thearena | (no subject)

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WHO | Don and Tony, and then OPEN
WHAT | Donatello has a very bad reaction to the radiation. One that's decidedly deadly...to other people at least.
WHEN | Soon after the earthquake, and through the rest of this week~
WHERE | First by the canyon at P6, then throughout the Arena~
WARNING/NOTES| DEATH. Also violence and a monster eating things.

It hurt. His right thigh was starting to spasm and burn.

Donatello was able to keep himself and Tony safe during the earthquake, but it couldn't stop the burning that was starting in his leg. Or the pounding in his head. Or the vomiting. He'd stayed away from the ruins since Lottie had died, but he began to realize that it was a moot point.

The burning in his thigh had started where his cut was. The cut on his leg that the roach monster had given him back home. He knew that the monster had been infected with a virus, a mutagen that was created from the faux aliens from their blood had further mutated. Don had suspected that he might have had a risk of infection. But at least before he had not been sickened. Somehow Panem had the technology to stave off the mutagen's obvious effects.

Not anymore. Not with all of the radiation around. With him already technically mutated by radiation, infected by an irradiated mutagen, then further aggravated by the Arena--

Don fell to his knee with a groan as his leg spasmed further. So much for making breakfast.

"Tony-"

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Blurry headed from an almost nap, and yeah, the fever too, Tony blinks at Don a few times before he takes it all in.

Trouble. Something's wrong. The worry in his voice. And the spasming was a pretty big clue, too.

"You alright, buddy?" Tony wonders, standing up with more haste than he would otherwise.

"...No." Don grit his teeth. "A-ah...been better."

Yeah, those muscles were definitely spasming. It's clearly taking everything for Don not to scream in bloody pain.

"Tony, y-you might, uh...want to pack up and get out of here. Now."

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on a minute," he takes a step toward Don. Something is wrong here, and he needs to know what it is. "What is it. What's going on? Tellmetellmetellme. Come on. I can help. Think. What's going on?"

He's felt like hell for days. The worst he's felt in his life, and think that says something. But doesn't feel like Donatello does.

"Radiation sickness." Don shut his eyes, trying to concentrate over the rapidly intensifying headache. "It's causing a-a reaction in mHGGGHK!!"

That rather unpleasant ripping sound was Don's pant leg ripping open. Shell. Shell.

"G-got this nasty bug back home..." Shell...got to keep focused... "Th-the radiation's made me sick...my system...can't hold the bug off." He looked up at the industrialist, his eyes starting to glow red and the veins in his head popping out, mixing with the sweat coming down his brow. "It's gonna mutate me, Tony. You need...to get away from me...now!"

Edited 2012-11-27 16:02 (UTC)

He wouldn't say that he actually knows a ton about the field, or has any experience first hand in dealing with hulking green radioactive monsters beyond... well, there was that one time. But Tony's priorities hadn't been to fix anything there.

He watches on with wide, curious and yeah, very nervous eyes. He can see the changes already. "Shit," he curses at nothing. Or more likely, everything.

Still, he isn't just going to turn around and hightail it out of there. Some small little hope lingering inside him that maybe Don will be ok. "Hold on. Wait. Just.... shit, I don't know. You sure there isn't something I can do to help you? What do you need? Come on, Don. Think. The entire world is watching you right now. If there's something you need to save you... maybe they can send it."

"I-I don'tTGGHGHAAAAAAH!!"

Oh, oh. This was bad. This was really bad. He could feel himself slipping. Too much pain. He could only scream as his clothing began to rip and his body began to morph.

"RUN! TONY, RUN!!" He knew how those creatures had behaved. Barely human. Incredibly savage. Oh shell... "RUUUN!!"

Draco had been wandering around for a few days now, completely dazed, quite unsure of really what he was doing any more. Eating was out of the question, considering the nausea, and he didn't have much inclination to kill anyone else if he could help it. At this rate, it wouldn't even be a problem; he hadn't run into anyone since Dean, and he hadn't run into anyone since. For the time being, he was just wandering around, stumbling through the Arena without a real goal in mind.

Injury. It smelled it. Something was nearby, and it was hurt. Donatello's head perked up from the shadows, and he let out a low, low growl. After all, he was quite hungry, and for some reason feeling weak. Perhaps this new catch would be fresher and more palatable than the three-legged thing he had chased earlier.

He thought he heard something. Glancing over his shoulder, he peered around the immediate area, trying to see what exactly it might have been. Probably just an animal, hanging around...something. The dead, maybe.

He continued on quietly, swallowing his nerves as he stifled a cough, hoping that whatever it was didn't find him.

Looking around wasn't going to do Draco much good. Especially since the one targeting Draco was, in fact, right above him.

Surely Draco didn't think that long shadow was just a tree branch, did he?

In such a daze as he was, Draco barely even noticed that long shadow; it did, in fact, seem to him as a tree branch or something like it. He wasn't enjoying this any more, if he ever had been, and his brain seemed to limit him to only enemies on the ground. As if it were impossible for anything or anyone to be above him. He paused for a moment, just to catch his breath, to wrap his jacket tighter around himself.

It was still. Now. Now.

With a roar the creature leaped down to the ground on all fours. Then, standing up on hiss back legs, Don leaped towards Draco's back, his talons out and hands open. His strength was quite gruesome, easily able to crush a man of Draco's small build.

Or, as Don saw Draco now, his midday snack.

Height obviously did nothing for him when he was so scrawny; Draco didn't stand a chance from the get go. The moment Don had set his eyes on him, he was done for. Draco whirled at the roar, letting out a shriek of surprise, stumbling backwards at the sight of the creature that obviously had not been there a few moments ago. It wasn't as bad as his last death, he supposed, but that didn't make it much better.

He tried to get his hands up, tried to scramble for the small folding knife he'd gotten, snapping it open in an attempt to defend himself, but Don was already on him, knocking him to the ground. And Draco still just kept screaming.

No, height did nothing for Draco. Especially since even at Draco's height, Donatello now dominated in comparison by a good several feet. And those screams. They pierced his ears. They hurt.

The creature roared back angrily in response, even knowing that he wouldn't have to put up with his prey's whining for much longer. Bringing his head up, he then snapped it back down with ferocious speed and force, right towards Draco's head, intending to smash his prey's skull with his head to shut it up.

There was no way he could survive that blow, not even if he had his wand. Well, maybe if he had his wand, but then he'd have to have enough control to not accidentally blow himself up.

His shriek grew more piercing, more momentary as he cut himself off, trying to slash at the first bit of mutated turtle he could possibly reach; he was dead sure it wasn't going to do anything, especially since he was caught unawares halfway through the motion by the sudden force of the blow. Sure enough, Don's strength wasn't to be toiled with, and Draco was no longer dead sure about anything, but merely dead. At least it had been quick this time around.

He fell back, dropping to the ground limply for Don to do with what he saw fit.

And do with Donatello does. Instantly the body is ravaged, teeth digging in deeply into the arms and legs, partly in hunger, partly in play. As if looking for things on him. Just like a Tribute would on a normal run.

Don just didn't realize it, of course. The tiny part of him that was still him was so miniscule it didn't matter.

Dean managed to keep himself near enough to his burrow, but far enough that he could hunt and scavenge to keep himself as alive as he could. With the sickness still destroying his body, and getting his weight down to way below where it should be, he was starting to become weak. He even scraped his knee on a tree and it bled for over twenty minutes. He decided he had to take a rest, or he was going to pass out.

Bleeding, leaning against a tree, he closed his eyes, maybe to sleep, or just to get some energy. Enough to hopefully get him back to the burrow.

Dean wasn't going to get back to the burrow. Not if Donatello had anything to say about it. Everything that moved was one of two things in his current, mindless state: food, or a threat. And he wasn't particularly hungry.

The grass and bushes around Dean began to rustle gently, with a very low sound coming from them. It almost sounded like a faint purr, a small rumble in the wind.

Dean was almost asleep when he heard the rustle of branches, grass, and the bushes near him. He didn't have a weapon, and he couldn't run, not in this state. He started to get that feeling, the imminent one, where he knew he must be done for.

Though he tried to move, he couldn't. His legs were sore and weak, as was the rest of his body. It took all his strength to stand up, "A-alright ya monster. Come get me."

Understood. Somehow. Something deep in Donatello recognized the voice, recognized the words. Perhaps there was a second of hesitation because of that.

A very short second, unfortunately, if Dean was hoping to think up some better last words.

Instantly there was one very scaly, very large green hand with sharp, bloodied talons shooting out from the bushes. It reached for Dean, grabbing, swiping at him like a bear.

Before he knew it, there was nothing Dean could do. He thought it was some monster than the games cooked up to kill him, to get rid of him. But at this point, he was so weak and alone that he really didn't give a shit.

"Son of a bitch!" was one of the last things he was able to yell out before he knew his voice was gone, the wounds on his body causing him dire agony, and the hunter hoping it would be over soon.

It was still talking. Well, Donatello would just have to fix that. This time he came out fully, his maw wide and ready to strike. He would bite this thing's head off. He would shut it up and then it would be one less threat.

Dean was ready to die. At least he'd be out of here, and wouldn't have the cold blood of anyone else on his hands. It was best for his sanity, and then maybe he could stop feeling like death without the actual thing ever coming.

"Kill me. Please."

Dean didn't need to ask twice. The creature's mouth completely covered Dean's head and neck in an instant. Then, those sharp, sharp teeth snapped together like a trap, making to sever Dean's neck.

At least, for Dean, the end would be relatively painless now, as the monster swallowed Dean's head whole.

Ding Dong the Dean is Dead. Which old Dean? The Winchester Dean. Ding Dong the hunter Dean is deeeaaaad.

Dean was breathing for the very last moment, but his body went limp, and he didn't even scream in pain.
At last.
It was over.

Over, indeed. At least for now. As he crunched down on the head with his teeth, Don made - in his own reptilian way - a note as to where the rest of Dean was. For later, when he was hungry, as he stomped off.

Everything hurt. She'd spent days vomiting into bushes and struggling to keep steady between sore limbs and burning headaches. Even deaf deer were running from her before she had a chance to strike and berries were barely enough to keep her going. But Jade was determined not to die here; how would she get back home to everyone else who needed her if she died?

Now, though, the world was fuzzy at the edges and not quite staying straight. She had been wandering the forest in search of food again, but—well, she wasn't that hungry yet, so she could afford to sit down for just a bit, right? Jade found a spot by a tree and drew her knees up to lean her head onto them.

Hungry again. Nothing could sate him. Nothing made him feel full. He had to eat again. He had to.

There was a rustling in the trees, followed by cracking, as Donatello picked up the scent of meat. Soon, he is hopping through the brush, the sound of snapping twigs becoming alarmingly close to Jade's position.

Edited 2012-12-02 05:08 (UTC)

Her ears started to twitch and yet she spent a moment not moving, futilely hoping that if she was stone still then the sound would pass towards some other direction and she could stay as she was. It only came closer and grew louder, though, and she forced herself to stand and back away. Just slightly, she raised her makeshift excuse for a weapon—a relatively large stick, broken haphazardly off of a tree—and Jade hissed to the underbrush, "Who's there?"

Her answer was a roar.And then, a giant hand grabbing for that stick. If he was successful, Donatello's strength was more than enough to crush the wood into splinters in the palm of his forehand.

He sure as shell wasn't going to let something like a defense get in his way of lunch.

Immediately she held the branch up but the thing that came out of the thrush was significantly larger than she expected, and Jade didn't get the chance to react before her pathetic little line of defense was smashed like it had been nothing.

With a gasp, she dropped what was left in her grip of the stick, and sprinted in the opposite direction.

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/quietly tags in

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remember that time I sucked at words? well, I did. so ignore it. /sneak

no problem man |D

<3

Re: <3

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eek, sorry this took so long!!

Its ok! :D

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