thearena | Mini Arena 2

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Mini Arena 2

Tributes are woken early, and the hovercraft ride is a long one. Not the longest some have experienced, but they are clearly going far.

25 - 24 - 23

They land on the deck of the boat, and are ushered underneath, to the lower levels, quickly. Their stylists go from cabin to cabin, decking them out in over the top finery, before loading them into the pods installed into the corners of the rooms.

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The platforms lift them up, and they are all ringed around a grand buffet table, loaded with a grand feast looking ready to sag down from the weight. Among the food are supplies, plenty of them, all for the taking.

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They've all been warned, don't step off your pedestal early. They have also been warned to put on a good show. That's all this is about, a good show. None of them have been told that there can be multiple winners this time around.

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3

2

The sound of the gong plays crystal clear across the opening. The games have begun.

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As soon as the first Tribute touches the cornucopia, there is huge blast that rocks the boat to the side, tilting the ground at a severe angle, before settling back down to normal.

The whole ship is rocked, chandelier crashing and the furniture tilting and sliding. More than a small amount of the tables swag slips off and towards to side of the ship that tips down.

When the ship resettles, the lights flicker, before going out in the dining room. Water can be heard near by.

Better get moving.

The ships sinks straight down for several hours, the lower levels (including the dining room) filling up slow and steady.

Unfortunately, at some point the weight becomes to much. The stern starts to sink down, sending the bow up, slowly, as it fills faster than the rest.

It's a miracle Dave made it this far. It was all on a wing and a prayer and his brother saving his skinny ass good and proper. There was a brief glimmer of hope that they'd make it through together, but in the second Dave had lagged behind Bro he'd caught up to find some asshole kicking him overboard.

He'd fought him, obviously. His hits had been frantic and full of fear and rage that he rarely gave into. He doesn't know how far he would have taken it if he hadn't heard a yell in the distance. He'd told the motherfucker to wait until next time and hightailed it up that little bit further to search for the source of the sound. His parkour is sloppy and clumsy, he's honestly more rattled and dizzy than he'd like to admit. He's relieved when he sees yellow approaching and he pulls himself up the last stretch to sprint over. The bruises slowly forming match the purple of his suit and it's obvious he's been in a fight.

Without his shades, his eyes are wide, red and a stark contrast to his hair. It's hard to look as reserved and calm without them, but it's not important. Fuck being quiet, he's calling out before he's quite made it over.

"THE ROOM SERVICE HERE IS AWFUL." He yells loud so his voice carries over the wind, he's climbing closer carefully with a discreetly hopeful sensation welling in his chest.

Edited 2014-07-24 16:43 (UTC)

[Clementine was his priority and he lost her after the first couple hours. He told her a number of times that getting on deck was important, away from the stern, but boats are mazes and he has no idea if she's found a way out. So, he puts off getting to the deck, searching the boat as thoroughly as he can, checking rooms, even heading towards the stern a number of times, looking for her.

It doesn't stop him from helping anyone he comes across. She might have been his priority, but he can't leave anyone who needs aid. They're all in this mess together - if only they could work together too.

But the boat is filling with water, slowly tilting more and more as the stern gets pregnant with water. He knows what eventually happens - he was from a time that the Titanic was fresh, a recent disaster, even traveled by boat with the USO - and if there is any hope of his own survival, he can't linger below deck for too long or he'll get trapped.

Still, he pushes it.

Too far if you count his run in with a shark nearing the four hour mark.]

Sigma was lost. Without a map, this Arena was effectively a maze: it was not so easy to navigate to the top of this particular cruise-liner. Some stairwells were soldered shut at upper decks, forcing the Tribute farther down... others lead readily to the upper floor, but emptied not onto the decks, but sealed luxury spaces: dead ends. Deep within the bowels of the ship, Sigma decided to head towards the bow at all costs. His cybernetic 'enhancements' a liability here, he focused on getting as far away from the water as he could and prayed there would be a stairwell headed upwards waiting for him at his destination.

Now the Doctor was running out of time, and the floor (still level, fortunately or unfortunately) he'd found himself stuck in began to take on water. The ankle-deep waves traveled faster than him, coating dry floor ahead, and Sigma quickened his pace. Now approaching the nose, Sigma found himself inside a grand theatre... perhaps there would be a staff emergency escape behind the stage. He descended down the rows of seats and began his search.

It had taken a little time, but Albert finally located Cecil despite the flickering lights and keening of the ship. Jet, of course, he'd lost in the chaos after their brief wordless exchange on the pedestals, but Cecil had been his first priority in this arena regardless. He feels the need to protect the former radio host; they owe him a debt for exposing what he'd found and the government Avoxing him and tossing him in an arena only compounded that what he'd reported was correct.

So Albert will protect him, possibly try and help him to win as the German's own brand of defiance. After all, what would stick in the Capitol's craw more than their own pariah becoming a Victor?

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Cornucopia+Explosion