aboveangrybees: <user name="citadel_icons" site="insanejournal.com"> (Default)
Steve Rogers ([personal profile] aboveangrybees) wrote in [community profile] thearena2014-06-03 02:00 pm

[Open] The journey thus far...

Who| Steve and Anyone!
What| This feels too much like sitting around and waiting to die. Or a catchall for before and during the first Hell-rena.
Where| Everywhere.
When| Weeks 1 & 2 (or the week before and week of the first Hell-rena)
Warnings/Notes| Mild language and violence, update as needed.

Watching videos of past arenas can only make someone so prepared for the real thing, but actually being here is far more chaotic and unpredictable than the videos ever depicted. This place is a veritable wonderland of possibilities. Steve really has no idea what to expect.

But still, he didn't expect it to be this, well, calm. Sure, he got attacked on the first day and he's had to fight off some nasty creatures here and there during the days after, even ran had a few peaceful encounters with people, but the fog acts as a blanket over a birdcage, making everything quiet. Too quiet maybe.

He just didn't know exactly what too quiet would lead to, but he was smart enough to know it would be no good.

When the sirens first blare, Steve immediately goes to find his allies, so he can get them somewhere safe; the noise is an all too familiar sound from his days in the war. But then the fog clears and temperature rises with unnatural speed, the walls dissolving instead of the telling sounds of planes and bombs, well, wasn't hard to catch on.

[ooc: I'm going to comment some prompts below, feel free to use them or, if you rather, you can leave me a prompt! I'm open to anything, including some scuffles. Just make sure to specify when it's for so I know where it fits in. You can use the prompts as an idea for what's going on during those times.

Also, prose or bracket RP is fine by me, I don't have a preference, so do which ever you prefer.]
yourmove: (077)

Re: Hell-rena Prompt

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-06-05 05:38 am (UTC)(link)
By now Alex isn't doing too hot. He doesn't know it, but when they built his chassis, OmniCorp had just assumed he'd always have access to a controlled environment at least once every few days for "little" things like maintenance, glucose solutions, blood cleansing. Everything that keeps him alive instead of dying inside the world's most expensive tin can. They hadn't thought he'd be stumbling around a Dali painting from hell, staggering like a drunk.

Somewhere along the way he lost Clara. Alex tries to grab onto that but between heat stroke and the fact he simply wasn't built to live on his own anymore, he finds that something as simple as thinking slides away. Stuff blurs together. The grinding sound goes from just grating to the point where he can feel it vibrating in his bones, across the roof of his mouth. It seems more real than Clara and memories of Detroit.

His HUD seems to be doing better than he is. As he puts one foot in front of the other, it tries to reroute him, signaling [ SHELTER - IMMEDIATE LEFT ] and [MALE, CAUCASIAN; AGE_?? BIOMETRIC READ ERROR] and that's about the part where Alex finally checks out.

He pitches forward a few yards away from Steve Rogers, this big black shape that hits the ground with a deafening thud as Alex unceremoniously passes out from the heat.
Edited 2014-06-05 05:39 (UTC)
yourmove: (044)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-06-09 07:10 am (UTC)(link)
Alex doesn't seem to recover immediately. His head hangs down, the silver visor hiding his eyes, and his legs don't so much as wobble like a man's as drag like there's no muscle. In short, he's several hundred pounds of dead weight for Steve to drag, his feet making a dull scrapping sound that might draw the monsters out there.

Once inside the theater, Aex slides down with a clunk of graphene platting rubbing up against the wall. It takes a few minutes before he starts to revive, Alex groaning as he wonders what the hell that is rubbing at his cheek. It's wet, cool. He hopes it's not one of those things out there taste-testing him. All he knows is he feels like crap: his head swims, a thick layer of saliva on his tongue like he wants to puke but doesn't know if he even has the internal organs to manage. His eyes flutter open as the visor retracts away from a face that's gone several shades too pale.

He stares up at Steve - or, more accurately, he seems to stare at a point past him, because for some reason he's having trouble focusing. "What's..." Alex swallows thickly, trying again. "What's going on? Who're you?"

The HUD runs with static as he tries to figure out if he knows this guy or not. He's got one of those faces, the one that his gut instinct says he could trust. Alex wishes he could trust him. But he knows in the back of his mind that they’re both Tributes and there’s only so far the Good Samaritan act will go.

Alex struggles to push himself to his feet, stabilizers whining. A servo creaks loudly, something that’s too dark to be blood oozing out a hole in his side and smelling faintly of ozone.
yourmove: (090)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-06-13 09:28 am (UTC)(link)
Alex catches himself slurring, his eyebrows drawn together as he concentrates on things like words and speaking up. For some reason he focuses on: " - You dragged me?"

There's something weird about that and it takes him awhile to click that into place: there's no way he managed to lift him by himself. No way. Alex doesn't know exactly how much he weighs with the chassis, but he's assuming in the ballpark of a few hundred pounds he didn't have before. Maybe.

Says a lot for Steve's people skills because Alex feels like he should be worried than he already is. Especially when he starts to stand up and to his shock, Steve actually pushes him back down like he's a kid. Alex plunks back down against the wall, his surprise written all over his face.

"Uh. Sorry. I'm Alex." He at least remembers his name, despite how crappy he feels right. "How'd you drag me in here again?"
yourmove: (035)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-06-19 08:52 am (UTC)(link)
Cute. The guy can make jokes in the middle of a death match. Alex almost, almost finds himself starting to smile, despite everything. "Appreciate it."

He reaches out, aware of something vibrating along an arm that he's convinced might not be all there underneath the suit. Feels real, though. It feels as real as Steve, who has this whole wholesome Kansas vibe to him or something. Alex catches himself thinking it's the swept hair or the jaw and then realizes he's definitely got heat stroke or something. Taking the water bottle, he sips it gratefully, expecting to feel it going down his throat down to his stomach. It makes it to his mouth, he can feel it swish in his mouth...but when he swallows, he loses track of it. It's like it just goes through a net or something.

Alex tries again, doing his damnedest not to panic. Same thing. Maybe he can't drink anymore. Or the suit doesn't let him.

In denial, he tells himself it's just how crappy he's feeling right now. Of course he can drink. He'll feel in later, that's all. Alex cradles the water bottle as he looks up at Steve. The motion would've been a drunken loll if he'd had a neck with bones and tendons and muscle.

"Thanks," Alex reaches up to wipe his mouth. "You're way too decent for this place, y'know."
yourmove: (006)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-06-22 07:10 am (UTC)(link)
Alex almost shoots back with actually yeah, you could've left me out there but decides to keep his damn mouth shut. Steve seems like a decent guy. Nice. Real nice. The kind you wouldn't really see that often in Detroit. He doesn't want to give him any second thoughts like cyborg's being dead weight, drinking all the limited water. Least he could do was be a good guest.

"Don't think so," Alex shakes his head in this purely horizontal side-to-side that looks vaguely wrong, like an animatronic playing at being human. "It's acting like life support or something. Why'd you ask?"

Seems like he hasn't noticed the hole himself and once he sees it, he's not going to take it too well. Alex has had it up to here with his new body. He appreciates all the effort Steve put to drag his sorry ass in here but he doesn't like the look in the other man's face. It's not exactly pitying, thank God.

Alex starts to make another motion like he wants to get up, something in his arm clicking as he raises it and braces it against the wall. The motion increases the trickle of lubricant, the black-red fluid glistening as he shifts.
yourmove: (037)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-06-29 05:21 am (UTC)(link)
"Damage?" Alex's goes a little higher. "Like what?"

Normally he'd be taking this a little better: Detroit and cops don't mean you can look forward to a cushy retirement. He'd expected one of these days he'd get tagged on the job. Sure, he prepared himself for that. Saw it happen some other officers. He probably would've taken "you got shot/your legs broken/etc" over that one word, like he got into a fender bender or he ruptured a fuel line. Alex swallows reluctantly as he stops where he is, glancing at Steve's hand on his arm.

"Anything I can do to, uh, to help out?" It occurs to him that wasn't the smartest question he's asked, ever. It's not like he knows about how this rig works anymore than a total stranger like Steve does.
yourmove: (017)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-07-10 09:01 am (UTC)(link)
Alex would've said "I'll live" except now he's not even sure if that oil's important or not. He pauses, biting his lip unconsciously as if weighing how he wants to take the hole-in-him business.

"Christ," Alex says simply. He feels a little bit better hearing about this buddy of Steve's, though, because it's a least something and he tells himself that the idea of a mechanical engineer finding the right tools here is something he can worry about later. "I'd appreciate that. And this. The - the repairs."

He stumbles over the word, feeling it unfamiliar in his mouth. Steve seemed too good to be true. He had values, which the Capitol didn't have, and he was offering repairs and water to a total stranger. Alex had seen a lot of crap back in Detroit. A lot of good, too. But he'd never met anyone like Steve and he almost didn't know what to make of him. Alex keeps his arm lifted to give the man some space to work. He'd almost feel better about today if he wasn't left wondering about -

"Have you seen a blonde woman around? Her name's Clara."
yourmove: (094)

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-07-20 07:27 am (UTC)(link)
"Wife," Alex says with a sigh. "I think so. We were sticking together until the town...well, you saw it."

He's not even sure what to call it. Alex doesn't believe in magic or any of that crap, but he does know he can't explain the walls peeling the way they did.

Alex resists the urge to crane his head and watch Steve work, just looks stonily ahead because he doesn't want to look at the hole in his side and see wiring or oil. Whatever it is that's there instead of skin and blood. He'll assume he knows what he's doing. Maybe it's just like patching up a car, he thinks, and realizes after a few seconds that isn't that reassuring.

"You got anyone out there?"
yourmove: (027)

Thread end?

[personal profile] yourmove 2014-07-31 02:32 am (UTC)(link)
Alex almost smiles. For a second he thinks Steve sounds like his grandpa with the "heatwave nonsense". It's a lot more old school than his dad, who would've just gone with "heatwave bullshit" and called it a day.

"Thanks. I mean it." First Bucky that first night here and then this guy. He can't help but wonder what people like Steve will do as the days go by and the number of Tributes go down. He hopes they keep to their guns. It'd be nice to think they're out there, being a lot better than some of the cops back home and remembering principles, human decency. "Stay safe out there. If you don't find her by tonight, I'll probably head out. Don't want to use up all your water."