Two fruitcakes walk into a space station

[casaerotica13]

Who| Gabriel and YOU
What| Backstreet's back, all right! Come welcome an angst ridden, powerful archangel home.
Where| Anywhere inside the space station (he can teleport and hear prayers)
When| Week 2, Christmas evening
Warnings/Notes| Gabriel has some of his powers back. That in itself is a warning. List of abilities he can use is in here.


For the first moment since he's arrived back in what he's deemed to be his personal Hell, Gabriel can honestly say that he isn't afraid. At least, not as badly as he thought he'd be. He's going to die, that's a given. This arena is also strange and unearthly. He can hear things crawling in the walls.

It's not the hilarious little elf outfits. It's certainly not the power tingling through his mortal skin, while that is somewhat of a comfort. It's not even the fruitcake he's been happily packing around in one hand for hard times, walking as if he's a waiter and it's the dinner tray for whoever he dares to treat tonight. It's not the Gamemaker's new score for him and it's not the fact that his old fans must be recognizing him right about now and it's not even the very likely fact that all of his previous friends' suffering is likely over.

No. It's space. Or rather, the God awful illusion of such. Gabriel, for some reason, found so much comfort in the fact that they were forced to fake it. With all of their technology and boasting and grandeur, they've done nothing but take a massive step backwards. They couldn't even go into space anymore. It's fitting. They want to destroy themselves, then they should at least remain flightless with their wings ripped apart like proper outcasts. Did they truly think no one would notice? Did they truly think that he would not notice?

That's why he's whistling. Because he's going to die and it's going to be brutal and he will never find true safety again, but which one of them has truly lost? There's always something to be happy about. And he is happy.

A ridiculous looking elf attempted to suddenly rush him from a dark corner, but Gabriel hardly took notice as he kicked the thing aside, the elf sailing much further than it should. It's engrossed eyes seared with light and it screamed and clawed at it's eyes once landing, but it was dead in merely a few seconds. Gabriel didn't care. He made sure to look as if he didn't care about anything, but he listened very closely for the thoughts and possible prayers of his old friends, as much as he didn't want to.

Comments

[celebrityskinned]

Venus is one of those people who runs towards screaming instead of away from it. Despite all these years now of powerlessness, she still has that sense of invincibility, that aura of apathy to her own safety that neuters the threats around her. And that's why when she hears a squeal, and then hears it snuffed out, she stops what she's doing and peeks out of the science labs before turning down the hallway of the crime.

She comes face to face with Gabriel, and for a moment isn't sure if she's addressing another human or one of the Gamemakers' tricks. Did Gabriel have close enough friends to be someone's personal hell, like those orbs that follow people around screaming in their loved ones' voices or the reanimated dead of two Arenas past?

"Long time no see." She never spoke much to Gabriel, but her face still cracks into a crooked smile. She's uglier than the last time he saw her, her face half-melted and scarred by the Capitol's traitor brand. If Gabriel's back, why not Guy? Why not Enjolras? "Fancy seeing you in this place."

I am finally here, I swear

[casaerotica13]

He stops walking as soon as this new woman makes an appearance. It's the first tribute he's seen since entering the arena, and he's always a bit wary of those. After all, his powers could fade at literally any second and all he has is a fruit cake to defend himself with. The smart choice would be to kill her now.

But he doesn't want to. As much as he fears death, as much as the allure of not having to return to these awful arenas sounds so sweet to his ears, he knows it's unavoidable. Why be a dick about it to his fellow inmates? Or, rather, an unprovoked dick.

So he squints at her, finding the old face beneath the scarred flesh, and points to her. "I remember you. You were brutal." At least she was the few times he had seen her on the playbacks. "Or the Capitol made you look brutal. What's your name again? It was something exotic. I remember that much."

She's still here. How long had he been gone? Was his friends still here? What happened to her? Why did that happen to her?

[celebrityskinned]

"I still am."

It's not a word she likes, 'brutal'. It sounds animalistic, makes the mouth move in ugly ways to produce it, and unfortunately it sticks to her Arena persona as closely as if it were glue. She can try to dress it up as valiant, as moral, as efficient or necessary or even kind, but at the end of the day all the murder boils down to a single clumsy word.

Brutal.

It's something of a relief that he remembers her. Sometimes people come back and have to adjust all over again, like eyes that have been exposed to light an then returned to the dark. "Venus. And you're...Gabriel, right? You were here about a year ago, maybe less. You blew up the museum."

[biiowiired]

The Ψiioniic knew that if his full power was released, Panem's fragile regime wouldn't stand a chance. Psii could level this entire arena or pick it up and jettison it to actual space. High-level psionics like himself were routinely exploited for interstellar travel, installed as living batteries in Alternian battleships. Luckily for him, he'd escaped his far more ordinary slavery of manual labor before his powers could be discovered. Now he was captive again. He knew his true enemies were in the Capitol, not here in this sham of a spaceport. Even while trapped in his first arena with Tributes looking to kill him, he was keeping two eyes out for any way he could break his prison.

If only his optic blasts weren't weakened enough to be deterred by the spaceport's thick walls. They worked well enough on organic matter, though. The only evidence of the creatures he killed were walls stenciled with the shapes of incinerated beasts, as in an atomic blast. Now Psii kept to the darkest parts of the station, the abandoned levels, his nocturnal eyes serving him well. He'd take his chances with the xenomorphs, more predictable than Tributes.

Four horns topped the lanky troll's head, and he was clad in District 9's yellow. (If he got out of this alive, he'd make so many space banana jokes.) In the occasional pocket of light, he wasn't exactly hard to miss, especially when he was forced to use his light show. He was still quelling his oscillating red and blue sparks after wasting several elves when he realized he wasn't alone.

Anyone who had the audacity to whistle was bad news. Like a Laughsassin announcing their arrival with a trademark clown honk. It was too late, he was caught. He immediately surrounded himself with sparks again, a wall of telekinesis shimmering in warning waves. A shield. He might be hungry, paranoid, and a little trigger-happy, but he didn't want to kill any Tributes unless they attacked him first.

[casaerotica13]

He heard something and Gabriel stopped in mid step, the whistling song dying away. There was a faint glow, so he took a few careful steps forward until he could poke his head around the corner and see what this new light show was.

He was actually surprised that it was someone. And, what's worse, this one looked familiar, too.

Even if Gabriel wanted to go on the offensive, this whatever it was obviously was meant to be a form of barrier. But if it kept Gabe out, maybe it kept his new friend in. So he smirked and leaned against the wall. "Pretty. Very sparkly."

[biiowiired]

It was always the most beautiful things that were deadliest. Brightly-colored venomous slitherbeasts, well-dressed jadeblooded rainbow drinkers, and flashy powers that could kill with a thought. Psii didn't need to lower his shield to pick someone up and crack their head open on a wall, but he didn't dare. Gabriel's seeming nonchalantness put him on edge. Why wasn't he afraid?

Any troll face-to-face with a high-level psionic proceeded with caution, but then again, Psii couldn't expect every alien to know what lowbloods could do. Even if people here remembered his future self, the Helmsman who had been here before, many of those people were probably dead by now. Tributes were afraid of permanent death enough to try avoiding it in the arenas.

As long as he and this stranger were talking instead of fighting, Psii was willing to play along. If the Capitol wanted to see Psii fight, they'd see snarking instead. He was contrary like that. Hell, during his scoring assessment, he'd thrown down the weapons and made an obscene gesture at the Gamemakers instead.

"Oh, why thank you, I didn't think you notithed. Doeth it look good on me? It'th not really my color, but I couldn't rethitht...."

He leaned on one hip and preened the hair around his horns in a fair imitation of his friend, the Dolorosa. His red and blue shield remained firmly in place.