Underneath It All, We're Just Savages [Closed]

[pimpcanes]

WHO| Tom and Luke and Beth, Tom and the Psiioniic, Tom and Albert and Arya
WHAT| Tom gets injured during the patch game, kills a troll, and runs afoul of a cyborg.
WHERE| Throughout the forest near the lake.
WHEN| Week 3-4
WARNINGS| Death and violence.



I. Luke and Beth

The patch-capture seems almost quaint, the juxtaposition of the playful nature of the rules and the murderous stakes of the winnings as comical and twee as the cross between a death festival and the name "Hunger Games". Tom finds no small amount of amusement in it, and by early morning has convinced Arya to take part in it with him. The two of them sweep their way through the forest, the portrait of amiability. If it weren't for the knife that Tom carries in his palm, playing idly with, and the matching one that Arya's equipped with, they might look like a man taking his granddaughter for a stroll through a particularly wet and clammy winter.

That is, of course, until they hear others in the wood. From there they hunker down, alert, predatory, near hungry despite having been fed many times over from the generous Sponsor gifts and Molotov's hunts. At the moment there are figures moving through a snowy dell north of them, and to the east of them in the marsh.

"You manage the ones up north, will you, lass? We'll rendezvous here when the sun sets." He watches Arya go, impressed time and again with the girl's spunk and competence, before heading towards the marsh, keeping careful track of which trees he's passing so he can find his way back here when dusk comes. He could follow his footprints, but he doesn't trust the Gamemakers not to change them. They likely could change the trees too, but that seems more effort than would be useful. He's sure the Gamemakers find his rapport with Arya charming at best, harmless at worst.

He sees a blonde head of hair in the marsh, and he doesn't announce his presence. He pulls the knife out and moves near-silently through the snow-weighted bushes behind her.


II. Psiioniic and III. Albert and Arya

The end of the patch game really means very little to Tom; he plans to continue as he has with Molotov and Arya, and has put in his best effort not to let the stab wound in his shoulder slow him down. It's difficult, of course - the swelling has made it hard to sleep or to properly grip a knife with his right hand - but he only complains when Molotov's ears are sympathetic. As soon as Molotov mentions that they haven't done all that much killing this Arena, Tom shuts right up and sulks at the corner of their camp like a wet cat.

It's this insecurity, this gutting knowledge of his own uselessness, that drives him to spend longer each day looking for someone to kill and rob. It doesn't sit well with him to be both in pain and without an earned reputation to soothe it, nor does it settle peacefully in his stomach to have had such an uneventful Arena. He goes into the woods with his blade and a cudgel fashioned from a felled tree, made almost entirely unrecognizable by a ski mask and his heavy parka, hat and scarf.

He sees someone hunched over a part of the river that hasn't frozen over, collecting water, and he slips forward, looking not entirely unlike a panther moving through jungle reeds. He hopes to be silent, but the ground under him has different ideas for him.

As soon as the ice beneath his feet crackles and announces his presence, he swings the cudgel at his victim's head like a baseball bat.

Comments

III

[silberfuchs]

The second the cudgel does swinging, Albert throws up his arm to block it and sweeps the water container with his other hand, sending frigid snowmelt across Tom's body. The crack on the ice had merely been a warning to the other man's strike. His approach on the other hand, Albert had been aware of for a short while. The older man's pale eyes may not be adjusting well to the brightness of the sun on snow, but his hearing more than makes up for it and always has, especially when he's actively listening to what's going on around him. It would be foolish not to in the Arena.

It's a welcome realization that his attacker is Tom Cassidy, though, made apparent by the mustache peeking through the gaps between the scarf and ski mask. Albert won't have any inner moral dilemma over the resulting fight at least.

The blow of the cudgel against his metal arm is jarring to Albert's flesh and blood shoulder but it still stops the weapon, allowing the cyborg to twist in such a way that will send it sliding off his cuff. The water will do little, unless he got lucky and it seeped into the parka, but he's quick to bring the metal bottle up and aim a blow to the man's face on the heels of his first useless counterattack.

Re: III

[pimpcanes]

He was expecting - hoping - for the cudgel to hit Albert in the back of the head, for the jolt rushing up his arms from the collision to be the familiar padded crack of wood on a skull rather than a clang of metal. As it stands, the shock nearly knocks the club from his hands, which are numbed now as if they were pressed to an electrical circuit.

He barely has time to notice that before there's water coming at his face. Anticipation quickly turns to irritation, then to rage at seeing it's Albert again, one of the trio that so wrenched victory from his grasp last time.

He takes the water to the side of his face, in one eye. He gives a cry of anger and surprise and shoves the end of the cudgel at Albert's stomach - a place he believes to lack the metal protection.

[silberfuchs]

There are very few people who even in the Arena put Albert on the attack and Tom is one of the unlucky few. Were he most anyone else Albert would seek self defense and an escape, actively attacking only as a feint for those goals. Tom, though, Tom gets the lock of Albert's eyes, cold as the snow still piled in the landscape around them.

Which disappears briefly as the cyborg closes his eyes in a flinch at the blow to his stomach that sends him sliding backwards, trying to catch his balance and regain air in his lungs both at once. He doesn't fall, thankfully sliding back to the edge of the ice and hitting mucky slush, but his breathing is still labored for a moment as he reaches into his boot for the hunting knife Jet insists either of them take when they venture from the cave. It's out in a flash and Albert holds it in front of himself, silent and watching for Tom's next move.

Or for an opening.

[pimpcanes]

Tom gives very few openings, because he's a combatant and a killer and he's had thirty years of experience with these matters. A cudgel is his favored weapon, and his onslaught is fairly relentless, pushing Albert back towards the slush and water. He throws a few blows towards Albert's arm, trying to get a hit to the wrist that'll disarm him, but it's for no luck.

"No little girl to help you this time, Heinrich!"

But he does settle back awkwardly on that one leg for a moment, giving Albert not a chance to stab but maybe to knock over.

[silberfuchs]

Against someone fully human, blows to the arms would undoubtedly work coming from Tom. He's strong, and though bludgeoning lacks finesse in general he clearly knows where and how to hit. But Albert's wrists are metal and he doesn't have the same reaction to impact as a human hand. There are no tendons to snap or bones to crush and wood can only go so far against alloy.

Yet the pressed attack isn't fruitless, Albert is still driven backwards, though luckily near parallel to the water instead of directly towards it. He'll still land in the drink eventually if Tom keeps up, but instead the ice makes it difficult for both of them and Tom missteps, giving Albert an award shot that if he were playing it safe he wouldn't take. But seeing as he's soon to lose any advantage he may have felt he had, Albert takes his chance.

At the wobble on ice, Albert turns his shoulder and shoves under Tom's arm like a linebacker, hoping to at least knock the man down if not make him drop the club. Of course, it puts him in an easy position to be knocked down too and send both men into a struggling heap.

arya next?

[pimpcanes]

Albert's shove hits home, but the slide of the ice drags them both down. The cudgel goes sliding from Tom's hand, making a rackety noise as it clatters over the ice. Both he and Albert go down from the tackle with a crunch and a splash as the ice under Tom's back cracks, as the icewater of the shallows splashes and pools up around them.

Tom kicks and shoves, suddenly fierce as a weasel in a trap, knowing that he's lost any advantage he may have started with. His hand, looking near as white as the snow in the cold, grapples for Albert's face, for his eyes, for his throat. His eyes reflect that same colorlessness, rolling with the impact and the shock of the temperature and squeezed tight by the snarl on his face.

He's aware throughout this that for a second time, he may be the victim of this same man he's tried to kill.

[needlebearer]

She'd heard the crack of the ice and assumed that someone had gone straight under, though whether it was someone trying to attack them or an animal that had tried to cross the lake and misjudged the thickness of the icy surface. It's that wariness that means she doesn't come running immediately, instead loading the gun as Tom had taught her and making sure her knife was in her belt before tentatively poking her head around a tree. When she sees Tom and Albert struggling together in the shallow water, the vicious intent to kill in both of their eyes, she knows she needs to do something, or in a few short seconds the man who's protected her in the Arena would be dead and she'd soon follow.

She tries to aim for Albert but she's still a complete novice when it comes to firearms, and the shot goes wide by a long way. She hopes the noise of the gunshot is enough to get them to pause, at least.

[silberfuchs]

In that, at least, Arya is correct. The gunshot makes Albert pause mentally but with Tom trying to get his thumbs in the cyborg's eye sockets it takes him some serious effort to break away considering the dive into freezing water wrested the air from his lungs for an interminable moment. His arms and legs may be unfeeling, but his core is still organic and susceptible to cold.

And bullets.

He struggles away from Tom, trying to shove him down even has he breaks away, clawing for the icy bank and attempting to heave himself from the water with his hair hanging in his eyes like snow-covered moss.

[pimpcanes]

Tom's head goes under the water, and though he emerges only a moment later, the shock to his sinuses and the way it's blinded him with his hair and eyelashes gives him enough reason to not try to attack Albert as the cyborg hoists himself up out of the water.

He shoves himself backwards, towards the shore, onto the river rocks and harder ice, sopping wet and pale, looking like a half-melted candle with water running down his face. He swivels towards the gunshot.

"Arya! Don't come close, he's dangerous!" It doesn't matter whether he means it or not. He hopes it gives Albert enough pause for him and Arya to escape.

[needlebearer]

"I don't need to come close," she calls back, steadying her feet in the snow and bringing the gun up for another shot. She doesn't shoot just yet, with them both scrabbling about there she's afraid she'll hit Tom by mistake, but she keeps the gun trained on Albert, hoping that combined with the previous shot she'd fired off would be enough of a warning.

[silberfuchs]

"You're more likely to hurt yourself with that gun than me, girl. And Tom, you're the one who kills unsuspecting children in the Arena, not me. Or have you not told her about the food court?" He growls, but he keeps what distance he's taken. True, Arya has terrible aim, but that can sometimes be more dangerous than a professional, and the last thing he needs now is a bullet wound. As it is if he doesn't get dry soon he'll catch his death.

If he's lucky, Tom actually will.

"Don't let me find you again, Cassidy. Using a child as a shield won't work a second time."

[pimpcanes]

"Arya understands the purpose of an Arena, Heinrich. Don't you, lass?" Tom drags himself from the water, shivering slightly, soaked, miserable but looking angry rather than sorrowful for it. He takes a few steps until he's at Arya's side.

"Next time I won't let you be so lucky as to use ice to your advantage." He places a waxy hand on Arya's shoulder. "Thank you for the assistance, dear. Let's be gone now."

[needlebearer]

It's not until Tom's back at her side that she lowers the gun, still gripping it tightly but taking her finger from the trigger. While she's no stranger to killing, she's always had to strike opportunistically rather than engaging in that sort of stand off, and now that she's out of the situation she feels her heart pounding and her hands shaking, and she's unsure whether she'd have got a decent shot if she'd had to shoot to kill. It annoys her more than anything else - she resolves to practice with the gun as much as she can so that the strangeness of the weapon isn't an added factor there too.

"What did he mean?"

[pimpcanes]

"In a prior Arena, I set fire to a food court - a gathering area for people to eat." He figures that much is explanatory, but it doesn't hurt to clarify things for Arya, so he can detail the picture before others get the chance to add to it. "There were some wee ones there, unbeknownst to me, and his lot has seen fit to label me a hunter of children ever since."

He lets her keep the gun, knowing she won't use it on him but that she may benefit from feeling a bit safer in the face of uncertainty, of her image of him being distorted by new information.

[needlebearer]

On the one hand Arya's fairly certain there's no smoke without fire, but on the other Albert probably would have said anything to get either Tom or Arya off guard. She knows that in the Arenas, realistically of course adults would have to go after children, but she can't help but think of the Hound murdering Mycah so brutally. She's not sure exactly how she feels - and she finds that hard in itself, liking to cling to clear cut explanations and emotions rather than anything she has to see multiple sides of.

"Killing children is wrong," she says, more to reaffirm it to herself than to lecture him. "But it's even more wrong for the Capitol to throw them into an Arena if they can't defend themselves."

[pimpcanes]

"Aye, I won't argue with either of those points." Although he's killed plenty of children here in the Arenas. "I try to think that it's better to kill them kindly than let the weak ones suffer, that for those of us in this situation we can only choose between wrongs rather than huddle in a righteous shelter. Do you understand?"

He's shivering, still sopping and cold, and he starts to trudge back towards their lair, shrugging off his jacket. "We best be getting back, dear."

[needlebearer]

Arya grits her teeth, thinking of all the weak and innocent she'd seen suffer and die. She had no qualms about killing, but only those she felt deserved it, though she nods reluctantly anyway. She supposes that if they were going to die anyway, she'd rather end their lives quickly herself. "I understand," she says reluctantly. "But I don't like it."

She begins to follow him back towards their encampment, brooding on everything. Enough people had warned her not to trust Tom by now that it's difficult for her to do so, though she also knew that not only was he her best chance of survival, but there was a great deal she could learn from him to become stronger. And if she achieved nothing else here, she was determined to become strong enough to kill everyone on her list singlehandedly when she returned to her own world.