Notes: And here we are at the end of the districts section of the victory tour. And of course, we have to shake things up a bit before we get to the Capitol. That's just the way we roll, yo. :P
Chapter 28: "Itsy Bitsy Spider"
January 11
District Two
Coulson brought the discussion to Skye for once, and when he did sit down next to her, it was with a little smirk that he produced a cup of hot cocoa for her. "In exchange for not ogling anyone before the briefing."
"Not for lack of trying," she said, though she took the cocoa all the same with a smirk to match his.
"You know that's … that's just never gonna happen, right?"
"There is nothing wrong with looking, Coulson. Absolutely nothing wrong with it," Skye said serenely over the top of her cocoa.
"Just making sure you know. We don't really get a chance to interact with them," he clarified. "So — what does it look like in Two? More psychos and cruel people?"
"Pretty much," Skye agreed. "There's one girl named Sarah that I'm pretty sure could eat all of last year's Careers for breakfast."
"You say that like that would be an achievement. They were, for the most part, less than stellar. Plenty of potential but ..."
"No kidding." Skye shook her head and made a little noise through her teeth before she had to add, "Though Thor wasn't bad to look at," just to watch Coulson's expression. He had brought it up, after all.
He didn't bother to pretend he wasn't smirking at that one. "Even the women that didn't like the look of him wanted to know his hair care secrets."
Skye snorted into her cup and shook her head. "Yeah, well, the guys we've got aren't exactly going to win any beauty contests this year — not if we're going with the evil psychos anyway." She pushed the files his way. "Beck has some serious talent with manipulation and misdirection. I've got notes from his official trainers that he'd do well with camouflage as well. He seems tactical, which we might need to balance, you know, all the unstable psychos. And then there's this Lilith chick who, I kid you not, creeped me out from paragraph one of her file."
"Sounds promising," Coulson said with a smirk.
"No kidding." Skye leaned back and bit her lip as she looked over the last few names. "There's a few names if we don't want psychos, though. Kid named Cassidy has a flair for adventure."
"Another Cassidy?" Coulson frowned.
"Spelled differently, and not a psycho," she explained.
"That's a relief. What's the story on this one?"
"He's bounced around different fighting groups, mostly just seems to be in it for the fun," she said. "Which might be good if this year's group is too… overly serious."
"That's actually a really good idea. We haven't had a real fighter with experience rather than training in the possibilities this year."
She nodded. "Yeah, I think I'd put him at the top of my list. Not everyone has to be a super serious killer or an Academy graduate, right?" She grinned Coulson's way as she slipped him the last file. "And here's the last name. Just… as a backup," she said quickly. "She's a gorgeous model, good family, she'll look really good on camera before one of our creepy ladies volunteers to kill people."
"That … that could be an interesting choice next to the red-headed fighter," Coulson said, picking up her file.
"We'll suggest they do ladies first just so they don't clash," Skye said, then made a face. "Oh my gosh, I've been spending too much time around the victors' stylist team."
"They usually run that anyhow," he said before he tossed it to the side. "And what are you doing with the stylists, outside of hoping to sneak another peek?"
"I can't help it that I'm a people person, Coulson. I really can't," she said with a shrug and an easy smile.
"Particularly when that people-person streak makes it easier to ogle half naked new victors?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
She shrugged with her palms upturned and a clear look of innocence that he didn't buy for a second. "It's possible."
"And how effective has this strategy been working for you?" He crossed his arms with a little smirk on his face, entertained by her antics — not that he'd show it fully.
"Well, I can tell you the newest victor is more jacked than Peter Quill if that's what you're asking," she replied with a wide and wicked grin.
Coulson let out a little chuckle. "I think he's more jacked than most of them, to be honest. Just in a little shorter package."
"I'm telling you. James Proudstar. Future victor. Imagine it," Skye said with a little giggle, sweeping out her hands as if she was laying out a movie reel. "Seven is a beautiful place, Coulson."
"I thought we took him off the list?" Coulson teased. "You know. In part to keep the Career districts from feeling too threatened by a long string of Sevens."
"Well, we took him off the list because we didn't want to tick off the tribe, but that was just the official reason," Skye said, laughing at the fact that she'd gotten her boss in on the jokes now.
"Just how much of your decision making process has been run past May and Simmons?" he asked with a little smile. "And don't try to act like you haven't."
"If you don't have at least five messages in your inbox when you get back to your seat about some of these picks, then those two have failed me utterly," she said with a laugh, and Coulson had to shake his head at her. The team certainly had gotten more interesting since she'd joined it.
Jubilee was getting more and more fussy as the tour came to a close, and Logan had finally gotten to the point that he just let her do what she felt like she needed to so he didn't have to listen to her trying to be threatening.
Not that it stopped her. "So help me, I will make you shine if you just … stop being so stubborn for five minutes," Jubilee was muttering under her breath.
"You sound like an angry kitten," Logan replied, watching the goings on over her shoulder just to irritate her. "All fluff and hisses."
She stopped to glare at him and stick a finger in his face. "If that's your code for saying I'm adorable, then yes. Yes I am."
He raised an eyebrow her way before she immediately started to push on him to get him moving. Although the set list had been permanently changed by now, it was still a rush job if nothing else because those involved were already really tired of the routine and the last couple districts really didn't hold any interest for the team, since there was no connection. Not really.
When they got out onto the stage, the review was already running, and he narrowed his eyes a bit on seeing scenes from Natasha's pre-Games interviews. The fake bubbly smile, the whole perfect-for-television thing just had him rolling his eyes again.
He didn't miss the fact that there was no one for her little family platform, though, and that had him wondering just for a moment what the hell had the little widow acting the way she had been. But — as the tribute continued, he just frowned a bit deeper when he realized that their fight was the only one that she'd really, truly invested herself into. The rest of it played out like a bad horror movie. The romance — or near miss romance — with the archer was the only thing out of that mess that had him smirking to himself in a very self satisfied 'ha! I knew it' way.
But Clint's story… he couldn't help but feel bad for the guy when he saw how one-sided that little affair had been, even if he didn't want to think about him as a sympathetic type. And even that bit of reluctance to give a damn was completely gone when he saw all the footage that he'd missed of Clint taking care of Kate and watching out for her. Letting her use his bow freely as they hunted and travelled together.
He let out a sigh and turned to Clint's platform, where his near-doppleganger brother stood. The guy looked pissed more than anything else, but it was more indiscriminate anger, just mad at the Games, at Logan, at his brother for volunteering — just everything. It was a major juxtaposition of the two brothers — Clint laughing at Kate's jokes on the screen above his scowling big brother.
But there wasn't a damn thing he could say to the guy, though he knew he didn't have to anyhow. He'd been listening to the talk on the train and he knew his expressions made him an open book. That would be enough — unless by some miracle he got half a second with the guy like he'd gotten with T'Chaka.
When it was over, the three victors from Two joined the rest of the motley crew on the train, though when Logan turned their way, he did notice that Bobbi was looking toward Clint's platform with a little frown tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Sarkissian was quick to take advantage of Bobbi's distraction to swoop in and try and corner the newest victor for herself, though, snaking her arms around him and sidling up close while the cameras were still rolling. The stance was uncomfortable for him, and he stepped to the side, almost turning her way as she let one hand slide over to wrap around his arm instead, leaning in tightly to him as they started to walk. He kept as tolerant an expression as he could while she was all smiles and flash and the picture of solidarity on the way to the train.
Jubilee glared at the woman as soon as she had her back to the cameras, but the commentary was already running with the announcers at the way Viper had snuggled up with Logan.
The two SHIELD agents on the train saw both the glare and the way Logan tried to separate himself as soon as there was even a second without the cameras and at least had to share a relieved look at that.
He'd physically peeled her hands off of his arm and stepped back from her with an almost warning look and both hands out to ward her off before he walked away. But it was clear that Sarkissian was just taking it as a challenge.
"See, there's nothing wrong with looking, but that's escalated to unwanted touching, and that is a no-no. Aren't there rules? I thought there were rules," Skye muttered to Coulson, clearly a bit agitated in defense of her current favorite eye candy.
"Between the victors? No. No rules," Coulson admitted. "And this is an ongoing problem with her."
"Yeah… I guess with the Storm family stuff… Still. That's just — I feel like I need to take a shower now." Skye gave an exaggerated shudder.
"Imagine how he feels," Coulson deadpanned.
"He is going to take a shower now. I'm sure of it," she said, still shaking her head in disgust.
"Don't go looking for a way to stand guard now," Coulson said straight-faced before he just slipped off, leaving Skye staring after him in shock before she broke into a sort of disbelieving laugh and rushed to catch up to him.
There had been a slight change in the assignments for Two, away from the usual setup of a two-man team. This time, Jan would be joining Kurt and Peter, not just because Hill was wary of sending two members of Team Awesome at the same time to the district when Logan was getting more and more sober but because, with the problems they'd run into in Eight, Six, and now Three, they might just need the added backup.
"Be careful," Jan stressed to the two of them as they hit the dusty outskirts of Two. "Sarkissian is a piece of work, and Masters isn't far behind. Do not get killed, okay?"
"Aww, don't worry Aunt Janet," Peter teased her. "We'll be fine, and we promise not to stay out too late and eat our vegetables and all that."
Jan gave him a look that was clear even through the mask. "Just be careful, Spiderling."
"Spider-man!"
"Grow another foot and start shaving and we'll talk," she teased him with an obvious grin.
"I get it now. Seven kids are just vicious," Peter said. "So cruel."
"It's the long winters," she said, still laughing a bit to herself. "And you really shouldn't leave yourself open like that. I'm the nice one from Seven."
Kurt just put an arm around Peter's shoulders and steered him toward the Victor's Village. "Come on, Spider-man. Let's get this done and wait for our elderly escort back at the jet."
"Good idea; she's just getting meaner in her old age. Maybe Hank is rubbing off on her."
Jan responded by lifting the bottom of her mask just enough so she could stick her tongue out at Peter — and then all but skip off away from them.
Kurt had to chuckle as he watched her go. "We'll have to get her back when we get back to base," he muttered under his breath to Peter with a little grin, and Peter nodded fervently, already thinking of possible methods of retribution on the way to the Victor's Village.
Tony Master's place was … kind of like one giant gym on the inside. All kinds of different weapons and dummies all over — almost like stations throughout the building. And though they'd been ready for trouble, they were pleasantly surprised to find that at least Masters didn't have the boobytrapped set-up like some of the other past victors did. It was just ... all the equipment made them wonder if he was going to jump out of a closet ready for battle or something.
"I can hear the battle music in my head," Peter whispered to Kurt as they finished up in that house. "You know, the stuff that plays in movies right before the bad guy jumps out?"
"You've been watching too many movies lately, Peter," Kurt said, shaking his head.
"Hey, they're there for the taking from the library. And some of us don't have secret lady friends," Peter said with a shrug and a little laugh.
"Neither do I, officially."
"Right." Peter snorted and shook his head and patted his friend on the shoulder for a moment before they both climbed out of the window they'd come in.
But the real work was always going to be in the Viper's den — so both of them were almost holding their breaths looking for cameras or traps. They were surprised, then, when they slipped inside with no trouble, and the entryway and living room of the place was absolutely pristine. Very tastefully decorated, and honestly beautiful from every angle.
It wasn't until they very carefully opened the door to her self-styled office that the two boys had to stop and take pause. "What … what the heck is going on here?" Peter asked at a whisper. "It looks like some kind of I don't know … like…. This place is a nightmare."
Around the walls of the room was a low counter with vials and tubes of all kinds in racks, carefully labelled in a very neat, feminine handwriting. When Peter got closer to the counters, a loud hissing filled the room and startled him half out of his mind when he realized that there were dozens of clear boxes filled with hissing, angry snakes under the counter and behind a short curtain.
When he nearly bumped into Kurt, he started to relax until the rattling started up too, and Kurt swallowed hard before he pointed to the rest of the room. What walls weren't lined with scores and scores of snakes held all sorts of nasty creatures. Tanks with ominous-looking fish, dry tanks with spiders and scorpions, and just off of the scary little office was a greenhouse filled with all kinds of interesting and certainly dangerous plant life … this woman clearly had problems.
"Someone is taking their Games name way too seriously," Peter said with a gulp.
"Unless she was like this before," Kurt pointed out. "That could be how she got the name."
"Then someone should tell the Capitol to stop enabling her, because this is freaking me out," Peter said in a bit of a quavering voice as he looked around for someplace… relatively safe to put a camera, since clearly this was a woman that needed to be monitored for evil doings.
He was just about to move a rather scary-looking sword out of his way when a voice echoed in his ear. "Try not to touch anything in Viper's place," Hill said. "Newest intel says she may have different kinds of booby traps than we're used to dealing with."
"Ooo-kay," Peter said, pulling back from the sword. "That — really… really doesn't make me feel any better," he added, now looking at the sharpened edges of the sword with a whole new apprehension before he finally settled on a spot on the wall by the plant life, which at least didn't hiss at him when he got close. Or strike at the glass.
"Are we sure these things can't get out?" Peter asked with a nervous glance at the snake who seemed to be trying to bite through its container.
"No, so let's just do this quickly," Kurt said with a nervous tone of his own.
Peter swallowed convulsively at the repetitive thunks behind him as he rushed through setting up the camera and then scrambled over to where Kurt was, eyes wide behind his mask. "Go, go," he urged, though Kurt clearly didn't need the push, as he was ready to get out of that room as well.
Neither of the boys was too excited about the prospect of looking through the rest of the house, and they were both on high alert by that point, the mood of that room of poisons still clinging to them as they checked the last few rooms. There were no more 'offices' with live specimens, but the poisons and blades were a running theme, it seemed, which didn't exactly help their nerves.
They were just expecting something bad to happen, and Peter in particular paused outside of the last door as a sense of dread washed over him. He glanced over at Kurt before he moved to turn the door handle — and very immediately knew something had gone horribly wrong as he felt two pricks at the base of his wrist just under the handle itself.
He drew back his hand quickly even as his vision was already starting to swim, wincing and shaking out his hand and really, really hoping he hadn't found an escaped something from that room of poisons.
"What happened?" Kurt asked at seeing Peter's quick retreat.
"Something ... something bit me," Peter said, blinking hard as he started to go a bit sideways. "Or pricked. Or… something," he added, the tone of panic clear even as he was struggling to stay upright.
"Keep calm," Kurt said as he put his arm under Peter's shoulder to help get him out.
"Oh yeah. Calm. That's what I am," Peter mumbled. "Freaky poison lady's house bites me and calm is the right reaction."
"Pete, you need to stay calm to slow it," Kurt pointed out.
"Slow what?" Peter asked, clearly not very calm.
"Whatever it is that has you sweating already," Kurt said. "Your wrist is turning colors."
"Yes, thank you Hawkeye. Also — everything else is turning colors. Is that just me? It might just be me," Peter half mumbled out.
"Piggy back ride while you can still hang on," Kurt decided as he pulled Peter's arms over his shoulders. "We're leaving now." Kurt tried to adjust Peter's weight as he picked him up and Peter seemed to drift further out of reality, not bothering with the radio until the two of them were well on their way out. "Spider-Man got bitten by an escaped … something," he said over his comm. "I need medical now."
"On our way to you," was the quick reply from Simmons, one of Coulson's other team members. "We're here in Two for the tour anyway — I'll be there in a matter of minutes."
"We have some supplies in the jet," Jan said over the comms, clearly sounding concerned. "I'll prep for you — I've done it for Hank enough times I know where it is."
"Do you have any idea what it was that bit him?" Simmons asked, sounding as if she was rifling through something for the right meds.
"No, I didn't see it, and neither did he," Kurt admitted. "But it was small enough to be hidden under a doorknob."
"I have several antivenins along," she said. "Tell me about the wound …"
The quick question and answer session went on all the way up until Simmons appeared at the plane, where Kurt had lain Peter down. The only difference was that she had simply turned off her comm once she was in sight of the two boys, and she didn't give Kurt a second glance as she got to work.
It wasn't until she was administering the shot of antivenin that she started to give Kurt a bit of attention. "Do you think it was something that was escaped or something she just let wander the house?"
"I wouldn't be surprised by either, really," Kurt admitted. "She had an entire room full of venomous creatures, and I'm not sure it was built to keep them all in."
"I've heard the rumors," Simmons said, almost bright-eyed. "They say she has the largest collection of venomous creatures in the country."
"I believe it," Kurt said, not nearly matching her interested tone as he frowned after his friend, who was still sweaty and pale.
"I'm just taking a guess, mind you," she said, turning Peter's way with a small sigh. "This antivenin should ease the damage — and hopefully wake him up. If not … well. He'll have a hard time ahead of him, but we'll do everything we can to get him back to full speed." She gave Kurt a tiny, bright smile, but for some reason, Kurt didn't entirely buy it.
"And if you've guessed wrong?" he pressed her, not liking the idea of not knowing. He wasn't keen on secrets.
"Well," she said, the smile falling considerably. "If I guessed wrong, then best case scenario, the antivenin won't have any further effects. Worst case … it could accelerate the decline or cause an allergic reaction." She dug in her bag, wide-eyed, and pulled out a couple of pretty scary-looking devices, which she pressed into Kurt's hands. "These are auto injectors. If he seems to be having trouble breathing, just jam it into his thigh and press the button. You'll know soon enough if it's a problem, but I'm afraid I have to get back to the train before they start looking for me. They were nearly done when I got your call."
"Alright," Kurt said, a bit shakily as he looked down at the auto injectors in his hand.
"Don't worry. Two is close to the Capitol. I'll have him back to the Tahiti docs in no time," Jan promised quickly. "I'm a fast pilot."
"Good," Simmons said. "I'm leaving the vial of antivenin so Celia knows what he's gotten. Good luck."
"Thank you," Kurt called after her before he sat down next to his friend, watching with a deep frown while Jan waited until Simmons was clear before she punched it to get them back to base as fast as possible.
Kurt was only falling into deeper concern for Peter as the flight went on, though, because Peter had yet to wake up by the time they got to the Tahiti wing — though he hadn't stopped breathing, so at least Kurt didn't have to use the worrisome devices in his hands. Both Celia and Claire met them in the hangar on their arrival.
Kurt didn't get to follow Peter through to medical — because Hill pulled him aside to ask him what had happened, with Essex beside her looking far too interested when Kurt described the room of poisons and venoms he and Peter had found even as the pale doctor worked on Kurt's friends.
As Celia re-did the lines for Peter, Essex was half listening to Peter's heart and half watching Kurt tell the story — and actually looking the part of a concerned physician. He didn't question Kurt, instead just working on the young man without commentary while Celia tried to ask what she could to help make sure the treatments would be right.
"IV support for now," Essex finally said. "Careful monitoring, anti-inflammatories and painkillers would be my recommendation. Anything you'd like to add, doctor?" He was already measuring out a healthy dose of morphine as he looked to Cecilia to see if she was going to argue with him. But when Celia just shook her head, Essex turned his attention to Kurt. "Check yourself over carefully to make sure you didn't get nicked or bitten by anything. I'd advise you to take a thorough shower as well. It's my understanding that Miss Sarkissian is trying to develop a new transdermal poison."
Kurt blinked in surprise for a moment before he just had to nod. "Got it," he said, still with half an eye on Peter before he finally found his feet again to head to the showers nearby. He didn't want to end up in a bed next to Peter, after all — though he was still half in shock on seeing Essex with that level of actual concern for him or for Peter. At least now he knew why SHIELD even had the creepy pale man on staff. He'd never seen the man do any, well, doctoring — even if Coulson insisted that he was one of the brilliant minds behind the Tahiti process.
When Kurt made his way out of the showers, he wasn't entirely surprised to run into Essex, who took a moment on the spot to check him over — eyes and pulse, that sort of thing — before he advised him to get some food and rest before the final push for the Capitol.
"Is Peter alright?" he couldn't help but ask.
"He's showing no signs of further decline," Essex replied. "But no improvements yet either. It's still early, and he is now sedated at any rate to try and speed the healing process."
"I'd like to stay with him while I'm here," Kurt said with a frown.
Essex stopped and looked up at him with a bit of a frown to match. "It won't do him any good."
"I just don't want him to be alone," Kurt explained.
Essex let out a bit of a sigh. "Feed yourself first."
Kurt paused and looked over the doctor in front of him before he just had to nod his agreement and muttered a quick, "Thank you," before he went off in the direction of the cafeteria.
District One
Clint and Steve were already en route to One for the next day's mission when the tour hit Clint's home district, so he didn't get to see the original broadcast — and then he and Steve had been distracted with the call coming in over the radio that Peter had been hurt, so they hadn't exactly thought about watching some dumb tour until they heard that Peter had made it back to the base in one piece and that he was with the docs now.
There was really nothing else they could do, though, so finally, as they were settling in for the night before the morning's mission, Steve flipped on the screen in the jet. "Aren't you interested?" he asked when Clint didn't immediately come to join him.
"In what? Watching my own death again? Or the part where I totally embarrassed myself on national television over a girl who didn't care if I lived or died?" Clint made a face. "I'm good, thanks."
Steve frowned at that but leaned back in his seat to watch the broadcast all the same. "Don't you at least want to see your brother?" he asked when they showed the family podiums.
That had Clint's head popping up as he half scrambled over to where Steve was. "Barney?" he half gasped, eyes wide and shaking his head.
"He looks just like—"
"No, no. See. You don't understand, Cap," Clint said, shaking his head as he glared at the screen for a second. "That…" He shook his head. "I don't see the guy for years once he turns eighteen, and now he shows up? Where did they even find him? How did they find him?"
Steve watched Clint's expression for a moment with a frown. "He looks genuinely upset."
"Yeah, now." Clint just shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Typical, Barn. Way late to the game, but thanks for showing up, I guess."
"Well, at least Logan is sober for this one," Steve said, trying to redirect Clint's attention, though Clint just saw the expression on Logan's face as the new victor looked to Barney Barton and reached over to click off the screen.
"Yeah, I'm good. I don't need to see that," he said, reaching up to a cabinet above Steve's head to pull out some blankets so they could get some sleep before the early morning mission. "I don't need sympathy, and I definitely don't need whatever the heck Barney's trying to pull."
"I think he—"
"Good night, Cap," Clint said with a severe tone of finality before he just wrapped himself in the corner and proceeded to ignore all attempts at communication in favor of pretending to drift off.
January 12
District One
Skye was relieved that this was finally, at long, long last, the final briefing on tribute options that she had to report on for a while. And though she knew that there would likely be another meeting somewhere to double-finalize everything, and another to triple-check... she was in high spirits as she headed off to finish up.
She had the files and her laptop in her arms and her gaze on the ground as she stepped out of the little room she'd been using to meet up with Coulson when the entire train lurched. She very nearly face-planted — except someone had caught her and was holding her and her files up.
"Easy, darlin'," Logan muttered as he tried to set her back upright. "Might want to slow down."
"Uh-huh," she managed to get out as she quickly realized just who it was that had saved her from an embarrassing fall — and just whose biceps she was hanging onto to get upright too.
"You alright?" he asked, dipping his head down a bit to try to catch her attention, which was not helping her to keep the blush at bay.
"Oh, yeah, fine," she said as she tried to compose herself and started to re-gather her files from him. "I'm just… embarrassed. Sorry."
"Don't be," he said leaning toward her a bit before he dropped his voice to a much quieter level. "The guy down the way just dumped coffee on himself. You're fine."
"Please tell me it was Masters or Schmidtt or somebody, because that would make my day," she whispered back, finally getting her feet back under her — metaphorically and literally.
He gave her a little smirk and tipped his chin up to let her know where the guy was — though, when she saw that it was Ward, scowling and wincing as he tried to towel himself off, she just had to snort.
"Oh my gosh, he knows five hundred ways to kill a person but he can't handle coffee. I'm going to have to tease him now," Skye said with a little laugh.
"I'm sure there are plenty of other deficits to pick from," he said with what she swore was a little wink before he let her go and stepped back a bit.
"Right. Well — thanks. For the save," she said as she rearranged the laptop and files in her hands one last time. "Um — I'll see you around. Possibly."
He just tipped his head at her and then headed off in the opposite direction she was going.
When Skye got to the meeting with Coulson, she wasn't nearly as flustered or red as before — until she saw the smirk her boss was giving her. "Oh, shut up," she grumbled good-naturedly.
"I didn't say a word," he replied with the now ever-present smirk. "Did anything interesting happen that I might have missed?"
"No," she said as she put down her files and laptop. "Nothing at all. Clearly."
"Was it hard getting here? Seems like Ward had a little trouble in the next car over."
She just gave him a look for a second. "I might have gotten a little … help."
"Just help?" It was clear he was just barely keeping from chuckling at her now.
"Yes. Help with not faceplanting. Shut up, Coulson," she said, turning a bit pink now as she started very pointedly opening files with much more force than was necessary to push them his way.
"Just starting to worry that I might need a new operative."
"I didn't do anything," she insisted. "He caught me. It's not my fault the train lurched, okay?"
"I didn't say you did anything," he said with a real smile now.
"Shut up," she said more insistently. "Just... don't do that. Just stop."
"Was he more or less sober than last time?"
"More," she admitted. "And he was a perfect gentleman and his arms are huge and I totally didn't feel him up on purpose but oh my gosh, the blue eyes and — okay so maybe I held on a little too long but I didn't start it," she said in a rush.
"Noted," he said with a little laugh. "Whenever you're composed … tell me what you have. "
Skye shot him another look but bit back her comment that she had been composed before he started teasing her in favor of just getting the meeting over with. "Lots more for your evil viewing pleasure," she said. "Megalomaniacs and manipulators. One kid who's practically a prince — the Von Doom family owns like half the district at least." She tapped the file in question. "He's got an ego the size of District Eleven."
"That sounds like a pretty big endorsement for trouble," Coulson said.
"Well, that's what we want, isn't it?" she asked with a grin. "But the other two are pretty evil too. I mean — Killgrave's name alone is going to get people talking, and he so lives up to it. Academy kid — he talked his first kill into suicide without ever raising a weapon to get noticed by the trainers." She shuddered a bit. "And Shaw is just… not even fair. He's huge and strong and a master at manipulation."
"Sounds like both of them are prime picks. But — the one that manipulates. That one sounds like our guy."
"I think so too. He'd up the creep factor significantly, and we want our Careers to strike terror into their hearts. So… I'll put him at the top of the list. One of the other two as backup, though. It's a good list. Well, an evil list. But a good one."
"And the ladies of District One?"
"Right." She leaned forward. "So, I already have an idea for the drawing pick, since One's almost always got a volunteer from the Academy or someplace. Sweet little redhead type, but if no one steps up, she is scary good at talking people into things. Which would be good for keeping up with our guy. Her name's Pryor." She tapped the picture. "She and Braddock from Two will be the camera bait before we drop all that evil on the Games."
"Perfect — we like to have a little bit of pretty in there before all the evil comes out."
"That's what I thought," Skye said, nodding her agreement. "And then we've got the evil." She pushed the other two files forward. "Morgan le Fay and this girl who just goes by Black Lotus at the Academy. No real record before she was accepted there, except that she's a wicked fighter."
"It's always a good entertainment factor when it's one of the girls that's top on hand to hand."
"You say that like you don't work with the Cavalry," Skye said with a smirk.
"I know how substantial women can be as fighters if they want to," Coulson defended. "It's not my fault that the larger part of Marvel still isn't with it."
Skye just smirked even wider at that. "Nice save, AC," she teased before she just tapped the last picture. "Right, so, there's the fighter, and then there's Morgan, who could probably give Killgrave a run for his money if she gets her hands on any poisons. She likes to play with hallucinogens to get people softened up enough to do what she wants."
"Considering where the arena is, that is a distinct possibility," Coulson said thoughtfully.
"Then we'll nudge the Academy her way. Black Lotus is still young enough we can use her next year," Skye offered.
"Sounds good to me," Coulson replied finally as he looked over the rest of Morgan's file. "I'll take those, and … let me know if your assessment changes once we get to One." He gave Skye a little smirk. "I'll bet if you hurry, you can still catch your free show."
"You are not funny, Coulson," Skye said, shaking her head — even as she gathered up her laptop and rushed out to do just that.
The only good thing Logan could think of to say about District One was that it simply meant that this stupid part of the dog and pony show was finally just about over. The crowds were huge. The stage was bright as hell, and he just didn't like the whole feel about the place. He'd seen most of the district on the train ride in, and it was barren — except for the single, glittering city where the richest gathered to show off for their Capitol benefactors. The juxtaposition alone had him frowning, and then all the pomp and circumstance over the Games themselves had him downright grumbly.
It was another district with no families on the pedestals, and it had him wondering if these creeps were picking people with no families on purpose. He knew the process wasn't random as they liked to say it was. There was no way in hell two of Odin's kids could have been pulled in one year. No way. And the little implosion in Nine with Lensherr — he didn't like the guy, but that was a set-up from the word go.
He just couldn't figure out why the hell they'd picked people like Kurt and Kate, sweet kids with families that cared about them. Peter too for that matter, with his aunt... It just had him in a foul mood thinking about it, so he didn't hear it when the jackass at the microphone quit talking and the replay started — until he heard Kate's voice, and he looked up in time to see his little Trickshot pulling one over on the psycho girl from One.
He didn't bother trying to keep his reaction in check. He didn't care that anyone could see that it was clearly the first that he'd seen of it, and although for the most part, he was almost proud of her — taking down a Career like that — he couldn't help but feel as if he'd somehow failed her by not doing it for her.
His gaze fell, and again, the nagging depression started to rear its head his way — just another failure on his part. He'd stopped Creed from getting a hold of her, but not before she'd gotten blood on her hands.
It was unlikely that the group that had surrounded him on the train had any idea what had been the trigger of this particular bout of self-blame, though, as they just seemed to share looks with each other as he passed them by on the way out.
Of course, all it really did was feed the narrative that Tivan had sparked up — not that he cared in the least.
"Come on, princess, up and at 'em. Time to screw with some Sentinels and hot shots in One," Clint declared as he half ripped the blanket off of Steve when morning hit. He only stuck around to make sure Steve was really awake before he grabbed them both thermoses of coffee and shoved one into his partner's hands.
It didn't take them long to get up and ready to go, both of them clearly excited to be done with this two-week run of missions — at least the part in the districts. The Capitol assignments were honestly more exciting, and Clint found himself actually looking forward to some of them. A few assassinations were due his way, and they were tricky. Challenging. Not like the surveillance routine they had been doing this whole time.
"C'mon, Spangles," he said as soon as Steve had finished his coffee, half pulling him along toward the opened hatch of the plane to get a move on.
It was going to be simple, straightforward. The so-called Fantastic Four were all on their sides, so all the boys had to do was get into the Sentinels' HQ and the mayor's place. Easy, right?
But that quickly got derailed when they reached the outskirts of One and Clint spotted a dark-clad figure also hovering in the shadows like they were.
"Hey, Cap? We're the only ones assigned here, right? Didn't get a babysitter like the awesomes did?" Clint muttered out of the corner of his mouth to his partner, his gaze on the dark figure. There was something familiar about her — and it was a 'her'; he could tell by the way she moved — but it was hard to place when she was just as well-concealed by her gear as he and Steve were.
"As far as I know," Steve muttered back to him, and that settled it for Clint as he held up a hand to tell Steve to stay put while he went to investigate this new player.
He was halfway to her when her head came up, and Clint knew she'd spotted him because she reached for a comm first and then a gun, so he abandoned his attempt to sneak up on her and made a rush for her, with Steve not far behind when he had clearly realized that this was not going down like one of the other district missions.
Clint could hear Steve calling it in — "We have an unknown player here; Ronin is engaging" — at the same time the girl finished up her message in a low tone. She wasn't as loud and clear as Steve was, but for just a second, Clint froze when he heard the voice. He recognized it.
"Nat?" he asked hesitantly, but that hesitation was all she needed.
He heard the quick report of her gun as she shot him — a tight grouping in the center of his chest and two in the stomach.
The black uniforms that all of the Tahiti kids wore came equipped with body armor, so it wasn't immediately fatal, but all the same, being shot five times, even with body armor, was no picnic, and Clint went down hard, gasping. One of the rounds had managed to pierce through — thus why she'd used a tight grouping — and the only thought pounding in Clint's head that wasn't about the fact that he was hurt and bleeding and his chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it was that she hadn't gone for a kill shot. Even the chest grouping was off-center from his heart.
Of course, his second thought was a little less optimistic as he realized he couldn't honestly say whether that meant Natasha wanted him alive… or if whoever was pulling her strings wanted him alive.
He heard the sound of gunshots over his head and the clang of metal as Natasha hit Steve's shield instead of Steve, and he realized that Steve was crouched down beside him, covering Clint's body with his shield as he tried to assess his partner, though to his concern, it was hard to focus enough to keep track of the fight. He felt funny — and the initial sharp pain of the shot hadn't lessened in the least. In fact, it felt like it was getting worse.
"I need backup. The unknown shot Ronin — repeat, Ronin is down."
"But not out," Clint muttered through his teeth almost automatically, which got Steve to look his way for a second and shake his head, clearly in disbelief that Clint could be making witty rejoinders at a time like this.
Hill response came crisp and clear over the radio. She was clearly annoyed with just how much of what was supposed to be a big push for the reinforced Tahiti program had gone downhill as she asked, "How bad is it?"
"I don't know yet. I need to get us somewhere safe before I can assess the damage," Steve admitted. The sound of gunshots ricocheting off of Steve's shield died off, and Clint tried to move to see if that meant Nat had scampered — or if she was just looking to get a better angle on them — but Steve held him down with a muttered, "Don't move," that Clint almost didn't catch because for some reason, Steve's hands felt like they weighed a ton, and the touch felt like being hit by a boxing champion.
"Nat," Clint tried to say through his teeth, trying to get out something to let his partner know what was up even as he was biting back the urge to scream, but that just seemed to jump Steve into concern. Guy probably thought he was half out of it. Great.
"Don't worry; I got you," Steve promised as he glanced around the area and carefully scooped Clint up despite Clint's protests — not just because he didn't want to be carried around but because it hurt.
It wasn't just his chest, either, though that certainly hurt. Whatever Nat had shot him with, it clearly wasn't normal, because it felt like it was spreading. His shoulders ached. His stomach was on fire. His muscles felt like they were being torn apart. And where Steve touched him felt like hot needles — not that it got any better when Steve set him down again when they got to the jet. Any contact on his skin had him all but holding his breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Steve was just getting more and more concerned the more this went on as he gingerly peeled off Clint's mask and then his shirt and body armor, wincing when he saw not only the bullet wound but the fact that the area around it looked almost blue — which could not be a good sign.
Steve turned to his radio once more to call it in: "Single gunshot wound to the chest. Non-lethal, but it looks like the bullet was laced with something. The wound is discolored, and he's hurting beyond just the bruising and the bullet."
"Get him back to base Now," Hill all but barked over the radio, and Steve didn't argue at all. He just got Clint strapped in, wincing in sympathy when Clint all but whimpered at the contact of the straps before he climbed into the cockpit and frowned at the controls. He'd been in training a couple times with Carol and Rhodey, but…
Well, here went nothing.
Both of the boys were lucky that One was the closest district to the Capitol, because that meant a mercifully short flight for both of them. Steve clumsily set the jet down in the hangar, and it wasn't elegant at all and had probably ruined some of the equipment. He didn't exactly care, because Clint was now openly whimpering, his jaw tightly clenched to keep from letting anything else out.
Claire and Essex both met Steve at the hangar, hardly speaking a word to Steve and just tossing their diagnoses back and forth at each other as they worked in tandem to get the injured Hawkeye off the jet. "No exit wound — we're going to have to get it out of him," Claire told Essex, who just nodded as he wordlessly checked Clint over for any other injuries or symptoms, blatantly ignoring the young man when he pulled away from him — since Clint wasn't with it enough to really fight him off.
Steve hadn't taken more than a few steps through the hangar before Hill cornered him with no small amount of fury in her gaze. "What happened? How was your cover blown?" she all but hissed at him.
"I don't know," he told her. "Clint was the one to spot this new player, and he went after the guy. I didn't get close enough to get a good look at him until he was shooting at us, and then I had other priorities, honestly."
She looked frustrated for a moment before she sighed out all her breath. "Go get yourself checked out just to be sure. We're not even to the Capitol yet and I'm already down two operatives."
Steve nodded with a frown to match hers. "We didn't even make it into the district itself," he told her. "Whoever this was, they were close to where our jet set down, too."
Hill turned his way for a moment with both eyebrows raised before she spun on her heel, and as she walked out of the hangar, he could hear her barking into her radio to Coulson that he had better triple-check his communications, because it looked like they had a leak.
Steve frowned after her for a moment before he made his way to the med bay to check in on Clint, who was still half fighting Essex every time the man got close to him, even though Claire was trying to calm him down and reassure him that "despite his bedside manner, he knows what he's doing."
"Can't you give him something?" Steve asked, glancing at Peter, who was sedated in the room across the hall — still pale and sweaty but at least unconscious for the worst of it.
"Not until we know what we know what was in whatever they gave him," Claire explained as she moved to hold Clint's arms down so Essex could get a blood sample, and when Clint made a hissing noise at the contact and then screamed at the pinprick of the needle as if he was being stabbed, she tried to shush him a bit. "I know, I know."
Steve just watched the whole thing with a frown as he felt powerless to help his friend, who was clearly hurting.
Essex went through a quick workup of Clint's blood while Claire was clearly making preparations for surgery to get the bullet out once they knew what they were dealing with, so when Essex looked their way with a bit of a frown, both of them knew it wasn't good.
"I don't recognize the compound," Essex admitted. "It seems to be a combination of venoms. The best I can tell you is that it doesn't seem to be lethal, but it is targeted for pain, as you can see," he said, gesturing at Clint.
"What does that mean?" Steve asked.
"It means your friend is in for a rough night," Claire told him gently, and Steve knew the second she took his arm to get him out of the room while Essex was prepping Clint that it was going to be ugly. "Why don't you have Celia look you over?" she asked gently.
Steve just frowned at that. "Is he going to be okay?" he asked outright.
Claire gave him a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine. But these next few hours are going to be very painful."
"I want to stick with him."
"You're supposed to be in the Capitol right now. But if it makes you feel any better, I'll make sure when he comes out of it, any of the kids on base that aren't in the Capitol will be there — for him and Peter."
Steve frowned for a second before he finally had to let out all his breath and let Claire take him one room over to where Celia was waiting. There was nothing he could do — at least for now.
