The Hunger Games: Multi-Verse

The Train (Hawkeye)

Author's Note: Hawkeye's 'POV'

"So, you're telling me I'll be in an open arena and I'll be pitted against twenty three other people . . . And we're fighting to the death?!" Clint exclaimed incredulously to the crazy looking woman in front of him. Her face was plastered with makeup and she wore clothes that Clint couldn't even begin to describe, let alone comprehend. She'd said her name was Lafrenia. 

"Yes, you will be fighting to the death." 

"But . . . Why?" Clint asked in disbelief, throwing his hands into the air. 

Lafrenia answered easily, "To prove that the Capitol is truly above all governments and civilizations. To keep those all under our reign in line." 

Clint sighed. "And you're my mentor throughout all of this." 

"Yes, I'll be able to gather you sponsors and items that will be crucial for your survival in the arena." Her oddly deep voice rang throughout the large and pristine train car. 

The train whizzed along the tracks. Mountains travelled slowly across the long windows as the train made quick ground through the Districts.

"Who are the other, uh . . . Tributes from my sector?" Clint quizzed. The dark wooden table between his mentor and him was covered with foreign and intricate foods that hadn't been touched by either party. 

"Would you be interesting in working with them in the Games?" Lafrenia asked. 

"Depends on who they are." Clint smartly replied. 

"They should be coming in any moment to meet." She addressed. They spoke the same language and were technically the same species, but Clint felt entirely foreign from the woman who would mentor him throughout his Games. 

A whish sounded behind him. Clint turned and his heart sank in his chest. 

"Aw, man . . ." He muttered as Natasha Romanoff walked stately into the train car. She stopped in her tracks when her eyes caught Clint's. 

Clint burst to his feet, and in moments the two were embraced, arms wrapped tightly around one another. 

"What the hell is this?" Natasha asked, her voice muffled in Clint's shoulder. 

"I don't know, Tasha. But we'll get through it. Together." Clint reassured, even though from the sounds of it, the odds of surviving these alleged Hunger Games were pretty low. 

Just as the dynamic duo pulled apart, the door opened again and in walked a tall black man with an unforgiving facial expression and intimidating muscles. 

Natasha turned to face him and stated blandly, "I know you."

The man nodded and said in a low voice, "Black Widow." 

"Killmonger." Natasha's smooth voice glided over the words with no true emotion, but Clint sensed a strange aura between the two. 

Clint thought, His name doesn't suggest that he's a very friendly guy. It's not that clever, either . . . Killmonger? C'mon. 

The man named Killmonger walked slowly over to the table, keeping his head turned towards Clint and Natasha as he walked. The intimidating man's eyes dragged up and down Clint as if he were analyzing him. One corner of his lips turned upwards in a mocking smirk; Clint could only stare back at the strange guy, not intimidated in the slightest by the immature scare tactics.

"How d'ya know him?" Clint asked, keeping his eyes on Killmonger. 

"When Wakanda introduced themselves to the world we learned why, and their most recent battles. He wanted to take over Wakanda. Kill T'Challa."