thearena | [ closed ]

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Who| Charles & Kevin
What| Someone's in the wrong place, wrong time. And...it does not go well.
Where| Between homes and on the street.
When| Week 3 / Near end of week.
Warnings/Notes| Death.

Charles moves faster, better than before he had his abilities. Even though they were gone, he understood the situation slightly more than he had before. Many of the individuals here were more than willing to murder you. And if you didn't deal with other people, the environment itself could just as easily end you. The creatures here were aggressive, and you had to be careful around them, too. Charles had spent the time sneaking about and learning how to get around. Now he had to do it without his skills giving him that upper hand.

He moved his way through the houses, moving in between them, trying to keep quiet and stay out of the way of other people. The less people he had to deal with, the better. The population inside the arena was slowing decreasing and if he didn't want to join one of the faces in the sky, then he would have to be careful. He wanted to help people, but it was starting to become difficult to do that. He didn't have any skills to offer, so he often found himself alone.

Charles leaned against one of the buildings, then when he thought it was quiet and that he was alone, he moved out towards the street, turning his head quickly left and ride. he wanted to be sure he watched up and down the street as he moved.

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If he were paying as much attention as he should, a figure would come into view in the distance - just a man, alone, picking his way down the street. Not tall, not short, not thin, not fat...and at a distance, not terribly imposing through the fog. Accompanying his movements were the sounds of a lead pipe tapping the ground, feeling out his path.

Was he blind?

Either way, his back was to Charles, and he didn't seem to notice he had company.

The pipe came to his ears before the man came into his line of sight. It wasn't that he wasn't paying attention - he had been - but it was easy to miss something among all the things that were going on. He ducked to the side of one of the houses, trying to not get caught.

He didn't know why he had a pipe, why he was walking through this own his own, but Charles didn't want to know. He approached the man, but sneaking was not exactly his strong point.

He was, of course, nothing like Erik.

Sure enough, the stranger suddenly stopped when Charles crept in his direction - going still and silent in the middle of the street, back still turned to the other man, but head tilting this way and that. Listening. Something blinked on the back of his neck, and a shudder ran down his spine that he didn't seem to notice.

"Hello, friend," he called out, his voice shrill and incongruously cheery.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are! Have we met?"

His face was still turned away.

Something about this was...wrong, to anyone watching.

Everything was wrong about this to Charles. He stopped in his tracks and watched him. "We haven't met," Charles said. He was cautious about speaking, and had the other man not noticed him, he wouldn't have said a word to him. He took one step back, watching him there. Run, he told himself, run.

"No? Well, gosh...."

At this moment, the stranger turned on his heel - revealing his face. The skin was still rough and peeling around his empty eye-sockets, coming off in dead strips running all the way down to the edges of his grin. That GRIN...too wide, too forced, too sharp with too many teeth.

He thrust his hand forward for a handshake, uncaring that said hand was red and filthy.

Something was definitely wrong here.

"My name is Kevin! What's yours?"

Charles makes the very quick choice against answering his question for his name. Seemed like a bad idea. While he wasn't much of a fighter, he was definitely smarter than that. He stepped back, away from the offered hand. "Kevin," Charles repeated, making sure he remembered the name and face. He wouldn't let himself forget it. He was mad.

He turned to his left and started moving away, starting slowly, at first. He didn't want to turn this into a chase.

"That's right! I'm Kevin," he echoes. He listens, hearing the footsteps shuffling back, away - his smile tightens a little bit, and he keeps his hand out in the direction of the sounds. Surely this new friend wasn't intending on walking away before proper introductions were had! That would just be bad business.

"...I'm sorry, I still haven't caught your name."

There is something dangerous in that voice, something sharp just under the surface.

"I haven't given it," Charles said. And he wasn't going to freely give it . When this was over, the man could find out who he was on his own, but it was best left with him not sharing things like that. He was dangerous. He had every intention of leaving him behind.

He watched him, still. Could he not see? He looked like he was grasping at the air.

He picked up his feet, and started towards him, running, going wide to go around him.

No, he couldn't see - that much was evident as he started running and the strange man froze, tilting his ear in Charles's direction instead of looking. For a moment, he was quiet...and then he sharply turned, proceeding after his new friend on surprisingly fleet feet. The lead pipe dragged beside him, making a horrible sound on the concrete.

"Now that's not very polite of you," he called out, voice distorting impossibly midway through. The grin was more of a grimace now, an animal's maw with teeth poised to take a bite out of flesh.

Charles was surprised by Kevin's speed. He kept glancing back at him, watching to make sure that he kept ahead of those feet. No, he supposed it wasn't very polite. That sound of the lead pipe got closer and closer as Charles ran. He turned a corner, panting. Oh no, this wasn't good. This was really not good. Closer and closer. Hide, he had to hide and be quiet.

When the footfalls ahead of him turned a corner, Kevin followed - and if they ceased, he stopped too, straining his senses to work out where the other man had gone.

The other man.

He still didn't know his name.

"Come on, friend, I just want to talk with you."

"I doubt that was what you want," Charles said, feeling Kevin getting close. He's breathing hard. It gets more challenging as time passes, between the fog and the pure exhaustion of spending extended periods of time int eh arena.

It's the breathing that's leading Kevin straight to Charles now - hearing honed by blindness makes him acutely aware of the other man's location. He draws nearer, his voice a warped singsong, his face a peeling mask of madness.

"Oh? What have I done to make you doubt me?"

A giggle erupts from the strange man - one that sounds very involuntary, almost desperate.

"Done? Nothing. But I know madness when I hear it," Charles answered. And he knew it was no secret that Kevin was crazy. He kept telling himself to catch his breath and move on. Keep moving. Keep running. But it was getting harder and harder. Kevin was going to catch up at some point - when exhaustion got Charles. Still, each step closer, he takes steps back. He wants to keep his distance.

Kevin isn't going to stop pursuing any time soon. He matches, step for step, teeth bared and saliva starting to dribble out between his teeth. He's losing himself. Part of him can feel it, but most of him doesn't care.

"...Madness? Why, I've never felt better, friend!"

Suddenly, he lunges into a run, attempting to close the distance.

The lunge and run is effective, and Charles is cornered. He doesn't have anywhere to run, and he thinks as quickly as possible over the things he could do next. Dive into the man? Run past. It worked so well the last time. He looked around for a weapon - something to use to defend himself.

This arena wasn't proving the easiest for him to pull from. "Shit," he cursed. Not too proud of his choice of words, but knowing full well that it didn't matter now. What would probably happen to him would be much worse than that.

The other man is stuck, and Kevin can tell - bloody hands shoot out in an attempt to grab and pin, the motion blind, but without hesitation.

He's coming at Charles very quickly, but doesn't seem ready to block, if a blow were to be struck.

Charles isn't fast or strong, and he knows it. Now, he's just bracing himself for the attacks that he's sure are going to take place. He flinches, but doesn't fight back. He's not really good for putting on the show that the Capitol seems to want.

He's pinned quickly, and he closes his eyes tight.

It's a gut reaction, instinct and fear driven more than anything else. He can't flee, but even then - his flight instinct still wins.

Contact is made - too-strong hands connect with Charles's shoulders, shoving him hard, leaving blood all over his clothes. He still doesn't know the man's name, but he does know one thing:

He's hungry.

Giggling, Kevin rears back...and then snaps his mouthful of pointed teeth at whatever they can reach.

Teeth meet flesh and Charles flinches and squirms, but Kevin is so much stronger than him. He doesn't flail, but he attempts to shove - move, wiggle away. "What the hell?!" Was this guy attempting to eat him?

The teeth meet flesh - and then they sink through it, taking out a chunk when the madman's head snaps back and away. He chews, he swallows, he lets blood dribble unchecked down his lip and chin.

Yes, Charles, he was attempting to eat you.

"...Mm....well, I may not know your NAME, friend, but now? I know what you taste like...."

"No," Charles shifts his body again, trying to squirm away. "I'm not giving my name to a psychopath." He just wasn't comfortable knowing that this person would know who he is after all of this is said and done. It perturbed him. He'll keep it to himself. And with his jacket having been taken in the first days, at the very least, he has no way to find out which district he was from, too.

Hands grip hard into Charles's collar, pulling him closer and than slamming him up against the wall again.

"I'M NOT ASKING FOR YOUR name ANYMORE, AM I?"

Crackle. Hiss. The scent of burning flesh from the back of his neck.

His body was breaking under the force. "I'm not telling my name." He may trust the wrong people, but he wasn't about to make this mistake. Charles wanted to separate himself from the situation. He forced his mind elsewhere. He needed to be away from the pain. He was as good as dead as it was, now.

"YOU'RE. NOT. LISTENING."

On each beat Charles is slammed into the wall. The man has become a maniac, smoke pouring out of his collar, skin peeling as his maw shifts from a grin to a snarl.

That grinning facade has been broken through to reveal the extent of the monster underneath.

He has stopped listening, for the most part. Or his ears are filling with blood. It's hard for him to tell. Each slam of his body into the wall hurts less and less, but by the last one, his head slams into the wall. He never imagined death would be this painful. His body stops moving, and he has no more fight. The last slam of his head had ca used him to slip from consciousnesses. Things went black.

Slam. Slam. Slam.

Then silence. Kevin pulls Charles close, listening for any signs of consciousness...and he finds none. He finds nothing but the scent of blood.

It smells delicious.

Letting out a little whimper of hunger, he hesitates only for a moment...before snapping his jaws shut on Charles's throat, gulping down the blood that gushes down his gullet.

Oh well. This man doesn't want to be friendly.

Waste not, want not.

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