thearena | (no subject)

(no subject)

WHO | Don, a shark, and OPEN
WHAT | Donatello vs. a shark.
WHEN | About 90 minutes-two hours post-Cornucopia
WHERE | The square area of M6, M7, N6 and N7
WARNINGS | ~~UNMITIGATED AWESOMENESS~~ Violence and some blood.

Don wasn't sure whether he was insane or not as he dove back into the waters of the lagoon. Maybe he was, maybe it was a trick of the eyes. But her was certain that he'd seen something near the middle of the lagoon. And that something had been a shark fin.

Shark. He wasn't sure which kind from that distance. But he was sure of one thing - there were sharks in this arena. Sharks, to a lot of people, meant Jaws. Sharks to Don meant food, possibly fluids to drink (though he admittedly never drank shark's blood, fluids were fluids and everyone would be trying for the coconuts. Always good to have backup plans, right?), and - perhaps more important - nice, sharp teeth. Teeth that in many older cultures were used as decoration - and weaponry and tools.

Provided he could find one and subdue it before it found and subdued him, of course.

He kept going underwater, his eyes searching, finding only other fish swimming away from him. But Don wasn't going to give up. Nor would he let his lack of weaponry hinder him. He had his floatation belt in hand, which could be more than useful in wrangling a shark. And his shell would be able to withstand a shark trying to chomp down on him.

Well, at least he hoped it would be.

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-Activity in MKG.688. Do we have anything prepped in that area?
-Loaded and ready. You may want to prep another cannon.
-Let it loose.

Whatever it is Donatello thought he saw lurking in the waters - some average everyday cliche of a slender silver shark fin breaking the surface of the water - even if it had been true, what lurks below him is like nothing any textbook or television documentary he may have watched could have prepared him for.

Megascapanorhynchus weighs in at just over 2,000 pounds of pure, solid muscle and is 16 feet 4 inches long; the last 4 feet of it's length devoted solely to it's razor sharp snout that looks more like it should belong on the head of a massive swordfish instead. Capable of reaching speeds of near 45 miles per hour in water, there is little that can out swim this vicious aquatic muttation. And whatever it catches, Megascapanorhynchus's mouth is full of razor-like awl shaped teeth best suited for ripping large chunks of flesh from it's prey.

It was about a half-hour into his swim, after diving down into the water again, that he saw something beneath him. He began to swim slowly towards it, knowing that to get too close before really knowing what it was in the deep would be...well, bad. But the shape was...well, a bit unusual for a shark or large fish. More than one fish?

Then he got closer and, with the distance lessened, had a better look at the shark. To be fair, Don was expecting something something more along the lines of, oh, a great white, maybe a hammerhead. Something big and vicious and with many sharp teeth, but...

Oh shell. Oh shell. He wasn't expecting that.

A mutant shark.

And just for a second Don was tempted to make a very quick u-turn back to shore. This hadn't been the best idea. He really should have known better, hadn't he? He knew about these mutated creatures, even just from the previous Arena, knew they existed. Why wouldn't they be in this place? And he knew there was no way he could out swim this thing - just looking at its silhouette guaranteed this monster was made for speed in the water. And Don, well...in comparison he really was the proverbial Tortoise in the race, wasn't he?

On the other hand. On the other hand.

This was the Arena. This was entertaining for those people outside. And they expected a show, right? And those who survived long enough would get something beneficial from sponsors - things he could use to help Eliot in getting one of the girls through the Games. For that they would need all the help they could get. Right? That was, if he succeeded in bringing down this shark by himself. If he could do that, he knew the Sponsors would come. If he died tangling with it, well, it still gave them something. They'd know he was a fighter and wouldn't give up. Or that he was insane. Or something.

Either way. These crazy people in the Capitol wanted a show? Shell, they were going to get one. He just needed to get the shark's attention - if it wasn't yet on him.

Donatello does not have to do much to get this beast's attention. In fact, to the Megascapanorhynchus, Donatello is about the size of a normal meal. A few more dexterous limbs and a few less gills that maybe it's accosted to, but meat nevertheless, and it has never been picky.

It's sight set, the shark begins to circle below, keeping beneath Don as he moves in the water, but clearly making an assent toward the surface.

Oh, ok, well. Pretty easy to tell its noticed him. He's only got a small amount of time to think of some kind of plan other than "swim away" or "let the thing eat him". Just a few seconds to think of a way to make the situation something he can do -

And that's when he remembered something about sharks - namely, shark anatomy. This creature had to be created from previously-existing sharks, right?...So then certain things about sharks probably still had to apply to this shark, as strong and fast and different as it clearly was.

He could do this. He could. Somehow, if he was betting his chips right.

Very, very slowly, Don began to swim backwards, in the direction of the shore he'd left. Won't you follow him, shark - maybe try and take a bite?

Edited 2012-08-13 03:57 (UTC)

Hungry. This mutt is hungry. It's been deprived of food for going on a week now by it's creators with the specific hope that it would view tributes as little more than a tasty snack.

Eager for its next meal, the shark thrashes it's tail and slides through the water with a ferocious and terrible grace. Its heightened mutated senses can smell the blood pumping through it's prey's veins, and it opens its mouth in anticipation.

Wait for it. Wait for it. Don't panic.

Hard not to be nervous considering it was now coming right for him. He had to time this just right if he was going to get through this. He quickly went back up to the surface, took a breath (I'm gonna need it. Need to stay underwater as long as I can for this!) Just...right...just-

And then just as it was right on him, Don swam. Right above the shark, over that sword-like horn, and lunged down onto its top. He landed himself in between that horn and its fin, clamping and covering its gill slits with his hands - and his floatation belt - as hard as he could. And, he hoped, he was covering the spiracle as well.

One thing was for sure - he wasn't letting go.

A hunter and a killer, this mutt is used to being the biggest and baddest thing in it's arena - wherever that may be. It is not, however, used to its prey attacking back. Panic and struggle it understands. But this?

Thrashing wildly, the shark attempts to throw its attacker off.

[[OOC: I am so sorry that this has taken me so long to get back to you. I have still been having a bit of issues since my hospital adventure D:]]

"Nnn-nnn--nnn!!"

And thus Don was tossed and turned wildly, like a cowboy on a bronco. Well, a mutant cowboy on an even more mutated aquatic aberration. But while the turtle had no spur to dig into the sides of his struggling ride, Don doesn't let go. Even as he starts being swung forward and backwards, he refused to let go.

This was going to be a very difficult ride - to say the least.

Just gotta ride it out...gotta hold on...gotta keep covering...the gills...!

Edited 2012-08-21 23:46 (UTC)

In a moment of frustration and on a strange instinct of survival, the shark trashes again but now adjusts it's initial direction and begins to dive. Back down into the comfort of the dark deep waters from whence it came. The surface is going to be a longer swim than he might like, if Donatello chooses to let go. And if he doesn't? Well, let's just hope that turtles can hold their breath.

Don is hoping he can too, but the temptation to open his mouth is becoming endemic. How was this possible? He should be able to hold his breath for longer. He was a turtle after all; a red-eared slider, granted, but--

Oh. Oh. Right. How could he have forgotten?

He opens his mouth. The sea salt pours into his mouth, and Don feels like he just ingested a dozen canisters of Morton's. Still, he's not asphyxiating. That's good.

He hopes. He's still holding on, still trying to suffocate this thing. But the shark seems as energetic as ever - and now he's in its territory.

The shark thrashes again, wild and determined; frantic. To viewers, it may not seem obvious, but the sharks motions are pure angered panic. It's jaws open wide, it's massive head twisting and turning every which way it can to get at this pest still holding on.

"Gh--"

And that was when Don nearly got flung off. He skidded forward - as much as someone could skid forward - during the newest rounds of panic, onto the long, sword-like snout.

And sliced his forearm cleanly across those sharp, white teeth.

"GnnnAAAAUGH!!"

He jerked back as hard and as quickly as he could, blood coming from the long, wide cut in a wavy stream. It took all his willpower not to keep screaming, with all the salt in the water, and the pain of the injury shooting up and down his arm. But the blood...

Shell. Shell! He needed to get back to covering those dratted gills but the blood scent would reinvigorate the monster underneath him...

Don did the only thing he could think to do. Still holding onto the belt, he brought his uninjured arm back and swung as hard as he could towards the beast's eye.

The smell of blood was thick and heavy and drove the shark nearly mad with excitement. But the sudden blindness was disorienting. In a moment of panic, the shark whirls it's massive head and snaps, tasting flesh once again. This time, a leg.

[[Mod Note: Surprise! You have been bitten by a shark. For 75 Credits, you can choose to survive this attack and be given medicine to be healed from this encounter. If you do not choose to pay the 75 credits, your character will die.]]

Oh shell. Oh shell the pain. Now half of his body was just shooting with unadulterated, salted pain. It was lucky that the shark wasn't pressing down - he managed to yank his leg away before the shark could snack on him again.

Despite his pain, he managed to slide back down the snout towards the gills, his now-bloodied belt in hand. Perhaps all of the blood around the shark would confuse it, giving him the chance he needed to finally finish off this thing.

Hopefully he would kill this thing before it killed him.

((OOC: 75 credits it is!))

Edited 2012-08-29 04:40 (UTC)

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