thearena | ARENA 11-PaneMall

ARENA 11-PaneMall

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.

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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.

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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.

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"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.”

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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.

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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.

Tony was in fact really relieved that he found Bruce approaching him. After all they didn't get much in the way of explanation when they were all hauled off, only to be dressed up like Tonya Harding and tossed onto some cheap rink. So really it could have been a lot worse.

"Ah. No. I may have made a comment to the peace keepers before finding myself in a styling room. Other than that, nothing new since you last saw me." He gave Bruce an easy grin, as if it's no big deal before really noticing his arm.

"How close were you?" His voice leaning more toward serious.

"Oh, these?" Bruce awkwardly tucked his hands away, but it did nothing to hide all the blistering. "They're not from the explosions. I wasn't too close to those."

Close enough to get a little splashing of gore on his clothes, but it was hard to tell with all the black.

"I just wasn't very good at making the Peacekeepers happy, and frankly, they're a lot harder to hide when I'm wearing... whatever it is I'm wearing right now." Yes, he might have deliberately avoided revealing how hurt he was from the torture during their few days in prison. Displaying it wouldn't have done anything but satisfy the Peacekeepers and make Tony and Topher feel worse, at any rate. He waved one blistered hand dismissively. "I'll be fine. Let's get off the ice."

Tony didn't look like he was all that interested in the others dismissive behaviour. He knew Bruce well enough to know he was as bad as Tony when it came to ignoring and hiding when something was wrong. So he grabbed the hand that was dismissively waved and looks at it.

"Or, we could just stay on the ice, using it to soothe your burns." He pauses. "Or just take some chunks with us." Which also sounded like a useful idea, causing him to let go of Bruce's hand and bend down to pick up a near by chunk tossing it up in the air and catching it before offering it to him.

"And we're in spandex. Aerodynamic and light so it doesn't mess with movement or speed. Why else would Rogers feel the need to make a speech? He's in his natural fabrics right now."

Bruce can't keep from hissing loudly at the sudden contact and immediately pulling his hand back the moment Tony lets it go. "Don't grab it like that!"

After all, while he was good at pretending it wasn't a big deal, burns still hurt. Especially burns that were easily second degree. "Most of them are already days old, but thanks." He takes the offered ice, holding it in his hands and grimacing at the pain. Lukewarm water would have been best, but they were working with what they had. "They put us in figure skating costumes."

At the hiss and his snapping Tony just give him a bland look, a look that implies 'if you didn't want it to hurt, you shouldn't pretend it's nothing.' after all, when has Tony Stark ever not touched something? Not counting things handed to him. As much as Bruce is Tony's friend, hiding the truth from him is still hiding the truth from him. After all, Tony might not have made a big deal about the things that were done to him, but he still said what happened.

"We're on ice, lederhosen wouldn't have been as good a look."

He starts to skate towards the exit, paying absolutely no attention to any chaos going on around him. More interested in seeing if they could not just get out, but find out what is out. He glances over his shoulder.

"Let's see if we can find some weed, or berries for the pain."

Because he's always got to joke.

Okay, Bruce could acknowledge that he might deserve that look. He hadn't expected Tony to put his hands all over someone else's burns, though. In retrospect, expecting Tony to act any less than an easily distracted toddler was foolish.

"I don't trust any weed this arena might have." He followed Tony, needing to weave around people to keep track of him. "They'd probably cut it with rat poison." Or LSD, maybe. To make things more entertaining. "What I would like are any other clothes they might have."

Because seriously. They both looked just plain silly.

And he didn't like wearing clothes with other people's blood on them.

"You were hiding in Brazil and India, and you're worried about what's going to be in a bag of ice rink weed?" Tony shakes his head. "I'm starting to think I should be worried about you."

Besides, with the Hulk inside Bruce, even if he's presently caged or something. A little bit of LSD or rat poison wouldn't really ruin his day.

"You don't even look that bad. I mean, I'd almost call you stylish like that." THen he smirks. "You never know, this could end up being a positive thing if you get mildly frustrated." Tony put a lot of emphasis on the last two words, feeling amused enough with the day to implied that Bruce had more of a hair-trigger temper than he actually did.

Bruce rolls his eyes. "I hit 'mildly frustrated' a while ago."

He swears, Tony is going to be the death of himself with all his baiting the Hulk. Then again, Bruce couldn't help but like how little Tony feared him and his condition. It feels humanizing.

He catches himself at the exit with his elbows, not wanting to use his hands and possibly burst blisters, then carefully steps off the ice rink. "We should keep the skates. The blades can be weapons."

Tony can't help but smirk at the eye roll because really if had the desired effect and as he elbowed the door, Tony gave a dry look and opened the door himself with his own hands.

"That means taking them off you know."

He pointedly looks at his hands.

"Looks like you get to feel four again as I take them off. Aren't you lucky?"

"No, no, that won't--" He absently grabs the edge of the doorway with his burnt hands, then recoils with a loud hiss, nearly knocking himself over with the force.

"...Maybe that will be necessary." This is bad. He needs to wrap up his burns to keep them from getting infected, then suck up the pain. Otherwise, he's going to be dependent on other people during the arena, and that can only end with him dying within a week.

Tony just sighs at him, and gives him the most obvious 'really' face he can muster for the situation.

"I'm surrounded by stubborn people. Come on, lets find you a chair." He moves through the door and holds it open for him as he mutters to himself "What kind of scientists forgets his hands are blistered?" but in the end, it's still Bruce so the muttering still has as fond as a tone as he can muster.

"You are one to talk!" Yeah, remember that time you went and let everyone think you were dead so you could handle an international terrorist on your own instead of, you know, calling someone?

Yes. Yes, Bruce is still bitter about that.

Bruce walks off the ice, wobbling on his skates as he does so. Skates are really not meant for walking outside of rinks. "Do you have anything from the cells?"

And by that, he meant did Tony have anything that needed medical attention. It was possible that they targeted Bruce specifically because they expected the newest Tribute to be the easiest to crack, but Tony had a bad habit of provoking people.

"Well I didn't know it would attract people who did the same" he snarks back "After all Pepper and Rhodie are very..." He stops his train of thought because thinking about them and how he isn't with them still unsettles him.

So in a move to act like he never brought them up he just takes Bruce's elbow to help keep him stable, Tony might have been rusty on skates, but balance was something that once learnt you always seemed to have, absently he decided to chalk it up to stabilizing in various Iron Man armour.

"Nothing worse than what I've technically had done to myself."

He shrugs. Most of his pain came from beatings to the face and body, he'd already made a show of not being helpful unless he wanted to be so really there was no point to going needlessly overboard with him. That isn't to say that he will be taking his lycra off any time soon, because under this black sparkly number is a lot of purple and sickly yellow.

"I'm just glad I don't have the reactor anymore... For a change."

"It gives them less of an easy target."

For a brief moment, Bruce imagines the peacekeepers periodically yanking Tony's arc reactor out of his chest, waiting until he seized up and his heart was palpitating, and then quickly reconnecting it so he could survive just long enough for them to do it again.

He shudders at the thought and does his best to push it out of his head.

He waits until they get to a bench he can sit at before saying, "So you've already been in one of these. What happens after the Cornucopia?" It wasn't exactly the bloodbath the Capitol was hoping for, so he wonders if something bad is going to happen to them.

"That still sounds like you're saying I'm an easy target." He offers with dismissive sarcasm, because he's only poking fun. He notices the shudder but chooses to not bring it up there.

As Bruce sits, Tony takes a knee and starts to unlace Bruces skates as he answers.

"Well, the last Cornucopia actually had weapons in it so there was a lot more blood before it went quiet after the chaos and confusion dies down. It was quiet for about a week, then walls started melting and giant spiders came after us."

Then he died shortly after that.

"Sounds like a lot of fun."

And by that, he means he's preparing for the absolute worst.

Also, he feels like he's five again. Bruce is way too old to have other people undoing his laces for him.

"They'll probably do something different this time. It'd get boring if they did the same thing over and over." Bruce chews the inside of his cheek, then looks down at Tony. "Why don't we stick together until then?"

He's asking a question he probably doesn't need to ask, but years of paranoia and a lack of close relationships demands that he does anyway. He's asking if they have each other's backs in this hellhole.

"Actually, mostly was. Only because I came over Macaulay Culkin on some house to keep out dangerous elements." He pauses. "Thor, Natasha, Barnes and Rogers still got in though."

Tony pulls off the boot a little harder than he might, causing the blade to come a little too close to his skin. However he doesn't even seem to notice as he drops the boot to one side and starts on the other.

"Over and over again? Like making people kill each other? Don't worry, there was a little arena between here and now, reenacting the Titanic sort of." Tony looks up as he suggested they stay together, he pauses for a moment. "Uh. Sure, don't know why this was a question really. I mean things could happen, but we can always find our way back to each other."

Even though the last time he got separated from the group.

He died.

"If you slice yourself open with an ice skate, I'm going to laugh at you while I patch it up." That is a promise, Tony.

Bruce relaxes. He had expected that answer, but he had needed to ask anyway. He's not used to being able to depend on anyone other than himself.

"First thing we probably should do is grab clothes and see if we can find any supplies. It's a mall, so maybe there's a camping store or a pharmacy."

"As long as you have a sense of humour about it." Tony smirks, because he had at least enough situational awareness to know the blade was never going to get close to him, well, not close enough to actually do much damage anyway. Also because the comment helped remind him that if Bruce was feeling alright enough to make comments like that, then Tony wouldn't have to worry about him.

"If you think these people are nice enough to offer up a pharmacy, then you're more trusting than your file says." He shakes his head before getting of Bruce's other boot before starting to unlace his own.

"Even if there is, I wouldn't trust any of the labels or dosage requirements. We're here to die for fun and profit, not all last to the end."

"You never know. They might lure us in there with the promise of medical supplies, and it turns out to be an evil pharmacy. Maybe you have to get past carnivorous cash registers to get to the neosporin." Little known fact: Bruce Banner has a sense of humor. It just happens to be extremely dry and dark.

He nods in thanks as Tony gets him out of the last skate, leaning down to grab the potential weapons by the heels and wincing as soon as he touches it. But he has to have an easily accessible weapon, regardless of the pain, because otherwise he really is helpless.

Tony chuckles, one thing he likes is Dark Humour on Bruce.

"That. I would love to see. If only for the registers."

As Bruce hisses when he touches the skate Tony reaches for both skates and puts them out of reach before looking up at Bruce.

"Look, I know no sane person ever wants to hear this. But you're going to have to rely on me to keep you alive, until we can do something about those hands of yours. Because if you pop them and they get infected, you're in trouble because you're the one that knows how to fix that, not me."

"What, they don't have man-eating registers where you shop?"

But Bruce scowls at Tony, instinctively moving to clasp his hands and rub his knuckles anxiously before stopping just in time. No need to risk popping his blisters just because he hasn't bothered breaking a nervous habit.

He's right, unfortunately, but Bruce hates the feeling of being dependent on a person. The only thing that makes it bearable is that it's Tony and he trusts Tony to not turn around and stab him in the back. "I could always just tell you how to deal with infections."

But there isn't really any heat to his words, because even if he did tell Tony how to do it, he somehow doubts the man would have the stomach for it if it got gruesome, and the Capitol isn't likely to drop antibiotics in if they need them.

"Well I don't personally shop, so I keep missing out on that." Tony grins at him, grinning more after a moment to pointedly show how little he's concerned about that scowl.
His face then moving to bland as Bruce offers to verbally instruct him.

"Uh, going to pass on that one. Because if I'm going to start, i'm going to want to know it all and well, being the doctor is your job, not mine."

"In the eyes of US law, I'm just as much a medical professional as you are." Not that that means anything, considering Bruce has been wanted by that law for a while now.

Bruce stands up, curling his socked feet into the ground before glancing back at the ice rink, littered with blood and people clinging to each other. "We should go. I'm guessing things don't usually go so well at the Cornucopia." The only blood he has seen spilled today has been from the people who were killed by the Capitol. He hasn't seen any fights on the ice.

ARENA 11-PaneMall

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