You feel that you should run, but where are you to hide in the water?

[the_marshal]

WHO| Wyatt and OTA
WHAT| It's a brand new arena, time to settle in and scope things out
WHERE| Third Floor
WHEN| Second day
Warnings/Notes| None at this time. Will update as necessary!



He felt ridiculous - a grown man, hiding in a glorified outhouse - but given his choices, the he knew it was his best option.

The dining room was far too big to hold alone and all that food was bound to attract attention, which, he imagined was exactly what the Gamemakers were hoping for. The volcano room, despite the sign proclaiming otherwise, was not to be trusted - he could all too easily see painful, fiery death raining down from above at a whim. The skeleton room, even without the ominous beeping rhythmically breaking the quiet like a small, insistent heartbeat, set the hair on the back of his neck on end. The vacant eyes seemed to follow him, staring accusingly as he ripped away some of the bones from a smaller display to use as makeshift weapons. The sparkling room off in one corner of the floor he hadn't even attempted, the dark, glittering corners stretching further back than he could see.

The bathroom, meanwhile, was small and quiet, with only one way in or out. He was blinder than a bat with the door closed, but that would be true, he knew, of anybody trying to sneak in on him.

Tucked up in the space beside the door - where he'd be hidden if someone came in - he waited out that first, uncertain night, listening to the new arena. Trying to settle in. Once or twice he heard the increasingly familiar chime of the elevator, announcing new arrivals to the floor, but other than a distant thump that he took as somebody scavenging and the death announcements - piped in from somewhere unseen - there was nothing.

Sleep alluded him most of the night, the quiet too profound, the knowledge that he was alone too sharp, but he eventually dozed off into a light, fitful sleep.

Sometime later - it felt like minutes, but might have been as long as a couple hours - he picked himself up off the cold floor and shook out his aches, longjohns rustling in the dark. Slipping the bag back on (he wasn't going to risk leaving anything behind, not when he could carry it so easily), he carefully pulled the door open a crack and checked the hall, white leg-bone held at the ready as he slipped out of cover.

Comments

[wantwhatiwant]

Ian had been staying hidden since the Cornucopia, he had gotten onto the third floor and hadn't left, not trusting the elevators both for their potential to be death traps and the high likelihood of meeting other tributes.

He was planning to find the edible plants that the book he had gotten had mentioned, but so far they did not seem to be on this floor, he had found a cafeteria though, and stolen as many sandwiches as he could carry in the bag he had grabbed.
`
When he heard a noise he drew back, shining the laser pointer in front of him as he crept closer, wondering who or what it was and if he could get past without being seen.

[the_marshal]

The noise was as soft as Wyatt could make it, but in the stillness of this new, tomb-like arena, everything was sharp edges. As sudden and mistakable as a crack of thunder.

Wincing, mouth twisting unhappily, he released the handle of the door to the stairwell - he'd hoped, maybe, that they'd been unlocked over night - and stepped back, shifting the strap of his bag as he moved.

So much for that.

Turning away, he chewed over his choices: go back to the bathroom, check the cafeteria again, maybe see if that dark set rooms in the corner looked more appealing a second day in - and stopped dead at the play of red against the floor.

It took him a moment to place it - to remember the similar beam that had come from the little device in his bag - but once it did, he was moving fast, ducking into the nearest exhibit and out of sight.

Waiting.

[wantwhatiwant]

Ian heard a noise and covered the lazer pointer with his hand, creeping along, looking around. Trying to see what had made the noise. Breathing because creeping after strange noises in the dark was creepy. But it was better than thinking, better than concentrating on his injuries. Better than sleeping because at least this was real and the nightmares were just memories sent to haunt him.

He entered the exhibit, eyes adjusting to the space, looking around trying to be as quiet as he could.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt pressed a shoulder against the wall just around the corner, leaning enough to watch the dancing light's advance. His heart thumped, kicking up in pace, as his muscles tightened, fingers twitching (still after all this time, reaching instinctively for his belt only to find it missing).

When the light disappeared, he stiffened, straining to follow the footfalls - the pat of bare feet against the dirty floor - and leaned back as they drew ever closer. Preparing himself--

When the tribute entered beside him, he didn't hesitate - didn't get a chance to see who it was. He simply reacted.

His hands snapped out, grabbing a hold and yanking back, dragging the stranger into a headlock. Tight enough to keep him from hurting himself or Wyatt without being immediately life-threatening.

"Easy!" he barked. "Easy, I ain't-- Ian?"

[wantwhatiwant]

Ian fought, lashing out arms and kicking with legs even if just the pressure made him want to scream in pain. The voice though made him calm a little. Wyatt... not a complete psycho. Had been nice to him in the past. Not that meant anything in a death match where only one person could survive.

"Yeah... Ian." His voice was soft, his throat hurt due to the headlock and one of the blisters on the back of it.

[the_marshal]

As quickly and easily as the arms had closed around him, they released, Wyatt dropping Ian back onto his feet without further preamble.

"Sorry, son," he said honestly, immediately feeling bad for it. "I didn't know it was you."

(It shouldn't have mattered. His life on the line... but he couldn't bring himself to hurt Ian anymore than he could the boy whose name he hadn't even known.

It just wasn't in him.)

[wantwhatiwant]

Ian stumbled but got his balance back quickly, angrily telling himself he would be dead if this hadn't been Wyatt and to get his head in the game quickly. "Doesn't matter." He shrugged, wincing at the pain. He wasn't completely sure why Wyatt hadn't killed him, except that Wyatt was a nice guy that didn't go around slaughtering seventeen year old's with attitude problems. Which made him far too nice of a person to be in this place.

If Wyatt's eyes had adjusted to the light enough he would probably see the blisters on Ian's hands, feet and face. Big and nasty looking. "Thanks for not... you know." He gave a half shrug, wincing at the pain.

[onlyimmune]

Ellie had spent almost the entirety of the last arena hiding, and it hadn't helped her. Instead she'd been forced to watch her friends die - for her - over and over again. So, she was determined to be proactive this time. She was going to find her friends, make sure she knew where they were - figure out ways to meet up with them again - and then find the rest.

Despite this being a death match, she knew there were people she could trust. She'd seen it.

And Wyatt Earp was one of them.

So she'd been on the look-out for him ever since the arena started. She'd met up with Mindy and Sandy, had gotten herself a bow and a few arrows, met a dwarf named Kili, and gotten a few freezer burns thanks to the fucked up sprinkler system. But she was alive, she had food, and she was ready for anything. She just hadn't found him yet.

She was also determined to get a good layout of the entire place so she knew where to run when shit went bad. That meant everything, even the toilets. She generally avoided bathrooms in her world - almost always dead ends - but that meant she needed to see what was in them, too. Nothing was going to surprise her this time.

Or, at least, that's what she thought when she reached out to grab the handle of the door and it opened before she managed it.

[the_marshal]

With as many go-rounds as he'd had, there was very little Wyatt didn't expect as he prepared to head out again. Between his fellow tributes and The Gamemakers, there was never a want for a dull moment... but even still, he had to admit that having a body waiting, right outside the crack of the door as he trying to leave, wasn't particularly high on the list.

Possible, definitely. But likely... he wouldn't have thought so, not this early in the game.

(Had someone - Aunamee - seen him come in?)

The way he saw it, in the heartbeat he had to think about it, he had two choices. Rear back and try and hold the door shut, or strike first.

So, he threw his shoulder into the door, pushing hard and fast. Hoping to knock the shadow of their feet... or give them one hell of a start at the very least.

[onlyimmune]

The door slammed into her shoulder forcefully and sent her sprawling to the floor - the bow saved only by the grace of her falling on her opposite side with a hard smack.

Her breath left her in a woosh, her curse only coming out in a gasp and nothing more as she struggled to get upright again, ready to pounce on her attacker and tear his eyes out with her finger--

"Wyatt?" She said when she recognized him. "What the fuck was that for?"

[the_marshal]

Well hell.

First Ian, now Ellie. His arena was off to a fine start.

Cursing - himself mostly - he held the door open with one hand, stopping the back-swing after it crashed off the wall, and reached out with the other, helping to haul her the rest of the way up and onto her feet.

"I didn't--" he started to explain, but it sounded lame enough in his own head that he cut himself off. There wasn't really any excuse for it. "I'm sorry, Sis. I didn't mean it."

He looked her over, hoping he hadn't hurt her.

"Ya alright?"

[onlyimmune]

She let him help her up, carefully touching her shoulder, but nothing felt broken.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Jeez, Wyatt, you pack a wallop when you want to."

She offered him a lopsided smile just to reassure him that she wasn't upset.

"Figures someone would be in the bathroom. Thought they might be a good hiding place. Do the toilets in there even work?"

[the_marshal]

He studied her a moment longer, making sure for himself that she was okay, then he relaxed. Most of the tension easing from his jaw and shoulders - most, as he never truly settled in the arena.

"Sinks too," he nodded, the edge of a careful smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. "If ya can find 'em in the dark."

It had been adventure, there in the middle of the night. The toes he'd stubbed still throbbed at the memory.

He stepped aside, pushing the door open for her.

"Need water?"

/not late at all

[doc_holi]

Not that she had liked any floor particularly so far, but the third floor wasn't making the best of impressions on Holiday so far. It looked like a glorified death trap. Though, the gem hall was nice, but pretty objects wasn't what she was looking for.

Food, water, and a weapon were her priorities. The Cornucopia was good to her, but it didn't provide nearly enough essentials. She had basically ran through the cafeteria, only taking a morsel to tide her over for maybe another hour or so. It was too dangerous to stay in for very long.

Bathrooms also looked like a death trap. However, it was a strong possibility of free water, so seeing a sign on every floor wasn't convincing her to stay away. She started slowly slinking away to the ones on the third floor. She hadn't seen or heard too many other tributes on the floor so far, so why not try here?

[the_marshal]

As Holiday began her stealthy, careful approach, the door to the men's bathroom sudden moved. With a soft thump, like a fist on a padded wall, and a small shudder, it popped open. Just a crack, the light from the hall not enough to penetrate the darkness within.

Fingers appeared, tanned, blunt nails, rough knuckles, curling around the edge of the door.

[doc_holi]

Holiday stopped moving when the door began to slowly open. She tried to quietly back away from it and into the shadows somewhere, but there wasn't anywhere to hide really. And she was defenseless...

[the_marshal]

He heard the movement, the rustle of fabric more than anything, and froze - door still open - as he tried to pinpoint where it was coming from. The crack he'd opened didn't allow him to see much, he could only guess that it was coming from behind the door or from further down the hall on his other side.

Both of which gave it the advantage.

There was a long pause, then he dared to speak.

"This ain't got'a end bad," he called out, fingers tightening on both the door and the bone - preparing for an attack. "We can both go our own ways."

[doc_holi]

Holiday stopped, eyes widening slightly, as she realized who the voice belonged to. She remembered a million arenas ago when they had both dived for the same item in a Cornucopia and he left her to have it. If he didn't attack her then, he wouldn't do so now.

"Wyatt?" Her voice was quiet to keep any others from hearing them.

[the_marshal]

Another pause.

"Doc?"

Then his face appeared, quizzical and not a little hopeful, peering around the door. Relaxing, noticeably, when he saw her. His grip easing on both the door and his makeshift weapon. His heart starting to beat regular again.

"Well, hell, Doc," he rumbled, chuckle relieved as he eased out from the around the door. "If ya wanted a visit all ya had to do was ask."

sorry for how long this took.

[earthborn]

Standard room-clearing procedure called for a quiet approach followed by an explosive, loud, vicious pounce. With grace, backed by guns, and kinetic shields as well as the element of surprise. This was not a position of grace, crouched in the hallway as if she wished to be made one with the paint in the wall, with an arm extended, opening the door by inches so as not to make a sound.

Slowly the door swung open, and Shepard, unknowing, slipped into the bathroom without seeing what lay crouched behind it.

[the_marshal]

It was exactly what Wyatt had predicted, and the door worked exactly as he'd hoped it would. Swinging open it closed off the small corner he'd claimed, blocking him from immediate sight as the stranger slowly and stealthily eased their way in.

On the downside, as the door protected him from sight, it also made it impossible for him to see who his visitor was. He had to shift, trying to peer through the crack along the hinge; had to be patient, waiting for the other tribute to move in past the edge of the door.

In the end it was the hair that gave her away.

There was only redhead that Wyatt knew of. Certainly only one that moved with that much purpose and care.

Quickly he chewed over his choices, whether or not he should reveal himself... He didn't know her well himself, but he knew Max liked her... he just couldn't say for certain that their friendship would be enough to save him a fight.

Finally, figuring she'd be thorough enough to find him on her own, he stepped back - giving her some room to react lest she be the strike first type (and he had a feeling she was) - and whistled. A soft, trilling sound that sounded twice as loud in the small, stone room.

[earthborn]

The beautiful thing about a room done all in tile and linoleum was that the slightest thing made a terrible din, particularly if you were listening for it. The rustle of clothing, the intake of breath, the scuff of feet against the floor when you moved. She was halfway to a bone-breaking strike when he made the sound, a reflexive little cock-back that had saved her life more than once. He was signalling her.

Wyatt.

Deep breath, slowly, let the door go, let your shoulders go with it. This was a shitty place for a conversation; but she owed something to keeping this man alive, at least for a time. In a wiser world, it would've ended there, but not today. He didn't seem ready to go for her either, not yet. Question was, what did he want? If she'd been in his position, it wouldn't matter who came through the door, they'd have died.

[the_marshal]

"He ain't here," Wyatt said, slow, steady drawl breaking through the dark. He couldn't see her after the door closed, even as his eyes adjusted, she was nothing more than a shape - a gathered darkness, darker than the black around her.

Of course he assumed she would be looking for Max. They were the friends here, the partners. Shepard had made it clear she had no place for a man like Wyatt.

"Victors ain't in this round."

[earthborn]

"I know."

The answer was a soft snort, clearly audible in the echoing cave around them. Did he think she was completely stupid? She knew that. Never two things twice here, that might get boring; he had all the information she did, going into this.

Wyatt Earp, you damned sap. It never occurred to Shepard to presuppose that he'd consider his involvement less or more valuable to her. A warm body was all that was needed to make an ally in here. It was all manufactured luck and split-second happenstance in here. She opened her eyes and showed the red glow to the man-shaped shadow that slowly resolved itself into Wyatt's face as the cybernetic eyes found their foothold in the darkness. Yeah, she could work with this.

"You got food?"

[the_marshal]

He stiffened, thinking that if this was going to descend into a brawl, that's where it would be. Max was the tie between them and without him, what use did a woman like Shepard have with Wyatt? She'd had no qualms doing what needed to be done.

The eyes - that faint red glow washing against her cheekbones in that same leering stare he'd have expected to find on Death's pale face, did nothing to soothe him.

"Dinin' Hall, at the end of the corridor," he told her. "Was stocked when I went through."

No promises now though.