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Who| Joly and Zoidberg
What| Joly's going on a little adventure. Turns out that wasn't such a great idea. Sorry, Joly. An attempt was made.
Where| The Planetarium
When| Thursday
Warnings/Notes| Character death herein.

After a few days of simply staying safe behind their barricade,it was clear to Joly that something, anything must be done, and done by him. He had been close to Hell to live with with the bout of weather outside, had become convinced that they were all going to develop some horrible disease injected into the arena as a punishment for hanging back and staying still, and his mind was working full force on conspiracy theories. He had also, truth be told, started feeling a bit like dead weight around their camp, pardon the horrible phrasing there, but at least he'd not said it out loud.

At any rate, when it was time to scavenge and forage again, he was the one to offer to go. After all, one had to experience the rest of the arena sometime if they wanted any chance at all of strategy, did they not? Eventually, he found himself approaching the planetarium, which had sounded curious enough that he must see it for himself, while he had the chance. Of course, poking his head in as he tried to see what was going on was probably not quite the best choice possible, but he had done that anyway, and now stood, peering around, trying to readjust his eyes to the darkness a little before stepping in to have a look around for himself.

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The once happy planetarium had become a somber death trap for Carlos and his band of scientists, with electrical storms surging and the most of the poor Tributes being fried up like frog legs. Zoidberg, in his infinite wisdom had somehow managed to evade death for another day, but he was left to pick up the pieces and mourn the loss of the truest and most noble scientific minds of the Arena.

He'd returned to the scene of the accident bent on paying his respects and praying to the Space Pope to ferry their souls across the river to New Jersey, as was customary. He was kneeling at an altar, which was actually a small model of the planet Neptune, when he heard footsteps at the entrance to the grand room. Panicking, he scuttled quickly to the wall to press himself against the shadows and hide.

Eyes narrowing, he thought he could make out the silhouette of a human in the darkness. Wait. Was it a human? Or was it Zeus, returned to the planetarium to seek revenge and murder him as well? With fear in his heart, he slinked against the wall and waited.

It seemed to be perfectly quiet, so Joly found himself advancing into the room, listening for the sound of, well, anything out of the ordinary. Whatever the ordinary was here. At any rate, he did not hear anything that sounded human, so he assumed that perhaps it was meant to be here.

It was only too easy to step a little closer in, because, truly, nothing at all could go wrong here. At the moment, Joly was only too eager to step closer towards some of what looked to be equipment. Might there be something to help them here?

Fear struck at the very core of the crab man, freezing him dead in his tracks. This strange invader would surely be out for revenge of some kind. For what? No one could say, but it terrified Zoidberg anyway.

Claws at the ready, he lurked in the darkness, prepared to defend himself and the remains of the planetarium with his feeble little life.

What precisely was this model he was closest to? A planetary body, surely, Joly thought, advancing toward what appeared to be a model of Neptune, which he brushed a hand against curiously, in the matter of all who are a bit too nosy for their own good.

There was a bit of a plaque there too, upon which was presented some information and a date of 1821 that he should recognize, then, "Oh. YOU." he told the planet as if that meant something. "Galileo's fixed star and the very reason Uranus is so perturbed. A result, of course, which generations of schoolboys have interjected their own immature theories of, I quite imagine. But come then, Neptune, have you any trident? I should think as weapons go, that may be useful to us now, particularly if you should see fit to divinely endow it."

Divinely endowed. Perturbing Uranus.

"Perhaps I venture far too near bottoming out myself." Joly mused, very glad he was alone just now. "But as I seem to be alone here, at least no more need be offended, I should hope."

Zoidberg couldn't contain himself any longer. The adrenaline in his veins was combining with his other physiology in a way which caused him no small amount of anguish and rage. He was preparing to put forth a very masculine display, if only because he wished to establish himself as a dominant male, in the memory of his fallen friends.

"How dare you bottom yourself out near my divinely endowed anus in such a presumptuous manner!"

From the darkness of the planetarium, his voice erupted like a shrieking banshee. Or, more accurately, like a frightened goat. Either way, it was a terrible noise, and Zoidberg was certain he had intimidated the intruder quite thoroughly!

If it was any other situation, Joly would have found this amusing, presenting the speaker with an apology as it was, and tried to smooth things over. As it was, knowing the way that things were likely to go? Of course, he could do no such thing, because he was in the Hunger Games, and he had just annoyed, no, more than annoyed someone with his commentary. The thing to do now, logically, was search about for some kind of a weapon, while presenting that he was no threat.

"Monsieur , I'd no idea that the anus in question had already been staked out, so to speak, nor that it was one belonging to you." He tried, disliking that voice immensely just now. And casting about for the being who might lay claim to two such globes as those in the display before him. "My presumption does proceed me, I apologize. I had thought but to admire. For they make a most shapely pair, do they not?"

Really, he ought have just shut up. But, well. Best laid plans.

The cleverness of the wordplay was all lost on poor Zoidberg. Instead, he presumed that this upsetting individual was insulting him! Commenting on his shapely pair? How dare he! It was enough to make a lobster want to snap at somebody!

"I never let anyone admire my anus! You'd have to buy me dinner first, in the very least!" What kind of crab did Joly take him for? "I've had enough of you cheese-eating surrender monkeys invading our great nation, with your hairy women and your poor hygiene! I mean, come on! They say I smell bad and I use a proper spermaceti deodorant everyday!"

It was at this point that Zoidberg revealed himself from the shadows. And he was a terrifying sight to see, with his jowls a-trembling and his head fin raised in a masculine display.

Edited 2014-02-10 19:48 (UTC)

Upsetting individuals? Now, really, Joly might have a thing to say about that if he took in the other's appearance more closely. As it was, he got a glimpse, which was fairly terrifying enough and froze as the lobster-man-person-thing approached.

"I did not presume to..." he began, then found himself simply gaping and starring instead. Oh Hell. Hell, HELL. He was losing his grip on logical thought processes here when actually met with someone from a world where people might look like this.

"Nique ta mere!" escaped his lips before Joly had the time again to realize that someone...thing who knew something of France would probably pick up that he had just told him fuck his mother. It was not even a phrase that crossed Joly's mind normally. This was simply. well.

He would have protested though that he bathed quite often enough for health if he'd been thinking more clearly though.

"Again with that gibberish!" Zoidberg cried out, claws snapping and snipping about. "I told you weirdos to speak English, like the rest of us normals!"

The language barrier was what finally sent him over the edge. Without further warning, he charged forward, barreling toward Joly with all of his mass and girth on the line. It was simply a matter of time before contact was made.

Ah, well. In this case? At least he did not know WHAT Joly had said. That was something, at least. "I...did not mean to be rude...monsieur?" he managed to choke out, feeling he might be polite and see if that got him anywhere. He doubted it a great deal though. "I did not...."

Joly took a step backward, rather quickly as Zoidberg advanced upon him there, and that rather made things rougher for him as he felt himself stumbling backwards, slowing his departure considerably, especially when one looked to the fact he continued to stumble, hitting the ground on something hard or other that he'd probably smashed.

"Oh God. Oh God." he muttered, panic setting in with his lungs already, though he still tried his best to scuttle backwards, rather like a crab, an irony, he thought, in some form of escape which would, of course, not be likely to come.

Zoidberg reached for his opponent, making to grab at him with extended and open claws. It was not an attempt to actually draw blood from the human, it was actually an attempt to shake some sense into him. Joly clearly needed that in spades.

"Excuses! Bah! Zoidberg has had enough of that!"

Sense WAS one of those things that Joly lacked at the moment, yes. He would have quite agreed with this monsieur...Zoidberg,if he wasn't flailing around trying to escape, much as he could. He was not going to beg to be spared, since that seemed counterproductive, but he WAS going to attempt some form of protection anyway.

At least, that was what Joly had intended to do. What resulted,instead, was a great deal of flailing around, exposing his throat, like an idiot towards those claws, without quite meaning to do so, himself.

Now, Zoidberg wasn't generally a violent man, but events had been set into motion that he simply could not put the breaks on. There was something primal that was set off in him, some deep rooted need to out-masculine the flailing and flopping and fleshy human before him. Without thinking anything of it, he reached out his claw toward that open and exposed neck, and with more carelessness than malice, he began to close said claw around it. Needless to say, his claw was extremely sharp.

Honestly at the moment, out masculining the current display was not going to be so hard. Joly was sort of extremely pathetic at the moment He liked to think that had he been kept at the barricade to die there, his death would have been a damn sight better, more stoic, or something. As it was, well, he was panicked in the face of the alien and unknown, and it was only a matter of seconds before there was a jet of scarlet coming up from under that sharp claw. And oh that HURT.

" 'M sorry." He found himself mumbling, not sure who he was apologizing to. Marius, for leaving him down a man? Cosette for taking away some needed protection? Courfeyrac for not being so careful as he ought? Enjolras in general, because Enjolras was probably actually seeing this and watching him die so embarrassingly? Either way, he didn't exactly finish the statement before he found that speaking, even breathing, was too hard. And oh, it hurt. But at least that pain was brief enough, he thought, as his eyes slid shut. That was some small mercy in all this anyway. If he was really meant to live again, he'd not feel this on waking up, would he?

Claw made contact with pink, supple flesh, and in that instant, Zoidberg came to his senses (what little he had) and flew into a panic. He released his hold on Joly and stared helplessly at the damage that he had just inflicted, crying out to merciful Zeus for no reason in particular. It was during this screeching and terrible shout that the lobster man recalled that he was a medical professional and that it was well within his capabilities to save this poor man from death!

"Hold on, friend!" He gurgled, cradling Joly to his bosom protectively. "I'm a doctor! I'll save you!"

What was...what? It was as if the crab man suddenly regretted this somehow, from that shriek and the cry to Zeus. And wait. He was a doctor too? This was...interesting. Joly was honestly not sure, what part of him that could focus on thinking about this, that, he wanted any kind of help from Zoidberg right now.

"Think...'s too late." he managed, and then tuned out of things completely again. It was too much effort right now as it was to even begin to try to live, or fight, or whatever this was. And well,for Marius at least, it was one less person that Cosette had to contend with, right?

"Nonsense!" Zoidberg cried, though he did not sound in any way convincing. "Just hold still and I'll paste your neck back together!"

Of course, there was no paste available for him to use, but that was of little import. What mattered most was his desire to do right by Joly and save him!

"Obviously that red stuff there is..." he trailed off, looking overly perplexed, all things considered. "Eh... blood?"

If any part of Joly was conscious at the moment, he might have tried to snort at the futility of that. Not that he would not, when he saw later footage of his death, appreciate the effort. It was more...humanity was not BUILT that way, so naturally that was not going to do much good.

The desire to do right by someone,even here, though ,was another matter, and, bizarre as it was, and as much as Joly might personally avoid the crab-man for the next several weeks...well, it would be a nice gesture.

For now, lifeblood streaming out of him, Joly slumped, unconscious, and could probably be manipulated any way that Zoidberg wished in order to facilitate possible healing anyway.

Clearly things were not going well for "doctor" and "patient". Zoidberg laid Joly onto the floor, hovering over him as he considered what he was supposed to do in order to save the poor human's life.

"Now, now, François. You know how to breathe, don't you? Just put your lips together and..." He did not finish his sentence, as he was too busy attempting mouth to mouth resuscitation.

Not especially well, by anyone's definition that Joly might be familiar with, that was true. The evidence of his breathing, really, was evidenced by that fainter with every moment gurgling of blood there. The lights were still on, perhaps, but Elvis had left the building, Zoidberg. Sorry about that.

And well, at that moment the resuscitation started, there was, at first, a slow rising of Joly's chest, though if left alone, he probably would not manage it.

Zoidberg continued to give Joly the slimy kiss of life, holding shut the man's nostrils with his handy mouth tentacles. It was truly a sight to behold, if only it weren't also terrible disgusting and ultimately futile. He breathed heavily into the human's mouth, slobbering as he did, pausing in his efforts only long enough to gasp for breath in a comical fashion.

"Dammit, François! Live, damn you! Live!"

It was, at least, not out of stubbornness that Joly did not breathe or manage any signs of life now, so that was something. It was also at least not of terror or disgust, as much as those might make for very...interesting reactions upon regaining anything like willpower here.

There was a moment, however false, that Joly moved with Zoidberg's...attentions... but the moment the other doctor paused for any sort of breath, he would likely discover a very sad truth indeed. At least he may thank him for the attempt, from a distance, of course, later.

It was after several long and agonizing minutes of fruitless maw on maw action that Zoidberg at last was forced to give up and face the music.

"Oh no! I've lost another one!" He dropped Joly's lifeless body unceremoniously onto the floor, shaking his claw at the heavens. "Damn you, vengeful Zeus!"

And with that heartfelt declaration, he rose to his feet and sadly began to scuttle away, realizing that he had probably not made a very good impression on Joly either way.

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