thearena | [Closed]

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Who| Loki Laufeyson (MCU), Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff
What| Loki's death
Where| Inside the spaceport
When| Week Two
Warnings/Notes| Death, violence

For Loki, the Arena had started off badly and only gotten worse. Injured at the Cornucopia, he had stumbled around inside with some supplies but they were lost by the end of the first week and now he only had his wits and his strength. For all his bravado in theory, it seemed that his lack of conviction was showing through in practice and he'd barely injured anyone let alone killed any of the competition.

More wounds had been sustained in a string of fights and he was not in very good condition as he leaned against a wall, hoping for a short break to catch his breath and recuperate. Unluckily he had found nothing that could heal what were at this point mostly some sort of unknown internal injuries that were not healing as rapidly as he hoped - or seemingly healing at all.

He coughed, winced in pain then froze and listened. Hopefully nobody had heard that.

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Clint was lucky this Arena. Sure, it was his first, and he'd shown up after the bloodbath of the Cornucopia, but so far he hasn't been injured and he's found allies and his best friend. That's good, he can work with that, he's done more with far less after all. In any case, Clint finds himself stalking through the hallways, with Natasha at his side, looking for supplies.

Instead, there's a quick sound, the wheeze-cough of someone whose organs aren't all in one piece, and Clint freezes where he stands. Natasha's silent, and he makes a quick hand gesture, hold, before looking around for the source of the sound.

He's pretty sure most of the Avengers are accounted for, whether dead or alive, but you never know. Even if it's a stranger, if they're dying slow out here it'd be more merciful to put them out of their misery. Plus, they might have something useful on them. So, Clint looks Natasha's way, brow quirked, head tipping toward where the sound came from. She's been here longer, it's her call.

As far as battles to the death go, it's been deceptively smooth sailing so far. She got out of the cornucopia bloodbath unscathed and sporting a couple of deadly weapons to her name. It's been enough to carry her through so far. She's killed her fair share of those creatures crawling around the spaceport and come out with nothing more than dishevelled hair and blood-stained clothes.

She's better, with Clint at her side. Which should be a little bit contradictory because he's an emotional attachment, and she'd be affected if she lost him, but they're better together. More effective. SHIELD understood that, and it's why they've been partners for so long. When they fight, she knows how how to read the most minute signals to the point where they communicate seamlessly.

He looks at her for confirmation, and she thinks on it for a couple of seconds before nodding. Moving forward, phaser drawn just in case. Moving towards the source of the sound until she can see who it is.

Of all the people, she's honestly not expecting to find Loki. After all his grandstanding on the network, well.

Maybe it really was just all talk.

About to move onward, Loki looked up to see Natasha approaching him. Not wanting to seem as vulnerable as he was, he forced a grin and a nonchalant attitude as if unconcerned about her.

Eyeing the phaser, he spoke, "You would not shoot an unarmed personage, would you?"

He knew what the phaser did. He had had one himself earlier in the week.

They move together easily, silent on booted feet, not needing a word between them when they can read each other so easily. Clint's whole and uninjured, a little bloodstained by various kills but certainly no worse for wear. This too, is luck and skill both. He doesn't think about it as they turn the corner, but there's only so long he can go in a game like this without taking a hit.

But perhaps it is fate, that the being they meet is Loki.

Natasha spots him first. She doesn't speak, but Clint hears that loathsome voice drawl from the shadows and he sees red. It's easy to step forward, closing the distance with quick steps so that he might more closely protect Natasha's back. He can't risk losing a weapon here, not even if he used it to harm Loki of all people. But still, Clint goes flinty eyed and cold, taking in the vulnerability writ into the god's shoulders. He'd once told Natasha he'd sleep better if he'd put an arrow in Loki's eye socket, this hadn't been a lie.

"Done worse than that."

Quick as a whip, Clint's knife flies through the air towards Loki, seeking the taste of flesh and blood to whet its metal. If Loki's reflexes are as good as they once were, he might be able to catch the knife before it buries itself between ribs. If not, well, it probably isn't a killing blow just yet.

It's true. She's done worse than that. She's killed innocents before, and Loki is definitely no innocent. He gets no sympathy from Natasha, not after everything they experienced at the battle of New York.

Not after he'd almost taken Clint from her. Because at the time, she hadn't known if punching him would have worked. Had understood that there was a possibility that Loki's magic might have erased him forever. Just for putting her through that, Natasha figures she'd kill Loki a thousand times over.

She watches Clint throw the knife with a cold and impassive gaze. She hands him another knife without a word.

God knows he needs this.

He's quick but not quick enough. He makes a grab for the knife and his hand takes the brunt of the injury but it still finds its mark - just not as deeply as it could be. With a gasp, Loki pulls the knife out and he clutches it in his now bloodied hand, scowling at them both.

But then he forces a grins, holding up the knife. "Thank you for this."

And he advances on them menacingly.

It had been something of a fool move, maybe, to allow Loki a weapon all his own. But Clint is not scared of this godling, this would-be king. He burns with a fierce rage, tempered quietly by the warmth of Natasha at his side, but raging none the less. Natasha hands him another knife, wordless and approving of his actions like benediction.

It's all he needs.

Her knife warms in the palm of his hand, and Clint slinks forward as Loki advances. He doesn't need to protect Natasha, but Loki is intrinsically tied to the bright blue of the Tesseract, and the terrifying freedom that came with being undone. Clint will do all he can to protect Natasha from that, even if Loki is without his scepter and his once power.

"Don't worry, you won't keep it."

He smiles, and it's more a baring of teeth, brief and wolfish even as Clint circles Loki. The knife in his hand is more than enough to kill a god.

Natasha steps back. She would offer help, and she will if Clint ends up needing it. But this is something she knows he has to do. Something he was denied after the battle of New York for a variety of reasons. There's something terrifying, about losing all control of himself in the way that he had, back then.

Regaining that control is the first step towards putting it behind you. Natasha knows this. Clint won't feel better until he buries that knife into Loki's throat.

So she will let him, and watch. She'll shoot if she has to, but for now she'll let him have his catharsis.

( They never claimed to be healthy people ).

Loki understands vengeance - and whether it can be seen in their faces or not, he imagines it's what they would want here. But he isn't going down without a fight. He has his dignity, even if this would-be glorious arena had only become a string of dismal failures for him.

Noticing Natasha back away, he focuses on Clint - and he smirks. He remembers their time together; what he made him do. If he felt any guilt for that now, he doesn't show it. He has to put on some sort of confident face here, for purposes of the Game. He's still highly aware of that.

He's also aware of how deadly a knife may be, after recent events back home but he's not nervous. If this was the end, he's not going out with a whimper.

With a yell he springs at Clint now, knife up as if going to strike when close - and it leaves him way open and exposed for an attack.

Clint remembers and he hates, the anger lighting up his bone and flesh and blood. Vengeance is singing through his veins, and it's the desire to see that infuriating smug look slip that urges him forward. If he could, Clint would put Loki under like he was, whisper cruelties in the shell of his ear and guide his hands to defile all that Loki loved.

But he doesn't, and instead, there's the duck under that wide swing, knife a bright, brief, glimmer into the flesh of Loki's side. Clint's free hand catches at elbow, yanking Loki off balance. He's ever moving, keeping just out of range, moving so he doesn't get boxed in and pinned down. Loki's stronger than him, even weakened as he is. One strike of that knife could be devastating, and Clint has no plan for dying here.

So he doesn't make a sound, face blanked but for the banked anger in the lines of his mouth and eyes. His booted feet are impossibly silent, even as he makes sure to keep Loki within eyesight.

Loki slashes toward him but misses, Clint's blade driving into his side and indeed he briefly wavers but manages to stay on his feet. Perhaps even more infuriatingly he chuckles as if that was a mere setback, only a scratch. But he's feeling the pain of it. All over, from the fortnight of built-up injuries.

"Is that all you have? You wish to hurt me, do you not?" He taunts, then face darkening, he frowns and his voice sounds almost like an order. Demanding. "Then do it!"

And he launches toward Clint again, all aggression and very little defence. He feels as if this was the time to end things, one way or the other.

Well, maybe it hadn't been a play. Clint hadn't taken that open stance as involuntary, but if Loki's this sloppy, if he's this wounded already -- well. Clint doesn't take orders from would be gods, especially not like this. But he moves, knocks Loki's arm out of the way, hooks one foot around Loki's to knock him off guard.

Natasha shifts closer in the background, ready and waiting should Clint need her, but instead, he grabs a fistful of dirty hair and yanks Loki's head back, throat bared. The cold gleam of metal presses against skin, and Clint leans in close to growl, "As you wish".

A glint of silver, and Clint slits Loki's throat with one unforgiving strike. He doesn't stay holding him up, rather, Clint drops Loki and steps back, in line with Natasha.

Loki collapses to his knees, a hand going to his throat as if to stem the flow of blood but it is gushing too much and too quickly. He makes a choking sound, half turns as if he's trying to rise but instead crumples to the ground and soon lays still in a spreading pool of blood.

It might be cathartic for Clint, but it's probably not normal or well-adjusted or anything. Not that Nat really minds. She knows that Loki isn't the enemy here, as strange as that is for her to believe. Loki's just as powerless as they are. And the way he crumples after having his throat slit is proof of that, proof that he's fallible whether he wants to admit it or not.

Clint steps back in line with her and they watch him die. She squeezes his shoulder, just once. He needed this, and she's glad he got the chance.

It's a bit of a disappointment, really. Loki gave in easy, and now he lays in a pool of his own blood, fingertips futilely trying to stem the bleeding. Clint watches intently; gaze catching every wheezing, gurgling breath, every gush of blood with each beat of his heart. He'd made certain to cut deep enough, clinically enough, and with nobody here to help there's no way Loki can survive it.

So Clint stays back, watching Loki die and it's, not enough but it never is. He leans into the hand on his shoulder, brief, and wipes blood off on the leg of his suit as Loki's dying sounds fade. Gently, Clint touches his fingertips to the crook of Natasha's elbow, nodding off towards the way they came.

It's time to move.

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oh my god I FORGOT TO ADD A TRACKING NOTIF TO THIS I'M SO SORRY

<3

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