The Marvel Games {An Avengers/Hunger Games Crossover}

Chapter 8: Day 1: The Arena

Chapter 8: Day 1: The Arena

I didn’t sleep that night. I was too shocked to even comprehend what had happened.

I was the first Civilian in Marvel Games history to score above an eight. I had the same score as Bruce. The Hulk! How the hell had they come up with that?

My only conclusion was that the Council was punishing me. Again.

The press coverage after my score announcement was astounding. Magazines, newspapers and television shows were calling Clint and my stylist team, asking then questions and for interviews with me before I finally entered the arena. Tributes were allowed to have interviews as long as their trainer approved of it. So far, I hadn't had any interviews but I knew Nora and Ryan had had at least four while Jackson and Lucas had had about six. I'd mainly been focusing on preparing, getting my mind set on what I was going to have to do in the arena.

What was waiting for me in there?

What horrors could the Council have possibly concocted this year?
 
"Time Magazine wants an interview, Barton!" Temperance exclaimed with a phone clucked between her hands, blocking the microphone.
"Tell them no." I answered for him before he could even open his mouth. I didn't want any interviews. I'd seen the odds now, everyone was voting for me to be the last tribute standing and I didn't want any of it. I didn't want to have the label 'highest ranked Civilian Tribute in Marvel Games history.' If I had the option I would have given that title to Ryan -or even Jackson, so he would shut up.
 
Jackson was another problem entirely compared to the interviewers. Every hour on the hour he'd knock on my door and ask me how I did it. How I'd beat the system, or cheated. How I'd outranked him. It had gotten to the point where Clint had aimed an arrow at his head for bothering us.
 
"Isn't there some way I can pull out?" I moaned with my head in my hands.
"You can die, but you and I both know you don't want that." Saxon pried my hands from my face and held them within his own. He cocked his head towards Clint who was on the phone to another member of the press.

"I just want a way out. Maybe I can bargain with Loki? Ask him to pull me out of the competition and he can just give me something else to do." I suggested ludicrously, Saxon gave me a look that said 'I seriously doubt that you have a speck of sanity right now.'
 
"I know, it's hopeless. There is no hope at all right now. Maybe I should just step off the platform before the horn sounds." I grumbled and Clint glared at me, having out the phone down so he could hear the nature of Saxon and I's conversation.
"You can't," He stated, taking Saxon's place in front of me. "Look, all the Council wants is a show. People root for the ones they like. We both know that Loki is trying to punish you for what you did, but that doesn't mean you have to give in. Everyone likes an underdog."
"But I'm not an underdog!" I exclaimed, "I'm at the top. With Bruce. People are going to expect a show down between me and him and I'm going to end up dead within seconds!"
"Bruce won't hurt you." Clint grabbed my face and stared into my eyes. "You have Johnny, remember that. He may be an ass at times but he's a good hero. If, for some reason, you two get separated or he dies, join forces with Tony if he's still around."
"Why?" I asked. Tony and I hadn't spoken at all about alliances, and I was pretty sure he was in one with Bruce. It was the obvious choice.
"Just do it." Clint pleaded with me and I nodded.
 
* * *
I didn't sleep that night but I stayed with Clint in his bed while he slept with his arms around me. I felt safe with him; like I couldn’t forget that I was about to go into the biggest life or death situation in history.

* * *

The morning was a rush. I was whisked back to the room where my journey started. The white room was still white but instead of the hospital bed and strange contraptions that had been used to make me beautiful, only a rack with a single navy blue jumpsuit with the red number ‘5’ on the back and again, but smaller, on the left side of my chest.