Arena 12 - The Spaceport

[etcircenses]

As usual the Tributes are woken up early for the start of the arena, leaving the Tribute Centre before dawn. A few hours ride in a hovercraft delivers them to their destination where their excited prep teams will outfit them in skintight suits that are colour coordinated by District (D1 is White, D2 is Red, D3 is Orange, D4 is Aqua, D5 is Purple, D6 is Pink, D7 is Light Green, D8 is Blue, D9 is Yellow, D10 is Dark Green, D11 is Lavender, and D12 is Black) over which they will be put into what is instantly identifiable as a spacesuit, complete with oxygen tank and helmet before being loaded into the tubes.

They rise up into what appears to be outer space and immediately upon emerging from the tubes Tributes will find themselves floating upwards with a length of rope the only thing holding them to their podiums. The countdown crackles out from speakers built into each Tributes helmet.

20

19

18…

The Cornucopia sits in the middle of a dusty crater with buildings surrounding it, made up of a number of chained down cases and cubes in limited numbers. Cubes which sharp-eyed Tributes will note look like they fit into the slots beside the doors that lead into the spaceport.

8

7

6…

The mirrored visors of the uniformly white spacesuits make it impossible to tell friend from foe. Tributes fighting for goods will have to risk harming their friends but the alternative, floating off into space or suffocating when their oxygen runs out, leaves them little choice.

3

2

1…

The gong rings out and the countdown’s voice announces, “the Arena is now open” before the line goes dead. The Games have begun.

Comments

[cognitived]

Clint can't say he made his way on through to the science labs all that quickly, and by the time he was shoved into the Arena, people had already dug in. He doesn't know how many people are here, how many are armed and hunting, and it makes settles beneath his skin like a slow creeping anxiety. He's lived and worked through hard conditions, but this is -- this is like nothing he ever dealt with before. So he moves, quick and carefully as he can.

Seeing Steve isn't anything he expected either. Clint's not quite sure what his expression does, because certainly he's relieved at finding a familiar face in an unfamiliar place, but this isn't somewhere he'd like to meet up again. Something in the cast of Steve's face says the same.

Still, Clint makes his way closer, wary and tense even if he pretends otherwise. His mouth curves in a sardonic little grin, fading fast.

"Got lost on the way over."

[aboveangrybees]

Steve mouth quirks in a wry way at the reply, something that doesn't stick on his features. An expression, there and gone, though he doesn't look any less friendly. He's worked with Clint on a number of occasion, even trained with him and Natasha, he might not know him well, but he likes him, trusts his judgement.

"Not the best place to find yourself," there's a lightly dry humor to his tone. He knows no one mentioned Clint before the arena started, so best guess is he got shoved straight into the fray, with the same bullshit amount of information Bucky and the rest usually get when that happens. It's such poor sportsmanship, not to say he doesn't get the reasoning the Capitol does what they do, for entertainment, but he doesn't agree with it and can't stand how they toy with people's lives like this.

"I take it, they didn't tell you much more past this being a death match, right?"

[cognitived]

Given Clint had only spent a handful of hours in Steve's presence, and most of those when he'd been decked out in full Captain America regalia and mask to boot, the little wry lilt to his mouth is odd. Welcome, almost, because the person Captain America had become in modern culture, and the man Coulson had near worshiped, were never someone Clint could see himself following. So called paragons and pinnacles of humanity were all well and good, but Clint was just an ex-carnie, a former soldier and a current assassin and spy.

Not quite what one would pick for Captain America's teammate.

Still, they guy's just as human as the rest of them, and he'd let Clint join the battle without a single objection. He can't be all that bad. So Clint listens and nods, not quite wincing. But there's a harshness writ in the lines of Clint's mouth, deep set in the sharpness of his gaze.

"Just about." Wry, and convinced that this situation is complete bullshit. "You got more intel for me, Rogers?"

[aboveangrybees]

"You could say that," there's a lot to tell and who knows how long to tell it. At least he knows Barton is quick to think on his feet, so the essentials for now, small things as they go along.

"First thing you should know, we don't actually die and stay dead here. They revive us after we die, keep us around until the next arena," he hadn't said that to Bucky when he first arrived and regretted it, he won't make that mistake again. "This is entertainment for the people watching, like gladiatorial combat."

"And this'll be my fourth," he hopes that speaks of how powerful of a foe they're up against, because he can't say much more on camera like they are. Yet, he also is starting to wonder if time shenanigans are afoot again and when Clint came from. The longer they talk, the more Steve notices the way the man seems standoffish. At first he thought it more because of the situation that had him being cautious, but there seems a disconnect, something that speaks of a lack of familiarity.

[cognitived]

Immediately, Clint's focused, statue-still and intent. It's probably a bit unnerving to have his laser sharp gaze not moving an inch from meeting Steve's eyes, but this place has him on edge and Clint wants as much information as he can. It is, however, probably also leading more credence to Steve's idea that there's a little bit of time shenanigans at work here. Clint's already learned from Natasha that he's missing time and memory, or rather, that he's taken from earlier than she is. But he doesn't know who else knew him, doesn't know what else he's missed.

He's not thinking about that now. Not when there's an unknown amount of enemies out there seeking his blood, and an even greater amount of people watching this bloodbath. It eats at him, and he hasn't been here all that long.

"Revive us?" That's -- that's more than he expected. "How long have you been here?"

How long are they going to stay here?

[aboveangrybees]

Steve watches Clint for a long moment, keeping an eye on the man's reactions, how the man is on edge, where and how that gaze seems to land. He's catching on to more things that seem off, makes him more certain of the time differences.

"Going on eight months now, Thor and Stark arrived with me, a while after Banner came, later still Natasha and a friend of ours showed up," maybe it speaks something to Barton that he intentionally uses Natasha's first name and not surname like the others (Thor excluded). But he's also dropping hints he's sure Barton will pick up, information between information.

Something strikes him as needing mentioned, "Loki's here as well," two of them. "If this were a typical arena, I'd tell you he's mostly powerless like everyone else, even playing field, but this one's different. Everyone's at full strength, so watch who you bump into."

[cognitived]

It's not hard, really, to pick up on the hints penciled in between the lines. Clint's been a spy for decades, he knows the tricks of the trade, knows how to get his information even if its not forthcoming. To hear the familiar, easy weight of Natasha's name upon Steve's tongue is a surprise.

His brow furrows, mouth parting to ask a question but--Loki.

Clint goes cold, fury a cold-banked fire in the pit of his belly, licking up each rung of vertebra, each arch of rib. It had abated, somewhat, in the months after Manhattan. Clint couldn't reach Loki, couldn't settle the debt, an eye for an eye. Should he come across him here, Clint will kill him. There's no denying this a second time, even if Loki would seemingly be revived.

It was a pause, mere seconds long, and Clint nods. This was a warning from a man he'd followed into battle, Clint will take it into consideration. It's the least he can do. Instead, he frowns.

"They can take the serum from you?"

[aboveangrybees]

"Not really, they seem to suppress parts of it - healing, senses - but for the most part, they leave it alone. Probably no fun watching a medical disaster die on the first day of every arena," Steve gives a less than humored smile, looking down as hie eyebrows furrow in a way that perfectly accompanies the expression.

It's not the first time it's crossed his mind, but now with more time under his belt, he can really imagine what it would have been like if they had taken away the serum. If he was that shrimp of a guy again - how he fast he would die in the arena. Yeah, he would last more than a day, but he can't imagine lasting long.

In a way, Steve once considered the serum a power, before waking up in the future, no, then me met people with real powers. Thor, Banner, Loki, those are powers. No, Steve seems normal in comparison, even if he's fully aware that he's not. He knows that the serum is technically a power in it's own right, but after seeing what people can do here? It seems so small in comparison to wielding ice or telepathy.

He looks up again, his expression more neutral again, "Run into anyone else yet?"

[cognitived]

That's -- Clint's more relieved than ever that he's just a regular guy, and all his skills are his own. He'd worked hard to be as good as he is, to have that snatched away somehow, is almost unfathomable. It'd be like that time he'd injured his arm so badly on a mission he thought he'd never shoot again. So yeah, Clint can understand in some way just how having the serum suppressed would affect Steve.

He resettles, in the quiet following Steve's words, watching the way he moves, the expressions writ into the lines of his face. Clint's arms cross, hip cocked as he shifts his weight.

"Not from the team, no."