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

[risewithit]

"You don't look fine," she comments mildly, extricating herself from his grip as gently as possible to keep from hurting his hands even worse. Because...Jesus. From the way the mark on her face still aches, she can only imagine how his arms must feel.

"I'm trying to do just that, but there's kind of an obstacle course of...body parts." She pales visibly on the last two words.

[honeyibrokeharlem]

"Maybe fine is a strong word." But he isn't a smear on the ice, so close enough.

Honestly, pain is different for him. It has been ever since the accident. The process of transforming--contorting bones, overextended tendons, demolished muscles rebuilding themselves until they bulged, organs crushing under the new weight and then building on themselves--is extraordinarily painful. In comparison, a lot of other things are far more bearable.

But he's well aware that other people don't have the dubious advantage of perspective. Her jaw looks bad, and she doesn't look ready to face all the bodies head-on.

"Don't look at them," he says firmly. "You don't have the time for that right now." He jerks his head towards his shoulder, turning in place so his back is to her. "Hold onto me and I'll skate you through it. I need to get off the ice too."

[risewithit]

"I can handle some dead bodies," she protests. She's seen plenty of awful--okay, most of it in photographs and on computer screens, true--and she's experienced plenty of herself. But this is nothing like finding Koenig's body or looking at photos from a war zone. This is a war zone, and the carnage here is on a completely different level than anything she's witnessed in person before.

There's a part of her that wants to protest she can get off the ice on her own, too, but she's not so proud she can't take help when it's offered. Especially not when he seems confident in his ability to help her get out of here faster. So she rests her hands on his hips and gets ready to move when he does. "Thank you."

[honeyibrokeharlem]

"Just because you can handle it doesn't mean it's not hard." He doesn't know if she can handle it or not, but he does know that it takes a while before you're used to them, before they're just part of the scenery. He hopes for her sake that she never reaches that point.

"Don't mention it."

Once upon a time, he ice skated with Betty a lot, whenever they hit a wall in the lab and they decided they should do something romantic. Admittedly, they never had to skate around severed limbs, but really, it wasn't so different from avoiding toddlers who had face planted on the ice. At least, that's what he's going to tell himself.

He does a good job of avoiding obstructions. It's harder when there's weight behind him, but he manages it okay. When they get to the exit, he has to catch himself on the wall with his elbows, grimacing as his skin stretches and pulls on his burns. "You'll need to open the door." His hands are pretty useless at the moment.

[risewithit]

She'll have to learn to handle it sooner or later, and not just if she's going to survive here. A good field agent has to know how to handle nasty scenes.

"Right," she says, reaching with one hand for the wall and shuffling around him to reach it. The lock is one of those long steel bars you have to lift out of its slot, and it's freezing cold to the touch. She could go for some gloves right now, and also some real clothes.

She pushes the door open and steps through, wobbly-legged on her skates and shivering head to toe, and holds it open for him to follow.

[honeyibrokeharlem]

He follows, and once he's off the ice, he's about as wobbly as she is. He leans down, grimacing as he has to pull his laces apart.

"Get your skates off quickly." They wouldn't help run away if they were still on, but they could be workable weapons off. He just wishes that it didn't hurt to use his hands.

"I'm Bruce, by the way. You?"

First thing he will do once these damn things are off will be to grab sensible clothes. Then he will scour the place for medical supplies and survival equipment.

[risewithit]

Even his name sounds familiar--from the tribute list? No, she doesn't remember seeing it when she first checked, so he must have arrived after her, and she's spent the last week in jail.

"Skye," she says, managing a smile as she unties her skates and kicks them off. "Here, let me."

It has to be painful to deal with laces with his hands in that condition, so she crouches down to untie his skates the rest of the way for him.

[honeyibrokeharlem]

"Oh, hey, that's--" He bites his tongue, because despite his pride, she's right. He'll only hurt himself by doing it alone. "Thank you."

He pulls his feet out of the skates when she's done.

"I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, Skye. I'm going to go looking for bandages. We can look around for some ice for your jaw too, but I won't be offended if you want to head out alone."

After all, this is supposed to be a fight to the death, and they're strangers. Neither of them have any proof that the other won't stab them in the back.

[risewithit]

"My jaw will live." She shrugs, wiggling the laces out of the skates and stuffing them as surreptitiously as possible under the strap of her ridiculous costume. The might come in handy later. "My jaw makes me look kind of badass, like don't mess with that chick with the black and blue face, you should see the other guy."

So the other guy was a heavily armored Peacekeeper who got out of the encounter scott free... Nobody needs to know that.

"But I'll tag along. Two always makes a better team than one." She studies him curiously, because that feeling that she's missing something, something so totally obvious, is chafing at her.

Might as well try the direct approach. "I feel like I know you from somewhere."

[honeyibrokeharlem]

Bruce lets out a rough halfway laugh, even as he nods his thanks to her. "Well, it definitely makes you look tougher."

Although at the mention of possibly knowing him, he immediately clams up. It's instinct. Usually, when people know him, they either plan on capturing him or using him as a weapon.

"Maybe you do. Most people don't really know me as Bruce anyway." He gestures for her to follow him as he starts walking away from the rink, though she probably won't want to follow him if she really does know who he is. "Dr. Bruce Banner, at your service."

[risewithit]

She definitely recognizes that name, from old news articles about an explosion at Culver U, conspiracy theories after the Battle of New York, and more recently from barely comprehensible science tirades curtesy of FitzSimmons.

There's also what she's attempted to piece together about the Avengers on her own, relating back to points one and two. But she remembers the enthusiasm rolling off Simmons and Fitz like a physical magnetic force, and it makes her smile.

"Man, I have got a couple of scientist buddies back home who would kill to be in my shoes right now."