thearena | (no subject)

Who| Sherlock, John, Joan, Punchy, and OPEn
What| Sherlock decides to build a computer.
Where| In the Parking Garage
When| Endish of Week 2
Warnings/Notes| None yet, beyond the general warning of Sherlock being a complete tosser.

He'd been collecting pieces for days. Dissembling anything he came across that could possibly have electronic components in it, building a slowly growing pile of loot where Joan had been stashed while John built her a brace. Eventually, though, she was able to walk again, and Sherlock made the decision to make the final push.

Dragging his companions back to the parking garage with his trusty crowbar in tow and only a few broken ribs, he had all his components wrapped in various pieces of clothing stolen off the backs of glaring manikins. He would have to thank Timaeus for the crowbar later, but for now it was going to come in more useful than the man probably meant it to.

His aim was a vehicle, and he managed to find one that hadn't already been totaled by the other tributes.

"Stand back," He murmured to John and Joan as he angled into the window and cranked the door open before sliding inside. Checked the glove compartment, smirked a thanks to Punchy and drew out the key to hold it up.

"Well. Time to build a computer."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sherlock was still in the car, fiddling with his computer and didn't look up.

"What is it?" He called out in a low voice to Joan, somewhat irritably.

He stopped and held up his weapon when he heard her call out, instantly on the defensive... but oh. It was her. And just the sight of her was enough to put him on the back foot for a moment. The wedding reception, recent as it was, already felt like ages ago.

For whatever it was worth, there wasn't a spot of blood on his weapon. He hadn't needed to use it in anything like a fatal capacity yet.

"I mean no harm," he announced, taking a step -- not toward them, but parallel to where they stood. Still holding his weapon up. He didn't trust anyone here. "I'm only -- exploring."

Joan still didn't know what to call the man. If and when they had the opportunity to talk at length again, that would be one of the first things she brought up. She knew Sherlock had met him, though, so she lets the sound of the man's voice answer his question.

"It's okay," she answered. "You're safe. We're not going to hurt you." She paused, trying to take stock of his condition. It didn't amount to much, though; the garage was dimly lit, he was a ways away, and already covered in scars and stitches.

"Are you okay?"

At not having a direct answer to his question, Sherlock grumbled lowly under his breath as he extracted himself from the car, only to freeze.

It wasn't that he particularly felt ill will to the Creature, but it was still impossible to completely separate the instinctual reaction from the logical one.

That, and he had absolutely no data on how Creature behaved in an arena. With a weapon. The fact that it was clean hardly meant much - after all, there was no shortage of weapons in this arena.

"Joan--" He started, fingers gripping into the rubber doorframe.

"I am unharmed." His head canted to one side when Sherlock appeared. What were they doing with that car? There was nowhere for it to go if it could run, and it wouldn't make a very good hiding place...

Joan kept a firm grip on the crowbar, but she didn't think the man was going to attack them. He was being careful to step parallel to them, and although his...was that a bone?...weapon was raised, she felt it was more in self defense than anything.

"It's okay," she murmured to Sherlock.

Unharmed, perhaps, but certainly not unarmed. Sherlock, on the other hand, very much was - his crowbar lying in Joan's hands instead of his own.

He suddenly severely regretted sending John on an errand.

"Well. That seems good luck, for your first arena," Sherlock said, his voice a little clipped.

"People have been far more interested in conversation than in killing. It is only a matter of avoiding the hazards."

And, in fact, with that in mind... He relaxed, lowered his weapon. Cast another glance around the space, to make certain they was no one else around.

"I am going to take a look around," he announced, addressing Joan more than Sherlock, gesturing with his free hand to indicate the space around them. "I will not come near you."

After all, he had no reason to attack them if they didn't do so first.

"We'll return the favor," Joan replied, sliding a glance to Sherlock. Their visitor clearly didn't mean them harm.

Sherlock didn't reply for himself, side eyeing the creature and glancing firmly at Joan.

Finally he let out an annoyed breath and slipped back into the car to ignore them.

He hoped Joan had the good sense to keep a close eye on him.

It didn't take much of an exploration to discover there was nothing down here. Plenty of wreckage and disarray: broken glass, scraps of nothing useful left near the Cornucopia, long-dried blood stains.

And yet -- after pacing a wide half-circle around the cavernous space, the Creature glanced upward toward the ceiling -- he was in no great rush to head upstairs again. This was the most peaceful of the levels he'd been on. Wide-open space, well-lit, not many blind corners or hidden nooks where someone might be hiding. It was stark and grey and silent, and that was comforting.

His attention was drawn back to the others. Sherlock had said he was a detective. The Creature didn't know that word, though he did know detect, and so it was easy enough to extrapolate the meaning. One who discovers things. But the Creature still knew very little about cars, so it was hard to say what he might have discovered in there.

He stepped closer, and addressed his question to Joan. Gestured with his free hand toward the car.

"What is he doing in there?"

His step closer didn't bother her, even though she was aware that it would probably raise Sherlock's hackles just a little bit more. She didn't want to give away everything about Sherlock's plans, of course, but that was okay, since their visitor wouldn't be likely to understand most of it anyway.

"He's trying to use the power," she settled on.

Sherlock himself didn't reply, of course - Joan could handle well enough on her own - though he did stiffen, his back turned towards them as he worked.

Or at least pretended to work, his ears straining to catch their words.

"But there's no way out of here."

It might seem like something of a logical leap. In his mind, it made sense: using the power of the car meant making it move, but what use could that be in this place? Where could they go?

It made perfect sense, especially since he seemed to be from a time before electronics. Why else would they want power, except to try to take the car and get out.

"We're not looking for escape," she answered. "We're looking for information."

"And a method of entertaining ourselves aimlessly with a video screen," Sherlock muttered just loudly enough for both of them to hear.