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

Entry tags:

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.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

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)

He’d asked the others to leave him there while he waited for Albert to come back, but part of him now wished he hadn't. Every little sound made him jump and strain his ears to hear if it was someone coming to finish him off or not. Fear gripped him and kept him cold, making him wish he still had that jacket, although he doubted it would help. This wasn’t that kind of cold. It was the cold that churned his stomach and kept static the norm in his mind and made him shiver with pure terror at one simple fact: he couldn’t see.

He was blind.

Pilots couldn’t be blind, you couldn’t fly if you couldn’t see and if he couldn’t fly he wasn’t free. But it was more than that, he couldn’t see which meant he couldn’t defend himself, couldn’t fight, couldn’t protect Albert if he needed him. His brain went as a roller coaster down the path of everything that being blind meant and sent him spiraling into that static that kept him from thinking too deeply lest he lose his mind or panic or worse. He couldn’t, he couldn’t lose it now, he had to keep it together. He just had to. So he waited.

Edited 2014-08-30 04:19 (UTC)

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.

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?"

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.

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.

"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.

It had been a busy day. Albert had gone on the usual aid round and even discovered the internet cafe, that had been closed thus far into the arena, was open. It was also crowded so he hadn't risked it, but it's definitely something to report.

Once he's in a position where he's not going to be overheard - the back corner of one of the theatres, defensible and empty thanks to the 'miracle of childbirth' video that's going on in the background - he sends a click to Jet's walkie talkie. Just a brief little noise, in case Jet's not somewhere he can talk right at the moment. He doesn't want to give his partner's location away by simply talking through the thing.

The little chirp that sounded from his backpack made Jet jump and his pulse quicken before he remembered what the sound was and felt a different emotion washing everything else away.

He reached for the backpack and pulled it towards him, carefully feeling for the zipper and then reaching in to find the walkie-talkie. All the while, his mind raced with what he should say. Albert was on the other line and while Jet longed to hear his voice, he found his mind blank on what to say. Did he tell him over the radio or wait for him to get there?

Wait was ultimately what he decided as he pressed the button to connect to the other device.

"I'm here." His voice was low and he took his finger off the button to take a deep breath or two, anything to get the shakiness out of his voice. The last thing he wanted was to make Albert panic.

That may be the last thing Jet wants to do, but the fact that he replies with such forced calm is already enough to key Albert into something not being right. Even so, if Jet's replying then it's not dire enough to panic. Maybe.

"What's wrong?" No use in beating around the bush about it, also it could be that any one of the terrible scenarios that Albert's mind provides could have happened and he's speaking to Jet as he's bleeding out somewhere...

Damnit, no, calm down. "Where are you? Are you safe?"

He's not doing the best impression of calm, though.

Dammit. He should have known, should have tried to sound more upbeat, he just didn't think he could. However, he knew Albert's mind had probably jumped right to Jet dying somewhere and he didn't want the German to go looking for him when he was right where he was supposed to be.

"I'm f--not dying. I'm safe. Back at base."

He couldn't say he was fine, that would be an outright lie. But he wasn't dying and he was safe, safe as he could be while relatively defenseless. But hearing Albert's voice even crackly and distorted as it is through the little radio, just sends a wave of something Jet identifies as weak through him. He tries to push it away, but it was like it latched onto that ever-present fear and wouldn't go.

"Just come back. If you're done, that is."

Edited 2014-08-31 17:33 (UTC)

"I'll be there in 5."

It's more like three considering he runs the whole way, arriving at their little stronghold short of breath and having tripped one of the alarm wires they'd rigged up out of fishing line and tin cups from the camping store. He doesn't worry much about it, it's more for when they're sleeping.

He takes the last few yards at a walk, as soon as he's in sight of Jet and can see he's not in immediate danger as far as he can tell.

A few feet more and he makes out the bandage across Jet's eyes, stained a vague red in spots where the cloth's absorbed blood from wounds that Albert can't see but make his stomach drop anyway.

"What happened?" He breathes the words softly, setting down his pack and kneeling in front of Jet to get a better look. Gingerly he brings one hand up under Jet's chin, turning his face a little to examine the damage. A little skin is peeling out from the edges of the bandage and his stomach flops again uncomfortably but this time in anger. Who had done this to his partner?

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)

"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)

The cans rattling got his attention but the sound of that familiar gait made him calm down again. Albert's tone made his chest ache with a need to fix it even though he knew he couldn't. As soon as Albert's hand was under his chin, Jet's were hooked into the German's shirt, partly just to know he was actually there and partly to keep him from going far.

"Ran into Nasir in the food court, he attacked me. He splashed hot oil in my eyes...I should've fought harder." The urge to apologize was there, but instead of the words it was there in his voice.

"Lost two of my weapons too." And he couldn't see, but he couldn't say it.

"Nasir," Albert says the name with a grim finality; if he runs into the man at any point after this, the gladiator's life is forfeit.

As loathe as he is to do it, Albert moves away just for a moment to retrieve a water bottle and the first aid kit. The patch job on Jet's eyes is better than it could be, but the bandage is stained and needs changed.

"Sometimes it can't be helped. We've learned this by now." He pours some water on the cloth and moves back over to Jet. "We need to flush the wound."

He needs to see how bad it is. What he's dealing with.

Jet lets him go with grim acceptance, his hands reaching up to undo the fastenings Bucky had put in place. The bandage falls away, though the last layer he has to peel back, pulling a flinch from him along with it. The burn revealed isn't pretty.

His eyes are white and clouded, the skin right around them is bright red and bleeding at points, as is a patch on his cheek, the skin around those areas is bright pink and like massive scars and the skin around the edges is peeling.

The moment the bandage is off, Jet's stomach drops. Every time he opens his eyes, he hopes his sight will be back, even just a little bit, but every time there's only darkness waiting for him. His voice is quiet, fearful.

"Al...I can't see."

"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.

"I know." What else does he say? The moment he saw Jet with the bandage around his eyes he'd thought that was the case. To see it confirmed is no easier, Jets eyes as white as his own, but a milky white, unnatural, and the skin around them looks painful and raw, as if it will tear from his face.

"Lay down, on your side. I'm going to run water over your eyes to clean them." It's all he can do. By the look of Jet's eyes, it's not going to help very much other that alleviate some of the pain his partner must be feeling. The small tube of ointment in the first aid kit should help as well, but there's only a little and he can't put it directly on his eyes, just the damaged skin around them.

"I'll watch out for you. Just try to relax." He can tell Jet's starting to panic and so he keeps his voice calm and even, pulling the blond gently towards him and trying to coax him into laying down.

Jet did as his fiance directed, laying down on his side beside the other man. He felt weak and helpless, there was comfort in Albert's promise to watch out for him, but his mind kept supplying various things he couldn't do. He couldn't see if there was an enemy approaching which meant he couldn't keep look out, he couldn't even see to make sure he didn't run into anything walking from one place to another; he was useless. He couldn't even see his partner's face.

A tightness nestled in his throat as that feeling of wanting to cry crept up on him, only he couldn't do that either, the oil had seared his tear ducts. A small shudder ran through him as he pushed the urge back.

"Albert...promise you're not gonna leave to go look for him." Not that he feared for Albert when it came to Nasir, he knew his German was stronger than that and he wouldn't make the same mistake Jet had.

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.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 3

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

Nasir--Kitchens

Bucky and Alex--Corner of the food court

Albert--Third floor

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject