thearena | My boy builds coffins, for better or worse.

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My boy builds coffins, for better or worse.

WHO| Wyatt and Max
WHAT| A gathering of ancient relics.
WHERE| Let's say... mid-islandish. Around K11 or so.
WHEN| Sometime after the T-Rex release.
Notes/Warnings| Dinosaur shenanigans? Nothing else at the moment that I can think of.

Later, when he looked back on it, Wyatt would realize he should have known from the moment he saw Aunamee that it was trap. After so many weeks of searching and tracking the man like a dog, for him to suddenly appear, moving between the trees without a care in the world....

It was painfully clear just how unlikely it was, in hindsight. How it felt too easy, because it was.

But, in the moment, all he knew was that he spotted their quarry and that the trail was hot.

And soon, one way or the other, it was going to be done.

Moving quickly, Wyatt lead the way, Max close behind, the pair of them silent save for a few gestures, quick exchanges of glances.

This way... Ready. ...Wait...

He paused, pressing his shoulder against Max's as the man came up beside him, blue eyes narrowed as he stared around the trunk of the tree they were crouching behind.

Aunamee had stopped. Turned away from them, he was stone still, staring blankly into nothing.

As if waiting for something.

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Spear in one hand, knife in the other, Maximus took his silent place at Wyatt's side, crouched down out of site from their quarry.

Not that it was necessary. Aunamee had stopped, hadn't moved an inch for a full minute. More.

A prickling awareness was pulling at the hairs on the back of Maximus' neck, his lips thinning into a firm line as the wrongness of the situation began to press upon him. He raised a hand, fingers tugging at Wyatt's shirt to force the man to look at him before he shook his head, heavily.

Wyatt nodded slowly, eyes on Max's.

Yes, he felt it too. Something wasn't right.

Shifting his gaze back to Aunamee's shoulders, he moved, leaning to play his fingers across the dirt between their boots, digging up a rock from the soft earth. Small, but heavy.

Tucking it into the pocket of his palm, he whistled. Just the once, a low sound, but decidedly human, not something that could be confused as anything being made by something natural to the jungle.

Still, Aunamee did not move. Did not turn. Did not sneer or laugh or any of the other things Wyatt might have expected of him.

So, with a quick whip of his arm, he let the rock fly. His aim was as true as ever, square on the back of the head - but the stone passed harmlessly through where Aunamee's skull should have stopped it. The man disappeared, a burst of hissing static, and the rock landed somewhere out of sight in the trees with a hard thunk.

He would never get used to the strange magic of this place. His breath caught as Aunamee disappeared.

"What--" He hissed as he half stood up, staring hard at where the image had been. He snapped his head around. Was he hallucinating again?

"Wyatt," He hissed, his voice a rough whisper as if Aunamee might still hear them. "You saw it, also...?"

"A trick."

Wyatt stared at the spot where Aunamee's ghost had disappeared, a muscle jerking in his jaw, the words pushed hard through his teeth.

"The Gamemakers havin' a laugh-"

cccCRACK, the silence suddenly exploded into noise, tree limbs bending and snapping, bark spraying and leaves raining down as a beast - like nothing Wyatt had ever seen - pressed through the trees, breaking through the line as if they were nothing more than reeds.

Impossibly tall, it loomed before them, all dark pebbled skin, wicked teeth, and dark unblinking eyes. The great tail swished, smashed into another tree, the mouth opened - and Wyatt had just enough clarity, as his breath was strangling in this throat, to amend his previous thought.

A trap.

Maximus' jaw dropped as the massive beast revealed itself. He'd never seen anything like it - not even an elephant could compare to this giant thing - and for two whole heart beats he was frozen.

Then suddenly instinct slammed into him.

"Run." The word slipped from his lips before it registered in his brain, and suddenly he grabbed Wyatt's shoulder and started pulling him backwards.

"Run."

His first step back was stumbling, eyes fixed on the nightmare before them, but the next was surer, the grip of Max's hand on his shoulder taking root in his mind when the word failed.

He reached out blindly, fingers wrapping in Max's sleeve, pushing as he was pulled. He saw the head tip, dabbled light playing of the yellowed fangs protruding under the dark lip, one big black eye narrowing on them... and then he saw nothing.

Nothing but the trees ahead of him and Max beside him, a blur in the corner of his eye as they tore into the trees.

Behind them the beast roared, a thunderous blast that hummed in Wyatt's body, chest vibrating in time. The ground began to shake, trembling beneath their boots as the creature gave chase.

Maximus' leg almost screamed as he ran, creaking with a violent intesity as they crashed through the underbrush. It didn't matter - any sound they created with their desperate flight was nothing compared to the uproar behind them.

The monster, the beast, had set its sights against them and ripped through the jungle as if it were a spider's web. Branches and limbs and vines all torn from their trees, sent flying in a cavalcade of shrapnel, dangerous in of itself but nothing compared to the monster that caused it.

Maximus did not look back, though his tight grip on Wyatt's shirt assured him that they were still together, even if he didn't spare his partner a single glance - to focused on where they were running to.

Wyatt didn't know where they were going. Didn't know how close the beast was. Didn't know if his next breath, the next step, the next hammering beat of his heart would be his last.

All that mattered was that he keep going. Was that he could still feel Max's grip on him, that Max's shirt was still wound between his fingers - still there, still together, still alive.

There was a heavy snap behind them, and a rush of air, the creature's jaws coming down a second too late, missing them by fractions and ripping at a tree in their stead.

It bought them a moment, a series of racing heartbeats - that they lost again when the trees suddenly opened up and the ground gave way.

A cliff, a sheer drop suddenly there, seemingly out of nowhere.

Wyatt jerked, yanking on Max as he dug in his heels, skidding toward the edge. Sliding close enough to see the river below, a ribbon of brownish green, churning through the jungle.

The ground under his feet gave way and tumbled, careening down the side of the cliff to splash far down in the water below. For a frantic heartbeat it looked like Maximus was going to go right over the edge - and drag Wyatt with him - before he managed to stable himself.

And then he knew there was only one way to go.

"Down!" He yelled to Wyatt.

There was a glance, a heartbeat where their eyes met. The ground was shaking, the beast hot on their heels. There was no hope of taking it down, he knew that, and outrunning it...

The trees behind them exploded, wood and leaves flying, the monster crashing after them, closing the distance.

There was only one way out.

His fingers tightened, holding hard, and he leaped over the edge.

Their eyes met, he could feel Wyatt's fingers tighten in his shirt, and he leapt.

Leapt, and there was nothing below them but air.

About half a second into the air Maximus reflected on what a terrible idea it had been. Ground was one of the greatest gifts of nature and he had abandoned it, to plummet to his hypothetical death. His grip on Wyatt was torn apart, gravity and the force of air breaking it apart, and then a heart beat later he hit the water.

Everything seemed slow, like he was jumping through molasses rather than air. He had enough time to wonder if they'd been too late, if he was about to feel teeth, to feel his heart stutter - then he caught up.

His stomach jumped into his throat, his heart slammed hard against his ribs. The air ripped over him, his free arm windmilled, reaching for nothing - and then for Max, when he was snatched away.

And then, there was nothing to do but sink. To gasp and swallow a stomach of the river as he plunged into the churning water like a brick.

It was better than being eaten, and better than being smeared across the ground, but it was hard to appreciate that as he broke the surface, coughing and sputtering, water in his eyes, current dragging at him.

"Max!" He twisted around in the water, scanning frantically. His cry all but lost under the rush of the river and the now distant roar of the beast, wailing it's disappointment from the cliff above.

"Max!"

The sudden force of the water pushed all the air from his lungs and the first time he tried to bring more in all he got was a throat full of water. He finally broke the surface, coughing and gasping, glad for the first time in a while that he wasn't wearing his armour.

He heard Wyatt calling out his name and he tried to reply but all he could do was cough up more water, struggling to pull himself high up enough to get his whole head above the water.

"--yatt!"

Ears straining, Wyatt heard it, the call that had no business coming from the river. He twisted again at the sound of his name, catching sight of Max as he struggled, fighting to hold himself above the water.

"Max!"

He struck out for him, got a stroke, and the water was ripping at him, forcing him under again as it tried to push him downstream. His boots dragged across the bottom, fighting for purchase -- and he finally broke free again, coming up closer.

He flung out a hand, reaching, as he struggled to swim closer with the other.

"Grab'a hold!"

He did - grabbing as hard as he dared, lest he drag Wyatt under, and he finally broke the surface, finally managed to drag a real good gasp of air into his lungs. He choked and spluttered, but he breathed.

And Wyatt was alive.

So he had plenty to be thankful for.

"Shore--" he managed to get out, his voice raw from having swallowed that water.

Wyatt pulled on him, dragging him closer, wrapping under Max's arms. Holding them both above the surface while the current swept them along, down and around a bend. Holding them together lest the river try and separate them again. (The cliff disappeared, their monster lost behind the trees.)

"There."

Ahead of them, and coming up fast, a tree had fallen into the water, branches reaching out like helping hands.

He reached out with his free arm as they neared, making a grab at the closest limb.

Maximus grabbed out for it too, though it forced him to let go of Wyatt, and the great tree shook with a deep shudder as the two men smashed into it.

It was lucky, only, that held the tree in place, braced up against the rocks.

Maximus clung to it like a drenched rat, coughing up the last of the water in his lungs.

"Wyatt?" He managed to get out, suddenly aware that he needed to check. If Wyatt missed, and kept going down the river...

"I'm here..." he coughed the words up, and reached out, touching Max's shoulder lightly with the hand that wasn't holding the tree in a white-knuckled grip.

There was a beat of silence after, broken only by the water and the rough pant of their breathing, then Wyatt shifted, the tree creaking threatening as he began to pull his way up the trunk. Tugging on Max's shirt as he went.

"Come on... we're almost there."

He nodded, and slowly began to struggle his way down the trunk, following as closely to Wyatt as he could, fighting against the current that was trying to pull him under once more.

He only managed to relax when his toes met gravel on the bed of the Rive, and he knew they were just about out. When he reached the bank, he collapsed to his knees, and coughed out the rest of the water in his lungs.

Wyatt splashed out of the river, flopping onto the bank like a landed fish. Too tired and worn and miserably wet to pretend like he was anything but.

Fingers curling in the loose earth, he gulped air, one glorious breath after another. Feeding his starving lungs, trying to ease his thundering heart.

When he trusted himself to speak again, he reached out, fingers wrapping blindly around Max's elbow.

"...Still... alive there, Max?"

"Still alive..." He said lowly, huddled over the sand as his body drew in wracking breaths that burned their way into his lungs.

But yes, he was still alive.

"... The... creature. How far...?"

"Gone."

Like something out of a bad dream, fading with the sunrise.

He patted Max's elbow tiredly and then his hand slipped away, sliding down to rest in the wet sand as he rolled onto his back, and blinked into the high afternoon sun.

Somewhere, he imagined, money was changing hands - bets won and lost - and disappointed Gamemakers were reluctantly turning away from their cannon.

The bastards.

"...I ain't never seen anythin' like that before." There was a flicker in the sky, the strange force field that kept them all in the arena flashing like lightning behind the clouds. "'Spose I should'a known it'd be a trap."

"No, nor have I," Maximus said, his voice mangled and rough. He coughed again, and then spit on the ground. He tried to get up but all he managed to do was collapse onto his back instead.

"... Nothing like it. It was taller than an elephant..."

He turned his head to look at Wyatt.

"But we are alive. That is what matters."

Wyatt nodded, a small, slow bob of his head, exhaling a long breath through his nose. His eyes closed. Just for a moment.

Just one moment to feel the sun on his face, to hear in the wind through the trees, and to know Max was save beside him before they forced themselves up and on and back into the jungle to face more blood and death and wet, sticky darkness.

"Jus' another day in paradise."

Maximus chuckled, a low and grating sound, deep from the depths of a raw throat.

He reached out, patting Wyatt's shoulder affectionately before letting his hand drop back into the sand.

"Perfect day for a nap," He agreed with a low chuckle, and then froze. "... Wyatt. The supplies--"

They were close that they're hands bumped, knuckle to knuckle to the sand.

He supposed it would have been polite to pull back, to give the other man some room,... but he didn't. He let his hand rest there, against Max's, taking a simple comfort in it. Knowing he was there, without even having to ask.

He started to snort, a low, tired sound of amusement, but it caught in his throat as Max went on. Tangled and turned into a rough groan.

"We'll have to go back for 'em."

It was a blessing really, that they'd had the foresight at the time to stash them, rather than carry them along as they'd have likely lost them in the river... but that didn't mean he was happy with the idea of hiking back through the jungle, over miles they'd already crossed.

Maximus gave an answering groan, raising his other hand to scrub at his face.

"Hopefully the beast's territory doesn't extend that far," He murmured lowly.

He meant to sit up. He really did. But he was exhausted and sitting up seemed like a herculean task.

"... Perhaps... in a moment. Or ten."

"Maybe by then it'll've found some other poor bastards to chase around."

He could think of a couple he'd like to volunteer.

"...If not," his mouth twitched, pulling at one corner. "Well, there's still time to practice hoppin' quick like a bunny."

Though he made no move to do so. Eyes still closed, chest rising and falling slowly.

"There must be a way to take it down," Maximus said after a quiet chuckle, picturing Wyatt doing a bunny impression. "An arrow to the eye, perhaps...?"

He didn't exactly move very fast either, but he did eventually - letting out a long, low groan as he pulled himself upright and reached over to pat Wyatt's chest.

"Come. We'll regret it if something gets into the food."

"You go on' an give it a try, an' let me know how it goes for ya," Wyatt chuckled.

Sounded to him like an great way to piss the thing off and an even faster to way to find themselves down it's gullet.

"Me, I'd rather avoid it iffen we can."

But, all the same, he reached out and griped Max's elbow, pulling himself up with a low grunt.

"But yer right, a'course. I will be mighty upset if some mangy lizard gets into the last of the jerky."

Smiling, he pushed up onto his feet, and held out a hand.

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My boy builds coffins, for better or worse.

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