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

[molotov]

Her breathing is still ragged, still an effort that hurts every time her torso shifts with the inhale, and she lies still as he dresses the wound. The kiss brings just a little bit of a smile to the corners of her mouth, and she snorts.

"I'll thank you after the Arena," she mumbles, feeling the cold floor underneath her, her muscles slowly unwinding enough to let her focus on anything besides her damaged body, the dwindling fire of pain receding from every nerve. "You'll like that better anyway."

[pimpcanes]

"Well. Undoubtedly. Especially when you're thanking me after I win." He does a tidy job of patching her together, but there's no way for it not to be an unpleasant experience. His nose is wrinkled throughout from the smell of her baked flesh.

"There. That's the best I can do for you." He sits back, concern knitting a wrinkle into his forehead. "Can you stand?"

[molotov]

"I can still win." It's a grumble as she keeps holding him, relaxing on the floor. It feels so nice and cool, comparatively. "I only have to kill you, don't I?"

There's a moment where Molotov tries to push up on her elbows, only to wince and groan and scrunch her face up with pain. "Help me up."

[pimpcanes]

So he does. He wraps an arm under hers and over her back and lifts so she can get to her feet.

"That's certainly the plan. Although superpowers being in the fray is a spanner in the works."

Look, he killed Thor last time. He's pretty sure having an angry god with a grudge against you is all the worse when that god has powers.

[molotov]

She makes a soft pained noise as he lifts her, and leans heavily on him, very clearly miserable.

"Well, we can let most of them sort each other out?" she suggests, half-heartedly, more focussed on how terrible she currently feels. "If they use their powers to maul each other, we can just lay low. We might need to, until I can move better."

[pimpcanes]

"That may be the winning strategy this time. Not terribly interesting for the viewers, and far from noble, but that's not very high on my list of priorities."

At least they've agreed to a plan. It's something. He helps her through the hall, face taut with vigilance.

[molotov]

Her fingers are white from clutching at him, though she can luckily still walk well enough. It's more the pain hobbling her than anything else, a distinct throbbing and the occasional flash of white hot agony.

"We need to find food. There is no way this place has a food court, Tom."

[pimpcanes]

"One fewer thing for me to blow sky high," he says, with a sigh to show he's joking. "Tell me, what are your opinions on cannibalism? I heard that the Capitol isn't fond, but I haven't ruled out the possibility that they expect it of us."

[molotov]

"I promised Jolie I'd try to avoid it, but I won't starve." Her breathing is labored, getting rougher with every step. "Not that I'm terribly keen on the option, mind you. Maybe there will be some kind of animal around, something non-human that can be cooked and eaten."

[pimpcanes]

"At least with a human, you know what its makeup is." Tom wrinkles his nose a bit. There's hardly any way to be optimistic in this situation. "For all we know, the aliens are toxic. There was an Arena not long ago where all the foliage was indigestible. Terribly boring."

He slows down his pace, trying to keep her from tiring on him.

[molotov]

"Well I didn't mean we should eat aliens." It's a grumble, like she's annoyed that he misunderstood her. She meant that maybe there were rats or something. "There has to be some kind of food somewhere."

/wrap

[pimpcanes]

"We can only hope." Tom frowns and brings his arm up a little around her waist, to make walking easier. "Come now. Shelter can't be far."