Carnage in the Caves

[etcircenses]

Who| Participants in the bloodbath
What| Murder and mayhem ensue after the jabberjays chase people into the caves.
Where| Deep within the caves. This area of the caves cannot be broken into or escaped from until 24 hours have passed.
When| Over a twenty-four hour period beginning now.
Warnings/Notes| Violence, death, gore, etc. You have been assigned a target to kill, but you may run into other characters in the caves as well.

The jabber jays begin their screaming, driving you deep into the caves in an attempt to escape the cries of your loved ones being tortured, beaten, or killed. When the maddening sounds finally cease, you will find yourself trapped in a series of corridors and caves, sealed tight with no chance for escape. Luckily there are plenty of weapons and supplies at hand (machetes, axes, hunting knifes, swords, maces, spears, clubs, hammers, scythes, bows & arrows, food, water, clean clothes), but any delusions of good fortune are soon squashed when an announcer assigns each person a target and gleefully informs you that you must kill your target within 24 hours or else you will run out of oxygen and die.

Over the next 24 hours, you will be tasked with killing this person in any manner you can. You may also happen upon other unfortunate souls trapped in the caves, but be wary of befriending them down here. They're on a mission too, and there's no rules against collateral damage.  

Good luck, and don't forget to put on a show.

Comments

Zed | Open

[whydoyoushine]

"Tch. What a pain..." Zed didn't appear to be particularly upset at the idea of having to kill someone else so he didn't die. It was more a nuisance than anything else, just one more thing he had to do. How annoying. He was, however, glad for the clean clothes that were scattered around, at least insofar as he was able to throw on a couple of layers over what he was already wearing. Freezing to death would be a pain, too. The food that he found was also a plus; it's not like they'd dropped him off with anything.

There was also the matter of weapons. Zed had already secured a sword that he'd strapped to his back with a spare shirt, but something else had caught his eye. "Now that's pretty cool!" Worry? What, him? Nah, he was just going to start playing around with that scythe he found like a little kid. He'd deal with having to kill his target when the time came--for now, he'd have himself a little fun.

Re: Zed | Open

[ruffntumblenut]

Stalking through the caves like a beast Ruffnut actually found herself feeling more at home then ever. She used to love exploring the caves that ran under Berk and for a moment here she could ignore all the aches and pains in her body and just enjoy the peace and quiet of a dark cave.

Clad in a full set of cold weather clothes from her mentor and a Sabertooth cat pelt Ruffnut looked like a monster in her own right as she crept through the dark drippy wetness clutching her gun. The machete she'd chosen was on her belt but she had earned this gun in her fight with the sabertooth cats and by Odin she would use it.

Whoever she ran into would be sorry they ever messed with one half of the terrible twins of Berk.

[whydoyoushine]

Zed's got a sword he knows he'll be able to fight with belted around his waist, but he's carrying along that scythe he'd found and thought was so awesome, too. He's also comfortable in the caves, but that's less because they're caves and more because they're dark.

And he knows there are all sorts of things lurking there in the dark even in the best of circumstances. The figure that was walking there in the dark wasn't easy to make out thanks to the pelt, and so Zed calls out. "Hey! Nice look you got there." At least as nice as a shadowy figure wearing a sabertooth pelt can look, anyway. He's seen worse.

Felicity | Open

[iphigeneia]

She had scarcely recovered from the trauma of Gemma and Ann and Pippa's horrible screams when the announcement fully registered with her. She already had her bow and arrows with her from before, but the bounty of weapons was still a beacon to her in her frazzled state. As she approached the cache, she glanced cautiously over both shoulders before grabbing what she could. A knife. A hammer. More arrows. An axe. Yes. She was ready to stand and deliver, even if she loathed the idea of being forced into action. Nothing against Anna, of course.

Catch all for Albert's stuff

[silberfuchs]

I. - Sam

It's a normal day, or as normal as things can get in a death Arena, and Albert's just returned to the caves from a successful hunting trip. The animals may be getting more aggressive, but they're also getting bigger, which means full bellies for both their parties when they manage to fell something large like the sloth that they'd lugged halfway across the Arena, or at least that's what it feels like.

A brief rest at the first cave in the complex is in order, so Albert calls a stop and lets the giant hairy arm flop, the two large clawed toes clacking on the stone floor. No Tributes have taken shelter here and it's easily clear why considering the back of the cave goes into darkness but not visible end. Anything could be living back there. Still, it'll do for a brief rest before the couple miles left to their neighboring caves.

Albert sits heavily on a rock and breaks out a bottle of water, removing his hat and scarf as he's sweating from the exertion. He takes a long pull and offers the rest over to Sam. "There is no earthly way these things were ever actually on the Earth. They're just being silly now."


II. - Hawke

He'd run without stopping for what felt like an eternity until there was nowhere else to go. A dead end into a circular chamber cast in soft blue from an unseen light source shining through the thick ice on all sides. It shimmers in places, not like ice but metal, yet Albert pays it all no attention, whirling around to find the door again, find the direction of the screams.

"Jet?!" He screams himself, trying to find his partner, to stop whatever was happening to him, but instead his call has the room fall utterly silent, eerily so after the cacophony of screaming. A bird flits past his cheek from a jut of the wall behind him, letting out a jarring, human scream, and then vanishes back into the tunnel network. So he'd been tricked.

It's comforting, actually, knowing Jet may not actually be down here, screaming and dying without Albert there to stop it. But the comfort only lasts for a moment, then there's the announcement.

Congratulations! You've been chosen to hunt down and kill Marian Hawke for the benefit of fabulous prizes! But don't take too long! Once twenty-four hours are up, if you haven't achieved your goal, it's going to be you missing out on victory! Happy Hunger Games!

That explains the weapons strewn through the walls and on the floor. Explains why these tunnels had been designed in labyrinthine turns and curves. And he'd fallen for the trap. He has a sinking feeling that he may well die down here, considering his unwillingness to fight other innocents who have been pulled here. If they'd told him to kill Black Tom then maybe, or even Molotov for all she doesn't hold grudges, but someone he hasn't even met?

He takes a change of clothes which he puts on first (fresh underwear is a luxury he never knew to miss until it was unavailable), then a machete. He considers a spear but ultimately, in caves like this he guesses it will be close quarters and a spear will hinder more than help.

First thing's first, and it's not the mission to which he's been set. He has to find Sam, or other allies, and then they can find a way out.


III. - Initiate and Sam

It takes Albert a long time to collapse in an empty tunnel, out of breath and bleeding heavily from his side. He's leaving a blood trail, but that Hawke woman is wounded too even if it's far less serious. She'd take the time to bind herself off, or so he believes. Frankly, it's a wonder that Albert's not dead already but if he has to guess it's likely because of a combination of the cold, adrenaline, and sheer stubbornness. He can't die and let Jet find out about it as an impersonal portrait flashing across the sky.

But he's not certain he'll have much choice.

With a grit of teeth, Albert removes his scarf and ties it around his middle, staunching the remaining bleeding so that between the ripped edges of his parka and the scarf he won't be leaving a trail any longer. Then he forces himself to move. On your feet Heinrich, you have to get out, you have someone to get home to.

He stumbles blindly into another room, this one large and vaulting with shimmering colored ice crystals casting rainbow lights in glimmering waves. It seems so peaceful and out of place for an Arena that he's momentarily struck by it, panting softly as he holds himself up against the curve of the tunnel's mouth and oblivious to anyone else that may be in the room.

II

[hereliestheabyss]

Marian Hawke has no problem with murder.

Some people just deserve to die. Others don’t, but if their death serves a purpose, she has no qualms delivering a swift end. It’s too ingrained in her lifestyle to raise a fuss without other conditions at play, and unless her target is a small child the likelihood of said conditions raising an issue is doubtful at best.

Even so, the events that led her to the cave have left her worse for the wear. Her usual mental fortitude is rendered useless against the threat of everyone she knows being tortured and killed. The fact that this is a trap doesn’t even register. The prize… That has to be safety of her loved ones, right? And the target— It doesn’t matter if they’re responsible or a simple pawn. Someone has to pay, and it might as well be them.

Hawke loads up on supplies and takes as many knives as she’s able, adding a spear for good measure. She can wield it like a staff, after all, and it should serve her well if she needs more force than the knives can offer or a large weapon to parry blows. Magic or no magic, she is not helpless. She can fight tooth and nail if she has to. Kirkwall has taught her that.

She doesn’t know who her mark is, however, so she settles on trying to kill anyone she meets. It’s a cruel approach, one Hawke doesn’t so much as think twice about as she finds a corner she can hide behind. As soon as she hears footsteps approach she can use the labyrinth to her advantage, strike out with a knife thrown to the leg, and once they’re on the ground it should be easy to finish the job.

So that’s the first thing she does when the warning signs to announce Albert’s arrival echo throughout the narrow passage. No chance to talk, no witty one-liners, no coy smile to ease the delivery. The time for jokes has passed. She sticks to the shadows, winds around the corner low to the ground and throws a knife aimed directly at his upper thigh.

[silberfuchs]

Albert doesn't notice Hawke. It's an odd thing that he doesn't considering how careful he is normally, but between the birds and the announcement, he's too wound up to notice much of anything out of the ordinary until there's a loud clang as the knife hits his thigh and bounces away, sticking itself in the ice-covered base of a wall.

He whirls 'round left and right, searching for his assailant as he raises his machete in a defensive gesture. It doesn't take him long to spot her as he considers the trajectory of the weapon.

"I don't want a fight," he rumbles, low and tired, clearly willing to overlook her attack. "I just want to find a way out. Let me pass and I won't hurt you."

III

[carnagecarnival]

It's no wonder that he found this room and chose here to stay. The wonders lays all upon the walls and ceiling, painting colors without the sacrifice he always knew was cost on Alternia. It shimmers and shines like mass collectives of stardust, and in the moments between blinks, where his vision blurs, he can see himself among the stars, his stars, and all seems well and good and beautiful. So much so, he feels tear spill, in honor of those weeping laughsassins what wished so long for something like this.

The fact it's a cave in his clearer moments doesn't hurt either. Like going back to old roots forgotten. This is a nice place to die. He thinks it might be his favorite now.

He almost misses the sound of new arrival, in his own shallow breathing. His own back is against what bit of clear wall he could find. The indigo looks black from its thickness on his front, flowing heavy between his loose fingers, down his arm from the wound there. His leg what all he's made peg for of fallen branch and the one what's still just fine are splayed out in front. His eyes are up on the ceiling, face cast rainbow, until he turns to see his guest.

"YOU--" He wheezes, pained. "You too...?" He looks sympathetic, but he's not without a smile. Albert is a friend. Albert is a motherfucker what all will make this all the better. Most motherfucking choice will be presence of mammally motherfucking familiar.

His head rolls back, so he's looking upways again. His horns click on the stone.

He sighs. "S'BEAUTIFUL... Ain't it...?"

[silberfuchs]

"Yeah," his voice is just as pained as Initiate's as Albert lowers himself next to his friend, careful of his wound but unable to avoid stretching it with his movement. He's not totally certain his own condition is hopeless yet, especially with the cold slowing down his circulation, but by the look of things Initiate is beyond help, practically drenched in indigo, and Albert can't in good conscience leave him to die alone.

So he answers both questions with a simple 'yeah' and comes to rest beside the Troll he's come to care for and respect, reaching out for one limp hand with his own gloved digits, tinged red with his own blood. "I didn't know there would be such a place in this deathtrap."

I

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Sam stops when Albert does, dropping his own share of their catch onto the ground. He does his own scan of the cave out of habit, before unwinding his own scarf and pulling off his hat. He drapes them both over a rock, to try to dry them out as much as possible before they continue on, then turns back to Albert.

"Thanks," he mutters, chuckling a little as he takes the bottle to drink from it.

"Hey, they're saying dinosaurs had feathers now, who knows? What I wanna know is how did a big ass sloth thing end up being almost as hard to bag as a giant tiger?" It'd definitely taken longer, but since Sam hadn't come out of it needing stitches, the tiger's still ahead.

He's still listening out for anything that might be approaching, though, and he frowns a little when he thinks he picks something up. "You hear something?"

[silberfuchs]

"Feathers?" That's a new one, but with everything Albert had to catch up on after being frozen and the world continuing to spin on and generate crises for him and his family to face as he did so, he was bound to miss a few things. Dinosaurs weren't exactly on his list of major things to look into. Well, not since Doctor Ross had written Doctor Gilmore regarding a wild Deinonychus, but that had been a fake and... it's a long story even to contemplate right now.

"Honestly I think we had trouble with the sloth because-... Hm?" He interrupts himself, hearing it too. Screaming, desperation plain in the tone even with how faint the sound is from the interior of the cave. It's a long way off...

But the voice is calling desperately for Sam.

For Garrett

[shiftingurbulls]

Exploring the Arena had proven to be a horrible mistake as soon as Ellis heard that guttural...familiar scream. "NICK?!" he yelled back, just to hear another scream in return. His mind went into overdrive, he knew leaving him alone would get him hurt! El was already impulsive to a fault, now he was unstoppable in his rush. His fear was further compounded when he thought he heard, "ROCHELLE?! COACH?!" Nick said they were the only ones there, that the others were still in New Orleans- how could this BE?! "I'M COMIN' HOLD ON!" This felt too familiar for the young man, the sounds of flesh being torn, bones being broken...he could almost hear the Tank's bellowing roar or the Witch's screech.

The sounds led him into a new cave entrance, giving El some sort of solace, "They're here, they're here." He was too caught up in his perceived threats to notice the gaping maw that welcomed him had closed. He insisted on calling out those three names, echoing for a response.

[fivefingereddiscount]

[Garrett had been drawn deeper into the caves early in the day. He'd heard Erin calling him, crying...she'd sounded weak, almost like she'd lost all strength to do anything but call for help while struggling for breath. What he'd found was a sort of altar with an assortment of weapons and a disembodied voice telling him to kill Ellis. He would have ignored it, but the threat of being killed was motivation enough to do the deed. Even if it was against his own moral code, survival was key here, and killing meant survival.

And so it was that Garrett, armed with a bow, arrows, and a small knife, began searching for the kid. It was too hard, since Ellis was yelling his head off. The thief tails him from the shadows for a while, swooping from shadow to shadow, stalagmite to stalagmite, always just out of sight and away from the light. All the while, he draws steadily closer, planning his attack. It was going to be quick, and as painless as he could manage with the knife. He wanted to use the bow, but the curving nature of the cave prevents a clear shot from anything other than a close distance.

He frowns as he crouches behind a thick pillar of stone. Now or never. Get it over with, and he'd live to see another sunrise. The thief lashes out from the shadows, slashing at Ellis' heel.]

[shiftingurbulls]

[Ellis hollered as he collapsed from both pain and surprise of the attack. As soon as he was able to turn around, his eyes widened in horror and rage. Holding the knife covered in his blood was none other than the thief that jumped him earlier in the week]

YOU DOUBLE-CROSSIN' BITCH!

[If there was an announcer that told the enraged mechanic to kill Garrett, it almost would've been superfluous. El was mad enough already but kill or be killed, and used his good foot to stomp on Garrett's face.]

Arya - open & closed to Sam

[needlebearer]

Open
She'd been surprised at how well she'd weathered the Games so far. While she'd been cold, she'd borne it better than some, being from the North, where some would say they have ice flowing in their veins. She'd wanted for hunger at the beginning, but since she'd taken up with Tom and Molotov she'd been well taken care of. She'd killed, and she tells herself that it was a matter of survival rather than for the sport of the Arena, as it still doesn't sit quite right with her as the latter, but it was far from clear cut.

None of that gets to her, though. Not in the way the cries of the birds circling overhead get to her. First it's Jon's voice, calling her name, and she gazes round desperately for him, in hope that she might be reunited with him and despair that he's been brought here to fight and kill and die too. Then there's Sansa, screaming the way she'd screamed the last time Arya had seen her, when she'd been stood up there with Joffrey and Cersei, while Joff called for her father's head. But it's the last of their cries that breaks her. Five, ten, then twenty jabber jays swirling above her, chanting "King in the North! All hail the King in the North!" in that same jeering tone as when Robb's mutilated body had been paraded before her.

She flees, not stopping until she's in the darkness of the caves. It's not until she's hunched over in a corner trying to block out the echoes of the cries in her her head that she realises she's crying - for the first time in as long as she can remember.

b - closed to Sam
She's finally got a sword. It's bigger and heavier than she'd like, not perfectly suited to water dancing, but still more slender and easier to wield than the swords common in Westeros, more suited to hacking than anything requiring precision and finesse. She makes her way through the caverns slowly but surely, using the shadows and the nooks and crannies to her advantage, waiting for her opponent to pass by so she can get the drop on him.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Sam's not at all surprised that this ended up being some kind of trap. A lot of them have been holing up in the caves, it was probably inevitable. Not being surprised doesn't mean he's any more willing to go along with this. If it was Rumlow or Loki he wouldn't hesitate, but he isn't going to hunt down and kill a girl he doesn't even know just because the Capitol told him to.

Right now, his priority is finding Albert and Clint, and sticking to them this time. They're not going to get separated again, not with who knows how many people hunting them. After that, they can figure out a way out of these damn tunnels that doesn't involve him killing someone. It's only been an hour or so, they've got time.

He's in clean clothes and he'd grabbed a machete, on top of the hunting knife he'd already had, moving slowly through the tunnels as he tries to hunt down his friends.

[needlebearer]

Arya proceeds slowly, her every footstep soft and deliberate, gripping the sword with one hand and trailing another along the wall of the cave, making sure that she's sticking to one route and not getting lost in the maze of caverns. A silver parachute is tied tightly around her left arm, to bandage a wound there, and it glints in the dim light. Her pack is filled with food from the mouth of the caves, and her eyes are still red from the tears that had stung her face after hearing the cries of the jabber jays.

When she sees Sam ahead of her she presses herself against the wall of the cave, concealing herself in shadow as best she can, then tiptoes toward him, hoping to catch him off guard. She knows her chances against a full grown man would be very limited otherwise.

Haruto Soma | Open

[wizardplease]

He'd fallen for a pleading, tormented voice once and paid the price for it. This time, even if it wasn't just Koyomi asking to be saved but everyone he'd come to care for, Haruto was determined not to give into it. Even after the birds with Rinko's and Shunpei's voices gave way to those of his parents. It was horrible, but he was resolved to wait it out and show that it wasn't going to be enough to make him break like last time.

Only he started to realize, from his semi-comfortable camp close to the entrance of the caves, that the foot traffic there was much heavier than before. And the birds with voices were calling out with more than just ones that would get to him. There was something suspicious happening here. Something no doubt dangerous for all these people getting chased in and down into the dark. And so, motivated by equal parts curiosity and misguided heroism, he descended into the cave, too. And this is how he found himself with a nice new sword, a change of underwear, and a cheerful command to track down and kill Thor.

Thor, of all people.

On the whole, this was something that he really did not want to do. Mostly the killing part... but wasn't Thor also back from the dead and in some sort of fight-crazy state? But just wishing something like that wasn't going to get him anywhere. And, if he chose to look on the positive side as he crept through the dark caves, his rifle at the ready, at least no one else would have to face the guy. No one young, or inexperienced, or unsuited to fighting.

He's pretty keyed up, though. If something startles him, there is a very good chance that he's going to fire a shot at them first.

[worldsaway]

Unlike many of the entrants, Thor hadn't approached the cave out of a desire to seek out any distressed voices. He'd observed from a distance, watched an increasing amount of people enter and followed along with the intent to nip some kills in the bud. The way the Arena drags makes his skin crawls, it makes him feel idle and guilty and restless. He needs to fight to prove that he doesn't need to be reconditioned again, he needs to redeem himself in the eyes of the Capitol. The benevolent Capitol that saved him while his friends and allies scattered uselessly in the wake of his dire misdeed.

Thor doesn't care much for the layout of the competition, but he gratefully takes a spear anyway while the hammer goes neglected. The hammer is dismissed without a glance because the spear feels right in his hand. It's an appropriate tool for hunting, even if he has no idea who Haruto actually is.

For a big guy, he can walk with amazing stealth, but it's coincidence when he rounds a corner to face Haruto. His face lacks all the usual mirth and pride of Thor, he looks cold and determined when he sizes up the man in front of him.

"Who are you?" He asks suddenly, his tone more demanding than curious.

Jason Todd; for Elsa and open!

[hashtagyolt]

By and large, Jason considers himself pretty damn good at compartmentalization. It comes along with the notion (he'll hedge on the issue of belief, thank you very much) moksha, and definitely comes along with having lived and died and lived again (his own personal and highly undesirable samsara). So, when the birds start calling out to him using the voices of Roy, Koriand'r, Essence, and Ducra, he's annoyed more than disturbed. Or, more accurately, he's disturbed, but in a certain detached, compartmentalized way. He knows, generally, that Koriand'r isn't around, that Ducra is beyond dead, and that Essence and Roy (and Koriand'r, just for the sake of clarity) can defend themselves perfectly well, even if they somehow got dragged into an Arena.

Roy isn't as dumb as he looks, Essence has his same training, more or less, even without her abilities, Koriand'r is Koriand'r and never actually ceases to amaze him. They'd be fine. Fine.

Which is way easier to intellectualize than it is to like, actually force himself to believe.

It takes fifteen minutes (give or take) for the birds to get to him. He tries to catch one, but fails. Still, there's an absolutely overwhelming desire to rip every feather off its wings in impotent retaliation. Jason isn't a Buddhist, but there's something, he thinks, to at least one of those Four Noble Truths. The root of all suffering really is attachment. This is doubly true of other people's suffering.

The caves are probably foreboding for someone who didn't spend the best parts of their adolescence hanging around a dude who modeled himself after bats (not to mention the ninja cult). For Jason, they're mildly comforting. He can't really decide if that comfort intensifies or lessens based on the number of weapons he spots strewn periodically around.

"Hey— You Elsa?" He asks, not bothering to hide his impatience. It only takes death by suffocation once for him to know he isn't super keen on experiencing it again. It's sort of like death by smoke inhalation. Only different and equally fucked up. Ether way, he could not. He'd prefer to not.

for Rick and eventually Clint

[shenunigans]

At this rate, Dave should know better than to follow ominous birds and harrowing sounds. The fact that it could be a trick occurs to him somewhere in the back of his mind, but apprehension is outweighed by hefty amounts of experience with the Capitol. The screams he's hearing are from people who haven't even made it here, but it wouldn't be the first time they've pulled in a victim to dance around the ring for them.

Typically, Dave doesn't make it far into his quest for discovery before he's treading on ice and not rock and losing his footing. It's a tumble into the cave that leads him to Cornucopia 2 Electric Boogaloo, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's fucked up here. He brushes himself off and makes for a sword, taking it in his hand as the exits are sealed off and cocking his head to the side when the announcements are made.

His first instinct is to get the fuck away from populated areas, so he delves into the cave quickly. Who the fuck is Rick, though? He's pretty sure Clint is an Avenger, but he's never met or heard of the other guy. He's in no particular rush to kill either of them, but as the hours crawl on he begins to grow more and more paranoid. Every footstep could be this Rick guy trying to take him out. Clint is a wildcard, he could be in it to win it too.

He doesn't blame either of the hypothetical enemies he's created, really. He's starting to want to get out of here himself. His heart is racing and his grip on his sword is tight, he's rounding corners carefully but his thoughts are so loud he can hardly hear anything but himself.

[rictator]

Regardless of its impermanence, the wound left by Daryl's death was fresh and already festering. So long as Beth was there, breathing, Rick had a purpose - He had no intentions of abandoning her. It was for that reason he'd withdrawn, pulling away as he struggled to contain his own hurt; even back home, he'd developed an unhealthy habit of boxing away his more turbulent emotions, postponing grief until he was better equipped to handle it... Laughable as the notion was, that they'd ever see a break in the hell they faced. Too often it felt like they were jumping from the frying pan into the fire, his mourning put on an indefinite hold.

Even knowing they'd be reunited in the Capitol, the loss had affected them both. They'd already lost too many, and for Daryl to die after everything... It wasn't the first time they'd had to put down one of their own, but this time had cut particularly deep. Rick couldn't help but wonder if he was finally brushing up against his limits, realizing the edges of his own humanity; he'd watched one of those closest to him die twice now, knowing he was doomed to repeat it over and over for the foreseeable future. A part of him knew it was only a matter of time before he collapsed in on himself again, dependent on which of them they'd be burying next.

That was why, even had he been in a better state of mind, Rick would always have proved himself easy prey to the Jabberjays.

They played him like a goddamned fiddle, their false cries striking on too familiar chords; he'd been down this particular path once before, following the whispers of the dead, chasing ghosts. The mimicked sob of his wife had been enough to rattle already cracked foundations, while Shane's choked shout tugged at the thread that threatened to unravel him. He knew in his heart they were dead. They were dead, gone, and this wasn't real; they couldn't have been there.

His son, on the other hand, could have been.

Something snapped within him then, breaking down logical thought and crushing every self-preservatory urge into little more than background noise.

Carl.

It was only when he'd heard his son's voice among the horrific chorus that he'd broken out into a run, ignoring the way the breath felt as though it had been forced from his lungs. The birds were thick overhead then, wheeling and darting past, almost seeming to usher him back towards the gaping mouth of the cave as they flew. They'd bedded down there for weeks without any sign of him - but he'd arrived late in the last arena, so it wasn't impossible. The voices didn't seem to come from any real direction, reverberating off the trees as though coming from the birds themselves - but it was him. The screams were too real, too pained to be anything or anyone else.

He needed it to be him. He needed to know that this wasn't just him falling apart again, buckling under the weight of his own loss. He would find him, he would be in time, and he would save him. He couldn't bury his son, he would find him, he couldn't bury anyone else that he-

Rick was already too deep in the tunnels before he was aware the voices had faded, Carl's cries echoing in his mind long after the true sound had stopped. The announcer's voice was meaningless, his words didn't matter, just as their newest game didn't. None of it did so long as there was even the glimmer of a chance that Carl was lost down there, Rick already too far gone to care how little sense he was making.

He needed to protect his family. That was what mattered.

Dave and Clint were the furthest thing from his mind when he pulled one of the axes down from the wall, his shoulders tense and ready for attack as he headed back down the maze of tunnels. If Carl was there, he would find him - God help anyone who tried to stand in the way of that.

For Zombie-Rick and Julian!

[carnagecarnival]

The Psiioniic has been dead. His face was blazed over the sky and the Initiate had turned from it, bitter. It had been just he and Sam, and his patience had gone well and dry for sitting still. He'd found branch and cracked it, spending what time follow with crafting himself as good a peg he could manage to settle on his stump leg. He'd get slivers and all manner of hoofbeastshit, but it would beat getting bored. He'd wrapped it tight around as secure as he could make it.

Then, with muttered apology to a Sam what was already out for the hunt, he started off. He'd abandoned his spear by the shore. Maybe he could still grab it. Come back with a whole ton of fish, and some for Clementine too. He'd not feel so damned useless. He watches the water close, this time certain he won't be fooled. He knows its not Da, just some beast. Why would it have been Da?

Perhaps the same reason this could be Gamzee. The wails sound out in terrible howls, be he knows them, he knows his own voice, he knows his goddamn descendant.

"GAMZEE! Gamzee..."

It's not just him... There's Terezi. Signless. Mituna... His Mituna

"NO!" He shouts. "No, no! STOP IT!" His screams are swallowed by the sky, but he knows Capitol is listening, he fucking knows they know what they're doing.

They win. He heads on deep into the caverns, half-knowing what's sure to happen, but no more able to stop than Sam and the Psiioniic had when they heard him. He's not even surprised when the Caves seal off. Not even when they ask him to cull, and a the sinking feeling grows within him. He can't cull. He can't cull, they made sure he can't cull. So he has to die. With a furious cry, he smashes a fist against the cave wall, then starts off for his doom.

He keeps his teeth bared and his claws spread. At the very least, he's gotta go down with fight in him. His friends wouldn't forgive him otherwise.

"COME OUT, JULIAN!" He snarls into the caves. His voice echos. This might be a long day.

[atethecanary]

Julian doesn’t stop even stop to consider that the birds may be a trick, only considers them as yet another thing the Capitol has sent to torture them. The moment they start to scream, echoing familiar voices, all Julian can think about is how he wants to get away from them. There’s only two dying voices that Julian recognizes from back home. It would only take two people for Julian to have nothing to go back to, and even if he knows it’s not real, that it can’t be, the more he hears the jabberjays the more it feels like it is. The more it feels like the only two people who actually cared about him are going to be taken away. And it’s that fear that gets Julian running, willing to go anywhere to escape it, and he goes exactly where the jabberjays herd him to.

It’s not until he gets deeper into the caves and he can think more clearly that he realizes there has to be something more to this, and it’s then that the Caves shut off, an announcement that he’s been assigned someone to kill. Kill or die. Julian’s not liking his choices here, and he wishes, a new sort of fear settling in his gut, that he had braved the birds instead. It’s not like Julian even knows how to kill someone. He doesn’t even know how to do his own laundry, how is he supposed to kill someone? He desperately tries to remember everything that Sam taught him about self defense, picks up the first two weapons he finds, and wanders around the cave with a machete in one hand and an axe in the other.

Julian doesn’t even know who he’s supposed to be looking out for, has no idea who Initiate even is, but pretty soon he hears his name being called out. The way it’s snarled out isn’t exactly reassuring, but after a moment of deliberation Julian hesitantly follows it until he’s close enough to see Initiate. And of course this is who the gamemakers decided to assign him to, someone with teeth and claws who looks to Julian like he could take him out with one hit. Julian curses under his breath, and instinctively jerks his weapons in front of him like some sort of makeshift shield. The only comfort Julian has is the peg he sees, but even that’s not much.

“You’re Initiate?” It’s more of a rhetorical question. As much as Julian wishes this was some sort of mistake, that there’s maybe another Julian he doesn’t know about, it seems highly unlikely. Julian shuffles a little bit back and then takes a few steps forward, unsure of what to do. Killing someone, even attempting to, is one of the last things Julian wants to do and the idea of it already leaves him feeling sick, but if it’s that or die it may be the only option.

Sorry I'm late!

[rictator]

In the end, it had been the yelling that attracted him. The sound had called him from the shadows like a dog heeding its master's call.

Conscious thought had died along with Rick himself. When he'd come back, it had been only the most base, primal urge that stuck with him; it was that deep-seated needthat drove his corpse back to its feet, breathing unnatural life back into stiff limbs. Morality, self-preservation, love, anger... None of it mattered anymore.

He just needed to eat.

It was the only thing his blank, inhuman mind was capable of processing anymore. He no longer noticed the seeping, ragged wound that had finished him off, pain having gone along with other useless feelings.

Until he'd heard the first of the Initiate's screaming, he'd been aimlessly wandering the maze of tunnels, flesh greyed and gait clumsy. There was nothing stealthy about his approach, his growl echoing off the cavern walls as he drew nearer, hunger building as he caught the scent of living flesh.