thearena | Arena 12 - The Spaceport

Arena 12 - The Spaceport

As usual the Tributes are woken up early for the start of the arena, leaving the Tribute Centre before dawn. A few hours ride in a hovercraft delivers them to their destination where their excited prep teams will outfit them in skintight suits that are colour coordinated by District (D1 is White, D2 is Red, D3 is Orange, D4 is Aqua, D5 is Purple, D6 is Pink, D7 is Light Green, D8 is Blue, D9 is Yellow, D10 is Dark Green, D11 is Lavender, and D12 is Black) over which they will be put into what is instantly identifiable as a spacesuit, complete with oxygen tank and helmet before being loaded into the tubes.

They rise up into what appears to be outer space and immediately upon emerging from the tubes Tributes will find themselves floating upwards with a length of rope the only thing holding them to their podiums. The countdown crackles out from speakers built into each Tributes helmet.

20

19

18…

The Cornucopia sits in the middle of a dusty crater with buildings surrounding it, made up of a number of chained down cases and cubes in limited numbers. Cubes which sharp-eyed Tributes will note look like they fit into the slots beside the doors that lead into the spaceport.

8

7

6…

The mirrored visors of the uniformly white spacesuits make it impossible to tell friend from foe. Tributes fighting for goods will have to risk harming their friends but the alternative, floating off into space or suffocating when their oxygen runs out, leaves them little choice.

3

2

1…

The gong rings out and the countdown’s voice announces, “the Arena is now open” before the line goes dead. The Games have begun.

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Space. When Jet was younger, he'd found space fascinating. He'd never wanted to go but looking up at the stars had held his imagination for hours at a time the nights he found himself unable to sleep. Of course, ironically enough, he'd gotten a chance to go to space anyway when Joe had gotten stuck up there defeating Black Ghost. Jet had flown all the way up there to save his best friend only to send them both crashing through the atmosphere and taking him a breath away from death. The second time he'd gone to space had been nearly the same: Jet had gone up to save Joe and take his place on his suicide mission only to help Joe to his goal, breaking nearly all of Jet's systems and ending with him breaking up and dying in the atmosphere while Joe's voice rang in his head.

Now here they were again and Jet couldn't help having the thought 'at least I've done this one before.' Dying in space was nothing new.

With everyone around him just looking like skittle-spacemen, Jet didn't bother trying to pick anyone out as the countdown ended. He made his way as best he could down into the crater and towards the cornucopia, his eye on one of the boxes as he went. His attention divided, he didn't see anyone else around him, anyone who might have already gotten their hands on t=something if they were a bit faster.

A sharp, searing pain cut through his gut and Jet's thoughts, leaving him to work on instinct as he reached out to yank at the guy's oxygen tube and dislodge it. The jerk made the pain flair up and Jet went to his knees, cushioned by the limited gravity. There was something wrong, something sticking from his stomach, he could feel it, but a voice in his head spoke through the pain, urging him to leave it or he'd end up dying by watching his blood fly all around.

There was one thought that made it through in comical clarity compared to the rest of his haze-filled head: 'that sure didn't take long.'

Edited 2014-12-06 17:30 (UTC)

After twice seeing Jet die above the atmosphere, Albert has no love for the vacuum of space. In fact when he was shoved into his space suit even before the pedestal, he'd already decided this was going to be the worst Arena yet.

What moron decided space?

But he's made actual alliances this time, pledges to friends to help protect them, help them all survive, and he means to keep his promises so the Cornucopia it is. He pushes off the his starting spot as soon as the gong sounds and just prays that Jet, wherever he came up this time, decides to take it easy this go-around.

Of course he's not so lucky. This is the most unlucky place, so not even half the distance to the bounty and Albert's already spied several Tributes down. The light hits just right and he can see in one of the victim's helmets, a shock of bright blond and eyes squeezed shut in a grimace. Of course.

Abandoning his original goal, Albert kicks off the nearest surface to switch directions quickly in the low gravity; that other surface proving to be another tribute's head. He doesn't let himself worry about who, more concerned with getting his husband into the surrounding station before he either bleeds or freezes to death out here with his suit breached.

Thickly gloved hands curl around the straps to Jet's oxygen pack and Albert hauls him as fast as he can towards the nearest airlock, cursing the Gamemakers, the Capitol, and the cosmos in his head.

He was getting colder by the second, faster than he was losing blood and it occurred to him he wasn't impervious to the extreme temperature as he'd been the last two times, he'd nearly forgotten he was human. But then he's moving and he does his best to help out and get them where they were headed. He couldn't see who it was, but he could guess based on stature.

Once they were through the doors, Jet was finally allowed to collapse in a half-obscured corner hopefully no one unfriendly would notice. Where the cold and gravity had messed with his blood flow, there was now nothing left to stop the internal and external damage, pulling a pained groan from him as he clasped his hands around what he could now see was part of a broken blade.

A crawling sensation broke out across his skin, something he thought was just a side-effect of bleeding out until he felt his entire skeletal system begin to change. Red blood changed to pink fluid mixed with red jet fuel as artificial skin replaced broken organic skin and metal panels traced their way along his form, invisible under the spacesuit he still wore. Although the feeling of the trinket on his cheek absorbing into his skin was a pretty good visual indicator. Their ijiva had been turned back on.

"Son of a bitch." He groaned and tilted his head back, eyes still closed in pain. He might not be dying as quickly, but he still had a sharp object shoved in his gut.

Once inside and securely in gravity and atmosphere, Jet's not the only one who feels a change come over him. Limbs that had felt so heavy after they were installed feel even heavier still as his old cybernetics come to the fore. He doesn't feel the cold any longer, and while his parts are bulkier, there's a more streamlined and natural way about his movement. He's used to this. This was his body for more than half a century.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Albert pulls his left arm from the unwieldy outer space suit and extends his knife from the outside of his hand. Carefully, he cuts Jet out of his suit, deeming it useless anyway with a large slash in it, and tries to get a better look at the wound. After a moment, he comes to his full senses as the panic gets down to manageable levels and remembers to pull off his own damn helmet so he can see better.

"Well, it's deep, but now that you're mechanical I don't think it's fatal. Do you want me to try and dislodge the blade?" He tries to keep his voice level, letting none of the worry show, but he can't help the disapproving tone that sneaks in around the corners. It's not Jet's fault space is terrible luck for him. Or, well, not this time.

He strips out of the rest of his own suit while he waits for Jet's answer, down to the bright orange skin-tight jumpsuit underneath. He'll have to find some way to disguise that, otherwise he's a beacon to Tributes and other dangers. Heaving a sigh, he starts cutting half of his outer suit into strips for bandages, imagining they can use the remaining half for some sort of blanket.

He almost apologizes, but bites back the urge as he works. What good would it do when all Jet will say is that it's not his fault? The last thing they should be worrying about right now is blame.

He wishes the pain would vanish along with the cold, but it's still there and still biting deep in his systems where the tip must be lodged. It could still do more damage if it stayed, but he could 'bleed' out faster if it was pulled.

"Hold on." His voice was tight but level, the immediate danger past at the very least. He stared past Albert at nothing, his eyes seemingly going out of focus as the camera-like lenses contracted. Read-outs, levels, scans all filled Jet's vision along with the myriad of flashing red lights that tried to alert him he was damaged. Yeah, no kidding. Nearly a full minute goes by before he responds with a blink, his eyes returning to normal.

"A couple of fuel lines severed, my system's got back-ups to take care of that--" a pained hiss escaped him and he tried to relax more instead of tense up like he wanted. "There's some tissue damage...but without a doctor, there's nothing to be done." Hell, without a mechanic or the proper tools, none of the damage was fixable, but the organic stuff...it could lead to internal bleeding that could kill him within the week.

"Yeah, take it out, it's only gonna make it worse."

He closed his eyes and focused on breathing through his nose as he tried to prepare himself for what he knew would at least be a quick and efficient extraction.

"Are you sure? If there's bleeding, the shard still in the wound could be the only thing slowing it," but he's not a doctor, he has only basic field training. The cybernetics he could likely reconnect somehow with his knowledge of Gilmore's work and his own mechanics, but when it comes to flesh and blood he's a layman.

"If we could find someone-" he starts, but cuts himself off almost immediately. They're still too close to the Cornucopia and even with the surprising number of Tributes they know that have some kind of medical skill, there's no guarantee any of them made it out alive or that if they did, they're anywhere nearby or in a shape to help.

Still, he looks this way and that anyway, desperate not to let his husband bleed out in his arms within the first five minutes of the Arena.

"Yeah, I'm sure...Al, come on. It's gonna bleed whether it's in there or not and this hurts like hell." There was frustration in his voice, but it wasn't directed at Albert, it was for the situation. Albert's fears would be no different from Jet's if the situation were reversed, but why'd he'd get hurt anyway? Yeah there was a risk to the cornucopia, but Jet'd never faced it before. This just said to him space really was unhealthy for him.

"It's too early, people're still finding their places, no one's gonna be around to help us out." He nearly laughed but held it back in favor of a smirk.

"Sorry I've got such crap luck, Al."

Venus is still in her space suit when she winks into being right next to the two of them, and three inches above the ground. She stumbles as her feet hit the ground, a little "shit!" echoing outside her helmet in a familiar voice. Her teleporting's off, not because she hasn't used it in a while but simply because she's overdoing it right now. She has maybe three, four jumps in her at a time, and anything more than that makes the results more erratic. She's lucky she didn't accidentally fuse with something or someone.

Someones who were people on that very short list of people she wanted to find.

"Jet! Albert! Thank God!" She pulls off her helmet - her Stylist beaded little diamonds into her locs that make them look like a night sky, and Venus is only just now getting the joke. The relief is evident on her face, washing over the concern and brand alike. "What happened?"

She looks at Jet and all the blood, but Jet's still talking. She wouldn't panic even if he weren't. This is the Arena now, and in all its ugliness it's still a home to her.

"He's being fatalist." If Albert is surprised at all by Venus' sudden appearance, he's either not showing it or has other things to worry about. Really it's that teleportation is so low on the list of things he finds beyond commonplace, but with Jet laying there acting like he's about to clock out, Venus showing up warrants a glance and that's about it by way of hello.

"Someone's knife snapped off in his wound. Our original cybernetics are active so it's not nearly as bad as it could be," he gives Jet a warning look in case he tries to argue. "But I think it may still be in what little organic flesh is still present. I don't know if it's better to leave it in or pull it out for risk of him bleeding..."

He starts out strong, giving a rundown of what's happened, of the situation as it is, but by the end he can't keep just a little of his anxiety from creeping into those words, a shadow of worry crossing his expression. Space is never good for them, especially not Jet, and while he'll be damned if he doesn't try his best to make this time the exception, he's frightened there's nothing he can do.

"I have first aid training but this is the point where we'd wait for a medic."

Jet offered Venus a lopsided smile in greeting, but Albert's claim that Jet was being fatalistic earns him a dirty look. "I'm not being a fatalist, asshole, there's a freaking knife sticking out of my gut and it hurts like a bitch and you won't take it out." His voice was strained with pain, but it didn't stop him from letting his irritation shine.

His read-outs said he was already bleeding internally, even if they pulled the thing out it wasn't going to change anything. He wasn't about to die, but he was dying. Just...slowly. What did Albert expect him to do in the meantime? Wander around with something stuck in him?

"Forget it." Was his muttered 'warning' before he grabbed the blade himself and yanked it out, wincing as it cut through something it probably shouldn't have -apart from his hand which now sported a nice slice of it's own- and let the blade clatter to the ground. The too thin red and the thick white liquids already coming out of him oozed up a bit more, but didn't gush as feared. At least the pain was less.

Oh, God. They are totally married. Venus would laugh but the truth is it's a little touching to see a different facet of the relationship she's come to see as bedrock. She's always gotten the impression that she's seeing the catgut stitching them together, and not the meat of the bond itself.

"Good thing I am a medic. Kind of." Venus' powers are on the fritz right now, strained beyond their comfortable capacity, and healing Jet's going to tax them all the more, but that is barely a concern on her mind right now. Like Hell is she going to stand aside while one of the guys who took care of her when she was being a sad, sloppy drunk bleeds out his gut. She sets the helmet aside and moves next to Jet, right before he decides to yank out the blade.

Awesome. Also gross. "Hold still." Her voice is the sort of authoritative command of someone who's all business on the battlefield. There's none of Jet's irritation, none of Albert's anxiety. She's fully Venus, the persona, rather than Delilah tucked safely inside.

She doesn't bother to ask permission. She reaches over and splays her hand over Jet's wound. First is diagnostic, a kind of scienceless, intuitive process where she extends her complete awareness of her cells to his. She feels everything as if she's inside the cell walls themselves, every pathway ruptured, every bridge displaced. Dark spots, like holes in vision or myriad blind spots, form around her hand.

"Lay back and think of Albert." She starts to knit him back together, molecule by molecule. Her lashes flutter with exhaustion. For Jet, it'll feel like a massage and an endorphin rush and a hot shower and the release of a sneeze all at once.

The German in question moves a bit out of the way so Venus can get in to help even as he glowers at his husband for pulling the damn thing out without any preamble. He paces once, twice back and forth behind Venus as she works her magic - and it does look like magic to Albert but at this point he doesn't care what it is so long as it works.

"Idiot. You've cut some sort of nutrient line doing that." He recognizes the white fluid as a byproduct of Jet's cybernetic system to process food into literal fuel, mostly just because he's seen Jet injured more times than he cares to remember. "I don't know how we're going to fix that."

Nor just how detrimental it'll be. It could be nothing, it could mean he won't be able to process eating anything for all Albert knows, he doesn't have the system himself. It's just easier to worry about that than if he'll even survive long enough to need to worry about it.

Venus, though, when he can finally tear some part of his attention away from his husband, looks as if she's about to drop. Still grumbling - words like 'reckless' and 'idiot' peppering the low toned speech - Albert posts himself behind her to catch her if she swoons. He knows how much teleporting took out of Ivan, he can't imagine the toll that and healing someone (whatever that entails) is taking on his adopted sister.

"I've got more than one line, you jerk. I'll reach in and tie it myself if I have to." Jet's glared at Albert even as his husband but when he started up his anxious pacing, Jet turned his attention to Venus instead. He did as he was told but he made another face when she told him to think of Albert.

"Yeah, like what, how stupid his face is or how annoying his pacing can get or how much of a bastard he is?" He muttered it, letting his ire speak for him instead of what he was actually setting his mind to. Think of Albert, of those eyes Jet never got tired of looking at, of how he never felt safer or more loved than when Albert held him to his chest. How Albert was the first person to make him feel anything even close to that since he'd been eight.

The skin on Jet's hand sealed itself up as whatever Venus did ran through him and the squishy stuff on the inside knit together the way it was supposed to. His eyes fell shut and his head rolled back a bit as the sensation swept through him, causing a small groan that was definitely not caused by pain.

His face flushed in response, but he tried to ignore it and opened his eyes to look at her instead. She definitely looked about as good as he'd felt a few seconds ago. He sat up and reached to collect her hands in his, half to get her to stop and half to help her stay upright.

"Hey. You look like you're about to hit the floor."

"I'm okay, I just need a minute." When she opens her eyes she has an unfocused middle-distance sort of stare; all her attention right now is focused inwards, keeping herself from ripping apart atom by atom. She wonders if she should get up and run away from them, demand space so if she goes supernova they're not in the blast zone (like her brothers, like her parents, like her grandmother), but no, she has this.

She has this. The thrum of energy scrabbling to get out, from under and within over her skin, dulls down as she sorts her immense power back into order. Were she with the X-Statix, they'd haul her off to "dialysis" right now, but that's not an option here. She has force of will and that's it. She takes a deep breath and lets it out and sits back, not falling into their arms but still going slack and relaxed.

"I can't fix the cybernetics." She doesn't know what that means for Jet - maybe she would if she were a doctor, but she only knows how to repair, not how to treat. It's like a construction worker trying to patch up a sinking ship. She grins, lopsided. "The way you two are fighting, I'd think Albert was the one that stabbed you."

"Maybe I wouldn't be such a 'bastard' about it if you would stop trying to die on me every time we left the Earth's surface," he growls out in response to Jet, and scoffs at Venus' assessment of their relationship even as he kneels down again by the two of them.

He's a little bit wary of Venus' power in that he's seen the footage of her in the exposé. He doesn't believe she'll harm them, not intentionally, nor that her control is as lacking as it was shown in the television special, but that sort of raw force should be respected at least. Still, if she does waver and look like she's about to tumble over, he'll catch her.

"It's alright, it's usually the organics that get us into trouble when injured. He has diagnostics and can walk me though reattaching what needs fixed so long as we can find something to seal any leaks." Even duct tape. They've done that before.

He meets Jet's eyes, then looks at Venus again. "Are you sure you're alright?"

He wanted to argue and say how it wasn't his fault...but quickly remembered that wasn't the case. No one was holding him at gunpoint when he made the decision to fly into the atmosphere twice. In fact, Albert had yelled after him, the best he could do to stop Jet when he'd offered no warning before taking off. Yeah. Who was the bastard?

"Whatever."

He looked away from them and focused on the schematics that flooded his vision, making his eyes unfocused again. Numbers, charts, every read-out he had scrolled through his vision including the little red warnings that remained. There were fewer of them now, at least. A moment later, he blinked and gave Venus a small smile. "Practically good as new, thank you."

He didn't want her to worry about him when there was nothing any of them could do for the rest of it until they had the right tools in hand -tools they might not even find. He'd be okay for a while, at least, it would just make some things a little more difficult, but that was better than countdown of a few hours.

"You should rest while we've got the time."

"I'm alright. It's just been a little while since I took the superpowers out for a spin." She gives Jet especially a long glance, unsure if he and Albert are playing tougher than they are the same way she is. After a moment, she gets to her feet, slowly and carefully but without any weakness in her knees. Time for this clunky bullshit spacesuit to come off.

"This isn't really a safe place to set up shop. Who knows when that airlock'll open again." She hasn't started off any Arenas with allies so soon; usually the first few days are spent hunting for her people and scouting out the land. She's already possessed of the urge to squirrel them away in some corner where no one can get to them without going through her, but she's well aware that they likely feel the same way.

"So far I haven't run into anyone else."

"She's right. Let's get you up." With a last look at Delilah to make sure she's not going to keel over, Albert stands again and moves to help his husband to his feet instead, looping one of the blond's long arms around his shoulders and hoisting the other cyborg as if he weighed close to nothing.

"What have you seen so far? Anywhere we can make secure?" Considering she can teleport and they hadn't even gotten as far as the airlock before Jet tried to bite the big one. "We need to find somewhere defensible, then look for sources of water and food, maybe other allies if we can swing it. I made agreements before the Arena with both Sam Wilson and Felicity Worthington, among others."

They can fill in the rest of their lists of protectees when they get somewhere safe.

"Preferably somewhere with a door or high up." Jet didn't protest Albert helping him to his feet or supporting him, although it was tempting; until they were out of potential immediate danger, the last thing he wanted to do was slow them up. Although with the fact Albert could so easily lift him even with Jet easily being an extra hundred pounds heavier just proved they were hardly people to be messed with now that they had their own cybernetics back. With all three of them together and Venus back to her health, they'd make a pretty damn formidable team.

He caught Albert's eye to tell him they should get moving and started off deeper into the station, regardless of their intended destination, they needed to get moving.

It took a small amount of conscious thought to re-activate the brainwave communication link between himself and his partner, but once it was there, it was like spreading a mental security blanket. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed practically having Albert in his head all the time until it was gone for so long. Now he just had to test and make sure it worked.

'Once we're somewhere safe, we need to get her to rest, she'll resist, but she still looks pretty bad off.'

Edited 2014-12-20 04:19 (UTC)

"Only one other airlock, and not who the people who got there ahead of me and ditched it were. I shot someone for trying to strangle me but I don't know who it was or if I killed them." She released a breath in a long, slow whistle. "I haven't been around nearly as much as you think I have been, much as I appreciate how much you think I'm capable of."

She's made about five teleportation jumps this hour, and that's about her limit. Three of them were outside investigating the Cornucopia. Fortunately, it'll only take a few hours for her to recuperate.

"Sam Wilson's good people. Good kisser, too." She adds that more for the audience at home than for either Jet or Albert - after all, she knows that her best asset is still her ability to work the crowd at home. A crowd that likes a little romance stirred into their brew of slaughter and despair. "Kankri Vantas, obviously, and any of the Frenchies if you see them. My list of allies ain't all that long."

She starts walking, taking the lead even if it isn't the wisest decision.

'I agree. You should rest too, for that matter. You may be healed but you should take it easy until we can find a way to patch your systems. Even duct tape would help.'

Jet's voice suddenly in his mind isn't jarring in the slightest, instead it soothes his fraying nerves and lets him breathe a little more easily. If they get separated, they can easily find each other, and still communicate as easily as thought. It makes the stress of the last new minutes - had it only been minutes? - melt into so much background noise.

Delilah's comment about Sam being a good kisser earns a raised eyebrow from Albert and a sidelong glance, but he doesn't comment on it. Not yet anyway. "If we're listing allies, Clementine, Terezi, Initiate, Carlos, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes... honestly it might be easier to list those I wouldn't mind seeing meet a quick end." Many of the tributes he doesn't consider friends or even have a spoken pact with, but allies are allies and aside from Black Tom and Sigma, there are no others he can think of that deserve immediate attack without provocation.

"As for our immediate concern, I agree with Jet. Somewhere high up would likely be best."

'Duct tape's a hot commodity, I doubt we'll find any, but I'll play along for now if it makes you feel better.' That was about as close to 'coming quietly' with the idea of resting Jet could get.

The comment about Sam earned a smirk and an amused look, but he kept quiet about it. If she said so, he certainly wouldn't know. "Anyone I'd list's already been mentioned, so I think that's it." Anyone else, while he wasn't out for their blood or anything, Jet wasn't adverse to killing either. If it came down to him or one of his allies and those others, he'd kill without a second thought.

"We'll find somewhere, but we should find it soon. No point wandering half the arena to find somewhere safe. Although, if we need to, I can get us out of here fast." His flight systems weren't too jacked, at least, the actual flying part wasn't. If something less than pleasant showed up, he could take both of them with him easily.

Venus echoes the list in everyone's head out loud. "Black Tom Cassidy, Molotov Cocktease and Sigma Klim on our hit list, I'm guessing?"

She doesn't know about some of the new recruits, but there are old guard who are uncooperative with the general will, to say the least. Venus wants to appoint herself as some sort of judge and exonerate only the children here, the ones who had to do a whole other goddamned Arena just to spite the Tributes watching on, but she doesn't know how her newfound family will look on her mowing her way through other adult Tributes. She doesn't ask yet. She'll wait until it becomes necessary, if they last that long.

"Molotov and Black Tom will be together, wherever they are. If I remember right, his powers have something to do with plants, so he might be shit out of luck here, but he might be able to shoot fire...I don't remember. Sorry, he's like one of those C-list celebrities in my world that you only hear about when the big dogs aren't doing anything cool. Tried to destroy my school once." She breathes deep. "Sigma Klim I got nothing on. And of course there's whatever Gamemaker traps they've rigged up."

There's a confidence coming from her that's practically humming over her body like a second skin. The Arena isn't home but it's her workplace. She knows the rules here, in front of the cameras and the audience. She turns a corner and makes sure no one's down either hallway. She chooses left because there's no reason not to.

"We can find a place to stay for a few hours until my powers get under control, then I can start scouting better places. I just shouldn't do anything fancy for a little bit."

"Molotov I'm not sure. She plays the game and she plays it well and we should defend ourselves of course, but out of those three I wouldn't go out of my way to do her harm." Though if they find Tom, Delilah is right; Molotov will likely be present and on his side. Still, he's not going to hunt anyone down purposely.

"Good information on Tom, thank you. As for Sigma, all I know for certain is he's a cyborg and has an unhealthy preoccupation with Eponine. Nothing untoward as far as I can tell, but definitely some kind of sick surrogate child situation." Which doesn't help Eponine in the slightest. She needs to learn to stand on her own feet and not rely on others to bail her out of her own stupid decisions, yet there's Sigma with his Capitol loyalties trying to corrupt her further.

"For his being a cyborg, this could mean he has weaponry, enhanced sight, strength, any number of things. Best to let Jet or I handle him if we come across him, we've fought other cyborgs before. Quite a lot." He looks at Jet to confirm, still walking near him in case the damage he's sustained suddenly catches up with his mechanical systems and their search for somewhere to hole up is cut short.

"There's a door ahead, maybe we'll find somewhere to bunker down in there. Then we should probably let each other know our strengths." Meaning powers. He has no earthly idea how far Delilah's extend and likewise she doesn't know what they can do.

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Arena 12 - The Spaceport

Jet: Closed to Albert, co-starring Venus later on

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A little bit of self-reference here but they're from the same world.

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