thearena | But In All Chaos, There Is Calculation [Closed]

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But In All Chaos, There Is Calculation [Closed]

WHO| Venus and Mouse, Venus and Jean and Kankri
WHERE| Anywhere in the museum
WHEN| Towards the end of week 3
WHAT| Venus tries to accelerate the end of the Arena by killing off strangers.
WARNINGS| Death, mental illness (dissociative), some description of gore

Venus doesn't have time to feel alone. Or rather, she has all the time in the world, but she's moving too slowly to hold on to the back of such a powerful emotion. Time sprawls out in languid hours tucked into the minutes before her. Everything is slow motion, especially her.

She's well-aware she looks like a monster from a horror movie now. The slash across her face is blood-crusted, purple and pink with unhealed gore. Her limp is impossible to hide, but the worst part is how disconnected she is. When she looks in the mirror, it's as if she's inside herself behind glass. There's a deadness in her eyes of someone not quite attached to the mortal plane at the moment.

The waterways of her mind whip and twist through rapids and eddies, pool in swamps and mires, plunges over waterfalls she never reaches the bottoms of. Knowing she isn't okay isn't enough to pull her back to the surface.

But she's aware that the only way to get her medicine is to kill for it, and she knows the only way to keep Kankri safe is to guide him. It's with the twin aims of murder and rescue that she ventures deep into the organs of the museum, dressed in hot pink sweatpants from the giftshop and a sweater with the her own name emblazoned over the front. She'd have to be dead to forget how to brand herself.

She thinks she agonizes more over the act of killing now that she's sick than she ever did while stable. The knife is heavy in her hand. Kankri's absence is a void at her side. She only wants to push past her bodily constraints long enough to ensure a victory for someone worthwhile, and then she can figure it out from there.

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Food. Food had suddenly become an issue. Not that it hadn't, technically speaking, been one while camping in the planetarium. But Mouse was used to getting by on little or less, so the few supplies they had had done fine. More than fine, really, so used to he was the lumpy glump on the Neb that stale pastries and gallons of sugar had been nothing short of Christmas dinner.

Now? Now he was remembering how much it blew to not have a home base. It meant not having a supplies stash, just carrying everything all the time. Not, in all honesty, that any of the food he had stumbled across recently seemed that appealing at the moment. Ever since that last tussle he was feeling...odd.

As he made his way to the gift store, Mouse tried to shake the feeling. Dude had probably given him some horrible super flu with that bite. Just what he needed in this place.

Maybe, if Venus could see Mouse and the state he's in, a bit wobbly and pale, she'd believe she was doing him a favor. In truth, she can't tell what he looks like, only that he isn't one of her allies, so her motivation can't be shrouded in the delusion of nobility.

She's on the second floor landing when Mouse heads down the stairwell looking for the door to the floor with the giftshop. Someone died in the elevator earlier, and the corpse-cleaning robot got stranded after the lift left without it. Venus has been killing time sitting with it, poking at it and watching it whirr around and bump into walls, letting it examine the leg that she's cast across the edge of the stairs so it doesn't fall.

She lets it keep whirring when she hears the footsteps. The sound of the robot will cover the steps she takes to crouch in wait, to drag her injured leg out of the light and into the dry darkness here.

He hears the whirling, but doesn't think much of it. It seemed to be getting progressively harder to think of much of anything outside of his stomach, actually. Something he would have spent more time and worry on if, again, there wasn't the hunger issue. He doesn't even know what he's craving, just hopes the gift shop will have it.

He pauses just outside the stairway door as he reached the floor, rolling one oddly stiff shoulder than the other as he tries- and fails- to focus up.

Man, he hates this place a little more every moment.

The robot stops for a moment, having found nothing.

She holds her breath, and the cloak of darkness in the stairwell falls like a curtain between them. She's so close she can hear him breathing. She can hear the pop in his shoulder when he rolls it. Can see the only light, shining from two floors above, glinting off the sclera of his eye.

That's when she moves. A whuff of air escapes her lungs as she bends over and grabs the robot, and she twists as if hoisting a gigantic discus at Mouse's face, with enough force to smash in a car window.

He tried to get a What? out. He really did. But the combination of no time and the growing reluctance of his vocal cords to make words today cut it off totally. So there were no dramatic last words, no grand posturing or tell them I said something!. There was just a short, cut off gasp as the machine made contact.

And Mouse hit the ground, head bouncing against the unforgiving surface.

It's not enough. Without a cannon to signal when she can stop, Venus has to certify that Mouse is dead. That he isn't going to wake to a hell of broken bones and brain damage.

She lifts the robot over her head and brings it down again and again and again, until blood and bits of bone spatter the stairs and dribble down the rails. The splintering and smacking sounds echo up the stairwell like yells inside a throat.

When she's done, she's covered in gore. She sets the robot aside, taking a deep breath. Mouse's head is a splatter with a a hemisphere or bone lolling against the floor. She doesn't have eyes to close.

She takes off her hoodie. She drapes it over him and straightens it, pats him.

"Wake up in the Capitol, man." She presses a button on the robot and it starts to clear up the mess.

Edited 2014-02-11 22:48 (UTC)

Killing, unless necessary, is not on his agenda. There is no way he can win this game without killing -- he's not that naive, he thinks -- but there's a small chance of him surviving this game at all in the first place. Not with this injury. Not with things like "aliens" and titans roaming the place. Not when he absolutely refuses to kill Eren or Armin, because if the games have to happen multiple times he'd rather get through them without betraying his comrades on the first round.

With only a knife in his hand, he feels totally unarmed. But when he spots Venus and notices the knife in hers, he tenses his body and raises his weapon defensively. She's probably seen him already, and there's nowhere to run in this room.

She's surprised to actually find someone on their own. Almost everyone has gone into a good place to hole up, only emerging when they have allies. To find an injured straggler goes against what she's seen thus far.

"I'll put down my knife if you put down yours," she says. They're both injured, but she trusts her combat skills. She doesn't know his, doesn't recognize him from the last Arena, and dredges up only a memory of his network post. He's military, so it does occur to her that this may be a mistake on her part.

She holds her knife out and drops it to the ground, signalling the honesty of her intent.

He watches her drop the knife and lowers his own as well, letting go of the handle, tossing it aside and stepping away from it immediately.

"... You're Venus. Right?"

He stays far enough away from her but steps closer, still tensed.

"Yes, Jean. Venus Dee Milo." She isn't repeating her name so much for him as for when this all gets edited into a highlight reel later. She kicks her knife aside with her bad leg (so the weight goes on the good one) and saunters forward.

"We're both a little rough for the wear, aren't we?" She tilts her head in a congenial manner, but her eyes are ice cold as she sizes him up, takes in his stance, waits until he's far enough from the knife-

-and then lunges forward, stepping with her foot and twisting to throw a roundhouse kick as his head.

That's a quick attack, but not one he can't follow. He drops down immediately, ducking to avoid the blow to his head and bracing himself as he kicks out, at her other foot, to knock it out from under her.

Her ankle's whipped out from under her and she falls forward, landing on her hands. A twinge runs up both wrists, but she uses her upper body strength and rolls forward onto her shoulder and throw her other foot up at his neck.

He throws himself to the left this time, but jerks in a direction he didn't intend to when he feels something tear and warmth gush toward his side. He must've torn the stitches. He manages to dodge most of the kick, but her foot lands on his shoulder and he spins back trying to catch his balance, eventually coming to a wobbly halt a couple feet back, hands raised defensively.

She's surprised when she sees blood, and for an instant assumes it's hers. Her hand comes to her face, feeling the stitches she has there - but no, it's his. He's more injured than she thought.

And yet she doesn't relent. She gets her feet under her and, while he's still catching his balance, lunges for him again, tackling like she's a football player in a smaller body.

That does it. He has no time or the strength in his feet as blood rapidly rushes to his wound to dodge, and he catches her but that causes his side to bleed some more. He's unable to throw her off, and he tumbles to the ground onto his back, trying still to wrestle her off.

She pummels at his face, until between the two of them a viewer would be hard-pressed to decide who's more beaten up. She grabs his collar and slams him back against the ground, even as his struggling rips over her own stitches and paves the way for ugly bruises. Then she grabs her flashlight.

It's heavy, laden with batteries, made of metal. It's better as a club than it is for light. She raises it above her head and brings it down like a hammer.

That looks like a blow he wants to avoid. He jerks to the side again, blinking away stars from his initial contact with the ground. The flashlight crashes into the floor by his ear, the sound deafening at close proximity, and he tries to kick at her again. If he gets hit by that too many times he's not going to last.

"Ah!" The flashlight almost falls from her hands as the weight of it cracks her knuckles against the ground. She takes the hit to the gut but steadies herself, refusing to let him shove her off him.

"Just die!" She strikes again with the flashlight, this time to the neck.

That's not an order he can accept. Not on the menu. Definitely not. But a blow to the neck is harder to avoid. Impossible, really, pinned down the way he is, and he's hit by hard metal and excruciating pain, breath catching in his throat as he falls into a fit of coughs.

He's struggled hard enough that she can feel breathlessness getting to her. The world smears across her vision, receding into darkness in the corners. Were she in perfect health, she'd just be winded, but with her broken ribs she can't draw in enough oxygen.

If this goes on much longer, or if he gets another hit in, she just may pass out.

She's tell him that it'll hurt less if he stays still, but she can't find the air for that, so she just brings the flashlight down again and again and again, until she keels over to the side and lays on her back, barely conscious and trying to breathe.

With his established hiding spot gone, Kankri's been trying to keep on the move ever since. Carrying all his possessions for survival with him is heavier, even splitting the load with Signless, and they usually split up until evening anyway so they have a better chance of finding enough to sustain both of them. He feels entirely alone and vulnerable and he's just so tired.

With a sigh, he tucks himself into a stairwell out of sight so he can rest a few minutes. He fumbles out a water bottle and sips from it sparingly.

On the whole, Kevin is feeling pretty okay.

Sure, he's got a few lumps and bumps, but that's life, isn't it? He's cheerful as can be as he rounds the corner into the stairwell, humming a chipper little tune to himself and swinging his katar merrily back and forth -

And then he stops, spotting someone crouched nearby.

He blinks, familiarity registering at the sight of the horns, the gray skin.

Honey and butterflies lilt on his tone when he calls out. "Hello! I think I've seen you, right? I didn't get to say hello last time!"

Without hesitation, he's approaching, ambling at a slow, easy pace.

That voice is familiar and sickening. It makes Kankri startle, slopping a little bit of water onto his sweater. Frantically he caps the bottle, shoving it back into his bag before he stumbles up and back, regarding Kevin with wide eyes. He clutches his crowbar in front of him as if it can ward off the human.

"S-stay away," he says frantically. He has to make it to the door. If he can just make it out onto the floor he can escape. "Don't come any clos-ah!"

He trips on a step and falls back across the stairs.

On the whole, Kevin is pretty oblivious to people's discomfort or fright...but when he's told, ORDERED in the negative, it gives him pause. He does actually stop for a second - until Kankri falls, and then he's advancing again, still grinning but brows knitted together a little in an incongruous expression.

"Are you okay?"

He's padding up the stairs, leaning forward a little, oh so concerned....

His expression looks wrong. Everything about him is wrong. Kankri tries to get back up while still facing him and trips again.

"Please," he says, "just leave me alone. I don't want to hurt anyone, or be hurt, or any of that."

Kankri knows it's unlikely that Kevin will listen, of course. He knows it's unlikely anyone would. But it's still the first thing he can think of to do in this moment, is try to talk it out. He swings out the crowbar a couple times in a warding-off gesture, but the movement is weak and clumsy, and he's obviously not used to it.

"Hurt?"

Kevin just keeps coming closer, completely ignoring the crowbar initially but stopping just beyond hitting distance. "Gosh, why do you think I'm going to hurt you? And you definitely don't have to hurt me!"

Does he really not understand the point of all this?

Or is it a ploy?

His eyes are impossible to read.

"Because I saw what you did to Venus," he hisses, his eyes narrowing in anger. Does this man think he's completely oblivious? "And I don't want you anywhere near me."

He tries again to get up, this time glancing down to be more sure of his footing.

"Oh, Venus? But she was so much fun!"

It's steadily becoming clear that this guy isn't much for being friendly right now - and if he isn't going to be friendly, NOR does he want to play, then that's counterproductive to the task they have all been given.

And that won't do.

"Well, I am sorry about that," Kevin chuckles, tone suddenly businesslike. His grip on the katar shifts and so does his footing. Offense.

"But I've got a job to do here, just like you do. And if you won't do it...I guess it's up to me."

Kankri sees how his posture shifts, how he's getting ready to spring, like a predatory cat about to pounce. Instinct, honed through a sweep and a half of running to hide behind Porrim if nothing else, drives him to turn and sprint for the door. His hands fumble desperately at the knob, just for a moment but long enough to delay him enough for Kevin to catch up just as he opens the door.

Sure enough, that pause is enough time for Kevin - swift-footed as he is - to close the gap, reaching out with his free hand to nab a fistful of Kankri's hair.

"Ah ah ah! No quitting early!" His voice was a bright chirp as he yanked on the hair, pulling back, down the stairs, away from the door....

The crowbar clatters to the floor, just outside the stairwell, out of his reach. Kankri lets out a shriek of pain as he's pulled back, away from the door swinging open. Desperately he drives an elbow back, trying to dislodge his attacker with a jab against his torso.

"Get- off of me!" he yells, his voice cracking from his utter terror.

Kevin had largely forgotten that he had broken ribs - until, of course, they were jabbed at. He let out a sound halfway between giggle and yelp, releasing his grip on Kankri's hair and shoving him back.

Unfortunately for the troll, he was also now blocking the door, regaining his bearings and broadening his grin.

"Isn't this fun?"

"No!" Kankri hisses in reply. "It's not."

He crouches much like a cornered animal, watching Kevin closely, hoping beyond hope that he'll leave some kind of opening for Kankri to escape.

"Such a kidder!"

With only a moment to gather himself, Kevin actually jumps up into the air, coming down in a wild, animal pounce with his katar aimed downward to stab -

Reckless. Easily sidestepped, but...not a lot of concern for his own well-being, either.

Edited 2014-02-16 08:28 (UTC)

Kankri throws himself to the side just a little too late. The blade misses anything vital, but it bites hard into his side. The tough scars from his grub legs keep it from going in too far and make it stick where it is, but the clusters of nerves under the scarring mean it still hurts like hell.

Kankri cries out in pain again, slashing at Kevin's hand with his claws - normally he keeps them filed down, but he hasn't had a chance to in weeks - and trying to get him to let go of the dagger lodged firmly in his side.

She arrives a second too late to spare Kankri from bloodshed. Her footsteps make crashing noises on the stairs as she sprints down to him. The dark of the stairwell makes her seem like a masked vigilante swooping in from on high, the bottom of her face wound looking like it's outlining the mask of Zorro.

She slams into Kevin with force she can only muster because she isn't worried about her own footing. There's a slapping thump noise as their bodies collide, and then grunts and thuds as they both tumble down the stairs to the next landing, where Venus, at least, lies on her side trying to pull air into her caved-in chest.

Kevin giggles as Kankri swipes at his hand - it's partially guarded by the hilt of his katar, and what gets through mostly just...tickles, really. Still, he hardly has the time to think about how much fun all of this is when he's suddenly bowled over, tumbling with Venus down the stairs, katar still clutched in his hand. His wrist is sprained, his ribs are aggravated...and for once, he is unable to speak for a moment, gasping for breath. He doesn't get up.

And then those gasps turn short.

And then they turn into laughter. Short, frantic giggles.

His voice comes out in a high croak.

"Oh...! H...i, Venus...! Gee, that was...nngh...fun...."

Edited 2014-02-20 06:54 (UTC)

Kankri lets out another little shriek as the blade is ripped from his side. It doesn't bleed much, at least, but it still hurts like anything.

Still, with both of them tumbling down the stairs, that gives him time to scramble back and up the stairs again, pressing a hand to his wound and gasping for breath.

"Playdate's over, asshole!" Venus thrusts the words from her throat rather than her chest, and it sounds somewhat less impressive than she hoped. She throws another punch at Kevin's chest, and though it's weak she hopes it's enough to slow him down. The she rolls onto her side and scrambles on all fours for the door.

She sees a spray of red blood on the stairs and prays it's hers.

"Kankri-" she manages, although she doesn't want to tell him to meet her somewhere in case Kevin follows them. Then the effort of talking and moving at the same time is too much, and she makes it out the stairwell door, slamming it behind her.

The force of the punch makes something in his chest crack. a weird gasp breaking from his throat and echoing through the stairwell. Perhaps surprisingly, he doesn't get up - he remains there on the ground, grinning up at his retreating "friends." They're fun to watch from this angle, he thinks to himself, dark eyes wide and almost...mad?

Well, would madness be surprising? Such a fine line between madness and happiness, really.

Venus is gone in a flash, and now he's just staring up at Kankri...grinning, grinning, grinning.

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But In All Chaos, There Is Calculation [Closed]

MOUSE

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KEVIN AND KANKRI

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