lucetilogs | EVENT LOG: SCAVENGER HUNT

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EVENT LOG: SCAVENGER HUNT

Who: All you scavenger hunters!
What: Scavenging and other fantabulousness, I suppose.
When: November 24th to 28th
Where: The whole village! And yet also all over time and space...
Summary: See this post for more info.
Rating: P for Points! (Keep it PGish, folks. Anything worthy of a higher rating can be brought to your appointments posts.)

As announced by CJ, the village's immediate environs are divided up according to this map. There are five areas: the Nile, Ice Age, Space Opera, Shogunate, and Gangland. Time-and-place appropriate architecture and conjured up NPCs exist in each area.

Don't forget the scavenger hunt! While actually finding things is ultimatly optional, you can find more information on the hunt here. If you want to claim a reward from the hunt, be sure to link at least two related threads on the new rewards claims post.

Finally, here's a quick rundown of the objects:
- In THE NILE: A ceremonial dagger and a piece of Pharoah's treasure
- In GANGLAND: A tommy gun and a set of car keys
- In ICE AGE: A bone spear and a smilodon's tooth
- In SPACE OPERA: a raygun and part of a robot
- In SHOGUNATE: a samurai sword and water from a kappa's head

Happy hunting!

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He eyes her a little warily at first. He doesn't know what he expects from her but Natasha's gaze is cool, not particularly cold, just satisfied. She accepts the gun and everything else as a matter-of-fact.

He gives her a smile for the return quip - just a hint that disappears quick - and reaches for the door when she nudges the corpse out of the way. He's thinking the same thing.

"They said violence was the toughest way. Honestly, I thought we'd get more of a fight out of it too." He shrugs and pulls the door open.

On the other side, he finds what could be defined as a challenge.

Roughly everyone in the bar has come around to greet them, and most of them have come armed. He's going to guess it's not a surprise birthday party. One of the gangsters demands the gun.

He meets Natasha's gaze for a split second, and when she tosses the weapon they start to move.

Edited 2012-12-04 01:24 (UTC)

She's behind him when he opens the door, sees what he sees half a heartbeat later, her gaze quickly taking in the assembled men. Counting, coming up with plan and counter-plan before anyone can blink. When he looks to her, she is ready and the gun is tossed to him before she ever starts to move. He'll make better use of it than she will, and she prefers up close and personal.

It's like instinct, knowing where he will aim and where she needs to be. It's as simple as breathing, slipping back into this, this absolute knowing that gives them a perfect synchronization.

She launches to the right, ducking a surprised swing and taking one down with a low blow. She's moving again before his surrounding comrades can recover from surprise, swinging a leg out to topple them like bowling pins. She hears the staccato fire of gunfire, knowing James has aimed off to the left and she grabs a nearby chair to shatter it over the head of a burly enforcer heading in his direction. A chair leg is left in her hand and she wields it like a blunt club for a few moments, making her own dent in the crowd of thugs, silent and swift, dealing with each one as they come at her.

When three rush at once, she shifts off balance, sending one toppling off to her left for James to handle, a second one sent the same way a moment after when she flips him over the third, dropping the last with what had probably been a perfectly good bottle of alcohol. Pity, that.

Edited 2012-12-04 01:35 (UTC)

He falls into it without a second thought: he goes left, and she goes right, and he's aware of the spray of gunfire in their wake. He thinks that was lucky and the best thing they can do is stay out of each other's way; he doesn't know anything about Natasha or the way she fights.

At first, he does what he's always done with the Commandos, who stepped into every fight with the odds overwhelmingly stacked: he turns numbers against them. He's one guy in a room mostly full of thugs, and he can move fast enough to put their bodies between his and bullets, blades and fists.

He knows his way around a tommy gun but he drops it when the ammo is out, knees a guy in the crotch, breaks his nose with the butt of his own gun, and takes it from him before before turning it on his buddies. There's a big one barreling toward Natasha, and Bucky puts a few bullets in his head without breaking stride. As they move he realizes there's a hint of familiarity to Natasha's style. He can't catch more than a glimpse of fluid motion in the chaos, but she's sending guys his way, anticipating him, and he can, at least, understand her movements. That's enough that he falls into it and trusts her to be in the right place at the right time.

Three come at him, plus one Natasha's sent from the other direction. He steps out of the way, and a kick sends the man toppling forward into two of the three. Bucky ducks a blow from the last, snags a broken bottle to slash the back of his leg open, comes up and leaves it buried in the gut of a man he sends to the right, knocks another out cold.

As the crowd thins, he's picking targets more efficiently. The guns rapidly fall out of the equation, spent or broken, but the guys who are left have actually started forming a circle around them. Bucky almost wants to laugh. He moves toward her and feels Natasha come up so they're back-to-back like they've been at this their whole lives.

"I hate to be cliché, but this isn't a fair fight. These guys are nearly as bad as the ones in the Battledome."

Her smile is quick and sharp and it makes one of the thugs across from her falter, take a half-step back in uncertainty, and that makes her laugh, low and husky and barely winded. She brushes a stray curl out of her eyes and surveys who is left, calculating the best way to proceed, her back pressed against the reassuring weight of her partner.

It's almost like old times again.

"Darling, whatever made you think this was going to be a fair fight?" she murmurs, amusement in her voice as she discards one plan, comes up with another. It's riskier, because it is impossible for her to gauge just what he is and isn't capable of right now, but so far he'd done just as she'd anticipated.

Making up her mind, her gaze cut to the left, then the right, and back again. "Start with the three to your left," she murmurs under her breath, for his ears alone. Waits till the count of three, then launches herself to the other side once more.

Airborne, she climbs the largest thug there, using her weight against him as he goes stumbling into the man next to him. She flips, catching one's head between her thighs and sending him crashing hard, but she had already on to another, using her momentum to keep her going. Her hand reaches out, catching a fistful of fabric as she grapss hold of a tie and yanks earning herself a garbled choke as she clotheslines the man coming at her from the side, taking two more down.

Their numbers are thinning and she catches a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, turns to see how Bucky is faring.

"My mistake." His own smile is quick and sharp, fueled by adrenaline. He's more winded than she is, but this is the most balanced he's felt in weeks; maybe because it's the first fight he's had since he got here where he's not turning his gun on a victim, an ally, or a friend. He's got one person to think about, and she's got his back.

He scans the remainder of the group, and when Natasha makes the call first he doesn't even stop to think about it. He's a soldier, he knows how to follow orders. He feels her body tense against his and they move at the same time. A thug slashes at him and he dodges, grabs the man's arm and uses his own momentum it to twist his blade into his friend's stomach instead. He yanks it out himself when the man's grip goes boneless, and uses it to open up his throat. He ducks a swing, slashes a thigh open and risks a glance at Natasha just as the man falls. He flashes her a grin.

This is about the point in a fight where any thug with two brain cells to rub together will run, and true to form the ones that can still walk start to back off. He's almost disappointed, but he supposes it's getting late and Steve might start fretting if they don't show up soon. He starts to raise out of the crouch, but something is wrong.

He shares a brief look with Natasha, and both their gazes turn to one of the darker corners of the room. It's almost like a cheesy newsreel. The guy who steps into view is huge, and of course he grins and cracks his knuckles, and looks at them like they're breakfast.

Natasha is already moving, and Bucky tosses the switchblade from one hand to the other to catch the big guy's attention.

"I hate to break it to you buddy, but I think you're way outta my weight class."

Even here, with the numbers they face, it is nothing too difficult, not a moment where she feels overwhelmed. It's just a constant chain of action and reaction as she circulates, orbiting James, always aware of his location and adjusting her own course accordingly. The circle of thugs is breaking, backing away, but there is still a tension in the room, as if something or someone is holding their breath.

She sees James' grin, sees him start to rise, but she is still tense, alert, waiting. Her gaze scans the room and she is the one to see the movement first. She's already backing away, out of sight, letting James draw him in. Either the mountainous thug wasn't very bright or wasn't paying attention, because he allows his attention to be drawn, his eyes locked on James and his knife.

Natasha is silent as she moves, swift and certain. Her hands find a chair back and she is spinning, the chair set down to grant her balance and stability as she launches, light on her feet. She is airborne, flip perfectly executed, and the chair comes with her, smashing over the man's head with a splintering crack, her weight behind it sending him staggering forward, straight for James.

Bucky thinks he'll have to remember not to get on Natasha's bad side.

The thug staggers forward, enraged and grabbing for him, and Bucky lets him come. They're close enough that all he has to do is drop into a crouch and swing his leg out. Gravity and Natasha take care of the rest, and it's true what they say: the bigger they come, the harder they fall.

The man's dropping out from beneath her, still roaring his outrage but hopelessly off-balance. Time has slowed down and she acts on instincts, not thinking, not hesitating, merely eliminating the threat with easy and skill. A twist of her arms and the man's neck snaps, his body slumping to speed the fall with a dead wait.

She rolls before he lands, doing her best to avoid the impact of him meeting the floor for the last time, coming up in a crouch several feet away, panting lightly for air as she brushes her curls out of her face. Her eyes are intent and wary, scanning the room, making sure that was the last threat, but if there were any thugs left alive, they've long since fled.

Her eyes return to James instead, finding his gaze, and there's something hesitant in her now, uncertain, because she has no idea how he'll react to this. To her.

Bucky is catching his breath himself, scanning any other dark corers, but this time they're all down and out for good. He tucks the switchblade into his jacket before he meets Natasha's gaze.

That last move she used is so much like what he did earlier. So much of her style is familiar and not at the same time, he wonders if maybe they learned in the same places. It's a strange contrast to see her now, the easy confidence from the fight giving way to something else. Maybe it's the adrenaline, or falling back out of sync.

He nods, his gaze scanning her quickly for obvious injuries, the only thing in it mild concern. They're both bloody but he doesn't think any of it belongs to them. "You okay?"

Something in her relaxes slightly at his easy question, searching his face and finding nothing of what she'd feared. She gives him a crooked grin and straightens, hiding a wince when her knee pulls a little. She'd rolled over something in her tumble, but it didn't feel serious, so she brushed it off for now.

"Yeah," she nods, getting to her feet, letting her gaze search him with the same intent before meeting his eyes with a faint smile. "You?"

"Probably not gonna feel it till tomorrow." Bucky replies with a grimace, and then a grin steals across his face. "You're kinda incredible, you know that?"

"So I've been told. I had a good teacher."

Her remark is dry, but there's fond humor lurking underneath as she dusts herself off, then surveys the room with a critical look, her hands propped on her hips.

"I really hope this is one of those buildings that repairs itself, otherwise someone's going to be rather upset with us. On the bright side, I think we found a gun or two for the good Captain."

Or possibly twenty.

"No kidding."

It's an answer to everything she's just said.

He sees something shiny near one of the bodies and nudges it aside with his shoe. Oh. Car keys. That'll do. Bucky crouches down to pick them up and twirls them on his finger, the grin only widening. "So what do you say you and I take 'em all and blow this Popsicle stand?"

She catches sight of what he has, her grin matching his with delight, and she laughs, already reaching for the guns at her feet.

"That sounds like the best plan I've heard yet."

It's less than glamorous pulling tommy guns away from dead bodies on the floor, but they collect everything and pile them into a nice little black-and-red studebaker that Bucky would love to keep.

It doesn't do so well once they get near the Nile and the pavement melts into sand, but Bucky drags Steve over to see their handiwork. Maybe they overachieved just a bit, but if that's the worst thing anyone can say about it, it's been a damn good day.

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EVENT LOG: SCAVENGER HUNT

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