thearena | Mini Arena 3

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Mini Arena 3

The kids are picked up from the daycare bright and early, but by the Capitol instead of their parents. It's just like old times in the arenas, with only children to contend.

25 - 24 - 23

Stylists are starting to get used to the mini-arenas, though it doesn't mean they've been allowed to dress tributes in whatever they want. All the tributes will be dressed as proxy copy of a respective video game character. All tributes are reminded about the ticket rules for this round.

20 - 19 - 18 - 17 - 16

The platforms lift them up, and there is no cornucopia to be seen. The only way tributes will be able to help and protect themselves is if they go out of their way to harm another tribute and get the tickets, which will be tallied by their watches. The lights of the games flicker and glow within the dark. Classic video game fight tunes play overhead. Before them lay a great and stretching obstacle course, filled with animatronic enemies and various other hazards.

11- 10 - 9 - 8

They've all been warned, don't step off your pedestal early. They have also been warned to put on a good show. That's all this is about, a good show. None of them have been told that there can be multiple winners this time around.

5 - 4

3

2

The sound of the gong plays crystal clear across the opening. The games have begun.

[OOC: Remember, this is forwardated by a week.]

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Somehow...some way she had made it to the final stretch.

Blood ran down her arm from where the fox robot had almost ripped her arm off with it's hook.

Burns decorated her face on either side from slime and acid.

She ached all over and if she had to make a conservative estimate she would guess that she was probably 200% done with the Capitol and this bullshit arena. She could care less about how many tickets she might have earned in her desperate escapes. She could care even less then that about the odds of her still reaching the finish line being slim to none.

All she knew was she was in a Go-Kart and had set off tires squealing with one goal in mind.

Cross the Finish Line.

By the time Kenny emerged from the hallway to that final path, he was looking pretty worse for wear himself. The cute fluffy pink costume was torn and bloodied in several places, stained with slime in others, and his face was dirtied with a combination of those things; along with skin blotched and swollen from chemical burns. He limped toward the Go-Karts, practically crawling there, and while he was sore and exhausted he was still pretty pissed off, too. The anger--fueled by that last bit of energy drink or whatever the fuck it was, empty bottle discarded somewhere and forgotten--is what kept him going. Like several other times in his life, it could be a powerful motivator.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of someone several paces ahead, getting into one of the go-karts. Not just any "someone". The Tetris-Block girl, though her costume was all but unrecognizable at this point, with the glaring sign on her back. Holy fucking shit. She was still alive. Kenny had seen her a few times here, but always caught up in battle with allies to protect her. He didn't even think to bother having a shot at her, without getting his own ass handed to him in the process. Yet here she was, and with a greater opening than he'd seen before.

If he were in a better mental state, Kenny would be more likely to try and help rather than take advantage of the situation, especially given how he'd felt pity for her when he first learned about the plot to make her everyone's target. But now... he was in too much agony, too angry, too determined to think straight. He could actually fucking win this piece of shit arena. He could be done.

Sprinting toward the go-karts (which was more like limping and hopping over as fast as he could), Kenny plopped down into the seat and pressed down hard on the accelerator, and the vehicle went screeching after her. After his prize. He caught up easily, slamming the front of it against the rear of Sandy's kart as hard as he could without a second thought.

Maybe it was the exhaustion creeping up on her, or maybe it was the desperation to see this arena through to the end...but Sandy didn't even sense Kenny coming up on her till their cars connected.

The entire Kart shuddered and it's tires shrieked as the back end was lifted up for a moment before crashing back down. It wobbled and weaved as Sandy let out an unhappy yelp and cast an irritated glance over her shoulder to see who was coming at her.

"REALLY DUDE? FUCKING REALLY?" She was suddenly livid and beside herself with anger. It washed away the pain that was throbbing in her limbs or the constant stinging in her skin.

"Do you even know who I am!? Do you know how much I've been through? What the FUCK is wrong with you?"

She rarely expected people to pity her, but was it too much to ask for a little respect for having come this far?

Little did she know she was talking to someone who had probably died more times then every tribute here combined.

She was screaming something at him, and he could hear it all, but it barely registered in his pain-and-rage-fogged brain. Kenny didn't even bother to voice any kind of retort. There was only one thing in his mind right now, one goal, and that was to ice this chick and finally get the fuck out of here.

The go-kart's engine, along with the tires, made some kind of grinding groaning noise as he reversed it ever-so-slightly... only to peel forward and smash into her a second time.

Sandy grunted as the Kart's smashed together again and she jerked the wheel to the side to move out of his way. Being so light the cart had more speed but less weight to it then if an older kid had been driving it. That worked out against her as she came dangerously close to the wall and had to swerve back to avoid it.

Unfortunately in swerving back she smashed the side of her kart into Kenny's causing more damage to her own.

The impact caused his own go-kart to spin out a little, but Kenny gripped the wheel tight and made a hard left. This time the sides of the karts crashed into other, and Kenny's was getting just as fucked up as Sandy's. The impact threw him forward slightly, banging his ribs against the wheel and giving him a seriously painful case of whiplash. Fucking ouch.

But he wasn't going to lose, hell no. Grunting with pain and exertion alike, he threw the steering wheel around again, with the intent to somehow tangle their karts together so he could just drag her into a head-on collision somewhere. There were some stray pieces that had fallen into his seat, plastic and metal and the like; Kenny grabbed at them with one hand, and started wildly and aimlessly chucking them in Sandy's general direction, hoping to hit the actual driver and stun her somehow.

Sandy's eyes were watering from the wind and pain as her body strained under the pressure of the smashing. When bits of cart came flying at her she let out another string of curses in some alien tongue and began throwing them back. Her car shuddered and smoke began to rise from under her seat but she kept the pedal down hard.

"Leave me alone you rasfarken gaddafinga son of a tirpdog!"

She was pretty sure those were foul words, she'd only just learned them a few days ago.

Having seen what the drinks did to Gary, Punchy's abstained, but that doesn't mean that he has a clear head. Punchy's dizzy and frail from dehydration; his head throbs and his vision wavers at the corners. It's like everything's being seen through a pane of glass that won't settle into place. The blood loss doesn't help.

That's why it's easier to stay focused on a single task: protect Sandy Marko. Get that gutsy little girl who so angered the Capitol to the finish line. She'll be a human-shaped middle finger at everything the Capitol's been trying to do, all the spirit they've been trying to quash, and Punchy is eager to lay down his life for such a cause.

And honestly, he sees Sandy as something of a hero, someone he would be proud to come in second to. She took action while everyone else was milling around, chipping away at tiny tasks in hope of a future too bleary to be predicted.

He jumps into one of the Go-Karts and goes, slamming on the pedal to try and catch up to her - not to overtake her, but to defense her like a damn Chain Chomp hanging from the end of her car. And that's exactly what he's trying to do when he sees Kenny moving in for her.

He guns it, barreling towards the rapidly-shrinking space between them with a righteous yell. "Shove off, motherfucker! You don't know her like that!"

"You don't know her like that!"

His vision had been tunneled, practically, on fucking up the girl in front of him; so Kenny didn't see or hear the third approaching go-kart nor the teenage boy shouting at him until far too late. It promptly smashed between them, sending his own car spinning sort of diagonally across the road. It would have been comical if it didn't leave Kenny frantically fighting for the steering wheel, attempting in vain to wrest the damn thing back into control.

He slammed his foot on the brake, as if cracking down on some sort of panic button. The go-kart's tires screeched horribly, but it wasn't enough; he'd already flown too close to the wall on the other side. There was the bursting of glass and crunch of metal as the vehicle impacted, leaving the entire front of it little more than a mangled mess.

It all happened so quickly that Kenny didn't even have time to scream, the crash having thrown him forward onto the engine. The choking stench of smoke told him he needed to get away from there, now, a ball of burnt bloody pink fluff rolling off the side of the car just in time for the whole front of it to explode. All he saw was a bright flash of yellow light, the sound too deafening at point blank for him to hear it. And the car was thus totaled.

Mother of fucks.

His intentions may have been good but unfortunately for Punch and Sandy, the girls luck had run out

When Punchy smashed into Kenny a piece of his cart had broken off and Sandy's cart had run over it. The shard of twisted metal shredded her tire and her cart suddenly jerked hard to the side.

Sandy never even saw what had caused her crash. She just felt the pain of her seatbelt cutting into her shoulder, and then the sudden lurch in her gut as the seatbelt snapped and she was thrown from her car.

All her training in how to take a hit or how to fall couldn't save her from the speed of the impact. The sickening crack she heard as her body hit the wall twisted her guts and she was glad she hadn't had drank the drink they'd given her because she was sure it would be coming up now.

When the cart caught up to her it landed on her lower body and while she felt the pressure...she couldn't feel any pain from it.

Dazed and with her vision swimming she assumed she must be dying, after all she couldn't move what else could it be?

But her eyes continued to blink and her lungs shuddered with each breath. If she was dying...it was too slow.

Punchy isn't expecting the collision to feel like that. A wave of numbness zips through his body, from his palms against the steering wheel of the cart. His car spins but not off the road, not fast or disorientingly enough for him not to see what he's done.

He slams his break and slams his head against a metal bar on the car made for kids much shorter than him. Blood drips down his eyebrows, into his eyes. He ignores it as he kicks the car door open, contorting himself to get out of something too small for his six-foot-two body.

He pauses between the two cars crashed alongside his, then sprints to Sandy's.

A face came into her line of sight. He was...concerned. And that made her feel bad.

Her lungs were having a harder and harder time filling, was this the guy who had attacked her?

No it was just the person who'd tried to stop him. He'd tried to save her but it had all gone wrong. So horribly wrong.

"Thanks for trying." She wheezed with tears in her eyes.

She'd tried so hard to stick it to the Capitol, and had gotten less then ten feet from the finish line.

"G-go on...win." she rasped closing her eyes and feeling the numbness spreading up the back of her neck and along her scalp.

If this was her last arena, at least the other tributes had proved to her the Capitol couldn't ruin them all. Friends and strangers had stepped up to defend her.

And now everyone had seen who was willing to kill a little girl .

She'd died many different horrible ways. This one was surprisingly painless and peaceful.

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culturalappropriation - 2014-11-21 15:51 (UTC) - Expand

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korosu - 2014-11-21 18:15 (UTC) - Expand

Somehow Terezi has managed to drag herself this far. In the distance she thinks that she can smell something vaguely like the finish line... but it's a little difficult to finish in her condition. She drips a trail of blood behind her as she clutches her stab wound--more blood than she knows she can reasonably lose. She's bleeding out. Dying, slowly. But she made a promise to survive, and like hell is she going to give up on that.

Maybe, just maybe if she gets to the end, they'll call it good enough and patch her up. If not, she'll just have to bleed out all over their victory line, and they can just fucking deal with that.

But she has to make it there first, and with the way that everything is swimming dangerously, she's not entirely confident that it's going to happen.

He spots the Teal trail first. It just about makes his pusher stop alone. Only one bleeds that color here. He wonders who did it, but it doesn't matter. All what matters is that he finds her, and that by some miracle she's still alive.

Oh Mirth, please still be alive. She could make this. She could survive this. She didn't have to die, for once, neither of them had to.

Then he sees her, struggling there, and it tears out his pusher the rest of the fucking way. She's still moving. And it's killing her.

He's by her side in a second, running up and kneeling down. He puts a hand on her shoulder, then her hand, just to get her to stop and look up at him.

"LET ME," He says. "Let me take on care of the rest all of this."

She jerks at the hand on her shoulder, her first instinct to think that it might be another tribute trying to finish her off. She's just waiting for the knife to her back or chest or throat--anywhere that might kill her quickly. But there's a touch to her hand instead, and she hears his voice.

Relief floods her, followed quickly by guilt. She promised him that she would make it this time, and here she is barely alive. But he doesn't remark on that. He only asks to take care of the rest.

"Okay," she breathes out, her voice a little shaky from exertion. She won't make it the rest of the way on her own, and he's right here. She clings to his arm with her free hand to steady herself, waiting for however he intends to lead, as the blood trickles through the fingers clamped over her wound.

His eyes dart back and forth from her face to the wound. He stops her for a second, raising a hand up to halt her movements. Then, he reaches for of the sleeves of the green dragon pajamas he wears, grips it tight, and then rips. He takes the other half off with it, then brings both strips to her middle.

He settles just a bit behind her, so she can have something to lean on while he attempts on wrapping the makeshift bandage around her middle. He looks apologetic for each wince or noise that might be evinced.

Then, with one hand at her back to keep her held up, he makes to shift about. "WRAP YOUR ARMS UP ROUND MY NECK. Gonna need you to hang on tight, no matter how it hurts, aight?"

She tries not to cry out when he ties the cloth around her middle. They have to slow the bleeding somehow, even if it's only a temporary measure. Even if it's only enough to get her to the finish line. But there's pain with each wrapping and each tug. She grits her teeth, trying to muffle the noise behind a clenched jaw, but it only comes out as a pained whine.

Her legs feel shaky to stand on as she holds onto him for balance. Her head swims even more from the pain, until he's finally done tying off the makeshift bandage. He asks her to hang onto his neck--to hold on no matter how much it hurts. If it was anyone else, she might be at least a little skeptical. She might wonder if they could carry her safely or if they knew what they were doing.

But not Kurloz. She nods in understanding, and there's an implicit trust between them as she reaches up to do as he says--wrap her arms around his neck and to hang on tight. "Ready," she breathes out, bracing herself for the pain of movement.

Trust real implicit, asking another troll to wrap anything around his neck. But Terezi not like that and neither is he anymore. Her arms slip around him, and he just finds himself glad she’s here and alive, praying she stays that way. Once she says she’s ready, he reaches, scooping up her legs in his arms. He rises up, trying to be careful to disturb her wounds little as possible as he hitches her higher.

“SORRY,” He shoots back at her, meaning it for this and wrapping her and everything. “You hanging on alright?” He can give her that moment to breathe, if all she needs, but he’d rather not waste more of her precious slipping time.

He can see the finish line, right there in view, not far up at all. They can do it. They can make this. It will just mean a bit of a run, a bit of jostling and pain.

He lifts her up, and she nearly cringes at how much it hurts. Her arms tighten around his neck before she realizes that he might need room to breathe. Her grip loosens, but only just a little. It's still tight enough to keep her on his back.

Her face presses against the back of his shoulder, hiding the grimace that she's making. Teal blood is starting to soak through the makeshift bandage already, wetting the back of his costume where she's pressed against him.

"It's okay," she breathes, barely forming the words. "I'm okay. Just go." She just has to hold on a little longer, right? Just a little longer, and they'll both cross over the finish line. They'll be okay then.

He waits not a second more. Hanging on tight to her and her to him, he starts to run.

His eyes are sharp for any threats, anything or anyone what might take them out last minute. If there was anyone trying to kill them, he's not actually sure he could stop them, so he hopes his bared teeth are enough.

He can feel her cool blood on his back, seeping on through the cloths and his clothes. He can imagine the stain of teal on grey in his mind, and more so, the open wound of hers. Please, he prays, don't let this be like last time.

"ALMOST THERE TEREZI," He says. "We're going to win!"

Almost there, almost there. The words echo in her thoughts, repeating back the encouragement that he's trying to give. The jostling from the running hurts like hell, and it leaves her feeling even more light-headed.

Don't pass out, don't pass out. She can't die on him like this again. She can't stand to come back to the Capitol to find that sad expression on his face in the recaps. The way the he couldn't leave her side, even after she was long gone. The way that he would so carefully set her corpse down and brush the hair away from her ashen face. She can't let that happen again.

Her hands curl against his front, nails digging against clothes, trying not to prick skin. She wants him to know that she's still hanging on.

"Set me down at the finish line," she breathes, hoping that her voice is strong enough to hear. She doesn't know what sort of games the Capitol might try to play, but it's better safe than sorry. She wants to cross the finish line on her own two feet, just to be sure.

At the finish line. Right, of course, he can do that. He nods, though he realises it's impossible to see-- not just because she's blind, but because of all the jostling what's up and going on already.

There's a split second where all he wants to grip her hand, but he's still holding on to her legs. Not yet.

It's just that last short distance, and although she's in pain, he finds himself near to smiling with what hope he's got. They're there. They did it. He crouches down low, carefully releasing her legs so that she may stand on her own. They're just a step from the finish line.

"WE DID IT. You motherfucking did it," He says, one last time. He looks at her, so proud.

He goes to follow.

We did it, he says, and she exhales a shaky breath. She doesn't know how she's still conscious. Her wound hurts terribly, and she can barely stand on her own two feet. She has to hold onto him for support to keep herself upright--a weak, trembling grip on his forearm.

But he's right, they've done it. She's on the threshold of the finish line, and she's alive. They can't take that from her. She doesn't bother trying to smell the concerned faces on the other side of the nonexistent barrier. She steps forward with Kurloz, knowing she can relax now that it's over.

Right over the finish line, and he's thinking on the same thing. They can relax. It's all being good. They did it togetherlike and--

There's a warning beep from the watch on his wrist, flashing red zeros where he didn't go on to cull nobody, didn't hurt no one, and simply forgot the moment he saw her. He jerks back away from her on instinct, not no what my happen if she's near to him. The tube comes up around him, floor to ceiling, and he can see her on the otherside, not a bit of escape up around him at all.

There's barely any time as all to motherfucking thing. He looks up, breath catching as the clicks sound. His pupils dilate and his ears fold back, and the acid goo comes down.

"TEREZI TURN AW--"

The acid, green as sopor, falls down upon him and his words turn to screams. He can hear the sizzling in his ears, through his own howls. His skin disintegrates, then, muscle, then nerve. His claws shriek desperately on the tube's impenetrable glass, even as they melt away and dissolve. His vision goes white with pain, then mercifully dark, as his body comes apart and the bits where joints held on, melt and detach. The tube is splashed indigo and green.

It's just the colors what remain after long enough.

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pythianjudgment - 2014-12-04 23:54 (UTC) - Expand

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Mini Arena 3

Go-Karts

Marko Kart 8: Locked to Kenny and Punchy

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For Initiate

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Gore warning

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