They were weapons, Guy had figured out that much. He wasn't sure what kind of weapons they were but if everyone was trying to get them they were clearly very good weapons and good weapons were a good thing to have.
He didn't want to have to kill anyone and that meant something powerful would be good for scaring them off or having a little more control over how he injured them, and if he did have to kill someone, he wanted it to be fast. Maybe these would be better about that than a spear.
Of course, there was the crowd to contend with. This was Guy's first arena where he'd had to deal with it since he'd missed the Cornucopia run of his first arena. The seething mass of fighting people was just as intimidating this time than it had been several weeks before, in the basement, and just like before, Guy couldn't stop himself from looking at it and thinking: What is the point of all this?
And just like before, he jumped in anyway. Survival was survival and whatever these were, maybe they'd help him and the other people he'd come to care about survive. The longer they all lived the more time they had to convince the audience they should be revived.
So once more into the breach he went, spear in hand, mostly using it to block blows or try to trip people. Only right when he was near the elevator, an errant elbow to the back of his head sent him sprawling into someone else, his spear held in a way that might make it look like he was trying to kill them.
For John Watson
He didn't want to have to kill anyone and that meant something powerful would be good for scaring them off or having a little more control over how he injured them, and if he did have to kill someone, he wanted it to be fast. Maybe these would be better about that than a spear.
Of course, there was the crowd to contend with. This was Guy's first arena where he'd had to deal with it since he'd missed the Cornucopia run of his first arena. The seething mass of fighting people was just as intimidating this time than it had been several weeks before, in the basement, and just like before, Guy couldn't stop himself from looking at it and thinking: What is the point of all this?
And just like before, he jumped in anyway. Survival was survival and whatever these were, maybe they'd help him and the other people he'd come to care about survive. The longer they all lived the more time they had to convince the audience they should be revived.
So once more into the breach he went, spear in hand, mostly using it to block blows or try to trip people. Only right when he was near the elevator, an errant elbow to the back of his head sent him sprawling into someone else, his spear held in a way that might make it look like he was trying to kill them.