Forgotten

[shadow_claw]

If you were listenin', I said we were jus' headin' out. We're gonna look fer food. Clint remarked. He wasn't a naturally shy or hostile person, which was why he spoke to both Spider and the new stranger casually. It just wasn't in his blood to attack people on sight. Upon the mention of weapons, the archer took the folded bow from his quiver and examined it. I've got this, but think it might be br- With the slightest movement of his wrist, the bow snapped open into a fully-operational weapon. Oh, now that was cool. Glancing from Spider to the newcomer, Clint grinned. What was on yer table? I gor a bow n' arrows. Not much I guess, but better than nothin' Assuming everyone's rooms were the same, then this new guy would have weapons on his table too. It made Clint wonder just who they were and why they had weapons.

[HomeForFlowers]

The strange tingling Spider felt as soon as this new man came into the room did not leave. It had settled down to a hum ringing through his skull, but it did not dispersed. It was quite an odd feeling. One may think a tickling sensation coming from within your head would be annoying or hurtful in same way, but, strangely enough, it did not hurt. In fact, it only kept Spider wary. He wasn't completely sure if he trusted Clint, but he knew he didn't trust this new man. The pure sense of peril vibrating in Spider's skull told him that this newcomer was not to be trifled with. Spider was about to reveal to Clint and the newcomer, who had yet to be named, what he had seen in his thirty minutes outside, but just then the archer brought out his bow and watched in awe as it flipped open. Spider was instantly intrigued by the strange instrument.

"Fully automated," Spider breathed, his voice containing nothing more than a tone of interest and comprehending, as though he was already trying to figure out the device. "Looks like someone spent some time building that. I'd say custom made but I have no idea if there are more." Clint had an amazing bow that flipped open when he commanded it, the newcomer had a mechanical arm and probably some other awesome weapons, and Spider had... a latex suit. Great, just great. Already Spider was beginning to doubt his role in the unofficial group. He'd probably be more of a burden than actual help. Maybe....maybe it'd be best if he left to go on his own. Spider wasn't exactly comfortable in the current situation and going out alone was an idea he quite fancied.

Edited April 16, 2014 by Doctortear

[Sweet_Wyvern]

The man looked back and forth between them, decided he didn't really care about Clint's twig shooter, and walked out. The guy dressed like a spider didn't seem to have anything useful either, so it looked like he would be pulling all the weight in this group. Great. Shaking his head, the irritable man went back into his own room and approached the table covered in weapons. And it was literally covered- there was a small arsenal waiting for him! He couldn't help a small smirk as he began loading up on gear, outfitting himself with everything he could carry.

 

When he returned to the bathroom, there was a definite hint of smugness to his normally blank features. He had two pistols- one strapped to his leg and the other in a side holster. Strapped to the other leg he had a small shotgun, and slung across his back was a rifle. There had been a belt equipped with pouches to hold ammunition in, and various other sheaths and hooks for the grenades and knives. He was armed to the teeth. "I don't know anything about myself, but I get the sense I wasn't a florist," he mused, twirling a knife between the fingers of his metal hand.

[shadow_claw]

Clint glanced over at Spider and grinned. He had a bow! How cool was that! The grip seemed to fit perfectly in his hand, too. It was as if the bow was made for him! When the new guy walked out, Clint was too busy marvelling in his weapon to notice. He glanced up at Spider and, with a slight pause for thought, slipped one of the knives hidden in his suit and offered it to him. Here. Since ya haven't shown us any weapons, 's good t' have somethin' t' defend yerself. Clint turned his head as the metal-armed man returned. Arching an eyebrow at the sheer amount of weapons, he appeared genuinely impressed. I wanna say 's th' purple suit that proves I ain't no huntsman. If we're all set, I say we get movin'

[BeardedKumquat]

The door of the cryopod slid to the side with a hiss sound. White mist filled the room but soon cleared to reveal a horribly disfigured man. He was awoken when he had heard a sweet, beautiful, female robotic voice. Has an angel brought me to heaven? He thought, smiling when he had heard the luscious voice speak. Then he began to mutter softly, ignoring the dryness of his arid mouth:

 

“O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art

As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,

As is a winged messenger of heaven

Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes

Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him

When he bestr-“

 

He stopped and opened his eyes, his body felt extremely sore but that wasn’t bothering him, it was the fact that he just spoken out a whole verse out of some stupid, corny play; the thought made him sick. Where was he? This wasn’t heaven, it looked more like… a boring old room, in fact, it was a boring old room. The man groggily stepped out of the egg-shaped contraption and observed his surroundings. He headed towards a dusty sink on his left, and then noticed that he could feel no soreness in his body anymore, like it had all miraculously healed. He turned on the tap, sticking his tongue out underneath and was relieved by the taste of water. He washed his face, but frowned upon feeling the lumps and roughness of his face. He turned towards the mirror and was surprised to see a monster staring back at him. Deep red rashes populated the thing’s face and long scars flowed over its head. The man smiled, he wasn’t scared at all, after all, it was his face. “You’re a real charming aren’t you? I would date you.” He smirked. Obviously all the chicks loved him, whoever he was back then, there was no doubt they would still go crazy for him now.

 

Just as he was about to head outside, he spotted a red and black costume and some equipment in a messy pile on the floor. He picked up the mask and inspected its features before putting it on along with the rest of the equipment. He was pumped, he was going to face whatever was out there and beat the crap out of it– but all of a sudden, his stomach growled, the man now began to dream of himself riding on a burger through space, zapping giant pieces of bacon with a laser gun until he got fat. Maybe there was something in his satchel, wait, he had a satchel? He immediately put his hand down the bag, fishing around for a snack, but instead found two twin katana blades in there, they both fitted in his back sheath, so he left them there. He found more and more dangerous weapons in the satchel, ranging from a small, antique pirate pistol to a giant rocket launcher, but alas, no food, that was until he checked one of the insides of the rocket launcher’s pipes. A wild Twinkie appeared! The man felt to his knees and cuddled the Twinkie with extreme affection. He quickly put all his weapons back into the satchel (save for the twin blades), pulled his mask up to his nose and tore open the Twinkie’s wrapper. He then went through the room’s door while devouring the Twinkie, walked through a hallway, turned around a corner and saw a door open, he peeped inside and saw two men in costumes talking to each other. “No!” He cried, his mouth covered in cream and saliva dripping from his mouth. "No! If you want one, find it yourself!” He then turned around and ran as fast as he could away from them.

 

(I may be overreacting, but this is what Deadpool’s like: stupid and immature. Oh, and I changed text from Red to Crimson, if that's all right, Red is too bright.)

Edited April 16, 2014 by BeardedKumquat

[shadow_claw]

Clint's head swiveled around at the sound of yet another voice. His eyes glued to what had to be food in the stranger's hand. Food. FOOD! It took every last fibre of his being not to attack the red-suited man. Glancing down at the dandelion in his hand, and then back to the half-eaten twinkie. Why did that guy get food and nobody else did? That was upsetting. Nah man, I've got...this... He muttered halfheartedly. There was a hesitation before the archer bit into the flower and chewed. It tasted both horrible and wonderful at the same time. Something was telling him it was the hunger that made it taste okay. With a shudder, Clint swallowed whaat had been in his mouth. Plants tasted weird in his mouth Yeah...jus' great... he mumbled. That had been a horrible choice on his part.

[Sweet_Wyvern]

He was going to offer Spider a pistol, not out of the kindness of his heart but because they didn't need any weak links. Clint beat him to it however, and he found that he preferred him with a knife. He'd be easier to take down if he attacked. "Good, now lets-"

 

When the man in red appeared, he whipped around with his shotgun raised, ready to blow the guy's head off. He didn't like surprises. To his astonishment, the newcomer had food. The only reason he didn't shoot the man right then and there was because the other two were likely to object, and the man might know where to find more. "Don't just stand there!" He snapped at Clint and spider. "After him!" Without waiting he took off at a dead sprint, chasing the man in the red suit. He'd make the guy tell him where there was more food.

[pudding]

The nausea hit him before he had even opened his eyes. Muscles stiff from centuries of lack of movement groaned and creaked as he held a hand to his stomach and struggled to breathe. Brown eyes opened and almost immediately closed again. Sleeeep his body seemed to groan as a collective. Wake up his brain insisted. He opened his mouth and inhaled several times before slowly sitting up. His hand gripped the sides of the pod he had been sleeping in as the nausea rapidly spiraled out of control and he leaned over the side of the pod as his stomach did several backflips, a few summersaults and nosedived off of a cliff. Whatever he had eaten before he slept found itself splattered across the floor in less than a minute and he dry-heaved for several more minutes before finally collapsing back in the pod, coughing loudly. Oh God. He had never been in so much pain before. Had he? If he hadn't been so focused on vomiting, he probably would have noticed sooner that he couldn't actually remember anything prior to waking up. That was bad, right?

 

The smell of vomit eventually spurred him further and his shaking hands found the sides of the pod. He carefully noted that he had to climb out on the side opposite of the puke and slowly sat upright before turning around and sliding out of the pod. His feet found the floor and almost immediately slipped sideways as he crashed to the ground with a loud thud. Okay, now he had never been in so much pain before. But he eventually found his feet again and turned around to find… a pair of shorts resting on a nearby chair. Not just a pair of shorts, a giant pair of shorts. A pair of shorts that he didn't expect to fit any normal person, let alone him. Well, the white shirt he was currently wearing was covered in vomit. He fumbled to take it off so he was just wearing a pair of white pants then reached out to take the extra, extra large shorts. They could come in handy later as a makeshift coat or something. But he could at least focus on getting a shirt that actually fitted him and maybe another pair of pants. Keeping that in mind, he moved towards the now-open door and out into the hallway, holding the shorts to his chest to keep it war least somewhat warm and covered. He looked both ways before stepping out a bit further into the hallway.

 

Some yelling was the only warning he had before he noticed a man in a red costume sprinting down the hallways towards him, followed by another man with a mechanical arm. Quickly, he pressed himself against the wall to avoid being trampled or hit and stared at him in confusion. What was going on here and why couldn't he remember anything?

Edited April 17, 2014 by pudding

[HomeForFlowers]

Spider gratefully took the knife from Clint. It felt comforting to have some sort of usefulness aspect, but it was also embarrassing to have to be given something to become useful. If Spider didn't think he was the weak link to the group before, he was thinking it now. After a quick examination of the knife, Spider found that it was nothing special. Just a regular old hunting knife, sharp enough to cut through flesh but too blunt to pierce bone. It was good enough for giving someone a flesh wound simply tearing through rope, but it wasn't the most beneficial fighting knife.

Better than nothing I suppose.

Spider opened his mouth to speak but was abruptly cut off by the screaming of a man with a red and black suit on. It was almost eerie how similar Spider's and this newcomer's costumes were. Sure, there was were obvious differences between the two, but the fact that they both had red as their primary color, black and white as secondary, and seemingly made out of the same material made Spider wary. Not only that but the humming emitting from the base of his skull grew heavily right before the new man appeared. As soon as he yelled his nonsensical words followed by the command of the "cyborg" to follow him. Once both men had ran out of the room, Spider rubbed the back of his head uneasily.

"Looks like cyborg is calling the shots now," Spider said as he lowered his arm back to his side. "That guy did have food, but I'm not sure its worth beating him up over it, although, I'm not Mr. Mechanical Arm knows that." With a wave of his head, beckoning Clint, Spider hurried on down the hall where the other two had disappeared. He was only half way down the hall when he saw a man gripping the wall for dear life. Slowing his pace, Spider turned to face the confused man. Oddly enough, he looked the most normal out of everyone Spider had seen and that was saying something.

"Did you just see a guy with a mechanical arm chasing another guy in a red latex like suit run past?" Spider asked the man, feeling slightly awkward. "I'm pretty sure a fight is going to happen if they aren't stopped."

 

The creature couldn't exactly cough or vomit when the pod opened with white vines of mist gripping at the plant life in the room. It wasn't even a solid being. The creature inside of the pod was nothing more than a mere liquid puddle, bubbling and hissing softly. For several minutes, the creature just sat down, it's being shaking as pain was etched into its oozing form. After a while, it began to move. Inch by inch, it let itself explore the area around it. Several times it was forced to recoil thanks to the soreness of its being, but it always managed to reach out into the unknown once more. Finally, the life form, with its irregular form itching and sore, grasped the side of the pod and pulled itself up. The black mass clung to the side of the pod with small tendrils of darkness reaching around it, feeling the surrounding area. The creature did not feel as though it was in danger. There was no sense of dread about it; no apprehension clinging to the creature's mind. Satisfied with its small search, the creature began to slide down the edge of the pod with drops of black percolating down onto the floor. A squishing sound filled the air as the creature landed completely on the floor. The cold tile was not welcoming to the life form, but the creature endured. Letting its ink colored form crawl forward, the creature began to search its surroundings. Nothing in the room was anything of interest. There was a table by the side of the room but a quick search of its surface showed that there was nothing on top of it. There was a nearby door, but after hearing nearby voices, mostly the shouting of two male voices, the creature decided against going through it. The creature's interest and surprised only perked when it found a nearby fleet of stairs leading upward. Such as curiosity makes it, the creature felt an urge to climb the stairs. Oddly enough, it wasn't that difficult. Sure the creature was weak and had just spent about ten minutes writhing in silent pain, but that didn't mean it was immobile. Climbing up the stairs proved the be the least difficult of the creature's challenge. The door at the top of the stair case was the real enemy. Pushing it with all the force the creature could manage did little. Pulling at the edges of the door frame didn't even make the door budge. After growling to itself for several minutes, the creature found toiling with the handle of the door seemed to work. After working a black coil around the handle, the creature managed to pull the metal downwards, flinging the door open. The outside world was much more comforting than the dank tiled halls. It would be an understatement to say the creature sprinted outside. Oh yes, this outside world was much better than that damp prison. The creature could even see the signs of life blooming from out of the ground. Life. Just the word brought a tingling sensation down the creature's spine... or whatever it had. It wanted something, what that thing was, it did not know, but it knew it wanted it. There was something missing. The creature knew that since it woke up. It wanted something, no, someone else. It wanted another being with life. It want- no - needed someone else. But who...exactly?

 

(I decided that I'll just use Venom when its just a singular life form and not bonded with anyone. I don't think I'll use it again until someone comes along to bond with it. If anyone really wanted to make a villain or just wanted to add some drama, I'd suggest having your character temporarily, or permanently, bond with Venom. It would spice things up until I get to the next plot point. I'd appreciate a PM if you want to try and do something with Venom, but that's completely optional. Feel free to do as you please.)

Edited April 17, 2014 by Doctortear

[pudding]

Bruce flattened himself up against the wall as best he could as the man with the robot arm ran by, apparently chasing after the first man. What exactly was going on here?! Did he just step foot in the middle of a fight? His eyes darted back to the room he had been sleeping in. Maybe it would be better to stay in there instead. At least there weren't strangers running around, chasing each other with... did that guy have swords?

His attention was quickly drawn to a new man in a similar red outfit to the first. "Yes," He replied, blinking as he tried to grasp what was going on. "Do you know where I am?" He asked after a moment. "I can't remember anything." He raised a hand weakly to his forehead, still trying to recover all his movement and get rid of the stiffness.

[BeardedKumquat]

The red-suited man ravenously shoved the rest of the twinkie down his throat. He took out one of his sub-machine gun out of his satchel and turned around to face the metal-armed person. "Gotcha now! SUCKA!" He tried say, but his mouth was so full that it came out as: "Gohhangaew! HWOHAA!" He pulled the trigger, only to realize that he had no bullets loaded. He shoved his hand into his satchel, searching for the gun's bullets, but there were none to be found. The man was approaching and he had no time to pull out another gun, giving up, he fell to his knees and clasped his hands. "Cweas!" He begged, his mouth was still full, so he spat it out of his mouth. "Please! You can have whatever's left!" He looked down at the twinkie mush on the ground he had just spat out. "Don't kill me! I have five wives and one ki– Crap, I mean I have one wife and four kids. Please, my name's–" Wait, he didn't know his name. What was it? What an idiot, he can't even remember his own name?

"Chimichanga" A voice said behind him.

"Wait what?" He frowned and turned to his left to see a floating yellow dialogue box.

"Your name, it's Chimichanga."

Of course! How could he forget? There was no other possible name that could me more awesome than Chimichanga! He then continued his plea: "Please, my name's Chimichanga! I'm Mexican! No hablo ingles!" Chimichanga looked right into his assailant's eyes, his sad puppy face showing through his mask's creases.

 

((No offence to anyone about the Mexican thing, it's just Deadpool being Deadpool.))

Edited April 17, 2014 by BeardedKumquat

[Sweet_Wyvern]

The man was quickly gaining on the red figure, but suddenly he was turning around with a gun. Automatically he threw himself to the ground and rolled to one side, grimacing as it added unnecessary pain to his already aching body. Just because he wasn't sick like the others didn't mean he wasn't hurting. Slowly he got up and stalked towards the groveling man, drawing a pistol just so he was armed and prepared if the other man tried anything.

 

Stopping before him, he opened his mouth to speak when suddenly the Twinkie in his mouth was being spat out at his feet. It was disgusting. And to make things more interesting, the man seemed to be hallucinating, for he was talking over his shoulder to something that didn't exist. Great. "I'm not gonna kill you," he muttered irritably. "You had food, I wanna know where you found it. Tell me, and we won't have a problem."

[shadow_claw]

Alarmed, Clint darted after the metal-armed man. Hold up trigger-happy! Think 'bout this fer a second! he yelled after the stranger. The last one to take off tunning, Clint ended up late to the drama. Well, he didn't even make it to the drama. Spider stood in the way, causing the purple-suited man to skid to a halt inches away from him. Oh Jeez. That could've ended badly. Panting, Clint rubbed his face with a hand. Only a few seconds of this did he look around enough to realize someone else was there. Oh. Hi. Sorry 'bout that, but two guys seem ready t' kill each other over a pastry. I mean, we're all starvin', but that's sorta immature... Edited April 17, 2014 by shadow_claw

[BeardedKumquat]

Chimichanga stood up feebly. "No señor." He said. "No hablo ingles porque soy stupido." He pulled his mask back down. He had regained back his courage. How? He wasn't a coward, his brain was just getting weird, probably from the aftereffects of being in the cryopod. "I found it in my room." He lied, anyways, how would he tell the truth? Oh, I found it in one of the pipes of my rocket launcher kept here in my tiny satchel over here, I keep all my ammo and weapons in here because it's got infinite space. "I'll lead you back there, follow me." He put a small whimper at the end just to keep up the act. He walked back to his room, leading the stranger behind him. When they got to the door, Chimichanga pushed it open for the man. "After you." Edited April 17, 2014 by BeardedKumquat

[Sweet_Wyvern]

The man followed him, keeping out the handgun just in case the other man decided to try something. It was already very clear to him that this latex-wearing goon was crazy, so he needed to keep on guard. If push came to shove, he'd kill him. Something about the way the guy talked was rubbing him the wrong way. Maybe it was his antics, or perhaps he was just irksome. Whatever the reason, the scarred man named Chimichanga was making feel apprehensive. His suspicions were confirmed when the man in latex offered to let him go first. "I don't think so. We're both equally armed, and I don't trust you not to put a bullet in my back. You go first," he growled, his eyes flickering between the room and the man's masked face.

[pudding]

He really needed to get his priorities straight here but it was hard focusing on the fact everyone seemed to have a shirt except for him. It wasn't exactly warm inside the building and all he had was a pair of white pants that he had been sleeping in and the oversized shorts that had to be a cruel joke. "I'm not that hungry," He replied faintly, remembering his own vomiting episode only minutes before. "Do you have any idea where we are or what's going on? I can't remember anything." Edited April 17, 2014 by pudding

[shadow_claw]

Clint paused as the new man spoke and frowned slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand and shrugged apologetically. 'Fraid I don't, sorry. I just got up m'self 'bout twenty minutes ago. he answered. It ain't pretty outside, I can tell ya that. There's water over in the direction where I came, too. Other than that, I've got nothin'. Clint pulled his cowl back and smiled at Bruce. Something told him it was more reassuring to see that the face behind the mask was human. M'name's Clint, n' this 's m'buddy Spider. Sorry 'bout the commotion the two over there caused. Edited April 17, 2014 by shadow_claw

[HomeForFlowers]

"Ditto," Spider said after Clint had spoken. "I wouldn't recommend going outside without a weapon of some sort. I'm pretty sure someone tried to shoot me out there so I'd recommend being wary out there." Now that Spider looked at the man more clearly, he realized just how normal he looked. Like Spider, he didn't have any weapons, but this man was much more exposed than Spider was. First off, he didn't have some sort of costume or device on him. He was lacking a shirt in its entirety and had white pants that didn't see unusual in any sense expect for perhaps the fact that they didn't look exceedingly dirty despite the fact that the strange facility was rather filthy. This man was truly the most normal thing Spider had seen all day, not that the man had much competition. The sudden tingling in Spider's skull told him that either the two man came back, one of them came back, or something else was coming the strange bunker system.

"I think our pastry fighting duo has come back," Spider said as he sub-consciously glanced in the direction the two men supposedly entered.

[pudding]

"I'm..." the man started before he trailed off. Name. How could he have forgotten his own name?! Names beginning with B sounded mighty familiar but he just couldn't place his finger on it. He looked between the two, starting to panic a little bit. But something told him that panicing was really not a good thing to do. Call it instinct or whatever but he got the impression that the last thing in the world he wanted to do was panic. "I don't know," He finally admitted after several deep breaths. "Can't even remember my own name. Thats... that's great." He ran his fingers through his hair, realizing he didn't know a thing about himself. Not just his name but even what he looked like. He could feel he had hair but what color was it? He was a man obviously but how old was he?

[HomeForFlowers]

"We had that problem a while back," Spider said with a grin. He tried to make his smile as comforting as possible but realized that the man probably couldn't see it under his mask. Removing the grin plastered on his face, Spider took a different approach to be comforting.

"It's not big deal," Spider said with a shrug. "It should come back to you in a moment. Whatever your name is, it's probably better than 'Spider'." Spider didn't feel as though he had encouraged the man. In fact, he felt like he just demeaned himself. It wasn't exactly a bad feeling but he didn't feel good about this choice of words either. Why kind of name was 'Spider' anyhow? Why not pick a specific spider breed like "Tarantula" or "Black Widow". Now those were some cool names. They were much better than dumb old "Spider".

Heh, I guess I don't get any take backs, do you?

[pudding]

The man closed his eyes again. It was on the top of his tongue like a word hue knew but couldn't quite remember. B sounded good. B sounded really good. So did R. "I think," he started, scratching the back of his head. "I think it might be… Bruce?" He sounded very reluctant but the name fit better than anything else he could think up. "Spider is good, I think. As long as you're sure because, honestly, I have no idea. Bruce just sounds like the best thing right now."

[HomeForFlowers]

"Bruce is a good name," Spider said with a nod of his head. Bruce was simple enough. It actually, oddly enough, fitted the man. It was as simplest as he looked. It fit him quite well.

"I'm pretty sure 'Spider' is the oddest name we're going to get here," Spider said with an apologetic grin. The man forgot once more than his facial expressions could not be seen behind the mask. "It... sounds right to me, but not completely. I know my name is Spider, but that word by itself feels... empty. It's as though there is something else to it. I feel like it should be Spider and then another word but I can't just figure out what." Spider leaned himself against the wall, letting in some room between him and Bruce. He had realized slightly too late that he was blocking the hallway. Hopefully, he could continue this chat with Bruce without getting yelled at because he was holding up the hallway.

"I guess that's just something I'll have to figure out on my own time," Spider said with a slight chuckle.

[BeardedKumquat]

Chimichanga looked nervously at the man. What was he going to do? He lied and there was obviously no food in here. "Right," he muttered and went inside. "The food's right..." Suddenly, Chimichange pushed the man aside. "PSYCH!" He shouted, followed by a series of snorts. He ran down the hallway, but he realised he didn't have anywhere to go, the other two men were most likely his assailant's accomplices, why did they want his food so bad? Why couldn't they just get their own? More thoughts filled his mind as he ran, most of them unnecessary, inappropriate thoughts.

 

((Sorry for the short post, I'm really busy at the moment.))

Edited April 18, 2014 by BeardedKumquat

[shadow_claw]

Bruce. Okay, that was another name down. Clint grinned at Bruce and chuckled softly. I guess that solves one problem. Hold up. Where's yer shirt? If anyone in the group had a form of ADD, it was Clint. He couldn't help it; he had a short attention span. Automatically did Clint slide off the first layer to his suit. It was sort of like a tank top with a feather pattern. He handed it to the newly-named Bruce instead of offering it. Everybody needed to stay warm. When he did this, a plastic card fell from the shirt's inside pocket and clattered to the floor. Blue eyes darting to the object, Clint stooped down to pick it up. What the Hell? It was some sort of...ID card? Avengers. Clinton Francis Barton. The name sounded right in his head. If he had slipped a card into his uniform before stepping into that weird pod thing (assuming it had all been willing), that probably meant the others had too. Clint's eyes remained locked on the platic card as he thought. Hawkeye...I guess I had more than one name...

 

[Sweet_Wyvern]

He growled as the man in the latex suit pushed right past him and ran off, however he did not chase him. Chimichanga was clearly insane and not worth his time. Instead he turned towards the room and entered slowly, peering about. To his utter irritation, there was no food to be found. In his anger, he spun around and punched a nice dent in the wall with his bionic arm. Okay, no food. That meant he needed to get out of here, his merry band of misfits in tow. He exited the room once more and headed back down the hall the way he'd came, following the soft murmur of voices until he reached Spider, Clint, and the newcomer. "He ran off. Looks like we'll have to find food outside," he said, glancing at the shirtless man. Definitely not a threat then.