thearena | (no subject)

WHO | Don and Tony, and then OPEN
WHAT | Donatello has a very bad reaction to the radiation. One that's decidedly deadly...to other people at least.
WHEN | Soon after the earthquake, and through the rest of this week~
WHERE | First by the canyon at P6, then throughout the Arena~
WARNING/NOTES| DEATH. Also violence and a monster eating things.

It hurt. His right thigh was starting to spasm and burn.

Donatello was able to keep himself and Tony safe during the earthquake, but it couldn't stop the burning that was starting in his leg. Or the pounding in his head. Or the vomiting. He'd stayed away from the ruins since Lottie had died, but he began to realize that it was a moot point.

The burning in his thigh had started where his cut was. The cut on his leg that the roach monster had given him back home. He knew that the monster had been infected with a virus, a mutagen that was created from the faux aliens from their blood had further mutated. Don had suspected that he might have had a risk of infection. But at least before he had not been sickened. Somehow Panem had the technology to stave off the mutagen's obvious effects.

Not anymore. Not with all of the radiation around. With him already technically mutated by radiation, infected by an irradiated mutagen, then further aggravated by the Arena--

Don fell to his knee with a groan as his leg spasmed further. So much for making breakfast.

"Tony-"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dean managed to keep himself near enough to his burrow, but far enough that he could hunt and scavenge to keep himself as alive as he could. With the sickness still destroying his body, and getting his weight down to way below where it should be, he was starting to become weak. He even scraped his knee on a tree and it bled for over twenty minutes. He decided he had to take a rest, or he was going to pass out.

Bleeding, leaning against a tree, he closed his eyes, maybe to sleep, or just to get some energy. Enough to hopefully get him back to the burrow.

Dean wasn't going to get back to the burrow. Not if Donatello had anything to say about it. Everything that moved was one of two things in his current, mindless state: food, or a threat. And he wasn't particularly hungry.

The grass and bushes around Dean began to rustle gently, with a very low sound coming from them. It almost sounded like a faint purr, a small rumble in the wind.

Dean was almost asleep when he heard the rustle of branches, grass, and the bushes near him. He didn't have a weapon, and he couldn't run, not in this state. He started to get that feeling, the imminent one, where he knew he must be done for.

Though he tried to move, he couldn't. His legs were sore and weak, as was the rest of his body. It took all his strength to stand up, "A-alright ya monster. Come get me."

Understood. Somehow. Something deep in Donatello recognized the voice, recognized the words. Perhaps there was a second of hesitation because of that.

A very short second, unfortunately, if Dean was hoping to think up some better last words.

Instantly there was one very scaly, very large green hand with sharp, bloodied talons shooting out from the bushes. It reached for Dean, grabbing, swiping at him like a bear.

Before he knew it, there was nothing Dean could do. He thought it was some monster than the games cooked up to kill him, to get rid of him. But at this point, he was so weak and alone that he really didn't give a shit.

"Son of a bitch!" was one of the last things he was able to yell out before he knew his voice was gone, the wounds on his body causing him dire agony, and the hunter hoping it would be over soon.

It was still talking. Well, Donatello would just have to fix that. This time he came out fully, his maw wide and ready to strike. He would bite this thing's head off. He would shut it up and then it would be one less threat.

Dean was ready to die. At least he'd be out of here, and wouldn't have the cold blood of anyone else on his hands. It was best for his sanity, and then maybe he could stop feeling like death without the actual thing ever coming.

"Kill me. Please."

Dean didn't need to ask twice. The creature's mouth completely covered Dean's head and neck in an instant. Then, those sharp, sharp teeth snapped together like a trap, making to sever Dean's neck.

At least, for Dean, the end would be relatively painless now, as the monster swallowed Dean's head whole.

Ding Dong the Dean is Dead. Which old Dean? The Winchester Dean. Ding Dong the hunter Dean is deeeaaaad.

Dean was breathing for the very last moment, but his body went limp, and he didn't even scream in pain.
At last.
It was over.

Over, indeed. At least for now. As he crunched down on the head with his teeth, Don made - in his own reptilian way - a note as to where the rest of Dean was. For later, when he was hungry, as he stomped off.