thearena | week 1; open.

Entry tags:

week 1; open.

Who| Charles & YOU :)
What| Charles is attempting to get his bearings.
Where| Main street, through alleyways in between houses, moving towards the park.
When| Week 1.
Warnings/Notes| None as of yet.

Few things had gone right for Charles since he had arrived in this place. Upon arrival, his telepathy had completely vanished. There was a spot in his mind that he had compartmentalized for his ability, and now there was no use for it. It was dead silent. He couldn't remember a time before his skill. It was strange.

Then - of course - he was going to have to fight to the death with others who also happened to of been forced here. He didn't enjoy fighting, and even less liked the idea of having to kill another person. The memory of Erik killing Shaw was still fresh in his mind. He wouldn't want to inflict that upon another person.

Once in the arena, he had made it less than an hour before his jacket had gotten stolen and he got hit on the head with a rock. He reached his hand up to rub over the cut where a bump had formed. It was sore to the touch.

He was moving away from the main street, and through one of the alleyways between houses, but he wasn't sure what towards. The fog made seeing things difficult. He just had to make sure he stayed away from people, for now.

At least until he had a chance to form a plan without feeling like a few moments of downtime would result in death.

[ note; feel free to catch him at any point through the week, and anywhere between main street and the park ]

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The fog was so thick Rokk didn't even realise there was someone else nearby until he was practically on top of the other man. He'd been out alone scouting around the Legion's chosen base for supplies and looking to avoid any confrontations himself.

Still, whoever this was didn't look too dangerous, not with the way he was rubbing at his head and distinctly under-dressed for the climate so Cos felt secure enough to stop and try to strike up a conversation. But he also made sure the pickaxe obtained courtesy of Brainiac 5 was clearly visible where he held it, just to help discourage any thoughts the other might have towards attacking. He'd already had to defend himself once and regardless of the whole principle of the arena he was in no hurry to do so again.

"What happened to you? Did someone forget to make sure of the 'death' part of 'deathmatch'?"

If the stranger had no allies and had already fallen victim to another Tribute he hated the idea of not trying to help but that would be a little hard to fit to the whole supervillain image without some clear reason to do so. He'd just have to hope the other man was capable of looking after himself.

Charles was not about to pick a fight with someone - especially not a someone with a weapon. He took a step back, making sure to add a little space between them. Even though he didn't seem like he was about to kill him, he certainly didn't think that he couldn't be dangerous. Anyone could be dangerous, even the best of people.

"She wasn't trying to kill me," Charles answered, "that part was clear." If she had wanted to, or cared to, she easily could have. Considering he couldn't even really fight back when everything occurred.

"She wanted my jacket, that's all."

"Odd thing to be after." Rokk relaxed slightly with more distance between them - at least some of the other people forced into this were reasonable and not going to start taking shots at anyone who caught their eye - though he wasn't about the let his guard down entirely. The other tributes weren't the only threats about.

"So are you just passing through or should I assume you've set up base nearby?"

He was hoping the stranger had set up in one of the empty buildings. While it wasn't always bitterly cold when the temperature did drop being exposed without proper clothing wouldn't be advisable. He also wanted to know due to the simple fact that they weren't that far removed from the building Rokk's team had claimed. He'd like to have some idea as to what sort of neighbours they might have to worry about.

"Unusual, definitely," Charles answered. He recognized her voice, though. The same girl who had a rant all over about not being in the correct district. It didn't matter to him.

"Base might not be a good word to use," Charles clarified. He was squatting somewhere in the short term, but he kept moving. Base had that implication that he had intention to stay there for a bit of time. He couldn't afford to.

"I'm here for the short term."

"Fair enough." Well that was one less thing to worry about. Moving his team would be problematic given the current condition of the other two Legionnaires so it was reassuring not to have to worry about neighbours. Not that the stranger seemed particularly dangerous but people could put on a false front.

"Any idea why someone was after your jacket of all things?" He was curious why anyone would want to steal something they should have had themselves and the small talk gave him time to mull over if it was worth the risk of offering to have one of his team check the man's injury. He could play it as a trade perhaps so it wouldn't really damage his cover but it could put Brainy and Lyle at risk. Still considering his choices, Cos gestured at himself and added, "Rokk Krinn."

Charles hardly considered himself threatening or a threat. He never would have thought about other people minded having him as a neighbor of sorts, considering he kept to himself.

"I think I made her angry when we spoke before getting in this arena. I told her our district numbers didn't truly matter," Charles didn't really think it was that important, so it got pushed to the back of his mind. "She wanted to be in Eight, so I likely offended her."

It wasn't like he could predict that she'd take these steps over a conversation like that. It was brief, and he never even got her name when they talked.

"Charles Xavier," he responded.

"People care about that?" Honestly he had barely paid any attention to the specific district he'd been assigned to. It didn't seem to matter in terms of what happened to them and almost all the districts seemed equally oppressed so he'd taken it as just a way of dividing them up.

"She wasn't a native, was she?" As far as he knew all the Tributes were off-worlders but perhaps a native had been included? It was the only reason to have any sort of attachment to a specific district he could think of.

Edited (wrong icon) 2014-06-02 01:46 (UTC)

"Apparently," Charles answered. He wasn't sure why it mattered, but apparently it was cause for name calling outside of the arena. Then hitting with a rock and stealing it once inside. To him, it more or less just seemed like a thing that happened, but didn't mean much of anything. Especially considering people that seemed to have friends and allies in a variety of districts.

"She was not. I don't understand it, either. It seems petty."

"Well we are supposed to be killing each other to amuse our benefactors. If someone needs a way to justify it to themselves who am I to judge?" He waved the matter aside as though he didn't feel killing needed any justification personally but understood that not everyone was comfortable getting blood on their hands.

"Seems to me you should find someone to watch your back but then, who's going to be stupid enough to help a stranger unless they have something to gain from it?" Someone would though he was sure. So far as he'd seen the majority of the Tributes were decent individuals forced into a bad situation. If Charles didn't have any allies currently he surely would be able to find some willing to aid him.

Charles nodded. He did, in a way, agree with the assessment. Charles did need help here, and he did need someone to watch his back. He wasn't about to ask for that, help, though. He had, all in all, hoped that he would find someone he knew so that he could also be useful to them. Charles wasn't someone who enjoyed depending on others. He never had in the past, and he didn't want to start now.

"I would say a complete lack of choice is good enough justification to some," Charles answered. He didn't know if he'd be able to justify to himself why he should kill anyone. He didn't think he'd be able to do it. "I wouldn't say that it is for me, though. So I pass no judgment."

"Suit yourself. Though if you plan on surviving long you'd best at least be willing to defend yourself. It's not that hard to improvise a weapon from what's lying around if you try. Unless that's too much to justify for you."

It was the best he felt Rokk could do in terms of helping without giving himself away. So long as Charles was careful and found someone he could trust he had at least a chance at surviving. He still didn't like it but there weren't many other options.

"Defending myself doesn't need justification," Charles said. If someone attacked him, he had good reason to fight back. Although he hadn't thought about obtaining a weapon. He'd have to pick something up to carry around with him. Perhaps a rock. That girl had made good use of one of those.

He accepted and absorbed the advice, no matter how much he disliked the idea of this.

"Right. Well you're not completely hopeless." He shrugged and stepped back away from Charles. "It's been fun but I think I've done my good deed for the year. I'll see you around unless you die before then."

Rokk offered a mocking salute and turned to head off, unless Charles felt like stopping him. He didn't entirely like it but he had teammates to think of first.

Charles understood, though. He had people to see to, and Charles needed to find somewhere different and safe. Somewhere that he hadn't just told someone he barely knew...where it was. "Or once it is over," he added. He wouldn't force anyone to stay around (not that he could, anyway).

It was later in the week when Gabriel decided to make his way back around to the houses again. He had given others plenty of time to strip everything clean of the place and leave. Though, avoiding people and a possible conflict led to a bad situation. He was hungry. Very hungry and it sucked. He hated being hungry and dirty and tired and sore- It all sucked.

Food was probably gone and it was likely the Cornucopia and some of the houses were being guarded, but he didn't have much other choice in the matter. Dying still didn't sound like an awesome idea and last time wasn't really as bad as it could have been. At least it wasn't by someone else's hand...

All he had to his name was his clothes, though. The jacket was valuable enough at night, but he couldn't really see someone killing him for that this early on. Killing him to get him out of the way for later, though? Entirely possible.

The jacket was tied around his waist as Gabriel walked quietly towards the buildings. It was broad daylight, minus the fog, but all he had to worry about during the day was other tributes. He'd seen things during the night that he didn't want to have much to do with.

Maybe he could snag a make shift weapon if he was lucky and barbecue one of those creepy crawlies later.

The thought left when he caught sight of a shadow coming nearer... Gabriel stopped walking and stood still. Better that way, he figured.

Charles was dirty, unhappy, and hungry. He was a privileged individual at home, and this was not the lifestyle he was used to - nor did he expect for a moment to be good at it. He was cold on nights, and had found ways to get by, mostly by hiding and keeping away from others. The fog had made this easy for him.

He didn't spot many figure in these few days, but that was because he had made very calculated efforts to avoid them.

"Don't stay still, better a moving target than a standing one," Charles said as he approached. He learned that lesson the hard way.

Gabriel stopped dead for a second before his shoulder sagged in a sigh. "Nice to know there's ranged weapons walking around here, too, I guess," he answered back. The guy struck up a conversation, so he might as well keep with it.

He moved forward, too, approaching the new guy. "Probably not a good idea to give advice to other tributes, though. Some of these guys might kill ya."

"Yes, some of them might," Charles moved his hand to rub his head. It hurt. "I think if you had wanted to kill me, I likely would be dead already," Charles answered. It was a point, at least. The fog enabled sneaking about, and he wasn't exactly the most skilled individual.

Wow, this guy was new. Gabriel chuckled. "Maybe, but I'm a special snowflake that laughs at the jokes in his head. Most people got dragged here out of a nine to five job and never been in a fist fight, but they'll still try to kill you. Put a bunch of scared people in a hole and tell them only one comes out alive, the shit starts slingin'... Not to say everyone's normal, though. We got a walking, talking turtle somewhere and a caveman who invented shoes."

Gabriel suddenly had a flashback of the distant past. He could almost feel Michael slapping him on the back of the head and telling him to shut up. So, he shrugged. "Anywho, yeah. I could have probably killed you by now. Too early yet for all that, though... I really hope you don't have a headache, cause I don't got any Advil."

Charles didn't necessarily believe that everyone here was out for his head. Only in some cases would someone make the choice to kill. Right now, they were being forced to, and some of them would still make the choice not to kill anyone if they could avoid it. It wouldn't stop him from defending himself, though.

People were, inherently, better than what this sort of place allowed them to be.

"No headache, just a bruise. Rocks, apparently, hurt when you're hit over the head with them." Charles' tone had a touch bit of sarcasm. He would fall into the category of people who have never been in a fight.

"I've talked to many of the different types. Not the turtle or caveman, though." Not yet, at least.

"Too early?" Charles shrugged, "Based on what you have said, there wouldn't be such a thing."

Edited 2014-05-31 03:58 (UTC)

Gabriel nodded in agreement. Yes, rocks could be painful. He's probably been in a lot of fight before, but this guy is still getting used to the vulnerabilities of humans, and boy there was a lot of them.

"The caveman's cool," he shrugged. "Turtle guy seems nuts, but I haven't really met him either. Don't worry, you'll meet others, too. We got all sorts here."

Then Gabriel smirked. Oh, he liked this guy. He was quick. "Only one lives. At first, there's a lot of people running around. Everyone's eaten at least a week ago, most people haven't gotten an injury yet, some folks even got food or a weapon or something. Fast forward five or six weeks and everything goes to Hell. This is only my second go around, though."

In Charles' opinion, killing early on would allow for them to doing it on a full stomach. You were at your top strength. Getting injured wouldn't take everything out of you, probably. He was learning some about how the game was played from this man. The subtle suggestions to sit and wait, play the game quietly and then loudly was what he got from the conversation. That was how he intended to play now. Wait until people were weeded out, weaker, but keep your strength up.

"My first go," Charles said, as if the statement wasn't obviously. He didn't offer his hand, he wasn't sure if it would be accepted. "Charles Xavier."

Edited (i sure can't type!!) 2014-06-05 03:41 (UTC)

Cuthbert had been lying low for as long as he could, but stealing through back alleys was a good way to keep out of the worst of it. He was nervous seeing movement ahead, but when it turned out to be another tribute and not something worse he calmed down.

He did wait until the person stopped for a minute with his back against a walk before getting closer. He didn't recognize this tribute and new people were unpredictable at best.

"Anything chasing you, friend? Aside of me, obviously."

"Not right now," Charles answered. True enough, but things always appeared out of the shadows, and people had a habit of sneaking up on him, so he wasn't about to assume that his answer was completely correct. It wasn't that he was unaware of his surrounding, but he was still dealing with figuring out how to sense others around him, when he had been so used to having his mutation to do that for him.

"Just me, I'm afraid."

The fog was lighter, yet still thick towards the end of the week, enough to see a little further than before. Enough so to make Steve more willing to venture further from his allies than before, he was less likely to get disoriented. It wasn't hard to right himself, but that could leave him vulnerable enough to have a run in with the local beasts.

He was nearing the park, his trashcan lid shield in hand, when he catches sight of someone. Quickly, he crouches down and approaches quieter, trying to see who they are or if they need help.

Though, as soon as he recognizes the man, he rights himself. He makes sure his next footstep makes enough noise to announce him before he speaks in a friendly but neutral tone, "Might be a little cold to be going without your jacket."

Charles turned when he heard his footsteps, and recognized the man immediately. It was nice to see a friendly face in the arena after the way the week had progressed. Hit in the head with a rock, the fog, the cold - and being forced to duck into houses for a few hours at a time to keep himself from getting killed.

"It might be," Charles answered. He offers Steve a half smile. He steps towards him and offers his hand. "A shame this is how we officially meet," he said. It truly was. Even in one conversation, Charles had gotten a positive impression from him.

Without hesitating, Steve takes the other man's hand and gives it a shake, his disposition becoming less neutral and more welcoming. He hates having to be cautious around everyone, but he knows the hazards of being in a nest full of vipers. It's not his first time not being able to tell friend from foe.

"Well, can't say this is the worst way I've met someone," there's definitely some deadpan humor to it. He's met people in much worse circumstances, but at least he and Charles met briefly over video.

"Here," taking his hand back, Steve removes his jacket to hand to Charles. "Probably need it more than I do."

"Nor myself," Charles answered - thinking on each incident he had when he had spent time meeting the other mutants and up through the time he had spent so far in Cuba. Still, meeting in a quiet place where there wasn't a chance everyone would come out to kill you would be preferred.

Charles hesitated to accept the offered jacket. "Thank you," he said.

Steve's action wasn't necessary but appreciated. Charles pulled it over his shoulders and arms. Steve was...really, a much bigger guy than him.

Seeing his jacket on the slighter man, Steve can't stop the amused chuckle. "Might be a bit big on you, but it should help keep you warm."

He rights the trashcan lid in his left hand again now that he's done taking off the jacket. It looks ridiculous, he knows, but it really does the job he needs it for, so he keeps it. Besides, he's too fond of having a shield to go without.

"How you holding up?"

"Fairly well, considering," Charles answered. Considering the entire situation was just so strange. He had heard about how bad the arena could get, but never really expected people to be that awful towards each other - save a few individuals, of course.

"How are you, Steve?" he looked well - healthy, sturdy. Nothing like himself, of course. Certainly far more equipped for a fight. Still, he never would expect anyone to be doing well.

He's glad to hear Charles isn't doing too bad, even if the man doesn't look like he's doing as well as he claims, he'll still take him at his word. The arena isn't fun and games, he's sure everyone's had their fair share of trouble so far.

"I'm in one piece still, that's got to count for something." He's actually doing better than he thought he would coming into the arena, but it seems everyone's using the fog to avoid each other. That's well enough for Steve at the moment.

"It counts for everything, to be honest," Charles answered. The ability to keep yourself together here meant that you wouldn't be lost to the whole environment of the arena. He believed the best of people, truly, but when faced with something like this, he couldn't necessarily predict how they'd react.

"I know not everyone can remain a good person when faced with things like this," Charles said. "I want to believe that there are some who are better than that."

"There are," he knows, without doubt, his allies are those people who will remain good and true to themselves, "but when faced with your own survival, limits and morals are tested and broken. It's about if they can put themselves back together after, if they want to be shaped by this place or to shape themselves into something better than this."

Much like how Steve will take a life if attacked with the intent to kill, when words and incapacitating them fail, but never needless slaughter. He's not a murderer, but he's not going to lay down and die either. He has people worth surviving for.

Besides, it's the government here that is the true enemy, not his fellow tributes.

Edited (sorry wording 8|) 2014-06-22 03:40 (UTC)

Charles knew that the number of people who would do the right thing would be small. Survival was one of the most basic instincts that all beings had. Humans and non-humans alike. "I don't blame their reactions to this situation," Charles responded. He wouldn't take another life unless it was absolutely necessary. There would need to be no other options available to him.

"I understand the nature of people, it is why something like this works."

"It's an effective system, especially with people who weren't raised with this being a constant influence," as so many of the people native to this land had been. This was something they inevitably had the chance to be a part of, but now they brought in strangers from strange lands to take their place. Many of which just want to live.

"It's a tough lot we're in, but for my part, well, I've always been one to stick to my guns," Steve's lips quirk up a little, even with a little good nature in his words, there's still miles of conviction.

Steve is going to help people here, even if it gets him killed.

Edited 2014-06-28 10:26 (UTC)

"I believe that," Charles answered. Steve seemed the type who wasn't easily convinced by others around him. He appreciated that about his new-found friend. Steve was a good guy - genuinely. Better than Charles could even convince himself he was. He tried really hard, but he could never be like Steve. He wanted to be, though.

He smiled, just a little, "And for those of us who were brought here, we just make it an exciting show, I suppose."

"Well, some of us might. I'll probably be boring and unpopular, with me helping rather than hurting people," Steve gives a shrug and a smile that can be described as a little self content. He really doesn't care if he's popular or not, just if he's able to continue helping others.

So, popularity would help, but he's got a plan for that.

"But yeah, fresh blood shakes things up, less old hat that way," it's dry, but there's a touch of humor still.

"Maybe they want people like you here, though. I can't imagine that they'd waste resources someone here if they didn't want them to some capacity." There had to be heroes to root for, and heroes that would eventually die in there. "We're the change they need...just for now." He was sure they would bring more of them here in the future.

"The change they need, hm? I can work with that." They'll come to regret bringing Captain America here, to these games, these death matches. It was a dumb mistake on their part to snatch him and his allies, because Steve has recently torn down a government institution, he will do it again.

"I'm always game for shaking things up," Steve gets that small smile back on his face before looking at Charles. He's keeping his wording vague as to mean the games or something more, though he hopes for the cameras he comes off as talking about the arena. "How about you?"

"I'm not much good here," Charles admitted, "so I can't imagine the reason for me being here except to shake things up." He wasn't much of a fighter, but he certainly would be good for doing exactly what Steve has implied. He would do all that he could.

He raises an eyebrow, wondering if Charles implied the same thing Steve did or not, but knows this is no place to ask that. Still. "Then, let's give it our best shot." But not wanting to risk anything, Steve doesn't linger on the topic.

"How about we just worry about survival for now?" there's a slight tone of humor to it. "If you want, you're welcome to stay with me. To warn you, it's a bit of a full house."

"I'd like that," Charles answered. At least he wouldn't be alone for some time. It'd be a safe place for even just a few moments. "I won't stay too long," he said, not wanting to over stay the welcome. "But during the first few days here, it'd be best." Especially since Charles thought this would be the time where most people would get killed.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you want," he doubts the others would question his trust in this man. Besides, if someone like Charles is also in Matt's world, then that means he's in Bucky and Natasha's too. So, he doesn't see a reason for anyone to protest.

"The group can be rowdy, but they're good people, would have your back so you can sleep easier."

"A couple of shifts to sleep and share in the guard duties would be nice," Charles said. He hadn't gotten hardly any sleep in those first few days, and just by looking at his face, one could tell. "It'll be nice to get a bit of sleep, too." He'd probably do a bit better in the arena after getting a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep. "I don't mind rowdy. I work with young people at home."

"Do you? Well good, then these idiots won't bother you too much," well, one of them is a jerk, but Steve will try to keep that from being too much of an issue. "Come on, you look dead on your feet," Steve gives a pat to Charles' shoulder as he nods the direction they need to go.

Charles was not about to turn down any help that someone trustworthy offered him. Even if the others he was with weren't, Steve certainly was. "Alright, thank you, Steve." He moved in the direction Steve was leading him.

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week 1; open.

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