thearena | [OPEN] All the players marching to a different drum

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[OPEN] All the players marching to a different drum

WHO| Dr. Klim and you!
WHAT| Sigma lights a fire at the bottom of a crevasse and is trapped like a rat.
WHEN| Sometime during the third week of Arena 5.
WHERE| At the bottom of one of the larger crevasses.
WARNINGS/NOTES| Possible violence, Sigma's powers are active if you want to make use of them. Fighting is great, but if you want to fight and do very serious damage, give me a shout.

The temperature dropped sharply as the sun began to set. Sigma staggered across the snowfield, wiping blood from beneath the right side of his glasses. The droplets landed in the snow and made a trail behind him he hoped would disappear in the wind. He hadn't been keeping heat on his metal eye the way he should have and it was now frozen to the skin around his socket. It tore and bled as his frames brushed the top, but screwing it off would rip off skin and cause an infection. He needed to stop, needed to start a fire...

As wandering was all he could do to keep himself alive, the old man had traveled far the past few days and steadily approached one of the Arena's boundaries. Before him stretched a dark, empty crevasse. Looking along the fissure in the earth, it seemed to be about two metres thick and ran for a good mile. As the light was still in the sky, he could barely make out the bottom, but it wasn't impossibly far. As deadly as it was, it looked almost welcoming to the Doctor: a dark place to hide and light a fire where he could not clearly be seen. If he delayed finding shelter for any longer, night would fall, and his infirmities would be much more deadly than the beacon his fire would make in the darkness below. Steeling himself, he slowly lowered himself into the mouth of the crevasse. He spent the next hour climbing carefully to the bottom.

Once there, the darkness was too much even for Sigma's cybernetic eye to cut through. Though hidden from the wind, there was also a bone-chilling cold. Deciding that he had had enough, he sank to his knees and spilled open a silver canister. From it he withdrew one of the only sponsor items he'd received in the entire duration of the Game: materials with which to start a fire.

He lit a match, the small heat it gave off instantly relieving him. Now with enough light to see, Sigma assembled the firewood and fuel as quickly as his fingers would move. He lit the tinder and a small, roaring fire started before him.

Finished his work for the night, Sigma sighed and sank to the icy floor, completely exhausted. He removed his dark glasses and leaned towards the flame to slowly heat his face. The skin around his eye felt raw and bloody, but the fire was merciful. Once he had warmed up, he planned to remove the implant...

Waiting for his body temperature to climb, Sigma glared into the fire. Beneath a pounding headache he could feel the faint resonance of the morphogenetic field once more... It was the first time he had felt aware of his powers since his abduction. He closed his eyes and concentrated, wondering if there was a warning one of his quantum selves had to give him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What happened to your face?"

It's been a long day. Eponine's death alone would have wiped Howard out, but between murdering Draco and meeting again with Alpha, then wandering for hours and hours through the snow looking for Sigma, he's completely beat. The injured ankle that wasn't even evident last time has turned into a horrible limp. He saw the fire and approached, hardly with enough grace to really be sneaking. He probably would have accidentally telegraphed his approach with a stranger, but it doesn't matter, really, as it's Sigma. His not-dead ally.

He sits down across the fire from Sigma. He still looks skittish, like he expects Sigma to leap at him and kill him now that he's alone, but even if he did try to bolt, he's too tired and injured to get far. He's resigned himself to the possibility that Sigma will kill him.

He's wearing only Eponine's clothing now, identifiable by the feminine cut and the lack of a slash in the side that was present last time he saw Sigma. He couldn't go around wearing his own blood-covered parka. Now the only evidence of his crimes is the faint spatter of blood down his neck, which came from his nose rather than from Draco anyway, and on his boots.

"I went back to the hole and you weren't there." It's not an accusation. Howard would have left too. Even with the images of the dead in the sky telling Sigma that Howard was still alive, if he was looking, Eponine's was up there enough to show that Howard's quest ended in miserable failure.

Sigma noted his guest's arrival with a shout, standing to attack as they came to the fire, but immediately relaxed upon recognizing who it was. The brief shot of adrenaline wasted away quickly, and Sigma groaned as his pain returned. "I am getting too old for surprises, Howard," Sigma sighs, putting a hand on his heart and reclaiming his seat. He daubs the blood from his wound with the wrist of his jacket. As blood flow returned to the frostbitten area, the bleeding grew steadily worse.

He occupied himself with this task as he spoke. "I did not think you would return for me. I left, was careless and ruined my eye. It seems the both of us are in rough shape," he says wearily, glancing at Howard's leg.

Finally, he looked up, hoping to meet Howard's eyes. "I am glad to find you still alive," he admitted.

Howard gets some small pleasure out of making Sigma jump - beneath the scar tissue, there's still the occasional glimpse of the teenage prankster who loves nothing more than getting the better of people. But the fear that, well, Sigma actually is going to keel over from a heart attack takes precedence, and as such he mutters a curt 'sorry' and reminds himself not to do it again.

He stretches his leg out and pulls the boot off. He's using one of Alpha's broken arrows to keep his ankle straight, but the way he's bandaged it has come loose, and he needs to tighten it again.

"I'm glad you didn't kick the bucket while I was gone too." He looks up and meets Sigma's gaze; his own eyes are earnest, sad, there's something yearning about them. As if he does mean it, because he hasn't had try to stop him doing something stupid in a long time, and he doesn't know what to do with that sort of emotion. And there's shame, too, so he lowers his eyes.

"I found her body, before they took it. I tried to...they used to teach CPR at our school, you know, because we lived by the water, but I always ditched gym and health. I didn't know how to do it right." She'd probably have stayed dead anyway, but it's hard not to feel extra responsible.

When watching Howard's sadness became uncomfortable, Sigma looked back into the fire. The hint of the premonition he had earlier had disappeared, but that was certainly a good sign. "It's not your fault," he says softly, and without any of the gruffness he had used towards the boy so far. "It would not have changed a thing."

He had heard the canon blast from their cave. Minutes later, his sponsor supplies had arrived, and Sigma had not reacted well. His only consolation that night was that Howard's face had not been among the dead during the anthem. Even if he suspected the boy would turn on him, it was nice to have some illusion of trust. Not to mention that Sigma would never wish for the death of a child.

"You were kind to her. For that, especially in a sport like this, you should be proud." He wasn't ready to judge the content of Howard's character just yet, but how he had treated the girl was what lead Sigma to consider an alliance with him in the first place.

"She's my friend." He says it as a plain statement, as if it explains everything. Friends have never been in boundless supply for him, and that she was his friend without using him is more foreign still. They have - had? - a strange and special bond, through their similar neuroses and beliefs that the world has snubbed them somehow.

He makes a little noise of pain as he pulls the bandages tight around his ankle. It's swollen now, more than it was last time, and he has a little trouble getting his foot and the splint back into the boot. He looks as if he can't bear the thought of moving any further so he just flops over in the snow and lays on his side.

Amazing that he came back to Sigma, really. For a while there he suspected that Sigma was going to try and get into Eponine's good graces and force Howard out of the little trio - he was convinced Eponine was the nexus around which they were rotating. But that isn't the case; she's gone, and there's still some sort of familiarity there, if not full trust.

He doesn't want to think about Eponine right now. Not if he doesn't know if he'll see her again.

"So. Siggy Stardust." He wraps his arms around himself to get more comfortable. The fire's sending spots dancing across his vision. "What's your story?"

The Doctor shrugged slightly. Friends were a fickle concept to him; he had spent 45 years of his life waiting to be reunited with those he had called his 'friends', only to find that they no longer cared. Unwilling to press the issue further, Sigma is about to warn Howard to be careful with his leg when Howard opened his mouth first.

The atrocious nickname made Sigma shudder and the scolding tone returned to his voice. "That's enough with your names!" If he had to choose, he liked 'Sigs' better; there was no way he was allowing Howard to call him by the same name Lagomorph had given him.

It was clear the two of them would be stranded down here for some time, and getting to know the other may strengthen their alliance. Still, whatever he said now would be broadcast on live television, and his past wasn't a particularly noble story. "What does it matter? I was a Doctor of Genetics back home," he answered. "The rest is long, boring and complicated. You wouldn't believe a word."

"Whatever, Siggy Pop." Howard can keep doing doing this all night. He curls up a bit more, wrinkling his nose as the heat of the heat of the fire feels a little painful. "Siggy Pop and the Stooge. Search & Destroy."

Sad how that used to be a classic song and not a valid method of winning the arena.

"Try me. I have a pretty insane, complicated story too that no one believes, so I'll cut you a little slack on the details."

Sigma went a little red, the boy's teasing embarrassing him. Did he have any idea how long before his time that was? He didn't have an equally teasing nickname to give Howard in return, so maybe if he ignored him, it would go away. "Fine. I suppose I can try, but I don't promise it will improve your opinion of me." He also hoped Howard would share as well, not wanting to be the only one to unload his past on national television.

Where to begin... He looked to what little of the sky he could see. He hadn't thought that he wouldn't be able to observe the death toll from here... "I should start by saying that this isn't my first rodeo, so to speak."

Howard smirks a little at Sigma's reaction. It's a ghoulish expression, on his bruised face with his flattened nose, but somewhat innocent as well. A playground face.

"Don't worry, mine'll make you lose faith in the whole human race. " He sits up, crosses his legs. He'll go out and see the anthem when that begins, but they must have at least an hour yet, maybe more. He has to, even if the thought of seeing Draco's face in the sky makes him want to vomit. "It's not your first death match?"

If only he had lost hope in the human race before now, it would have saved him significant heartache. "Correct. 45 years ago, I was a participant in a 'game' where only the winner was allowed to live." He fidgeted, wondering how he was going to explain something as complicated as the Nonary Game. "The true purpose of the game was to mentally and physically torture an individual so intensely that their dormant psychic abilities would awaken. Their powers were strong enough to manipulate time, and so you can imagine why the gamemaker wished to harness them. ...Unfortunately, that particular player was me."

Sigma waited for a laugh. He had warned Howard it would be an unbelievable story. Falling silent, he folded his hands in his lap, and looked quietly at Howard. This story would require a bit of listener participation. "Allow me to take a step back. 'The Trolley Problem'. Have you heard of it...?"

Howard doesn't laugh. In fact, he doesn't find that funny at all. In his head he's been building a narrative of Sigma becoming a doctor of genetics to use science(!) to restore the weird arm and eye, like some sort of comic book villain who's seen the light.

The story he hears is a lot more believable and sadly, very easy to sympathize with. It's not exactly like Howard's situation or conspiracy theories but has enough parallels to be uncomfortable.

He remembers a five year-old who could bring the rain. Documents about a girl who could walk through walls, tortured by the military until she was pushed too far and fused to the building. The human lie detector back at camp, who had been driven crazy by either the testing or the isolation afterwards.

"No. I haven't heard it." He looks very serious, and his voice is low.

Satisfied that he was taken seriously, Sigma continued. "It is a problem used in neuroethics and psychology to test an individual's way of thinking. It comes in many forms, but I will give the one to you that is the most relevant: You stand beside a set of tracks, within reach of a switch that will change the course of an oncoming train. The train is currently headed towards a fork in its path. On one side of the fork, the direction where the train is currently set to cross, stand five foolish teenagers playing on the tracks and listening to music." Remembering who he was talking to, Sigma gave an apologetic nod. Perhaps this test was somewhat ageist, but this was the version of the dilemma he had been taught. "Once the train crosses the fork, they will not have enough time to flee. They cannot hear the train, or any of your warnings - nor does the conductor see them."

Sigma made a transitional gesture. "On the other side of the fork is an old, deaf repairman, currently fixing damaged track. He ensured the switch at your side was set to the opposite fork before he began working. He does not notice the train nor the children."

He closed his eyes. "The dilemma is such: only you know what is going to happen, and only you have the ability to save the teenager's lives. If you do nothing, five people will die. If you take action, an innocent life will be taken by your hand, but five others will survive. Do you - or do you not - pull the switch? Choose."

He stared at Howard, fully expecting an answer.

"I don't pull the switch. Not...not because I can't take responsibility, but..." Well, that's partially the reason. The other reason is that possibly the only thing he hates more than adults are his peers in groups - well, except maybe babies. He's not exactly a people person.

He twitches and glances towards the outside when he hears something, but it's just birds. Honestly, the idea of being able to play God like that, to have that sort of power, is strangely appealing to Howard. He's felt so powerless for so long.

"The repairman knew he wouldn't hear the train coming and took precautions. It's not fair for me to undo those just because some idiot teenagers are playing on the fucking tracks." Then again, most things in life aren't fair. "Maybe they deserve to get run down. People die for less all the time."

Edited 2013-02-02 00:13 (UTC)

Dr. Klim nodded gravely. "I do not agree that they deserved to die for their foolishness, but that is otherwise a fair answer. Now... let us say, hypothetically, if we were to raise the number of people on that side of the tracks... to six billion." It sounded ridiculous, but the horror of it was that this tale was no longer fiction. "And the number of repairmen working on the tracks to ten. Does that change your answer?"

His expression grew dark. "In other words, if you do nothing, almost every human on earth will die. Would you kill ten innocent people to prevent that from happening?" This time, he does not expect an answer, so indicated as Sigma hangs his head. It was truly an impossible choice that no one should be expected to make.

Howard wants to shoot back that that's not a difficult answer at all - but the truth is, it is. He doesn't know what he'd do, or where the line is where numbers outweigh his self-righteousness about careless behavior.

So instead he doesn't say anything and looks at the fire. If he looks anywhere else, his eyes have so adjusted to the light that it's blurry.

"Did you have to make that choice?"

The old man takes a moment to swallow his emotions. When Sigma finally speaks, it is with a detached, hollow voice that makes him no longer sound like himself. It is the mask he had used as Zero, an uncaring, emotionless being to whom the end justified the means - the traits he saw in his mentor. "Yes. On April 13th, 2029, the world faced a large-scale nuclear disaster and over six billion people died. The handful of humans who survived were left in dire circumstances, and almost entirely sterile. As I was the only one with the power to travel through time, I was going to be sent back by the gamemaker to stop that from happening... but to do so, I had to spend the 45 years that followed planning the death of those ten people to satisfy the conditions."

Suddenly, he laughed. "I killed the nine, but when I returned to the past and it came time for the tenth, I couldn't bring myself to do it. All that suffering and I failed. A waste..." He wished he didn't feel so sorry for himself. He was still alive, after all. "But that is not going to happen anymore. I will not play along with these people."

Edited 2013-02-02 01:05 (UTC)

Howard shudders at the way Sigma's voice sounds. It reminds him of Orc, the first time Orc killed someone. He wonders if he'll sound like that the next time he says Draco's name.

"That sucks."

Inappropriate, but he doesn't know what else to say. There doesn't seem to be anything appropriate to say. It seems rude to ask why Sigma rathered it all be a waste than kill the last person. Rude and pointless.

So instead he pulls one of the cans of food from inside his - Eponine's - parka and holds it out to Sigma. It's the best and only way of support he knows how to express. Food is vital, only to be parted with in pressing circumstances or among friends.

Sigma found Howard's response perfectly appropriate. He had nearly put the ordeal behind him and wasn't looking for anything more than an acknowledgement. Still, his ally's offering pulls him from the past, and Sigma's expression brightens. "Thank you," he says sincerely, accepting the can. He had gone without food this evening, just one of many hungry nights to come. "I will save you the second half."

He prevents himself from ripping it open and devouring it. Instead he takes his time, opening the lip and placing the can close to the fire, hoping to enjoy hot food for the first time this Arena. "Your turn," he reminds him, though he is dreading what he might hear.

"You're welcome." He watches the way Sigma luxuriates in the food, maybe trying to make it last longer. It's strange, to see that in someone else. Maybe long enough in the arena will give everyone else the weird food compulsions he and Eponine already have.

Howard bites his lip and regrets it, as he forgets how chapped they get here. "When I was thirteen, I mean, a little more than a year ago, my parents and all the other adults in town disappeared. There were four hundred people left under the age of fifteen, and, uh..."

He knows nothing he says can adequately convey the horror of the aftermath. He stares into the fire, hoping that it'll blot out the memories that are bubbling back up. "We didn't have enough food or any power. We didn't have clean water. We, um, we started dying from diseases we never heard of. The animals got smart, and they started attacking us, and four days in someone let a bunch of coyotes loose in the daycare, and just..."

It's difficult for him to tell it in chronological order. Things didn't happen linearly, not in his memory. Shades of hunger and thirst turned into stains of malnutrition and then starvation, cast over the entire series of events, and he can't remember what came first, the lynchings or the plague, the serial murders or the insects.

So he just concludes with "you ever read Lord of the Flies?"

Edited 2013-02-02 05:53 (UTC)

Sigma cannot hide his disgust, and he needs to turn away at the mention of the coyotes. He felt a similar revulsion when he had learned these Games were originally played with children. Having been hospitalized in a bunker at the time, Sigma had not witnessed much of the apocalypse he failed to prevent. Still, he imagined what Howard had seen could rival the horrors of what the mass extinction and the years that followed had been like. A world without adults, or a world without children... he could not decide which was worse.

There are questions he wants to ask, but Howard did not interrupt his story. "A very long time ago. But I understand what you must mean by your analogy..."

"In that book it took them what, two weeks to totally fall apart? It took us two days. By a year in one third of us were dead." He chews on his tongue and wraps his arms tighter around himself not for warmth, but for the feeling of protection. "We found evidence that the government was doing it for an experiment, to try and get kids with superpowers. We didn't find out what happened to our parents or everyone else."

Which was why it had been so important that Eponine not just disappear into the snow. He needed to see a body. Even if it was heartbreaking to find her frozen and lifeless in the snow, at least it was conclusive. At least he'd tried.

"Anyway. That's why I know how to catch birds." He wishes he had a stick or something to stoke the fire. It would give him something mindless to do with his hands. And at least Sigma hasn't said anything laden with pity or judgment. Howard doesn't want to have to justify that the way he is now was a necessary survival mechanism, not a conscious choice to be hostile and paranoid.

Of course, Howard has no special abilities beyond his winning personality and encyclopedic knowledge of the Rolling Stones. So between him and Sigma, that's two of them who've failed to live up to the goals others made them suffer for.

Edited 2013-02-02 18:37 (UTC)

He couldn't bear to imagine those kids, forced into violence until many of them were dead. It was a visceral pain that only those who had children could know - Sigma thought that if Howard spent more time around adults, he would come to learn that. But it suddenly dawned on him that it was an emotion Capitol citizens lacked, and he fell into a silent fury. If any of them were listening, they would surely find Howard's story exciting and not the least bit morbid...

His body finally warmed by the fire, Sigma took the silence that followed to power off his eye implant. Immediately blind on that side, Sigma carefully unscrewed the attachment and slid it off the base, leaving only a silver stud sitting in his eye socket surrounded by bloody gashes. It left him vulnerable, perhaps his own way of showing Howard he now trusted him. He turned over the glass in his hands, staring at it awhile. "I see," was all he could think to say. He suspected Howard did not want his sympathy.

It did explain a lot about the boy - he thought of Akane, who had been locked in an incinerator at nine years old by an equally corrupt organization. He saw firsthand what that did to her as an adult, how it made her resentful, murderous, calculating. There were times he found himself wondering if she cared for him or their son at all, or if it was only part of her well-rehearsed persona she used to pretend to be human.

Their conversation had reminded him. "Earlier, you mention you had been in the Arena before..."

Howard hopes it isn't weird that right then, Sigma elicits a giggle from him. I see, the cyborg said as he pulled out his eye. His eyes follow the path of the glass, watching as it reflects the light of the fire. It's a better alternative than looking at Sigma's face, at the countenance and at the black, bloody pit where his eye was. Maybe sympathy makes you look older, because suddenly Sigma seems like the weight of the world has painted itself into the lines of his face.

"I was in the one before this. Eponine was too. I got a pretty nasty infection, so I didn't last long. I don't remember most of it." He shrugs. He doesn't really care to recount it. It's too fresh, and he was so scared, and he still isn't entirely sure of what transpired. "It hurts to die, but you feel alright when they bring you back."

It's as if they keep you in good physical shape so you can absorb the event of your own death and resurrection in relative peace. Howard had gone through the motions of whatever the Escort and Stylists told him to do in a sort of daze before he tucked that thought, like so many others, into the part of his mind he tries to only deal with at night.

So this was to be an endless cycle. Sigma considered the several ways in which he had already died: vaporization, suicide, lethal injection, strangulation, head trauma... he wondered if he would soon add 'freezing to death' to that list. "They hadn't told me death was reversible in these parts." Sigma says this dryly, as though he isn't surprised. He had to applaud them, among all the recent scientific discoveries sparked by his work in Genetics back home, resurrecting the deceased was not one of them. He hadn't considered researching such a thing: when he already had the ability to return from death with time travel, why would he want to use science? "I suppose that is the idea with first-time players. By the time they have gotten used to killing to survive, they bring them right back and there is no end to it."

"Nobody bothered telling me. At least, you know. Next time I'm not gonna be so afraid." The fear had been the worst part. Howard picks up a handful of snow, crumbles it in his hands, and drops it to the ground again.

He sees something in the sky out of the corner of his eye. "Hey, is that-" He gets up but squeaks in pain as his ankle goes into agony. He waves a hand around at the opening to their hideout instead, sitting back down.

"Siggy Pop, we got a sponsor gift!"

It's a single can of food from Eponine, with the note 'I'm sorry. Make sure you win. -'Ponine'.

Sigma moves from his end of the fire closer to Howard as the two of them inspect the sponsor gift. Its presence is enough to give Sigma the grace to ignore his new and terrible nickname. He is sure the present is intended for Howard, but it lightens the man's spirits nonetheless. "She's alive," he states with relief. Saying it out loud seems to make it certain. "It appears she is safe after all. Thank you for letting us know, Lady Eponine..."

They had heat, they had plenty of food, someone they could trust, and a warm place to sleep - Sigma had unfurled his sleeping bag by the fire when he reached the bottom of the Crevasse. It was the happiest and most secure Sigma had felt in a very long time.

Howard sets the food aside - he trusts Sigma not to take it - mouthing the words Eponine wrote him silently, over and over. "Yeah. She's alive. She's..."

One of the many skills he left the FAYZ with was the ability to cry quietly. He folds the note up into a tiny scrap of paper and tucks it into his pocket, then covers his face with his gloved hands. He doesn't make much noise, but his shoulders shake with deep sobs.

She's alive, and he's still so angry at her for letting herself die like that. Angry at her because he killed Malfoy in her name, and he didn't want to do that, not really. Angry because his most recent memory of her is her pale, frozen face lolling in the snow.

Angry at himself because not only couldn't he save her, but he couldn't even convince her to save herself.

And he's so grateful she's alive.

"Sorry," he says to Sigma, who has to be finding this whole thing very awkward.

Sigma looked on sympathetically as Howard cried. The old man doesn't respond, only shakes his head slowly. He understands, Howard, he does, and sometimes it is necessary to cry and not a sign of weakness. Sigma knows the boy hates being touched as much as he does, but with a touch so gentle and unimposing it seems impossible it could belong to such a powerful cybernetic arm, he places his hand on Howard's shoulder, then moves back to his spot to give him some space.

He was done holding out on his judgment: Howard was a good kid, Sigma decided.

He had also decided he wanted him to win.

Howard flinches at the touch, but doesn't draw away. Instead he just stays where he is, with Sigma's hand on his shoulder until it's removed, until it's out of his system and the sadness and confusion is replaced with the dull, focused apathy of survival.

They need sleep. They both need sleep. He hiccups a bit and brings his hands down.

"Thanks." His voice is quiet and croaky. "I can take first watch if you want. Figure we can do about three hours each, alternating."

He's exhausted, but he knows that sleep won't come easy. Maybe Sigma will have a better time of it. Howard trusts Sigma more than Alpha, at the moment, and would rather sleep here. It's not really in Howard's nature to sense sympathetic souls, but the combination of regret and defeat in Sigma's attitude is catnip to Howard's sense of camaraderie.

Sigma is ready to argue, to try and explain to him that he believes he can foresee danger, down here- when he catches on that Howard might want time to himself. The self-preservationist the boy was, Sigma knew that if he really wanted to sleep first, he would have insisted so.

And even if Sigma would wake up in the event of a death prediction and there was no point to keeping watch, what would they do? Share the sleeping bag? He was sure neither of them wanted that. Besides, there was no absolute guarantee, with his powers. For all he knew, they were already inside a doomed timeline.

"Very well. Be sure to wake me up." Finishing off the food he had placed by the fire (and saving half the can for Howard as he had promised, their new rations could go towards breakfast), Sigma curled into his sleeping bag and rolled onto his side. Though it would only be for a short time, the promise of a restful sleep without needing to stay on guard was extremely reassuring. "Good night."

"Good night." The words are awkward. Howard's not used to wishing anyone goodnight, not since his parents. He never really said that to Orc, just "go to sleep".

He lets the fire burn low, ears pricked to any sound from the outside, eyes focused on the entrance. There are cracks of ice and the pop of the fire, but no sounds of threats. He can stay up all night like this, if he has to. In a way, he dreads going to sleep and wading through the stress of the day as it takes its subconscious forms, and he dreads waking up because he knows he talks and whimpers in his sleep and doesn't want to face Sigma after that.

So staying up, in spite of the exhaustion, is a good way to stall. And the monofocus on the sounds outside and the flickering of stars is a good way to blot out all the thoughts - Eponine, Draco, Alpha, Sigma - encroaching around the periphery of his mind, at least for three hours.

He'd messed up.

For all he'd spent the last week or so exploring various crevasse, this was the first time he'd gotten seriously lost. The first few times he'd gotten turned around, he'd managed to find his way back to a familiar location, but this time... this time he'd been lost since about midday.

And he had no idea where he was and the crevasse was too deep for him to simply climb out.

Alex grumbled under his breath in frustration, realizing he'd have to spend the night down in the crevasse. At least the wind couldn't reach him down here, and if he could find an ice cave, he would maybe be able to stay warm enough. If. He hadn't seen a single one all day, and now it was so dark he could barely see, even with his protective glasses off.

And then he spotted a faint glow ahead. A fire? Alex considered backtracking. He didn't want to get chased through the crevasse when he was already lost, potentially by someone who was actually familiar with this section. But the cold was starting to seep through his layers and the thought of a fire was too much to resist. Making sure his supplies were secure on his back in case he did need to do a runner, Alex continued forward toward the light.

The Doctor's concentration paid off as a memory from another future came rushing into Dr. Klim's mind. He closed his eye and watched...

A cracking noise behind him. Another Sigma rises from his seat in panic and spins around. Someone is struggling in the ice some distance ahead of him, and by the time this version of himself can get close enough to help it is already too late.

If by a trap of the Gamemakers or a force of nature they cannot know, but as a young man approached Sigma's camp a pit opened up in the earth where he stood. The ground below them was not as solid as they thought, but ran deeper with random crevices concealed by loose snow and thin ice, and the boy's weight was enough to cause the floor under him to collapse. Hanging at the mouth of the hole he struggled, but eventually lost his grip and fell, sucking snow and rock deeper into the earth with him.

Sigma approaches from the wall, crawling on his hands and knees to not further disturb the pitfall. Lighting his last match, he gazes down the hole, the mangled corpse of the boy barely visible at the bottom. A cannon blasts...

The esper sat up, stunned. In the next precious seconds he spent thinking over what he had seen, he heard someone approaching. Abandoning his camp, he rose and dashed towards the footsteps. He had already paid for his kindness earlier, giving precious food to a stranger who then killed herself, and he prayed he wouldn't live to regret this as well.

As the young man he had seen in his vision comes into view, Sigma holds out his hand in a gesture for him to stop. "No! Do not move!" His exasperation should make it clear that this is no threat, but a warning.

Alex froze at the shout. Apparently his approach had been heard and his presence was not welcome. He shifted his right foot back a little, settling his weight evenly. With the man standing between him and the fire, Alex couldn't see whether or not there was a weapon, and he had to at least assume there could be one. He held up his hands to show he wasn't holding anything, palms out and fingers spread.

"Whoa, I don't mean any trouble," he said, reminding himself of the small step down he'd taken a couple meters back. It wouldn't do to turn and run only to lay himself flat because he tripped. "I saw the glow from your fire, that's all."

Sigma sighed loudly in relief. It appears he made it in time... "I don't care! We don't have the time- if you come any closer, the crevasse will collapse," he spat. He was nearly screaming at the poor boy, and by now was out of breath. Coughing, he pointed to the place he had seen him die, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. "There- Just a few steps- The ice and snow are thin..."

The old man looked so exhausted that it seemed more like a thinly-veiled excuse to prevent the younger, more capable man from crossing into his territory and killing him.

Alex gave the man a dubious look. Was this guy for real? Or was he playing some sort of mind game in order to make Alex drop his guard. How could he possibly know there was a thin spot in the ice, the snow was undisturbed between them.

"If you want me to go away just say so," Alex replied, wondering if the other Tribute was feigning exhaustion. Given the environment, it was entirely possible, but so was the potential for deception.

Sigma couldn't believe he was arguing with him. Why was he still standing in the same damn place?! To someone who had just watched the other die, his request seemed perfectly reasonable. "Do you think this is a joke?! If you wish to share the fire, be my guest - but you must approach from the wall!"

Sigma demonstrated, pressing himself against the wall of ice and gesturing for the boy to come closer. He was getting increasingly concerned, worried the crack may still give way and drag the nearby Alex inside. "Look - if you don't listen to me, you're going to die! So you can go the way I told you, or you can wait down there for the Hovercrafts to come for your body!"

Edited 2013-02-04 20:06 (UTC)

Alex wasn't sure what to make of this guy. He seemed pretty earnest, but his insistence that Alex walk in a specific spot just sounded so suspect. It wouldn't be the first time he'd met someone who hid malice behind a façade of benevolence.

But there was the fire. Either he took a chance this guy was actually sincere in his belief the ice was thin, or he spent a night freezing. Freezing to death wasn't all that appealing. And if he was going to get blitzed, well, he at least was already wary, and he knew how to fight.

Alex stepped toward the wall then made his way forward toward the other Tribute.

Finally, Sigma's anxiousness subsided as the teen made his way across the snow. "Good man," he smiled, and instead of attacking the other as he was sure most of the viewers expected, he moved away from him. "Make sure you return in such a way, as well."

Satisfied, Sigma turned to return to his camp, though not in such a way that he could not see the other out of his peripheral vision. "What is your name?"

Once he'd made his way past the 'unsafe ice', Alex stayed where the other Tribute could see him easily, having noticed how he was carefully being kept in sight.

"Alex. Alex Rider."

Sigma appreciated the boy's efforts. It seemed the other meant no harm. He had made the right choice, after all... "I see. Well, Mr. Rider, congratulations on still being alive. My name is Sigma Klim, and I apologize for the dramatics."

Now near the fire, Sigma gestured for the other to take a seat. "It was the only way I believed you would listen."

"Just 'Alex' is fine," he said as he took off his bundle of supplies and sat down. "I'm too young to be a Mister." Alex fixed Sigma with a curious look. "How did you know the ice was weak there? I couldn't see anything that indicated otherwise."

The Doctor nodded apologetically. It had been instinct to speak politely to the boy, he hadn't remembered that it was condescending to refer to a young man as 'Mister.' Having met so few teenagers in his adulthood, he had fallen out of touch.

"Ah... Yes, Alex, then," he corrected quickly. "As for your question: Where I am from, there are quite a number of us with extrasensory abilities. I had thought the Capitol had somehow stripped me of my power, but as you approached... I suppose, if I were to put it bluntly... I watched you die. Rather, I foresaw it."

Making a rather simple concept long winded was another bad habit of his.

Alex was rather used to long winded explanations. Either he was getting one from Blunt about yet another mission, or he was getting monologued at by some psychopath bent on killing millions of people. Or he was sitting in French class listening to a lecture on verb conjuration.

Sigma's was a little outside the norm though, and Alex raised an eyebrow at the end.

"So, you're saying you can see the future?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[OPEN] All the players marching to a different drum

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found a typo, must fix it

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typoed 8|

nbd~

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