live fast die young bad fugitivi do it well

[gladiayyygirl]

Who: Nasir & Gannicus & open to all!
What: See the prompts below. Basically, a couple of ex-slaves have fun in the fog, hunt like a pack of thugs and enjoy themselves. If you fancy a scuffle then you've come to the right party.
When: Throughout week 2 (and beyond?)
Where: All over the place! They aren't staying still, that's for sure.
Notes: Warnings for violence (!) and awful language. Will update if need be.

A. closed to Nasir & Gannicus only ( in which heat vision is a thing and nobody cares much for acid spray )

The Cornucopia had been... disappointing. The lead pipe that he had hefted for the first few days was far from satisfactory; the swing of it was wrong and he missed the impaling point of his swords. A blunt object was all well and good but Gannicus had a fondness for the familiar weight of a gladii in each hand.

And then the knife had arrived.

"The city of bread and they feed us fucking crumbs!" He laughed as he swung the short knife with an experimental air, slicing and cutting down imaginary Tributes as he paced the flat roof of a garage. This was their home for the night: exposed, but elevated and distant. A lead pipe in his lead hand and a knife in his off hand - it was unbalanced and crude (much like many men Gannicus had known over the years) and it would have to do.

Unsatisfied but resigned, he shot a curious look at Nasir over his shoulder.

"Tell me the gods have blessed you with better offering?"

B. Nasir & OPEN ( in which Nasir's hair remains immaculate no matter how many rude bitches get up in his business )

Nasir knew it was wiser to stay with Gannicus, but at the same time they could cover more ground and find more resources if they were apart for the time. But that wasn't the true reason he was walking through the fog on his own, trusting on his heat vision goggles to show him any nearby tributes. He was searching for someone from home.

If Gannicus was here, then why not Agron? Maybe even his brother. The Capitol had taken them after all. Why waste a former gladiator?

Nasir kept his turning his gaze around him, raising the goggles every now and then so he didn't become disoriented in a world of red, orange, and blue. He listened too. If he didn't find Agron, then he would find another Tribute to take their life and what supplies they had.

He was going to survive this arena.

C. Gannicus & OPEN ( in which Gannicus misses his audience, damn it. )

Gannicus was unhappy. This arena business was entirely wrong.

Where were the crowds? Where was that familiar, comforting roar - where was the pulsing, beastly universal scream for blood? He missed the way it filled his head, rising to match his pulse, blocking out all other worries and fears and replacing them with a primal urge to kill. It was simpler that way. Easier.

He could imagine it if he really tried - but if he really tried, then he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. And that, Gannicus knew, would be a fatal error.

The heat vision goggles were going to take some getting used to - they were heavy and weighed his head down more than he liked, but the chance to see the world in a vivid new way was far too useful to pass up. Now, he hunted the bright red shapes in the mist - distant, fleeting flashes of heat and life that darted in and out of houses and between trees as Gannicus silently skirted his way about the town. The other Tributes were out here, somewhere. The red spectres that moved through the black mist of his heat vision goggles would show him the way.

Gannicus was still unhappy, but at least he had a plan: keep moving, keep hunting - light and quick, fast and small. Remember the noise of the crowd. Give everyone a glorious death.

D. Nasir & Gannicus & OPEN ( in which god knows what happens )

Tag us with your own scenario! Nasir and Gannicus will be out roaming the arena together during the day and by night they are camping out in various different roof tops and hidey holes. Feel free to run in to them!

Comments

A

[calledmenasir]

Nasir had abandoned his piece of wood in favor of a crowbar, not that he knew what to call it. He swung it, feeling the weight of it in his hands and the way it cut through the air so much more readily than the blunt weapon from the cornucopia. And that hook at the end-- he could make use of that.

"I have been gifted with this." He held out the crowbar for inspection. "I do not recognize it. I would rather grasp spear in hand but I find it preferable to what else we have."

B and then joined by Gannicus?

[celebrityskinned]

Armed with a chainwhip, Venus has begun prowling the street near the shoe store. This is the time of evening when threats are most likely; there's still enough light for people to scavenge, and the fog is mostly spread, but the cloying heat of the day has subsided. The next hour will be the most active, and thus, the most deadly.

When she takes to the rooftops, she swings the chain, if only to make as if its twining weight is an extension of herself. On the ground, she carries it, hand folded around the links the piece of metal she's attached as a dart. She's a bit rusty with the art, but after the last few days she's returned to more than just competence with the metal whip. She stops as she sees someone else in the fog.

She has made no promises, to herself or anyone else, not to kill. Every person alive is another person between Ellie and victory, or Kankri and victory, or Joly and victory, or so on. She has people to get to safety. She has a show to put on.

She walks out onto the asphalt of the street and stops. She doubts she could run up and attack him from behind, but it may be safer than calling attention to herself. She doesn't know what her odds are like between a chain and Nasir's own skills.

Still. "Nasir!"

The viewers will want an impressive fight, and two gladiators should be able to provide it.

C

[assassinat]

It isn't the first time she's felt as if she's being hunted in this place, but maybe it was just paranoia getting to her. An attribute that kept her alive out of this world, Natasha's damn well certain it will be what causes her death. Still, she kept her steps light as she nimbly moves through the neighborhood.

If there was a destination in mind, it didn't seem apparent. In fact, it appears more as if she's circling around in order to draw attention to herself. Clearing this area will keep her allies safe. Her precious friends.

Unlike those men who pride themselves on being heroes, she will revert to her natural born state of a killer. Strike from the shadows, spill blood so they wouldn't have to, and do everything to ensure their survival.

She stops and holds out her arm, fingers gesturing in his general direction. Not obscene, but the taunting message is clear enough: come.

C because hair band

[worldsaway]

Perhaps a few years ago, Thor would have reveled in the glory of a spectated arena. Perhaps he would have approached it with less care and caution and more violence and determination. These days, his interests lie beyond his own glory. There are people to help, people too weak to be expected to fight amongst warriors. He's found his allies already, but on occasion he'll brave the fog to patrol and listen for the sounds of trouble. He knows deep down he can't keep everyone alive, but he can't look out for himself and only himself in good conscience.

He's armed with a wrench, which doesn't feel right in his hand compared to mjolnir, but he's happy to have it. He can see figures in the fog ahead and he tightens his grip on it, bringing himself up to his full height as he stares ahead in an attempt to identify the ghosts.

"A fine night for it!" He calls out into the fog, trying to gauge the temperaments of the figures with a dry observation.

C- slides in a million years late but during hellrena

[sithcretapprentice]

It was a mistake, he's starting to realize, to have separated from Sabriel. He'd done so with the intention of finding additional supplies, after theirs had dwindled. But then circumstances had meant they became separated, and as such he's found himself alone.

Alone and powered.

Sabriel hasn't had the chance to heal him just yet, thanks to the whole getting separated. But right now, he's convinced he doesn't need healing, because he has the Force. It's strange, having it again after so long. He can feel the dark side, slowly crawling through him. A part of him finds it a welcome feeling, another can't help but push it back, try and resist, like it's a slow corruption.

His head injury helps nothing. He can still feel his head throb, and it disorients him in the most frustrating way. But he's trying to use the Force to sense other people, and it only makes his head worse. But he tries not to focus on the pain in his head, and instead focuses on finding supplies.

Until he can feel the presence of another nearby. He tenses, body at the ready to defend himself, as he makes his way closer to the other man- and then he sees him.

"Unless you want your time in the arena to end abruptly, I would suggest you move along."

They're big words, but he's confident he can back them up now that he has his powers, regardless of his head injury.