Clint "Hawkeye" Barton ⇢ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pretendtoneedme) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2017-01-19 11:32 pm
pretendtoneedme) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-01-19 11:32 pm
And Way Down We Go
WHO: Clint Barton, whoever
WHERE: Around town, the fountain...
WHEN: Throughout January 19th
OPEN TO: Anyone who wants to encounter him
WARNINGS: Standard mentions of drowning, otherwise TBD, but there'll probably be talk of fighting at the very least. Violent babies.
STATUS: Yes (if this changes, I'll edit)
1) Arrival (Early Morning)
Waking up underwater was pretty much the last thing Clint expected after managing to fall asleep after their rescue – and it was pretty much the worst. Whatever phobias he'd had as a kid had been trained out of him over the course of his life, but there was still a lingering thread of unease about really deep water, since even with as good as swimmer as he was he probably wouldn't be able to escape it fast enough to find breathable air. It didn't ever lock him down or stop him from going on any sort of underwater transport, but he was always just a hair more primed to act when on a sub or a submerged helicarrier. Birds just did better in the air.
So when he woke up not only not where he expected, but underwater, Clint's first reaction was one brief moment of panic before clamping it down, because panic would definitely get him killed and he had a lot to live for to die so stupidly. There was a soft light filtering down from what was probably above him if the pull of gravity was any indication, something looped around his shoulders that felt familiar and so was discarded as not a threat for the moment, and a sense of being pushed up. Whatever was going on here, getting air was the most important thing, and only about a second of orienting himself and taking all of that information in passed before he was following that push and kicking to the surface. Fortunately it wasn't as deep as it looked and he broke the surface only a few moments later, gasping for a clean breath and sculling to the edge of the... fountain? What in the hell...? And why was a fountain so deep...?
Grabbing the rim, Clint hauled himself bodily up and over the side to sprawl on the ground, breathing heavily and waiting for the pressure in his head to even out. Once it did, he was smacked clean in the face with how cold it was, especially for someone who'd gone to sleep in early summer in Africa. It wasn't made better by the fact that he'd managed to fall in a pile of old snow, or that he was only wearing what looked like white scrubs and some decent boots – neither of which he'd ever seen before. (At least the scrubs weren't blue.) Sitting around wasn't going to help anything, and he needed to dry off and warm up before his muscles seized and he got hypothermia. Waiting would do him and anyone else stuck in this situation no good. Pushing himself to his feet, Clint started stumbling to the nearest building that looked like it was inhabited, determined to find some answers.
2) Acclimatization (Early Afternoon)
Absolutely nothing about this place made sense. That was the only conclusion he could come to – it had to be magic, or alien science, or something. How else could a person (group of people, probably) kidnap so many different people from so many different times and worlds and with so many different skillsets? And not have any of them remember how they got here or be able to find a way out? They had to be dealing with something beyond any of their experiences and that, more than anything, was a frightening thought.
But he didn't let it show, because it would do no good. Panicking would just leave them stuck at square one, and so the first step was to canvas the area. It would take him a few days to map the entire place (as much as he could), but for now Clint – now warm, dry, and wearing every speck of clothing that had been in that pack since it was a shock to go from summer to winter – was taking his first walk around the village, ducking into every major building just to see what's going where and start making his mental map. Know where all the hiding places and all the exits are. Don't get stuck in a corner if you can at all help it. Maybe they were trapped in this place, but they didn't need to make it easy for whoever put them there.
3) Analysis (Late Afternoon/Evening)
Maybe it was a dumb idea for his first day, but Clint didn't even try to stop himself from taking a short walk into the woods. He wouldn't go far – monsters or animals or whatever weren't something he wanted to take on without at least a knife he could throw – but it was another resource, another set of potential hiding places, and it sounded like their best chance for food. He hadn't grown up with nothing in the backwoods of the mountains, but he knew how to survive out there and how to best live off the land if he had to. He was good at hunting and he was not good at sitting around and doing nothing (much to the annoyance of the doctors at S.H.I.E.L.D.). Day One was probably too early to jump in like that, especially since he had nothing to hunt with, but he wanted a first look so he could start making some plans.
WHERE: Around town, the fountain...
WHEN: Throughout January 19th
OPEN TO: Anyone who wants to encounter him
WARNINGS: Standard mentions of drowning, otherwise TBD, but there'll probably be talk of fighting at the very least. Violent babies.
STATUS: Yes (if this changes, I'll edit)
1) Arrival (Early Morning)
Waking up underwater was pretty much the last thing Clint expected after managing to fall asleep after their rescue – and it was pretty much the worst. Whatever phobias he'd had as a kid had been trained out of him over the course of his life, but there was still a lingering thread of unease about really deep water, since even with as good as swimmer as he was he probably wouldn't be able to escape it fast enough to find breathable air. It didn't ever lock him down or stop him from going on any sort of underwater transport, but he was always just a hair more primed to act when on a sub or a submerged helicarrier. Birds just did better in the air.
So when he woke up not only not where he expected, but underwater, Clint's first reaction was one brief moment of panic before clamping it down, because panic would definitely get him killed and he had a lot to live for to die so stupidly. There was a soft light filtering down from what was probably above him if the pull of gravity was any indication, something looped around his shoulders that felt familiar and so was discarded as not a threat for the moment, and a sense of being pushed up. Whatever was going on here, getting air was the most important thing, and only about a second of orienting himself and taking all of that information in passed before he was following that push and kicking to the surface. Fortunately it wasn't as deep as it looked and he broke the surface only a few moments later, gasping for a clean breath and sculling to the edge of the... fountain? What in the hell...? And why was a fountain so deep...?
Grabbing the rim, Clint hauled himself bodily up and over the side to sprawl on the ground, breathing heavily and waiting for the pressure in his head to even out. Once it did, he was smacked clean in the face with how cold it was, especially for someone who'd gone to sleep in early summer in Africa. It wasn't made better by the fact that he'd managed to fall in a pile of old snow, or that he was only wearing what looked like white scrubs and some decent boots – neither of which he'd ever seen before. (At least the scrubs weren't blue.) Sitting around wasn't going to help anything, and he needed to dry off and warm up before his muscles seized and he got hypothermia. Waiting would do him and anyone else stuck in this situation no good. Pushing himself to his feet, Clint started stumbling to the nearest building that looked like it was inhabited, determined to find some answers.
2) Acclimatization (Early Afternoon)
Absolutely nothing about this place made sense. That was the only conclusion he could come to – it had to be magic, or alien science, or something. How else could a person (group of people, probably) kidnap so many different people from so many different times and worlds and with so many different skillsets? And not have any of them remember how they got here or be able to find a way out? They had to be dealing with something beyond any of their experiences and that, more than anything, was a frightening thought.
But he didn't let it show, because it would do no good. Panicking would just leave them stuck at square one, and so the first step was to canvas the area. It would take him a few days to map the entire place (as much as he could), but for now Clint – now warm, dry, and wearing every speck of clothing that had been in that pack since it was a shock to go from summer to winter – was taking his first walk around the village, ducking into every major building just to see what's going where and start making his mental map. Know where all the hiding places and all the exits are. Don't get stuck in a corner if you can at all help it. Maybe they were trapped in this place, but they didn't need to make it easy for whoever put them there.
3) Analysis (Late Afternoon/Evening)
Maybe it was a dumb idea for his first day, but Clint didn't even try to stop himself from taking a short walk into the woods. He wouldn't go far – monsters or animals or whatever weren't something he wanted to take on without at least a knife he could throw – but it was another resource, another set of potential hiding places, and it sounded like their best chance for food. He hadn't grown up with nothing in the backwoods of the mountains, but he knew how to survive out there and how to best live off the land if he had to. He was good at hunting and he was not good at sitting around and doing nothing (much to the annoyance of the doctors at S.H.I.E.L.D.). Day One was probably too early to jump in like that, especially since he had nothing to hunt with, but he wanted a first look so he could start making some plans.
Greetings
"It's me," Sam replied, not sure how else to answer that. "Let me guess. You just climbed out of a fountain and you're scouting the place?" He glanced at the destroyed house and shook his head, "I heard you were in to home improvement projects, but I think that might be pushing it a little."
no subject
But that could wait. Clint maneuvered around the piles of lumber that had fallen whichever way and not been cleaned up, not wanting to put a foot wrong and turn his ankle his very first day here, but it wasn't like that was all that hard for someone with his training to do. "Climbed out a couple- few hours ago, yeah. You too or you been here awhile?" He's letting the small joke about home improvement projects slide for the moment, because Sam's a reliable source of info and he needs all he can get right now.
no subject
Sam crossed his arms, thinking back to his own arrival six months prior. He added, "Which, as far as we can tell, is as long as anyone else has been here. This place was completely empty of people when a big group of us first crawled out of that fountain."
no subject
Okay, so he's not always eloquent. Point stood.
But at the same time, Sam looks... well, not better, but not like he did during the bustout of the Raft. The series of cuts and scrapes Clint was sporting when they got out was still there over his left cheekbone, half-healed but still there, and Sam would know what it was from. But for six months of playing Mountain Man, Sam didn't look all that bad really. Seemed he had a pair of scissors, at least. "How big? What all can you tell me?" Clint wanting to know everything wasn't surprising - he was a spy, of course he wanted to know everything. But Clint trusted him to pass on what he knew.
no subject
He actually had to think about that one. It'd been awhile since he thought about that first day here, sometimes it was a bit of a blur because it was so long ago and so much had happened since then. "There were less than 20 of us...maybe fifteen tops," he said.
Sam smirked a little, "Where do you want me to start? Six months is a lot to cover."
no subject
Clint just shook his head at the reported number. It was both bigger and smaller than he anticipated, but at the moment it didn't matter so much. What mattered was what was happening now.
"Don't make me quote Sound of Music at you, Wilson, I hate that movie. Start with the basics and move out." Sam was a military man - he should know how to give a good briefing. "How many people are here now, what kind of intel do you all have, anyone trying to kill each other or do we get a break from that at least?"
no subject
"Right. Should we do this out here or can we at least get out of the cold first? I was actually on my way to feed the goat I've got stashed in the police station." Now there was a sentence that he never thought he'd say or words that he would even string together in a coherent sentence, yet here they were.
no subject
But Clint blinked at that, not bothering to hide the surprise on his face. Because... really? Are you serious, Wilson? "Did those words in that order really just come out of your mouth?" There was a goat in the police station?
no subject
"Yes, they did, because as I said a lot happened since I got here. 'sides it's not like the police station was being used for anything else," he said, as if THAT was the strangest part of his statement. He knew it wasn't, but it still amused him to mess with Clint like that.
He tossed his head in the direction of the station, not actually too far from their current location actually. "Come on. I'll show you. I can't take all the credit though--Peggy helped."
no subject
Clint shook his head at that, taking Sam's cue and starting to walk. "Whole village around here and not one barn, huh. We don't have animals but we still have a barn, you know. And who's Peggy?"
no subject
Although those things hadn't really bothered him at first. The thing that had really bothered him was another object that was missing. "I didn't really think about those things at first though...the really troubling thing to me was the lack of any written records. We arrived and I couldn't find a single letter, book, or diary left by anyone who might have been here before. But, the place looked like it had been lived in or at least like a 'ghost town' kind of lived in," Sam explained. It wasn't that it had been abandoned recently is what he was getting at -- but when they'd arrived there had been signs of SOME habitation. Why else would there be beds, curtains, and farm animals roaming the woods?
Oh right, and the other thing that made this place weird. "I'd say it's going to be hard to believe...but given everything else," he trailed off and then started over, "Peggy Carter is here. The Peggy Carter...from before SHIELD was even SHIELD, if I'm placing her age right anyway." It was certainly the woman in the picture at the funeral and not the older woman who Steve had to bury. Sam didn't like thinking about that fact much, at least, now that he knew her and considered her a friend.
no subject
"...Peggy Carter's dead, Sam," he said, more gently than some people would attribute to him, but not soft. "You were at her funeral." He remembered Peggy from the few, brief times he'd met her when he'd joined the agency - even back then she'd been tough as nails, though with a subtle, growing frailty.
no subject
Speaking of which, it seemed this conversation was going to take a difficult turn. Sam breathed out a heavy sigh, because he didn't like to think about the funeral now. "Yeah, I know. That's how I know for sure it's her -- she looks just like the photo they had there," Sam said, his voice certain. It was strange, at the time he'd only gone to support his friend. Give him a shoulder to lean on (or cry on, if needed), but he'd felt fairly detached himself. He knew Peggy Carter had been important to Steve, but Sam had never met the woman himself. He'd read some information about her after joining the team and following Steve -- partly for his own curiosity and partly because she crept up in stories involving the early years of SHIELD and, of course, Bucky. But looking back on that event now, well, it was hard. He liked Peggy, probably more than he wanted to admit, but he knew there was nothing to pursue there. Nothing to do but work on returning to their own times and figuring things out after that.
"The fountain bringing us here doesn't seem to care about that...like I said, she's from early in her career...though after Steve got put on ice," he hadn't exactly asked her the specifics, but from piecing things together, well, that's what he could guess. "And she's not the only one who seems to be from the past," Sam tries to explain. "Besides, didn't we just establish that I've been here six months, but I'm going to guess you just saw me a few minutes or so before arriving here right? This place is pretty messed up." Understatement, Sam? He knew it, but it apparently needed repeating.