Chapter 32: Firebird
July 14th: Day Eight of the Games
In the Capitol
Logan was pretty deeply asleep after having come in at just past six in the morning the previous night — so when Jubilee came bursting in to wake him up, he just wasn't prepared for the attack.
And it was an attack — not the usual 'good morning' cheer but a full-on, pulling-him-off-the-couch, glaring Jubilee. "What were you thinking?" she half shrieked at him once she had him on the floor from all the pulling — and turned upright so he was no longer face-down.
"I take it you didn't bring coffee?" he asked from the floor, a definite rasp in his voice.
"It's in the kitchen," she said dismissively before she leveled a finger in his face. "And it's not ready yet, because you're not getting any until you tell me what the heck is up — drinking with Viper? Are you crazy?"
"Possibly," he conceded.
"What were you thinking?" she demanded again, hands on her hips.
"Would you take the volume down a few notches, Jubes?" he asked as he started to get upright. "I went because Bobbi asked me to."
Jubilee looked surprised for a moment before she did, in fact, turn the volume down. But only a little. "Okay, then what was she thinking? Because that is just a bad idea all around for everyone. It really, really is."
"Don't worry, I know Viper's trouble. I am not trying to make friends. At all."
"It's not 'friends' I'm worried about." She narrowed her eyes and leveled her finger right at his nose for a second before she let out a little 'hmph' and stalked off to go get some coffee.
"Not doin' that either, not with anyone here," he called back her way as she stalked off. "You can relax, ya mother hen."
"It's a full-time occupational hazard with you!" she called back at him, still clearly peeved — though she did at least bring the coffee back for him.
He made sure to pull her over, give her a kiss on the cheek as she handed him the cup, and even managed to mutter out a thanks before the tablet chimed. But he elected, for the moment, to ignore it. At least for as long as Jubilee was there. He glanced toward the tablet and shook his head at Skye's timing before he picked it up, set it face down on the coffee table, and took a seat to try and wake up. "Is that all you needed, Jubes? Yell at me and try to tell me what I already know?"
She glanced at the tablet for a second before she made a face at him. "Just wanted to check on you, because it's not like—"
"How's Noh?" he asked, cutting her short before she could get rolling again.
She stopped short, deflating, and let out a very long, tired-sounding breath. "He's upset," she admitted. "Everybody is. I mean, it was awful."
"Yeah, none of the victors were too happy either — with, of course, a few sick exceptions."
"Yeah. Like your drinking partner," she told him, not quite ready to let it die.
"Bobbi was shaken, I'll have you know," he shot right back with a little smirk, pointedly ignoring the other part of the drinking group from the night before.
"That is so not who I meant," she said, shaking her head at him as the tablet chimed again. She glanced at it with her head tipped to one side, but when he made no move to check it, she turned her attention right back to him. "Noh's ready to leave; we just… have to get through…"
"Waiting to see how America does," Logan said with a nod. "Yeah."
"And then we can officially start our line," she said, though this time with an unmistakable smirk.
"Has your business partner gotten you a ring yet, or should I hang him upside down by his ankles?"
Jubilee stared at him openly for that one. "You will not," she managed to sputter out at last.
"I will, if he needs the motivation," Logan said with a little smile starting at the corner of his mouth.
"You…" She shook her head at him hard and reached over to smack him in the arm, though at just that moment, the tablet chimed, and she turned to look at it. "I think someone wants your attention," she said, half curious and half to change the subject.
He gave it a little wave. "It's fine. Message'll be there when I get to it."
She raised an eyebrow at him before she simply snatched the tablet up, spun it around in her hand, and opened up the messages herself.
"Jubes—" Logan started to say, reaching for the tablet, though she clearly wasn't going to give it up now, holding it up above her head before she skittered away to look at it.
"Who's she?" Jubilee asked when she saw Skye's picture, pushing back with both feet away from the table to keep the tablet out of reach.
"A friend," Logan replied, though he wasn't about to chase her over the stupid thing.
"A very pretty lady friend that I don't know about?" Jubilee sounded honestly insulted.
"She's in SHIELD and is not interested," he replied dryly.
"Really?" She didn't sound at all convinced as she opened up the messages, reading through them one by one and looking less and less convinced of anything Logan might say in his own defense once she'd seen them all:
Really? I leave you alone for FIVE MINUTES and you go INSANE?
You better just be hungover.
If you are STILL THERE I'm going to stage a rescue. I'm not even kidding.
You better NOT still be there…. I SWEAR I'M GOING TO PUT EVERY DIRTY TRICK TO USE ON HER, SO HELP ME!
"You should read these," she called to Logan in a sing-song voice. "Somebody's in trouble."
"Gimmie the tablet, ya loon," he replied wearily. "I'm not in trouble."
She beamed at him as she let her chair back down to all four legs and slid it over to him. "You better respond — I think she's serious," she said, the laughter obvious in her voice.
He shook his head at her and had to close his eyes for a minute at the content of the messages. "Worried that she's gonna horn in on your yellin' at me?" he asked as he sent out a quick response. Yes. I'm hungover. And getting yelled at by a stylist. But feel free to stage a rescue anyhow. Sounds like fun.
"More like suspicious!" Jubilee replied with relish. "Who's this pretty, protective friend of yours, and why haven't I gotten to meet her? And when am I going to meet her?"
"I told you, she's a SHIELD agent," he replied as an answer to all of it. "There are a few pretty ones, you know."
"Well, I am going to meet her," Jubilee told him in a tone that should not be argued with. "Like, yesterday."
"I think you should worry about your not-boyfriend right now. This is imaginary, what you're working up."
"Deny it all you like, mister, but I am so going to meet this SHIELD person, and if nothing else, she is going to help me keep you from making dumb decisions — like, oh, hmm, I don't know, drinking with Viper."
"Can't keep me from doing everything," he replied before he got up to refill his mug. "And as far as I'm concerned, I was drinking with the snake to watch out for Bobbi."
"Now that… that I believe," Jubilee had to admit.
Logan took a long drink, watching Jubilee with narrowed eyes. "But you were in a rush to jump to some more … newsworthy option?"
"Just making sure you weren't being stupid," she defended.
"Listen, I know I'm an idiot, but I'm not quite that dumb," he said.
"I know," she said soothingly. "But sometimes?" She shook her head. "I mean, last time you were here for the Games — for the victory tour? There was some spectacular stupid then too."
He let out a long breath and nodded. "Yeah, but that stupid happened after I'd been wasted for a week solid," he pointed out. "I lost a few days there anyhow, Jubes. That is nothing like this. And that isn't happening again."
"Good." She bopped over to give him a kiss on the cheek before she broke into an impish grin. "Because if it did, I now know someone I can call to help me kick your butt."
"Like hell. Tablet'll be gone end of Games," he pointed out with a little smirk. "So it's going to be hard when you don't have a name."
"I'm sure I can spot a pretty SHIELD agent coming to flatten Viper. I'm not dense," she teased.
"I figured you'd be more wrapped up in your sparkle-pants friend to pay attention to a SHIELD steamroller."
"Well…" She paused to consider it. "I guess that depends on the steamroller's timing," she said, as, almost on cue, the tablet chimed again with a new message from Skye:
Sorry, I don't think we covered stylists in basic training. You're on your own.
He let out a little chuckle at that and couldn't help but reply. Knew you guys were chicken. Afraid of a little bubblegum-scented stylist. You should be ashamed.
Jubes had to take a peek at what it said, and when she did, she looked so smug it was ridiculous. "I think her timing's pretty good though. I'll bet I can find her."
"Good luck with that," he said, looking entirely too full of it. "I'm sure you'll run out of things to talk about, oh, five seconds in."
"That's what you think," Jubilee replied, now grinning impishly before she all but skipped back out, clearly on her way to either make over her partner or track down Skye — or both.
In the Arena
Without Billy to keep track of, the remnants of Team Awesome 2.0 were making good time across the desert, and had been for most of the night, with America leading them on to try and find someone she could kill. By the time morning came around and the sun showed up, they were nearly back to where they'd started a week ago at the Tesseract, though only Miles could tell. He recognized one of the really high camping spots he and Gwen had picked the first night in the arena — but he wasn't about to point that out and break the silence that had settled over the entire group since Billy died.
Ultimately, it was Kitty who finally spoke up, as the sunrise turned the desert warmer. "We need to find somewhere to rest in the shade."
At the suggestion, America turned to face the younger woman, and her expression was hard for only a moment before she seemed to really look at her two allies, who had been following the pace she set all night, and had to sigh. "Fine," she said. "But once we get some food and water and set up camp — I'm going to keep hunting. I'll come back after I find someone." She paused when she saw both of them frown and amended, "Or after someone else steps it up. Either way, there will be a cannon before nightfall today."
Kitty and Miles shared a little glance, and Kitty nodded, though it was easy to see the two of them weren't able to hold up the grudge like America was. Not without some rest, anyhow.
America let out a sigh. "But I'll take first watch before I go," she amended.
"You don't have to," Kitty said. "We'll be okay if you want to keep going."
"Sorry, gorgeous, but I'm not about to let you get hurt too," America said. "Sleep, eat, have some water — I'll take care of the nasties still out there."
"My hero," she replied with both hands clasped up under her chin.
"Drama queen," America said, rolling her eyes as the group of them headed for a tight grouping of rocks — that usually meant overhangs, at least, and possibly caves and crevices if they were lucky.
But apparently, they weren't the only ones who had seen the shelter, and as the three of them approached the rocks, there was a light scuttling sound that echoed in the arena — just before three huge scorpions emerged from the red rocks, their stinging tails glistening with venom and their claws outstretched, already headed for each of the members of the little alliance.
Kitty had her sword drawn quickly and was holding it in front of her as the beasts approached. She wasn't sure how she was going to help her friends, but she knew that if America got grabbed by those pincers, she wouldn't be able to punch her way out of it before she got stung.
She met her scorpion head on, darting around its pincers as she tried to cut the tail off first, though it seemed as though the beast had already figured out that it was in its best interests to keep Kitty away from its stinger.
As for Miles, the youngest member of the alliance was doing his utmost to outrun and outmaneuver the scorpion headed right for him. His eyes were wide as the long stinger came crashing down into the sand just inches away from him as he let out a little 'eep.'
He ducked and dodged, keeping his attention on the pincers and tail the whole time, looking the scorpions over and trying to find a weakness as he tried to work it out aloud. "Ooh, okay. Yeah. Armored. Armored little nasty bug creature things. With venom. Yeah, okay…." He shook his head as he dodged another tail swipe. "So… how to get to the soft underbelly? If… if there is a soft underbelly? Please tell me there is one, because that's my only idea right now."
"Less talking, more hitting," America called his way as she seemed to have decided the best approach was to try to wrench off her scorpion's pincers, narrowly avoiding the gleaming stinger as she did so.
"Right." Miles nodded to himself as he barely dodged out of the way of a nasty-looking pincer grab, though as he slid out of the scorpion's reach, he saw a flash of lighter color. "YES. Soft underbelly — I was right!" he crooned, though he almost immediately regretted the fist bump as the scorpion's tail sang through the air and missed him by so fine a margin that it snagged on his sleeve.
"Watch it, Spidey," America ground out as she kicked at her scorpion. It was clear she was glad to have something to hit and take out her pent-up aggression — but on the other hand, she was also obviously having a hard time making any leeway with how close she had to get to do any damage. Blunt force and hand-to-hand weren't exactly the best methods for fighting scorpions.
Nearby, Kitty was wearing herself out — not that she had much to give at that point anyhow after the long march across the desert — when a thought crossed her mind on how to fight the beast. If it worked, she was sure to have America yelling at her afterward. But if it failed … well. Her friend wouldn't have to look for someone to kill out of necessity.
She bit her lip, knowing that she would have to keep her head clear as she hesitated, allowing the scorpion to grab her with its pincers. The pain was horrible as it tried to crush her, but the instinct on the animal was automatic. As soon as Kitty stopped fighting it, the tail came down — and her sword arced through the air to lop off the stinger.
The scorpion hissed out its pain and tried to grab Kitty's sword arm with its other pincer, but she made her quick move to drive the sword through its head, pinning it to the ground and forcing it to release her. She scrambled backward, ignoring the fact that the creature still had her sword as it hissed and died, limbs flailing.
She caught her breath as she watched the dead creature for a moment, then got to her feet to retrieve her sword. She looked toward her two friends and decided that, surprisingly, Miles seemed to have it under control — so America needed her help more.
Not that Kitty would ever say as much out loud.
She rushed toward America, gaining a bit of steam the closer she got to her. "Need a hand, sweetheart?" she called out, ready to fight, though she was limping from the pinch she'd gotten.
"Jump in if you're bored," America replied through gritted teeth, kicking against the scorpion to hit it squarely in the head to send it reeling back.
"If I can chop its stinger off, you can pound it to death," Kitty said. "I know you'd like that."
"So very, very much," America agreed.
"Okay, well. Try to catch his attention, and I'll … try to work around the backside."
"Fine by me," America muttered before she dove into it, once more trying to wrench one of its pincers off — and she was actually fairly close to doing so, its left pincer barely hanging on as the creature hissed and scuttled around, trying to return the favor.
The scorpion had its attention entirely on America as she wrenched the claws around, and with a slash that Kitty had to use both hands for, Kitty sliced the tail off about halfway up — and got herself half splattered in scorpion goop for her trouble.
"Ugh! Nasty," Kitty grumbled as she staggered backward a few steps from the flailing scorpion. "I'm going to be stuck wearing this yuck for the rest of the Games!"
But it was exactly what America needed to start pounding on the beastie, cracking through the hard-shelled armor now that she no longer had to avoid the tail. The girl from Twelve just kept on pounding until the scorpion was totally unrecognizable, and Kitty didn't make a move to stop her, knowing America needed this, backing up to let her friend do her thing.
Meanwhile, Miles felt like he had a good handle on the pattern this mutt was operating under. Pincers to try and hold him in place, then the tail. It seemed to take way more energy for the stinger than for the pincers, so those would be his biggest problem.
But he finally had the makings of a good plan of attack in place, he was pretty sure — and he knew he was skinny and short enough to make it happen. Advantage of being the smallest — ha! And they say that's a bad thing in the Games, he thought to himself as he sized up the gap between the scorpion's abdomen and the ground.
When the scorpion lunged with both pincers, Miles seized the opportunity to duck underneath its outstretched limbs and let the momentum of its path carry it forward as he took out four throwing stars from his pockets. Instead of throwing them, though, he just held them up and jammed them forward, letting the scorpion open up its own underbelly with the forward motion of its own attack as it passed over his head — and trying very hard not to open his mouth as scorpion ick dripped on him.
Of course, simple friction had stopped him from sliding entirely past the beast, and that meant the thing died on top of Miles, its legs starting to curl up as he let out a muffled shout of … ick.
Kitty made her way over to where Miles was while America was still pounding hers, and when she got close enough to see what had happened, she just dropped down and tipped her head his way. "That looks uncomfortable."
"No. Kidding," came the slightly muffled response.
"America will be done soon," Kitty said. "But … I don't have the leverage for you. Sorry."
"No, no, that's fine," Miles replied. "Just leave me here… stuck… under the inferior arachnid."
She giggled. "Well. What did it expect going up against a Spiderman?"
"Clearly bad decision-making all around."
"It sure looks like it's regretting all of its most recent life decisions — what with the yuck it's leaking out. That's going to stain."
"And it smells really, really bad down here," Miles agreed.
Kitty had to chuckle a bit as Miles moaned out his complaints, though America did finally get tired of punishing her scorpion and made her way over to very nearly wrench all the legs off of Miles', too, in order to get him out from underneath it, with Kitty lending her shoulder to the effort to roll it off once they had him mostly freed.
Miles looked over both girls once he was free with a triumphant grin, though he had to shake his head at the state of all of them. "Well, I don't think we have to worry about hunting down any tributes. They'll smell us from a mile off."
America gave him a look for that one before she gave him a more careful once-over and then did the same to Kitty, frowning when she noticed that Kitty had a limp. "What happened?" she asked.
Kitty glanced down at her leg then back up to America and tried to wave it off, her curls coming loose from the ponytail she was wearing as she shook her head. "Oh. Pincers. I'm sure it'll be okay."
America didn't look like she believed Kitty, though, and instead of asking, she picked her up to carry her toward shelter, bridal style. "Come on, Miles. Let's get my hero out of the sun and put some food in her."
"Oooh, hey, before we do that…" Miles went back to where one of the scorpion carcasses was, and both girls turned to watch him with eyebrows raised as he crouched down — unsure what he was up to until he turned around with his water bottle in hand and a few inches of yellowish liquid at the bottom of it.
"Okay, no one drink from this," he said. "But hey, venom! We can use this for something, I'm sure."
"You're totally creeping me out, Miles," Kitty said.
"Hey, I know I'm no good with the throwing of the throwing stars, but maybe if I had a little more bite to my spider bites…" He shrugged. "Venom blast!"
"He's going to try to make that a thing, isn't he?" Kitty asked America quietly.
"Just let him have his moment. He did good," America said with the smallest of smirks as she gestured for the now very confident Miles to lead the way in their quest to find shelter from the sun.
Bucky and his new partner hadn't really spoken to each other much that morning — or, really, since Bucky joined up with her. Not that he really blamed her, all things considered.
He was sure that he could probably guess at some of her thoughts, though. And not just about the partner she'd had before him, though it was plain enough to see that there had been something between the two of them a little more than an alliance.
There was also the unmistakable fact that there had not been a cannon the previous day — and the one that did sound was a good long while after the parade of faces. Having been subject to the poison these people had in those trackers… Bucky knew that whoever it was, it hadn't been pretty, no matter what had happened. If they lured in another tribute or mutt or anything else, it would have been terrible right up until someone killed them.
That should have been me, he thought to himself. He was lucky that Betsy was the one to find him and not someone else. But so far, she'd refused to accept it when he thanked her; that much was obvious from the multiple attempts he'd already made.
He thought he should probably just go — it was obvious she hadn't wanted him as an ally anyway; she'd only really taken him in out of pity. The only problem was … he wasn't sure he should go. Not the way she'd been looking for the past day or so.
He didn't know what he could do to help, exactly, but that hadn't ever stopped him from trying.
"We're gonna need water soon," he told her, breaking the oppressive silence with half a glance her way.
"Yes," she said finally, nodding to herself. "How did you do on that station?"
"Not too well," he admitted. "Enough to get by."
She looked around them, trying to find something to anchor herself to — something that would remind her what to do next. "Then … what do you need?"
"Maybe someplace with rock instead of sand," Bucky said, straining to remember what the trainer had said about finding water. "I know sand doesn't retain water at all. This place is almost dry again… maybe we'll find water in a rock pool?" He shrugged. "Optimistically."
"It's worth looking into," she said with a small, forced smile. "You lead the way."
He watched her for a moment, his head tipped to one side in a frown, before he nodded and headed east, closer to the mountains — figuring that would most likely be their best shot. The strange rock formations, pounded even smoother by the recent rains and floods, were closer together and provided more shade as well — though it was a dangerous move, since that meant more hiding place for mutts and other tributes.
That hadn't exactly been on Bucky's mind when he suggested it, though — he'd simply wanted to find a place with water in it and move on to the next little pool or whatever else they could find. Moving was good; it gave him something to do.
So he didn't hear it right away when the tribute hidden in the rocks began to creep after them. He had no idea that Betsy was slowing down and watching warily, because she didn't want to tip off the interloper that she knew they were there. But he did hear it when Yuriko finally attacked Betsy. Not because of the scuffle or the drawn sword — but because of the shout that Betsy let out as Yuriko sent her blade through Betsy's stomach.
Betsy's katana clattered to the ground, and she turned to try and push the taller girl away from her, but with the injury on top of her dehydration, the purple-haired model was simply outmatched.
Bucky was too far ahead to get there fast enough to prevent Yuriko from yanking her blade out of Betsy — and he didn't have any kind of range to speak of to do her any damage. The tribute from Ten looked up to see Bucky running her way and simply smirked, backing away from Betsy before she took off at a run and left the two unlikely allies to deal with the wound she'd given Betsy — it was almost certainly fatal in that arena anyway.
Bucky paused, wanting to run after the Ten tribute … but he wasn't going to let Betsy die alone, either. She hadn't let him die alone and screaming, so he wasn't going to abandon her — for all the good it would do at this point.
Betsy was shaking, and bleeding pretty badly, but it was plain to see that although there was a good amount of blood, it was a wound that would take hours to catch up to her fully. And she was already clearly in terrible pain.
"Do you want me to… I can knock you out," he offered, completely out of his element when he reached her side.
But she shook her head and pointed to her sword. "Make it quick. Just …please, make it quicker than this."
He followed her point to the sword and frowned, but he picked it up anyway and weighed it out in his hand. "I don't know how to use…"
"Just a cut ... " She showed him exactly where on her neck. "It will be fast. I'd try myself, but my hands …" Her voice was trembling as much as her hands were, and she didn't even try to hold back the tears. "Cut deep; the blade is sharp."
He glanced down at her hands and took a breath before he nodded. "Yeah, okay."
She nodded with him, closed her eyes tightly, and waited, leaving it on him. He followed her directions precisely, half holding his breath as he did so, and he was surprised at how soon afterward the cannon sounded, startling him into nearly dropping the sword he was still holding.
"If that's the redhead, are you going to be okay not finding her?" Clara asked Scott quietly when they heard the cannon ring out in the desert air.
He honestly had to stop and think about it. "Yes," he said at last. "I'd rather we go after a Career than anyone else, though. We'll just… see who it is in the parade." It wouldn't be too long before they found out, anyway, considering how late it was in the day — and the alliance of Sevens and Kamala was getting ready to head out as the sun went down, to take advantage of the night air and go hunting.
Clara smirked his way and nodded to herself. "I think I'm up to causing a ruckus again, so thank you."
"No problem," he assured her quickly. "You were pretty exhausted. My fault, sorry."
"It is so not your fault," she said. "I am not built for this kind of climate." She gestured to her sunburned cheeks and nose. "Far too fair-skinned."
He smirked her way. "Don't have to tell me. I'd prefer a cabin in the snow any day."
"Smart man," Clara said with a smirk.
"At least the cannon was before the parade this time," Kamala cut in, her eyes wide as she glanced up at the steadily darkening sky. "They keep cutting it close."
"Considering who's left, that doesn't surprise me," Scott said quietly, also glancing up at the sky as the two of them followed Clara.
The three of them sat down for a quick break — and to share some water — as the parade of faces finally started up in the sky, and the first new face they saw was Betsy, from Two, which had Scott raising both eyebrows.
"Wonder if she was the one they picked," he muttered mostly to himself.
"For as few Careers as there were left?" Clara said, shaking her head. "I doubt that somehow."
The faces continued until Billy Kaplan from Twelve was the last in the sky, and Kamala let out a little 'oh' as she covered her mouth with one hand.
Clara was quick to make her way over to Kamala and put her arm around the younger girl's shoulder. "We don't know what happened to him," she tried to assure her. "I'm sure it was the purple girl, not Billy."
"Or maybe she was the one to get Billy," Scott muttered. "She'd be quick."
Clara pointed a finger his way with a nod. "Yes. And America hunted her down."
"She must be so upset right now," Kamala whispered, her eyes still wide as she stared up at the now blank night sky. "She really wanted Billy to win."
"Then if she hunted Two down, she's probably feeling a little better," Clara decided. "I know I'd feel better in her shoes."
"We should try to find her next," Kamala said, nodding quietly. "After we find the redhead from One. I'm sure she could use the company."
"That's next up," Scott promised her, and Kamala beamed at him happily.
"Gotta get the rooftop crew back together, right?" Clara said softly to Kamala as she bumped shoulders with her.
"Exactly," Kamala said. "Plus, I just can't imagine doing this alone. That would be too hard."
"Yeah, we lucked out," Scott said with a little smirk before he offered Kamala his hand to help her stand back up. "Come on, let's see if we can find Jean."
Clara tried to give the girl a kind smile, but when she passed Scott, it was clear she was uncomfortable with how this was shaping up. What the heck were they going to do when it came down to just the 'good' kids?
He met her gaze for a moment, frowned, and then cleared his throat. "Think we're getting close, Clara?" he asked.
"Yeah, probably," she said. "There are a lot of footprints of the right size going through that funnel — back and forth … smaller, light tracks."
"Did you learn all this stuff from Logan? I saw him in the Games last year doing lots and lots of tracking," Kamala said.
"A little bit?" Clara said. "But to be honest, I just really love animals. I used to spend a lot of time in the woods — finding them, following them." She turned Kamala's way with a little smile. "I used to bottle-feed baby deer when they were orphaned, and I had a pet wolf back home."
"A wolf?" Kamala stared at Clara, wide-eyed. "Isn't that dangerous?"
"Not if you raise them from pups," she said with a little frown as she crossed her arms over her chest and tipped her nose up slightly. "Victor gave it to me."
"Victor Creed… gave you… a puppy." Kamal just stared at her.
"Yes," Clara replied with a little laugh. "My brother did something nice for me. Let it be publicly known."
"We're just going to have to move on now, because my brain isn't wrapping around this conversation anymore," Kamala announced, shaking her head, waving both hands, and looking so sincere in her confusion that Scott had to smirk outright.
"Will it make you feel better that by letting the world know that he's probably entirely mortified?"
Kamala paused to consider it and then started to giggle. "Okay, yeah. A little better."
Clara smirked her way and started to head down the trail. It took her another ten minutes to get them to a spot that she decided would be 'the' spot to set up Kamala's traps, and once they were there, Kamala was distracted from all thoughts of the Creed family dynamics as she made herself busy.
While Kamala was engrossed in her trap, Clara leaned close to Scott to whisper so she wouldn't overhear. "We have a problem, handsome. What do we do when it boils down to just the good kids? Draw straws?"
Scott turned her way with a small frown. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've run it in my head a few times, and the only kids that weren't on that rooftop with us, besides Jean, are Five and Ten. I guess we'll just… start there."
She nodded lightly but didn't take her gaze off of Kamala. "I'm not going to kill you two."
"The same goes for me, so I guess… we're stuck," he admitted. He took in a breath and dropped his tone to an even lower whisper as he added, "If it comes down to just the three of us, though — they're not going to let Logan's tributes win. You or me."
"I know," she said. "Unless we fight for it, that won't happen."
"And I'm not fighting you for it."
"Of course not," she said with her nose scrunched up a bit. "We can't fight in front of the little one."
"If you start teaching her to call you 'Mom,' I may just have to leave," he said with a little smirk.
"You'd leave us?" she teased. "And … I don't have to. She's been doing it for days."
"Really?" He raised both eyebrows and glanced Kamala's way.
"You didn't hear her, 'Dad'?"
"She must like you better," Scott smirked.
"Of course, I'm her Games 'Mom'."
"You two are never going to let that die, are you?" he asked, shaking his head, though he couldn't quite stow the smirk.
"Not by choice, no." She looked over her shoulder and bumped him with her hip. "Time to find a spot to ambush."
"Still want me to play bait?" he asked, this time with a more serious expression, easily transitioning from the teasing into their plan.
"Maybe not out in the open until I know if she has those arrows," she replied, but then paused. "Of course, if her aim is as good as you said it is, she's got a better chance of hitting me while she's aiming for you."
"Hard to aim when it's that dark and you've got a fire in your line of sight," Scott said diplomatically.
"Well, that's what you get for being a drama queen," Clara said before she popped up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss for luck. "Don't get shot, cutie."
He stared at her for a moment, still not entirely sure what to do with her, before he shrugged his shoulders up self-consciously and headed a little further down toward where Jean was camped out — her solitary fire easy enough to spot even when she was tucked back into a corner of the ridges.
Scott approached the fire warily and then, once he felt like he was close enough, he called out, "Hello? Who's there?"
Jean looked up, surprised to hear his voice, and not trusting it in the least. But then again … what were the chances that he would have found his friends when he was blinded? The fact that he was even there was something. She picked up her bow and arrows and tried to walk as quietly as she could to get a better visual on him.
Even in the dark, he had his hands up by his eyes, and she saw him stumble against the side of an outcropping that was wider at about hip height than at the ground level, letting out a little 'umph' as he did so.
She smirked a bit at that and strung an arrow as she walked down the path to get closer. "Scott? How did you get here?"
He positively froze on hearing her voice. "Jean?" he asked, though his tone was hard to place.
"I thought you were in some … crevice somewhere … pinned in the rocks," she said. She couldn't help but smile wider as she looked him over. "But you look pretty good for someone in your condition."
"I really wouldn't know," he said with a bit of heat. "What, have you been following me? Here to finish the job?"
She couldn't help but laugh a bit at that. "You found me, remember?"
"Wouldn't put it past you."
"Oh, don't be sore," she said with a clear smile in her voice. "If this was anywhere but the Games, you and I could have a good time. But … I want to win."
He was backing up the way he'd come, one arm shielding his eyes and the other thrown out behind him as he felt his way backward. "Yeah, I got the memo."
She lowered the bow and started to walk toward him. "Put your arm down; I want to see your face."
But as she took one more step, the trap Kamala had laid out for her snapped around her, lifting her upside down and high in the air as she was netted, her bow clattering to the ground where she dropped it in surprise.
Scott lowered his arm at last, glaring at her behind the red-lined glasses as she stared at him through the net. He walked very slowly toward the bow and picked it up, taking a good step back from the net once he had it in his hands. He didn't say another word, but Jean couldn't help staring back at him — surprised that he had managed to get such a sponsor gift but also shocked that he could be so angry with her when she had him almost eating out of her hand before.
Clara came up beside him with a little glare in place for Jean, and when Scott had the arrow nocked and drawn back, she said very quietly, "Got it where you want it?"
He nodded. "Not much of a shot with these glasses yet."
"Well if you're sure? I've got a match," she said as she sparked it and held it to the end of the arrow.
Scott was simply holding his breath, not moving his aim in the slightest until he finally let the arrow fly. He'd somehow managed to hit where he had been aiming — though he was sure he'd never be able to duplicate it — and the arrow pierced the center of Jean's chest.
But once the flames hit her quiver and the accelerant in it, the whole thing went up in a massive fireball that had all three of the members of the small Seven alliance shielding their eyes and ducking back for cover as one final screech rent the night.
"Oh… man," Kamala said quietly as Scott dropped the bow with a clatter.
Clara rested her hand on Scott's shoulder but didn't say a word even as the cannon went off in the distance — and he jumped at the sound.
After a moment or two, Clara didn't even ask him what he was thinking or what he wanted to do; instead, she simply took his arm and led him away with a tip of her head for Kamala to join them.
24. Monet St. Croix, District Eleven Female, Killed by Arkady Gregorovitch
23. Jessica Jones, District Five Female - Killed by Zebediah Kilgrave
22. Skurge, District Four Male - Killed by Clara Creed
21. Brian Braddock, District Two Male - Killed by Giuletta Nefaria
20. Giuletta Nefaria, District Three Female - Killed by Elizabeth Braddock
19. Alex Summers, District Nine Male - Killed by Brock Rumlow
18. Brock Rumlow, District Six Male - Killed by James Barnes
17. Arkady Gregorovitch, District Ten Male - Killed by Remy LeBeau
16. Amora, District Four Female - Killed by Clara Creed
15. Gwen Stacy, District Eight Female - Killed by a long fall
14. Zebediah Kilgrave, District One Male - Killed by Yuriko Oyama
13. Remy LeBeau, District Eight Male - Killed by Gamemakers' mutts
12. Trevor Slattery, District Three Male - Killed by America Chavez
11. Billy Kaplan, District Twelve Male - Killed by Gamemaker poison
10. Elizabeth Braddock, District Two Female - Killed by Yuriko Oyama
9. Jean Gray, District One Female - Killed by Scott Summers
