arrival [Weird stuff has absolutely happened to him. Space travel. Time travel. Robot invasion. Half the universe disappearing and then coming back. When he comes to realize just how stuck he is and how actually weird the situation truly is, this is going to go up on the weirdness list for sure.
Initially, it's alarming but not the weirdest thing. He's closed his eyes for one reason or another and woken up elsewhere before. He's been kidnapped before. Normally he doesn't wake up to a furnished apartment with no guards and no bindings (and no raging hangover) with a fucking welcome basket.
He takes stock of what he has, what he doesn't. No contacts he's familiar with on the provided phone. City doesn't look familiar, but a lot of cities start looking the same after a while. Don't panic. He throws the hood of his hoodie up, covering the hearing aid still in place, and goes for a walk. Tries to get a lay of the land, first in the Coliseum district where he seems to have appeared at, and then further out. An answer to where he is. The City. Like that's an actual name. Tries to leave just to see what else is out there.
Is met with a dense grey fog. It disorients him enough to get him turned around, sent back the way he came. He tries this a few times until he finally simply is back in the new apartment. That spooks him.
He makes his way to the roof of St. John's, decides if he wants a better vantage point and a place to start for answers, then hell, the giant shining skyscraper tower in the middle of town is going to be the place to go. (yeah okay good luck with that buddy)]
network: anonymous Is there a Dick's around anywhere? Looking for hunting gear.
party [He doesn't know where the clothes came from, but they are tailored to fit him, which is very suspect. What it means is that he looks oddly put-together for a party instead of dressed down or even out of place.
He's been out of the spy game for a while, technically, but he can't forget how to act undercover. He hides his displeasure for being here well, tries to blend in with a crowd. Polite, friendly, a dash of arrogance, a dash of awkward. He asks questions. About the City and its inhabitants, mostly. Though if he's talking to someone else as fresh to this as he is, he's much more willing to let the charade drop and commiserate.
He carries a drink around, occasionally brings it to his lips, but the more observant might notice it never gets any lower. What, like he's really going to trust anything here right now? Please. Especially with all the drugs just...freely being offered??] No thanks, I've got my drug of choice right here.
coliseum [When he fights, it's usually from the shadows, across rooftops, in dark alleyways and dingy shopfronts. Not for a crowd.
But he needs to make some cash if he wants to survive long enough to find a way home. And so long as he's allowed (or even encouraged) to participate under a fake name and under a mask, even in a fucking costume, then he doesn't mind doing this. Does not mind donning the name Ronin again, even though he probably should, just for the sake of show.
It's not the same ensemble, given he burned that shit to a pile of ash, but it's along similar themes, the black and gold, a silhouette that gives an impression of a wandering samurai type. He doesn't always use swords or bows--but whatever is allowed in any given fight, he's good with. Maybe it's better if it isn't his preferred weapons. Keeps him from getting too deadly about it. He can take his licks without complaint; he's had worse over the course of his career, and even at his age, he keeps in excellent shape.
Easier, here, to tap into a mindset he was trying very hard to start to leave behind. Maybe that should concern him more.
But when he walks away, costume tucked in a bag, with fresh money burning a hole in his pocket, he finds it hard to argue against using every aspect of himself to his advantage here.]
wildcard [go nuts, make some shit up! he's going to be doing plenty of exploring, probably getting up on rooftops like a good ol' vigilante type, being too old for this shit, getting his hands on a bow and Shooting Things (like, bad things, usually, or just hanging out at a shooting range), obtaining bits and bobs to make his own trick arrows, being a curmudgeon, not trusting shit for shit... he's gone deaf from all the fun loud explosive adventures he's been on but does have a hearing aid that works well for him; if it seems like he's ignoring you, he...probably has just turned it down or off.]
clint barton | mcu
[Weird stuff has absolutely happened to him. Space travel. Time travel. Robot invasion. Half the universe disappearing and then coming back. When he comes to realize just how stuck he is and how actually weird the situation truly is, this is going to go up on the weirdness list for sure.
Initially, it's alarming but not the weirdest thing. He's closed his eyes for one reason or another and woken up elsewhere before. He's been kidnapped before. Normally he doesn't wake up to a furnished apartment with no guards and no bindings (and no raging hangover) with a fucking welcome basket.
He takes stock of what he has, what he doesn't. No contacts he's familiar with on the provided phone. City doesn't look familiar, but a lot of cities start looking the same after a while. Don't panic. He throws the hood of his hoodie up, covering the hearing aid still in place, and goes for a walk. Tries to get a lay of the land, first in the Coliseum district where he seems to have appeared at, and then further out. An answer to where he is. The City. Like that's an actual name. Tries to leave just to see what else is out there.
Is met with a dense grey fog. It disorients him enough to get him turned around, sent back the way he came. He tries this a few times until he finally simply is back in the new apartment. That spooks him.
He makes his way to the roof of St. John's, decides if he wants a better vantage point and a place to start for answers, then hell, the giant shining skyscraper tower in the middle of town is going to be the place to go.
(yeah okay good luck with that buddy)]
network: anonymous
Is there a Dick's around anywhere? Looking for hunting gear.
party
[He doesn't know where the clothes came from, but they are tailored to fit him, which is very suspect. What it means is that he looks oddly put-together for a party instead of dressed down or even out of place.
He's been out of the spy game for a while, technically, but he can't forget how to act undercover. He hides his displeasure for being here well, tries to blend in with a crowd. Polite, friendly, a dash of arrogance, a dash of awkward. He asks questions. About the City and its inhabitants, mostly. Though if he's talking to someone else as fresh to this as he is, he's much more willing to let the charade drop and commiserate.
He carries a drink around, occasionally brings it to his lips, but the more observant might notice it never gets any lower. What, like he's really going to trust anything here right now? Please. Especially with all the drugs just...freely being offered??] No thanks, I've got my drug of choice right here.
coliseum
[When he fights, it's usually from the shadows, across rooftops, in dark alleyways and dingy shopfronts. Not for a crowd.
But he needs to make some cash if he wants to survive long enough to find a way home. And so long as he's allowed (or even encouraged) to participate under a fake name and under a mask, even in a fucking costume, then he doesn't mind doing this. Does not mind donning the name Ronin again, even though he probably should, just for the sake of show.
It's not the same ensemble, given he burned that shit to a pile of ash, but it's along similar themes, the black and gold, a silhouette that gives an impression of a wandering samurai type. He doesn't always use swords or bows--but whatever is allowed in any given fight, he's good with. Maybe it's better if it isn't his preferred weapons. Keeps him from getting too deadly about it. He can take his licks without complaint; he's had worse over the course of his career, and even at his age, he keeps in excellent shape.
Easier, here, to tap into a mindset he was trying very hard to start to leave behind. Maybe that should concern him more.
But when he walks away, costume tucked in a bag, with fresh money burning a hole in his pocket, he finds it hard to argue against using every aspect of himself to his advantage here.]
wildcard
[go nuts, make some shit up! he's going to be doing plenty of exploring, probably getting up on rooftops like a good ol' vigilante type, being too old for this shit, getting his hands on a bow and Shooting Things (like, bad things, usually, or just hanging out at a shooting range), obtaining bits and bobs to make his own trick arrows, being a curmudgeon, not trusting shit for shit... he's gone deaf from all the fun loud explosive adventures he's been on but does have a hearing aid that works well for him; if it seems like he's ignoring you, he...probably has just turned it down or off.]