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

Joan glanced at Sherlock, uncertain what his concerns were. Maybe John had told him about this girl, and she was more dangerous than she let on.

"We're not like most," she answered mildly.

"And we are in a Death Match." Waiting for death didn't mean it wouldn't come. Considering how many arenas he had been in, and how likely the chance was that the Capitol simply wouldn't resurrect him after this one, he was going to make the absolute most of his time here.

"Abnormal, we who are about to die, etc, etc," He waved his hand vaguely. "Are you here to speed that along, or indulge in your curiosity."

"Neither." More dramatics over death. What a strange world. "Unless you needed help with your death."

She turned back to the car and yanked out the battery. With her smaller knife she pried off the caps and checked the fluid level. "Avoid the fourth floor. Tell your Doctor the same." The battery went under her arm as she moved to a new car. There was a bit of curiosity over what the tiny group was doing, but she forced herself to focus on her own mission.

"Thanks for the warning," she said, frowning. She hobbled back a couple steps, and shifted her gaze to Sherlock.

"What do you think? The electricity or the acid?"

"I'm going to say electricity," Sherlock said, narrowing his eyes as he watched her across the parking garage. It was a guess, of course, but he hoped a well educated one.

A little miffed, however, considering he was attempting to hoard the electricity for himself.