thearena | Gladiators don't feel things

WHO| Nasir and Black Tom Cassidy
WHAT| Nasir and Black Tom meet near the escalators. And by meet I mean they try and kill each other. One succeeds.
WHERE| Third floor
WHEN| Early week 3
WARNINGS| Violence, death

Nasir had one mission in this arena: prove his worth to the Capitol and in so doing keep them from letting him die for good and keep Agron and his brother alive. It was a mission he had failed.

After his last few fights, he'd tried to find a place to retreat. Gannicus had given him his master key and it proved useful but Nasir couldn't hide himself away constantly, broken arm, broken nose, sliced stomach or not. He went to the bookstore for a time, flipping through his own biography, looking at the pictures there, remembering a time when he fought for a cause he believed in. Even his past slavery was preferable to this torment. His dominus had never tortured him so.

He believed it was time to head to the food court and, after adjusting the bandage around his stomach, made from some shirt he found, he grabbed his knife and headed out.

He stopped not far from the escalators as he heard someone. His pulse immediately quickened. He was in no condition for another fight.

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Tom, by contrast, aside from the split lip that links his mouth to the facial hair he's keeping fastidiously groomed in the salons, is in excellent condition. He hasn't exactly blossomed in this Arena, but he hasn't wilted like so many others. It's conditions that he's suited for, that his expertise lends itself well to.

So when he walks around the escalator and approaches the man skulking and hunching, he practically swaggers. He swings his cane in a lackadaisical way that makes it clear that while it helps the slight limp, it's actually found much greater purchase as a club.

He clicks his tongue like a schoolmarm. "You're really wandering around dressed like that? Someone might see you."

"All of Panem sees me. I have no cause for shame due to dress." The other causes of shame though were clearly seen on his exposed body and the brand on his face.

He took in Tom. Only superficially injured and while the limp could normally be taken advantage of, Nasir no longer had the agility and speed he relied on. The club had a longer reach than his knife.

He was going to die if he got into a fight with this man.

"Yet I would have one less see me. I have no desire to fight you." But he knew, if this man was like him, that it wouldn't matter.

"Should have been stealthier, then."

Tom leans against the escalator, cat-like in his smug assessment of the situation. Nasir, impressive as his body may be (stature notwithstanding), is in no position to quarrel.

"I suppose you're familiar with the concept of a hold-up?" He leans forward and impishly pokes Nasir in the shoulder with the tip of the cane. He isn't planning on letting Nasir walk away no matter what, but he does enjoy toying with people.

Nasir smacked the cane away with the back of his hand, the fingers of which were still clenched around his knife. He might be vulnerable but he was not going to act like he was.

"Seek other mark to rob. I've nothing of worth save knife and cane presents more value."

Instead of taking a step back, he held his ground. He wasn't going to run this time. He wasn't going to win this arena. He wasn't going to prove victorious in a fight. If he had a shot at winning back the crowd, it would have to be in his final stand.

Tom pokes with the cane again, this time tapping it under Nasir's chin as if to make him look Tom in the eyes.

"Perhaps I want the knife as a trophy."

And with his mind made up, he throws a surprisingly strong kick at Nasir's stomach.

In his state and with Black Tom so close, there was no way for Nasir to avoid the kick. He not only reeled back he fell onto the floor, yelling-- screaming. The knife dropped from his hand and he clutched his bandaged stomach. The blood from his reopened wound began to seep through it.

Panting, working through the pain, he reached for his knife and attempted to rise to his feet before Tom could attack again but his movements were slow.

The scream draws a flash of sadistic glee from Tom's eyes. There's a moment of near-gluttonous satisfaction, a stark reminder that man is capable of being all the more predatory than beast.

Tom thinks the term is "to beat someone like a rented mule" as he begins to whale on Nasir with the cane.

There were no more screams from Nasir. Simply grunts, and stifled cries as the blows landed on bruised flesh, cuts, and his broken arm. The latter of which had him open his mouth but the pain was such that he couldn't voice anything.

He couldn't die like this. The Capitol would never seen him as worthy if he were beaten, without any chance of fighting back.

Lying on the floor, dazed, Nasir still managed to reach out to get his arm around Tom's leg and pull as hard as he could.

Tom hits the floor when Nasir pulls him down. It's almost comical, like a river-crosser being pulled into an undertow.

If he had any intention of showing Nasir mercy, that leaves the instant he hits the ground. He grunts in pain, all that weight on his bad leg, on his hip, and regains the upper hand as quickly as possible.

He reaches forward with his hand to smash Nasir's face against the marble floor.

Nasir didn't have time to get away or even get up. As soon as he'd lifted his body off the ground Tom's hand forces his head down hard against the floor. The crack his already broken nose makes is audible not just to Nasir but to Tom and the cry that follows echoes through the mall.

There was something hard and small stuck in Nasir's mouth and it took him half a second to realize it was part of a tooth. He spat it out along with a copious amount of blood and tried to get out of Tom's reach. His body moved slowly, in fact it was more like he was writhing in place with one hand feebly scrabbling at the tile floor and a pool of blood forming beneath him.

Tom drags himself back up, taking care not to slide on Nasir's blood. He places a foot on Nasir's back and rests all his weight there, pinning him.

He takes Nasir's knife. "Thank you, lad. That's all I wanted."

And he puts his fingers in his hand and whistles, as if summoning the Roombas that lurk around the corners, watching. He has no control over them, he knows, but it'll look dramatic on the cameras.

It was difficult to concentrate on anything but the pain but through it Nasir felt the slickness of the floor beneath him and the weight pressing down on his back. He heard Black Tom speak and then the whirring of the Roombas, devices he had not recognized but knew enough to keep away from.

Nasir dragged his fingers across the floor, as if inch by inch, he could free himself and escape. There were no more cries but heavy, ragged breaths as he pressed his forehead to the tile and tried to kick off with his feet. It didn't work. He was tired. He was faint. And there was an anxiety, no, a fear building inside him. This was it. Either the Capitol would bring him back to life or they wouldn't. That in itself wouldn't be so terrifying if Agron and his brother's fate weren't bound to his.

Nasir turned his head as the Roombas came closer. He watched them. And then pain and the blood flowing from his body caught up to him. His body went slack as his awareness fled.

Tom doesn't wait to see what becomes of Nasir. Maybe it's the supervillain tendencies he has, but he's perfectly fine turning his back on an opponent who's still alive and leaving them to a nebulous fate. The Roombas nudge and push at the fallen gladiator and start to drag him away.

Tom hears the escalator crunch away at something, though, and that tells him all he needs to know.

Gladiators don't feel things

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