I'll trade the moon for the sun;

[soldieronwards]

Who| Bucky Barnes [616] (soldieronwards), Matt Murdock (guardiandevil), Natasha Romanova (assassinat), and Skye (risewithit)
What| Adventures on the run.
Where| After the prison breakout, in one of Jolie's drag clubs.
When| The four days following breaking Natasha out from prison.
Warnings/Notes| Possible references to torture and other violence.

The plan goes off flawlessly. It's almost enough to make Bucky worry that it was too easy. He would worry, really, if not for how glad he is that Natasha is all right and so is everyone who went in to rescue her.

Skye interferes with the security as well as she can in the limited time frame they have, which is enough to impress him. Bucky and Matt make their way into the prison to pull Natasha out, and Natasha herself stops only to rough up a guard on the way out. Bucky doesn't ask her why. He has a few guesses, all of them boiling down to the certainty that the guard in question had it coming.

When it's time to flee the prison, all four of them have to go together. There's no more operating apart, taking direction from above. There's only the quick, quiet flight through the sewers; the emergence into an alleyway where they all cover up their faces; the hurried flight to the club where the stylist told them they'd be safe, for a time.

At that point, it's oddly anticlimactic to find themselves in the back corridors and dressing rooms of a drag club. The glitz and glamor could not be more different than the atmosphere of the prison. Welcome back to the Capitol, Tributes.

But at least it means they can be themselves again--or rather, they can put on different masks. They can joke around and exchange information casually. They can let down their guard just a little--as much as any of them ever do.

Comments

[risewithit]

When the time had come, there'd been a part of Skye's brain that had wondered if she was crazy. It's hard not to feel a little self-conscious, company considered, but the way she figures, Fury already considers Coulson an honorary Avenger so it's not like she hasn't been one degree separated from Kevin Bacon this entire time.

And all in all? It wasn't any harder than taking out Centipede.

Once they're safely tucked away in the club, she tucks herself in at a corner of the bar and nurses a low-alcohol drink, checking every local network on her device she can access for news. There were other teams that went in, she'd noticed; she hopes they got away okay.

There's a weird pang in her chest, something she's not familiar with until she spots a weird piece of Capitol tech in the corner of her eye and smiles. Fitz would love that, she thinks, and that's when it registers: what she's feeling is homesickness. This is the first mission she's ever run without her team. Her family.

sorry for the lateness :c

[guardiandevil]

The night club has a strange smell to it. Alcohol, make-up, various other toiletries, all mingled together with the stench of the sewer that the four of them won't be able to scrub off for days. It makes Matt's guts twist a little with each breath he takes, but he can ignore it all, so long as they're all safe. And for now, they're safe.

Unfortunately though, even a blind man can see they're going to stick out like sore thumbs in this place. Natasha may be a master of disguise, and this new friend of theirs, Skye, might work for SHIELD, but Matt's not exactly the best at hiding his identity (just check out the newspapers back home.) Luckily though, the queens at the club seemed more than willing to play dress up with a life-sized Ken doll, and after disappearing for a spell, Matt returns to the bar in what he's assuming is a suitable disguise.

He takes a seat next to Skye. "You're quiet. Is that just how you are, or is something bugging you?"

i'm even more late so no worries c:

[risewithit]

She waves her device at Murdock, then remembers, wow, you're trying to visually show something to a blind man, Skye, you asshole. "Still running back end. Looking for any chatter that says we should go," she explains, pitching her voice so it's just loud enough for him to hear but not too loud to be over heard.

The music is painfully loud, each beat of the bass throbbing through her as sensation more than sound. Skye prefers the silence of a quiet room, the soft humming of computers in the background. But it's still city noise, noise she grew up on, and she can slip into this new skin enough to put on a facade of feeling comfortable.

Work doesn't care if you're comfortable or not.

[guardiandevil]

The thumping of the bass was enough to give Matt a throbbing, splitting headache. He could feel the music vibrating up his spine, rattling in his skull, shaking his teeth at the roots, not to mention the discomfort associated with his heightened senses. He had to ignore it for now, though. Now wasn't the time or the place to bitch about being uncomfortable, not when so much was at stake.

"You're pretty good at this breaking and entering stuff." He shifted in his seat, trying to get used to the atmosphere and his new costume. "It's a good thing we had you with us tonight, otherwise we'd never have gotten out of there in one piece."

Matt was good at what he was good at. Stealth he could manage, but ninjutsu was a whole other sphere than modern day espionage.

[assassinat]

Homesickness is a feeling so foreign to her that Natasha doesn't pick up on it initially. The rest of her body language tells a story and that's what she focuses on, albeit a bit intrusively if Skye's the type to pick up on that. Only after a few minutes of brief glimpses does Natasha finally approach her and even so it's still with the bandages around her face.

They won't stay for long, but for now she's more focused on hiding her comrades. She may know little of this woman, but if she's trusted by the ones who came to help her, she would extend the same branch of trust warily. What better way to study someone up close than to speak with them? She's not exactly in the mood to have a conversation, but thanks were in order.

"Not much of a drink, is it?" She's Russian, it can't be helped that the first thing to come to mind is to comment on that low-alcohol.

[risewithit]

It's a foreign feeling to Skye too, and it sits heavily in her chest like a stone. She found a home for the first time, found a family, and it keeps getting taken away from her. She misses Coulson's steadiness, May's quietude, Simmons's enthusiasm, Fitz's eagerness, even Trip's calm humor, even Koenig's cheerful mistrustfulness. There's a part of her that even misses the person she thought Ward was, but that was all a lie.

This is how normal people feel, she thinks. This is what it's like to have a family and be taken away from them.

She's just taking a sip from her drink when Romanoff approaches her and speaks. Skye lets the sweet fruit flavors roll over her tongue, swallows, and answers. "Not much of a good time to get wasted. If anybody asks, just say I'm the designated driver."

And in return, she studies the other woman right back. Natasha Romanoff is a legend in SHIELD, even a level one agent knows that much, and that's not even getting into Skye's personal suspicions about New York and the one woman army on a six-person team.

"We haven't officially met. I'm Skye." She holds out her hand to shake.

[assassinat]

If there was anything peculiar about the phrase "officially met", it doesn't show in Natasha's eyes. Easy enough to assume it was because she was dragged into this by one of the other boys, but who? Matt's not the type to ask for help, so it must have been Bucky.

Expecting better of him might be a bit unreasonable seeing as he's a man and men always lose their cool when it comes to their dear ones being caught.

"Skye, is it?" A moniker or her real name, Natasha's not sure. She doesn't seem like a Skye, but not everyone lives up to their name. "Natasha--though I'm sure you already know that."

[risewithit]

The truth, as it always is, falls somewhere in between: because she's the one who approached Barnes offering to help, and if he had refused she would have found Rogers, or Stark, or Thor, or worse, found a way to get involved all on her own. Because if there's one thing Skye can't stand, it's to sit on the sidelines when she could be helping do something important.

That rash impulsiveness is going to get her shot again one of these days, and soon.

"I do," she concedes. "That's why I signed on. I've heard a lot about you--or, uh, other you. My world's you."

[assassinat]

"So it's something of that nature."

Leave it to Natasha Romanova to be chill when she's told about her other self. Others are often surprised, ultimately nosy, but she doesn't seem too interested in the accomplishments (or lack thereof) of the Natasha that this one has come to hear of.

The shake of the hand is brief, but firm. Even after being held captive and beaten, she can still maintain her composure where it counts. And yes, meeting someone for the first time in a proper introduction counts.

"Give James a hour and I'm sure he'll fill it all about me. He's something of a fanboy, I believe Panem calls them."

Even if she's outwardly showing her exhaustion, it slips through in other ways. Repeating phrases, for starters.

[soldieronwards]

After a while, there's another presence at her side at the bar. His approach isn't really something palpable. Right now, Bucky is almost unconsciously in a stealthy mindset, moving terribly softly, sticking to every shadow, hiding himself in the noise and flash of other people's movements.

Somewhat at odds with this attitude is the huge pair of glittery pink sunglasses with wings flaring out to the sides that he's wearing, as well as the sparkling rainbow boa draped around his shoulders. He hasn't quite had the courage to go all-out, though; under that glitz, he's just wearing black leather jacket and studded jeans (remarkably tight; he couldn't find any comfortable ones here, for some reason).

"You ran a good ship back there."

[risewithit]

Skye has always been aware of her own body and the bodies of others around her--she had to learn it as a self-defense mechanism growing up--and since she began training as a field agent, that sense has only grown. So when she recognizes him near her she shifts to the side minutely to give him space.

"Hey, thanks," she says, putting her device into standby. Under her easy confidence, there's a thread of nervousness still that he might pick up on: she's still very much the rookie and she knows it. "I could've done more, but there wasn't enough time or resources ATM."

[assassinat]

That guard did have it coming (he only had himself to blame), though the details of why will be left unsaid. Nothing to do with her, everything having to do with how they hurt a younger girl. That's just the way Natasha is at times. While she's nowhere near as destructive as her companions can be when it comes to their well-being, she's lived too many years of her life feeling bitter and the moment she starts to keep track of them, they will pile up in an alarmingly manner only to overwhelm her. So she doesn't pay them any attention and operates on doing what's right for others.

That's the hero's life or some kind of screwed up illusion of it at any rate.

Natasha's not the kind of gal to consider herself a hero, but today she wears a mask just like her brethren back home. It isn't much of one, but the bandages remain around her head so long as she feels she's being denied her privacy. With both James Buchanan Barnes and Matthew Michael Murdock in her general proximity, privacy is a luxury denied to her. Still, she struggles for it by ducking into the dressing rooms. What are the chances they will follow her back there?

If they do, they can find her helping someone tighten a corset around their waist or helping them apply various accessories to their face or nails.

Right now, her mind is a toxic concoction of emotions just ready to unload and she can't risk letting it spill over into her actions. Being caught was a more of a permanent fixture than any scar they may have inflicted upon her, emphasized only when the reality she needed help to escape rears its ugly head. After all the warnings, after making them aware of the dangers that lurk within Panem, they still took it upon themselves to get involved and more importantly, they thought to include an additional set of hands. Now that's three more backs she has to cover and protect, three more faces to make disappear and three more celebrities to have gone missing. How can she accomplish any of this when there are eyes and ears everywhere, when her brain can't speak in another language other than the common tongue and when she has no comrades in a position of power to seek aid from? There are too many unknowns and damn it, she's no hero.

[soldieronwards]

She'll see him in the mirror first as he leans over to hand the nearest queen an elaborate Capitol-style pair of false lashes, casually making small talk as he does so. "You ask me, strobe lights on your eyes doesn't sound like such a good idea. But you gals go ahead and suffer for your art."

And then his gloved hands are on Natasha's shoulders. "You look like a bouquet of flowers in a street full of neon signs, darlin'."

His voice is still casual, but there's that hint of stress to it that only she can easily pick up. He's hiding behind his own masks here, and his right hand trembles just a little against her.

[assassinat]

"Don't tell me of all the things, this atmosphere is what troubles you." She speaks boldly so she doesn't have to speak of her own problems, leaning her head in just enough to let her hair fall against his knuckles.

"If you're afraid I'll get strange ideas here, I assure you the thought has crossed my mind before. Hard to not picture you all dolled up, love."

Especially since she's already gone through the effort to clean up the other Bucky Barnes. Her mind thinks of him briefly, frightened for his well-being as well as the rest of the Avengers. At least she can rest easy knowing none of them were stupid enough to come for her.

"Not bad for a breakout. You did well."

[soldieronwards]

"I always knew you had exotic tastes." His voice is dry, but still lighthearted enough. Better to talk about himself in a glittery dress than to dwell on what's upcoming.

But then she's bringing up serious matters anyway. Well, it's not like he could have avoided them forever. Leaning in a little, he says, "Not just me. Sorry, Nat. It would've been better if I could've taken the whole ordeal on myself, but that wasn't in the cards this time. Too many people here who give a damn about you."

[assassinat]

"Color me surprised that you're still willing to work with others." It isn't as if the dead can continue to work with their teammates and as far as she's concerned, that's what he agreed to do before they ended up here. Work in the shadows, alone, and assist her when needed.

At least he fulfilled that last part well enough. Her pride still feels sore from it all, but there were no opportunities for escape on her own. Even in the chaos of others being rescued, who would stop for a redhead stranger with a score like her's?

"Jealous?"

[soldieronwards]

His hands on her shoulders stiffen a little.

That is what he agreed to do back in their world, isn't it? Work alone, with only Natasha at his side. It seemed like she was all he could possibly need--the only person in the world who truly understood him and knew what to say to him at all times. He'd been all right with it. The shadows had always been the right place for him, somewhere in between and without the pressure of so many eyes upon him, and if he was in them with Natasha at his side, he was home.

But here--here there are no shadows. Everywhere he goes, there's a camera trained on him. What's the point in suffering that alone when there are so many others in the same situation?

"The Gamemakers force my hand," he finally says. "It's almost enough to make me a team player again. What about you?"

[assassinat]

The conversation is already strained, but she can't back down from it now that it has been brought up. Turning the other cheek is one thing, but deflecting from this conversation will be seen as cowardly. Too much of her pride aches so she can't risk alienating it entirely.

"What can I bring to a team here?" Not much, they both know that.

While the question itself is a line cast with bait he'll ultimately chomp down on, this isn't the fish she wants to catch. He has opportunities to swim upstream while she sinks and while he's not opposed to being dragged down with passionate sighs, Natasha's already selfishly anchored herself into her position.

"It's best I keep my distance from the others, you know why that is."