thearena | [Closed] If I go, you go.

Who| Perry (

justgaveup) and Albert (

silberfuchs)
What| Death and destruction of property
Where| The gift shop, so second floor
When| Very end of week five
Warnings/Notes| Did you want to go to the gift shop? Whoops. Also death and blowing up.

Each week got progressively worse. The knowing, as he'd told Mindy, was the hardest part. Knowing that you could die any day, knowing that you were one step closer to victory with every death you heard about on the loudspeaker. Waiting to hear friend's names called out. Casual acquaintances called out. Any name called out.

When he was in the last arena, he hadn't had time to think about it. First you fought a bunch of monsters in a neighborhood filled with people you didn't know, in a country you didn't know anything about. And then you were thrown into an arena, and told to kill other people to survive. So you did.

All Perry had done last time was pull the jaw off a zombie, then died soon after. This time, he'd talked to people. Sort of made friends. And definitely killed two people with a trap he laid specifically to kill people with. Where do you go after that? What do you do?

Hide out with your crowbar, food, and knives in a tacky gift shop. Seemed appropriate enough. Lying in wait, and wondering why the hell he was even trying to survive.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Perry knew it. He knew the names. Cringing when he heard them over the speaker. Knowing that he had killed them. When he looked at his scores, the death totals he had since arriving here, there would be two new names on that list.

He hoped none of them were from his district. "I heard it." Perry blew out some air. He had a trick up his sleeve, but he knew... this was going to be it.

"Sorry, but I don't believe in god." Perry stood up slowly, taking care for his ribs. "And I know it's not. But I'm not just going to stand here and let it happen without a fight."

At that, he quickly threw the two knives he had in each hand. He was good, and fast with a knife, and one went to his leg, and the other was thrown to his arm. Perry wanted to injure him in a way that made it impossible for him to blow this place, and Perry, up, without taking him down with it.

Albert figured his opponent was going to try something and soon as the situation grew more desperate and escape less likely. The knife thrown at his arm Albert avoids easily, shifting to his right. The one in his leg he doesn't bother, taking the blow with a grunt and simply pulling the blade out of the meaty part of his thigh where it had landed, uncaring of the crimson stain that starts to spread over the wound. He'll need his hand to light the firework. His leg not so much. he doesn't have to be mobile when they're already in such tight quarters.

"You've got a good arm," if Albert meant to come out of this alive, he might be worried. Instead he just starts to walk forward slowly, stiffly because of the leg injury. "Not that it'll do you much good. Not now."

Putting the firework between his teeth, Albert strikes the flint against the edge of the knife blade, causing sparks and lighting the long, slow-burning fuse at the end of the explosive. He drops the knife and flint and holds the roman candle so Perry can see. "We're on a much shorter timer now."

There's something freeing about all this, something that makes Albert half want to run scared from himself. But it doesn't matter, or at least it won't matter much longer. He'll avenge his friends and then he'll be done. Neat and tidy. Well, figuratively speaking.

Well. He did accomplish what he wanted. Neither of them were getting out of here alive. He found himself wishing that he could have gotten farther, but maybe this was going to be better. Going out with a bang. Literally. He flinched, cringing at a terrible joke in his mind. That should not be his last thought.

Perry wanted to know when he was going to die, not be surprised by it. But looking at a countdown was terrifying. He's scared. Coming to the realization that you're scared is scary.

"What's the first thing you're going to do when you see your friends again?" The words come out as a croak as he stares wide eye at the bright fuse. "What's your name?"

The first question he doesn't answer. If religion is to be believed, suicides don't go to Heaven. And if its not, well... then death is the end regardless.

Albert stops walking at the edge of what little barricade Perry's managed to take shelter behind, strangely calm for all the violent death that will be visited upon the both of them in a few moments. "Heinrich. Albert Heinrich. Not that it will matter much longer, but what's yours?"

He knew the second he asked that he shouldn't have. That makes this murderer cowering in the recesses of the gift shop an actual person, someone who's frightened and dealing with the same shit hand that everyone in this god forsaken place has been dealt. It makes Albert feel guilty for what he's about to do.

But he already feels guilt for so much, what's another drop in the bucket?

No religion here. Perry knew that when they died, they wouldn't get a chance to think about religion. Hell or Heaven, didn't matter. Because the only thing that happened when you died here, was you got brought back to life out there. So he really did have to think: What was the first thing you were going to say to your friends?

"Perry Kelvin." He said simply, still looking at the fuse. It kept getting shorter and shorter, and he had to decide right then if he wanted to keep his eyes open, or close them.

"Nice to meet you." Perry had died the first time with his eyes open, and the second as well. Time to continue the trend.

No response. What do you say to that when you know you're both going to die? Moreover when you wish the one who said it had never cleaved their way into your life at all. Cleaved their way through the lives of others, people more important to you than your own life.

What do you say when you're facing down the person you're going to murder in cold blood?

There's nothing to say. And it's too late regardless.

Another moment filled only with the sound of the pounding rain outside and then everything goes white as the fuse burns out in Albert's hand.

[Closed] If I go, you go.

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I couldn't think of how to stretch it any further, sorry x.x;