etcircenses: (Default)
Panem Events ([personal profile] etcircenses) wrote in [community profile] thearena2014-01-18 02:35 pm

ARENA 09 - THE MUSEUM

The Tributes are woken up early for this Arena, and switched from whatever sleeping attire they're currently in to a set of pajamas, each designed for the individual in questions. Women wear onesies, and most of the men wear two-pieces, but other than that any similarities are at random - the outfits are in all sorts of colors and patterns.

The floor of the helicopter taking them to their Arena location, and of the underground entrance to the tubes that hoist them to the surface, will feel cold under their bare feet.

Rather than bringing them to sunlight, like the tubes have in the past, instead the Tributes are presented to a dark concrete ceiling in a badly-lit parking lot. Fluorescent lights do little to illuminate the cavernous space.

The countdown begins, announced as if from far away.

20

19

18…


The Cornucopia, a ghastly thing carved from stone and concrete, sits at the center of a pattern of white and yellow lines reminiscent of spots for parked cars. The painted lines create a sort of spoked wheel, providing lanes for the Tributes leading to the prizes at the center. Some of the more unfortunate Tributes will find the concrete architecture has placed pillars in their lanes.

8

7

6…


Six parked cars lie around the outskirts of the huge lot, barely visible in the dim lighting. Glowing exit signs on two opposite sides of the chamber announce where Tributes should go to escape the bloodbath. Elevator doors are perched beneath them.

3

2

1


The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces "the Arena is now open". The Games have begun.
celebrityskinned: (Basic - Fancy Dress)

Venus | OTA

[personal profile] celebrityskinned 2014-01-18 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)
They dress her up in a tiger onesie, and since she's alert enough this early in the morning, she bothers to protest it. Tiger stripes, really? Bare feet? They say it'll make her look cute, and she supposes that if she's dressed like a tiger there's probably some poor asshole dressed like a dalmatian, so she slaps some color into her cheeks on the helicopter and mentally prepares herself.

The mental preparation doesn't take that long. Venus has been doing this sort of thing for much longer than she was in Panem. She closes her eyes and thinks of who her allies are, who her enemies are. She opens them when the familiar needle - her 'booster shot' - goes into her shoulder.

"You couldn't warn me?" She rolls her eyes as her Stylist wipes the spot of the injection down. "How long will this last?"

"A few weeks."

"The whole Arena?"

"A few weeks. The audience wants to see if Enjolras comes for you when you need him most."

"That's fucking great," Venus says. She stares down at her feet, at the blue-painted toenails winking back up at her, her feet curled slightly against the cold floor. "Because he's not even watching."

She walks without being led to the tube, not resigned to her fate because she doesn't consider it condemnation. By the time she reaches the top of the tube and can take in the parking lot and her competition, she's got her game face on, her sly, camera-ready smirk.

Time to baptize another Arena in blood. Venus lowers herself into a runner's stance, eyes focused not on the prizes but on the Tributes around her. When the gong goes off she springs off her pedestal and sprints down her lane with the speed of a runaway train.
Edited 2014-01-18 19:49 (UTC)
revvinguptheharley: (I flip for you)

Re: Venus | OTA

[personal profile] revvinguptheharley 2014-01-18 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Harley let out a "Whoop!" And went scrambling for the prizes in the middle. She felt really good about this arena and the cute red PJs with black diamond shapes on them probably had something to do with it.

Feeling cocky she even performed a graceful front flip over a Tribute who tripped and fell, sticking her tongue out at them as she darted away. Nothing could stop her now right?!

A fire starting kit...perfect! She turned to run for it.
callmecharles: (Step off)

Charles "Orc" OTA

[personal profile] callmecharles 2014-01-18 07:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Orc felt sick to his stomach.

His outfit made him feel like a little boy again. It even had race cars on the pants and a matching drag racers on the chest of his shirt.

He had to do better this time...had to find Howard. As the countdown began he got into a football crouch and let his beady eyes roam the area in front of him.

With a roar that seemed much less intimidating now that he was human he charged forward with two goals in mind. Find some gear and get to Howard.

It was unfortunate that without his stone skin to protect him...he was very, very vulnerable.
Edited 2014-01-18 19:58 (UTC)
justoutrunyou: (I don't have to outrun the bear just you)

Sandy OTA

[personal profile] justoutrunyou 2014-01-18 08:03 pm (UTC)(link)
Sandy's mind whirled with possibility as she tugged on the onesies which featured a pattern of bunny rabbits looking decidedly adorable.

The plan was the same as always. Grab some items, find Pruna. Or failing that find somewhere to hide. She would have to move faster then fast, especially since she was barefoot. She couldn't afford to let any of the grown ups stomp on her feet.

The countdown ended and Sandy launched herself into space, legs pumping underneath her with a mix of fear and determination.

This time she wasn't just fighting for herself, she was fighting for all of District 12. Life was shitty enough for them as it was. The least she could do was try and give them hope.
nunpunching: (We cool we cool.)

Punchy | OTA

[personal profile] nunpunching 2014-01-18 08:04 pm (UTC)(link)
It's not hip hop that Punchy's singing under his breath this morning. It's "Redemption Song" by Bob Marley.

He ran the last Cornucopia, and then spent most of the Arena cowering in caves and corners, either bleeding or whimpering. It's the worst sort of tragedy, he feels - one which he feels wholly responsible for but which invites no sympathy. The Avoxing was his problem, and he should have bucked up instead of buckling under.

But the Stylists are talking about him being a Comeback Kid, and he likes the sound of that. He suckles on this way to reinvent himself until his ego is fattened again, until he's ready to go out and do what he does best in the Arena.

He's a goddamn hero, and his ridiculous pajamas match that. His tongue is heavy in his mouth, and it's the best damn feeling.

When he rises to the top of his pedestal, he eyes the people to watch out for and the people to rescue. Flush with a strategy, fueled by a goal, he's ready when the gong goes off. And the impulses making him run to help others are sweet as sugar and hot as embers in his soul.
doc_holi: (excuse you)

Holiday | OTA

[personal profile] doc_holi 2014-01-18 08:04 pm (UTC)(link)
This was, by far, the worst outfit they had thrown her in yet. Holiday didn't know what to expect after being put in a night gown. Honestly, if they were going to do that, they should have just thrown her in naked.

A parking lot was one of the last things she expected. Immediately, she knew they must have been on a low level of... a tall building? If she survived the blood bath, perhaps she can figure out what the building is. Hopefully some sort of hospital...

She scans the items scattered out of the Cornucopia - making a note of the bullets without any guns - before taking a quick glance at her immediate opposition and those straight across from her. While bullets were probably out of her reach, she honed in on a first aid kit and decided to go from there. Escaping the level was also going to be tricky noted by the limited number of exits, but if those vehicles were more than just decoration, perhaps she can make it work.

After that, Rebecca only had enough time to take a deep breath before the sprint began. At least, at this point, she no longer cared for decency in her attire. Hopefully that would play up to her favor... in more ways than one.
pythianjudgment: ([alt] >8/)

Terezi Pyrope | OTA

[personal profile] pythianjudgment 2014-01-18 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)
When shown her outfit for this arena, Terezi almost laughs. This has got to be a joke, right? It takes almost a full five minutes for her prep team to convince her that yes, she's actually supposed to be wearing this. It doesn't take her that much longer to put it on, but she feels really ridiculous. Snuggly. But ridiculous.

The first thing that Terezi notices is the drab grey of this arena. The place reeks of concrete and ash and dingy lack of color--save for the bright spots that mark the other Tributes in their equally ridiculous pajamas. (Thank the mothergrub for that.) But the Tributes aside, the whole place reminds Terezi of the meteor in a really unsettling way. She hopes that the rest of the arena isn't like this, or she's in for a long few weeks.

At least the dim light doesn't pose a problem for her.

As the voice counts down into the single digits, she focuses on the goal ahead. The painted lines are more than a little unnerving and definitely unnecessary. They know where to go, but the illusion that their path is marked out for them, like a runway towards certain doom, makes her press her lips into a tight line. She hopes those Capitol people are getting their entertainment value from watching them all sprint towards that bloody collision. The Tributes aren't the only ones on a crash-course.

The countdown finishes, and Terezi is bolts for the cornucopia.
Edited 2014-01-18 20:07 (UTC)
emptytrousers: (And now we're staring down truth.)

Kili (ota!)

[personal profile] emptytrousers 2014-01-18 08:08 pm (UTC)(link)
Kili still isn't sure how this kind of thing could actually happen and asks his stylist multiple times if it's some kind of joke or prank, even as she shoves him into a teal pajama top that hangs past his waist and brown bottoms that she has to roll up at his ankles. She doesn't answer the question as she tells him it was either too long or otherwise child-sized, which makes him huff indignantly as she nudges him into the clear tube.

The darkness isn't an issue to the dwarf, nor is all the concrete, but he still doesn't quite know what's going on. That can't be serious in expecting people to kill each other for sport. Right? When the countdown finishes, he stands on his pedastal for a few beats longer, staring at the mad rush for the cornucopia. As soon as the first bit of blood is spilled onto the concrete though, the archer can at least gather that he doesn't want to be down here. He glances around to find the semi-familiar double doors that usually belonged to the magic steel carriages. They could take him out of here.

He doesn't waste any more time as he sprints across the cold concrete, listening to the sounds of battle behind him, and jabs the button for the elevator. Okay magic carriage, don't fail him now.
revvinguptheharley: (I flip for you)

Harley Quinn OTA

[personal profile] revvinguptheharley 2014-01-18 08:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Harley was bouncing around the Cornucopia like she was on springs. Swinging out her long powerful legs at anyone in range she aimed to make herself a pain in anyone and everyone's necks literally.

A flash of red, some black diamonds and you too may find yourself unfortunate enough to catch her foot in your face, stomach, groin or back as she scrambled around trying to irritate everyone at once.
pointandclickme: (pic#1139883)

Mouse | OTA

[personal profile] pointandclickme 2014-01-18 08:11 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon...."

After discovering there wasn't much point in having a car with no where to go- and that carphones apparently weren't a thing here- Mouse had pocketed the keys and finally made his way up into the museum proper. He wasn't sure what kind of messed up program he'd apparently glitched into after the agents hit, but after the little murder display downstairs what he was sure of was that he wasn't that keen on sticking around to find out. So all the pretty things were ignored as he made a beeline to the small office where the projectors sat. Computer? Check. And, more importantly, a phone.

Mouse grinned ear to ear as he slid to sit back against the wall, head no longer visible through the small projection window, taking the phone down with him. A moment later he had the handset cradled against his ear.

No dial tone.

"Tank, Tank! Stop messing around."
Edited 2014-01-18 20:12 (UTC)
polyturtle: (oh...oh dear...)

Donatello | OTA

[personal profile] polyturtle 2014-01-18 08:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Pajamas. He was in pajamas. A pajama set with a t-shirt and grey sweatpants. And...that was it. No boots, no gear, nothing.

It was a little worrying, to say the least. Even in the previous Arena, they got socks and shoes.

10 9 8 7

The darkness coming up from the tubes didn't help, either. There was no sunlight. Either it was night where they were, or...or...

...

They were in a parking lot. With...wait. Were those cars?

What? What??

6 5 4

This was...different. Were they in a city? Was it New York City? Was it an underground Arena, or was something above them? What was above them, if the latter were true?

Granted, Don was never one to feel claustrophobic, given how he'd lived in sewers most of his life. However, the smallness and lack of good light in the area was disconcerting. It didn't allow him to get a decent bead on anything outside of the Cornucopia, and the lighting in the are made it hard to see Mindy or anyone else well. Which meant he didn't know whether going to the Cornucopia was even worth it.

Definitely worrying.

3 2

Don found he had little choice. He had to go for the Cornucopia. Whether or not he wanted to. He took a deep breath, bending his knees.

1

And he was off when the gong rang, his feet slapping against concrete as he ran.
formersurgeon: (looking away)

Joan Watson

[personal profile] formersurgeon 2014-01-18 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Joan's onesie was covered with green dinosaurs. Her stylist was giggling while Joan pulled the wretched thing on, and her giggling only increased when Joan rolled her eyes hard.

When her platform rose into the arena, she blinked, eyes narrowed slightly, peering into the dimly lit space. This...was weird. Was the rest of the arena outside this parking garage? Was it some sort of urban landscape? An office building? A mall? She thought she could make out Sherlock several platforms to her right. She couldn't see John at all.

10...9...8...

She looked at the cornucopia. She could get to it. She could run on the concrete. She ran on the concrete all the time.

5...4...3...

A quick glance around, and she crouched, eyes on the structure.

2...1...GONG

Joan dashed toward the cornucopia. She didn't look at anyone else, focusing on getting their quick and getting out quicker. She paused when she saw what the supplies up close, though. They looked...useless.

She saw a first aid kit, and went for it.
Edited 2014-01-18 20:17 (UTC)
casaerotica13: (to heaven)

Gabriel | OTA

[personal profile] casaerotica13 2014-01-18 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
At first, he had put the PJs on without much question. Today was the big day and why they hell couldn't he enjoy it in comfort? On the other hand, he frowned when he saw his outfit in a mirror before directly frowning to his stylists.

Ha ha, guys. Ha. Good one. El oh el. Much funny.

He continued huffing about it until the tube closed around him. He looked up to watch as he ascended out into the parking lot, getting a view of the Cornucopia, tributes, all that good stuff. Finally, finally, he was a little scared. All of that ignoring it hadn't done all that much good, like he knew from the start.

He let his fear out in another breath as he shifted on the pedestal and took a good look at the treasures before them all. He wasn't at a great advantage and he knew it, so this was his best bet, so long as he was careful... This could even be fun. Might as well be. What else was he gonna do about it?

He smirked at the bullets, first-aid kits and... laser pointer. Oh, he had to have that. Gabe jumped in place for a second until the time lulled out and he sprinted into action. This angel's jumped into heavier battles than this to carry messages to and fro only to come out unscathed. Granted, he wasn't nearly as quick anymore, but it was all in the dance really.

He slid on one knee to grab that laser pointer before going for other stuff. Laser pointers are important.
gruesome: (Default)

Some || OTA but especially De

[personal profile] gruesome 2014-01-18 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
The only thing the stylist team could figure out for sleepwear for Some was a nightshirt, cut away at the sides so it draped over his back but fell nearly to his knees in front. They compensated for its simplicity by making it bright blue. A blue so bright that even the grue could see it. He picked at the design on it, a cheery moon and stars, each with smiling faces, while the tube rose and pushed him into the arena.

This part was familiar. He could feel his heart speed up as he looked around at the circle of tributes, all waiting. The smell of tension was thick under the low, comforting ceiling.

The moment the signal rang, Some sprinted for one of the exit signs like a filing drawn to a lodestone, down on all eights and running in undulating leaps.

Re: Gabriel | OTA

[personal profile] iflipmyhair 2014-01-18 08:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Hello, Gabriel.

One moment, he was alone. The next, Homura was suddenly next to him, wordless grabbing for one of those first-aid kits that the angel may have been eyeing. She was looking at him with a critical eye as she did so, as if to say, "Really?"

Unless he intended to blind people foolish enough to not close their eyes, she wasn't sure how effective his find was going to be,
Edited 2014-01-18 20:24 (UTC)
gardienne: (wary)

Re: PARKING LOT

[personal profile] gardienne 2014-01-18 08:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Eponine hadn't meant to run away. Truly, she hadn't. She had promised herself that she was going to run for the Cornucopia this time. She was going to play the game properly, and to hell with the consequences. But when that klaxon sounded, she found her feet carrying her in the opposite direction, and towards the cars.

She's seen cars before. She's been IN a car. She knows that someone drives it to where she wants to go, when she gives them money. She also knows that the fluffy pink suit they have shoved her in has no money in it at all. She tries the door handle, but it's locked, of course. So what now? She looks around, tightly plaited hair whipping as she twists to assess where the footsteps are coming from. And without further ado, she drops and wriggles into the narrow space between car and floor. Hopefully, whoever is coming will not notice her there.

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