thearena | [Open] When I arrive, I bring the fire

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[Open] When I arrive, I bring the fire

Who | Ellis and you!
What | Poor thing went from New Orleans to Alaska
Where | The River
When | Late Week 1, daytime
Warnings/Notes | Expect swearing and violence.

A. Arrival

Ellis barely understood what the people in the shadows told him, that he was here to compete with others...to the death?! He had survived the trek from Savannah to New Orleans, leaving a path of bodies and destruction in his and his friends' wake. And now this?! They were safe! They were finally safe and on a boat to the Gulf! Granted, that wasn't the best plan but it was better than to stay in the mainland and survive until the last bullet. Of course Ellis struggled when the peacekeepers dragged him towards the Arena tube, yelling something about breaking their noses if they let him and bailing out of there. Before he could protest and punch the glass, cold air slapped him into a cough. For a man who lived his whole life in the Deep South, the prehistoric chill tore through El's body like the many scratches and bites he'd gotten over the time he was making his way out of the hordes.

"Holy shit, I'm not in Kansas anymore," he shivered for a bit, rubbing his arms together, and called out for help. "Anybody! Jesus Christ this is fuckin' cold…Coulda used som'thin' warmer than this." He swore he felt his blood start to slush in his veins, "Gotta keep movin', gotta keep warm."

Hope shone upon him as he spotted a sturdy tree branch. It felt heavy, good building material, and it'd do for defending himself. He looked to the sky and let out a sigh while he fixed his hat, "Nick, Ro, Coach, I'mma find a way home, jus' sit tight."

B. Fishing

River fishing wasn't that new a concept for Ellis as he'd grown up with grandparents who lived out there in the countryside. He was rusty about it though if his frustrated grimace was any hint of it. That was the third fish that eluded impalement and it was getting to him. "C'mon Flounder, stay still…" he hissed under his breath. Fruits would have to be put on the backburner, he didn't know which were safe to eat and what could end his stay in the Arena disappointingly early. He needed warmth too, not just stuffing leaves into his jacket. If he had a knife, he'd use that hunting knowledge to make a fur cloak…Fourth time was the charm and he whooped in joy!

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So far, the Arena has been nothing Nick couldn't handle. The most trouble he's had involved geese of all things, he did well at the cornucopia and his Escort liked him enough to send him loot. He was starting to grow on him, hell. A lot of this place was growing on him. Walking through the wilderness, cold as it fucking is, without being attacked by zombies? It was peaceful.

So naturally, it was about time Ellis showed up.

Nick has his hunting knife out, all of his worldly goods in his backpack as he trudges through the woods with negligible levels of stealth. He hardly needs it, considering he can hear some asshole narrating his life story in the distance. It might be an easy kill, and he could use one of those. The numbers need to start going down if he wants a shot at winning and it's survival of the fittest.

Now, he's come across other people with a similar accent to Ellis around here, but the closer he gets the more undeniably Ellis it becomes. Nick pushes through some bushes at an opportune moment, giving Ellis a deadpan look for his grand declaration.

"Finding crop circles is not the same as mastering inter-dimensional travel, Ellis." And here is Nick, in all his grumpy glory. "You talk any louder and you might as well paint a big target on your ass."

Edited 2015-02-07 13:01 (UTC)

Ellis knew that yankee voice anywhere, one that made him instinctively smile and turn around, "You're a sight fer sore eyes, Suit." If there were three people in the world El trusted with his life, Nick was one of them. Surviving months on the road to New Orleans made the mechanic grow to care about the complaining gambler. "An' I dunno, yer a crack shot but not that kind."

The knife gave the young man reason for caution and he switched from jolly friend to survivor in a millisecond, "Any caches out there? There's only so much I can do with rocks an' slings. Any dead I can raid?" He was so used to banter while scavenging that he cracked the fish' spine against the boulder. "I'd like t' hear from you wha' the hell I'm in for."

Nick isn't sure if he agrees that seeing Ellis is a good thing. It's not a good place to be, but neither is home. This is definitely a place for bad people with shifty morals, and Ellis isn't one of those. He's a good guy, and begrudgingly, Nick likes him.

"I didn't mean me, Ellis. We aren't alone." He punctuates that with a suspicious glance around, stepping closer to Ellis now that he's increasingly sure he isn't being fucked with. "The only supplies come from the Cornucopia at the start, and that gets raided faster than a 7/11 with faulty alarms, or up there." He points vaguely at the sky. "If people like you, they send you shit. We're here for entertainment. Better not bore them to death with your stories." He gives Ellis a pointed look, slinging his pack off his shoulders and setting it in front of them.

"I made out like a bandit." Which isn't new, of course. "I've only been here a few weeks, though. Dunno what I can tell you that you don't know."

The 7/11 analogy works pretty damn well and El can't help the slight pout. "Shit, got tossed in here too late t' git something good while you got the king's bounty. Story of my fuckin' life," he spoke up and looked at the backpack, "Betcha you got fans already, knowin' you." All spoken with the same levity as he did to Coach and Rochelle.

Ellis wasn't afraid of being direct with Nick, subtleties became missed cues and that was certain death by Tank, Hunter or Witch. Speaking of, "Is this place free of Infected? I've had enough o' their shit t' last a lifetime."

When he hears the 'entertainment' part of Nick's warnings, El smirked, "Then let's make sure we give 'em a nice show, shall we? We survived Savannah, an' you put it best...we're the riders of the goddamn apocalypse." To say those words again made the mechanic's confidence come back.

"Guess you're off on the wrong foot already." He observes, digging a hand into his pack and pulling out a.. bag of oatmeal, which he tosses at Ellis. "Lucky for you, your old pal Nick has it covered." And he is well aware that a bag of oatmeal isn't what Ellis is after, but he has one knife and he's quite eager to keep it to himself.

"As far as I know, yeah. Someone said that the people running the show bring all sorts of things in to fuck with you, though." His mouth pulls to the side, it's both a smirk and a frown and it's a face Ellis is probably more than used to. "It's almost too quiet without all the gurgling and gasping and incoherent rambling- from you." He couldn't resist making a crack at him, but Ellis is almost bringing a sincere grin to his face.

"That's right. You and me, Ellis. The other two were dead weight anyway." He's not sure he wants them here, he's not sure he wants them back home either. Rochelle could look out for herself, but he'd probably have a knife six inches in his back before he could so much as mention Francis. Coach, on the other hand, was too nice and too old for this shit.

The bag of oatmeal and the shot at his talking habits made Ellis snicker as he caught the bag and started to eat it. Food is food and whatever's good is going into his stomach. "Remind me again why I care about ya, Slick. I seem to forget with your endless whinin' an' bitchin' for hand sanitizer."

It almost felt like home to see that face and to be taunting each other again, "Hey at least I don't snore like a goddamn freight train. I swear, you an' Coach sound louder than the car alarms outside." El's eyes lost their shine when Nick talked about the others as dead weight and earned a look, "Dead weight that kept us safe. Don't tell me yer already forgetting them, are ya?

Being a Georgian, the cold started to bite at him more than it did his companion, "Jesus Christ, this place is gettin' bad fast." He looked miserable in that flimsy coat of his. "There better be shelter close..."

There's a small stockpile of food in that backpack, but Nick isn't going to advertise that fact yet. He raises a brow at Ellis when he starts to eat oatmeal like that, but he can't blame him. By the looks of it, he came in straight from home rather than the Capitol.

"You like me because I keep your ass fed, and now I'm going to like you because I'm gonna lie my ass down and sleep while you sit there and endure it." He sneers at Ellis, rolling his eyes when he takes that hardhearted quip seriously. "Gimme a break, I was joking. I've only been here a few weeks, I'm not senile." That part comes a little defensively, but he can can distract from it by drawing a blanket out and tossing it at Ellis for him to drape over his shoulders.

"Here, use this and quit bitching. There's no homes or barns 'round here, it's all terrain. Our best bet is a cave, so we've got climbing to do." He jerks a thumb vaguely in the direction he intends to head in, then considers what Jason might think of him sharing his shit like this. He doesn't expect him to tough it alone, does he? He just hopes it doesn't end in a lack of sponsor gifts- which brings about a question. "Did they tell you which District you're fighting for?"

"Hey you said it not me, sugar," Ellis knows Nick was an opportunist but the mechanic trusts the gambler to have his reasons. Nick's assessment would be right, El had been reaped in the night, unable to get anything in his system. He looked over to his friend and blinked, "District 4...why? What's yours?" Any hopes of a permanent alliance would be dashed as they were in competing Districts. Nothing like the Apocalypse to make people get closer.

But the invitation to the cave and the blanket was a big enough comfort that El agreed to the watch, "Sure thing, Nikita. You need yer beauty rest an' such!" That was the Ellis Nick knew: a hyper-as-dick pup of a man who was loyal and eager to get something done.

"Okay, the nicknames have got to stop or I will make them stop." He gives Ellis a scowl for his trouble, but he is fortunately unaware of how the Capitol can twist perceptions and make stories out of nothing. If they come out of this with stories being written about them, he's blaming Ellis.

"Four. Right. I'm in seven, lumber, but they couldn't get me an axe?" His distaste for it is palatable. He glances upward vaguely again, as if concerned that Jason will smite him this very moment for his association with Ellis. "I'll be lucky if I come out of this damn thing without crow's feet, and that's no laughing matter." No, really, his voice is completely serious. "But it beats zombies.." He draws in a breath so he can sigh in relief for emphasis. "It really, really beats zombies."

"Fine, fine," the mechanic huffed out, "I'll stop callin' ya names if it hurts your feelings that much." Oh goddammit Ellis. He'd learn the hard way that survival isn't the only concept he'd have to learn in Panem. "At least people have a sense of humor, or it's karma bitin' ya in the ass again, like that Charger over at Screaming Oaks." Karma Charger sees all, that's what El figured.

But if there was something he didn't expect to see in his life, was to see Nick relax. It hurt to admit that everything El knew, grew up with was dead and now gone. "Answer me this before we head out: are we safe?" That question was deceivingly simple but after people suddenly getting infected, a bombing and God knows what else, the younger man's confidence in their environment needed to be solid.

"If karma is kicking my ass, it's doing a number on you." He points out, because technically he's better off than Ellis is right now what with all his stashed goods and information. "That Charger had nothing to do with karma and everything to do with the fact that something that big shouldn't be able to move that fast." He rubs a hand over his neck, vividly recalling the ache from being charged.

His mouth tightens into a deep frown when Ellis puts forward a question like that. "Depends." He says vaguely, stepping out into the forest so they can head toward a cave or something resembling shelter. "What scares you more, people or zombies? Because either way, they're out to get us." There's just less humans, less of a soulless desire to hunt and an uneven playing field.

Ellis followed Nick as best as he could, trying not to trip on the blanket. "It may be but I don't bruise as easily as you, Nick," he retorted with a grin, then remembered, "Man Coach an' I had to get your foot back in position after that one."

The mechanic's fears ran along his limbs as he answered Nick's question. "People scare me more. Zombies don't think...they don't plan murders." This gambler without scruples was probably the only person in Panem that El allowed to see his vulnerable side. And by God, those blue eyes had that same level of uncertainty as when they found the pile of uninfected people, dead by gunshot, along with the skinless cows.

Just as Ellis tries not to trip on the blanket, Nick tried not to roll his eyes. The guy moves like a baby horse, but he fights like a pitbull and that's what matters when you're back to back against zombies.

He pointedly moves past the discussion of his foot, because he doesn't like to reflect on that mental image more than he needs to. He's looked all sorts of ugly fucking zombies in the face, but there's nothing as unsettling as watching your foot dangle like that.

"That's the thing, though. Zombies just go for it, there's no reasoning with 'em. People hesitate. They have feelings and shit. They need to eat and sleep and drink." He points that out in a bored tone, but he's clearly been thinking about it. "Seems like a lot of people don't want to be here."

"So..." and one of the worst possible combinations of words came out of El's mouth, "Do we put them outta their misery? Quick an' painless," he doesn't mean it in any hurtful way, but it's a reality that the younger man has started to come to terms with. "I feel horrible jus' thinkin' like that but if it's the case, I'd rather see 'em go home or somewhere less problematic."

He didn't like thinking like Nick, he really didn't. Ellis believed there were other ways to solve problems that didn't end in him killing anybody that wasn't infected.

"Nick, if I'm ever dyin' or if we're the last two, just make it quick an' from behind."

"The way I see it, we win this thing and we're set for life. No zombies, no bullshit, just food and shelter and showers and fine ladies." That is, of course, the self-obsessed answer one might expect from Nick. He does go on to give Ellis a more serious answer, at least. "Most of 'em will show up back in the Capitol, we all live in a big, fancy tower. Figure it's better than being here, right?"

He raises a brow at Ellis. "Some of them, though. Some of them die for good." And with Ellis' request, Nick feels it's appropriate to bring up something someone told him in the Capitol. "They said you were here before, too. That you didn't come back. Thought I'd never hear one of your stupid stories ever again." With that, he offers him a small but sincere smile, so Ellis understands that he's happy to have him here. "Right back atcha, pal. Make it quick, no sappy bullshit."

"Of course yer thinking about the tail you're gonna get," Ellis rolled his eyes at the answer but the thought of a safe home was almost too much for him to think. "I'm surprised you didn't mention all the cheap suits you could ever want. Snakeskin anyone? I suppose if it'll git ya laid, it works."

The smile would be returned with a wink, "To hell an' back, brother, I knew you'd miss me." At least he could count on Nick to be a true friend and not waste resources trying to patch him up."

For him, Districts were merely name tags: until further notice, his loyalty lies with the gambler and no one else.

"We have fans, Ellis. People are watching us, admiring us. You can't tell me you aren't thinking about it." Nick reaches out to give Ellis a companionable nudge with his elbow before his face falls. "Not cheap, expensive. The best there is. We have Stylists, they custom make all of our stuff. If you're lucky, you can look like a gosh-darn tootin' professhunul hick."

He puts on a bit of an accent to piss him off, throwing an arm over the top of Ellis' shoulders almost affectionately. "You have a funny way of willfully misinterpreting my shit, Ellis." He says that, but there's a small smile playing on his lips. "You know what? I think we're gonna be alright."

Having Ellis here wasn't ideal, but he's glad for it. The uncertainty as to whether he was really dead or not had been eating at Nick, but now he can have at least a little relief before everything goes to shit again.

"The only difference is I'll make those clothes look good, sugar," Ellis crooned at the idea, "Better than you Yanks, you ain't got tha' Southern charm."

The assurance was received in stride as El leaned a bit closer, "It's wha' I do, ever since the Vannah, Nick." That hotel was probably cinders now but it wouldn't be remembered like that. "I know we will be, we're back to back again. Bust heads, take names an' maybe one of us will get to the top."

That was the plan anyways. And for all the smacktalk the two exchanged, Ellis couldn't imagine going into a battle royale with anyone else but Nick.

Beth's spent her whole life living in Georgia, and the sheer brutality of the cold here would almost be enough to make her keel over if it weren't for the parka, hat and gloves currently shielding her from the worst of it. She's got a knife in her hand, but she's only really here to gather water with a makeshift container fashioned out of one of the food parachutes she was sent. Trying to pull her weight so she doesn't have to rely on the others as much.

But when she hears someone calling for help, she makes her way over almost automatically. Ignoring instincts that Rick and Daryl might caution her about. She trudges stubbornly through the snow, cupping a hand against her forehead to try and see through the snow.

"Hello? Are you alright over there?"

To hear a female voice that wasn't Rochelle or a Witch's screech startled Ellis into almost losing his meal. "No you don't!" he hissed at the fish and tossed it into the snow, and away from the water. Not a pleasant way to die but it was something and the mechanic was hungry.

"Ma'am? Are y'all right?" he called out, hoping it was a friendly face rather than, say, a chainsaw wielding maniac.

She watches the fish flop helplessly on the snow for a second but to be honest, it's probably no less gross than Daryl hunting down snakes and skinning them in front of her. She's seen a lot worse. His accent is a familiar one, though. It sounds like hers. Beth moves closer, a small girl huddled in her big jacket.

"Hey. Sorry, I just thought I heard someone callin' out round here. Thought I could help, maybe," it's probably naive, but she's never wanted to be the kind of person who was obsessed with survival at any cost.

"Well thank ya kindly, Miss," Southern hospitality never left this one and he tipped his hat towards Beth with a grin, "I'd really appreciate it." If there was something El learned back home it was that no help should go unnoticed. But first, he stomped on the fish's head, to give it a quick death. He then offered, "Split 50-50, makes a good snack." He's also a chatterbox...

The more he studied Beth, the more he realized she came from his world or someplace similar. That worn-out look of survival. "Are ya with a group? Please gimme that peace of mind."

The Southern hospitality is noted and appreciated. It's been a really long time since anyone called her ma'am or miss, and it brings back memories of better times. When it was easier for people to be kind. She doesn't actually blink when he stomps on the fish. She might have at one point, but she's seen worse sights than that.

"I'm -" she hesitates for a moment. Rick told her to be careful, and she doesn't want to trust the wrong people and put them in danger. But she figures that they're probably capable of taking care of themselves, and he seems nice enough at first glance.

Mostly, she doesn't want to become that kind of jaded person that expects the worst from people. "Yeah. What about you? It doesn't really seem safe to be alone out here."

"I'm alone fer the moment, though I thought I saw my-" Ellis stopped himself as well, he wasn't one to put Nick in danger if he could avoid it. "My old partner runnin' around these parts."

The thing about Ellis is, as he demonstrated when he offered his meal, is that he wears his heart on his sleeve. "Have ya been here long? You an' your group?" He bristles a bit of the cold, "Kansas this ain't an' I'm afraid Toto's not gonna be a tiny yappin' dog."

"A couple months maybe? Four, I think," enough to have been through two arenas already, one of them apparently made specifically for children to slaughter each other in. Complete with cartoon characters and arcade games for added irony. Because that's the sort of entertainment the capitol seems to love. "You look like you're new around here," she bites back the urge to say I'm sorry and tack it on the end of that.

"I am, just dropped in to take the sights, an' this cold. Real scenic," Ellis added with a grin that was more sheepish than confident. "They took me away from a survivor camp...though I'd rather be here than out at sea."

He says that now, before the horrors set in and he sees the brutality of it all.

She wants to tell him that he can't know that. Because no matter how terrible her world gets, she'd rather be back there with the walkers because it's a world where she knows the rules. And in some small way, she knows how to survive. And if they end up dying, it isn't for someone else's entertainment.

She casts a worried look at him, her frown creasing at his words. "What kind of survivor camp? It's just...this place really ain't what it seems. You need to be careful."

"A cruise ship out at sea, though if I'm honest, it'd be a tickin' time bomb if one of us Immunes turned out to be a Carrier," Ellis thought for a moment, "We'd all be out at sea, slaughtered."

Beth's warning ran a bell in his mind, something that would've been great to know but bad for the show itself. "Sounds like you've been on their bad side at least once." And knowing himself, El knew he might have a few scoldings, Capitol style.

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[Open] When I arrive, I bring the fire

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wanna wind this one up?

sure!

B.

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