matt murdock's life is out of control. (
guardiandevil) wrote in
thearena2014-05-26 12:28 pm
Entry tags:
Whether whistling heaven's clouds disappear
Who| Matt Murdock + Open
What| There's a blind dude wandering through a creepy old amusement park, nothing to see here.
Where| The amusement park
When| Week 2
Warnings/Notes| Character death in Natasha's thread.
Initially, he thought he might have an advantage in this place. The fog didn't obscure the vision he already lacked, so he didn't have to bother with adjusting to near blindness. However, the problem with the fog was in it's power to mask and warp sounds. Instead of hearing the world echoing back at him, his radar was being tricked. Distances were unclear and the entire landscape was shrouded in mystery. And somehow, somehow, he'd managed to wander into the amusement park, with only his parachuted-in crowbar to defend himself.
He was on edge, jumpy, and not afraid to use his weapon first and ask questions after the fact or not at all, and he was just passing a rotting and broken down merry-go-round when he thought he heard someone approach through the fog. He didn't call out though, instead he moved instinctively with the slow moving fog, hoping to keep out of sight of whoever or whatever was just behind him.
What| There's a blind dude wandering through a creepy old amusement park, nothing to see here.
Where| The amusement park
When| Week 2
Warnings/Notes| Character death in Natasha's thread.
Initially, he thought he might have an advantage in this place. The fog didn't obscure the vision he already lacked, so he didn't have to bother with adjusting to near blindness. However, the problem with the fog was in it's power to mask and warp sounds. Instead of hearing the world echoing back at him, his radar was being tricked. Distances were unclear and the entire landscape was shrouded in mystery. And somehow, somehow, he'd managed to wander into the amusement park, with only his parachuted-in crowbar to defend himself.
He was on edge, jumpy, and not afraid to use his weapon first and ask questions after the fact or not at all, and he was just passing a rotting and broken down merry-go-round when he thought he heard someone approach through the fog. He didn't call out though, instead he moved instinctively with the slow moving fog, hoping to keep out of sight of whoever or whatever was just behind him.

Down for chat or a scuffle!
He rounded a corner, oblivious to having company - but just so gosh-darned happy he needed to express it.
"What a blessed, beautiful day this is," he trilled through the fog, accompanied by the clatter of his pipe tapping something metal. "I love it here!"
\o/
"Is it now?" He called back cautiously, thoroughly unnerved. "I hadn't really noticed."
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Kevin headed for the voice, his own tone brightening even farther. There was something strange about it...some strange quality about the way that he spoke.
"Oh, it is! It's just lovely!" He picks up the pipe, hugging it to his chest like its a teddy bear. The vague image of the man isn't terribly imposing...he isn't too tall, too short, too thin, or two fat.
It's just...something strange about his voice, or an undertone in his voice.
"Where are you, friend? Have we met before?"
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But then again, it was probably too late for that.
"I'm here. In the mist." He answered, staying completely still. "And I don't believe we have... friend."
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"C'mon and step forward so I can shake your hand, then! My name is Kevin. So pleased to meet you! What's your name?"
He doesn't mean any malice - his pipe isn't poised for a hit, and his movements are casual. He doesn't seem bothered in the slightest by the surroundings, for that matter.
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"My name's Matt. It's good to meet you, Kevin." He had his crowbar lowered now, so as not to startle the strange smelling man.
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He still didn't abandon it, though. Anything could be useful. So, with food and a sort of weapon type of thing, Gabe made for the amusement park as planned. Clowns and old rides didn't scare him, but it gave him ideas to scare others. He could lead them away from him or make a trap to kill anyone pressing their luck. There should have been enough there to make a makeshift trap with.
On the other hand, he honestly didn't expect other tourists coming to check this place out, at least not a whole lot of them. Gabriel was shocked when he ran into someone not ten minutes after he entered the grounds. But then the person was gone, vanished into the fog...
He didn't want a fight, but if this one would just stay out of the way, maybe it would be fine. Gabriel secured his pack over his shoulder and held the crowbar with one hand, like it was his old sword from way too long ago, and he started moving slowly along his path.
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Deciding he'd had enough, he suddenly stopped in his tracks and adopted a defensive stance, crowbar clutched in hand as a replacement for his signature billy club. Whoever or whatever was lurking out there would have to meet him face to face.
"I can hear you, you know." He called out into the thick fog. His own voice somehow bounced back at him, washing over him in a strange wave of sound.
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He let out a breath and decided to do what he did best. Talk. "Yeah, I got that," Gabriel said tiredly from his spot behind Matt, "I just wanted to go around you, is all. Not looking to start something."
Gabe still couldn't see the other man clearly and, what was worse, he didn't know how far their voices were travelling or who else was hiding in this park. Not much could be done now.
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"This way leads back toward the roller coaster. It's a mess back there." He'd gotten lost back there before. On the off chance he was dealing with someone like him, just trying to survive, he didn't want to screw them over by letting them get lost.
Also fine with either a chat or a fight!
But this was different. Before he could always rely on the Force to get him through whatever dangerous situation he was in. He couldn't do that now. For starters, his powers had already been cut off long before he was sent to the Arena, so that was out. At least he could see again, for all the good it did in the fog around him.
So there he was, his second week in this arena he'd been thrown into with little to no explanation, completely unarmed, surviving by scavenging around for canned food, when he found himself in a bizarre, rotted place. He really couldn't make out the purpose any of those weird structures could have. But his wondering was interrupted by the sound of another person walking near him. He barely made out their outline in the fog when they suddenly disappeared.
This was not good news. It either meant someone was trying to stay out of trouble, which was fine with him, truth be told, or they were trying to jump him. The second one meant he had to be more careful than he'd been so far. He slowed down, and scoped the area around, trying to find something he could find some refuge or an improvised weapon in.
huzzah!
He slowed his pace in response, holding fast to his crowbar, taking the few seconds he had to remain concealed in the shifting fog to decide what to do. Fight, flight, or negotiations. Those were the options. What could he do?
"You lost out there, buddy?" He tried to sound certain, not wanting to let on that he couldn't pinpoint the location of the other person. If he could keep up the bluff, he could maybe talk his way into an easy sort of peace before having to rely on his fists.
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Taking that in mind, Kota tried to think of what to do next. He supposed it was likely enough that the other man wanted to get out of there without having to fight as much he did. Not everyone was bound to be armed and ready, especially if other people had been brought in out of the blue, seemingly mid-event.
"Is anyone here not lost?" he said, stopping where he was. Given his situation, he figured talking to the other man wasn't a bad bet, if it meant he could possibly get out of this unscatched
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He was still rather lost, but he recognized a few of the landmarks in the amusement park and had memorized which of them was in which location. The carousel and the roller coaster were the two he seemed to locate most frequently, having passed them both several times already. The ferris wheel was proving more difficult to relocate in the fog, though, as were the actual exits. But he wasn't about to admit as much to a stranger. He was too focused on not getting himself killed.
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In a quick thought, Kota wondered if he could get some information while he was there in that stand-off. Either way, keeping the other talking would be the best way to ensure either of them would get out of there alive. "So what kind of place is this? I don't think I've seen anything quite like it."
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i hope this is ok!!
It is!
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towards the end of week 2, cw: character death
Well, that means it would be one less person her comrades would have to fend off in their future. Death was inevitable, of this Natasha was certain. Normally this kind of wound would have instantly killed a lesser person, but if there's anything she's perfected in her lifetime, it was the art of staying alive just to defy the odds.
So now she needs to even these odds for those who will remain within the Arena once her body gave out. Stalking through the fog is easy enough, but she could have sworn she heard someone nearby. While others may try to follow the strange path of sound, Natasha's figured it out from day one and after two weeks of navigating it, left it to chance. Not blind chance, but through a healthy enough process of elimination, she strikes through the haze in the direction she believes her opponent to be.
Surprisingly, her gestures are sluggish and what perfume she may have started off with was now drowned out by sweat and the stench of blood. An overwhelming amount, clearly the kind that will lead a person to death.
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A second later, the faint smells of her sweat and perfumes hit him like a tidal wave. "Natasha?"
She seems to appear to him like a vision, her silhouette staggering through the fog in a slow, painful gait. He's in pain just listening to her, breathe and bleed. He hates hearing her so helpless. He hates that he knows what those noises mean.
"Come on, kid. Not like this." His voice is firm, but gentle, and he's with her before he even realizes it. "Come on, Tasha."
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Whatever fight remained within her dissipates into the haze around the pair and exhaustion grips her tightly. If she's in shock, she's doing well at keeping the feelings locked under the heavy visor she always wore, her mind armored as it always was.
"Kid--haa." It hisses out of her just like her blood. "That's the kindest compliment you've given this old flame of yours in years."
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It's too late and he knows it, but like hell is he going to just resign himself to losing her again.
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Natasha knows it's too late. The delivery of the decisive blow should have been enough to kill her instantaneously, but it was a move she recognized. Foolish as it was to defy them the kill, her death was inevitable. The agonizing struggle to breath and live was her fault, only her's. Another mistake to add onto the pile.
The gambit she set herself out to do falls further out of reach. If there was anyone nearby, Matt will guide her away from them therefore rendering her time here useless. He won't allow her to senselessly kill and that thought alone brings her unspoken relief.
She didn't really want to do it in the first place.
"Shit, I need to sit down." That's as much of a warning as she can give before she's dropped down to her knees beside him, coughing into her hands. Everything aches and she's so cold, yet she doesn't complain. No sense to it. No sense to any of this. "If you ever had something to get off your chest... now might be the time, Matt."
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Strolling along the ragged remains of once colorful gaming stalls she found a set up meant for ping pong balls. Some chipped plastic cups sat floating on scummy filthy water and as far as she could tell she was supposed to throw the ball into the cups.
None of the prizes that hung on the wall of the stall were appealing however. They were moldy and moth eaten plush toys with eyes hanging out of their faces and kept attached only by strings.
Still she was trying to not think about how miserable and creepy this arena had become. Trying not to think about how when Pruna died she'd finally screamed despite enduring so much pain to that point.
Finding the plastic balls she bounced once off the counter and it landed in the water with a plop. She was so distracted as she took her second shot she didn't realize that she wasn't alone.
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He cleared his throat softly, to alert her to his presence while hopefully not scaring her. "Are you lost?"
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The question was a common one though so she held still and answered carefully "Does it count as being lost if everyone else in the world knows where you are?" It was hard to imagine the concept of lost when millions of people at home were watching her.
But lost emotionally? Absolutely.
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It's dark still, but Matt was close enough now that his face would be more clearly visible. If Sandy got a good look, she might even notice that his eyes were cataracted, milky white, sightless.
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"Uh...are you...OK?" She asked with a sort of vague bluntness that only comes from a child trying desperately to be polite.
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