The Binding of Isaac

[gamemakers]

Who| All those who signed up for the plot!
What| Capitol rebels attempt a break in and dismantling of dangerous weaponry.
Where| In a warehouse just beyond the very end of the cityline
When| Some time following Arena 13
WARNINGS| Please specify warnings in tag headers.
NOTES | Remember that if you did not sign up, it will be assumed you are not participating in the plot. Plotting can be found here! IC plotting is here!

Comments

THE RETURN

[gamemakers]

The Mission is over. Whether it was enough to save District Thirteen and stop the Capitol remains unclear. Regardless of it being worth it or not, now is the time for people to heal and hide what injuries they gained, for disguises to be removed, and for reunions to be had.

If there is in fact someone to reunite with.

Merlyn: Collector/Healer | Open

[knittingbackwards]

For all his studied steadiness, Merlyn was not a patient man, and he struggled to keep himself still with everything else he knew was going on. Once he'd dropped off the last of his parcels - it was remarkable how easy it was to go unnoticed as a senile old man, even one prone to anti-Capitol speech - he settled himself down near one of the blindspots, and started to knit furiously. It was something to do. As he knitted, he muttered, the picture of a grumpy, but ultimately harmless, old codger.

But the moment he saw someone approach, he was on his feet, knitting tossed aside. "Well?" he demanded, looking them up and down.

Re: Merlyn: Collector/Healer | Open

[medecin]

"Well." Joly, having been in the midst of organizing pilfered supplies, stepped over to give Merlyn a quick little nod. "I suppose that now we wait for them to stagger in. You look to be fine, Grandfather," And he winced at the lost language again, and the translation from granmoun, which WAS a little different, though the context remained relatively the same.

"But I do hate to miss things by assuming them. Are you uninjured?"

[knittingbackwards]

Merlyn's dismissive wave of the hand is a pretty clear affirmative. "I do try to keep myself out of situations where I'd get that way, thank you, young man. The trouble with that, of course, being that it leaves us to wait for the by-our-lady idiots to come staggering in, as you say."

[infinitemayonnaise]

Nitou doesn't really look like he needs a healer, not for a few scrapes and bruises. But he's wildly looking around the room, searching for something. He sort of jumps at the question from the old man. "Well...uh..." But there's really only one thing on his mind right now. "...have you seen Haruto anywhere?"

Even if he already knows what the answer's going to be, and that it's not going to be what he wants to hear.

[knittingbackwards]

"Haruto?" One of Merlyn's eyebrows - grey, long, and extremely feathery - quirks, and he peers over his pince-nez at the younger man. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know a Haruto if I fell over it. But if they're a friend of yours, may I suggest that you're best off sitting still and waiting? You'll achieve nothing by agitation, you know." He considers a moment more. "Try knitting. It settles the mind remarkably."

Sandy Marko // healing & Open

[justoutrunyou]

It was one of the most difficult things she had ever done trying to act like nothing was wrong when every cell in her body was screaming that she should be doing something.

But everyone had their jobs, even her. And her job right now was to follow the advice of her mentors.

Stay calm.
Never let them see you sweat.
Don't let them see how bad they're hurting you.

She would idle around the common area of the tower with her tablet pretending to play the latest new game, but her mind was focused on watching for people returning from the mission. They couldn't give way that they were involved in any way and that meant no signs of injury either.

Hopefully Sandy's better understanding of first aid would be enough to help with that.

[earthborn]

It would have been suspicious to limp-- but she was lucky. Today she'd dressed, been dressed in leather and black denim. The blood soaking into the hem of her jeans wouldn't show on-camera. The rest was hidden by the hideous vest that looked more like it'd been torn out of a cowhide than cut, though there was no hiding from the artful placement of the patches, or the sequins therin.

Gotta look hot for a night on the town, right?

But sitting around in bars after a mission, pretending to flirt and pretending to dance, and pretending to drink because as much as something for the pain would have been real damn nice, she needed a clear head for what would come. And what came was:

"Hey, kid. Bar scene's slow tonight, wanna go out for a walk?" A slow-burn swagger under hair she'd spiked in a bathroom sink after washing off the last of the makeup she'd worn as warpaint. Her hands were braced casually in the pockets of her jeans, but that much was a necessary concession-- her shoulder hurt like a bitch, "C'mon, I'll buy you a smoothy."

[justoutrunyou]

Her eyes widened for just a moment when she saw Shepard approaching. Her first thought was "Thank god she's OK." followed up almost immediately by "Oh no, where are we going?"

But she forced a smile and it almost looked completely natural as she slid off the sofa she had been keeping watch from. "Can I get a brownie too?"

Idle small talk, nothing to see here just a scruffy little kid who's been here too long clinging to the affections of one of Panem's most infamous badasses.

They couldn't talk in the Tribute Tower, not really. The only place Sandy felt reasonably safe in the building was the bathrooms and only with the shower turned on. Given what Sandy had volunteered to do for this mission that simply wasn't practical.

So instead they set out into the streets. Nightlife in The Capitol was as busy as ever. A regular party of color and music and people swarming about just generally taking for granted how easy their lives were in the Capitol. Sandy was just a step ahead of Shepard to try and subtly lead her to the closest blindspot.

"I like your hair." She commented offering a smile, her eyes searching for any sort of indication of how good or bad things went. So far she had deduced that if Shepard was still able to walk and talk and act normal those were all good signs.

Closed to Sam

[metalicarus]

Everything had been going so well, it seemed like they'd definitely put a dent in the Capitol's plans and Sam had gone off to take care of Bucky and his friend, he'd be fine. Those last few minutes were hectic, but electricity branched through him as he felt the night air on his face again and Jet kept running right into freedom and that euphoric feeling of having a mission success.

And then came the chirp of the device in his pocket, the sound of a broadcast being sent out. He ducked into an ally, gauging himself far enough away to be as safe as he was going to be and leaned against the wall as he turned on the broadcast. And suddenly a vacuum not unlike space closes in around him.

As quickly as it had rushed through him, the feeling of success and joy and pride is sucked right back out, leaving a void in his chest and a buzzing in his head. The screen is black and Jet numbly shoves the device back into a pocket. The news Sam had given him that Albert might, in fact, be alive and well, the surge of familiar adrenaline born from a mission he didn't realize he was longing for, the feeling he'd had when they'd dismantled those weapons, it's all swallowed in the emptiness and hollow fragility that now choked him. The same feeling that had threatened to suck all the air and life out of him when he'd woken up after the arena.

But he'd been right behind him.

Jet had run and kept running because Initiate was at his back and he trusted his brother would be right there with him all the way out. Even once he'd realized they weren't together anymore, he'd still trusted Initiate had gotten out. If Jet had known, he wouldn't have left, he would have stayed and fought and maybe-- He jolted off the wall and stepped out of the ally with half a mind to run back and bust back in. If he went down fighting for his family, then it'd be worth it!

Except he couldn't. He paused, eyes frozen in the direction of the compound and where Initiate was currently either being arrested or killed...and he stepped back into the ally. There were others in his family, if Albert was really waiting in 13...but even if not, there was Sam who Jet knew had already been hurt by the thought of Albert's loss, Initiate meant the world to them both and if Jet went too--It'd be selfish.

This had been Initiate's choice.

A flashfire of anger saw Jet turning and punching a metal fist as hard as he could into the brick behind him, leaving a noticeable result in it's wake. But then that too is sucked into the void and he simply slips to his knees, arm pressed to the brick and his forehead pressed to his arm. His eyes stung and he tried to blink it away but hot tears still fought their way out and smeared orange and black paint on their way down.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

When he finally leaves Bucky's side, knowing that Bucky's not alone and not wanting to crowd him, there's a part of Sam that still wants to go after Steve and Kurloz. That isn't sure it matters if he knows it's a mission that he can't suceed at, because at least it means he tried.

And he honestly doesn't know what's stopping him. He can't think of a good enough reason not to go, he really can't. Sam keeps trying to remind himself and then what, say he manages to pull it off somehow and get them out - what are they gonna do, where are they gonna go, how are they gonna keep the Capitol from getting them again and doing something worse than whatever they're planning right now.

He isn't very successful. Or at least, it hasn't stopped him from walking, from backtracking through the Capitol alleys, in the vague direction of the compound.

But then he spots Jet, and the crumbling dent in the brick, and he stops.

He heads into the alley instead, dropping down to sit next to Jet, leaning against the wall so heavy that the brick digs into his back and shoulders.

"They got Steve too."

[metalicarus]

When he heard someone else approach, Jet had gone stock still (now just facing the wall rather than leaning against it), waiting to hear if it was a friendly presence or a not so friendly one. But then Sam sat beside him and his tenseness eased a little.

"I saw."

He'd heard the second alert sound and had hastily snatched the device out to see if it was an update from Initiate, something along the lines of 'whoops kidding, we made it out fine.' Instead it'd just been another punch to the gut. He and Steve weren't close, they'd had a handful of conversations, but that had mostly been of Jet's own design. They probably could have been friends, it wasn't like they didn't get along. Captain America was Jet's hero. But that had been the problem.

And now who knew if there'd be another chance to actually manage the kind of conversation Steve deserved, one where Jet's head wasn't buzzing and his heart wasn't hammering and he wasn't constantly tripping over himself like some befuddled teenager, but was treating Steve like the person he was.

The person Sam had known. They'd been close friends, that was obvious to see and now with Steve and Initiate? Jet knew how half of that felt, but he could imagine the whole thing. How Sam hadn't run in there on some fool's hope, Jet didn't know, but he was suddenly intensely glad he hadn't and Jet hadn't as well.

He shifted to sit beside Sam, one hand reaching up to swipe at the tear tracks that were already drying while his other arm slipping around his friend in support and to pull him close if he needed it, just as Sam had done for him.

"I'm sorry."

Joly| Trust him! He's a doctor! ...Kinda

[medecin]

For all that Joly's knowledge of botany, and the medical procedures he learned at home has been useful to him in the arena, it's here that the Capitol's medical training can be put to some decent use. It strikes him as hilarious in some ways, that he's using some of the things he was taught against the Capitol, as he busies himself setting up medical supplies in between offering treatment.

It reminds him of the barricades a little, at least the most recent version of them and he swallows back the idea that he'll have to do things which have no guaranteed success. But this isn't Paris, and this isn't an Arena and he has the proper tools and access to all but the diagnostic machines he doesn't know or understand how to work anyway, though he'd wanted to learn very much.

At any rate, he's no longer an almost doctor, but a student, here with new things to learn ,and new things that he'll be able to use in the practical sense here. Who wants to be his first patient so he can try out his new expertise?

Bruce: Stylist, Healer | Open

[honeyibrokeharlem]

He saw Steve's farewell on the network. He wants to be angry. He breathes and meditates instead.

As soon as everyone's come back, he's the picture of professionalism. "Untreated open wounds get priority. Then broken or dislocated bones. Everyone sit down and make a line. After this is over, I can show you how to hide everything." He's not going to waste time checking if his friends made it back. That can happen later, after he's gotten through these people.

He's methodical and efficient as he sits down with every wounded not attended to by others and patches them up. After that's over, he sits down and styles them again, this time with casual comfortable clothes that draw attention away from their wounds or hides them outright. In a pinch, he uses makeup to hide wounds as well, but mostly depends on clothes.

There's a job to do. He can do it, regardless of how he feels.

For Porrim

[celebrityskinned]

Venus doesn't go looking for a healer. She doesn't know why. Maybe it's because receiving medical care after combat still doesn't come naturally to her, or because she feels like a low priority, but her thoughts are not filled with treatment but with a shower and lying down in her bed in loose-fitting clothes.

She lets a few important people know Four Sugars is alive and well and in one piece, doing a fantastic job of hiding the intense pain in her lower abdomen, and then she retires to her bedroom in the District Five Suite. She bathes and dumbly examines the ring of red and purple bruising that looks like a splash of paint down from her navel to her upper thigh. Her stomach is distended awkwardly under her muscle, like guts and skin aren't working together anymore. She pees and her urine is pink.

She wraps herself in a warm bathrobe and gingerly climbs into bed. She doesn't know all who else was involved in the mission. She didn't organize it, she didn't do anything but take orders. She doesn't know who did all the disguises or if Porrim was one of the Stylists helping out or if she'll just as soon turn a traitor in.

What she does know is that she has too many swimsuit photoshoots coming up to be wandering around with a bruise the size of a toaster. She fondles her network device and takes a leap of faith.

"Porrim? If you're around I need to talk to you."

Re: For Porrim

[fusshionable]

For those of them involved whose roles had only been preliminary, like Porrim, the waiting is hard. She could go home, she could try and sleep in her empty apartment, but she knows that sleep won't come unless she wants to drug herself, and she doesn't want that anyway. She keeps a vigil of sorts instead, whiling away the evening holed up in her suite in the Tower with a book laying open and unread in her lap and her device in her hand.

It's a long wait, and for the most part she's glad that her device stays silent. No news is bad news. And after a long while, it seems she won't hear much, and she even manages to nod off in her armchair. When Venus's message comes, Porrim jerks awake, heard pounding.

"Venus. Hi. I'm here--I'll come to you." She needs to stretch her legs, needs to get out of her suite. She rises, floor-length black knit dress slightly crumpled, and finds her way to Venus's room. Porrim pokes her head in.

"Hey. Everything okay?"

Re: For Porrim

[celebrityskinned]

"I found a new nail polish that totally doesn't match my skin tone. Let me compare it to yours." Venus crooks her fingers to invite Porrim in, to ask for company on the bed, like they're two girls at a slumber party.

She knows that her bedroom is bugged, although she suspects that there isn't video footage of this particular bedroom. She doesn't know how well whispers translate to whatever recording is being taken here. For a moment she considers just pretending this is all she wants Porrim form, a skin swatch, because the idea that Porrim might not be on their side is a terrifying one. Venus knows if she gets tortured, she'll talk. She did before. She'll sell out everyone to make the pain stop, and that's why she was only trusted to know a handful of people on this mission.

She pulls out an arbitrary bottle of polish from by her bedside. "The color is Four Sugars. Have you ever tried it before? The brand has some other really nice selections, like Harlem, Tater Tot..."

Closed to Bucky, Clint, and Shepard

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Almost as soon as he'd gotten word that Clint was injured to the point of Bucky having to haul his ass out, Sam'd headed for them. Maybe he should have had more second thoughts about breaking off from Jet and Kurloz, but - the break in was done, the mission all but accomplished, all that was left to do was get the hell out of dodge. Sam knew where his strengths were, and he'd be more helpful patching Clint up, getting him stabilized enough that they could get back with no one the wiser.

The people collecting had come through with most of what he'd asked for, and he's got a nearly fully equipped med kit with him. It's a hell of a difference from the bare bones shit they got in the arena, that's for sure, and Sam's just real damn glad that running with all his gear had come back to him pretty easy. Even with this disguise.

It doesn't take him long at all before he's nearing their location, and he slows down, keeping an eye out for them.

[tookthewheel]

Once upon a time, when Bucky was the Winter Soldier, he wouldn't have cared about a member of his squad being down. The Soldier had never cared about picking up injured team mate's unless ordered to; more frequently he had shot them himself because attempting to carry them would be inefficient and HYDRA didn't want anyone left behind to talk. The mission had always been the first priority, the lives and wellbeing of those assigned to carry it out came second

This time, when Clint falls, Bucky doesn't even need an order to pick him up. He slung the archer over his shoulders, bearing the weight well as he made his retreat. It had been chaos at that point with everyone trying to pull back.

He still hasn't seen Steve and is trying not to think about that fact. He'll be fine. he had to be.

Bucky puts Clint down against a wall when they make it back to the blindspot. They're going to need a medic to fix this, it's beyond Bucky's limited expertise. "Status?"

[cognitived]

He's pissed off. Yeah, okay, so Clint's pretty damn grateful that Barnes got him up and out of there, he wouldn't have been able to hobble out on this knee without a shit ton of effort and trouble. But a huge part of him is pissed that he was taken down, that someone shoved him and caught him and by sheer luck hobbled him. Far as he can tell, the bones in his leg are whole and intact, which is a goddamn relief.

But it still steals the breath out of him, aches sharp and steady, his leg a fiery burst of agony, leading up his spine, throbbing at the base of his skull. The way Barnes slings him over his shoulder doesn't cut down on the pain, and a sharp sound escapes him, even though he bites through his lip to keep quiet. Even held as he is, in pain and aching, Clint watches their backs. It's the least he can do. So someone looming up out of the blue, gun up and ready, hits him in the lizard part of the brain. Clint shoots before he even thinks about it, a grim satisfaction filling him as the guard falls, missing half his face.

Aside from that, their escape is clean. Or as clean as it can be, here. Barnes holds him easily, moves quick and steady, and soon enough they're sneaking back into the blindspot. Even though Barnes puts him down careful enough to avoid injuring him further, Clint's breath hisses out of him, a pained sound warbling in the back of his throat.

He doesn't feel comfortable enough to let that through, not with Barnes. So instead, Clint shifts and breathes, and steadies his leg out before them. Careful fingers scope out the damage, but he already knows its something they should wait for.

"I'll survive." Alright, bad joke. Clint's gaze slides over, looks Barnes over head to toe, much as he can. "You hit?"

Closed to Sam

[tookthewheel]

The mission is over, Clint is patched up. Bucky has accounted for almost all of his people who participated.

Almost all of them.

Steve isn't back. Neither is the Initiate but of course his priority is Steve, his priority is always Steve. Bucky know it's entirely possibly that something happened to cause them to have to divert their route back and maybe they had to head for a different blindspot to strip out of their disguises and make their way back. Yes, that's a possibility but not the only one. Something feels wrong.

He's pacing now as time ticks onwards, craning his neck to look back and forth. Something's wrong, something's wrong but it's not until he turns on his communicator to check the network that his worst suspicions are confirmed.

The sound that Bucky makes is inhuman. His communicator goes hurtling across the alleyway and impacts with the opposite wall as the sound of Steve's voice is cut off all too soon. They caught him, they fucking caught him! His fist impacts with the wall next, the all too human and vulnerable one, resulting in pain blooming across his knuckles. The left one follows suit and it's not as satisfying as he should be.

Steve had been talking to him. He knows it instantly, every word cut into him, every word that said Don't try and rescue me. All an unspoken order for Bucky to stay put and not do anything stupid, except all Bucky can think of doing is something stupid, like marching right back to the facility and getting Steve out even if it meant getting himself killed in the process.

someone I loved once told me to respect a friend's choice to risk his life for me, to stop blaming myself for his death.

Was that about him too? His death? Was that when Bucky Barnes fell from a train to be remade into a weapon? It hurts so much to think about it, like a ripping pain to accompany the roaring of his own fury in his ears.

He fucked up and failed. Again, he fucked up again. He can't protect Steve, he can't do the one thing he knew Bucky Barnes had always done. Why did he ever leave Steve's side! If he can't do that then what good is he? All he has is rage and fear warring inside him, more at himself than Steve or the Capitol, demanding he go and take action against the very wish Steve had expressed because what they could be doing to him was unimaginable. If they hurt him, if they executed him, if -- if they did to him what they did to Thor... he's not going to forgive himself, he's never going to forgive himself.

Blood is dripping from the knuckles of his hand as he stumbles back from the wall. He has to do something.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Sam’d heard Kurloz’s message first. And he’s not okay, he’s not, nothing is okay, but he’s managing to hold it together. Then he gets the ping of Steve’s message, and that quickly goes to shit.

He feels numb, listening to the words that Steve says. He knows he hears them, knows that he processes them because he can feel the dread growing in him, because he knows a goodbye speech when he hears one, but -

But all he sees is fire, all he hears is gunshots and the whistling of an RPG and explosions, all he smells is burning flesh. Then the post cuts out, and Steve is gone.

And he can’t do anything more now than he could when it was Riley going down in smoke and flames.

His breathing is coming in short, heavy gasps, and dimly he’s aware that he’s hyperventilating, but he can’t stop himself. The network is quiet now, but he can still hear Steve and Kurloz’s voices mixed in with Riley’s screams and Sam wasn’t good enough, now or then. He’d been fooling himself to believe that he could change anything, that he could overcome any of it.

All he’d done was cost himself another partner - partners? - because he couldn’t cut it. At the moment, Sam couldn’t tell anyone if he was in Afghanistan or Panem or who the hell knows where else. His mind is a jumble of two wars and too many people he’d let down, and he can’t figure out if he should be crouching down to avoid gunfire or folding his wings in and chasing down after his fallen wingman or turning around to chase back into whatever Steve and Kurloz had been left with.

The sound of flesh hitting brick, of metal hitting brick, yanks him out of his mixed up flashbacks. It doesn’t belong, and it makes Sam remember where he is. He’d just finished patching up Clint, Bucky was right nearby, and he must have heard the same thing Sam did.

For a horrible moment, he almost leaves. He knows Steve’s words had been directed mostly at Bucky, to keep him from doing something like charging back in to try to rescue Steve, but maybe he didn’t mean Sam. Sam’d thrown himself into so much for Steve, what was one more? What did it matter if it brought Steve back?

He doesn’t have the answers to those questions. And he doesn’t know why he stays, why he turns and walks towards where the sounds had been coming from instead of trying to sneak back into where they’d been. He isn’t thinking logically enough to.

But he stays. He doesn’t go after Steve, he walks around into the alley where Bucky’s stumbling back with bleeding knuckles, and stares at him like he’s trying to remember what’d pulled him here in the first place.

“Bucky?”

[tookthewheel]

"Steve," he says, the name beating inside his head like a drum, or the pulse of his own heart. "They got Steve."

Bucky turns, his fists still clenched tight. The metal one is steady and strong as every but the right, the right hand is trembling with emotion, blood running over his fingers to drip to the ground. "I need to go back and get him."

It's a betrayal of Steve's wishes. It's something the Soldier would never have considered but Bucky Barnes needs to do because he can't leave Steve behind, Steve promised him... he promised him they'd be together till the end of the line. Bucky knew what that meant and he knew, intrinsically, that when the end of the line came it was meant to be both of them together. He's fucked up with that so many times, he can't again.

They can't kill him, they won't. it'd be an avoxing or maybe worse but Steve is popular, he can't be executed.

"I'm going back to get him."

It's not just a back alleyway in the Capitol, it's the streets of Brooklyn, it's a HYDRA factory in war-torn Europe with a pit of fire between them. That didn't stop them then, this can't stop him now.

Closed to Terezi

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Right now, Sam knows that he needs to not be alone. He's not exactly sure what he'll do if he is alone, if he doesn't have something to focus on - someone to focus on - but he knows it won't be anything good.

There's not shortage of people who're willing to look after Bucky, to keep him company, to try to get him through this. They're a team, and they're pulling together, and on any other day that'd be enough to make him feel something. And maybe it still does, he just - doesn't know what.

It's not important. He doesn't want to be alone, and he's pretty sure there's a couple of other people that shouldn't be alone, either. And Terezi is top of that list. He's only recently met her, yeah, but he knows what she means to Kurloz, and he knows what Kurloz means to her.

So a while after Kurloz's message played for them, after he's left Bucky and Jet, Sam goes looking for her.

[pythianjudgment]

Kurloz's message had been a nightmare. A worst-case, heart-wrenching nightmare that Terezi desperately wanted to be untrue. She had managed to hold it together long enough to see through the end of the mission, but afterwards, she'd fled the blindspot that she shared with Bruce.

Her heart was thudding in her chest as she searched for any returning allies, trying to ward off any thoughts of execution, official or otherwise. Someone had to know what really happened. Maybe someone went back for him. Maybe he managed to escape. But even if he did, then what? The entire network saw that broadcast. They all knew what he had done.

She tries not to imagine them finding him, putting a bullet through his head before he gets a chance to speak. She tries not to imagine all the executions she's witnessed, but she's a little too tense and a little too wide-eyed not to be.

She finds Sam--or maybe Sam finds her, the order doesn't really matter to her. He's a friend of Kurloz, and if anyone could tell her what she needed to know, she hopes it would be him. She latches her hand onto his arm as soon as she's close enough, as if bracing herself for the news. "Where is he? What happened?"