ARENA 11-PaneMall

[etcircenses]

It’s pre-dawn when the Tributes are roused from their beds and sent to their tubes. Those who’d been imprisoned for the past few weeks had their heads covered before transport to the staging area, and there’s an air of confusion surrounding just about everything that’s happening until the stylists and managers arrive on the scene and try to calm everyone down. The reunions may be happy, but they're sadly very temporary.

The first clue that something strange is happening comes from their clothing: figure skating costumes with bright colors and sequins and ice skates strapped to their feet. Some may even find it difficult to stand with the blades on their feet, but as they're placed into the arena, all becomes clear. The mall skating rink seems quiet and quaint, especially after weeks of uncertainty and stress. Too bad the peace and quiet can’t last.

20

19

18...

Above the ice rink (which houses all 100+ Tributes) there are floors with shops looking over them. Large, bright fluorescent lights dot the multi-storied ceiling and create a warm, nostalgic glow to the place. Benign music is piped in from various hidden speakers to compliment the intended mood of fun and commerce.

17

16

15…

The countdown continues and the Tributes, some of whom haven’t seen each other in weeks, stare at one another helplessly. That is, until one of them boldly decides to speak.

"We're expected to fight here today," Steve's voice suddenly cuts through the tension in the room. It commands attention without demanding it, a conviction of truth in his tone.

14

13

12...


"To turn on each other through fear and self preservation. And we could give them what they want. A bloodbath," here he pauses longer, lets the reality of his statements sink in. Let people realize what he's saying, that this is a choice.

"Or we can choose not to fight. To instead work together," an option so many seem not to even realize they have. "No one here has to die by our hands today," he knows his speaking won't be without consequence, but he does want to believe he'll be the only one to pay for this.

"This is a risk. One many of you are hesitant to trust, let alone take. But everything we do here is a risk to ourselves and those around us," nothing in the arena comes without putting your life on the line.

"I, for one, am willing to take this risk, to choose not to fight," Steve looks around the room, making eye contact with a few people as he does. He's not telling anyone what to do, this is for them to decides for themselves; their freedom of choice.

But he's got faith in the his fellow tributes. "And I've got a feeling I'm not alone.”

… 3

2

1…

After the countdown ends, there’s a moment of utter still and silence. Then...

BOOOOOOOOOOOM

The room seems to erupt with noise and concussive force. The explosions are so violent that the muzak is paused in its tracks and shakes some of the Tributes off of their pedestals, and after the ice fog and smoke clears, it becomes apparent that fifteen of the Tribute pedestals and exploded there on the ice rink. Fifteen corpses lie mangled on the bloody ice: Deanna Winchester, Danny Fenton, Fili, Kili, Kain Highwind, Perry Kelvin, Julian Bashir, Clint Barton, Karkat Vantas, Sirius Black, Rahm Kota, Cinderella, Bunnymund, Robin, Rock Lee, and Rokk Krin.

The center of the ice rink remains completely intact and stocked with a few dozen keys of varying shapes and sizes. This is the Cornucopia and the Gamemakers are compelling the Tributes to skate for it.

The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces “The Arena is now open.” The Games have begun.

Comments

CORNUCOPIA

[etcircenses]

Steve Rogers || Open!

[aboveangrybees]

The explosions make Steve's heart skip a beat, then another when he sees it wasn't him. His chest tightens in anger at seeing people - innocent people as well as people he knew, liked even - killed for his actions and words. Words that some of those killed might not have cared to follow. He had hoped that maybe only he'd suffer for this, but he knew deep down that it was a fool's hope. As the explosions sound and bathe the area in blood, he's not surprised, just upset by the turn of events. He keeps the majority of his anger tucked away for now, so while visibly he's upset, he stays calm. Level headed.

Keep strong.

And the arena starts.

Steve almost holds his breath in anticipation of what's about to happen, just how many will abstain from fighting and how many will try to take advantage of it. How much more blood will be shed.

Moving from his spot, Steve skates onto the ice with relative ease despite the bruising along his side and ribs that his outfit clearly shows. But it's his face that's in the worst visible condition; his right eye healing from a black eye and below it a brand that once clearly resembled the Capitol insignia, but has been abused enough to be torn and distorted.

He doesn't move for the keys yet, he waits, but when time has passed, he sees the actions people decide to take, he'll move forward and pick up one that's slid away from the rest of the pile.

((OOC: I welcome anyone to come attack Steve or get into an argument with him for what he's done. To be forewarned, there's a high possibility that some of his close CR will want to step in to his defense.))

[shenunigans]

You know you've reached a low point when you're grateful for the start of the Arenas. Dave barely even knew he'd be back for them, but here he is, head to toe in sequins and gearing up to fight. A mall. Really. He feels almost in his element. Right now, anything is better than the depressing monotony of prison. Just glancing around he can see people he needs to touch base with, if only for a second, along with people he dearly needs to punch in the face.

He tunes in late to Steve's speech, but it resonates with him all the same. He's a little too exhausted to properly whoop or whatever, which is why he almost thinks he imagined it when the first person explodes. Well damn, they find new ways to disgust him every day. His heart is in his throat when Steve continues, he could be next, anyone could be next. Sure as that, Karkat is gone and people he'd passed in the halls are going poof like the fucking worst kind of fairies.

By the time it's all over, his ears are ringing and he's looking gormless in his expression as he sets himself down on the ice. He has no desire to go for the keys, he just needs to find people. He wobbles a little as he approaches with caution, making beelines for people he knows in his stupid fucking outfit.

[seestheman]

Clara's got a slight burn on her right arm from the explosions along with a few cuts and already looks a little worse for the wear. But at the moment, none of that matters because Dave's right there and god it's good to see him again. With the skill and grace of someone who's obviously spent their formative years learning how to ice skate, Clara makes her way over to Dave and envelops him in a tight hug.

She doesn't say a word, because really, there's nothing she can say, so she just holds him close and rubs his back in small circles as if testing to make sure he's actually here.

OTA!

[aintyourdad]

By this point, Joel knows the drill. Dragged from his bed, taken to the staging area, blah blah blah. He keeps his head down and his mouth shut, even as they force him into an absurd outfit open at the chest, as though to show off some of his scars (and the chest hair, natch). Goddammit, Jolie.

The ice skates are the more concerning thing, though. He's got pretty good balance, though he was never really a skater. He worries about Ellie, though, especially as the podiums rise and, sure enough, it's a great big goddamn skating rink. In a mall. Well, that solves that question - of whether to run the gauntlet to the cornucopia, that is. A mall should have plenty of supplies for those who know where to look, no point risking himself. Hopefully the others will feel the same, so they can all find each other and get someplace safer, unscathed.

Then Steve starts talking, and Joel flinches. Goddammit, what are you doin'? he thinks, glancing at the younger-looking guy with the clear eyes and the chiseled jaw and the straight spine. There is gonna be some kind of retaliation for this, Joel just knows it. He doesn't expect it to come so immediately, though, and when the explosions ring out, he instinctively crouches down, covering himself for protection. Fuck.

Did they get Ellie? Did they get Tess? As the chaos of the start of a new arena begins, Joel lurches toward the edge of the skating rink, his eyes watering with dust and debris from the explosions. Come on, ladies, help me out here Don't be dead.

[earthborn]

Shepard is a limping, bleeding mess. But she doesn't seem to care; most arenas she's fast and wary, deadly as now she walks with an economy of motion that doesn't imply coiled power so much as a joint injury. Her skates are off to serve as makeshift knives, but one hand in swollen and discolored, clearly broken. Her progress is slow, her gaze murderous, and if she doesn't have someone in better shape sitting in the wings to watch her back, then she's vulnerable as hell.

But she makes it off the ice without being killed or even injured--more than she already was. It all takes time. Time for the tributes to scatter, for the keys to be snatched up, for a lot of people to stand around making conversation, making plans. Her face is a mess of swelling and bruises, the brand a scabby scar that clips her right eyebrow from above, as if someone had pressed it to the center of her forehead, then slid it several cruel centimeters while Shepard's skin fried.

"Hey," She sounds about as tired as she looks, and it's only with effort that Jane can sit rather than fall onto the lowest of the plastic benches in the rink's stadium, "Uh... nice shirt."

Between the ruffles and the reflective tape circuits, maybe she's not one to talk.

Bruce Banner | OTA

[honeyibrokeharlem]

Bruce had expected the retaliation. He had expected the blood and the bits of flesh and hair and the trembling in the ground. He had also expected Steve to be part of the carnage, and it was a small blessing that he wasn't.

Captain America had proven his courage once again. That, Bruce had also expected. Unfortunately, it was in an unavoidably public manner, and they would all pay the consequences if they listened to him.

Bruce would listen to him, though. He didn't care about Capitol consequences. His scars showed that.

His hands and arms are a mess. Bright red, swollen, blistering in places. The stylist had almost thrown up at the sight and quickly covered it with the ugliest skating costume, but it doesn't sparkle, so at least he has that going for him. He skates off of his platform, giving the Cornucopia a wide berth and keeping an eye out for wounded or overtly aggressive people. He needs medical attention, but he's one of the few doctors in the arena, so he needs to make sure everyone else is standing too.

He has no visible reaction to the bodies, though he does put in effort to avoid skating over the remains. Whether it's to avoid obstructions in the ice or out of genuine respect is not immediately clear.

[risewithit]

Ice skating. Skye's been ice skating maybe three, four times in her life; certainly never often enough or long enough to develop any real skill. And it's not like SHIELD ever thought it was relevant to train a level one agent in moving on bladed boots on ice because, really, what level one agent is going to be doing anything remotely in the vicinity of that.

She can keep herself on her feet as she moves, and that's about all that's to be said for her skill.

The problem here is the debris from the explosions, rubble and chunks of ice and human remains that make a flat sheet of ice into an obstacle course. She tries to swerve to miss a hole and suddenly finds herself wheeling in the wrong direction, right towards someone else. She barely has time to register an impression of dark hair and light skin before she's grabbing onto him for balance and hoping against hope that he won't kill her.

Nasir | Open

[calledmenasir]

Nasir would have been more moved had Steve's speech been given not at the start of the arena or at any stage of it. They were completely at the Gamemakers' mercy here. The thought proved true when the explosions started. Nasir tensed, sure that his podium would be the next but he was safe. The new brand on his face and the torture he'd been through must have been punishment enough.

Nasir glared at Steve. Shit eating fool.

As soon as the countdown ended, Nasir started tearing at his ice skates. He'd watched as the stylists put it on so he had an idea of how to get them off. He knew that he could barely walk in them. He also knew that the cornucopia held nothing of worth this time. He was getting out of here.

As soon as the ice skates were off, he grabbed them in his hands and slid barefoot over the ice, intent on making a break for it. He glanced over his shoulder to find Gannicus but he wasn't following.

[69problems]

The only thing on the Signless's mind was getting away from the cornucopia as fast as possible. Much like Nasir he removed his skates first thing, tossed them aside. He'd have no use for them, let them get in some other tribute's way. He kept moving until he was safely off the ice and a good enough distance away that the sounds of the cornucopia were distant and indistinct.

Only then did he lean heavily against the nearest wall. There were people he should have found and he knew he was going to regret not doing so later, but right now all he could think about was bits of Karkat splattered across the ice. All that time spent protecting him, all the pains taken to make sure he didn't know about the jailbreak and couldn't possibly be hurt or held accountable, wasted.

Wasted because some asshole had decided that now -- at the start of an arena, after everything that had been going on -- was the perfect time to win himself points for being noble. How could he not have expected such fierce and immediate backlash? It was reasonable to assume their captors would be overly-sensitive to any anti-capitol talk right now and would want to shut it down decisively. He must have known he'd just be getting other people killed.

The more he thought about it the angrier he got. He didn't even immediately notice someone else approaching, he was that wrapped up in it.

[actually112]

Aang didn't know what was happening. Seriously, he had no idea. He had been told he was supposed to fight these people to the death? Why would he do that?

All he knows is that his bending is gone. He tried to bend at the men in armor, and he couldn't. His chi was all blocked up. He had been brought to some kind of fashion designer who had made him an outfit, and then had been forced to hastily re-make it as something closer to a robe than a dress. Apparently, the stylist had expected a girl.

He doesn't recognize any of the other people. A lot of them don't even look like any kind of human he's seen, with yellow hair or round eyes or green skin. Some of them weren't any kind of human at all.

But one person--a man with yellow hair and Water Tribe eyes, even though he doesn't have any other Tribesman features--talked to all of them. Aang doesn't know why they would need talking to in the first place (aren't they just going to refuse to fight? What is making them fight?), but it touches him anyway, because it reminds him of Katara and all the other brave men and women he'd seen stand up for what is right.

And then the explosions happen. He realizes why they would feel forced to fight.

He looks down at the blood, at the mangled bodies. It's horrible. It's nauseating.

But it's not the first time he's seen it.

He gracefully skates off of his platform. People all around the rink are hugging each other. They're not going to let the explosions make them fight. He won't either.

So he skates to the nearest person and gives them a big hug. Have fun with the random bald, tattooed, seemingly Tibetan boy, stranger.

[hit_girl_mindy]

Mindy was aiming for some booty (not THAT kind), so, of all things, the last thing she expected was to grabbed by her midsection, and she was about to stomp the guy when she realized he wasn't trying to slow her down.

No, he was....fuck her, was he actually HUGGING her?

She gave him a stare, clearly astounded. "Uh, baldy, what about this situation makes you think hugs and kisses are the right way to go? Do you WANT to end up like these guys?"

Oh, and you can see she might have fell on the wrong side of the Capitol's bed, what with the swollen eye and Capitol tatoo mark on her face.

open;

[soldieronwards]

He has no illusions when he's pulled out of his cell, his eyes and ears covered, or he thinks he has no illusions, anyway. Bucky's waiting for the firing squad at that point, prepared to lash out and defend himself to his dying breath the moment he gets the opportunity. Of course they're executing him. What else could be happening at a time like this?

"What else" is the Arena, naturally. It finally sinks in when he sees a stylist attaching emerald-studded leaf-shaped magnets to his left arm: he's not being killed here. He's being sent to do some killing instead.

The mix of relief and terrified disgust that washes over him brings bile to the back of his throat.

That relief is long gone by the time Steve starts speaking at the Cornucopia, and at that point, it's easily enough replaced by dread. He tenses on his podium, calculating how easily he can make it to Steve on ice skates (ice skates! Can the stylists' ideas get any stupider?) to protect him from the inevitable consequences of this act of rebellion.

As it turns out, though, there's no point to his calculations. The Gamemakers know Steve too well. They don't target him in revenge--they make others the victims, and Steve the target.

Bucky would curse violently at the sight of it, at seeing people he knows so instantly killed (when did Barton get here? Too late now to ask), but that would be a waste of time. Instead, he's kicking out a foot to propel himself backwards off the ice, where he can swiftly yank off the ice skates and regain his balance; he's assessing the situation around Steve Rogers, trying to figure out how best to defend the man.

After only a bare moment granted to himself to evaluate his next course of action, he rips the blades out of his skates and starts back towards the Cornucopia. He's not interested in the keys now, or the fact that he's wearing a brown leotard with glittery green sequins on it and a sparkly sash, or even the fact that he's already bruised and weary himself. He just wants to take cold metal to the throat of anyone who threatens Steve Rogers.

Bucky has taken two steps forward on this path when he catches Steve's eye. When Steve pointedly glances around him, to all the people dazed from the explosions--on top of existing injuries from torture and jailhouse beatings.

Bucky stops, then. He nods, just slightly. Steve's going to be busy dealing with the fallout of that speech, so someone else has to take on his job of helping.

He drops his makeshift knives and turns to see who needs a helping hand the most.

[assassinat]

[ Reaching a hand out towards the wrong person could cost a man that arm, but when he's already short of one, what does he have to fear? Not much, save for the look in Natasha's eyes. Everything about this situation tempts her to spring into action, to take the step beyond killer and to become an outright murderer just in order to drown out other thoughts.

If she's bothered in any way from the explosion, it doesn't show. Her ears aren't immune and while she's fortunate she no longer has to hear that incessant beat of song anymore, the ringing that's replaced it only adds to her accumulated pain. With no further hesitation, she moves beyond him still on her skates (and somehow able to keep up her graceful appearance) to approach one of the bodies.

It isn't hard to guess which one. ]

[ open ]

[risewithit]

It's not the first time Skye's had some faceless evil government toolbag shove a bag over her head, but she's more scared now than she was when SHIELD took her. At least with SHIELD, she'd been able to gamble they weren't going to kill her and dump her body (yet). The peacekeeper who leads her along is rougher than necessary; she wonders if she's the one she mocked during her interrogation. Her jaw still aches from where he punched her, and she's sure it's vivid black and blue.

When the bag comes off and she finds she's in the staging area with her pit crew, it's almost a relief. Of course they're not going to summarily execute her; why do that when they can put on a show? The outfit they get her into is revolting, and the skates--shit. She is so going to break an ankle, and then she'll be easy pickings.

And then she's in the Arena.

She feels small for a moment, helpless, her mind spinning out into a thousand places at once as she thinks of her team and this fucked-up mess she's gotten into and if she dies here she might die for real this time with no miracle alien drug to save her, and she'll have let Coulson down so bad. But she reaches for her clarity, centers herself, and the world stops spinning and coalesces into solidity just as Captain America starts talking. And just for a moment, she's grinning at the bald-faced audacity of it.

The explosions shake the smile from her face and send her reeling, and she looks around wildly, taking in the prone forms of dead tributes to the haze, others rushing to the center or away, and she drags herself to shaky feet and gets the hell out of dodge as fast as her awful skating skills can get her.

[arrogantalloy]

As Tony was skating around, clearly practiced at what he was doing, he noticed Skye while checking out all the familiar faces to make sure everyone he knew was okay.

Not that he'd admit that.

"Everytime we see each other, you're in something brightly coloured." He announced as he glides up to her looking amused. At least with the mining district he's really just wearing black... With diamontes making him sparkle.

[worldsaway]

Oddly enough Thor feels almost at home in his outfit. The mall and rink, however, were unfamiliar to him. He's felt defeated lately, exhausted from the lack of power and influence he has here. Being the last Avenger he knew in the Tower made him feel almost as if he had failed to rise to the challenge, despite knowing it was for the better. He doesn't want to be in the Arena by any means, but he knows he can fight and protect. He can do some good here, and he looks forward to it.

Thus, Steve's speech resonates with him quite well. It's enough to pull a smile on his lips, though his fists remain clenched at his sides. When it comes to a point, he can't help raising his fist in approval, but he soon drops it when the explosions begin. It's the morbid reaction he expected of them, and he pities the souls inflicted by their hatred. There is a small amount of pleasure in it, at least, because they're scared. They make it all too obvious and it's satisfying.

However, they won't be the only ones acting rashly out of fear. Steve has made himself a target and Thor is hoisting himself onto the ice and sliding forward with a surprising amount of grace for someone his size in order to make sure nobody takes it out on him. He has a look of warning about him, but he's also going to reach out and grab the shoulders of people he's familiar with. He might go so far as to draw you into a hug if you look as if you need it. More than anything he wants to show that compassion and care is alive, that they are more than machines of war. Something as simple as a hug is powerful at a time like this, Steve has given them a wonderful opportunity to express this.

[fiercestwarrior]

It is a relief to find Thor whole, and she can see in the way he carries himself that for all the indignity of their current position, here at least is a place where he feels as if he has some purpose.

She makes her way towards him as fast as she can, which in retrospect turns out to be something of a mistake since she isn't all that familiar with ice skating and so when it comes to slowing down she does have a general sort of idea about how to accomplish it, but doing it with any amount of grace turns out to be not entirely doable.

"Thor!"

She calls out to get his attention before she is at his side, grabbing hold of his shoulder to have something to steady herself with and so ending up swiveling around to more or less slam herself into his chest.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you one of the fiercest warriors in all of Asgard. You may call her Bambi.

OTA

[unconchonable]

Through the entirety of Steve's speech, Eridan looked utterly unamused, and unimpressed. What should have been, and probably was, a rousing speech for those more inclined to peacefulness, just seemed stupid to the sea troll. It was terribly cliche`, he thought, and he had to roll his eyes.

If it were so simple to just resist killing each other, if their captors didn't have ways to force brutality between, then why hadn't anyone done this sooner? if it were so easy, why were they even stuck doing this at all? It was ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as the outfit he was stuck in.

... And then the tributes, as if on cue, exploded. Eridan would have been amused by it all. By that show of power, the blatant and perfectly timed 'fuck you' - but then he realized that one of the exploded parties was Karkat.

That? That wasn't okay.

He was in an odd place, somewhere between anger and anguish, even if he was covering up the latter with the former. He stared at the corpses littering the arena with a forced indifference, his eyes flicking to Karkat's every once in a while. He felt as though there was lead in his throat, and while he scanned the crowd to see who else might have been killed (please not Feferi), he was relieved, in a bittersweet sort of way, that Karkat was the only troll. Though he wouldn't have had his complaints had it been a yellow or teal smear across the ice.

Seeing that Feferi was fine, Eridan made his effort to get off the ice... in a display less than dignified. Hell if he knew how to skate, but he certainly was trying. Eventually, once at the bank of the rink, he took his skates off, keeping them in his hands as he gave the rink one last look over, before heading away from it.

He needed to find somewhere that might have had a change of clothes, because the only other tragedy besides Karkat's untimely (and explosive) demise, was this godawful getup.

Re: OTA

[carnagecarnival]

By Carlos's orders, he's searching for a place to hide. He's not sure exactly where to go. The place is a huge and he hasn't forgotten what the gamemakers like to do to tributes who stay in one place too long. Is there anywhere to hide?

Perhaps before, he'd have gone about a different way, no need to hide when he could fight and cull and defend himself easy. But an avox does not fight and an avox most certainly doesn't harm a tribute.

Still wearing the skates and skating suit patterned like glowing armor, but without none of the perks of padding or any protective qualities whatsoever, he makes his way. It would be easier to remove the skates but he is almost certain he is not allowed to do so of his own will-- a thing which is not supposed to exist. His hair is short, he's without paint, the dud-fins show, and he hasn't a single bit of anything in him to be anything but an obedient non-person.

Obviously, he's a prime target.

Open to all!!

[bunnybrat]

As she rose in the tube, Chibi-Usa couldn't help but marvel at her outfit, it was cut there was no denying that at all. The skates were a worry however, she's not exactly a graceful mover, once she reaches the top she looks around, seeing everyone some of whom she hadn't seen since the arrests, making her a mixture of relieved but still worried, then she hears a voice over the countdown.

Chibi-Usa listens to Steve as he speaks his peace about not wanting anyone to fight, she nods as he talks agreeing with him on working together instead of fighting.

And then there's explosions. With a surprised shout Chibi-Usa covers her ears and squats in place, she's not at all good on skates and if she wasn't so distracted she'd marvel at the fact she didn't fall over. She stays squatting and remains tense for a few seconds until she hears the sounds around her, looking up and slowly raising herself, she sees the bodies laying everywhere.

She looks horrified up until she sees what's left of Bunny and screams as she covers her mouth, finally falling over on the ice from moving strangely. Tears are running down her face as she says over and over again

"This isn't happening."

Re: Open to all!!

[hit_girl_mindy]

THERE SHE IS.

So there was one other person Mindy had been gunning for. Yes, she wanted to see Ellie and Riley and Clem and Donatello and all of them, but there was someone who shouldn't be here, someone she'd been concerned about the moment she laid eyes on her in the Training arena. Chibi Usa would find herself taken by the hand by Mindy, who was not going slow about this.

"Yes it is, kid. Let's get..." She stopped a moment at the body.

Bunnymund. The only one who stood up for Guy when they took him, who she'd talked to herself. She sword loud, closing her eyes a moment, then turned.

"Don't look," she said, her voice not breaking. "They mean business. Trust me, I learned first hand."

She had the brand to prove it.

[onthelii2p]

For all his dread of the arena to come, Sollux still felt surprised when it finally happened. There hadn't been enough warning, and he didn't know what to expect, and god, he was going to have to fight or die or kill or something he felt vastly, vastly unprepared for. The one comfort was that he couldn't hear the voices anymore. They were constant before, but having to hear all who were going to die in the Hunger Games was more than he could stand to think about.

And what was with the costumes? Sollux found himself stuck in some godawful, orangey-brown monstrosity, but worse were the skates. He'd never skated in his life, much less on ice, and it was a struggle just to stay upright. Once on his pedestal, sent up into the arena, the only thing that managed to keep him from falling was an awkward stance of bracing his knees against each other. He wanted to kneel, but didn't want to risk falling off from the movement.

Even then, he couldn't stop from looking around. He needed to know his surroundings if he wanted to know where to go, but the sheer number of other tributes distracted him first. There were so many, more than he realized, more than he could ever hope to recognize (which he very, very much didn't). And - some asshole was giving a speech? The sound reached him, drifting in, but he paid it no more mind than it demanded by hitting his ears. Something about solidarity - it sounded stupidly hopeful.

Worse was the countdown. That held him, drawing up his dread as it ticked down closer and closer. On the two his eyes caught on a pair of short, stubby horns; one it counted again, then silence...

Then explosion. Before Sollux could process everything, could fully wonder when the hell Karkat got here or why he never spoke to him, his friend blew up in full view. It was only a second later that the rumbling aftershock sent him tumbling face-first to the ice.

From there he wasted no time. No time to mourn, no time to question, and he didn't even bother to get to his feet. Instead he set to crawling across the ice, shuffling on hands and knees as quick as he could, even as he cursed the cold of it. He needed out of the rink now.

[voodoocarnival]

Confusion at the outfits was followed by confusion at the skates, and the tubes and pedestals, and finally by the arena itself being, on first glance, an actual skating arena.

Of course it was bigger than that on a second sweep, but the initial thought of a deathmatch with so many people and half of them flailing around on the skates like decapitated cluckbeasts was amusing enough to distract from the countdown, from the speech, for a few moments, at least.

The last several moments were spent scanning the other tributes for any familiar faces. Sure, he'd holed up in his room fairly exclusively after the fiasco of an "investigation" but the potential for there being people he knew here, too, was enough to get Kurloz looking for them.

And then the explosion hit, and he wasn't quite sure anymore if he wanted people he knew to be here after all, but he still scanned the (now more horrified faces) a bit quicker for someone, anyone.

Double horns, bicolored eyes, a clumsy fall right onto the face and that wasn't his yellowblooded idiot (Messiah bless), but it was close enough, and he was crawling, so clearly he needed help.

With little more thought than that, Kurloz was off his pedestal, gliding over the ice around blasted out pieces and chunks of people he would never know while avoiding so much as glancing at the details - no checking for grey skin or splatters of color or broken horn, not when he had to get that idiot off his hands and knees as soon as possible.

And maybe the tunnel vision was serving as a distraction.

Still, he slid to a stop in front of the crawling troll and crouched down in front of him, tried to appear as nonthreatening as a highblood could manage in a deathmatch, offering his hands palm-up for Sollux to take.

Pansy Parkinson ; OPEN

[pansyp]

Pansy feels oddly detached from reality at the moment. She was ushered from the eternally confusing trial she had to endure straight into a salon, where a team of people dressed like the most bizarre colorful birds flitted around her, cutting and styling her hair, stripping her out of her clothes and forcing her into a likewise strangely bird-like outfit, complete with coal-black feathers and incredibly tacky rhinestones. The figure skates they shoved on her feet, however, were familiar.

Shoved into a small tube with the barest-bones of explanation, Pansy is very much surprised to find herself in some kind of giant building with a rink of beautifully flat ice when the tube lifts her up through the ground, though she's careful to keep her expression still. The music is hardly even registering at all, since all Pansy can hear are the words of her stylist, replaying themselves in a loop in her mind.

There can only be one victor.

Whatever tortures He Who Must Not Be Named could think up for his followers and their families, they definitely paled in comparison to what she was being told she must do today. And without her wand! She can hardly think about anything else, too aware of the emptiness in her hand, of the loss of that quiet thrum she's felt in her skin her whole life, a thrum she didn't even know she felt until it was gone. Is this what it feels like to be a Muggle?

A countdown starts, and she feels her heartbeat leap, adrenalin flooding her system and making her breath come short. Although that speech given by the tall blond man almost has her rolling her eyes — what a fool, even she can tell that they are utterly at the whims of whoever it was that put them here, and if they wanted them to fight then that's what they'd have to do — Pansy manages to restrain herself, pointedly wrenching her thoughts away from Potter and how much she's reminded of him in this moment.

And then...the explosions.

Some of the people around her throw themselves to the ground, some cover their heads, some scream. Pansy does none of these things, choosing instead to freeze up, her eyes wide as she watches bodies around her shred themselves into tiny, bloody pieces. For a moment, she's transported back to Hogwarts, watching as the Death Eaters, lead by He Who Must Not Be Named, stormed the school, slaughtering anyone in their way. She had been rooted to the spot, then, too terrified to do much of anything, but she knows better now. Turning, she pushes off from her dais, grateful for her childhood learning to skate, since it allows her to flit through the milling bodies around her, searching for an exit. She can't stay on the ice any longer.

Re: Pansy Parkinson ; OPEN

[justoutrunyou]

Sandy had gotten her hand on a key well enough in the confusion but she still hadn't found Pruna.

In desperation she didn't want to leave the ice rink but the gore on the ground and fear of explosions was making it harder for her frazzled nerves to handle any more. So she took off like a bolt for the nearest exit and in the process almost crashed into Pansy. The girl was small and bony, she couldn't be more then eleven but she was moving fast in her sparkling yellow outfit. A black flowery eyepatch over her right eye stood in sharp contrast to the bright outfit that was splattered with blood.

A dark burned mark on her forehead almost looked like a second flower on her pale face.

peggy carter ♣ open

[hisbestgirl]

Peggy tries to protest when she's forced into ice skates and an outfit that way too revealing for her tastes. She was, after all, a soldier, not some sort of pin up model, but the stylist ignores her complaints and she's told it's already time for the arena. How was she expected to fight in this get up? Especially with a corset that was practically cutting off her air supply. Not to mention all the attention she'd be drawing to herself.

At least she's not the only one with this disadvantage, noticing as her podium rises up that everyone aligned in the circle is wearing some sort odd clothing along with skates. Definitely entertainment, she thinks, recalling what some of the other tributes had previously explained to her.

She takes a deep breath, because she knows she can do this. She just had to fight, and maybe somehow she could figure out a way to get out of here. Who knows? Maybe she could find Howard in here, if he really was here and figure out a bit more what was going on. The countdown begins and she focuses, ready as she always is in preparing for battle.

Until she hears his voice.

This is a dream, she decides. With the outrageous wear and the strange location, there was already evidence of that. But his voice? No. He was dead. He had been for over a year now, crashed and sunk into the bottom of the ocean. She couldn't be hearing him now.

Except it doesn't stop her from looking frantically around the circle for the man she once loved, the man she still loved. And she sees him, that all too familiar face, even with the strange marking along his cheek, it's him. She can feel her heart practically stop, breathing becoming all too difficult now. No, he couldn't be. That wasn't Steve. Not her Steve. It couldn't be. But it sounds just like him, even the words he's saying, begging not to fight--it was all him.

There's explosions around the area before she can make a move to run towards him once the countdown is done. She immediately ducks dodging flying debris. Of course, this was war. Even if he protested it, there was no stopping the fighting. There never was.

All she knows is she needs to get to him. She needs to run (or skate, really) and find him amongst this chaos. If it really was him she was hearing, was seeing, then this all had to be a dream. Because her Steve was dead.

[arrogantalloy]

Tony has been skating around to check on who he knows to see if they're still breathing. Not worrying about Steve right now because he knows that not only does the guy obviously has a pulse, but he's more than capable of defending himself against ice skate blades.

So when he happens upon Peggy in her floral... Ensemble? He stops, looking utterly surprised at not only her being here but how young she looks.

"You're younger than me."

He says to her, oh so intelligently.

[arrogantalloy]

As Tony's poked and prodded to get into stunning bit of spandex, something that he wasn't even the least bit embarassed about, hell after wearing a shirt that was meant for a 16 year old girl, or being neked several times on YouTube what else could possibly be more embarassing? His face looks a bit of a mess from him not being overly helpful after being caught.

As Steve rattles off his speech of good will and christmas, to be fair Tony wasn't exactly listening, he didn't really have to after all he grew up with the comics and 'old war stories' from his Dad, he knew pretty much the gist of what the speech was 'let's not play their games'. So Tony just shook his head. He agreed, he just knew it wouldn't be that easy.

He was proved right when the explosions started. After his initial startle and ducking the first thing Tony did was whip his head over to Steve, obviously relieved to find that he's still in one piece.

"Ho, boy." he mutters begrudgingly, before looking at the carnage around him, it all feeling a little to close to his trip to Afghanistan, both before and after his enforced holiday in a cave. Swallowing he raises his head to double check faces to see who's still around and to look for Bruce.

[honeyibrokeharlem]

Tony will probably be glad to see that Bruce is alive and (sort of kind of not really) well.

In all the confusion, it will be hard to keep track of each other, but Tony Stark is dressed in sparkles. Bruce, hugging his ruined arms close to his chest and skating around the rink to get a good eye on things, spots him.

"Tony, did you get caught in the explosion?" Right to the point as he ground to a halt to talk to him. People are churning around them and Bruce quickly has to start skating again to avoid being knocked over, but he hovers close, trying to not let on to how relieved he is to see that Tony hasn't been spattered all over the ice and gauging how wounded he is.

SHAGGY ROGERS | OPEN

[dogissues]

Like, this isn't fair. Like, not that the whole thing wasn't way unfair to begin with, but usually people didn't get exploded before the arena had even started. Not that Shaggy had, like, been through more than one arena before, but Azula had made him watch recordings of some of the others and none of them had exploding people before the gong sounded.

As soon as the gong sounds, Shaggy starts scrambling away in the exact opposite direction from all the keys, pausing only to yank the skates off his feet when he reaches the rink exit. Unfortunately, the stupid outfit they put him in will have to wait until he can find some place with baggy clothes.

[OPEN]

[rediscover]

Even with all the preparing she'd been trying to do, when it comes time for them to be loaded up and shipped to the Arena, Anna still feels woefully unprepared. Her trepidation is high, especially after that disaster of a mini-Arena, but the fact that she's wearing ice skates and a mermaid-themed figure skating outfit is some small comfort to her--after all, Elsa taught her a thing or two about ice skating. But still, she can't help an impending sense of dread, even as Steve begins talking, even as she looks around at the other Tributes. She spots some familiar faces--Dave, Harley, Donatello--but zeroes in on two in particular. Kristoff and Elsa are both here, but she doesn't have much time to focus on that, because Steve is done talking and suddenly things are exploding around her. Anna screams loudly, caught off-guard, covering her mouth as she realizes that people are lying bloody and mangled around her. It's too much, she can't look.

And, well, she doesn't have time to anyway. Because the gong is going off and people are moving, skating toward the Cornucopia or away from it. She takes a heartbeat to decide, before moving toward the edge of the rink, skating as fast as she can while skirting around dead bodies and destroyed ice. She bumps into several people, cringing away from physical contact in case they didn't heed Steve's pleas to be peaceful, keeping her eyes peeled for Kristoff and Elsa. Once she gets to the edge, she shucks her skates, but hangs onto them--a sharp blade could come in handy, after all. Then she makes to find a safe place to wait it out until she can find Elsa and Kristoff. If she runs into you, she might take a defensive stance, or check if you're alright, depending on who you are and whether or not she knows--or trusts--you.

[Closed to Elsa and Kristoff.]

The plan had been for the three of them to find a safe place to meet up, but in the chaos of the Cornucopia she'd lost track of them, gotten confused and scared and now their plan was sort of defunct. So once she gets away from the ice rink, skates still in hand, she heads up to the second floor, crouching behind a large kiosk selling sunglasses, watching over the edge of the balcony for her sister and boyfriend. It's there that they'll find her, eventually--pale and a little shaky, but mostly with adrenaline.

[arrogantalloy]

Tony's surveying the damage mostly keeping his distance from others (Lets face it, he understands humanity better than Steve) while keeping an eye out for people he hasn't seen since he was captured for trying to save Topher when he bumps into one of the faces he's looking for.

When he sees her looking defensive he raises his hands a little.

"Careful there, Sno-cone. We have to stop meeting like this."

After all, it's how they first met too.

[closed to Feferi and Sollux]

[shenunigans]

It's a few hours later, just a few, and Dave is already emotionally and physically done with this shit. He didn't exactly come into the Arena in fighting form, but to watch Karkat explode and to be dogpiled by so many people before only to go on to be screamed at and blamed for the death of a guy you barely knew had really done a number on him. He almost wants to find a crevice to sleep in and hope that he makes it out somehow.

Rather than that, he chooses to focus on what he can do right now. He let himself get separated after he left Eponine, but he can't bring it in him to go back and look for Bro or Rose at this point. In idle thoughts he remembers the guy he bumped into before Prison, the one he said he'd help out, and that gives him a clear goal of what he can do. It'd be pretty fucking helpful to touch base with him, since he made him his obligation, maybe he'll have back up when Eridan decides to come for him.

He has vague memories of seeing him helped off the ice a while ago, though he isn't quite sure of where he went, so he just heads in the direction he last recalls seeing him walk.

"Any nerds around here?" He calls out, glancing around as he follows it up with something more specific. "Hey, Tholluxth? S-o-l-l-u-x." He lets that hang for a moment before relenting. "Solluuuux?"

[fintastic]

Well, at least one troll hears Dave, but not the troll he was looking for. Someone's trying to find Sollux, and she doesn't recognize that voice at all. So far, she hasn't seen a whole lot happen-- besides some people exploding-- but she's still on her toes.

Waiting around the corner, she peers around it, doing her best to keep her horns from interfering. They do make subtlety a little difficult. She waits to see which way he takes, and as soon as he gets close enough (a little too close for comfort) she steps out from her hiding spot.

"Who are you, and why are you looking for Sollux?" With her fins flared out, and her brow furrowed, she looks equal parts silly and serious. The feathered costume and lack of a weapon aren't really helping her, either.

Eponind - open

[gardienne]

Eponine is knackered. She's had nightmares every night since her arrest. And always the same: Orc's execution, and afterwards, his bloodied mess of a body turning to her, asking why she hadn 't saved him, asking why she'd made him come, questioning
whether she still loved him, as he coughed blood over him. And then, he reached up to grab her face, and press his searing hot thumb to her, laughing as her flesh sizzled.

But back in the arena, Eponine's not thinking of Orc. She's instead sat, tucked on her podium, quite unable to stand in the blades. She has no idea what they're for, and cares less. They're sharp and heavy and that's enough for her. So she sits, the better side of her face pressed to her knees as the countdown starts, and Steve begins to talk. Steve - Eponine looks ip, and in the direction of his voice, and begins to smile. So many arenas ago, in the ice one, she had asked these questions. It's funny that it's come full circle.

And then the bodies explode, and Eponine screams as blood rains down, streaking a bit over her face and bare arms. This is it. The Gamemakers' revenge. Quickly, she begins to untie her boots, and slip them off her feet. She goes barefoot onto the ice, skirting past body parts, in an attempt to find her friends.

Re: Eponind - open

[notdavinci]

Attempting the Cornocopia this time had been one of the most terrible ideas Siroc had had lately. it had seemed like a reasonable thing to do, given the advantages, but now he was left with a rather useless right hand for his trouble. He was not sure if it was broken, or badly sprained, but it WAS terribly annoying, he had only ever skated a few times, most of them taking place last winter when Ramon and d'Artagnan had attempted to teach him. They had not ended entirely well, and even here, he'd had to pick himself up after the huge fall that the explosion of tributes had started.

Shakily, he managed to get to his feet, and glanced about, in the commotion for someone he knew. Then there was Eponine, and he made his way towards her, frowning as he caught a look at her face just then. He had seen her message of course, but there was something of seeing horrible injuries, those caused purposely that gave him more than some pause.

For now, instead of losing himself in the horror, instead he just reacted to her presence.

"Miss Eponine?" He started, reaching out towards the girl. "May I be of some help?"

Harold || Open

[lifewithnoconsequence]

Harold, for one, had no idea who it was that was talking. Just that they came up with a nice little pep talk before everything started. But let's face it, Krebs highly doubted anyone would have given the plea much, if any, thought at all. Even if they did there would not be peace for long. These were humans they were talking about, and humans always found reasons to kill. If one doesn't exist, then someone would think of a reason.

But now wasn't the time of cynical thoughts. Now was the time to analyze the area from the view he had been given, and upon touching ground, he quickly took a look around. People were still debating on what to do at this point. So he decided the best thing to do was to slip away. His plan ultimately boiled down to movement versus settlement. He who gathers the most supplies wins. But those who are in an active defense tended to fair better.

Either way, he went with finding food first and foremost. Slipping off his skates as soon as he exited the ice, but still keeping a hand on them. One never knows what could be needed when.

Open after he's off the ice

[metalicarus]

[Closed to Clementine and Albert]
He'd spotted the three of them while the countdown was going on. Steve's speech had been stirring and captivating, but it was ultimately a preach to his choir; Jet had no intention of going for anyone's throats if he could help it. The exception was Albert, Felicity and Clementine, two of them were family and the third was a little girl he'd promised to help, he'd protect them to the death.

And all three of them needed his help as soon as the arena started. Albert couldn't skate--Jet knew that already, the damn German never could-- Clem didn't seem to be fairing much better, and Fee'd been knocked down pretty badly. Clem, Fee, Al. He made his goals and gracefully took off across the ice like he'd been born in his skates.

[Open just about anywhere you'd like]
The trade off for rescuing his friends was his attempt at the cornucopia'd earned him nothing. It was a small price in his opinion. Once he was off the ice, the blades were off too, though he quickly tied them together and strung them over his shoulder; as soon as he had the time to remove the blades and use them, he'd have a weapon. For now, he needed to move on, find some supplies and find his allies. As much as he wanted to believe in speech made by Captain America himself, the cynical eighty-plus-year-old side of him knew it wasn't likely. He needed to get moving.

[silberfuchs]

Ice. It had to be ice.

One would think that Albert, being from a country that's known in part for its skiing and other winter activities would be quite at home on the ice, but One would be completely and utterly mistaken. Albert may be able to handle skis like a professional, but he is terrible on ice skates.

Case in point, the second his feet are off the podium (via a very careful and less than graceful slide down the side of the thing on his hands and knees) his feet come out from under him and he ends up flat on his ass. In a truly ridiculous getup no less. Lord save him from vindictive stylists.

Even if Albert hadn't wanted to go along with Steve's plan of non-violence (which isn't the case at all; despite the sudden and violent loss of life - he'll miss Kili - Albert already went into the arena with the intention of not killing anyone else lest he himself be killed) he wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it. Every attempt to get up is an exercise in futility.

Which is why when Jet gets to him, not but a few minutes after the starting call, he's inching his way towards the edge of the ice rink on his hands and knees like some sort of incredibly undignified silver turtle.

Rocket || OPEN

[rocket_raccoon]

As Rocket found himself standing out in the middle of what was clearly some sort of shopping central plaza, he had to wonder if the shiny one-piece he'd somehow gotten wrapped up in was necessary. It didn't seem to have any benefit to a fight in any way, no matter how he looked at it. As far as gladiator planets went, this was getting top marks for being the weirdest by far. Rocket could understand the idea of bloodshed as entertainment for some moronic population somewhere. He didn't necessarily like it, but there it was and what was he supposed to do about anyway? In this particular instance, he was meant to go and kill a bunch of people in order to survive. Sure, why not. But did he have to do it dressed like this??

And then some humie had gone and started talking, which usually had him instantly rolling his eyes impatiently. But something about the way this one spoke had Rocket listening. It was a little like Quill, if Quill had better vocabulistics, a higher IQ, and some sense of honor or justice or whatever. So Rocket found himself listening. Frowning, to be sure. But listening.

At least until the countdown ended and a bunch of other sorry-looking humies went kablooey right where they stood. With a snarl, he leapt from his platform and moved quickly and swiftly toward where he could potentially get his grubby little paws on some form of weapon.

Cannon't resist this

[arrogantalloy]

Tony wasn't heading to the cornucopia so much as past it when he saw the raccoon, skating to a stop when the realisation of what he's seeing strikes him.

"Wow are you too short to be a strom trooper." With a continuing stare Tony tilts his head at the grumpy bundle of fur. "Please tell me you don't sound like Bruce Willis."

After all he's seen, really, he's going to automatically assume everyone here in their spandex can speak on some level.

Tess | OTA

[oopsright]

Now that she's got her key and she's managed to escape from the mayhem of the cornucopia, finally reaching the way out of the rink, Tess has an unlabeled key gripped in one hand and her skate gripped in the other, ready for anyone who tries to get the jump on her as she's half-running and half-limping. The metal of both objects bites into the skin of her palms and it keeps her grounded as she presses onward, eyes peeled and darting around the mall and ears straining for any sounds that might creep up from behind.

Joel and Ellie, those are primarily the first two people she's hoping to bump into. If she ends up running into anyone other than them, here's to hoping they don't attack her first as she'll retaliate without any hesitation, too on edge from what had happened in the cornucopia. Those bodies coming apart to decorate the white ice with blood and gore.

What the heck is she supposed to do with an unlabeled key, and to which lock would it go into to unlock? A store? A locker? A way out?

[aintyourdad]

Joel left Shepard. He doesn't like the situation much, but ultimately, Tess and Ellie will always come first, no matter how much he likes the other woman. Shepard isn't his, the way Tess and Ellie are. He's not obligated to her in the same ways, not connected like that. Through time and hardship and the common knowledge of a world.

So he's got one of his own skates in hand as he creeps around the edges of the rink, his eyes peeled for either familiar face. The dust has settled, mostly, so it's just a matter of keeping his head down and avoiding being attacked as best he can.

When he spots that profile, that firm jaw, the strong brow, the line of her back, he sighs a little in relief, not even aware he was sucking in a breath. "Tess," he hisses to get her attention, circling around so he doesn't startle her.

Rose Lalonde | Open

[arosewiththorns]

Rose hasn't been at the top of her game for weeks, and really that shouldn't be surprising. She's been imprisoned, bruises from beatings still visible on her skin even through the mesh of her costume. And even though she seems to stand steady in her skates she doesn't trust one ankle, still wary about putting her weight on it. But she looks composed, a good mask she's perfected over the years, and the brand on her cheek only makes her seem more fierce in it's own way.

She's trying though, trying to bury it all down and focus on what she needs to do but she keeps getting drawn back to her preparation time with Jolie, the queen trying to play her care off as she painted her lips a colour more to Rose's choosing than her own, the press of her arms when she hugged her. Show 'em what you're made of the words echo in her head as she steadies herself and scans the arena for familiar faces, for Dave and Bro, something in her reassured when she spots them both. That's good, at least together she can look out for them.

Steve's voice draws her attention back with a snap and even though she listens she finds herself searching for Bro again, trying to judge what he plans to do. Peace is all good and well, but they'll be better off if they go for the Cornucopia, that's a big thing she knows. I can make or break a success but before she can even make a decision there are explosions and screams and she flinches at all the noise, more frantic now as she scans the arena for Dave and Bro, her fingers tightly clenched as she steps off the pedestal, trying to skate closer to where they last were, her focus on them and not the other tributes.

Re: Rose Lalonde | Open

[hit_girl_mindy]

Which was a shame, because here is one of her prison mates, assuming she'd seen her at one point. While it had been a haze, that time in there, Mindy HAD remembered conversations with everyone, abs even now, she was curious to see how some of them made out.

"Rose," she said, once she skated up to the girl. "How're you holding up?"

For Steve (at the department store, about an hour later)

[dividedgirlofmine]

One thing Susannah wanted sooner rather than later was to get out of the damn skating outfit she'd been stuffed in. She'd managed to find a knee-length dress in her size and a good, practical denim jacket to change into behind one of the larger displays and was just shrugging the later on when a man stepped in front of her.

She's already grabbed one of the blades removed from her cappie skates from the discarded skating costume and holding it ready to slash when the man's face registers. "You're the fellow who made that speech," she says.

[aboveangrybees]

Steve was of the same mind, already out of his skating outfit and in a pair of decently fitting jeans, but he'd yet to put his shirt on, only having been able to find ones in one size too small. Shirts just don't come in his shoulder width very often. But without one, anyone can see his torso is littered with bruises and cuts.

He hadn't realized anyone was over here, so when she moves, he's quick to notice and turn to face her. He's unarmed except for the ill fitted shirt in hand. It's not often someone has the jump on him.

"Yep, that's me," he's not about to deny it. "I didn't mean to intrude," on her over here, he wasn't expecting to find someone after all.