Panem Events (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
etcircenses) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-12-05 09:26 pm
etcircenses) wrote in thearena2014-12-05 09:26 pm
Entry tags:
- ! arena 12,
- aang,
- anna of arendelle,
- black tom cassidy,
- bucky barnes (mcu),
- cassandra marko,
- clint barton,
- commander shepard,
- daryl dixon,
- haruto soma,
- jet link,
- karkat vantas,
- kousuke nitou,
- molotov cocktease,
- sam wilson,
- sigma klim,
- terezi pyrope,
- the grand highblood,
- the signless,
- ✘ beth greene,
- ✘ bro strider,
- ✘ brock samson,
- ✘ bruce banner,
- ✘ bucky barnes (616),
- ✘ cassian,
- ✘ clementine,
- ✘ dave strider,
- ✘ garrus vakarian,
- ✘ gary epps,
- ✘ grantaire,
- ✘ iskierka,
- ✘ kenny mccormick,
- ✘ luke,
- ✘ marco,
- ✘ milla vodello,
- ✘ natasha romanoff,
- ✘ nick (twd),
- ✘ nill,
- ✘ pixie,
- ✘ ruffnut thorston,
- ✘ samwise gamgee,
- ✘ steve rogers,
- ✘ thor odinson,
- ✘ tony stark,
- ✘ venus dee milo
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
no subject
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..."
no subject
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.
no subject
"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?"
no subject
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.
no subject
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."
no subject
"Kill or be killed," he surmises. He turns to look back at Nick, still trying to get the measure of him. "Don't gotta be that way. Killin' in self defense is one thing. Murder's another."
No one can make them murder other people. They can choose who they are, who they will be. Part of him still believes none of the good people make it, but it's considerably harder to disregard everything that Beth believes — some of which she has him believing now, too. She'd been right. And he hadn't been too proud to tell her so.
Nick obviously has some kind of experience dealing with shit, but something about him still seems a bit green to Daryl, and he finds himself hoping this guy won't end up being another casualty of what this fucked up world does to people. Woodbury. Terminus. Joe's group. Grady. Assuming that he isn't already on that path...
Getting up, he writes this scavenging off as a lost cause. Maybe other rooms will have something. It's imperative that he keeps moving, though; finding Beth is his priority. He cautiously makes his way through to the other doorway he'd spotted, and pauses there for a moment, calling back over his shoulder. "You comin'?"
For better or worse, he's decided to keep helping Nick.
no subject
But it's the way things are and he can't afford to stand around biting his nails, so he looks up at Daryl as the other mentions the differences between self-defense and murder. Murder. The word makes his stomach lurch as the image of a man falling off a bridge comes to mind...blood on his hands that will never wash off. "Yeah," he says while staring at the brittle pieces of glass. He can relate. "You're right."
He turns his head over to the door where they came in from and frowns when he still hears the critters out there. "Guess there ain't much of a choice." As he waits for Daryl to proceed first, he feels to need to ask. "Have you killed anyone?"
Whether it's in the arena or wherever the hell he's from, Nick has to know.
no subject
"Here, no one," he eventually replies, surveying the room. "Before all this, only the ones who tried t'kill me or my people first." It's a good thing to ask, and he doesn't fault Nick for wondering, which is why he answers honestly. Something catches his eye in a corner — what appears to be a safety shower — and he makes a beeline for it, hoping for water.
"I'm lookin' for one'a my people," he admits while messing with the shower, trying to get it to work. "I found her here... then we got separated." The shower head begins to sputter and Daryl warily steps away from it. After a few seconds, there's a full stream of something that definitely isn't water coming out, a clear liquid that smells like rubbing alcohol. He risks holding a hand under the stream, and when his flesh doesn't melt off, assumes it's the real deal and brings his other hand up and rubs them together, effectively washing off the muck. Water would've been preferable for drinking purposes, but he isn't complaining. The location of this shower is worth remembering.
"What about you? You killed anyone?"
no subject
He doesn't know what to say about them getting separated because saying sorry sure isn't going to help and he'd rather tell himself that in his mind than hear another person do it with their voice.
He feels relieved for only a short time when Daryl discovers the water, only for the smell to give away what it actually is. He moves to where the cupboards are, letting his hand settle over them to make sure nothing was moving inside before opening them in hopes of finding something useful. He's in the middle of sliding some beakers aside when Daryl asks him the question. Slowly, he lowers his hand and looks at the white counter he rests it on and tries not to imagine it being stained with blood. It'd be so much easier to play along and agree, but crossing the gray area never has been an easy thing for Nick to do with a clear conscience.
Especially when He turns to face Daryl, unsure of how to respond and it's evident in his face just how much.
"No one here," he answers, trying to work out the tangled thoughts that have been set aside for far too long. He remembers the devastation on Walter's face when he tells him about Matthew and the fact that he was forgiven for it makes it all the more difficult to swallow. He'll never feel like he deserves any and it's all too late to make any amends as it is impossible.
"I was just tryin' to protect my friends." Now he sounds like he's making an excuse in front of someone who doesn't need to know shit and he hates himself for it. He tells himself to remember where he is, that this ain't the lodge and Daryl doesn't need to know about his fuck ups. Gotta fucking focus. "The same ones I'm lookin' for right now."
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
"Clementine and Luke," he repeats, committing their names and physical descriptions to memory. "If I come across either of 'em, I'll do what I can." Nick doesn't seem like much of an actor, so the hint of fondness when describing his one friend is probably genuine, Daryl decides. That's a good thing; it lends credence to his story about searching for these people.
"Mine's a blonde girl, about," he raises one of his hands to illustrate her height, much shorter than he is, "this tall. Light green suit. Beth's more likely to help someone than hurt 'em." And that's one of his biggest concerns at the moment. What if Beth tries to help the wrong person? Tributes obviously aren't given any choice in being here, judging by his own situation, but it seems highly unlikely that they'll all refrain from violence. Odds are there's a few out there who might be actively hunting other tributes and aiming to "win".
no subject
It's probably still too early to say (he'd be a hundred percent certain if his instincts hadn't backfired on him before), but he doesn't peg Daryl to be that sort person.
"Thanks," he says with an appreciative nod, listening to Daryl's description. His face is still laced with worry for Clem and Luke. He'd rather hear it from someone that they're alive rather than see their names in the void of space.
There's a glint in his eyes when Daryl says her name. "You know Beth?" It wasn't long ago that she and Luke were singing some Tom Waits while Nick was listening along and enjoying the cookies she made for them. And she's out there too, somewhere.
no subject
"Beth Greene?" he presses, becoming more animated than he had been, grasping after this little spark of hope. Nick clearly has his attention with that. "You seen her anywhere? That's who I'm lookin' for. We were in a bad spot, pinned down..." He trails off without elaborating further. Even if Nick does know her (his recognition had seemed sincere), there's no need to get into the ugly details. All that matters is getting to her.
With a renewed sense of urgency and the empty beaker still in hand he's moving through the room, only to be brought up short by the rows of lasers that have abruptly flickered to life before him, barring their passage to the door beyond, which presumably leads back out into the spaceport proper. He looks back to Nick with his eyebrows raised, wearing a you've got to be shitting me expression.
no subject
He isn't sure if Daryl is aware about the fact that not everyone here is from the same place. And even if they are, they could be from a different timeline such as the case with Clementine. Even with the weird shit happening around them, it's a tough pill to swallow, that there are others out there who aren't even human or have it even worse than they do. Nick's already slightly envious of those that never had to deal with lurkers.
"She's a nice girl," Nick begins as he moves around the tables to catch up to Daryl. "If I see her, I'll - huh?"
The look he returns to Daryl is saying the same thing. Their lives are just a god damn movie it looks like. Curiously, he kneels down to pick up a piece of plaster broken off from the wall and tosses it into the strings of light. It's hard for him to hide his bewilderment at the sight of the plaster landing on the floor, now diced to pieces. But he regains his composure (or it appears that way anyhow), appearing more annoyed if anything.
"Well, fuck."
no subject
He's already cottoning on to the fact they may just be in some alternate reality, universe, whatever best applies here. He's seen some Tributes who were pretty obviously not even human. Then there's all the roaming aliens, and the spaceport itself... He has picked up on the unusual way Nick has talked about home a couple times now, but isn't sure how reliable information from him might be.
Well. Fuck pretty much sums up the situation.
There's a row of different coloured switches on a nearby panel jutting out from the wall, the only other thing of interest in the area besides the lasers. It isn't difficult putting two and two together, so he steps over to mess with the panel. The first switch causes the lasers to begin moving. The second switch does the same, but in a different pattern in conjunction with the first one. Moving both switches to the off position and then flipping only the second one causes yet another pattern variation. The key seems to be in finding the correct combination that will make a pathway through, and with as many switches as there are to test, they could be there for quite a while...
"Take walkers any day over this bullshit," he mutters as he begins testing combinations.
"Beth ain't got a mean bone in her body," he says, returning to better topics. "If there's anyone who don't deserve to be here, it's her."