thearena | Lightning Strikes Twice

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Lightning Strikes Twice

There were no sign ups involved this time, this was an off-worlder idea which means the off-worlders clearly have every desire to see this through; you signed up with your consent. The mission is to be held in the evening, so the morning is spent preparing, stocking up the hovercraft with medical supplies, arming everyone, donning the now familiar all black attire. When the alert is sent out, it's simply to gather in the hanger and begin loading.

As promised, there's no sign of a 13-issued leader involved, it's on the mission team and it's assigned tactical head to lead themselves; all Webb gives the group is a chipper smile and 'Good Luck.'

The sun is just beginning it's descent when the hovercraft leaves the hanger. The flight isn't nearly as long as the one to District 3, but it's long enough that the sun has dipped below the horizon when the hovercraft stops. Stopping doesn't mean landing, however. The team's resident off-worlder pilot comes on over the speaker with given instructions: time to strap up and get ready to do a little sky-diving.

The plan is simple really. Should the hackers do their job, the storms will do as they're told and strike the dome below the hovercraft all at the same time, breaking the barrier and making a hole big enough for the strike team to carry out the rescue. Hackers strapped in and strike team ready to zipline down, the hovercraft's door opens to the windy outside, allowing a wonderful view of the bright flash and deafening crash a minute later as the weather codes carry out their destruction.

Time to move.

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Half the time, he thinks he's forgotten what it is to be alien. The other half, he feels nothing but, a foreigner in a land he doesn't understand, with just enough similarities to throw him off. For all he wanted his people safe, for all he wanted Capitol to come on down, for all he wanted motherfucking war... he'd never thought of an end to the games.

There was something inherently natural about the games. Excluding the returning to life and doing it as when they were all of age or well over, rather than just waking up post-pupation, it really wasn't so much an unknown. Rescue is though. He'd never considered rescue in his trials either. He thinks in some ways the trials negated ever wanting for it. If they'd known not what a rescue was just as waking up to the worst, how could they ever need it when they were grown?

But here they are, saving a bunch of children. He ain't fault his matesprit for the idea. He thinks it good, really. He just ain't so good as she, he supposes.

He lands in the arena and is more faltering for his lack of knowing in what all to do. He ain't sure how much he can help, he only knows it's more than anything he could do with a communicator, what with his lacking preach and all. A few on that line get asking how he's doing, but he can no more answer than ask, so he just goes about his way. Maybe if all someone's needing a partner. If not, he's got a sharp eye and night vision.

It wasn't even the violence that bothered Psii. Even in the wild away from institution and tyranny, trolls were violent to each other, and Psii would rather defend himself than emulate Signless's pacifism. It was the way those Capitolites in power decreed that some should suffer more than others, and the ones who suffered were conveniently not them.

Psii failed to save his District's kid, Irri. He hadn't been able to find him before his demise. This sort of thing was the stuff of Psii's daymares. He hadn't even known the kid, but he felt like he should have done more, somehow. How the hell could he call himself one of Signless's rebels if he couldn't even save one wiggler from the injustice of Panem's caste system? Maybe he should have used his mask constantly to fly around looking for him, dangerous as the resulting fatigue might have been.

For now, Psii was on foot brooding and foraging. His "weapon" was little more than a piece of metal sharpened against a rock and tied to a stick, and his sack was cobbled together from torn cloth. He hadn't gone for the Cornucopia, preferring to pass up that bloodbath this time around. This was his largest arena to date, and like many trolls, he instinctively sought the safety of solitude.

Imagine his surprise when he spotted another of his species in the distance, and it wasn't Karkat.

The Shit! about to escape from his mouth was cut short into a series of rasping throat sounds and fruitlessly mouthing lips. He'd had occasional trouble speaking (and even moving) since he breathed that stupid gas. It was definitely some neurological weapon designed to impede his brain functions. The fact that it still affected him weeks later frightened him. He, the one who always warned people about arena deaths being a dangerous gamble, almost wished he'd hurry up and die stupidly so he could be revived and not have to think about the long-term implications of this disability. He wished he'd learned sign language from Nill when he got the chance.

Perhaps his silence in this moment was for the best; after all, he didn't know if this really was Initiate. It could be a trick to make him call out and subsequently get culled by something disguised as an ally. The Gamemakers had a track record of playing with Tributes' emotions like that. Psii decided to keep as quiet as possible and watch him. Psii could do stealth passably, but he was never a professional Laughsassin. His was the informal schoolfeeding of hard knocks. On his way towards cover, he rustled a few leaves.

Turns out, it ain't his eyes what help him hear. His ears flick as he catches that noise. He can't sort out the voice from just that alone, but he thinks he hears that at least. Maybe. He can't miss them rustling leaves though neither motherfucking way. Avox or not, one never forgets being a trained laughsassin, just as no other trolls forgets the laughsassins.

The trouble is whether he can be one.

He's got the quiet down. His steps hardly made sound before he was an Avox they sure as shit don't make on it now. Many noises unintended bring about wincing unless he's in the exact right mind state for it all to be making happenstance. That isn't too often. Noises what come intended are even less.

First he's got to determine what he can do, then he needs to figure out what he should. He ain't armed but he can take a few hits significant and heal from them. Attack should be too big of a threat but he didn't want to bring something dangerous back to the hovercraft either. On the flip side, he might well scare whoever it is off, assuming it ain't a what.

He breathes deep, offers up the tiniest of prayers with a plea of forgiveness for his absences, and hope that will grant him whatever he needs to slip through this brush. He finds himself marvelling just a bit at how he ain't been outside in a long ass while and it's real nice just to feel the texture of shit like leaves and bark. To see colors like green...

Or red and blue.

Moving would just blow all his chances, so he stayed still—fat load of help that did him. His breaths doubled. Like an antlerbeast in the headlights, he was reminded of just how quickly and easily a trained Alternian laughsassin could spot him. He dropped his stupid weapon, it wouldn't help him anyway. If this was a clone, it was a damn good one. It had all of Initiate's training, and could take him out with a thought.

Psii tried to ask what the hell Initiate was doing in the arena, if he was under Gamemakers' orders as an Avox to cause havoc. All that came out of his mouth were hoarse attempts to make words. In a way, this dispelled his fear and replaced it with righteous indignation. He rolled his eyes and flipped his middle finger in the vague direction of the sky showing through a hole in the leaves. Ironic, that giving the Gamemakers the bird was similar in gesture to flipping off the gods.

The Psiioniic. It hits him like harsh wave, knocking him back a few feet and leaving him breathless. Yet the thrill left all there couldn't be doubted. It couldn't be diminished, couldn't be cast aside. He's still alive. He's still here. The initiate's so relieved.

He ain't going to run on forward with it, he ain't so stupid as he was. But a slow approach? That at least couldn't be too bad. Until the Psiioniic starts garbling and and gasping his vocabilities. Until he's flipping the finger skyward.

The Initiate frowns in concern, hand tentatively lifting like he could fuck all to help, and head tilting in question of all this.

Psii couldn't help leaning ever so slightly from that hand. He didn't like being touched when his nerves were all on end from the hazards of the arena. Just two seconds ago, he hadn't even been sure Initiate wasn't there to kill him, some new Avox order. He wouldn't put it past the Capitol to find Avoxes in the arena entertaining.

Psii's annoyance at being scared out of his husk deepened his scowl, but it was still comical, matched with the way he pointed at Initiate, then walked two fingers on a plane of air to imitate sneaking, then flipped a middle finger at him. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, asshole.

He plucked his spear where he'd dropped it and began scratching words into the dirt: What are you do♊ng here?

Edited (fuck, i fucked up his stupid quirk, he's such a nerd) 2016-01-02 20:54 (UTC)

The Psiioniic wasn't wrong of course. Avoxes had been thrown in the arena plenty a time. With offworlders, it's only been a case of those truly crossing a line that they hadn't been, resigned for that reason to remain as they are. He's pretty certain there are only two offworld Avoxes now, counting himself.

He hasn't, however, quite clued to the idea of being used as a weapon like this just yet. It would be difficult to, considering. He's only barely physically imposing these days and all really just for his height. Or in the Psiioniic's case, his blood.

He's surprised to find the Psiioniic miming at him, but amused as well. It makes for quite the strange expression, especially when he's quick to try and flatten it out, not make it seem as though he's laughing at him when their relationship is tenuous at best.

He mirrors the Psiioniic with walking fingers, then scoops up them up with the other hand. Rescue. He points with his thumb back the ways he came.

He couldn't believe it. Had Thirteen finally decided to get their asses in gear and act? Where they all going to be rescued? What about Signless and the others still in the Capitol? What was the plan for them? Thirteen was just this nebulous entity to him, a group of people Psii worked with because he had no other options. His breath quickened as he scrawled into the ground:

♊ dont know where Terez♊ ♊2. 2orry.
Al2o ♊m not go♊ng anywhere unt♊l ♊ f♊nd my d♊2tr♊ct k♊d. They reaped them aga♊n l♊ke old t♊me2.

He figured Terezi would be the first on Initiate's mind, and he actually looked apologetic. He liked Terezi well enough. As for the district kids, it went without saying that Psii had a habit of trying to save others even at great personal cost. Panem was getting closer to Alternia standards. Or perhaps the arrival of the offworlders was just a temporary distraction from the old ways.

♊'ve got 2ometh♊ng two a2k you ♊f there2 t♊me. K♊nd of ♊mportant 2o you m♊ght want two grab a 2t♊ck.

He reads the Psiioniic first note and looks up, holding his hand high and shaking his head with it. He then taps his chest twice, to say she's with him. There's no need for worry about her no more, though he realises that must have been the case for the Psiioniic. He doesn't try to imagine what that was like. Better he doesn't.

The Psiioniic's not done though and this time he doesn't' try to explain himself, that the rescue is only for them missing kids. There's something what to ask and the gravity of the statement strikes him. He looks surprised, then worried, but nevertheless, he goes about to search for a stick of some kind.

He grasps it close, hands not all as steady as he'd like despite the breaths he takes. He's not quite ready for a lot of writing, has to save himself up sure and certain for it and even that is draining. But he waits after nodding to give the go ahead.

He gave Initiate a hard look, but there wasn't much time for a game of vague back-and-forth staring. He sighed.

Already told you ♊ d♊dnt l♊ke your Avox plan.
Found out you really 2cared Harley and Karkat and ♊t wa2nt ju2t pr♊2on l♊fe.
Theyre 2t♊ll fucked up now.
What the hell?
♊ thought ♊t wa2 clear my fr♊end2 are OFF L♊M♊T2.

He stopped aggressively carving his capslock into the ground to prod Initiate's chest with the butt of his spear (not quite having the guts to shove him directly). The chest-poking bit was unplanned bravado, though; he had a little bit of a crush on Harley, coupled with a protective streak that made him impulsive. Psii was worried the effects of Initiate's gambit would never be erased from his victims like he'd initially hoped. He had put faith in Initiate's explanation, even defended him. However, the scars left behind on what Psii considered sacred ground were big as ever and didn't show signs of diminishing.

He's reading the Psiioniic's writ and already the sinking feel gets its return up and on. His face just up and falls, until the Psiioniic is poking him with the spear and he falls on his ass. Trying to make himself smaller just ain't working right now. He swallows, goes back to his knees, breathing deep and steadying so he can write with a shaking hand.

was ordered
sorry

That's really the simplest way to put it. Voodooing them all wasn't part of the plan. It just worked for being a thing what meant they didn't get on executed.

He doesn't add anything more than what he has.

He crouched down, ostensibly to put himself at eye level with him, though Initiate's height made the effort backfire. Oh well. He pointed the butt of the spear at him again, then adjusted it to write again, gripping a bit too tightly.

Th♊2 ♊2 not okay. You know that, r♊ght?
Lett♊ng people force you, forc♊ng other2, none of ♊t ♊2 okay. Youre free now, or youre 2uppo2ed two be.
That l♊fe ♊2 done.

He paused to remember just what it was that enabled him to ditch his life of slavery. He always had it in him, but it took a push, a catalyst, a spark....

The l♊fe youll have with my be2t fr♊end ♊2 the one you want and the one you 2hould have.

Psii knew Initiate could possibly flip out and fuck things up, but he trusted that he wanted to do good by Signless. It was a dangerous tight rope balancing act. Psii's next question took effort, not because he was afraid to ask it, but because he was afraid of the repercussions. He felt the hot ice of murderous intent wrap around his heart. These moments, he felt farthest from Signless. It was a bitter taste, but not enough to discount the possibility of having to off someone. His killing could be done in a desperate split second, but always in defense of another.

Who ordered you?

The duck of his head is telling for his first answer. Yes, he's aware it ain't right. He fucked up and there ain't no way what's being around it. He could map the marks he left like a star map. But what more can he do now?

He can't help but shudder when the Psiioniic says that life is done. It brings the whole scope of it all into focus and he doens't want to see it. At the same time, it shrinks everything down and it makes feeling for like he should've done more, he should've suffered more, he's got no right to shit.

He doesn't expect that next line. It widens his eyes and lifts his head. It sounded almost being like... like an approval. Maybe not a happy one but still being one more all than resignation. The Psiioniic words like he's earned it somehow. The life he should have. It takes his breath. He doesn't what to say.

He supposes that's for the best because the next question is the thing that most requires response. With shaking hands, he writes; the capitol.

Initiate didn't need to respond to most of what Psii was saying. Psii was going to say it (rather, write it) regardless, and Initiate would just have to chew on that. Psii's face twisted in anger at the last. His answer wasn't good enough. He couldn't just blow up the entire city, he had to find the individual people responsible, or at least do his best to keep them from his friends.

WHO from the Cap♊tol?

And why? To cover up Tribute involvement and consolidate punishment? To protect them even? Psii had seen slavers protect their property before, but this would have to be elaborate and involved.

His hands open and close, not for want of clubs for once in his life, but for want of making leave, doing something more, bowing his head. Either way, it's a gesture of anxiousness and he's aware of it, but not caring enough for hiding to bother.

He doesn't have an answer. He doesn't know. He didn't recognize the person, barely saw them really. They hadn't needed to be in the same room for them to speak and be heard and so reach him. His will was no stronger than stardust windblown at the time. He would have done anything. He did.

He shakes his head. They'd want to bring distrust in their number. Distrust in him, in their cause, in everything. He supposes he should be angry for that but he can't be. They'd want it all covered up. They hadn't wanted their people to know there was ever any dissent. Just like he had wanted of Signless and his following, once.

He's surprised, I truth. He's surprised that less people doubt in him.

Initiate's face carried that blank that came from calling up a memory that wasn't enough. Psii had no experience with lost memories other than concussions or a couple especially wild days, but his visions offered a similar frustration when they were especially cryptic and incomplete.

Th♊rteen2 lucky you and human 2teve caught the flack. ♊f they had come out and hacked the broadca2t2 earl♊er, maybe you wouldnt have rece♊ved that order.

He thought Thirteen had been fighting for the offworlders in the arenas on principle. Wasn't their whole thing to abolish the arenas and free all slaves?

Ha2 Th♊rteen alway2 been a b♊g fan of lett♊ng u2 take the heat?

Even so, Thirteen at least deigned to try rescuing the kids in this arena. A fair point in their favor.

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Lightning Strikes Twice

OTA

i wanted to do more with the nerve gas even though i'm on slowatus tl;dr i'm awful

yesssss

Re: yesssss

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can we stop to appreciate how unscary psii can be

always

god i hope mobile doesn't mess up the quirk

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oh my god i thought i responded to this already

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