thearena | week five; open

Entry tags:

week five; open

Who| Roland, Pruna, anyone
What| educational movies and then murder
Where| the Cineplex and general third floor
When| week five
Warnings/Notes| Violence. Not quite death, as that takes place here, but murder. Video of childbirth, if you click the link below. Will update if necessary.

((ooc: The thread with Pruna, of course, has to happen last, but characters can come across Roland on any point during this. Cineplex, escalator, at a tribute themed store, anywhere in between.))

It's smartest, of course, to stick close to whoever you trust in enemy territory - which is everywhere, in the arenas. But what's smart isn't always what happens, so for the time being Roland is alone. He avoids the stairs while going from the first floor to the second, goes through the theater instead, but losing the risk of high traffic means he catches a glimpse of what's playing there. Unfortunately for him, that happens to be this. Roland's particular type of vision is not suited to see movies quite as they were intended, but of projected film such as this he sees enough. In the darkness of the room he goes a little red and for a good moment just stares, taken completely by surprise.

After that he makes his way further upward, carefully up the deadly moving staircase and to the third floor. It's not really strange, this one, because for all its stores are modeled off the worlds of the tributes, that doesn't strike Roland as too much different from the attention some of the more popular tributes get in the Capitol. Still a little strange though, the variety of all their different worlds laid out in front of him like this, and Roland lets himself peer into a lot of the shops as he passes them. He isn't trying to get a glimpse of anyone inside, though he's aware that may happen. He's just curious, trying despite himself to figure out what that one toy is. Yes, that, that there. What is that?

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Killing Albert had not calmed her raging thoughts as she thought it would, it didn't make the stupid nightmares go away and it didn't make her feel in control.

She didn't understand, she was meant to be strong. She was strong. But everything was going wrong and it was stupid. Everything was stupid. How could she make sure Sandy was strong when she couldn't even be certain she was strong herself.

She was hanging around near the gift shops, she had explored her own but it had made her feel strange so she had left. She spotted the man and snuck closer, knife in hand, the sword was strapped to her back, a back up but not her first choice. It was a bit big for her to wield properly. She watched him to see if he had anything worth taking.

Although Roland is looking as he's long ago been taught whenever in unsafe territory, checking every quadrant around him as he moves, there's too much to hide behind here. Too much of it that makes noise - all the little toys and statues clicking, whirring, recorded voices shouting out signature phrases of one tribute or another at automatic intervals. Not the safest place to be, difficult to detect movement from any actual people, but every area of this place is like that, in one way or another.

Through some crude arrangement of a belt and a cell phone case, Roland's gun is holstered at his left side. His purse hangs at his right, and while not particularly full, looks as if it's got something fairly heavy in it.

He continues walking along, trying to strike some balance between being aware of his surroundings and being curious about them. Could be something useful up here, if he can just finish figuring out what all of it is.

It had taken Pruna some time to not jump at every noise in these places, it was weird and distracting and she didn't like it at all.

She took in his gun, guns were bad. Guns could kill before you realised it. Guns were fast, faster than Pruna could react to. She had to be careful.

But he had to have other cool stuff as well, if he had a gun. He had to have found stuff, or stolen it or been given it. She followed him, still watching for any openings, any opportunities to attack or to dart in and grab his stuff.

Roland takes a few steps closer to one particular shop, happening to turn his back to precisely the spot Pruna is hiding as he leans forward to study one of its shelves. He doesn't know that she is there, and his guard has at no point been let down, but the illusion of an opening may be the best she is going to get.

She seems to pick up on this. He's obviously not stupid. He's aware of his surroundings. But surely that will be better, it's one thing killing stupid people who don't even realise you're there until they are almost dead. Killing stupid people wouldn't make her strong.

But a challenge... She ran fowards, bare feet silent on the floor as she swung the ice skate towards his head and bringing the knife to his side. As quick as she could.

Movement out of the corner of his eye. Roland turns, has no time to really assess who it is who's attacking - only that there are two weapons coming at him, too many to block, so he drops, trying to roll into the legs of his attack to try and make them lose their balance.

She saw him coming and rolled herself, off to the side to avoid the collision. She had known he would be fast, a real challenge. Not like the other stupid man who couldn't even deal with baby pain.

She remained in a crouch, knife in hand still, waiting to see what he would do before attacking again.

That gives him time he wasn't expecting to have, time to come up in a crouch himself and dip for his gun - and to see his attacker. His hand doesn't grasp the gun's handle, but stays near it. "Leave," he says. "Walk away, out of my line of sight. I won't go after you if you do."

She saw his hand go for the gun and frowned, eyes flickering from his hands to his face and then to the space around him. She ignored his words, he obviously thought he could win, that she was weaker than him. Well he would learn differently.

She moved, as quick as she could though she knew she couldn't be faster than a gun, she still tried. Aiming for that hand, trying to disarm him before he could do anything.

He might be able to draw and shoot before her weapon makes it, might, even so close as this. It isn't as if it's a line he hasn't crossed before, lethal self defense against a child, but that very fact may be why he hesitates.

Doesn't get more than a slash across the side of his hand for that hesitation, partly because he's lucky and partly because the hesitation had not been long. He's already scrambling backward, standing, toppling a square, four-foot tall display of cheap jewelry in her general direction in hopes that that'll give him enough time to get out of the store they're currently in. Distance. Distance, if he truly doesn't want to hurt her, enough to figure something else out.

The knife connected but he still got away, she skittered backwards away from the falling fixture and then scrambled over it, running after him as fast as she could.

She wasn't as fast as Sandy, but she was still a good runner, and she kept him in her sights the whole time. She wished her dagger was one she could throw, but she wasn't sure how accurate she could be whilst running. So she kept it in her hand and continued after him.

Roland doesn't waste time looking backward, listens instead. His hands are fast and his legs fast enough, but he's got no illusions as to how that particular type of speed will compare against the sheer energy of a child. If he gives it time, anyway.

He keeps a distance from the railing around that hole that slices away the majority of this floor; if he wanted to look down into the other levels of this place he's sure it'd be lovely, but as things stand he's more focused on the shops, on finding one in particular. That Legion store, what did it look like again? It's a little too far away for Roland's comfort, once he spots it, and for a second he does turn, drawing his gun and twisting around to fire a shot meant to clip the edges of whatever sign or bit of furniture is nearest his pursuer.

Edited 2014-10-09 22:18 (UTC)

She forced herself to keep running, even though the shot had been close. She hadn't found any way to avoid or block these gun things, and so she had just categorized them as unbeatable weapons and the only way to go against them was to keep going anyways and be fast, hope you landed the killing blow before one of the bullets hit you.

That one didn't and so she continued running towards him, looking around for things she could use to her advantage.

"You do be being a baby." She shouted at him, trying to make him pause. "Do you always be running away?"

"Oh at every chance I get," he calls back, only turning far enough to scan the store he's currently passing. Sounds as if being nearly shot didn't force her to take cover, which means either experience or extensive training. Much more than even he'd had at that age. Not particularly promising, but maybe he can take a hint from her words and use them to make her angry.

"Look like you'd do the same," he says, finally reaching the Legion store and ducking into the racks of costumes. "No shame in being a coward." The last time he'd been here had been weeks ago, but apparently the cleaning machines had better places to be than here, because Roland spots at least a couple of the 'traps' the boy'd set in and around the store. Almost clever, the way they'd been designed to seem real while being mostly harmless, and that makes them suit Roland's purpose very well. Most seem still covered with clothes and costumes, hidden amidst what looks at first glance like just a large mess. A couple types are of more interest to Roland than the others, and he isn't hidden well at all among these racks of clothes even when he hunches over but hopefully he can get up enough time to spot a good one and try to lead this girl toward it.

"I do no be being a coward." She hissed at him as she ran, he didn't even know her and she wasn't the one running away like a stupid baby. He didn't know anything because he was stupid and a coward. A real coward.

They ran further towards a different store and she felt like she had almost caught up with him when her feet hit a patch of ground that looked no different but made her bare feet slip out from under her, she swore as she waved her arms and tried to keep her balance.

And of course, matters leave Roland's control right away. Don't they always at times like this? Because this particular 'harmless' trap is far too close to that hole in the floor for his comfort, and the railings around it have far too much space underneath them. He sees she's still trying to keep her balance but abandons his sorry excuse for a hiding place anyway, moving closer. No time to tell her he's not trying to attack, but he's fairly sure she wouldn't believe him anyway.

Her feet went out from under her, control lost. She could practically hear Kant in her head, you lose control you lose your life, keep that knife up little one. Hands came out to scramble at the floor and the next thing the man was darting towards her, she brought her knife up, slashing wildly at him, even as she continued to slide, trying to keep him away.

She notices the edge and for a moment fear flashes through her eyes, fear that is quickly banished as her spare hand reaches out to try and grab the railing.

Dodging the knife while staying close enough to help her is a careful balance. A balance he doesn't keep, because the edges of this slick patch on the ground aren't even and he's too close to her anyway. His feet come out from under him, his hip hits the floor with a painful crack, and his hands fly out to try and save them both.

One, his left, covers her hand, and that's well and good but it means his right, the one lacking its index and middle fingers, is the hand that has to halt all his momentum and then support all his weight. One hand on her, one on the railing, and he could only ever have kept his grip on one.

His right-hand fingers lose their grip. He begins, with a sickening feeling and a flash of powerful deja vu, to fall.

As he grabs her her hand slips off the railing, he's too heavy. Heavy people were useless at holding on and climbing. It was the one good thing, she thought, about the fact that at this rate she would never get any bigger.

The thought was fleeting though because a second later she was falling through the air. And the ground came with pain, so much pain, pain and cold. But no water... last time she had fallen into ice there had been water and she had drowned. She couldn't move though and she forced her eyes to open, in case he had survived, in case she still had to fight...

There's the wait, brief but very long. His stomach lurches, and he tries to move midair, does his best to move the two of them in the seconds that he has.

Impact.

He does in fact survive, though even if he doesn't die from this, Roland knows he won't be walking away from it. He'd tried to shield the girl as he fell, take most of the impact, but he has no idea how well it may have worked. He looks down at her well as he can without moving his head. Still can't tell. "Girl," he manages, because names are the last thing on his mind. "Can you move?"

"Yes." She lied scowling at him, though her attempt at even moving her arms for protection against him failed, her fingers twitched and pain ran through her.

"Can you be moving..."

"I'm never going to move again," he says, and says it with some ease, considering the circumstances. These things happen in fighting. Calculated risks, unforeseen consequences. "Not in this body, anyway."

Besides, dying in the arena - while not without its own element of fear and uncertainty - is not completely without hope. "Best go if you can. Others might... come." It was pain that interrupted his speech just now. Pain beginning to make itself known. He makes a small noise with it, breaths becoming deeper and more brief. "Take my purse. Has bullets. For the gun."

At least she had killed him, even if she was dying as well. At least she hadn't been killed by someone who had survived. She blinked at his words though.

"Why... that do be being... stupid..."

He stops trying to look at her, instead letting his eyes follow whatever direction his head is angled. Up, in this case. It's quite a ways, but maybe not the furthest he's ever fallen. Not that that makes a difference to him now.

"Stupid to fight someone does... doesn't want to fight you. Take the damn bullets. And gun. 's in the holster."

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week five; open

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