clint "actual trainwreck" barton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cognitived) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2015-03-22 10:43 pm
cognitived) wrote in thearena2015-03-22 10:43 pm
Entry tags:
closed;
WHO| Clint Barton & Tony Stark
WHAT| Clint's luck with the Cornucopia runs out, Tony helps.
WHEN| Week 6
WHERE| At the Cornucopia
WARNINGS| Language, violence, eventual death.
Midway through the week, Clint manages to lose sight of Tony completely. This wouldn't be such a problem if the others were here, or if they were back home with Tony's suit backing him up. But here in the Arena, with Yetis and earthquakes and fire, Clint's feeling on edge. The countdown has started, he's sure, and there can't be that many people left in this damn game, sooner or later they're going to be flushed out from their hidey-holes and tossed into one last vicious gamut. He'd bet on it.
This doesn't mean he's not pissed off when it happens.
The first mutt catches him by surprise, sinuous, snarling, all feline grace and horror twisted up in a woman's body. It's terrible all on it's own -- but Clint knows the way she moves, knows that hair, the curve of her face beneath the augmentation. He can't bear to name her, and he's running out of arrows. If she's not aiming to hurt him, he won't waste them. Instead, he slips around, runs, hears the footfalls of someone chasing and doesn't look. More footsteps, more noise, clicking teeth and snarls, shrieks in various -- familiar -- voices that he tries to shut out.
He doesn't have enough arrows for them all, not now.
Eventually, Clint realizes he's being herded towards the Cornucopia, and the rich scent of food lingers in the air, has his belly rumbling loudly. He slides to a stop, lingers just behind the treeline, watching, waiting, but the mutts at his back are louder now, screaming, screaming, reaching out and he --
-- books it to the weapons instead, not trusting the food to not be poisoned. With a new spear in hand, he slinks back to the treeline, climbs up and waits, watches. Eventually, when he's seen people come close and devour food and hasn't heard a canon, he decides it's okay. Only, there's now more and more mutts ringing the area, some hissing up at him, climbing into the trees to drag him down. Tony's there somewhere, he'd seen him off at the very edge earlier, and if he can get to him, they've a better chance. Even if this is the end.
So Clint crawls down carefully, shoves a spear straight through the chest of a reptilian looking mutt who'd gotten too high up for his comfort, doesn't look at the features. His luck runs out though, and Clint curses as the spear gets caught on bone, snapping in half as he yanks it back. The mutt writhes, wailing in agony as it dies, and suddenly he's the target of far too many. A clawed hand wraps around Clint's leg, nails piercing through cloth to sink into flesh, and yanks him from the tree. He goes crashing dazedly to the ground, leg still caught, and instinctively gropes for one of his arrows, stabs it into a slitted eye. Shoves to his feet and runs into the clearing.
It's more of a limp, though, snarling mutts after him once more.
WHAT| Clint's luck with the Cornucopia runs out, Tony helps.
WHEN| Week 6
WHERE| At the Cornucopia
WARNINGS| Language, violence, eventual death.
Midway through the week, Clint manages to lose sight of Tony completely. This wouldn't be such a problem if the others were here, or if they were back home with Tony's suit backing him up. But here in the Arena, with Yetis and earthquakes and fire, Clint's feeling on edge. The countdown has started, he's sure, and there can't be that many people left in this damn game, sooner or later they're going to be flushed out from their hidey-holes and tossed into one last vicious gamut. He'd bet on it.
This doesn't mean he's not pissed off when it happens.
The first mutt catches him by surprise, sinuous, snarling, all feline grace and horror twisted up in a woman's body. It's terrible all on it's own -- but Clint knows the way she moves, knows that hair, the curve of her face beneath the augmentation. He can't bear to name her, and he's running out of arrows. If she's not aiming to hurt him, he won't waste them. Instead, he slips around, runs, hears the footfalls of someone chasing and doesn't look. More footsteps, more noise, clicking teeth and snarls, shrieks in various -- familiar -- voices that he tries to shut out.
He doesn't have enough arrows for them all, not now.
Eventually, Clint realizes he's being herded towards the Cornucopia, and the rich scent of food lingers in the air, has his belly rumbling loudly. He slides to a stop, lingers just behind the treeline, watching, waiting, but the mutts at his back are louder now, screaming, screaming, reaching out and he --
-- books it to the weapons instead, not trusting the food to not be poisoned. With a new spear in hand, he slinks back to the treeline, climbs up and waits, watches. Eventually, when he's seen people come close and devour food and hasn't heard a canon, he decides it's okay. Only, there's now more and more mutts ringing the area, some hissing up at him, climbing into the trees to drag him down. Tony's there somewhere, he'd seen him off at the very edge earlier, and if he can get to him, they've a better chance. Even if this is the end.
So Clint crawls down carefully, shoves a spear straight through the chest of a reptilian looking mutt who'd gotten too high up for his comfort, doesn't look at the features. His luck runs out though, and Clint curses as the spear gets caught on bone, snapping in half as he yanks it back. The mutt writhes, wailing in agony as it dies, and suddenly he's the target of far too many. A clawed hand wraps around Clint's leg, nails piercing through cloth to sink into flesh, and yanks him from the tree. He goes crashing dazedly to the ground, leg still caught, and instinctively gropes for one of his arrows, stabs it into a slitted eye. Shoves to his feet and runs into the clearing.
It's more of a limp, though, snarling mutts after him once more.