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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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.

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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.

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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.

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Jet returns quickly, good for the fact they can have each other's backs again but bad for it means. "There was nothing to grab." The price of saving his friends, but he didn't regret it, it just sucked.

"Forget it, we can make do without it, let's find some stuff and then find a place to lay low." A base would serve them well in what was clearly a mall. Who knew what else was here or how everything was laid out or even where the supplies might be, but if it was anything like a regular mall, they'd need to go out and find what they needed while also needing a place to sleep.

He glanced to his partner and couldn't stop the grin that crept up his face. "Let's get you something else to wear, though, unless you'd like to burst into song first."

Grinding his teeth in irritation, Albert cuffs Jet in the shoulder and stomps his way to the nearest clothing store, looking around before slipping in and pulling a slightly too small hoodie on himself. It's only slightly less ridiculous than the skating costume.

"Let's find something better than flimsy t-shirts and get ourselves away from the ice." Though honestly, it's not nearly as much of a bloodbath as their previous arena. The first they hadn't been present for the start but the second was a madhouse at the Cornucopia. This one, though still violent with the remains of the exploded tributes thanks to the Capitol directly, benefited from Steve's speech. Albert hopes that doesn't come back to bite the man in the worst way. They'll have to find him later and check.

"This way, there's a directory."

Jet snickers to himself again, but lets the issue go. His outfit, while ridiculous, wasn't that bad, so he left off finding something in the clothing store; maybe if they couldn't find anything else, but it was a mall, that wasn't likely. However, they were both barefoot and that was a lot more problematic than stupid skating outfits.

They moved to the directory and Jet's eyes scanned over it for something familiar or at least recognizable. There weren't any store names he knew, but most of them were easy enough to figure out, one of them even caught his attention and he pointed it out on the map.

"Here. A sporting goods store, that's bound to have something good." At first, all he could think of was baseball bats and football padding, but there were other things that were considered sports beyond those, like camping and running; one would get them good supplies and the other would get them better shoes.

"It's all the way across the store..stick close." They could probably get there in easy enough time, maybe even avoid any of the other tributes, but that didn't mean they shouldn't be cautious. The last thing they needed was to get separated when they'd finally started out together in one of these damn things.

"That should serve," he agrees with a hopeful note in his voice, mind alight with camping gear, running shoes, and all manner of other useful things. Perhaps they'd catch a break.

The journey over is blissfully uneventful. There are several other tributes milling around, but they're easy to avoid in such a cavernous mall and even in the store itself, and no one really seems to be raring for a fight this early either.

After the lack of supplies in the last arena, Albert has a bit of a field day when they discover the store is fully stocked with all manner of gear, including a plethora of things that can be used as weapons. By the time he's satisfied, the German is fully dressed in camo pants, a running shirt with a mid-weight jacket tossed over it, and the sturdiest running shoes he could find. A pair of gloves and some sunglasses complete the ensemble, just in case, and he was so glad to get out of the damned skating outfit that he'd stripped right there in the clothing aisles; why not? There are cameras everywhere anyway.

As for supplies, a backpack was first and laden down with all manner of useful things:

+ A sleeping bag with stuff sack
+ Full repelling harness
+ 70 meters of nylon rope
+ As many carabiner clips as he can hook to various surfaces without jingling
+ Four water bottles (2 half liter, 2 one liter)
+ A paintball gun with extra paintballs
+ An LED flashlight with extra batteries
+ A folding knife

And the mother of all loot, a set of walkie talkies. Albert was especially gratified to find these, so much more secure in the knowledge that even if he and Jet do get split up again, they have a much better chance of finding each other with little difficulty.

Once they're all packed, Albert is in a much, much better mood. Smiling even! Who'd have thought?

Jet makes quick work of his own change, slipping into some cargo pants and a long-sleeved running shirt along with black hiking boots and a light jacket. That would keep him protected and warm and the pockets on the pants were perfect for keeping small supplies in case he needed to leave his pack.

The pack he filled similarly to his partner:
>A sleeping bag hooked to the back
>A small self-made first aid kit
>Flashlight with extra batteries
>A hunting knife
>Full repelling harness
>Nylon rope (not the highlighter pink or yellow kinds)
>One hockey stick to attach two of the ice skate blades to
>One whetstone
>A paintball pistol

The walkie talkies were a load off Jet's mind, it made everything seem a lot easier to know he'd be able to reach his partner even if they split up for a supply run or whatever.

The finishing touches applied, Jet joined the older man again, a smile of his own forming when he saw Albert's. He even darted in for a quick kiss before nudging them toward the door.

"Feels good to have real supplies for once. We should find somewhere to set up 'base.' Somewhere high."

As good as he felt with the supplies, he'd feel better in a birds nest position where they could keep their eyes on things.

"That's what the harnesses are for." Of course they'll only work for a quick descent and climbing up that way will leave them as sitting ducks, but a base up on the third floor doesn't sound like a terrible idea. He kisses back briefly, then goes about attaching his gear to his back. "We'll head up, but I'd like to explore first. Maybe find a food source if we can."

He glances at Jet, a bit cowed. "No cooking the local fauna this time, if there's any." That hadn't ended well...

Jet nodded, exploring was a good idea. Since they could actually see the arena this time, it would serve them better to get the lay of the land.

Albert's comment earns a shrug, although he agrees, he just doesn't blame Albert for the idea; it was a good one in theory."It's a mall, so there's probably a food court somewhere around the middle. It might be too obvious, but it's worth a look. I think I saw it was on this floor."

He double checked that everything was where it should be and wouldn't get in his way in a pinch and stood next to Albert to wait for his fiance to be ready as well.

Once the backpack is secured, straps tight on his chest and at his hips with easy and quick releases ready, Albert nods to Jet. The smile still plays around the edges of his mouth, but he's sure Jet isn't going to like what he has to say next.

"We should split up to cover more ground. We'll need to find food and any other supplies that can be useful." Splitting up when they'd finally started an arena together isn't ideal, he knows, but the mall is an enclosed area and it should be easier to navigate and find each other. Not to mention they have the walkie talkies this time. "We can meet up again in a few hours on the third floor to make camp."

Jet shot him a look that could peel the paint from the walls around them, then his gaze was averted and purposefully anywhere but the German.

"Fine."

That was it, his only response. Albert might notice things becoming a little chillier in the direction of the blond.

It wasn't Jet's usual way of expressing his anger, he was usually fire and snapping and arguing, but the problem was that he knew his partner was right. They'd cover more ground and get more done separately than they would together. Divide and conquer had always been a prime strategy of their team. But with their track record in the arenas, he worried for the outcome of that decision.

That was a mistake.

Albert's mood ebbs so badly at Jet giving him the cold - no, glacial - shoulder that he backpedals immediately. "I didn't mean right away. Some of the stores are bigger and we should cover each other exploring those."

It's a transparent sort of save, but it's the best he can come up with on short notice and he can't stand Jet being angry with him already this soon in the arena. Or really, he doesn't like Jet being angry with him at all.

It's a terrible attempt at a recovery, but he relents and takes it anyway. They would need to split up eventually, he knew that, he just didn't want to do it so soon when barely any time had passed since the gong.

"We'll look into those first, then split up. And only for a few hours."

He glanced over to Albert, a little flash of worry in his expression. He'd feel better once they had a place they could return to, but they didn't and the concern that something might go wrong with the walkie talkies had crossed his mind, making him a little paranoid. All in all, he had to admit his paranoia wasn't too well founded this time around, they were rolling in supplies and were in a mall of all places, so he kept it to himself. As best he could anyway.

Freed from the doghouse, Albert lets himself feel hopeful again. "Alright, then the department store first before the rest of the tributes pick through everything, yeah?" Even with his chip, 'yeah' still sounds a little like 'ja' and that's heartening too.

The department store is mostly clothing, something which they don't exactly need, but with the extra space in Albert's pack and the plan to later set up an actual camp, Albert grabs a few changes of clothes just to have. No need to sit around in their own sweat like the last arena if it's not necessary.

It's almost just a pleasant day shopping, or at least that's what it feels like. They don't encounter many other tributes - after all, who would go looking idly through cologne and other frivolous things like that when the place is full of people who are supposed to try and murder you? - but careless as it may seem, Albert doesn't feel that they're in nearly as much danger this time around. Environmental things maybe, but the tributes? Jet and Albert are well trained and well equipped.

So he'll just take the chance to enjoy his fiance's company.

Personally, Jet's glad that his partner's accent is still intact, he really enjoyed hearing it and the way it sometimes twisted the sound of English words. Hearing 'yeah' turn to 'ja' just made that iciness melt a little more and he smiled.

Walking through the mall together was kind of nice, if they pretended this wasn't supposed to be a place where they were to fight for their lives. However, it didn't seem to produce much beyond extra changes of clothing (which were certainly useful).

It wasn't until they were walking past a group of perfume kiosks that Jet actually paused. He would have just walked past if it weren't for a passing glance that had shown him the names 'Felicity Worthington' and another that produced 'James Barnes (2).'

Perfume bottles with his friend's names on them were worth inspecting. He split off and stepped into the area with curiosity shining. What he saw was row after row of similarly shaped perfume bottles, each labeled with a tribute's name.

A half second later and Jet's not at his side anymore, but he hasn't gone far. Albert leaves off looking at the sunglasses - they're all ridiculously bedazzled or uselessly shuttered styles anyway - and joins his fiance at the perfume counter.

"Eau de Joly," he reads aloud, highly amused at the very idea of tribute branded perfumes. Didn't the Capitolites realize that after even a day in an arena all the tributes tend to smell like unwashed socks?

"Quite the discovery you've made here. I wonder what they think you smell like."

Jet grinned mischievously and headed to the 'L' section. "No clue. Let's find out."

Watch it be flowers or something, something completely ridiculous. Maybe it would smell like how he actually smelled, something he didn't know first hand, but he was aware was some kind of mix with ozone thanks to his cybernetics. Not that he smelled much like that these days, probably.

A moment or two of searching and he lifts one of the bottles, his name written in fancy curvy letters and made to sound like some luxurious scent everyone should want. Without too much preamble, Jet sprayed some on the back of his wrist. It smelled like cinnamon and vanilla...not the worst they could have done, but an exaggeration, he was sure.

"Could be worse." He stuck his arm out, offering his wrist to his partner for a whiff.

Two steps and Albert's joined Jet, tugging his arm up to his nose so he can smell. "Hm. I like it."

It doesn't exactly suit him, the vanilla too delicate a scent for so boisterous a person, but cinnamon is certainly right. He grins a bit, letting go of Jet's wrist. "I wonder what mine is."

Jet's mischievous grin only grew and he slid 'his' bottle into his fiance's pocket before moving over to the H-section.

"Let's find out." He picked up the bottle with Albert's name on it and held it a second, thinking. "Mint and pine."

His guess made, he took his partner's arm in his hand and sprayed a short spurt on the German's sleeve. Only a second later, the fabric began to smoke and sizzle.

"What the hell!?"

"Shit!" It takes Albert a surprisingly short amount of time to wriggle out of his jacket despite the backpack and paintball rifle being stuck to his back. It all falls in a pile together at his back and he flings the jacket down the walkway a short ways, hand flying to his wrist to make sure it's intact.

Barely even discolored, thank goodness. It seems the jacket protected him from most of it. "Acid. Damn gamemakers."

Jet grabs for Albert's wrist next, double-checking everything was fine before letting go again. Damn gamemakers indeed, he could've melted his fiance's freaking hand off.

Jet gave the bottle a scrutinizing look and even held it up to the light, nothing seemed odd about it. "Looks just like the other one. Bet you this isn't the only one that's like this, either."

He very nearly put it back, but then thought better of it. He snatched another one and offered it to the German. "Might be useful in a pinch."

"I don't think we're exactly equipped to carry around a bunch of bottles of acid right now, but we should come back at some point and gather a few, I agree." One he can handle though, and slips it very carefully into a pocket of his pack, not wanting to risk it breaking in a pants pocket if he happens to get in a fight before they settle somewhere.

He picks up the jacket, careful not to touch where Jet had sprayed the stuff even though it looks as though its finished eating away at the fibers. Just to be safe, he uses his knife to get rid of the cuff. It looks a little silly but at least now he's not in any danger of the acid being slow to dissipate and burning him again as he puts the jacket back on. He'd rather use it like this than risk a potential altercation in going back to the sports store. By now other tributes will have descended on it en mass for the readily available supplies.

"I wonder what other 'useful' things we'll find," Albert remarks to Jet wryly, smirking.

Jet scoffed and shook his head. "Dunno if I want something more or less exciting than that. Let's just keep looking, maybe there'll be a kitchen section or something."

With knives and towels and a slew of other potentially useful things. Department stores had lots of good supplies and knickknacks, there was bound to be something they could use.

"Heaven forbid. We both know you do more damage to yourself with kitchen implements than anything else," he cuffs Jet on the shoulder, heading towards the nearest stairs. He's totally not trying to get out of range before Jet retaliates, nope.

"You ass!"

Jet balked even though he knew it was mostly true. Yet before he could even push at his partner's shoulder, the older man was off and out of reach. Retreating from what he must have known would be a swift retaliation.

Good thing Jet had long legs to catch up to him with.

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ARENA 11-PaneMall

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