Arena 12 - The Spaceport

[etcircenses]

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.

Comments

Nick | OTA

[fuckitall]

It doesn't seem real to be up here - in a place he has only seen in movies and videogames. It's almost unbelievable but there's no time to contemplate it. The only things that keep Nick focused on reality is knowing that his breathing is rapid and his heart is still beating. The sight of the bloodbath deters him from approaching the cornucopia. He needs a weapon and he knows it, but the suits make it nearly impossible for him to tell where his friends are. He doesn't want to take that chance. He has more blood on his hands than his mind can handle already.

Once he becomes acquainted with gravity again, he takes the chance to remove the spacesuit and takes a second to breathe. He looks out at one of the windows as his eyes widen with dread at the thought of Clementine and Luke possibly still out there.

'They have to be here. Alive.' Nick tells himself as he takes quiet steps through the corridors. If he made it in, so have they. The alternative is too difficult to imagine let alone accept.

don't mind if i do

[weaintashes]

The windows that look out onto the sprawling emptiness of space are an unnecessary distraction as far as Daryl's concerned at the moment. It's disorienting, thinking too hard about the fact he may very well be trapped up in space in a death match arena, if this isn't all some kind of fever dream. Previously he'd never been out of Georgia. Hell, he's never even had a vacation before.

He doesn't allow himself to get distracted by these thoughts as he finishes shedding and stowing the bulky outer space suit, then methodically commits to memory the layout of this particular alcove and hall in case he has to return to it. With that taken care of, he resumes stalking through the corridors as silently as he can, in search of supplies. Weapons.

There's nonfunctional, closed doors at the end of one corridor he investigates, effectively making it a dead end. Perhaps literally, he thinks, upon hearing footsteps approaching, presumably someone taking the same path he did. There's nowhere to hide, and in his eye-searing yellow space suit, it's not as though he can hope to remain unnoticed.

Mentally preparing for the worst, he moves to meet the stranger head on and stops a short distance away. His hands are held at his sides, palms up, to show he's unarmed, and he's pleased to note his unwelcome visitor's likewise unarmed. He doesn't disguise the fact he's sizing the guy up, attempting to ascertain how much of a threat he might be.

"Dead end this way," he offers in a low voice.

[fuckitall]

Luke was always there to remind Nick to keep focus. As annoying as it gets most of the time, he's pretending that his friend's here to tell him that. It's not the same, but it's something to keep him going. Even if he does find them, he needs a weapon to be even slightly useful. So far he sees nothing that will help him from being just a sitting duck.

He stills himself for a moment when he thinks he hears someone. Knowing better than to just call out a name, he slowly turns the corner, fully expecting something to come at him but is surprised when nothing does.

Nick holds his hands up to mirror the other man to show that he's also unarmed. He looks what's behind him before his gaze lands back to him again. "I guess so," he replies with his eyes narrowed, a sharp contrast to the fear stricken display he had moments ago. He keeps a tight posture, hoping to make himself less like an easy target. He doesn't know what to say - Luke, Pete and Carlos were usually the ones that did the talking when it came to strangers. But no one is here because they want to be, so he keeps that in mind.

"I'm just lookin' for my friends," he manages calmly. He wants to turn and leave, but can't bring himself to have his back to this guy. "I don't mean any harm unless you try something." ('Please don't fucking try anything.')

[weaintashes]

He briefly notes the posture (and accent — that's familiar), but his main focus remains on the guy's eyes. That's where the tell always is before somebody does something stupid like drawing a weapon or throwing a punch, and the body follows.

"Then those friends of yours are probably lookin' for you too," he replies evenly, "and I'd rather not give 'em a reason to come huntin' me."

Because as far as Daryl's aware, he's completely alone here and at a distinct disadvantage if other people really have alliances, like the stranger claims he does. Just his shit luck. Probably isn't a bad idea to try and make friendly... or at least not make any enemies who'll be gunning for his blood later. He relaxes his tense posture somewhat, attempting to convey that he means no harm either.

"What's your name?" He has to stop himself from adding kid to the end. The guy could be pushing thirty or more for all Daryl knows, but something about his manner strikes him as much younger than that.

[fuckitall]

"No, you wouldn't." Nick says though not without the slightest hint of doubt. he can't picture Luke or Clementine doing something like that. Neither does he want to. He doesn't break eye contact with the guy as much as he would rather look away and find a face that's familiar. In some ways, this guy does seem familiar but there's no way they could have met before.

"I'm Nick." Twenty six years old and his experience in the apocalypse haven't done his appearance any favors either. The Capitol could clean him up all they want, but there are some scars that just don't go away. He fidgets a little and tries to keep his arms relaxed to avoid the urge to bite at his nails. "What about you?"

[weaintashes]

So far it's all feeling real enough, but he hasn't yet ruled out the possibility of it being a bad trip, maybe related to enduring intermittent starvation and lack of medical care for too long. Those sorts of things could scramble your brain, right? To say nothing of being infected with the virus that causes corpses to get back up.

But if this is a fever dream, he's pretty sure he wouldn't be hallucinating a guy he's never met before. Usually Merle is his mind's go-to hallucination whenever it decides to take a detour into crazy town.

"Daryl." Carefully not commenting on the fidgeting. He's feeling about as nervous himself, but isn't going to let it show like that. "Whereabouts you from, Nick?"

It's beginning to feel more awkward than threatening, the way Nick isn't coming forward or backing up, but Daryl's not sure he really wants to try sidling by him yet. Too risky. He takes a cautious step closer, the way he would when trying to approach an easily spooked critter. Nice and easy.

[fuckitall]

Nick lets out a long breath, as if he had been holding it in this whole time - which is true to some extent. Sometimes he forgets to breathe in the midst of dealing with the situation at hand. If he had met this guy before, like he has met others on the training center rooftop or the bar or something, this would've been different. Now, it's no different from him encountering a survivor in the woods. Or a bridge. Dammit.

He shakes his head and comes to from his thoughts and notices the guy stepping closer. He stands his ground though, keeping his legs as still as he can. He's got a couple of inches on this guy but that's all he's got going for him. He considers the guy's question. He's not just asking what district he's from is he? Not that districts ever mattered to him.

"Where dead things eat you," he answers impatiently, hoping for it to just get brushed off as sarcasm because what does it even matter now? He thinks about what's left of home for a moment and what's left of his idea of a family as his eyes soften with honesty. "Fuck. Look, I don't got time for this. I need to find my friends make sure they're okay."

They are okay. They gotta be.

He keeps his gaze on Daryl for a while, as if pleading to let him go as he finally takes a step back to go back down the hallway.

[weaintashes]

"That's the whole damn world," Daryl points out, keeping his irritation from his voice. This isn't the time to instigate a fight. He'd been hoping for a state name, even a vague geographical region, since it's obvious Nick's from the South and quite possibly Georgia, and it'd be common ground for them both. Something they share. Establishing that sort of thing can sometimes make the difference between living and dying; it wasn't just an idle query.

Luck is evidently on Daryl's side today, as Nick finally stops blocking the exit.

"Go on then," he says reasonably, and doesn't waste any time in slipping past the guy in case he changes his mind. "And good luck."

You're gonna need it, you jittery shit.

It quickly becomes apparent Daryl chose the wrong way when he's greeted by the rapid pattering of footsteps from somewhere close, maybe a couple corridors away, headed in his direction. Could be children judging by the lightness of the steps, but he's not going to count on it. He ducks into the lone doorway in the corridor, and reaches to shut the door, but hesitates.

You always was a bleedin' heart, little brother.

"Shut up," he mutters to himself under his breath.

Gonna git yer fool ass killed.

He really shouldn't give a damn about what happens to that guy outside. He doesn't need his dead brother's voice in his head acting like his Jiminy Cricket to know this. But fucking hell—

Before he can debate it further, he simply leans out the doorway and gives a sharp whistle hoping to catch Nick's attention. Once he has it, he motions for him to come inside the room. Or he can take his chances with the roaming herd of aliens approaching. The choice is his.

[fuckitall]

They nearly bump shoulders when Daryl passes him, Nick uttering a "whatever" out of pure habit instead of returning the courtesy. If it had been at a different time maybe Nick would humor him and answer his questions more directly. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about where the guy's from - and his nonchalant reaction to Nick mentioning lurkers makes him wonder if he's from the same "world" so to speak. Just like meeting Beth.

His moment to relax is short-lived when he sees Daryl suddenly duck into the corridor. Somethin' ain't right. It's quiet enough right now that even Nick can hear the footsteps - though a little too late as they already appear in his field of vision. Small, but more than strange enough to set off the fight-or-flight instinct in him.

"Oh, what the fuck."

The whistle from Daryl helps his brain make the decision for his body to just go for it as he makes a mad dash into the room. He catches a glimpse of what looked like something out of a sci-fi movie (well, they're practically in one now) before making it in. "Jesus..."

[weaintashes]

The door's slammed shut the moment Nick's clear of it and Daryl braces his back against it, staying silent while he listens for the creepy little aliens. They're obviously right outside the door, but from what he can tell they're not doing a whole lot other than milling about in agitation. Speaking with each other occasionally, but he doesn't understand the language.

Once he's confident they won't be breaking down the door anytime soon, he slides down it into a sitting position, knees drawn up. And then he's just staring at Nick for a long moment, contemplating what to do with him.

"Might be here a while," he eventually says. "Unless you wanna go make some new friends."

In other words, stop hovering and take a seat.

[fuckitall]

Nick braces his back against the door also, letting his body slide down to sit by Daryl.
"Fuck that," he replies as he shakes his head. They're nothing like he's ever seen, but they weren't lurkers. The sound of hungry, dead things pounding on the walls around him is nothing new. He has since grown used to that.

Well, now there's time for him to answer Daryl's question.

"I was in North Carolina before -"

'Everything went wrong. Or never was meant go right at all.' He keeps himself from saying that though the pain is a little harder to mask.

"... endin' up here." He looks at Daryl while ignoring the goosebumps forming along his back as he feels the aliens pattering about right outside. "You from Georgia?"

[weaintashes]

Daryl tips his head back against the door, blows out an unsettled breath. Yeah, fuck that. Fuck all of that. All that's missing from this low-budget alien flick is the anal probing.

North Carolina. He hadn't been far off, then.

"Yeah," he answers, suppressing a flinch when something clangs against the door. "Up north originally." In the mountains. Makes him about as much of a hick as it's possible to be in Georgia, but he's beyond caring about a stranger's opinion of him at this point. "Lot'a places since then."

He's only mostly sure he'll be made to regret sticking his neck out for this guy, since that's how it always goes these days. Cut someone a little slack and it's the noose they'll hang you and yours with. But for the time being there's nothing to be done about it, so they might as well be civil, and anyway Nick seems like an all right guy so far. Uncertainty lingers in Daryl's eyes as he glances at Nick before getting to his feet.

The doors down here are reinforced in a way that the doors closer to the entranceway hadn't been, which eases his anxiety somewhat about their current situation.

His situation, he corrects himself. And he needs to find Beth.

He gets to work inspecting the room with a methodical precision born of leading countless supply runs, where distinguishing the useful from the useless in the shortest amount of time is an art. It's also made simpler here by virtue of the fact there's just not a whole lot of anything available to them — exam tables, nonfunctional equipment, scattered broken vials too small to be of practical use. Packets of... something. Miscellaneous rubbish. There's also what appears to be another doorway a bit farther in.

"So what've you been doin' since the world went to hell?" he asks while he investigates one of the packets, shaking its contents out onto the counter before him.

[fuckitall]

This guy seems to be taking the whole space station and aliens crap pretty well. Nick wonders if he's been in an arena before (that alone leads to other questions, like if he had killed anyone here) but something about him seems different that Nick can't place. Whatever it is, the fact that he didn't let Nick to die to those things out there gives him a little credit, but he can't trust him entirely yet, if at all.

He watches Daryl search the room and feels a sense of familiarity as he does. It had been the way Nick and the others have been living before ending up here. To some extent it hasn't changed, so at the very least Nick's accustomed with going with no or less food. He finally sits up to go over to look under the nearby tables in hopes of finding something useful.

Small talk while scavenging isn't anything new to him either, but he didn't expect to hear that question and what it could mean.

"What the hell does it look like?" Nothing too different given what they're doing at the moment. They're just in fucking outer space. "Tryin' not to die for one, but these - " assholes, he wants to say, but keeps in mind that they're being watched, "...guys in charge are goin' to make sure all but one of us will."

It's a prospect he does not look forward to think about. It seems the only best way for him to go about it is to make sure his friends are safe and that he dies before he sees anything worse happening. He can't just carry on without thinking about it like Luke probably can, but he keeps these thoughts to himself, frowning before moving onto rummaging through one of the cabinets. No luck, like always.

"Some things never change."

[sizeofyourbaggage]

There wasn't anything like an easy start into this arena, apparently, not when the first thing that Sam ran into was Steve beaten half to death. Steve's been stabilized, and Natasha'd found them pretty quickly, but they still need supplies and a place to hole up - not to mention there's other people Sam's looking for - so he's out scouting.

He's not empty handed, but since he didn't want to carry his Cornucopia items everywhere and the skintight-ness of his purple space suit doesn't exactly allow for pockets, he's fashioned a belt out of one of the cords he'd found to hold his flashlight, syringes, and makeshift knife. He doesn't want to use any of them, but he's not going out unarmed after he'd made the run for the cases.

Sam's moving quietly, too, but footsteps seem to echo in these hallways, and if he can hear some coming towards him, he's pretty sure the other person can hear his as well. He tenses a little, going on his guard, though he doesn't grab for anything to arm himself.

When the guy comes into view, Sam stops. He's... pretty sure he recognizes him. "Hey," he says cautiously. "You're from my district, right?"

[fuckitall]

Walking quietly while feeling death happening around him isn't anything new to Nick. It shouldn't be, but the time it's taking for him to explore and somehow still not able to find anything useful makes him want to run back to the cornucopia and see if there's anything left over for him there. He's sure that it's an attractive option for many so decides against it again. Dammit, he just doesn't know what to do.

Nick whips his head towards the direction where he just heard footsteps that aren't his. When his eyes set on Sam, he first notices the supplies he has on them. He takes that as a sign of him making out of the cornucopia - and possibly killing others over it. Looking at him in the eyes again, they may have passed by one another a couple of times though Nick never thought to introduce himself.

"District 5, yeah." Not that it really matters much to him. Slapping them in the same colors and numbers doesn't win any loyalty points from Nick. He eyes the supplies again as if it would provide him answers but it leads him to ask the question instead.

"Did you kill someone over that stuff?" His tone is suspicious, clearly with more bark than bite.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Sam puts his hands up, palms held out, and holds them there. He's taking the suspicion in this guy's voice to be a good thing - if he's wary of someone who'd kill at the Cornucopia, maybe he's not one of the people who's planning on hunting Tributes down. Or he's pissed that Sam got something and he didn't, but since Sam doesn't want to hurt him, he's hoping for the first.

"No, I'm just pretty used to defying gravity. Got in and out quick enough that no one noticed." The first part is almost a joke, despite the fact that it's not really funny to anyone who doesn't know about Sam's wings.

"Honestly, I was hoping for a med kit. That's my speciality."

[fuckitall]

Nick doesn't bother holding his hands out, it being rather obvious to them both that he has nothing on him. He'd like to think that he doesn't regret going for the Cornucopia either but being without supplies still makes the guilt eat at him a little. There's nothing he can do about that now.

Looking at the guy, it's not too surprising to see that the guy made it out in one piece. He looks like someone who can hold his own in a fight. So can Nick, but...just not against somebody like him.

"You don't look like you need medical attention." He'd be the buffest doctor nick has ever seen. He figured most folks would go for the weapons like he probably would if he ran for it.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

"No, I don't, yet. But I'm not stupid enough to think that's not going to change, for me or my friends. And I was pararescue."

He'd considered just saying that he was an EMT, which is technically true, but decided against it. Hedging around the fact that he's a soldier is just stupid, even if it doesn't make the guy any less wary of him. For the moment, he's just going to keep on holding his hands up.

"And I'm not looking to go after anyone who isn't going after me."

[fuckitall]

The fact that he mentions having friends puts Nick at a slight ease. Assuming he's telling the truth, it's good to know that he's just not in it for his own survival (not that Nick can blame anyone for wanting that). "And I ain't an idiot to think I can take you on." There, he admits it, albeit rather flippantly though not towards Sam exactly. He folds his arms as he casts his gaze downwards, "I'm just tryin' to look for my frie - "

He stops when he hears movement from the other direction, brows arched before his eyes go wide when he hears a scream that he would never want to hear.

"Luke?" Another scream. This time for Nick's name. "Shit!" Panic takes over and he doesn't even acknowledge Sam as he bolts down the hall to find the source of the noise. He doesn't want to find Luke dead. That's something that should never happen and he won't let it happen.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Honestly, Sam should probably just stay put. He doesn't know this guy - the only reason he even knows his name is because they're in the same district. Sam has no idea if Nick has some kind of unknown superpower, if his comment about not being able to take Sam on was just to get his guard down, if the cut-off bit about looking for his friends was just because Sam mentioned friends, first.

But that panic had looked genuine, and if someone isn't already in trouble, then Nick is probably going to get himself into some, bolting off like that. And Sam has a hard time abandoning people in trouble.

So he curses, and takes off after Nick, jogging up next to him and keeping an eye out for what might be out there.

"Slow it down, man, you think charging off with no weapons and no idea what you're getting into is going to help anything?"

Not that he thinks the guy'll listen to him, but he has to try.

Hope this is ok!

[fuckitall]

Sam's voice is but a faded one to Nick when screams of his best friend is all he can focus on. The only reason he'd ever stop is if he could convince himself to care less, but that's not an option nor will it ever be. Luke's all he has left of his childhood. He can't imagine himself being the last one standing. He doesn't want to.

He continues to run down the hall, frantically darting his eyes to find some sign of Luke all while thinking that none of this should even be happening at all. He finally stops when he hears pounding from the other side of a door. Before he can even react, a claw shoots out as soon as the door slides open and grabs him by the waist.

His first instinct is to pull the claw apart but the thing grips harder on him as he chokes out a cry. In midst of his panic, he only just realizes that his legs are no longer touching the floor.

Eyes forward, Nick.

He remembers Luke telling him that the moment they walked their way through that horde of lurkers. He does so, as if out of reflex, wondering how something like what seems to be an old memory sound so present. His gaze falls onto the machine as his eyes go wide, reality kicking back in when he realizes where the source is from.

There's not even a moment allowed for him to tell himself what a fucking idiot he is when his body is suddenly swung against the wall behind him.

it's great!

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Definitely should have stayed put.

The second the doors open, he knows they're in trouble, but he's just far enough behind Nick that he can't do anything like trying to shove him out of the way before the giant robot claw grabs him.

"Holy shit," Sam curses under his breath as he keeps moving forward, sparing only a few thoughts for whether or not there's more of those where that one came from. If they move as fast as that one, he'll have maybe a second to dodge, which means he's going to have to keep his eyes open and not spend all his attention on trying to get Nick free.

Nick's obviously struggling with the claw itself, and going over there to try to help him pry them open probably isn't going to help much, so Sam turns his attention to the weaker joints of the arm. He flips his flashlight around, lining it along his forearm and over his elbow to give himself better support - and to pack a bigger punch - as he promptly begins bashing in the metal on the arm, ripping out any wires or cables he can get to with his other hand.

"I don't know what the crap that was, but if this thing opens, better run like hell."

[fuckitall]

The impact on the wall nearly knocks the wind out of him. The flicker from the flashlight helps him regain focus again though still disoriented. He's surprised to see Sam still here. The robot clearly was after Nick so the guy could've just made a run for it but he didn't. This isn't a moment to ask why he's still here but Nick manages to choke out a "yeah, no shit" in response as he feels its grip on him begin to loosen.

D A - MM I T N I - CK! The thing blurts out with the voice of his friend, marred with static likely from the wires being torn out. Nick doesn't know which is worse: the fact that he was dumb enough to be fooled by this thing or letting the frustration and disappointment its mimicking from Luke get to him.

It's a bit of both. And it's pissing him off.

"Shut the fuck up!" It hurts to say that, but it was worth it. The claw finally gives as it drops him to the floor. He wonders if he actually has broken a rib or two as he looks up to find another claw, eyes widening when he notices that it resembles more like a scissor, appearing behind Sam.

"Behind you!"

[sizeofyourbaggage]

If nothing else, there's something about bashing open the robotic claw and ripping through its wires that's pretty damn satisfying. Fucking space arena. When it finally opens, he has about two seconds of relief before Nick's shouting at him.

Sam doesn't bother looking behind him to check what Nick's warning him for. He just ducks, whirling around and to the side, only checking it out in the process of getting the hell out of the way, and just missing getting stabbed in the back with robot scissors - though it does graze his shoulder.

"Shit," he curses again. Yeah, he's pretty sure the same strategy won't work on this one, considering if it manages to pin one of them, they'll probably be dead before the other one can hack the claw open.

He reaches down, offering Nick a hand to help pull him up. Nick has to be injured from getting pinned to the wall, and his arm stings like hell, but they've still got to get the hell out of here.

"Come on, man, let's book it."

[fuckitall]

From his experience, Nick always had to try to go out of his way to prove that he can pull his own weight. A lot of those efforts have backfired in some fucked up way or form that resulted in him being seen as unreliable. He basically ended up becoming someone that couldn't be trusted. It hurt to know that and it still does - to the point where it's easy for Nick to start believing that himself. The minor cut on Sam's shoulder, though small, still makes Nick feel guilty.

In the second it takes for him to accept his hand, he wonder again why Sam stayed to help. Even if he doesn't plan to kill anyone in this arena, it's not as if Nick has proved himself to be a useful ally anyway. The sudden movement from the now mangled robot causes survival instincts to override all thoughts though, and he pulls himself up with Sam's support. He definitely feels bruises forming as he grits his teeth to ignore the pain in his ribs. He can run. He can prove that he's okay from all this. He has to. He has to.

"This is fuckin' bullshit." He says under his breath, referring to practically everything happening in his life up to now and without a doubt, from here on out.