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

[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.

[dividedgirlofmine]

She relaxes slightly, lowering the blade if not letting go, as she looks his torso over with a thoughtful eye. "At least you intruded after I got my dress on," she says grudgingly. She smooths the skirt of her dress with her other hand, so it obscures the wrapped stumps she has instead of leg below the knee.

"It was a nice speech," she says, "even if it was stupid of you to make it then and there."

[aboveangrybees]

Yeah, he's glad she's dressed, that would have been exceptionally awkward if she hadn't been. Her hand movement draws his eye, but he doesn't linger his gaze there, instead looking away as he puts on the shirt that, while it fits, is a size too small. Better than being topless I front of a random woman. He had no body shame, but he had some sense of modesty.

"It was a risk, I don't regret it," he says it honestly. People might be surprised to learn he actually knew what he was doing and the risks he was taking. "Unfortunate those people died though," there's remorse but still no regret. He lost friends today.

[dividedgirlofmine]

"We all are," she says.

That he looks away while she has a blade out is awful trusting of him, she thinks. Probably too trusting. But the sort of man who'd make that speech would be. She can see the brand on his face better with his cheek turned. "So who'd you try to rescue?" she asks. She knows he wasn't one of the original suspects or he'd have been in the group cell with her that first night.

There's a purse display just a bit behind him. She sizes up which handbag is biggest--and how hard it'll be to climb it on her own.

[aboveangrybees]

Less trust and more a lack of fear. Not many things or people he fears and he doubts she could cause a killing blow before he could react. It's not so much an underestimation as it is he's hyper aware of her and her movements, even if his sight is turned away he can still hear.

He looks at her again, he'd noticed the brand, it looked older like Carlos', he'd guess she was one of the original occupants of the jail. Steve's would be far more healed by now if he didn't keep getting punched. The abuse has really made a mess of his face. "Carlos, not that I did a very good job of it," his tone is actually bordering on wry.

[dividedgirlofmine]

"Well, my own didn't do so well either," she admits. "They're perfectly capable on their own, but it turns out that if they try to pull off a jailbreak together, they're too busy fighting like cats and dogs to keep track of where the guards are." She doesn't actually know all the details of Harley's and Roland's jailbreak attempt, but she can guess seeing as how they'd acted with each other when the three of them were locked up in that tiny cell.

Carlos, huh? She wonders...

She lowers her blade for now, leaning the flat against a stump. "Susannah Dean," she says, holding her fingers spread on her skirt, "by the way. I'm a friend of Carlos." One hand closes into a fist. The thumb and pinky of the other briefly fold under before she sticks that hand up and out to shake.

[aboveangrybees]

Steve wishes Bucky and him had a good excuse like that, but in the end, Steve saw the guards in the direction he knew other people were, had seen them head that way not even a moment before, and- Well, he should have thought better of dragging Bucky down with him when he decided to cause a distraction and wound up getting them caught.

If Bucky weren't involved, he wouldn't have regretted that action.

His eyes is drawn to her hands again, watching the movement carefully. 13? District 13 maybe? She's a friend of Carlos and set her blade down, so perhaps she's also involved in the rebellion. It was a chance worth taking.

He gives a nod before reaching to take her hand and shakes it, tempering his strength back. "Steve Rogers, Carlos is a good man, so a friend of his is good in my book."

[dividedgirlofmine]

Good. He understands her, hopefully. "That's exactly how I feel," she says. She sizes him up, looking from top to bottom. "Speaking as a new friend, Mr Rogers, I was wonderin' if you could help me with something. You see that big old purse up there?" She points to the one in question, which is on display against the wall quite over both their heads. It's red and nearly the size of a shopping bag. "Mind boosting me up to get that down? I promised a purse for a friend and I figure biggest is best."

It looks like it ought to fit the clothing for Jake and Roland, anyhow.

[aboveangrybees]

His eyes travel to the bag in question and gives a nod. Yeah, easiest and quietest way to get that down would be to boost her up to reach it. He could probably jump or throw something, but that chances taking the whole shelf down. And he noticed that her legs, or more lack there of. So, boosting it was.

Besides, he could easily hold her up with one arm and not strain at all.

"Don't mind at all, Ms. Dean," he kneels down as he says it, moving close so she can grab on to him to be picked up or get help onto his shoulders. He figures she doesn't want to be picked up like most would a child. "Should be able to reach it with you on my shoulders."

[dividedgirlofmine]

"That's what I was thinking," she agrees, scrambling up onto his shoulders with the ease of someone's who's climbed other people more than once. "It's Mrs, though, for what it's worth."

[aboveangrybees]

"Noted," where he comes from, saying Miss was polite til you learned one way or another, but he won't forget now.

Steve seems completely unbothered by her climbing up on to him, he's had enough people do it from time to time both in the war and sparring with people like Natasha. Once she seems to have a perch and a hold, he stands up with a grace and steadiness that's almost unnatural for the added weight of a woman on his shoulder, but he seems to not be putting in any extra effort at all. He wastes no time moving to get her in reach of the bag.

[dividedgirlofmine]

Oh, she understands that. After all, it's the same way where and when she comes from. But she takes a certain bittersweet satisfaction at the acknowledgement of her widowhood.

"You're good at this," she says, as she grabs hold of the particularly large purse she'd spotted by its straps--someone who wasn't from so far in the past as either of them might have compared it to Tinky Winky's--and pulls it off the shelf. "Practice a lot?"

[aboveangrybees]

"In a way. I have a friend who puts me through the ropes," he smiles a little at the memory of sparring with Natasha. By now she's climbed on him enough for him to know how to adjust to weight on his shoulders without a blink.

"Got it? Or you need something else while you're up there?" His voice carries an amused tone as he says it.