thearena | I'm not crazy

Entry tags:

I'm not crazy

Who: Albert and Jet; Albert, Jet, and Ian; Albert, Jet, and Danny
What: Unexpected visitors and people getting hurt and/or killed
Where: Outskirts of town // edge of the orchard // amusement park
When: Week 4
Warnings/Notes: Character death, blood, violence, etc as you'd expect

One - for Jet

They squabble.

It's a terrible time for it given that people could be lurking in the shadows ready to pounce and kill them at any moment, but as with any long-standing couple, those nothing fights crop up and tensions are running high. Though to Albert, at least, this is not nothing. This is another mouth to feed who just stares dreamily into space but won't detach herself from Jet's side for even a moment.

Jet calls her Natalie, Albert calls her trouble.

"It's some kind of Gamemaker trick, it has to be. It's probably not even her." He knows that the girl can probably hear him; he's only dragged his fiance a foot away and his voice rumbles with unconcealed displeasure. He's not sure why he's so against her but he doesn't give himself much time to think on it. Her very presence, so close to what's his, stokes an angry fire.

Two - for Ian

Days after the incident and Albert hasn't said much. A grunt here or there maybe, every once in awhile if a nod won't suffice. He's emotionless other than when they come across an animal, even something as small as a fly. Then it's as if a switch is pulled and he goes savage, bestial. But never at Jet. Always, Albert circles around him, disposing of any threats to their perimeter, anything that could threaten their well being. Anything that could potentially be dinner.

They haven't been as careful with the food as they should, thanks to this hunger. It's deep and leaves them hollow even after too much of the jerky and rations are gone. It's hard to keep it at bay, to keep moving and searching, though who even knows what for anymore. All they can focus on is keeping each other safe but planning beyond the general concept had become difficult between the pain of loss and their insatiable appetites.

The arena is not infinite; it won't take long before they run across another tribute, but with crowbar and knife and shovel turned spear all in hand, they'll fight with extreme prejudice if anyone gets too close.

Three - for Danny

The amusement park offers plenty in the way of cover but little by way of sustenance and the hunger gnawing at the former cyborgs still aches in the worst way. They ramble through, trying to find some snack bar or food cart that hasn't been picked clean, but to no avail. Nothing. And with the jerky mostly run out, they'll need to find something soon.

A thought occurs to Albert, breaking through the haze of empty red that bleeds through his mind thanks to whatever the arena's done - he recognizes it's not normal for them by now but it's hard to care. Caring hurts. It all hurts and he can't afford to be hurt so he shoves that aside. - that other tributes must have food.

So they'll lay a trap and take it.

With his crowbar, Albert rattles the fence as he walks along it, announcing his presence and letting his gait turn slow and listless until he collapses in a heap under the molded sign of a clown declaring 'you must be this tall to ride!' Clearly he's weak, his face gaunt and pale in the cloying fog, covered in dried blood and dirt. So very weak.

An easy kill.

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Things had got a lot more complicated since Susan turned up. Especially since she wasn't herself. Ian wasn't sure what that meant, but he was not going to let her die here.

The non-squeaky bicycle was the most useful thing he had, to he was determined to carry on using it. It was just a case of steering with Susan on the crossbar. Either it was a lot harder than it looked or the bike was designed not to steer very well.

Despite doing his best to avoid people, he ended up steering towards Albert and Jet.

He doesn't hear the bike coming nor does he see it until it's less than three feet in front of them and not stopping.

He doesn't think as the aggression floods his brain and twists his thoughts into perceived threats.

His right arm pulls back -broken metal pole in hand- and flies forward to smash the metal into the front wheel of the bike, intending to send the two people threatening his partner to the ground; he wouldn't let them hurt the older man while he had some say in it.

Albert, for his part, is barely behind Jet and watches the two strangers tumble from the bike with emotionless detachment. His partner has this handled for the moment, though the German's grip on his own weapon tightens to think that it's continuing. That they've been targeted, people coming for them directly. They're too strong with their cybernetics intact so the other tributes must assume they'll be easier to pick off while their powers are inactive.

Of course, you know what they say about people who assume things. He and his partner won't be so easy to kill.

With the dull edge of the shovel dragging along the ground, Albert starts walking towards their fallen would-be attackers at a slow and even gait.

It didn't take much to tip the bike over. Susan didn't do anything to save herself and Ian had to wrap an arm round her to make sure she didn't hit her head. He was so worried about Susan that it was only once they'd landed that he had cause to worry that he had one arm round her and one on the ground, leaving none to defend them with. And there were two men with weapons not looking happy to see them.

"Stay away!" he shouted, letting go of Susan to reach into his pocket for his knife. The lead pipe that he kept handy had rolled under the bike, he thought. Now wasn't the best time to look.

The bike went down and a small, satisfied, smile tugged at the corner of his lips for a split second. Good, they were less of a threat this way.

Of course then the guy pulled a knife and it just made Jet more anxious. A knife could do serious damage if used correctly, he knew that pretty well.

But he still had his pipe. Whoever the girl was seemed harmless enough on her own, but she was clearly important to the guy and if there was one thing Jet knew better than anything else, it was that people got stupid when it came to the protection of their loved ones.

His arm drew back as he took two steps to approach of the woman and aimed to strike her with the metal pole.

While Jet busies himself with the girl, Albert approaches the man with the knife. It's a good tactic with how sluggish they are, he reasons in his angry haze. Keep the man's focus on Jet bearing down on the girl while Albert attacks him directly. He'll be off balance and an easier target, or so the German thinks.

He spins the shovel in hand once before sweeping it out towards his target, the sharpened edge glinting wickedly in the dim ambient light of the arena.

"Leave her alone!" he shouted at the man approaching Susan with intent to hit her. He tried to get between the man and Susan, holding his knife out threateningly.

He was vaguely aware that there was another man, but he was worrying about Susan and not paying attention to him. Which hadn't been the best idea, as it happened, as the shovel hit his arm, drawing blood and making him drop the knife.

He cried out, but tried to ignore the pain, as he grabbed Susan and tried to back off from both of them, keeping them both in his sight.

"We don't know that."

That haze of distrust and irritation had grown thicker over the last few days and while it didn't extend to Albert, it also wasn't extending to Natalie -or at least, this girl that looked like his childhood best friend. The only friend he'd ever had as a kid.

"We showed up in the middle of an arena and if they can bring my parents to this place, they can bring Natalie too."

The little girl in question drifted closer to the two men and slid her tiny hand into Jet's much larger one, her raven hair only getting more messy as she pressed it against the blond's thigh.

She hadn't said a word since she'd stepped out of the fog and into Jet's mortified line of sight, but she'd barely strayed more than a few feet away from him at the most and she nearly always clung to him in some fashion. Assuming this was really her (which he just had to) she'd probably been traumatized by something in the arena already; not exactly an off guess considering this one's theme.

But that would mean she needed him to keep her safe. Letting her die was one of the last things he was willing to do.

"I need to protect her, I'm not going to just leave her behind."

"Then how does she recognize you?" And she does, it's obvious in the way she clings to him - Verdammt why does she have to cling to what's not hers? It makes Albert surly. "You looked completely different before. Your entire face was reconstruc-"

The angry words die a sudden death on Albert's tongue and his eyes focus on some distance behind Jet's ear. All color drains from his already pale face, leaving him cold and shaking.

"It's a trick," he whispers, not to Jet this time but to himself. This can't be real, this manifestation of everything he's feared since the Capitol brought Jet's parents, since they made a distorted spectacle of his life for entertainment on television, since they showed her with her life bleeding out into his hands and auburn hair plastered with rain and blood to her forehead as the light left her eyes.

It's still absent from them even as she staggers from the fog towards the trio, even as Albert pulls Jet (and consequently Natalie too) behind him.

"Hilda."

The sight of her carves into him, leaving him short of breath and awash in pain because he knows. He knows Jet's right, it could easily be her shambling towards them in an undead gait, arm bonelessly outstretched to either caress or dig nails into flesh.

He knows it could really be her.

Jet had a glare born from his own denial set on his partner, but it faded into confusion as he noticed Albert's attention shift. It wasn't until his partner had pushed Jet and Natalie behind him and that name had broken through the air that Jet fully understood what was going on.

He was finally face-to-face with the woman his fiance almost spent the rest of his life with.

She didn't look right, not the bright and smiling and full-of-light lady Jet had painted in his head and it made that intense distrust swirling in him flare up like wildfire.

"Albert..." His left hand went up to grip at the German's shoulder while his right transferred the metal pole to Natalie who held it vacantly despite it nearly matching her height. The knife was in his hand in a second and tucked back against his wrist, pressed into his thigh, ready and waiting. His hold on Albert wasn't so strong as to stop his movement, Jet would wait to see what his partner did first.

In the meantime, he held himself tensely, every muscle coiled and ready to strike out if Hilda proved to be the kind of trick Albert was clearly trying to convince himself of.

"Don't." He knows this tension in Jet, the coiled pressure of the American nervous and ready to pounce. He can't let him handle this, though. This is Albert's cross to bear. Has always been. "I'll handle it."

The German moves away, pulling himself from under Jet's protective hand and walk steadily to the woman keening back and forth, still with her arm outstretched and fingers clutching. He tries to keep his face a stony mask, hard eyes and set jaw, but as soon as she can reach him, as soon as those fingers brush shoulder, brush neck, the tips rest gently - so gently - against his cheek, something in him cracks just a little. It's nothing grand, no outpouring of emotion. He doesn't throw his arms around her or fall at her feet. It's a little tremble of his mouth, a loss of the hard set to his eyes, the turn of an eyebrow.

She traces his cheek bone with a shaking hand, her own head tilted and expression vacant, but he thinks he can see a flicker of recognition there. For all of a moment he thinks that maybe Jet's right, she's really here and traumatized from the arena. He has to protect her, has to keep her alive until they can escape or win or something.

And then she shatters his illusion by gouging dirty, jagged nails into is cheek with a vicious screech.

He reacts without thinking to protect himself, shoving her away with such force that he reels back several steps and sends her flying, body hitting the ground with a sickeningly heavy and wet thud and rolling over twice in the dirt to finally be still, face down with her neck at an impossible angle.

Dead.

It happened so fast Jet barely had time to register Albert was in trouble and move before the woman was several feet away and clearly dead.

He stared, frozen for a moment except the loosening of his muscles as he put away the knife. He could understand why Albert might not want Jet to have done something about her, but he hardly thought Albert doing it was a good idea either.

He blinked and pulled his attention away from the corpse the Capitol had made to torment and moved to stand in front of the German, hoping his blocking out the sight would help even a little. He brought his sleeve up to his partner's cheek and pressed on it to try and staunch the bleeding, his concern clear on his face.

"We need to clean this..." His other hand came up to rest on the German's other cheek with soothing and gentle brushes. "Al..." He wanted to tell Albert it wasn't her, that he didn't actually kill his already dead fiancee, that it would be okay, but all of it seemed hollow when he thought too much about it.

So he pulled the German to his chest instead, Jet's sleeve still pressed to his cheek while Jet's other arm wrapped behind his head and shoulders.

"Don't. It wasn't her." He pulls away, just an inch or two but he has to, he has to make Jet understand before it's too late. He can be conflicted later. "Just as that girl isn't Natalie."

It's easier like this, push through and not think about it, not dwell on how he'd snapped her neck...

He's still pale and his hands are shaking and his eyes meet Jet's with such intensity that it seems all of Albert's energy is poured into it, leaving the German an empty vessel. Those shaking hands find their way to either side of Jet's face, Albert's teeth clenched and jaw set. "She'll turn, too."

Because it's the most painful thing. That's what the Gamemakers do.

Jet hesitated and glanced from Albert to Natalie. Hadn't he just been thinking how that couldn't possibly be Hilda? And now he was standing there thinking about how Albert could be wrong about Natalie. Jet was being a hypocrite.

But she was just standing there, staring up at him with her pretty brown eyes, looking at him as though he was the only person who could help her.

But all of that could be in his head.

Albert was right about one thing, though, how could she recognize him? Even if he'd still had his red hair and brown eyes, age would have changed him enough to make it questionable.

But what if?

He shook his head and brought his hands away to cover Albert's. "Al, you're right, it wasn't her, but that doesn't mean this isn't Nat. I can't just hurt her assuming she's some trick."

Because what if he was wrong?

"Come on, you're not okay, let's find a place for you to sit for a little while and I'll get you some water."

"I don't need to sit, I need you to listen!" He barks at his partner, clutching at him almost painfully, though at the first sign of a wince he draws his hands back sudden force, as if he'd been bitten.

"You know I'm right, Jet. You don't want to believe it and I don't blame you for that, but you have to know I'm right and I'm trying to protect you." You have to win, you have to get out of here a victor and not have to live this nightmare any longer.

But no matter what he says, the shaking in his limbs and the weakness in his knees tell the real story. He does need to sit, to drink or eat, rest. They should wash out the cuts so they don't get infected. And he knows all this, but it all seems less important than the danger of the vacant dark haired girl with the metal pipe.

Jet did wince but as soon as Albert had jerked away, Jet's hands were on him instead, his grip there to support as much as ground. "Albert..."

What did he need to say to convince him? What could he say to get his partner to calm down for two seconds and think of himself? He shook his head and ran his hand down Albert's uninjured cheek. "I need to take care of you before I can do anything else. Just wait a moment."

He glanced at his partner as he stepped away to dig through his pack for the water rations. He needed to clean the gouges before anything decided to start an infection there.

The little girl followed Jet for a moment, as she had been and stood behind him. Slowly, dull brown eyes looked up past the blond towards the German, a ferocity beginning to take root there the longer she looked at him. Then she snapped and let out a scream as she ran towards the German, pole raised and ready to strike him with it.

It seemed to go slow and impossibly fast in Jet's head as one moment he was digging for supplies and the next Albert's argument was being proven correct. But once he realized what was going on, he didn't hesitate or think about it any longer.

His long legs got him to his fiance's side first and Jet put himself between the two. One hand flew out to catch the pole in it's arc towards the man he loved -the force behind it startling considering the size and supposed age of the girl wielding it, the strike easily making his hand go temporarily numb after a burst of pain- while Jet's right hand brought the previously hidden dagger up and straight into the little girl's chest with a sickeningly wet crunch.

Blood poured from the wound on her chest and for just a moment Jet thought he saw a look of pain and betrayal in her eyes. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when she let out a long and loud screech, the like of which Jet had never heard before nor thought he would hear again. Except maybe in his nightmares.

But then the small body crumpled with the dagger still in it and the pole clanged against the ground as everything went silent around them again.

Slowly, Jet turned back towards Albert, eyes impossibly wide and breathing almost nonexistent for how much he was holding it back, as though if he breathed too deeply, whatever fragile calm that had just settled over them would shatter and that sound would start again.

"Sorry..."

There's little time to react but Jet does it for him regardless. One moment the pipe is heading for Albert's skull and the next there's a prone corpse, Jet standing with blood dripping from one hand, and the echoes of a death screech still rattling in their ears long after it's faded from the air.

"It's not-" He stops himself, whetting his lips with a tongue too sharp, almost cutting them on the words he forces himself not to say. This shouldn't be a fight. They're both weary and drained, ravaged by too much emotion so that now they're close to picked clean, bleached and brittle and ready to snap. Or so Albert feels. He didn't want this, Natalie's blood as much on his hands as Hilda's.

Hilda.

He forces himself not to look in the direction her prone body still lies.

"Don't apologize."

A beat. Just one. Long enough to hint at everything Albert tries to keep buried for the sake of survival. "We have to find shelter."

Silently, he nods in agreement and hesitates a moment before bending down to retrieve the pipe and the bloodied knife. He would rather leave it there and never touch it again, but those were his emotions talking and not his head; they'd likely need that knife before the end.

His hand found Albert's and held it perhaps a little more tightly than he should as he led them away from the corpses. He was silent for a while, longer than what was normal for him, but when he spoke it was without invitation and without preamble.

"I grew up with her, she was my first...and really only friend when I was younger. Maybe all my human life, I don't remember having many 'friends' besides her.

The last time I saw her, we were ten, then she moved to Illinois. So it couldn't have been her." Just like that wasn't Hilda, the girl he'd known had grown up and lived her life and died peacefully in her sleep, not on some random street in the middle of a godforsaken arena.

The only response is silence, Albert allowing himself to be lead too easily away, dragging his feet just a little. He barely registers what Jet is saying over the noise in his head. It's wordless, no sound he can put a name on, but loud and distracting all the same, drowning out any other thoughts with the cacophonous clamor of guilt and revulsion.

Then suddenly it stops, he stops, digging his heels in an not allowing Jet to tug him any further away. The noise wins out over logic. "We should bury them."

Maybe it's not them, but anyone who looks like Hilda deserves a proper lay to rest and Albert's eyes meet Jet's dully at that task he's set himself to, maybe out of respect, maybe out of a need to punish himself. Either way, he doesn't seem aware of the tears tracking through the grime on his face until the salt stings the wounds on his cheek. Even then he barely flinches.

Jet wasn't expecting the sudden stop and jerked because of it. But then Albert suggests burying them and he can see the tears on his partner's face and it tears at him, leaving jagged pieces to have to play the bad guy for both of their own goods.

"No. It's not them, they're things made by the capitol. You wouldn't bury one of those dogs, would you? Besides...it'll just hurt...there's plenty of that already, we don't need more."

His hand stayed tightly curled around Albert's in an effort to ground and keep the German from trying to go back anyway. Jet's voice and stance were solid, he wasn't going to go back unless their lives depended on it.

"They're not dogs, they're-" not people either. He doesn't know what they are, but she had Hilda's face and he killed her.

"We can't just leave them." He doesn't know what else to do. Albert knows he's being inconsistent, that he'd made the same argument that Jet's making now, but if it's true that it wasn't them then why does he feel as if it's his own neck he'd broken.

But he doesn't try and go back on his own, fingers still hanging bonelessly in Jet's grip.

"Yes. We can. We are."

He stepped close again and pressed their foreheads together. Everything hurt and he knew it was the same for the older man, he could probably just force them to go at this rate, but he didn't want to. He could yell and get angry to make up for the pain, but he didn't want to do that either. He just wanted them to be somewhere else.

"Please, Al. Let's just go. They're gone." He waited a second before pulling away and trying to lead them forward again.

A swallow.

A nod.

And Albert follows Jet soundlessly into the mist.

Danny, however, is not going in for the kill. Rather, he sees Albert collapse, and rushes over in an attempt to help him, crowbar at the ready on the off chance someone tries to take advantage of the situation.

"Dude, you okay? Can you hear me?"

It's a kid and on any normal day, that would be more than enough to make Jet pause. He'd never attack a kid.

But in the state he was in now, that kid wasn't someone he ought to protect, he was another potential threat and one that fell right into their ploy.

As soon as the teen was distracted, Jet lunged out from the shadows where he'd been hiding, knife poised as he took a stab at his target.

As Jet moved, Albert's hands shot out and snagged the boy's ankles, not nearly as dead as previously advertised. Two grown men attacking a teenager... they would be horrified if they were in their right minds, but the food has seen to that and their right minds are a long way off, leaving only anger, violence, and a deep, aching hunger behind.

It's an odd angle and Albert's not certain he can hold the kid in place if he struggles too much, but he does't have to hold him for long.

Danny was not as combat incapable as he looked, even depowered. As soon as Jet made his move, the crowbar went up to block the knife. The required change in his stance to do so meant one of his feet wasn't actually in the spot Albert had aimed for, and the other was more likely to end up stepping on Albert's hand rather than be snagged by it.

"Oh come on. Just once, I'd like someone to take my offer of help seriously instead of trying to kill me."

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