Mini Arena 3

[etcircenses]

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.]

Comments

[justoutrunyou]

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.

[culturalappropriation]

There's nothing he can do. The weight of that sinks deep in Punchy's gut like a stone. All his hopes and ideals are wrapped around it, and they, too, drown.

He doesn't even notice the blood dribbling into his eyelashes. He just crouches down next to her (she's so small) and takes her hand. It already looks grey against his pink palm. He feels the heat leaving it, the little twitches in her fingers as her body struggles to live even as she accepts her fate.

"It's okay, kiddo. It's breezy." He squeezes her hand. "See you on the flip-side."

He's watched too many people die. He never gets desensitized. Maybe that's his curse. He watches this little kid he doesn't even know die and it rips him open right down the center, like it has every time.

[korosu]

Several feet away, another little kid crawls from the wreckage that surrounds him, his vision choked by smoke. With his costume in tatters all over him, he's basically a pile of bloody rags at this point, interspersed with patches of burnt and charred skin. He might even be mortally wounded, although he doesn't feel any of it. There's little else to guide him forward but his own delirium, a desperation that lingers even as grasping onto his surroundings proves to be impossible.

A shard from the mess is clutched tightly in one hand, shrapnel that's still hot and smoking a little. Kenny can barely walk, but he limps his way toward the finish without even really registering who else might be there, waiting. Her body is prone on the ground now, the girl he'd been gunning after. All it takes is one slash, one swift blow, and it will be over. For her, for him, for everyone here.

He collapses to his knees when he's nearly there, gasping for breath a little, but proceeds to inch forward in a half-crawl with the makeshift weapon brandished and ready.