(no subject)

[ka_sera_sera]

Who| Felicity and Roland, maybe a bit with Roland and Signless later. You, if you want your character to be killed. Message me, we can work a thing out, I'll add a prompt.
What| violence, murder, another day in the neighborhood
Where| abandoned zones
When| the very end of the arena
Warnings/Notes| nothing more than the usual for this game

Killing in these places, these arenas, it's a show. One the tributes are maneuvered into. The gamemakers manipulate and steer them into it, surely as Roland is trying to steer the approaching tribute into this small wreck of a room that, if things go as he hopes, will be her death. He takes no joy in it, moves with solemn efficiency until the wreck and rubble completely blocks the original path.

To use his hard-earned skill for so little reason, simply to give the monsters lounging on their thrones back in Panem some sport to cheer at, it takes Roland as close to believing in the concept of blasphemy as maybe he will ever get. He's tried to avoid purposeful killing, done a fair job of it, but he'd been under no illusions. He was never going to avoid this forever. Someone he loves might have a chance at surviving this, if no other tribute comes and takes that chance for themselves, and that is reason enough. It's a very simple lever, and a very effective one.

Said loved one would be troubled by this too, though just maybe for slightly different reasons. Which is why, even when Roland had started hearing that other tribute's first, distant noises, he hadn't even thought of telling Signless why he was asking his help blocking the hallway off. The barrier needs to seem solid but get done very quickly, and that'll go better without the reaction most people have to things like this. That need they have to soothe their conscience by arguing, pretending they don't know very well what it is that has to happen. There's no time for that.

The hallway is blocked. A room sits next to the apparent cave-in, its door open, and the door at its other end is open, too. It's a clear way through, quicker than going back, and as extra insurance Roland's taken a bottle out of Signless' medkit, smeared dust and dirt over it, and set it within easy view of that first door. He doesn't know the name on its label but it claims to kill pain, and so is the only part of that medkit that might still be thought valuable now time is so short.

Signless is outside of this little room, safely hidden. Roland is hidden inside it, standing next to a large sheet of metal leaning next to the open doorway. The station makes one of its announcements, five more minutes gone before whatever it is it's counting down to, and once that fades he listens again for that sound of approaching footsteps. Listens, and waits.

Comments

[iphigeneia]

Felicity doesn't immediately recognize the trap. She's so focused on outrunning whatever the automated clock is counting down to that she doesn't even consider that she has real enemies besides the Gamemakers. For a brief moment, she forgets that there are people in the Arena just as desperate as she is to stay alive, to win. It's only when she pauses momentarily to reassess her sense of direction that the panic sets in. Adrenaline pumping, she turns around, frantically reaching for the phaser she has no idea how to handle, just in case of an ambush.

"Hello? Is someone there?" She asks. The only answer she hears is the voice counting backwards.

Satisfied that she is alone and somewhat secure, she presses onward toward the room next to the apparent cave in, unaware that she's being lead into the maze like a cow to slaughter. It's odd, almost out of place but not quite. She cannot put her finger on what seems odd about it, so instead she uses this moment to catch her breath.

[ka_sera_sera]

Quick as he can, Roland moves the sheet of metal to cover the door. Nevermind the noise. It's no longer the time to worry about that. He lunges, forearm held out flat in front of his chest in an attempt to knock her down.

((ooc: edited to apologize, I know this is super short but I just couldn't make anything more happen.))

c:

[iphigeneia]

The clothesline is more than enough to send Felicity slamming to the floor with her breath knocked out of her. She chokes, coughs, gasps for air, unable to even see her attacker, let alone fend him off just yet. She has to breathe first, clear her head with oxygen, before fighting back is an option. "Hgggh!!"

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland could try to end it now, but in this arena he's been more aware of the eyes on all of them, and what the owners of those eyes expect. Not worried about it, but aware. And what they expect, especially now, is a show.

He won't stretch it out much. Wouldn't even if they weren't short on time. Death, especially the death of someone who wasn't attacking him first and may have never done, ought to mean more than that. He is, though, going to play along a little. Enough to draw his forearm back. Not so far that their ever-present audience is likely to spot it, but enough to give the other tribute her air back, and enough to give her some distance from him and a moment to try and use it.

[iphigeneia]

Her blue eyes were wide, but the only expression present was one of confusion and an inability to clearly focus. Once her vision settled, she was able to vaguely recognize Roland, but she didn't know him well enough to know what he was capable of. This was a mistake. She understood that now, but it was too little too late. When his grip loosened, she took in as much air as she could and made the earnest decision that she would fight back. The end was near, she had so little chance left, but there was no way in hell Felicity was going to give up without a fight.

When she recognized her chance, she seized it and went for his arm, nails pressing into his flesh as she did her best to thrash about beneath him.

[ka_sera_sera]

If he were capable of feeling guilt in this particular mindset, it'd be creeping up right about now. Someone needs to teach this girl to break this sort of hold, and to do it properly. As it is, the nails do cut into his skin, draw blood, and Roland lets himself flinch away from it, rolling most of the way off of her.

"Who on earth trained you?" It's alright to ask it, because it could easily be interpreted in exactly the opposite way than the one Roland means. What he's hoping their watchers will hear is, how did you learn to be so wild? What he means is something very different.

It isn't as if she'll be in any state to answer anyway - at least, he expects she won't. The only response he expects, really, is action.

[iphigeneia]

She wants to fight, wanted to scratch and bite and claw her way from him like an animal, and when he recoils she takes that as her cue to stumble away from him as quickly as she can on all fours. There isn't time to get to her feet and scuttle out of his trap to safety, there isn't really even the opportunity to escape from Roland's grasp as he hasn't relented enough. Still, she has to try to get away. She has to try.

"No one on earth." Fee croaks, knowing the end is just around the bend. "The goddess. Artemis."

And with that, she readies herself for what she knows with come, the fatal blow.

[ka_sera_sera]

After the long, strange life he's led Roland no longer quite thinks of gods as just ideas, symbols, tools for telling old stories. He does not quite think of them as real, thinking beings either, but he's still half-serious when he says, "Your goddess could have done a better job."

And if there's any more final line it's that, but a memory makes itself heard, then. The first time he'd died in this world, the woman who'd done it had taken a moment to ask his name. In a place like this, where anyone you kill may well be up and walking around tomorrow, there are some real, practical reasons to do that. He lunges for her, staying on all fours himself, and reaches out to try and grasp her shoulders and get her back once again flat against the ground. Once that's settled one way or another and they've come to another standstill, he'll ask it. "Your name. What is it?"

[iphigeneia]

That answer enrages her, but she knows full well she's been beaten. Blinking back the fear that's threatening to spill over and out of her, she manages to give a quiet answer. "Felicity."

[ka_sera_sera]

For a second, there's clear approval on Roland's face. He knows the fear of death, and knows the kind of strength it takes to beat it back, to stay composed. He nods, takes care to look directly into her eyes.

"Roland," he says, and his hands whip up, one to the back of her skull and one to her jaw. He twists.

Then he leans back, pushes on his knees to stand up. Where was that medicine...? Ah. There.

He takes it, turns, and heads toward Signless' hiding place. There is work to do, and very little time in which to do it.

[69problems]

About halfway through building the barrier is about when Signless realized they weren't making it to trap one of the arena mutts. All the time he's been tucked away behind some rubble he's been going back and forth with himself over exactly how he feels about that, whether he should say something, whether it's even worth it now that the thing is done.

He emerges from his hiding place when he hears footsteps. Looking the other man up and down he's privately relieved that there aren't really any signs of a struggle. No blood. At least it was probably quick and clean, then.

"Here. Let me put those back in the case," is what he finally says, reaching out for the bottle of pills. It might show in the slight frown on his face or the carefully neutral tone to his voice that something is troubling him.

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland lets his fingers brush Signless' as he hands the bottle back, studying him. There's no regret on Roland's face, and no apology in his tone. That was a sorry display just now but it's done, and isn't worth dwelling on overmuch.

"If you've troubles, say them now. May have to do that again before yon machine finishes its count." Before he finishes, he starts to walk. As has been covered - there's the issue of time. Best to have this out now so Signless doesn't decide to try and stop him later.

[69problems]

He falls into step beside Roland, walking at a brisk pace to match the other man's longer stride (of course, a brisk pace is his usual after spending so much of his life traveling on foot).

"It isn't anything that can be helped. I realize that killing is... that many people here consider it necessary. It's done now anyway. But please -- tell me if that's something you plan to make me complicit in."

[ka_sera_sera]

Ah. So that's the problem, rather than the killing itself. Roland looks at Signless a moment, expression searching, before he turns his attention back to his footing. "I needed the help. Can you tell me you'd've given it? Without argument, without delay? We couldn't afford any of that here, and won't, if it happens again later."

[69problems]

The uncomfortable silence that stretches after that question is probably answer enough, but Signless can't just neatly sidestep this conversation by taking the easy out.

"... I can't, no. I will always find taking the life of another person abhorrent, even if I realize sometimes it must be done. But I would feel better knowing what end my actions will have, even if I don't necessarily like it, then I would finding I've been tricked into something I find objectionable."

[ka_sera_sera]

Good as it is that Signless decides to be honest, Roland gives him no credit for it. From someone he calls friend, Roland expects no less.

He shakes his head, slowing a little as he nears a T in the corridor. "Much as I'd like to see you feel better, I'd like to see you live more." His expression when he looks at Signless is made only a little of regret. Mostly what Roland feels is trapped. It was his choice, using Signless' trust in something he knew the man would never agree to, but choosing it means the Gamemakers have - well, not won exactly, but gained a little ground. He's playing their game now, a little more than he was, and he knows it. "If there's a chance for that, I've got to- I'm going to take it."

"It can't happen again, anyway," he says, after a pause. "If we have to trap someone else, you're going to have to choose to help me."

[69problems]

"I know." He feels trapped too -- trapped because he knows Roland is right, and because he can't ask this man not to try to keep him safe in the way he best knows how.

"I'll deal with my reservations if it comes to that. I want to see you live more than I want to keep my hands clean." Not that they're completely clean even now, but that's not the point.

[ka_sera_sera]

The honesty may not impress Roland, but the speed of the response, perhaps visibly, does. How quickly Signless puts his pride and his ethical ideals aside to prepare to do whatever may need to be done - that particular quality is rare, and Roland takes note of it.

This part of the station he knows less about, so he chooses a direction based on little more than an impulse. It is, though Roland will not live long enough to find out, the correct one. "Wish we'd had time to talk this over before," Roland says, which is not an apology but is as close as Signless is going to get for a situation in which Roland is so certain his actions were, if not right, then justified. "Can we, now? Can I tell you when I'm about to -" To kill, but in this situation, with this man, he nearly stumbles over an attempt to say it aloud, "- do the same again, and not risk you slowing things up?"

[69problems]

He'll never really be able to put aside his ideals but he knows very well that the rest of the world doesn't turn according to them, particularly in the arena. There are times when survival outweighs keeping the moral highground.

"If I can trust you to only do harm to the extent that it is absolutely necessary, then you can trust me not to stand in your way."

aaaand last one?

[ka_sera_sera]

"You can." He breathes out, heavy, thinking on the slow, clunky thing the girl's ambush had been. On the fear on her face that hadn't needed to be there. He could, he thinks, have done it before she'd even had time for more than a moment of fear. "I take no more joy in this than you do."

He puts a hand high on Signless' back as he makes the next turn down the tunnels, briefly searching his face to check how he takes the contact. Looking for anger. "But I'll see you out of this, if I can. No matter the cost."

YEP I think we can call this done

[69problems]

Signless chooses not to address how ominous 'no matter the cost' sounds. He knows that in this situation it's not dramatics so much as a simple statement of fact, even if this implications are ones he doesn't like.

"That's settled, then," he says, and there's no anger in him -- just quiet resignation to the fact that this is the best they're both going to get. He loops an arm around Roland's waist.