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thearena2014-07-05 02:54 pm
gamemakers) wrote in thearena2014-07-05 02:54 pm
Entry tags:
The Finale!
Hell Arena ends, sending the arena back to it foggy self.
Except it doesn't stay that way for long.
Slowly it starts to heat up, although for the first several days the fog lingers, heavy and hot like at the start of the last hell arena.
Finally, on the second night it slowly vanishes, leaving a hot a humid night. But the night is not dark. With a sudden crack the city hums into power, the amusement park lights up, and the city looks for the first time, almost normal.
Except suddenly having power, after who know how long of not, is not necessarily the best idea. Fires starts to flare to life, small ones luckily, that strangely seem contained. The amusement park rides squeal and careen around on their own on rusty tracks. The roller coaster wobbles every time it goes around the curve over the city, and it's clearly only a matter of time before it goes right off the tracks.
And it's still heating up, slowly, but steadily.
On the third day, the cracks that have been threaded through out the arena, groaning and inching wider suddenly burst open. And now it is clear where the heat is coming from, as flames lick up, lava oozing up between the cracks. They grow in jagged jumps towards the city green, large pieces of town breaking off to fall into the cliffs below, others being trusted up high as the earth moves below them.
The messages is clear. The winner better make their kills soon or there won't be an arena to fight in.
Except it doesn't stay that way for long.
Slowly it starts to heat up, although for the first several days the fog lingers, heavy and hot like at the start of the last hell arena.
Finally, on the second night it slowly vanishes, leaving a hot a humid night. But the night is not dark. With a sudden crack the city hums into power, the amusement park lights up, and the city looks for the first time, almost normal.
Except suddenly having power, after who know how long of not, is not necessarily the best idea. Fires starts to flare to life, small ones luckily, that strangely seem contained. The amusement park rides squeal and careen around on their own on rusty tracks. The roller coaster wobbles every time it goes around the curve over the city, and it's clearly only a matter of time before it goes right off the tracks.
And it's still heating up, slowly, but steadily.
On the third day, the cracks that have been threaded through out the arena, groaning and inching wider suddenly burst open. And now it is clear where the heat is coming from, as flames lick up, lava oozing up between the cracks. They grow in jagged jumps towards the city green, large pieces of town breaking off to fall into the cliffs below, others being trusted up high as the earth moves below them.
The messages is clear. The winner better make their kills soon or there won't be an arena to fight in.
Closed to Bro - Night after Hellrena/Very End of Week 6 [cw: body horror]
It was frightening at first, of course. Realizing she'd sealed her own fate, however inadvertently. But after awhile, Homura decided, no. There was no need to be afraid. She'd welcome this death as she'd welcomed the others. After all, wasn't she already technically a monster to begin with? Hadn't she hurt Madoka again? Wasn't she going to die anyhow, no matter what she did?
So soon enough, she simply let go. She sloughed off what was left of her skin, and just began to walk. Looking. Waiting. Hoping. Hoping to find something to eat.
She wasn't Homura Akemi anymore.
She was just hungry.
OPEN to all - Amusement Park [CW: Body Horror, Serious Gore, Death]
There were two things that he did notice.
The first was that moment when his hunger had grown too much, and his mind had dipped into that tantalizing oblivion that he had been so precariously dangling above. There had been another snap at his arm (another, another, she had grown SO HUNGRY but he wouldn't, he wouldn't, not her, never her, she could bite him forever for all he cared), and - movement was the only thing that crossed his awareness.
When he had risen from the void, blinking blind eyes as if it could clear the haze in his mind, there was no movement anymore. Only shreds of cold flesh in aching teeth. Gone. Gone again. All gone. He noticed that, and it needled him deep inside, formed a knot in his throat that hurt more than the flesh that was by now charred black at the back of his neck.
He noticed that first thing, but he let himself lose it again, choosing blissful oblivion over the grief.
The second thing woke him from the oblivion again by force, shattering his world in a white-hot surge of agony. He had fallen to the ground where he had stood, clutching half-heartedly at his jaw and shrieking, high and inhuman and almost mechanical. For most, growing a mouth full of brand-new, sharpened teeth was a painful and terrifying endeavor.
For Kevin, the force of the new teeth growing in - longer and sharper than even his own had been before - very nearly split his head in two. Teeth jutted in above and below more teeth, piercing skin at weird angles and tearing his lips and cheeks to shreds. The agony grew so great, he had cried out through the distortion into the dark -
"HELP ME - MOTHE-"
Trying to form the words had been a mistake. Teeth jutting inward from the top of his mouth pierced straight through his tongue, mangling it, rendering speech impossible. His own blood poured down his throat.
It tasted good.
He had calmed.
He now limped blindly through the amusement park that had become his home base, saliva dribbling from a mouth impossible to close. One skeletal, filthy, grimy hand dragged behind him an arm no longer attached to anything, but still wearing a couple of bracelets beaded with bloodstone.
There would be no more 'hello, friend.' No more professionalism.
There was only a blind monster now, holding his "mother's" hand, the vague sound of static accompanying him wherever he went.
He was still smiling.
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But eventually he had become more monster than man, and didn't care about that. He wanted food. He was angry. Killing, in a way, had become cathartic. He felt insatiable in so many ways, so when he heard the yelling, he immediately set forth that way, his teeth bared in a very monster like way. He wasn't quite on the creepy level of Kevin, but he could still scare a child or two.
His knife was held in his hand, blood dried to it from previous encounters. This knife had served him well, and when he finally spotted the stepford smiler himself, Bro in his deranged state felt confident it would see another kill.
There was no reason for words, only action. With movements that were only vaguely human-like, he began running at Kevin with his knife raised.
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When he saw her, it wasn't even a decision- he would attack, no question to it. Maybe she had food. Maybe she could curb the burning hunger in him, somehow. He let out an almost feral noise, before running at her, his knife held tight in his hand as he prepared to slash her with it.
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Homura didn't have a knife, no. But she had a lead pipe, and she also swung her weapon to catch his with an angry snarl. He looked tasty, or at least, a threat to her getting something tasty. That was all she needed to know.
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He didn't think the lead pipe would do much against him, and if he were in his right mind he would be laughing at the image in front of him. Anyone who brought a pipe to a knife fight was just asking to die.
When the two of them were close enough, he dropped into a roll, sliding past her before turning around quickly so that he could slash at her back. Monster or not, he still remembered his moves and he wasn't to be underestimated.
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He sniffed the air, anticipating his meal.
Dinnertime, he thought vaguely, crouching, ready to pounce.
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But he was too busy participating in it. Kevin wasn't the first one to pounce, either. When Bro was close enough, he lunged at him with every intention of tackling him to the ground so that he could stab him in the face repeatedly. That was his long term goal, anyway. But first he needed to successfully tackle.
The Death of Shaggy (tw: not-cannibalism)
His skin's fallen off, his hair's fallen off, even his stubble, there's nothing really Shaggy about him now. Maybe that means he's not Shaggy. Maybe this is Norville.
He remembers that weird grey girl, the one he killed, the one he hadn't meant to kill but she had him at the edge of the cliff and the only thing he thought of to do was spray the bugspray in her face and she'd died like a bug and he hadn't meant to do that and he remembers her lying there on the ground and when he pictures it he starts to drool, all that meat, he's so hungry.
Out of the corner of his eye he can see the dog pack, sees the one in front that looks different from the others, a Great Dane, Scoob. He thought he lost him.
He looks delicious.
Norville-Shaggy runs forward, glistening white arms open, towards the corpse-creature with the face of his oldest friend.
The dogs leap.
He's torn apart.
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Leading with his shoulder into the blow, he snarled like the volume knob being turned up and then down again. At best he would bowl Bro over with the unexpected move. At worst he would fall. Somewhere in the middle, they would both go down and have to regroup.
But he wasn't going to stand there and take it, one way or another.
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The surprise turned to anger quickly enough, but his knife had fallen out of his grip when he was bowled over, so all he could do was reach up and wrap his hands around Kevin's throat, trying to get a good grip on him to choke him.
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Of course, even when he WASN'T a terrible gray monster, Kevin was accustomed to the traditional Desert Bluffs hug - a strong grip around the neck that meant someone was just SO GLAD to see you. He didn't seem to notice that he was being choked, one hand bracing him over Bro's body, the other coming to rest on top of his forehead in an effort to hold his head still.
Blood dribbled down from his overstuffed jaw, falling in thick, sickly splotches against his opponent's face and neck.
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Instead, she swung again. Surely now...if not, she knew, she'd just keep swinging, again, and again, and again, and...round and round and round...
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Hungry.
So hungry.
Food.
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But he took a good chunk out of him, and his grip is slacking on Kevin's neck. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he's fucked, but he's gonna try to push Kevin off oh him anyway, with a heavy, pained grunt.
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He can feel the grip around his neck loosening, the shoves against him weakening, and he knows his prey is almost gone. He rears back and then snaps forward again for another chomp, lapping hungrily at the blood and flesh. Animal.
Blindly, he gulps down everything he can get into his mouth.
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It only takes one more successful bite for Bro to know that this is over. How he managed to lose, he doesn't know. It's all a big blur and now he's about to die for the second time in his life. Great. But this is at least better than the first time in that he's not really himself.
His grip on Kevin is let go entirely, his arms falling to the ground at his sides as his vision goes in and out. He lets out grunts and moans of pain, but even those die down eventually as his vision blurs completely and the life in him fades as Kevin devours him.
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Kevin keeps rearing back and snapping forward until he feels the life go out of Bro, the movement and struggle ceasing below him. He scuttles back for a moment, crouched there to gather himself, catch his breath, foul, hot air whistling through teeth and shreds of sinew.
But it isn't long before he goes back to eating his prize for a fight well-met, the low rumble of static almost like a purr in his chest.