thearena | Arena 12 - The Spaceport

Arena 12 - The Spaceport

As usual the Tributes are woken up early for the start of the arena, leaving the Tribute Centre before dawn. A few hours ride in a hovercraft delivers them to their destination where their excited prep teams will outfit them in skintight suits that are colour coordinated by District (D1 is White, D2 is Red, D3 is Orange, D4 is Aqua, D5 is Purple, D6 is Pink, D7 is Light Green, D8 is Blue, D9 is Yellow, D10 is Dark Green, D11 is Lavender, and D12 is Black) over which they will be put into what is instantly identifiable as a spacesuit, complete with oxygen tank and helmet before being loaded into the tubes.

They rise up into what appears to be outer space and immediately upon emerging from the tubes Tributes will find themselves floating upwards with a length of rope the only thing holding them to their podiums. The countdown crackles out from speakers built into each Tributes helmet.

20

19

18…

The Cornucopia sits in the middle of a dusty crater with buildings surrounding it, made up of a number of chained down cases and cubes in limited numbers. Cubes which sharp-eyed Tributes will note look like they fit into the slots beside the doors that lead into the spaceport.

8

7

6…

The mirrored visors of the uniformly white spacesuits make it impossible to tell friend from foe. Tributes fighting for goods will have to risk harming their friends but the alternative, floating off into space or suffocating when their oxygen runs out, leaves them little choice.

3

2

1…

The gong rings out and the countdown’s voice announces, “the Arena is now open” before the line goes dead. The Games have begun.

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W h y.

It's times like these that Brock really finds himself wishing that he weren't such a good person. Being honest as sunshine has its drawbacks. Case in point: after spending a split second gawking, Brock swears under his breath and steps on the button too, jumping onto the panel in hopes that it'll catapult him toward the kid faster so he can... well, he didn't think that part through.

Which is kind of unfortunate, because Brock catches up with him mid-air pretty quickly. Without thinking because there is no time to think, he grabs him and just kinda... throws him... somewhere. Hopefully not in the sludge. Brock himself hits the wall and slides down onto a platform on the other end of the room.

"That's not a bad idea, if you can't fight," Nitou mused, "but there are a lotta people here who won't see it that way. Defeats the whole purpose of a deathmatch arena, y'know?" He considered this. "You even know how to throw a punch if you've gotta defend yourself?"

"What kind of trouble?" Because if he's got Chimera, then Haruto's got Dragon, and something that could do this much damage to Haruto with powers is something that Nitou wants to be aware of. "Could I eat this trouble?"

Okay, so he's got other concerns, too.

"What wait no -- !" It wasn't particularly hard to throw Kaito; he was pretty light and all. But then of course he practically landed facefirst in a gel-covered section of the floor and for some reason bounced off. Wow, science. It improved lives. It brought joy to the common man.

It left Kaito screaming in admittedly kind of comic terror as he tried to grab onto the edge of one of the metal platforms. By some miracle, he snagged some sort of lighted... pole? Whatever. It stopped his fall.

What was that at the very bottom of the room? Quicksand? Acid? Whatever it was, it didn't look like good news. His feet scrabbled at the smooth metal drop-off as he tried to pull himself up; wow, did they even HAVE a concept of workplace safety? Were they even trying? Maybe they should just take a big old jar of superballs and pour them all over the floor, because it seemed like that would match with the theme they were going for here

Kaito considered this question, and threw an air punch. It was.

Well, it was. What you'd expect from a high schooler with no martial arts training? At least he didn't flinch while he was doing it, but even Kaito seemed to recognize that it was kind of lame, because he dropped his arm quickly to his side.

"Personally, I think they picked the wrong contestant for a space deathmatch..."

The platform Brock found himself on was, thankfully, not covered in gel or quicksand/acid or anything else particularly stupid. It was just there, apparently just waiting for some guy to fall on it. Shaking his head to clear it from what might be a mild concussion from banging into the wall, Brock slowly gets up to his feet and looks around.

Okay, platform. He's on a platform.

But the platform is in the middle of quicksand/acid. Wonderful.

"Hey, do you..." he started to say, then realized that he should probably make sure he didn't throw the kid into, like, a furnace or a put full of snakes or something. Anything could be possible in this place. But no, he's just over there, precariously hanging over the mystery sludge. No big deal.

"You got it! Just climb up a little more and you'll be okay."

Marco puts his money on a guy who opts out of killing him on sight not hating his personality so much to kill him later, and so he walks in. Especially since Muscles McGee is even giving him unsolicited advice.

It occurs to Marco that while he's not the trusting sort, he wouldn't really mind having the allegiance of a guy who can toss a computer like he's skipping rocks at the lake.

"So. Anyone ever told you you sound like that guy from Seinfeld?"

The alien doesn't move. It oozes a little more, but it doesn't move.

"He's dead, Jim." Marco does his best McCoy voice and leans back from watching the corpse kind of leak a little more. "We should probably figure out where it came from for when its mom comes out for vengeance on us."

He's kidding, but the sad thing is that that is totally a possibility.

Fortunately, Kaito was actually pretty good at climbing things, even if this jumpsuit they'd given him really wasn't what he'd prefer to be wearing while he did it. He managed to get one foot up on the ledge and pulled himself up while looking only marginally stupid. That was all he could really hope for at this point. That done, he just sort of bowed over in relief once his feet were on solid ground again, but...

But what happened to Brock? What happened to -- oh. How the fuck was he going to get Brock back to this side of the sludge? It looked a bit far even for a giant muscly dude to jump, so. Hmm. Hmm. If he had a goddamn tightrope or something, this would have been so much easier.

Okay, time to actually think about this. Kaito looked down at the floor, where some blue track lighting ran from the switches to... places? The one he'd been holding on to ran up the wall to a giant canister-looking thing mounted on the ceiling? There was what looked like a giant metal block inside, so... you know, maybe it was for knocking anyone on the platform below into the sludge should they fail to fall all by themselves. That seemed logical.

"I don't know what these switches do," he admitted. "This one looks like it might drop a block on you. Uh... any ideas?"

"Well," said Kaito, looking a little green around the gills. "You wanted to, uh. Eat it, right?"

He didn't want to go down there, man. He really didn't. Nor, in fact, did he want to meet its mom. "Does that happen? This is messed up."

Nitou winces at that punch. It is not a wince of anything resembling fear. It is the wince of someone who's wondering how that other guy even managed to survive childhood and getting into fights with other boys.

"Look, look, real quick, you do it like this." And Nitou shows him a much better sort of punch, the kind used by a guy who does a lot of brawling. "Wrong contestant or not, you gotta at least try not to die right away if you get cornered!"

Barely. It doesn't take much for Nick to nearly fall over and the pained grunts he lets out shows that he is almost anything but fine.

"Dammit." He slowly pulls himself up again to a stumble. It hurt to breathe so one of his ribs is cracked maybe? Doesn't matter, his legs still work. If he can keep running with a bullet would on his shoulder, he can still move. It's just the matter of where.

"You see a place we can go?" Anywhere but here.

Look. Look. Kaito didn't get into fights with other boys, okay? He only got into fights with childhood friends, and 100% of those were girls.

Kaito imitated Nitou, but clearly a career as a kung fu wizard was just not in the cards here. Maybe once he got back to the Training Center, he'd shape up? He sighed. "What's a wizard need to throw a punch for, anyway? Can't you just... make your enemies disappear?"

Any deaths caused while defending his people get included in the nebulous definition of self defense, so far as Daryl's concerned. It isn't murder. These distinctions are important to maintain, no matter how fine they may have to become.

Lacking anything else to dry his hands with, he wipes them off on his dirty spacesuit, somewhat defeating the purpose of washing them in the first place. The clink of the beakers had caught his attention. He moves to where Nick's standing, cautiously reaching around him to retrieve one and then steps away. Now these could be useful. He runs his fingers along its surface to inspect it for any cracks, his expression becoming pensive in a way that makes it clear he's listening to Nick, though he doesn't look at him.

The information about Beth had been volunteered partly to encourage Nick to share a bit more in return. At this point he's willing to entertain the possibility that Nick's a decent person. He's been wrong about this before, but not often enough to start doubting his gut instincts about people now.

And so he simply nods and says, "Shit happens."

There's clearly a story behind the answer, but he isn't anyone's confessor or judge.

"We're both lookin' for our people." And he's looking at Nick expectantly now as he shifts his weight to one foot, posture straightening. Sort of sizing him up again. But this time, not as a potential opponent. "If you wanna tell me more, I could help keep an eye out for 'em," he offers. "And you could help me with mine."

He'd had no reason to help Nick out with that pack of aliens, but he'd done so anyway, and in doing so had effectively laid his cards out on the table already. If he wanted to kill someone or let them die through inaction, that would've been the prime opportunity. He's far more interested in having an extra set of eyes looking for Beth.

Gary's face goes suddenly blank. He is surprised, definitely--not because this is such a peculiar experience for him, but because it's so familiar. He knows that feeling; he associates it with his brother, that odd tingling in his temples when he would root around and settle in his mind, tell secrets and dirty jokes while they pretended to sleep. But the only time Gary's ever engaged in telepathic communications, the one doing the communicating wasn't conscious. So obviously it can't be Nill.

He spins a quick circle, surveying the area for evidence and finding none. "Did you--?" Gary gestures in the vague vicinity of his head. Did she feel that? Hear that? But why would someone else answer the question he asked her? A second later it clicks, and Gary's face splits back into a wide, excited grin. "--That was you, wasn't it?"

"Damn right it does." Nick replies without hesitation, even if he isn't always in the right state of mind to deal with said shit. If anything, he's grateful that Daryl doesn't press on about it because he just doesn't know how much he can keep it together. It's taking a lot for him to not freak out about not knowing where Luke and Clementine are or if they're in danger at this second and he's not there to help. Whether he'd actually be able to help or make shit worse is another level of worry that he can't afford to think about.

It can't hurt to describe Clem and Luke to him. Hell, if he underestimates Clem especially he'd be in for a surprise. And he can gauge if Daryl's description of the girl he's looking for is bullshit or not.

"One of 'em's a little girl. About eleven years old, I think. She always keeps her hair short. Her name's Clementine." And she has proven many times over that she's smart and capable, more so than others including himself. And so is Luke, he's definitely better than Nick at nearly god damn everything.

"And Luke's about your height. Brown hair and eyes with a stronger accent mine...and a honker the size of an ostrich egg." He chuckles quietly at that last bit in spite of himself, suddenly remembering all the little moments with their group of friends poking fun at Luke's nose and classic Luke just takes it like a champ by laughing along with them. Nick, knowing himself, would probably just get pissed off. Classic Nick.

He needs to find Luke. Him and Clem both. They gotta be alive.

Edited 2015-01-01 18:34 (UTC)

Darcy's first reaction to finding out that, holy shit, they're in space was to be glad that Jane wasn't there since man, her and Thor didn't need to protect their overly inquisitive astrophysicist while she tries to observe all the things. Her second reaction was to try for the Cornucopia which probably provided the people of Panem some humor at least, because holy shit she sucks at this whole lack of gravity thing.

Once she finally manages to get out of the starting area and into the spaceport proper, she removes the helmet and outermost layer of the suit, blissfully ignoring the much bigger one laying in a heap. Okay, it's not that she doesn't notice it, but she doesn't pay it much mind since, really, it's probably just some weird piece of set dressing put there to fuck with the Tributes.

She's bubbling with confidence as she makes her way down the hallway and tries to pull together something resembling a plan. Which right now is pretty much: find Thor, chill with Thor, try to survive for a while. As she meanders, she notices something ahead. Something scaley and way bigger than her and the only thing that she can conjure up to say is "Holy shit, is that a giant space lizard?"

The same lack of information they gave him when he first arrived and was dropped straight into the arena, then. A battle to the death with only one winner with no hint that the death would only be temporary. Bucky remembers his first experience like some nightmarish haze of starvation and pain but now he's far better prepared for what the Games are.

He glances down the corridor, seemingly unconcerned to take his eyes off Barton for those few seconds (but not really). The others, that had found each other so far, had congregated in one of the labs. Bucky had met up with the Widow first, then found where the others had begun to gather. He'd made the decision to go out to explore, scavenge and find their missing allies himself as a matter of course.

Bucky turns his gaze back to Clint, speaking bluntly. "If you're Steve's ally then I won't kill you."

'Duct tape's a hot commodity, I doubt we'll find any, but I'll play along for now if it makes you feel better.' That was about as close to 'coming quietly' with the idea of resting Jet could get.

The comment about Sam earned a smirk and an amused look, but he kept quiet about it. If she said so, he certainly wouldn't know. "Anyone I'd list's already been mentioned, so I think that's it." Anyone else, while he wasn't out for their blood or anything, Jet wasn't adverse to killing either. If it came down to him or one of his allies and those others, he'd kill without a second thought.

"We'll find somewhere, but we should find it soon. No point wandering half the arena to find somewhere safe. Although, if we need to, I can get us out of here fast." His flight systems weren't too jacked, at least, the actual flying part wasn't. If something less than pleasant showed up, he could take both of them with him easily.

"Blood isn't the worst thing." He swallows a little harder than he'd like. After all, most every time Tony's gone out in his armor to take on some pretty major badness he's come back with almost as much blood on him as there is in him. A fact that's probably helping him panic less about his current situation.

He shakes his head at Dave, when the kid claims Tony hasn't read the application. It's not too surprising, everyone assumes Tony doesn't read paper work because he's too busy playing around of building.

"You can't have an apprentice level of knight, Knight means you've completed the apprenticeship. And I doubt you had to be a squire before becoming that knight you were back home, so it probably would have been better if you just said you majored in Knighthood."

Because yes, Tony did read things that were given to him, and he generally remembered them. The problem with Tony is that he's usually too apathetic about most subjects to let on that he's read them.

"Nah, my magic doesn't work like that." Nitou waves the thought away and grins. "It's more for different attacks, that sort of thing. Besides--it's more fun to go in there and mix it up!"

Of course she didn't mean to, it's so amazingly easy to just accidentally taser someone like that. Who is he to get mad about it, when it was clearly something she hadn't meant to do? Oh bullshit, he doesn't believe for a second that it wasn't premeditated. She'd probably been itching to do it for the last several minutes, she knew damn well what she was doing, she-

Whoa.

Did she just- yeah, she sure did. If he were in a different kind of mood, it would be really damn impressed. As it is, he's only mildly so. He'd had to weasel out a curse from her before, now she's doing it of her own volition, it's kind of startling in a good way. But more importantly, she's actually angry at him for trying to leave to go get her medical supplies. Granted, she didn't know he was going to do that, but it still makes him feel a little salty.

"Hrrrgh," he growls, exasperated and angry all at once. He shifts his head as best he can so his voice isn't muffled, thankfully his muscles are slowly starting to go back to normal. Slowly. Too damn slowly. "Make. up. your. mind." He says slowly, his voice shaking a little from all these damn things he's feeling. "You want me to stay or you want me to go, cuz you're givin' me so many fuckin' mixed signals these days. Makes it hard to wrap my head around how I feel my own damn self- and for your info, I was goin' to get shit to treat you, so cut the pissy princess victim act."

"So it's more like an RPG or something?" Kaito just had no idea. His experience of magic was getting levitated around and bleeding from the mouth while someone tried to make him eat their Valentine's chocolate. The struggle was real.

"If I could do real magic, I think I'd just do basically the same thing I do now."

Anna sits back, landing a bit ungracefully on her bottom in an attempt not to tear her wound open even wider, letting out a choked sound in response to the pain. "I--" What he's saying rings painfully close to home, because she realizes that making up her mind is exactly what she can't seem to do lately.

Her mouth opens, then closes, while she seems to consider what exactly to say. And all she can come up with at first is, "Is your butt okay?"

Which sounds really dumb, so she quickly follows up with, "I'm so sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me lately." She squeezes her eyes shut, willing all of this external atmosphere away--wishing it was just the two of them, so they could just hash all of this out.

"I just--I'm so confused about, well, everything, but you especially. I just want to follow my heart, but it's hard when--well, when I can never tell what you're thinking."

Is she serious? It's hard to be angry when she follows up with stupid shit like asking if his butt's okay. Why is she so damn frustratingly endearing, especially at the worst possible times? And then she goes to apologizing and it's so damn sincere and earnest that he has even more of a hard time staying angry with her and it kind of just melts into a hollow numbness as the ability to move begins returning to him at a bit of a quicker rate, enough that he can shift into a sitting position.

His ass feels a bit numb, it better stop that soon.

And then she tosses the blame into his court, and he can't even feel annoyed by that either, because honestly? It's true. He's hard to read sometimes. His jaw sets firmly and his mouth almost opens to speak, to say- say what?

That his desire to protect her from the dangers of Panem has evolved into something much deeper than that? No. No, not here- not now. Maybe not ever, because that would probably just make everything even more complicated and he doesn't want to face that. His life isn't about deeper feelings, it's about keeping people at arm's length. The only kind of relationship he gets involved in is something casual like Jolie, and even then he's come close to fucking that up by letting things go deeper. That's why keeping people away is so much better in the long run. Especially here.

"You wanna know what I'm thinking?" he asks, avoiding looking at her. "I think you need something better to treat that cut with, so unless you want to bleed out, I should go find something for you."

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Arena 12 - The Spaceport

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