thearena | Carnage in the Caves

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Carnage in the Caves

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.

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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...?"

"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."

"S' A MIRACLE," He says. "'S h-how they... work... NO MATTER... WHERE YOU IS... they's being there, unexpected..." The Capitol was beautiful, the arenas held their beauty. Even alternia had been a glory to behold in that sense alone.

If he weren't in a lot of pain, he thinks he'd actually be pretty comfortable as like this. He lifts that hand as best he can to take Albert's, red and indigo mingling beautiful. The brightest and darkest.

He croaks, "ME-- gh-- Meet me... BACK IN--Nh-- CAPITOL... yeah? YOU'LL PLAY YOUR SONGS...?" That'd be nice...

"I'll play anything you-" He coughs, a deep hacking cough that makes him taste blood. Shit. "Anything you want."

Fingers twine, Albert's grip lax in his condition but still made to connect, made to keep them both from feeling alone in whatever final moments they have. "Or we could get out the colored chalk and paint the training center with it. Or our new apartment. Did you know, Jet and I were-" Another cough. He lets it pass, swallowing painfully in its wake. "Were given a private place?"

It's implied that maybe if he and Terezi... well. There's a reason he doesn't say it outright, not sure if Trolls cohabit like that, but still.

He winces when Albert coughs. At least they'd not be alone. That was one thing. But he's pretty sure he's not going to outlast Albert here even still. Already he feels death's creeping, a familiar friend up at this point. His breaths come fewer and further between.

He smiles, pained, but even still. Painting sounded good. Terezi would like that. It'd be beautiful. She'd be so happy as to see it.

"PRIVATE? That's great, brother. MIRACLES," He replies weakly. "Maybe I..." He's slipping. There's still a wonder, even as he fights to keep it out, the off chance that he doesn't come back this time. Maybe waiting wasn't the ideal. Fuck it.

"ALBERT...?" He tests first. "M'names Kurloz. MAKARA. You're one of my... my best friends here." All getting emotional again is he. Rainbows and this. The indigo runs down his face, clearer than blood. "WANT YOU TO KNOW IT. Giving hatchname is gift... to them closest, so... THAT'S BEING IT." He swallows and it aches.

"How bout we decide when at we get there? MAYBE EVEN DOING BOTH ON GOOD." Yeah... "...Thanks, for sticking by a brother."

"Kurloz..." He rolls it around in his mouth almost reverently. He'd spent so long hiding his own name from everyone before Site B that he knows exactly how much this means. He almost wishes he still had so he could offer something of equal measure to his friend in turn. "I'll use it, if you want, or keep it for you."

He breathes out slowly, maybe a little easier for the coughing before but it still crackles in his chest as he exhales. Liquid in the lungs. Only a little now, but its a sign that he's running out of time. "I was 004 some time ago. Only family knew my name. It hardly makes it even."

He rests the side of his head against Kurloz's temple, a comforting gesture for both their sakes. It doesn't matter how many times you face a thing like that, it's always frightening. Terrifying, really. "You should know, since we're brothers."

And he means it. Not just brothers in arms, but family. Close family to watch for each other and do for each other. He won't be leaving, and he wouldn't be even if he weren't dying as well. He's stay with Kurloz here until the end because that's what family does. Woe be unto the Capitol who forged these ties, as they will be their undoing.

Of course that part he doesn't share aloud.

"We could paint the while tower." He smiles and swallows, fighting back another cough, squeezing Kurloz' hand in response to his thanks.

It brings a shiver and a smile both, hearing his own name. At one point, there'd only be one motherfucker in the whole damn world what knew it. Now, if he just asks, just tells, he can hear it.

Brother. Family. It's nice, that little reminder of what all he's doing this-- everything-- for. That little something what to hold onto. That goodness warm within. That what had been so elussive. Purpose and life and happiness.

There are so many things he wants to say. He wants to tell Albert how good it is to hear that. He wants to talk on off the colors the tower could come to be. He wants to tell Albert it's okay to use his name when it's being them two, or others what know it. He wants to say things he ain't got words for, but might be something like what Sam taught, that strange human platonic love for family.

But his thanking comes to be his last words, for when he breathes in to speak next, only quiet exhale follows. Distantly, he feels the squeeze, then his hand goes loose in Albert's. His eyes have closed.

Silence stretches between them, but it turns empty slowly as the life leaves Kurloz, Albert remaining among the sparkling crystalline ice formations and casted rainbows alone. There's no more noise here, just the sound of his own breathing in what's become his friend's tomb until they send the robots for his body.

With a small, very sad sigh Albert untangles himself from Kurloz's lifeless form, giving his hand another squeeze and a silent promise that he'll meet with him again after the Arena. "Rest well, my brother. I'll see you soon."

He starts to rise, arm clutching his injury and halted every few inches by the pain sparking through his body and forcing him to cough flecks of blood onto the smooth icy floor. He's glad Kurloz is gone for that, at least. He'd bled out, a slow and chill death but ultimately a more peaceful one than Albert knows he'll suffer drowning in his own blood as his lungs slowly fill.

Sam's moving as quickly through the tunnels as he can while still trying to be quiet. He's pretty sure he's lost Arya, but he's also pretty sure she's still going to be looking for him. He's got a few injuries from their, some that probably need medical attention, but nothing that's going to kill him. Yet. Apparently him not wanting to kill her doesn't extend the same way.

He knows that running off like this is only a temporary fix, but he's still hoping to find Albert and Clint and try to get the hell out of here.

So it's a hell of a relief when he turns the corner into an icy cave and spots one of them.

"Albert." That relief is probably obvious in his tone and expression for a brief moment, before it fades when he takes in the rest of the scene.

He comes to a dead stop, staring at Kurloz's body lying on the floor. "Tell me that ain't what I think it is."

"I stayed with him," his voice is watery and weak but he forces it steady to answer Sam, trying to suffer his own injury in silence out of respect for Kurloz's passing. The statement itself is one to assuage worry. Sam should know that Kurloz wasn't alone at the end.

"Are you alright?" He doesn't admonish him, doesn't make note about how they both went racing off in the name of people they care about. People they would die for. People Albert certainly is dying for now and if that's the spin he can put on it for himself then he feels a bit better for it.

It is a reassurance that at least Kurloz wasn’t alone in the end. Sam knows first hand the difference that having a friend there can make. But he still can’t take his eyes off of Kurloz.

“I didn’t even know he was in here.”

It’s not quite an admission of guilt, but it’s close. Sam’d left him alone when he went hunting with Albert. Even though Kurloz should have been fine, and Sam couldn’t have known that he would leave or what would happen if he did, there’s still the little voice that tells him that he shouldn’t have left him alone.

He shakes it off at Albert’s question, turning away from Kurloz’s body to zero in on Albert. “I’m fine, for now. Are you-” But he cuts off the question. Looking closely at him, he can tell that no, Albert isn’t okay. “Shit, let me get a look at you. I’ve still got my med kit stuff.”

Those fingers twitch. That body takes breath. There's a gargled clicking in his throat.

And then, the Initiate's hand goes forward, claws digging into the earth and scratching on stone, as that body seek pulling itself up. The next inhale is terrible sort of wheeze, just short of an ill keening. Blood spills on his legs, from the great gash in his chest, where the axe sunk in. For a long moment, there's just faint shuddering breaths, as what ever medical care Sam just tried to give is interrupted.

Then the peg leg scrapes along the floor, as slowly, the Initiate's body attempts to rise. His head lifts last, eyes no longer a warm honey-gold, but perfect glowing yellow. The indigo in his irises have washed out to something paler. They seem not to focus until they fall on Albert and Sam. The Initiate's head tilts at them.

Then, going back, an unearthly shriek fills the air. The daywalker lunges forward.

"It's not-" he freezes mid-refusal, much like he had when they'd heard the screaming that had lured him and Sam down into the dark. He has to focus to hear this time, listening intently, and then slowly turning his head, trying not to be ill as what used to be Kurloz Makara, their friend, Albert's family, drag itself to standing.

Albert's seen a lot of things in his time. He's seen Gods and aliens, genocide and murder most intimate, but nothing had compared yet to the sight of Kevin's razor teeth dipping into Jet's flesh at the end of the hell Arena.

But this comes close already.

It's painful to move so quickly, but Albert lunges at near the same moment as what used to be Initiate, shoving Sam out of the way and bringing his metal arm up to shield himself from gnashing teeth and clutching hands. It's too late for him now as it is, but Sam. Sam can still escape.

"RUN!"

Oh fuck this shit again.

This is the thing that had once been Luke lunging at him all over again, except this time Sam's looking at it happening to someone he cares a hell of a lot about.

If it hadn't been for Albert shoving him out of the way and trying to do face this himself, Sam might have froze for a moment. Might have hesitated when it came to defending himself against what used to be Kurloz, even clearly as this thing isn't him, even knowing what'd happened with Luke.

Even with his promise to try to take Kurloz out if he ever put his friends in danger.

But Albert is Sam's brother just as Kurloz is - was - is - and there isn't time for hesitation.

"Like hell!"

Like hell is he going to leave. Sam just takes advantage of Albert pushing him out of the thing's path to circle back around, swinging the club he'd grabbed back when he was first trapped in here at the thing's head.

The daywalker doesn't register fear like the Initiate would. The one what was made of fear has left, all what's remaining is hungry. But maybe there is just a little bit of Rage.

Teeth click and scrape on the metal, and the shrieking turns to something muffled, but doesn't at all stop. Those jaws open and close fast, like it can bite through the obstruction, like there will be blood and flesh beneath. But for all impotency there, it's claws can keep on a reach, and they try. They slash through the air, reaching to rip at flesh.

Sam's moving and it jerks back with a grunt. The snarl turns to another ear-piercing shriek, claws reaching out for Sam instead.

Until the club cracks against it's skull and another terrible crack follows with the twist of Initiate's neck. The daywalker collapses in a heap.

Albert grits his teeth and mentally asks God to save him from boneheaded heroic do-gooders. Of course, that's him too and he knows it, but it's easier to mentally fuss about that than it is to accept that he's fighting the raised body of his fried, that Kurloz had just been sitting there with him watching rainbows flickering across the ice crystals and sharing names.

This isn't Kurloz, he tells himself, this isn't Initiate, this isn't his brother, Terezi's matesprit. This is a monster, an enemy, and he has to keep its attention while Sam circles around.

Albert presses his arm into the thing's mouth, knowingly stepping in closer to those ripping claws but hoping to choke it or break some of its teeth. A claw catches his parka, shredding the front and sending lining and trails of fabric flying even as Albert fails to keep its attention and it turns to attack Sam. Only Sam is ready for it and the resounding impact rattles Albert near as much as what used to be Kurloz.

The beast goes down and Albert wastes no time, grabbing Sam's arm lest he try something else stupid and heads for the tunnels. He knows he's running on little but adrenaline and fumes at this point, but the singular thought of 'away' is what sustains him.

At least for a few yards.

By the third random turn down the tunnels, he stumbles and can't keep his feet any longer, collapsing to his knees in a coughing heap, blood from his mouth hitting the stone and ice floor and his breath bubbled and watery. Not to mention the gaping hole in his abdomen that only hasn't caused him to bleed out yet by grace of the tattered remains of his parka gumming it up.

"Are you.... hurt...?" he manages to wheeze out between lungfuls of fluid.

When the club connects, when Kurloz’s neck twists like that and he goes down, Sam flinches.

It’s not him it’s not him it’s not him.

He’s ready to go in again, give another blow to make sure the thing isn’t going to get up again, but then Albert’s hand is on his arm and he’s running and Sam sure as hell isn’t going to let Albert out of his sight again. Sam runs, turning away from Kurloz’s body to stay by Albert’s side.

When Albert stumbles, Sam’s there. He wraps an arm around Albert’s back, ready to haul him up and keep them moving, to all but carry him if he has to - until he notices the blood in Albert’s cough. Then he sinks down to his knees next to him.

Shit.

“Really, brother, you’re asking about me right now?” He shrugs out of his backpack, dropping it to the floor as he pushes gently at Albert’s shoulders, trying to get a better look at his abdomen. “Let me see, I got you.”

It doesn’t matter how bad it looks, he refuses to believe he’s too late.

"You could sti-" His breath goes out of him and he struggles to get it back in order to finish speaking. "Still survive this."

Sam may be in denial, but Albert's accepted his fate. Sam may well change his mind too once he sees the mess of Albert's stomach as he leans him back. Through the shredded, bloodstained remains of the parka, pieces of meat and stringy flesh can be seen to barely conceal the curve of intestines underneath. Muscle is raw and shines in the dim light of the cave, spasming here and there visibly as Albert is forced to settle against the wall. What he needs is a hospital, doctors, anesthesia, and surgery and even then he wouldn't be likely to survive. What can one pararescue with a med kit do?

He coughs and his torn open abdomen twitches with the action, blood flecking Albert's lower lip.

Sam goes still when he sees the full extent of Albert’s injuries. He’s seen worse; he’s even brought guys back from worse, but that was with a pararescueman’s equipment, and evacing them quickly to a hospital with a lot more high tech equipment. Stuck in the middle of a cave with no hope for any medical attention beyond what he’s got? Well, he’s worked miracles before, but this is a little more than a miracle.

His hand hovers over the mess of Albert’s stomach anyway, like he can somehow will it to heal. He can’t bring himself to voice out loud what they both know.

“My target’s a kid,” he says instead, voice quiet. He doesn’t expand on that. He figures he doesn’t have to for Albert to get what that says about his chances at surviving this.

He shifts a little so he’s sitting down on the floor as well and grabs at Albert’s hand, curling his fingers around it. “Jet get the chance to cook for you yet?”

"Th-then we're both screwed." He coughs, this time less violently, and settles with his fingers curled numbly in Sam's.

"Yes. Steak and potatoes. You taught him?" Because there's no way he could have improved that quickly without a teacher. Actually Albert was amazed he improved that quickly even with a teacher. His husband had many talents, but cooking was not one of them. In fact, his lack of culinary skills was often the butt of jokes among their family. Albert grins a little at the memory of overhearing Chang admonishing Jet's lack of interest, only to be met with the teen's declaration of cooking's not my bag, man!

"You did a good job."

Even now Sam's reluctant to admit it, but they are. The only other plan he'd had before was finding Albert and hoping that the two of them could put their heads together to figure out another way out of this, but that's... not exactly an option any more. He still won't say it outloud though. Instead, his hand grips Albert's just a little bit tighter.

"Yeah, brother, that was me. He wanted to surprise you." Sam grins back, shaking his head. "It was before last arena. Spent hours with him cooking potatoes, and then guess what shows up all over the space station? Thought about telling you then, but I didn't want to ruin it."

Edited 2015-04-14 00:13 (UTC)

"It certainly... was a surprise..." Albert's head lulls back, the cyborg having an even harder time breathing now but he tries to keep talking. This is all he has now until he wakes up again in the Capitol. He only regrets that he couldn't communicate to Jet what he set in place, that his husband, when the Arena's done and he's killed too, will wake up not in the Capitol with Albert but in the relative safety of District 13. He'd asked that other Barnes and he'd said he would do what he could but to Albert's tired mind, so weary from the Arena and addled from bloodloss, it's a certain thing.

And that's his life, isn't it? Always being left behind. Only this time it won't be as the survivor of the pair, it will be a necessary separation to keep Jet safe. That makes all the difference.

"I love him, you know." His voice is a damp whisper, interspersed with coughs as Albert's eyes drop closed and his fingers loosen then tighten again in Sam's grasp. "I'd do anything. I'm an ass, but that's true... at least..."

"I'm glad," he says, his smile holding on for a moment longer before it fades in the wake of Albert's silence.

"Of course all that's true. 'Specially the ass part." He swallows thickly, keeping his grip on Albert's hand tight. Like he can somehow anchor him there, or maybe just to give himself something to focus on so he doesn't start crying. "You're my brothers, the both of you, you know that, right? If I do manage to get out of here, I'll watch his back."

"Please, he-" he needs it is what Albert wants to say but it comes out as a painful gurgle, nothing dignified about it. He's already pushed himself to the limit and there are no more words he can force out, nothing else he can manage to say other than to choke.

He wants Sam to go, wants him to try and survive. After all, every moment he stays in one place is a moment closer to someone finding him here, helpless in grief and taking the opportunity to murder him.

But he also doesn't want to die alone, and that all too Human part of Albert wins out. He clutches Sam's hand as hard as he can, which isn't as hard as he should be capable of, and forces himself to pick his head up and look at Sam intently, trying to say with his eyes what he can't with his voice; even breathing is watery and painful, putting small flecks of blood on his lips.

Thank you, my friend, My brother.

Sam leans forward automatically, curling one hand around the back of Albert's head to help support him leaning up. One hand in Albert's and the other holding him up and he has to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment, as he tries not to see blonde or red hair tangled in his fingers instead of silver, as he tries not to let the different shapes of his grief blur together.

'Please don't leave me.'

But he can't ask him that. It's beyond either of their controls, now. All Sam can do is force himself to open his eyes, to meet Albert's gaze and remind him that he's not alone.

"I will, Albert, I will. I'd do it just for him, because he's worth it, but I might as well make the promise to you."

'I'll do better by him than I did by you and Kurloz and Nat and Riley.' Riley shouldn't be in there, he shouldn't. He should be long settled, but hearing his voice stirred everything up.

No. He can't think about that right now.

"I got you. I got both of you, man, it's okay. It's okay."

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silberfuchs - 2015-04-14 03:46 (UTC) - Expand

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sizeofyourbaggage - 2015-05-04 18:51 (UTC) - Expand

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Carnage in the Caves

III

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cw: blood/internal wounds

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cw: gore

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