![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Tonight we're taking over, no one's getting out
Who| Courfeyrac / Everyone
What| Courfeyrac sets off a series of explosives and the museum has to be evacuated
Where| Across the Arena. The fourth floor will get the brunt of the explosion, however the entire Arena will become uninhabitable by the conclusion of this log (which is set for Tuesday.)
When| Week 07, Monday.
Warnings/Notes| Shawty fire burning on the dance floor. Also there's a header for each floor of the building to react to the rock a-fire explosion. Feel free to make your own threads under each floor header, tag around, etc. The mods will post a follow-up log tomorrow!
He was alone again, naturally, and a lonely Courfeyrac was a destructive and dangerous Courfeyrac. He had three kills under his belt now and not an ally left in the Arena. He had a loaded .38, a box of bullets, two days worth of food, a mouthful of cheap wine, a firestarting kit, three first aid kits, and the precise knowledge of where X5-452 had rigged the explosives on the fourth floor.
He wanted to get out. He wanted to go home. And as far as he could determine, the best way to end the Arena was to set the damn thing on fire.
Not caring much for himself anymore, he decided to use his own clothing and tent as tinder, ripping up the fabric into manageable strips. His plan was to set the strips on fire, using the alcohol from the first aid kits he'd accumulated and toss them throughout the exhibits on the floor until he reached the remains of his barricade. He would then pitch a flaming, rag stuffed wine bottle at the pre-set explosives to set off the chain reaction. His only reservations involved having enough time to run to the stairwell before the whole floor erupted into flames.
An old song sprang to mind as he set about at his task of sprinting across the floor, pitching flaming strips of fabric at any exhibit which looked like it might catch fire. It was something he'd forgotten, a song from his childhood, and it seemed strangely fitting. "Au bout de cinq à six semaines, au bout de cinq à six semaines! Les vivres vin-vin-vinrent à manquer, les vivres vin-vin-vinrent à manquer!" He started out singing quietly to himself, voice echoing more boldly as he dashed ran through the halls. "Ohé! Ohé!"
If anyone heard him, he did not care. Courfeyrac was a man on a mission and he would not be stopped.
With no time to lose, he returned to the mass of fossils which had been his home for six weeks. "Il fait au ciel une prière, il fait au ciel une prière." He struck a match, lit the rag, threw the bottle, and sprinted into the stairwell heading down. Not seconds later, the entire building seemed to shake and the fourth floor was engulfed in flames.
What| Courfeyrac sets off a series of explosives and the museum has to be evacuated
Where| Across the Arena. The fourth floor will get the brunt of the explosion, however the entire Arena will become uninhabitable by the conclusion of this log (which is set for Tuesday.)
When| Week 07, Monday.
Warnings/Notes| Shawty fire burning on the dance floor. Also there's a header for each floor of the building to react to the rock a-fire explosion. Feel free to make your own threads under each floor header, tag around, etc. The mods will post a follow-up log tomorrow!
He was alone again, naturally, and a lonely Courfeyrac was a destructive and dangerous Courfeyrac. He had three kills under his belt now and not an ally left in the Arena. He had a loaded .38, a box of bullets, two days worth of food, a mouthful of cheap wine, a firestarting kit, three first aid kits, and the precise knowledge of where X5-452 had rigged the explosives on the fourth floor.
He wanted to get out. He wanted to go home. And as far as he could determine, the best way to end the Arena was to set the damn thing on fire.
Not caring much for himself anymore, he decided to use his own clothing and tent as tinder, ripping up the fabric into manageable strips. His plan was to set the strips on fire, using the alcohol from the first aid kits he'd accumulated and toss them throughout the exhibits on the floor until he reached the remains of his barricade. He would then pitch a flaming, rag stuffed wine bottle at the pre-set explosives to set off the chain reaction. His only reservations involved having enough time to run to the stairwell before the whole floor erupted into flames.
An old song sprang to mind as he set about at his task of sprinting across the floor, pitching flaming strips of fabric at any exhibit which looked like it might catch fire. It was something he'd forgotten, a song from his childhood, and it seemed strangely fitting. "Au bout de cinq à six semaines, au bout de cinq à six semaines! Les vivres vin-vin-vinrent à manquer, les vivres vin-vin-vinrent à manquer!" He started out singing quietly to himself, voice echoing more boldly as he dashed ran through the halls. "Ohé! Ohé!"
If anyone heard him, he did not care. Courfeyrac was a man on a mission and he would not be stopped.
With no time to lose, he returned to the mass of fossils which had been his home for six weeks. "Il fait au ciel une prière, il fait au ciel une prière." He struck a match, lit the rag, threw the bottle, and sprinted into the stairwell heading down. Not seconds later, the entire building seemed to shake and the fourth floor was engulfed in flames.
6th Floor
5th Floor
4th Floor
For CBSherlock
She has her grenade lying in her pocket still. She may yet have time to use it. There'll be water if god wills it.
There's a figure in front of her, identity indistinguishable in the smoke and flame. "Bert?" she calls out weakly.
no subject
He turns around abruptly, sees her and winces-- he can't leave, now.
"I'm afraid not," he says out loud, voice muffled by his hand.
no subject
no subject
"We'll have to take the elevator." Not quite sure when it became "we," Sherlock leans down to offer the woman a hand just as the alarms sound and a rain of acidic foam rains down.
no subject
The resulting explosion is enough to take them both out of the game.
3rd Floor
2nd Floor
no subject
1st Floor
Basement
Re: Basement
She was thankful for Hawkeye though. He'd made her able to move and when she could do that she could keep going, whether on full adrenaline or spacing out spurts of energy. There were times to rest and a time to be wary of every living fucking sound around her. There was no mistakes she could make now: one bad move meant this would be all over. As it was, there were now much fewer places to hide. Anything above the first floor, in her opinion, was a death trap. She barely managed to get out of the second floor.
Mindy sighed, taking out some of the water saved, gulping a little of it down. Her throat felt raw and exposed, like she'd been screaming. The only recognizable part of her pajamas was the panda head, which looked like nothing more than a tattered cowl. She had knife in one hand and gun at her hip happy she had at least rigged a holster with some rope. She was low to the ground, dirty as fuck and of course, bleeding.
But she was alive and that was most important.