(no subject)

[from_a_distance]

Who: Clint and Open!
What: Clint settling in
Where: mostly at the tribute building but if you want to meet him around town that's cool too!
When: whenever you want
Warnings/Notes: None so far


Clint doesn't like being out of control. He's spent most of his life ensuring that he will always, always have a choice. Even SHIELD, with as much stability as it brought to his life, was something he had multiple exits from, a dozen different ways to disappear if he needed to.

He doesn't have any of that here, and that...

Well, that's more than a problem.

So he spends most of his time doing things that free up his mind to think.

He sits at the edge of the roof, looking over the city, burning the layout into his mind, making what deductions he can from the architecture, the streets, the people he sees down there, going about their business.

Or he goes down to the training center, to the shooting range. What difference does it make now if people know how good he is? Let them know. Let them see him hit bulls-eye after bulls-eye after bulls-eye, dead center perfection every time. Just like Trickshot taught him.

Or he wanders around the city, learning what he can about the people here and their lives, learning how to blend in if he needs to. (They like purple almost as much as he does.)

Or, when he doesn't want to leave his floor, he sits in the lounge area, watching the games. Tony's still alive, and he can't help wanting to know how the man is getting on. It helps that he knows Stark won't stay dead if he dies, but only a little.


[ooc: Feel free to catch him wherever/whenever but please indicate it in the subject line.]

Comments

[big_badass_hero]

Clint's not the the only one on the roof of the training center. The S.T.A.R.S. Gunner is leaning against the wall trying to avoid everything, well okay he was just trying to avoid any of the lunatics in charge before he punched someone. With things on lock down he figured that wouldn't be taken that well.

"You know small part of me wonders how they'd handle a sniper with all the places on these damn buildings to hide. It's a soldier's worst nightmare." He had been watching the other man long enough to see what he was doing.

[from_a_distance]

Clint doesn't turn to look at the other man, just keeps his gazed trained on the city. "What do they need soldiers for? Nobody here's fighting."

[big_badass_hero]

"Of course they don't. they drag us in like we're their damn toy soldiers to fight for their damn entertainment." He huffs.

Chris knows if he had the chance what he'd do. At least if he could remember they're already damned. Just like the poor bastards that got sick back home. Afterwards... well that would be after the fact, and he doubted he'd be able to handle the monster he'd be by then.

[from_a_distance]

"If you're looking for an argument there, you came to the wrong guy."

[big_badass_hero]

"Naw just blowin' off steam." He chuckled a little. "I'm Chris."

[from_a_distance]

"Clint." He glanced over at the other guy. "Nice to meet you, I guess."

[retrieverchef]

Eliot had gone down to the training level to unleash his anger and frustration on the dummies and punching bags down there. He'd hoped for more than a few hours respite from the city. Instead, he'd been injured by a kid, killed by someone who'd tried to help him, and now they'd brought his pseudo-little sister in, too. He looks up at the sound of an arrow hitting a target but doesn't say anything yet. He glares at the punching bag and unleashes another round of hits at it.

[from_a_distance]

Clint is aware of the other man in the room, but it hardly matters that he's there. It's good actually. It gives him something to block out.

He shoots through the entire quiver and then goes to retrieve the arrows, moving back to the line to shoot through them again, faster this time, shots coming in rapid succession and arrows landing one on top of the other, dead center.

[retrieverchef]

Eliot steps away from the punching bag as the other Tribute retrieves the arrows. He brushes his hair out of his face. "You're good." It's an honest compliment. He might be an expert with a gun but he's never seen an archer this good.

[from_a_distance]

"Yeah, I know," Clint says. It's not exactly smug, more matter of fact. He is good. He's the best. Said so on the posters.

He nods toward the punching bag. "What'd he ever do to you?"

[retrieverchef]

Just like Eliot was the best in his field. It wasn't something he needed to brag about. And it wasn't like he could actually work here.

He looked back at the punching bag and smirked. "He's there and he's not alive."

[from_a_distance]

"Good enough reason, I guess," Clint says with a smirk. "It's way more satisfying when they punch back, though."

[candy_grrl]

It was a hallway in the Tribute living quarters.

No doubt he was just minding his own business, when Gretel steps out from around a corner. When she sees him, it looks like her heart has stopped. "Hansel!"

Wait, wait, is she trying to hug him?

[from_a_distance]

Oh, she sure is. And Clint sure is grabbing her shoulders to fend it off.

"Whoa, whoa. That's sweet and all, but I usually like to get to know a girl before getting my hug on..."

[candy_grrl]

She seems shocked, genuinely shocked, that he doesn't know her.

"What the hell did they do to you?" she asks in dismay as he blocks her.

"Hansel. It's me. Gretel. Your sister."

[from_a_distance]

She's really pretty damn lucky he didn't think she was attacking him.

"Just back off there, missy. A) my name is Clint, and b) I don't have a sister. So obviously we got some kinda mix up here."

[candy_grrl]

He's really pretty damn lucky he didn't try himself.

She stares at him like he's Captain Crazy for a moment, and then stares at his wrist. "Your timer." she murmurs, "You don't have it." And it's life or death without it.

Back to staring at him. "You look exactly like him. Exactly." She shakes her head. "But you don't talk like him." She's visibly distressed, but her gut is telling her no, this isn't Hansel.

Abruptly she shifts to the side, out of his way, but does not apologize.

[pinklady]

Her Mentors had told her to go down to the Training Center. She'd find useful things there, they said. Ways to make sure she survived and didn't get killed again so easily.

She didn't care for that. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be in her mother's arms, she wanted to wake up in her bed with her cat sleeping beside her. Or at the least find a way to transform and stop the madness.

She was near the sword station when she saw the man. Her blood froze when she realized who it was, and she went to turn to run off.

It wasn't fair. She couldn't face her victim. But unfortunately, she ran right into the sword station, and the impact caused the sword rack to fall over to its side, weapons flying everywhere with loud, audible clangs.

Damnit!

[from_a_distance]

[ooc: >.> I am so looking forward to answering this, but do you mind if I wait until we see how the death plays out? :)]

[pinklady]

((OOC: No problem! Just ping me when you need Chibi in the post for that. XD))

[hasacondition]

It's not so much that he wants to watch the game as that he can't help himself, and if he's going to be doing it anyway, he might as well do it with people around to distract him.

Normally it's been smalltalk to distract himself from what's going on on the screen mixed in with a healthy dose of making fun of Tony, but today he's got a better source of info.

"You should have told me. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Someone left a copy of Celebrus around.

[from_a_distance]

Clint rolls his eyes (mostly) good-naturedly. "Yeah, didn't I mention? I've always wanted to be the Jolly Green Giant."

[hasacondition]

"You can have him, if you want," he says, like it's a joke, and plops down on the couch. "So, what'd this Bruce Wayne guy do? The rest of us I understand, but..."

[from_a_distance]

"Hell if I know," Clint says. "I don't even know the guy."

[hasacondition]

"Now, why would the good people at the Celebrus lie to us about something like that?" he asks with a smile, turning the magazine cover around at him.