kinder to kill me and, trust me, I almost wish you would. But I can't, not yet." Maybe it sounded stupid, but the part he really wanted Bucky to get out of it was the gratitude.

"Hm." Bucky does his best with antiseptic wipes to clean off the worst of the oil on Jet's face. It takes time but at least he manages to clear the area around the blonde's eyes before dropping the wipes in favour of picking out pads and a roll of bandages next.

At that he shakes his head, then remembers Jet can't see the motion.

"You helped me when you could have killed me before." he tells him, positioning the pads over Jet's eyes and tugging his head forwards to start winding the bandage around them. Bucky knows not to do it too tightly.

Nasir--Kitchens

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Bucky and Alex--Corner of the food court

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Albert--Third floor

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