sweatin', sweatin', no wind whippin' behind me [ open ]

[cowcatcher]

Who | Jane and you! Jane and Luke. Jane and Nick.
What | Catchall post. Jane arrives in the arena. Subsequent attempts to avoid attention and scavenge supplies are made while flying solo. A close shave with an 'alien killing' device happens, and the surviving zombros are reunited.
When | Backdated to the end of Week 1/the beginning of Week 2.
Where | In the upper levels of the spaceport.
Warnings/Notes | Violence, and spoilers for the second season of The Walking Dead Game. Very up for threading any of Week 1 or Week 2's events. Here is Jane's plotting post. Feel free to PM or plurk me with questions/corrections!

( scavenging near the science labs, open. )

By her judgment, it's been two hours since she was funneled up into this nightmare. Since then, Jane has stuck to what's served her best in the past: stay alone, stay alive -- even though that's more of a joke than it's ever been now.

Actually, pretty much everything about this is hilarious in a fucked up way: the way she'd vomited in her space suit after stumbling off her pedestal and it had drifted up into her hair, the way this place reminded her of a shitty laser tag arcade she'd been to as a kid, the way she still hasn't found a weapon better than the helmet they'd sent her in with. The most laughable thing by far though has to be the fact that she's supposed to be dead. Jane still hasn't had time to chew on that yet. Shock's not something she's been able to afford for years, but it's there in her mind, a cloud among many, as much as she tells herself she has to focus. Only one person is getting out of here alive, and Jane's not holding her breath that it'll be her, not when being late to the game has already screwed her over in so many respects.

It's nerve-wracking to be on the move when she doesn't even know where she's going, but even worse to stay in one place too long without giving the adrenaline inside her an outlet. Restlessness and desperation drive her further into the space station. It's a small comfort to be away from the windows to the outside, which had only made her feel like they could shatter and suck her out at any second.

Jane searches as she goes, eyes peeled for both supplies and any threats, though to call the pickings slim would be very generous. No food, no water, and nothing to defend herself with. Every second lost brings her a second closer to a confrontation she knows is inevitable. She (gouging eyes comes to mind, she won't need a weapon for that) but the inevitable is going to catch up with her all the faster if she doesn't find a weapon soon.

She isn't hoping for much after everything she's seen so far has been picked clean, but her luck changes as she turns a corner to find the mangled remains of some machine. Jagged and charred pieces of metal are strewn across the ravaged walkway, cluttering the floor. Some shards had even lodged in a nearby vent. It whistles lowly with escaping air where it has been pierced. Carefully, Jane crouches to sift through the wreckage, selecting a sizable piece of shrapnel with a particularly sharp-looking edge. It's something.

Backtracking occurs to her for a second, but with no food or water to be found where she's already been, she lets the idea drop, considering that maybe she won't find anything to eat or drink at all. Jane's no stranger to starving. It'll suck, but she knows she can last a while without eating. She'll be shit out of luck before long without water, though, and it's not like she can just melt some snow. Maybe further ahead...?

Jane casts a glance the way she came before turning forward, shrapnel and helmet clenched in either hand as she begins walking. No point in being afraid of something she can say 'been there, done that' about. 

At least that's what she'll tell herself.

Comments

[affluenza]

Dandy had arrived around the same time although his reaction was one of glee and he, thankfully, didn't vomit anywhere. But although he still found this whole thing fascinating and was eager to become the grand celebrity of murder he always wanted to be, this arena certainly was bigger than he thought it would be.

He imagined some sort of cage match that lasted a few hours at most, not a huge open world where he'd be expected to somehow feed himself and keep clean enough to be good looking for the audience over a period of weeks. Outright killing everyone he came across might not be the best strategy after all, now that he had to play the long game.

All he had for a weapon was a loose metal bar, only around half the size of an average crowbar. Not ideal, but he'd killed with a candlestick before, he could make it work when the time came.

"Who's there?" he said, hearing footsteps in the distance. He gave his location away by talking, but he was ready to strike if the need arose.

[cowcatcher]

Of all the times for the lights to fucking flicker.

At the sound of a man's voice, Jane whips around in the direction it came from, helmet and shrapnel clutched tightly enough to hurt in both hands. He's near, whoever he is, but frustratingly out of sight.

"That's close enough." Her own voice is low, controlled, carrying well over the relative silence of the spaceport. The machine's wreckage is mostly at her back, though some pieces that were flung further still lie ahead. Not good. This suit she's wearing won't protect her from much at all. Risking a fight in here would be a bad idea, especially when she doesn't know if this other tribute is better-armed than she is (which she judges almost impossible not to be the case). Retreating could buy her time, but in an area completely stripped of resources.

Moving forward is her only real option, she knows that. Every nerve on edge, she stalks to the end of the walkway, where metal steps descend further into the abandoned station. Suddenly the lights gutter back to life with a thrum, illuminating the stairwell, and she spots him, dressed in a suit identical to hers except in color. Practiced eyes scan him immediately. He's big enough to be a threat, and not unarmed. Hopefully, he realizes that she is too.

"You'll wanna keep walking." She indicates away from me with a jut of her chin.

[affluenza]

At first glance, Dandy certainly doesn't find her much of a threat. His weapon wasn't the greatest, but neither was hers, and he was larger.

"Why would I want to do that?" he says, "Keep walking, I mean. I was just dumped here. I'm quite confused."

He wasn't really that confused, but appearing non-threatening had been working out well enough for him so far. Jane was already more hostile towards him than anyone else here had been - for a fight to the death, most of them had actually been quite calm.

eeeek i'm over my tag funk slump so i swear i'll be faster from now on

[cowcatcher]

So he's another latecomer like her. The scrap of information is logged away with what little she's gathered so far about their situation. It's tempting to probe him for more, what with how chatty he's turning out to be, but instinct is pushing much more insistently for her to get some distance going between them now. He's not being aggressive, and that's so discordant with all she's known for years that whether it's an act or not, she can't bring herself to be receptive. Alone is safe. Tagging along with someone you don't know? That's practically begging for trouble.

"Oh, boo hoo. I'm not here to hold your hand, alright? Get moving, or I will."

[affluenza]

"I wouldn't hold your hand anyways, it's probably dirty!" Dandy said, starting to get agitated, "And I haven't seen anyone else out there, everyone's too far ahead. Have fun alone, though, I'm sure you'll get far."

[cowcatcher]

Dandy isn't off the mark at all for assuming her hands are dirty. She had tried cleaning herself off after stripping off the outermost layer of gear, rubbing away what she could of the mess in her hair onto her space suit, but her hands still reek with the tang of bile. Unpleasant, but she's definitely smelled worse.

What does get her expression to scrunch slightly is his response. He gives his retort with the same hot-headed gust a child would. The hand she uses to clutch her shrapnel comes down on her hip, which cocks out slightly.

"'Bout as far as you're getting, probably." Is Jane's reply, spoken flat as can be. Running alone is kind of her M.O.; it's been a long time since it scared her. If anything, that's when she feels the most capable. You're not anyone's problem then, and no one is yours.

"Look, I'm about as thrilled as you are t--" She cuts herself off at the sound of staccato rattling suddenly coming from the ventilation shaft arching above them, eyes trained to spot any accompanying movement. Her lips twist into a frown. That's too many footfalls to belong to just one animal.

Her eyes shoot to Dandy again, a hand raised to urge him to be quiet.

[affluenza]

"I'm getting way farther than you. In fact, I'm going to win this whole thing," he says smugly, arms crossed like he just won the whole damn argument.

When she raised her hand he looked around, listening closely for any sign of the noise. Unfortunately for Jane, Dandy was no survivalist. A killer, certainly, but he'd never had to rough it in his entire life and thus was a bit lacking in the common sense department there.

"What was that?" he says, "And don't you shush me."

[cowcatcher]

The skittering grows closer and closer before suddenly stopping. In the silence, she doesn't dare to so much as breathe, gesturing with violent swings for him to stop talking when he refuses to, refusing to add to the dinner bell despite wanting to call him an idiot.

The skittering above resumes, moving faster than it had before, retracing its steps. She follows its path, eyes wide in the poor lighting. That's when she sees the perfect opening one of many vents provides.

"If you want to stick around to find out, be my fucking guest." She's already moving in Dandy's direction, clearing the stair steps separating them with the lightest footfalls she can manage.