thearena | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who| Bro Strider and Justin Law
What| Bro decides to go for his first kill
Where| Music store
When| Late week 3
Warnings/Notes| TBA

Bro is starting to think he preferred his first arena, all things considered. There was a different feeling to it, it had a more serious feel to it. Like you were constantly in danger. He isn't liking this one nearly as much. He's bored. It's not as if he likes the whole killing games, but he doesn't necessarily approve of how friendly everyone's been. Of course there's been killing, but not nearly enough. He doesn't like how awkward he's felt at the prospect of killing this arena, really. Like he's committing some social faux pa, when really it's a fucking death arena and social etiquette should kind of go out of the fucking window. The faster everyone dies, the faster the nightmares ends and they can go back to the cushy lifestyle of the Capitol for a couple of months until the next arena.

It's not that hard to wrap your head around. Really, it's not. So it's around that time that he makes the conscious decision to stop shying away from killing people and just fucking go for it if the time comes. Sure, he'll avoid people he knows well, but anyone else is fair game. It's not that he's outright looking for anyone to kill as he roams the mall that day, but it's certainly in the back of his mind. He's got his slingshot made out of panties, a pocketful of marbles and a few other things up his sleeves in the event he lands himself in a fight.

Of course when he passes by the music store, he can't resist the temptation to dip into it. He's never quite found a place as good as the one Dave destroyed with his ass as it came in on the meteor, so he's not expecting much. But lo and behold, when he slips inside and comes upon someone else, he realizes that now is the time to get his first kill. It's the perfect opportunity, after all. No one else around, just him and the guy several feet away.

Speaking of, Bro thinks he's seen him around before, but he has no goddamn idea who he even is. If memory serves, he's one of the avoxes or something. That just makes him even more determined to kill him off, because he's a sympathetic bro. An arena is no place for people like them. Whatever makes them obey probably makes arenas a hellish place. So in a way, he'd be doing him a favor! No one can judge him for it.

So he holds up his slingshot, readies a marble, then sends it flying at the avox's head in order to get his attention.

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Justin can't communicate, can't express himself, can't be anyone. But music, that's something he's always had, something that's always been with him. They can't take that away, especially when he's all alone and he can risk putting on headphones and turning up the loudest music he can find.

When the marble hits him in the head, he panics, tears the headphones and shoves them away, turns towards whoever just hit him with his head bowed, submissive. Hopefully, his lapse in appropriate behavior will be ignored.

It's not exactly the reaction Bro is expecting, but it further cements just how fucked up avoxes really are. Anyone else would be turning around and demanding to know what the fuck he did that for, or even attacking back. Something, other than this... defeated, apologetic air he's getting from the person in front of him. It's kind of sick.

He throws up his hands, giving Justin a look. He isn't wearing his shades, so his orange eyes are looking at him pointedly. "Is that it?" he asks, trying not to sound condescending. He's an ass, but he also knows it's not really the guy's fault. "You just gonna stand there and do nothing?"

He looks down at the floor. There's no possible way that he can make eye contact, not now, not after he was caught doing something so wrong. So yes, he is just gonna stand there and do nothing.

The more time that passes, the more it becomes painfully clear that Justin isn't going to do anything more than just stand there. Bro lets out a scoff. "Man, they really have you whipped, don't they?" He sounds vaguely disgusted, but more annoyed. He'd gone into this expecting- hoping for a fight. This feels like killing a wounded animal, more than anything.

"Fight it." His voice is a command. "Don't just stand there like a little bitch. Fight whatever it is, whatever they did to you."

There's a command, an incredible, powerful command that he can't ignore, but it's a command to ignore the overwhelming commands burned into his mind. He glances up at the man, then back down, and he steps back. He won't stand there like a little bitch, but he might just run away.

It was a long shot, he supposes. Whatever the Capitol has done to him is clearly really strong. There's a part of him that doesn't want to do this without a fight, like it just makes it wrong somehow. But he guesses if he looks at it like he's putting the avox out of his misery like a wounded animal, then that somehow makes it less of a fucked up thing to do.

"Fine. Whatever." Again, he knows it's not his fault but there's still a part of him that sounds annoyed at how this is playing out. "Maybe you'll thank me for this later, who the fuck even knows." Bro reaches deep in his pocket, pulling out his shiv. You can bet your ass he has a shiv, because he's banned from sponsor weapons this arena so he's gotta make due. It's a well-made one, too. Perfect for the job. Then he's going to advance on Justin quickly, having gotten the sense that the avox was going to run away, so he hopes to get to him before he has much of a chance to do so.

He steps back. Time to fight. He has to fight. It's burned into his soul, deeper than the mental conditioning, deeper than anything they could possibly do to him here. He is a weapon.

So he falls back on instinct, grabs the nearest thing that he can defend himself with (a chair), and swings it up to block the shiv. He may be an Avox, but he is a weapon first and foremost, and he can kill without communicating with anyone.

Now this is unexpected. He'd thought the avox would just stand there, or at the very least run. But instead, he's defending himself. That makes Bro feel better, in a way. At least he's not killing something completely defenseless.

Bro adjusts his attack fast enough to avoid damaging the shiv against the chair, stepping back just enough so that he can aim a kick at the front of the chair- the intent being to drive the chair back into Justin, to use his own defense against him.

It's instinct and a lifetime of training that override the Avox conditioning. He lets go of the chair just as Bro's foot impacts with the wood, and jumps over it. Close enough, and he swings a fist at the stranger's face.

His reflexes are pretty damn good, good enough that when the fist comes at him, Bro can very easily dodge. But he doesn't. It's a spur of the moment decision to let the punch connect, and it does right with his jaw. It sends Bro reeling back, hand coming up to grab at it.

"Felt good, didn't it?" he grunts out- because that's why he did it. He imagines that for an avox, letting out some aggression like that must feel pretty damn good. So that's why he allowed it, because he fucking sympathises even if he does plan on killing the guy. It's fucked up what they did to him, so if he can let the guy have a little satisfaction before death, then he'll do that.

Except it doesn't feel good. He stumbles back, absolutely horrified. He can't believe he just did that. He just struck someone.

(Killing is one thing, he could probably kill, because when you kill there's no one staring at you afterwards, no one asking you how you feel)

There's nothing like satisfaction in his expression, just stark terror. He bows, pressing himself against the ground, and waits for the inevitable. Of course this man is going to kill him. He deserves that.

It's really not the reaction he's expecting. In his mind, he'd pictured it clearly; the punch would somehow help shake off the avox brainwashing. Justin would get amped up and put up an even bigger fight. But it quickly becomes clear that Justin is going to just give up. He can feel remorse radiating off of the avox, and it almost- almost- makes him feel guilty. But not quite.

"Are you for real?"

Whatever. If he's just going to give up like that, then Bro is just going to stab him. So with that thought, Bro lunges forward with the shiv, aiming right at his stomach.

A gut wound. Justin wants to deserve anything better than that, any less painful, easier death. If Bro had turned that blade towards Justin's throat, slit his neck open and let blood rain down, that would have been wonderful, even beautiful. But he knows he doesn't deserve something so elegant. He struck a Tribute, and so of course he deserves to die like this.

Justin doesn't cry out, not even soundlessly, just flinches and curls his hands into white-knuckled fists. He grits his teeth and waits for more killing blows.

In a way, it's a test just to see if he can really strike without Justin doing anything. It's also part spiteful, just because he's annoyed with the situation as a whole, but it's more the first than anything. He certainly doesn't want Justin to suffer overly long, so now that he knows Justin is just going to take it, he decides to end it. Reaching out, he grips hold of Justin's hair, yanking it back so that his throat is more clearly exposed, before quickly lifting the shiv and slashing it across the avox's throat hard.

The Avox does absolutely nothing. He just stands there and lets Bro slit his throat.

Bro is quick to follow up the gesture by jamming the shiv in the side of Justin's neck hard, before pushing at his head with the hand gripping his hair to send him stumbling back. He doesn't care so much about the shiv at this point, so he'll just take a few steps back. "Nothing personal," he murmurs, something he's said a lot this arena.

Then, he'll turn and leave the shop. He has no actual desire to watch the avox die.

In the past it's been nothing personal. It's always been nothing personal. But this? Justin can't help but feel like it's personal. He wasn't doing anything. He did something wrong, he wasn't good enough, he should have been better behaved, this is his fault.

He's flung back, hits the ground, and fumbles at his throat. He's dying, bleeding out everywhere and gasping for breath that isn't going to come. But he can't get angry. He can't hate the man in front of him. The only thing he can do is pull out the blade and hope he bleeds to death faster.

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