thearena | (no subject)

Who| Mouse and you! Particularly R, Max, and others who wanted to beat on him
What| Post planetarium blowing up, a shocked Mouse goes exploring
Where| All over the place. Just start where ever works for you!
When| All this week, up until his death in Venus' post
Warnings/Notes| Violence

It'd been too good to last. Same old story of his life, really. Even the old Neb never stayed in one place for long, always shoving off to the next great threat, faces on board changing between fights. In a place even more centered on violence for violence sake, he really wasn't shocked-

Ugh. Mouse have a sharp head shake at that mental slip. Shocked. So not where he needed his brain space now, not after how the planetarium- Punchy in particular- had gone the way of the dodo. So, no. He wasn't sho- ah, surprised, it had come to an end. But he was still shaken from the suddenness. Call it the surrealness catching up to him.

So he wasn't exactly at his best as he crept through the corridors, opting to slip through stairways than take the elevators as he really got a fresh look at the place. Scoping out new hiding spots, finding the food.

And, with his luck, stumbling on the more inhospitable residents of the area.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

R reacted like anyone who got punched in the stomach - he folded over with a surprised whuff of air, the crowbar sent skittering away and into the shadows before he even remembered he was supposed to hold onto it. To his surprise, he actually had trouble breathing, his pants hoarse, ragged.

This never would've happened if he was full-dead. Actually, he would've sank his teeth into the kid's throat by now.

R grabbed blindly at Mouse, trying to drag him closer, down to the floor. He didn't understand the finesse of fighting or Survival 101 - what he did know was how to bring down prey and that meant holding on with a death grip. Pulling toward him. No idea if this Tribute had a knife somewhere or he had buddies. R tangled his hand in what felt like a shirt, dropping his weight down and hoping it'd be harder to get nailed in the gut a second time around.

Use your teeth.

That was the next logical step. It was his only weapon, the one thing he knew he was good at. R resisted the urge, grunting as he tried to get Mouse's struggling under control.

"Shit, shit, shit."

Mouse really wished he could think of a more dramatic statement than that- if people were to believed he was on candid camera right now and all- but sharp wit was a lot easier to keep up in a life and death struggle in the movies than reality (or the Matrix). So rather than using what little air he had won to say some memorable last words, Mouse could only chant the curse like a mantra as he went back down to the ground, blindly kicking out in the meantime.

The kick hammers him in the thigh, R grunting as he tries to wrestle this Tribute into control. There's a vague impression that he's losing control. Mostly there's that urge suddenly resurfacing with a vengeance telling him he knows what to do. That he's not totally defenseless. R lashes out without aiming, without registering he's snarling.

He sinks his teeth into the nearest body part. It's more of a flail than calculated strike, desperate in a different way compared to a zombie's.

"Are you kidding?"

It wasn't snappy, but it was all he could think to say- hell, all he could think at all- as the teeth sunk in. That was more than painful, more than terrifying, it was disgusting. Which is why a note of hysteria had entered the usually flippant voice as he re-doubled his efforts to escape the grapple.

Does he look like he's kidding? It's a losing fight to hold on, R's mouth ripping free as the kid jerks his arm away. If he'd been a proper zombie, he would've been lunging for seconds, probably would've teethed his way to a major artery. Now he's struggling to control which arms are going where, the kid squirming like a damn fish or something. It's only a matter of time before Mouse is able to wriggle his way to freedom, trying to scrabble after him with his mouth caked in the other Tribute's blood.

And the second he's free, Mouse is done with this battle to the death business. Hell, he's done with the battle to anything game. This guy was coming after him with Mouse's own blood on the other man's teeth. Mouse had not signed up for these games, but he had especially not signed up for this. So he's outright sprinting in the other direction, crowbar and the rest left behind, the moment he's able.

With any luck, the pure sugar diet of the past week can at least let him out run the other man in the short term.

Another Arena and that might not have worked - he would've had a zombie staggering after him sniffing out that blood trail like it's a "come finish me off" sign.

Now, though, it's enough.

R lets Mouse go as he spits out the mouthful of blood and wishes he didn't have that little voice inside wishing he'd gotten a bigger bite. Wiping at his chin, he turns to collect his prize...and this time he remembers to look over his shoulders, check both ways for any Tributes with the same idea.

(no subject)

Mind if R panic-bites?

Go for it!

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