thearena | Every aching old machine will feel no pain [OPEN]

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Every aching old machine will feel no pain [OPEN]

WHO | Sigma and You!
WHAT | The old man is injured and tries to hide himself before he becomes an easy target. Sponsor parachutes flying to places don't make that any easier...
WHEN | Sunset of the First Day of the Arena.
WHERE | Wandering Fantasyland
WARNINGS/NOTES | Sigma's powers will be activated, so if you want to get violent then check that out first please!

It was a perfect picture of home.

Rusted rides, overturned carousels, weathered murals and bright, childish colours perverted by dirt and grime. The park had been neglected and eventually fell into obscurity, just as it had on his Earth. With only a handful of surviving humans, scattered sparsely around the world, did anyone dare remember Disneyland - a happier time when children were innocent?

California had been his home state, and though with a broken rib and sprained ankle it was hardly an appropriate time to reminisce, Sigma felt slightly nostalgic. How old had he been the last time he'd come here? Twelve? Thirteen? An enthusiastic child, he'd pestered his mother to take him again at every opportunity. But then High School hit, then University, and then the apocalypse. Only as an old man did he have his chance to return...

He thought Kyle would have loved it.

Propping himself against a fence to stagger forward, he moaned as he stumbled over cracked cobblestones, his injured ankle giving him trouble. Eventually when the pain in his chest became too overwhelming to even breathe, Sigma ducked into a shop and sat down against a counter, a poor hiding place.

His side aching and his costume soaked with Donatello's blood, Sigma fell nauseous. There was no way he'd have the strength to seek Kyle out on his own.. it would have to wait until morning.

If he could survive until morning...

Needing a better place to spend the oncoming night, he was halfway inside an artificial building near what had once been the Peter Pan ride when he noticed the familiar blips and blinking of a Sponsor Gift lodged in a balcony above him. Sigma froze in terror; he'd clearly made an impression at the Cornucopia, but the parachute threatened to give away his new hiding spot. Sigma gritted his teeth, how could he climb up there in his condition? Still, he had no choice but to go after it...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

When did this place end...? Beck had been wandering around for what seemed like ages now.

He couldn't even tell what time it was. Tron hadn't gone into much depth about the user world, and he could certainly understand why. Because why would he need to know anything about it? Beck was training to become the next Tron, and he needed to know how to protect the Grid first before anything else. Extra information about who the most important users were (other than Flynn) and how they operated was something that could wait when he was well and ready. The sky was growing darker, which...meant the beginning a new Cycle, maybe? Things were always dark in Argon. It was weird to see things go from unusually bright to normally dark.

He was stumbling into a place that was...also different. Things looked out of date: the equipment was old and rusted and dented, and the ground was dirty and unkept. The grass and things outside were wild and out of control, and the colors were dull and muted. But things looked like they were supposed to be so cheery here. Beck almost had the feeling that something bad had happened here, but he couldn't put his finger on what.

A moan from not too far away caught his attention. Curious, the program started to move forward towards the source, but as quietly as he could. He didn't know much about what was going on, but people were put in this Arena to kill him, and each other. Every step he took, every breath he breathed with his user body, people were watching, waiting to see what he would do.

But he didn't like it (and who did?)

He heard another noise, coming from a building nearby. Against better judgement, Beck started to move in a little closer. The inside of the building was littered with old metal and debris, and it made walking around quietly more difficult than it should be. But this didn't stop him as he continued forward...only to find someone staggering around inside.

The person was reaching for something rather high, and he seemed to be having quite a hard time trying to get it down. Beck wanted to help him grab the thing he was reaching for at least, but how could he trust anyone here? It was like the Games in Argon all over, where the only program you could really trust were those on your team. But nobody was on his team now.

Maybe he should move on. Beck started to move through the dark, feeling guilty for just leaving the guy struggling behind...until he felt his foot settle on a prop. It cracked beneath him, and in an attempt to move his weight off of it, Beck stumbled to the side and stepped on even more of them. He glanced up to the person, his user heart suddenly skipping a beat...

Edited 2013-03-24 03:46 (UTC)

Sigma had begun his careful climb towards the Gift when he heard the prop break- it startled him so horridly he immediately he released his grip on the wall, falling to the floor. He gave a cry as his feet struck the ground, and his bad leg buckled beneath him. Despite the pain, adrenaline kept him moving, and he spun to face the intruder. A strong, healthy young man, it seemed - Sigma wondered if he would die here. His eye darted to his route of escape, prepared to run though he knew he could not - he hesitated, waiting for the other man to act first. The Doctor was covered in blood clearly not his, and he hoped that wordless threat would save him now. Perhaps... perhaps the Tribute would still walk away... Dr. Klim's expression twisted into panic and desperatation.

Sigma had always prided himself on his ability to retain his humanity against impossible odds. But inches from death and with a son to protect, he was now closer to a shaking, cornered animal than a man.

Edited 2013-03-28 02:24 (UTC)

Beck could only watch as the man tumbled to the floor after he had stepped on the prop, cringing as the leg bucked beneath him at the landing. But despite that, the man got to his feet, and spun around to face him.

He was surprised by what he saw. The guy looked...rather old, I guess the proper word would be. In the Grid, program never truly showed signs of aging. You only gained wrinkles and scars if you were corrupted, or there was an error in your coding somewhere. Beck was a little more puzzled over the man's appearance than he should have been, especially in a situation like this (not to mention his eye or anything. That was also pretty attention-catching).

So there the other guy was- stark still, and covered in blood. Beck didn't know what to do, he didn't know really anything about this place. Should he run? Should he help? The people wanted him to kill; whoever was watching now probably thought that this could be more than easy for either of them. But he couldn't kill. He couldn't do anything like that.

Beck raised his arms into the air, carefully watching the other man. "Do you need help?"

Sigma flinches when Beck begins to raise his arms, his legs twitch with a readiness to run... And then looks surprised. This young man wasn't going to kill him after all? Dr. Klim's expression becomes troubled.

Slowly and attentive to his injured ankle, he straightens up, still staring at the other man intensely. This could merely be an act to get his guard down. "I will be fine," he says quickly, "Sooner or later. What is it you want?"

Beck watched carefully as the User gained his footing back. He knew nothing of Users and what made a User's body fully function, but he could recognize an injury just as easily as he would with a Program. No wonder why he had been so jumpy before.

It probably wasn't a good idea to let his guard down. But if this User had an injured leg...what could he do all that quickly? Beck was far enough that he could dodge anything thrown at him. He certainly had the advantage here, but it wasn't one that he intended to use. "I don't want anything." Beck kept his hands in the air, looking the User straight in the eyes...eye. His answer was confident; he really didn't want anything at all.

"I didn't mean to bother you. I was just trying to find shelter for the cycle."

Sigma's doubtful eye watched Beck for a moment longer before he broke eye contact with a sigh. The shock beginning to wear off, Sigma had no choice but to believe him.

"...I see. You... You may have this space if you wish. First, I must get that canister before it gets us killed, if you do not mind..."

The damn thing was still beeping rather loudly. Sigma twisted around to look up at the device, to think of how he could best get back up there, but his freshly damaged leg prevented him from completing the turn. At his limit, he collapsed against the wall and hissed with pain, blood rushing to his injured leg, every heartbeat making it more agonizing. It looked as though he wasn't going anywhere for awhile, and he flashed the other Tribute an apologetic look. Perhaps it was best if Beck fled and saved his own life before the others came for the sponsor item...

Edited 2013-05-14 16:58 (UTC)

That confused Beck a little, at first..."Space? I don't want any space..."

He looked up to the beeping thing at the top, before Sigma turned to glance at its direction. Even though Beck would have rather been a little closer to him to help him go along, he stayed behind for safety's sake, biting his lip as the User eventually collapsed.

Maybe running would be the best idea, especially considering the conditions of these Games. But...

"Hold on. Maybe I can get it for you." Beck gave him a smile before walking his way up, and climbing his way up the wall to the beeping thing above him. Just a few minutes later he held the little silver object in his hand, and lowered it to the injured User below him. "I'm guessing that's yours, right?"

Howard watches as a parachute descends. He's decently fed from the rats, and he has his folding knife, so he's not driven by the supplies so much as curiosity to see who it is the favor's being curried to. He slips from shadow to shadow in Fantasyland, looking over his shoulder for the person he suspects is still following him, and eventually comes to the building with the parachute. It's stuck on the balcony, unretrieved as of yet. He considers climbing up and getting it, but decides it's best to see who his foe is first before he does.

He peeks through the dusty window and is shocked at who he sees. Sigma, covered in blood, slumped over a counter, looking up at that balcony. It's strange, that his first instinct is to go in and make sure Sigma is okay, but he reminds himself that their alliance is something he tried to leave in the last Arena. This one, this haunted theme park, is so many ways separate from the frozen wasteland where they had a bond.

But even telling himself that, he comes in anyway. He cracks open the door and pauses, one hand on his knife, to hear if Sigma responds to him intruding.

"It's me," he says softly.

As the door opens, Sigma shakes as though struck - only to relax as he hears the boy's voice. "Howard..?" he calls, and the weakness in his voice surprises even him. It seemed as though the day Howard had crept into District 10's suite had been years ago, some other, comfortable time when the knowledge of his son's death hurt less than the terror he felt now, not knowing where Kyle was, if he had been killed, if they would be reunited. It wasn't that he disliked Howard or valued his life less than Kyle's, but it was difficult to abandon a child one once rocked in their cradle.

Dr. Klim's posture only weakens, exhausted. He isn't sure what to say. "Looks like the Cornucopia had it in for me again," he laughs humourlessly, clutching his rib. He stays where he is, it doesn't hurt so long as he doesn't move - or breathe much.

The tremble in Sigma's voice catches Howard off-guard too. He knew Sigma was bloody but he somehow expected that the old guy was...more. More something. More durable, maybe. He never did look up how Sigma died.

He creeps around the door and closes it behind him. "You dying?"

Because if so, Howard's not so angry at Sigma that he wouldn't at least try to make him comfortable. Truth be told, he's not even angry at Sigma at all, just himself. Just disappointment.

And if not...well, Howard doesn't want to be around someone else who might turn on him. But he could still stand to talk to someone. Not be alone for a moment.

"Not yet," Sigma hisses. He speaks in staccato. "Depends on who gets through that door. Broke a rib. Perhaps two, and sprained an ankle."

Sigma still hears the Gift beeping above him and looks in its direction with annoyance. He's going to have to get that damn thing down before Howard is put at risk, as well. There's a beat as he catches his breath. "Did you run for it.. this time?" Sigma's eyes never left Don's position.

"Oh. That's not so bad, then."

Right. Totally normal. Howard glances up towards the beeping gift. "I'll get that for you."

He doesn't wait for permission to climb up and retrieve it. He does so quickly and discreetly. He drops back down and comes back to Sigma, holding the canister of food out like a peace offering.

"No, I went for a bag, but some dweeb busted my lip over it, so I let him have it. You'll be happy to know no one got stabbed on my account this time."

Sigma nods, though the pain that shoots through him when he does so tells him otherwise. "Nothing deadly," he agrees with a slight gasp.

Slowly adjusting his posture so he is finally sitting up straight, Sigma watches Howard secure the gift with relief. Howard was a good kid, perhaps moreso than the man he'd raised Kyle to be. He accepts the can with gratitude to both Howard and the sender - though he does not open it. "That's something to be proud of," he replies with a small smile. He'd intended for Howard to have the bag at their first fight as well, though it seemed he'd gone overboard with his threats. As usual.

Growing tired, Sigma closed his eye. His cybernetic one continues watching Howard. "Do you recognize this place as well as I do?" he wonders aloud.

"Yeah, well, I set the bar high. Today I didn't stab anyone. Maybe tomorrow I'll go as far as to not call anyone mean names." He finds a corner and sits down. Ever since his death at Aunamee's hands, he's always situated himself in a room with a wall to his back and his eyes to the door. It seems silly and naive, to him, that he didn't do so all along.

"Probably better than you do," Howard says quietly. "I went here at least twice a year, with my family. This was basically all our vacations and trips..."

He wrings one hand over the other and looks at Sigma, at the exhaustion and pain in the taller, more robust physique, the stilted way Sigma forces himself to sit up. "You know, I been reading about first aid. I can take a look at that."

This raised a chuckle from Sigma, and he shrugged. With any other senior, Howard may have been right about childhood memories, but... "I grew up not far from here, actually. Practically knew the park like the back before I attended middle school." One of the perks of having a photographic memory was that dear childhood trips remained fresh in one's old age. It was also convenient for when one had to reenact every specific detail of their own future they'd forseen, but hey, Disneyland. "You would think that would give me an advantage... However..."

Sigma's smile disappeared. How stupid he'd been to get injured, if he'd only restrained himself... "Please, if you would. Though I am not sure there's much one can do about a cracked rib." Was it ice you put on a sprained ankle a few hours after the accident? Or heat? He left these sort of decisions to Luna, usually. He removed the hand he'd pressed to his ribcage and allowed his arms to fall to his sides before gingerly leaning to roll up the fabric around his ankle.

"Yeah?" Howard perks up. He didn't realize he knew any other Californians here, and a part of him wonders, just wonders a little... "Where? I'm from Perdido Beach, about an hour and a half south of here."

He gets back up, looking a bit loathe to leave the corner he wedged himself into, as if walls alone can protect him. He approaches Sigma without the trust he showed back in the Arena, but he approaches nonetheless. "Yeah, but you're also covered in blood."

He pauses. "Unless that's not yours."

Sigma paused and made an effort to put a place to the name, but he'd never heard of Howard's home. He looked confused, but did not question him - perhaps it was before his time. "In L.A., as a matter of fact. I received my undergraduate degree at the UCLA," he says sadly. These places no longer existed either in Panem or in his world.

Having never truly lied to Howard, Sigma slowly nods. "...I had no other choice but to... neutralize a Tribute at the Cornucopia." It had been an unfortunate experience... unfortunate that Donatello hadn't submitted and allowed himself to be killed. Unfortunate also that Sigma couldn't bring himself to do it. "Ah, my opponent did not die, but I believe it is safe to say I succeeded." Unless a sponsor was willing to somehow cauterize the wound, that creature wouldn't last long.

Edited 2013-03-29 21:34 (UTC)

"Ew. L.A. traffic." Howard wrinkles his nose and approaches Sigma again, asking permission with his body language rather than his voice to take a look at the injuries. "They attack you first?"

He pauses when he hears something behind him. He pulls the folding knife from his pocket instantly and whirls around, taking stock of the room. He's about to discount it as just nerves when the sound comes again, from right outside the door, a scratching noise.

He holds a finger in front of his mouth to tell Sigma to be quiet as he approaches the window around the door and peeks outside. Satisfied there's no human there, he hesitatingly ekes the door open.

It's a cat. A mangy tuxedo cat sharpening its claws on the door. It looks at Howard with distaste but doesn't run. Howard slips the knife back in his pocket and pauses, letting the cat get accustomed to his presence, and then lunges, grabbing it by the back of the neck and dragging it back inside. It squalls a bit, but with its nape captured can't effectively thrash.

Howard sneaks back over to Sigma, holding the cat out. "Got us dinner."

Sigma is partway through wondering if he should answer Howard when he hears the noise as well. When in terror, even the smallest scratch was heavily exaggerated, and Sigma shakes his head as if to tell Howard to stay out of his battles. He'd grown ready to accept that whatever came through that door would kill him... But Sigma can only watch helplessly as Howard opens it, perhaps to slay an innocent young Tribute that had been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

And then the Doctor gasps angrily as though he had. "Howard! Put her down at once!" Summoning all of his remaining strength before the boy decides to snap the poor thing's neck, Sigma straightens to his feet and holds his arms out to collect the cat. "This lady is not your next me-owl!" Despite the bad pun, the Doctor was quite obviously annoyed.

Howard's more than happy to drop the squirming, clawed thing into Sigma's arms. Even a stray cat is heavy when you haven't eaten all day and are small to start with.

"Did you just..."

He blinks, trying to decide if Sigma really did just make a cat joke. Then he grins, and in a hushed voice, says, "God, Sigma, you should know this is no time for kitten around."

He still intends to eat the cat.

The cat is deposited into Sigma's arms with very much fuss, it squirms and scratches his sleeves to tatters. Rivulets of white blood appear on his hands, but Sigma doesn't seem to notice. He sits down gingerly and holds it with the care a parent would show to their screaming baby, and begins inspecting the animal's fur.

He finds the time to shoot a glare at Howard. "I'm not kitten around. I'm purrfectly serious. -Ignore the tic, it's pawtomatic, I can't control it."

When the animal begins batting at his chest, Sigma has no choice but to seize the animal by the scruff of the neck. Though he could likely crush the young cat's bones between two titanium fingertips, he handles it with a surprising gentle strength. "She's nearly scratched herself to death, poor purrincess. Lend me your knife for a mewment, I'm going to cut her claws."

"You're asking me for my knife so you can get us a pet?" Howard asks, incredulous. "Are you fricking serious?"

He's more affronted about being asked to part with his only weapon than anything, even though it's just him and a supposed ally. He shakes his head, looking at Sigma as if the old guy's just stated something to the effect of "by the way, the world is flat and I'm your mother".

"Sigma, you can't keep a pet. You can't even keep yourself in one piece, for fuck's sake." He shakes his head, curling his upper lip. "It's just impawssible."

Sigma responded to Howard's attitude with the closest thing he could manage to an eyeroll. He wished his companion would stop making fun of him long enough to think it through. "This had nothing to do with kneading a pet. Look how sick she is! Haven't you ever felt meowbligated to look after a helpless little girl at least once in your life?" He began stroking the cat lovingly around the ears with his free hand. It responds with a frightened yowl that Dr. Klim does not seem to notice. In fact, he seems rather... comforted by the animal's presence. "She'll die of an infection if I don't do anything fur her."

He then held out his hand for the knife. "And I don't eat cats, Howard. Under any circumstanyances."

"Yeah, well, that's nice for you." Howard's tone is steely and ugly and a little hurt. Sometimes he forgets the chasm between him and most normal people. Most normal people haven't starved before, haven't had to make the choice between slowly dying and eating cats or garbage or stealing from people even weaker. Most people think the idea of eating someone's pet is grotesque, and that he, by extension would also be brutal and sick.

The judgment makes Howard feel small and sad and distant. Makes him feel like crying, but he won't give Sigma the satisfaction, he tells himself.

He doesn't give Sigma the knife. He does, however, put it back in his pocket and reach forward and pet the cat's head, a lost expression on his face. It's obvious he's never had a pet, because he tries to pet about her ears rather than with the grain of her fur.

K had been searching for Sigma for a little while. It was an equal excuse to explore, and to his great fortune he'd seen very little of anyone, since ditching the Cornucopia.

That might be a side effect of how large the area was. K only thought this was bad for one reason - it was significantly harder to find Sigma.

He'd eventually managed to find him, of course - peering in dusty window after dusty window (and, of course, avoiding contact with others that weren't Sigma). He had a distinct impression that entering unannounced would be bad news - even if he knew the both of them.

K's naturally silent walk was a blessing, sometimes - and now, without his bells his father had given him, it was indeed completely silent. He moved to the door.

And simply knocked, quiet enough that nobody outside would hear but loud enough that hopefully the two inside would hear. No need to be too cautious, in his opinion - it was him, Sigma, and the dumpster boy. No real danger, in his opinion.

Puzzled by Howard's behavior, Sigma frowns. Too preoccupied to recall Howard's past, he can only wonder if the boy has a grudge against cats - they were pests on his Earth, after all. This theory is crushed when Howard bends down to pet it behind the ears, and he does not bother to correct his petting technique: the cat dislikes both of their strokes equally.

Then came a soft knock on the door, snapping him from his confusion. ...Knock? The Doctor turned towards the sound curiously.

His thoughts turned first to Eponine, and then suddenly to Kyle. He immediately straighted up, a renewed hope in his eye. Who would knock in this situation but an ally? It was foolish to hope in such a dire situation, he knew, but it was all he'd ever had.

"Answer the door. Don't be afraid," Sigma ordered calmly, his tic apparently cured. He brought the cat to his chest and held her in his arms as she hissed - the animal was certainly not going to be a silent companion.

"'Don't be afraid'. Why don't you just tell me not to breathe next, okay?" Howard grumbles and slips over to the door, peeking out. He seems loathe to leave the comfort of the cat, and pulls his lucky rabbit foot from his pocket and strokes it with his thumb, as if replacing the feeling of fur.

He recognizes K from his dumpster-diving venture, but he wouldn't say he'd call him an ally. Acquaintance, at best.

"Siggy Pop, you better be right on this." He pulls the knife out again and opens the door, backing up so that if K attacks immediately he's not in range. He looks at K as if he's assessing a threat. "Hey."

His knock had the intended effect, and K was pleased to see as much. He notes Howard's look - he didn't consider the other guy an ally, either. They were simply people who knew each other - anything more would require more interaction.

K had no qualms about potentially killing Howard, but it was a pointless gesture in the first place - unless Howard assaulted him, there was no reason to try. Killing him might make Sigma mad, or injure K himself, after all.

That was why he merely nodded in greeting. He had already sized Howard up through the window - beyond the knife Howard was now holding, K didn't feel threatened at all. If he knocked it away, Howard would presumably be helpless...

In any case.

"Ah, hello. Sigma is here, correct?" It's a question of courtesy, of course. K already knew he was here.

He just wanted to be sure.

Less thankful than he should be for Howard's patience with him time and time again, the Doctor is so focused on the door that he overlooks his charm. As the entrance creaks open, Sigma feels as though a heavy yoke has been lifted from his shoulders, and even the intense pain in his leg and chest no longer seems so sharp. "K, I am glad to see you," he sighs. Pinning the cat down gently with one arm, he gestures for him to come inside. His relief draining him, he is not sure he can stand up again to meet him.

"Howard, this is K. We met outside of the Arena. Believe me when I say you can trust him," he reassures, though each statement he'd made had been a lie. He knew Howard to be incredibly sharp for a boy his age, and he hoped the sincerity in his voice was enough to lead him off track: to convince him that this was not the one Sigma wished to win.

Otherwise, they'd have no alliance at all.

But unfortunately, Howard is that sharp. He didn't put the pieces together before, but now, able to look back and forth and compare faces, now that the strange familiarity has a name, he can't ignore it. Even though he so badly wants to.

It's there. The identical structure of the jaws, the eye sockets, the nose. One weighed down a little with age, the other fresh and tight with youth. And it's also there, the kind of loyalty between parents and their children that the rest of the world seems afforded, that he wasn't.

And it fills him with anger. He doesn't sneer or furrow his eyebrows or frown, but his eyes take on a deadened cast as that anger threatens to spill out and then turns back inwards. He knows that Sigma and K don't mean to dangle their alliance in front of him, but it doesn't help any to know that it's incidental.

He puts the knife away. He holds onto the charm. The battered orange fluff catches the dim light. He looks down at the top of his shoes. "Well, this is awkward."

K catches two things: one, Sigma is lying. And two, Howard is suddenly awkwardly staring at his feet. He wasn't used to social situations, certainly, but he'd learned from the best in terms of manipulation. Even if it was unintentionally, on her part.

He wasn't sure what exactly had unsettled Howard, but he got the feeling their alliance - which by this point he'd found overt - was the cause.

"It's good to see you as well, Sigma." A simple greeting for a simple greeting. Pleasantries Akane had taught.

At Sigma's notation to Howard, he raised his hand apologetically - "Ah, Howard and I have met before." He was tempted to ask Howard why he thought so - was a meeting of two alliances really that awkward? - but he let Sigma make the first response - he knew Howard much better then K did.

Although if Sigma didn't say anything to that, K might find it necessary.

Sigma watched Howard with a bit of alarm. Though Kyle had a harder time grasping the subtleties of human emotions, Sigma could see the anger in Howard's eyes and knew he'd figured it out. He'd even started to give it away, and the Doctor needed to stop him.

"I wasn't aware. I hope your meeting was an amicable one." He wished Howard would explain, though the boy was distracted. If Howard knew what sort of relationship Sigma had with his son he wouldn't be so envious.

Kyle was not one who would be startled easy by blood-soaked clothing, and he was sure the other already knew that blood wasn't his. Still Sigma offered an explanation: "I had some trouble at the Cornucopia, but I am alright. K, this is Rita," he decided quickly, gesturing to the angry cat. He'd had to pick a name off the top of his head and went with one from an old movie he'd liked.

Now that Kyle was here, there was no need to wait to open the food - the cat between his arms, Sigma twisted the lid off of the canister with much difficulty. There was a hearty beef stew inside, and Sigma retrieved a few large chunks of meat - putting them into his palm, he offered the handful to the cat, who greedily began lapping it up. He knew he was in no condition to win this Arena, and the idea that something needed him a little longer to survive was strangely comforting.

Howard casts a glance at K that says, even to those without a ton of social awareness, that he doesn't want K to elaborate that much. He'd rather Sigma not know that Howard spent a lot of the trip back to the Capitol compulsively eating from the dumpster. It's hard enough to feel uncivilized and dirty and uncouth for wanting to use the cat as food.

Then he looks back at his shoes and wraps his arms tight around himself. This isn't the place to start a fight. Once he finds the motivation, he'll just slink away and let Sigma and K have their little family reunion time, while he walks alone back towards Thunder Mountain. Nothing but his knife for company.

He stares at his shoelaces up until he hears the pop of the sealed canister opening and sees Sigma giving the cat some of those precious, life-giving pieces of meat.

"Are you crazy?" He only just keeps his voice from rising to a shriek. A hundred images flash through his mind - him starving, him and Sigma huddled up in the cold last Arena, him back in the FAYZ eating pieces of grass and drinking from bottles of cleaning supplies because nausea was easier to deal with than hunger, kids with their hair falling out in clumps from malnutrition, ribs poking out until they looked like sci-fi props instead of real anatomy, and Aunamee, last time, telling Howard "I no longer feel safe with you" when Howard told him to slow down and ration the food. "Don't - don't waste the food on the..."

His voice trails off weakly as that last memory lodges firmly in his throat.

K's information-retentive nature here is a godsend for Howard. The glance is all he needs to dodge approaching the subject of how they'd met - it'd be the only thing that'd elicit such a glare.

K had common sense, after all.

Sigma's decision to name the cat was a bit unexpected. Akane had maybe prompted Sigma's cat puns in front of him once or twice - but K hadn't ever been aware of Sigma's... crazy cat father streak. Other then that mild surprise, Kyle was nonplussed by the goings on here. Sigma was covered in blood (although what exactly had covered him in blood was something curious), and being dumb.

Kyle was never someone to accept death as an inevitability for those he loved.

Howard's response at least mirrors K's: that is a waste of food. In fact, K chose to stare at Sigma. Howard was being ignored, if only for the moment - once again, he was hoping Sigma could help where he could not.

"Sigma. I believe attempting to domesticate a cat - ah, my apologies, Rita - in this environment is a poor decision. It will be only another mouth to feed with no loyalty to you, and may carry disease. And, if you teach it to rely on you, what will happen when you are not here to care for it? Should you win, I doubt they will let you take a cat like that with you."

K was stern-voiced as he outlined why everything Sigma was doing right now was logically Stupid.

K was never the best son.

Edited 2013-04-09 21:46 (UTC)

Sigma is visibly offended by Howard and Kyle's reactions, though he has no reason to be. He knew well that both of their circumstances had not lead them to an affinity for animals. And though his son was right on all counts, Sigma had persevered before - a long time before - feeding the strays despite his mother's fury that her perfectly good lunches were wasted on pests. Perhaps it is from a similar loving stubbornness that Sigma does not listen.

He allows the cat to finish the handful before speaking. "I only want to do her good. If I cut her nails to stop her from worsening her infection, she will be less able to hunt and it will be my responsibility to provide for her until they grow back. Besides, it is my gift to do with as I please,"

There is a rebellious pause before he extends the canister to his guests. "The rest of this is for the two of you anyway," he sighs. "I was saving it for you, K, and now I owe Howard a meal as well. Please do not kill each other over it." He hopes this peace offering will calm Howard down and keep his son from abandoning him. These children...

"I'm not taking your food, Sigma," Howard says quickly, not because he doesn't want it but because he remembers the knife sliding into his shoulder, into his gut, into his back. He can't get weird about food. He can't let himself get weird about food, or Sigma will kill him. Or K. Or someone.

He passes it instead to K. "Look, Siggy Pop, I'm not trying to get harsh on your pets, but we need to be realistic here. Everything your- everything K's saying is right. It's logical."

He raises his gaze to look straight at Sigma. "Okay, so, I met K. You'll still give me a chance to run?" He doesn't much care that K won't understand the reference; what matters is that Sigma does. It means their alliance still exists, if only for the moment, if only because there are still so many people in the Arena.

Sigma's stubbornness, as always, was irritating to K in a way he couldn't quite express. Maybe it was the fact that the first time he'd gone up against it, he'd gotten a robot mom, and the second time his father had intended to let Akane die, along with himself. Neither experience was a good one, after all. K was prepared to go to town, at least, before Sigma offered the food.

He shot Sigma a Look - "I assume that means you don't intend to eat?" K was never in danger of abandoning Sigma - but he'll argue for the other not doing stupid stuff in favor of his well being. It'd be sweet, if K's form of loving subtlety had any setting other than logically tearing Sigma down.

He notes the nickname - Siggy Pop - with perhaps a bit of amusement, too, although he's mildly annoyed to have it passed to him - he still takes it, however. Even if it's Sigma's food, it's better in his hands then on the ground.

K catches the reference's meaning, even if he doesn't catch the reference itself. In a game focused around killing, like this, Howard using a phrase like that immediately brought K to jump to 'will you give me a chance to run before trying to kill me'.

In all honesty? Knowing Sigma, K doubted the answer would be anything other then yes. He did just try and save a feral cat.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Every aching old machine will feel no pain [OPEN]

oh god this is long i'm sorry!

No problem! Sorry I'm late!

Naaah, no worries!

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/tags 6 days late i'm sorry guys