thearena | [open] Wood and stone will fall away

Entry tags:

[open] Wood and stone will fall away

Who| Phil Gray and open!
What| Week 2 Catchall with various prompts
Where| Everywhere except the Castle (ha ha no)
When| During Week 2
Warnings/Notes| None at the moment!

A. The Village

Getting Linden's parachute was a godsend, as Phillip unwrapped the package and read the note. He chuckled a little at the "noble angle" snipe, it sure didn't feel like that. That would imply that Gray had done more to prevent the murders instead of just covering them up. Well, better late than never, the former guard sighed out and stuffed what he could into his makeshift bag. He'd seen the mess that comes from getting too close to powered Tributes, a legitimate threat this time around, and he had turned into old instincts to keep off the beaten path. Survived this long to get blasted? No thanks.

But none of that, nor the temporary beauty that came with every sunset gave the Phone Guy any comfort that this was anything but the death match he knew and resigned himself to. Nowhere was this more evident in the way tried to sneak into the Village. He'd heard inklings about ghosts roaming the Castle and catacombs at night...and just maybe...

"No, I won't find them here," Phil assured himself as he made a quick lasso for any emergencies. Who "they" were was known to a select few but for being merely memories, they sure weighed a lot in his mind.

Focus on finding Clementine and Sandy, make sure they're safe, figure out the rest later. Raiding caches was distasteful, yes, but if the Capitol wants to see how far Phillip Gray could go to meet those goals, then he'll do his best to give them a show.

B. The Village Part Deux For Firo

If Gray was good at something, it was keeping a level head through stressful situations, and raiding had to be listed as one of those sorts. But keeping the rats at bay just reminded him of the dumpsters out back from Freddy's. The stink was just as bad anyways but not too unfamiliar. Either way, there was food here and nothing a little brush of the hand couldn't fix so he could store it away. By now though, Phil had no issue with keeping the small folding knife somewhere close, ready to defend himself.

Prochainezo said he was going to help me, he thought as he bit into a piece of the rations he had for himself. The other? Stored away for any young or hungry Tribute he ran into that wouldn't try to kill him. What? It might be his second Arena but he's not about to give up being who he is for the bloodshed.

Even if it kills him.

"Firo?" Phil peeked into an adjacent building, hoping Firo wasn't playing him after all this time.

C. Wild Card! Pick whatever you'd like to do!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Erm, not quite," Phil began as he too grabbed one of the small sacks made from cloth and took out his knife, "More like a morgue and a prison, all rolled into one." Clearly a cheery place to find Tributes hiding.

He does steel up at Firo's understandable disgust towards Avoxes being used as fodder for the kills, "You've heard the Capitolites, Avoxes aren't people anymore. They're property and they can be used as they deem fit. But this is pushing it."

He frowns, shoulders slumping a bit in dismay. "A prison? Great. Sounds like fun." Between Alcatraz and the Capitol, he's sick to death of prisons.

He hefts the bag over his shoulder and is quiet for a moment before he responds. "...I'll agree that it's pushin' it."

As valuable as putting forward a good image is, he just can't agree taht a person is every property. It's too much of a sore subject, especially with all Ennis went through.

He starts for the exit, looking back at Phil to see if he's moving too.

As soon as his bag's packed, Phil joins up with his friend, knife on hand for any issues that may arise, "Are you telling me you haven't been to jail?" And there is that sarcasm the man's becoming accostumed, sorry Firo. "Heaven forbid."

The closer they left the relative safety of the village to the imposing fortress that was the castle, the more unnerved Gray felt. They weren't going into it per se but there was something he neglected to tell the mobster, "Tell me, Firo, how comfortable are you at being around corpses?"

Even if they were just there for show, somehow the Phone Guy knew they were probably real bodies. Decomposing.

Even Firo has to laugh at that, the corner of his mouth rising in amusement. "You can rest easy. I was in prison right when I got dragged into all of this." Which is why he's not so excited to go to a place that's like a prison.

Firo takes a brief moment to bemoan the fact that his life has taken such a turn that Phil's question is necessary. "They're not my favorite people to hang out with, but I can deal." Corpses are an occupational hazard. "How about you, huh?"

He doesn't know too many people outside of his line of work who are comfortable with corpses, but Phil seems like he was up to some... interesting stuff back home.

"Granted, we're just going in, drop off and get the hell outta dodge," Phone Guy kept his pace as best as he could, and peeked around the corners. Well, unless there were invisible Tributes, coast was clear from their spot to the castle. To answer Firo's question, Phil spoke in the most deadpan tone he could muster, "When your job includes escorting them out in steel drums or black garbage bags, I think I can handle a few mummies. Clean-up was always the worst."

Somewhere in his mind, he knows that he shouldn't know at least five ways to get rid of bodies, that it makes him a bad person. But it was either that or risk losing those ghostly kids and setting them loose in the world along with the serial killer.

"Sounds easy when you put it like that." He frowned. It was never easy, was it?

Though he thought it might be something of a sore spot for Gray, he smirked. "You're a funny guy. If you'd asked me back when we first met, I never woulda' thought you were involved in stuff like that. And that you'd talk about it so calmly."

But there they were, talking about their experience with corpses like it was totally normal.

"Anyone can make anything sound easy, give yourself some credit, okay?"

Firo's remark made Phil sigh out for a bit, "I'm full of surprises, I suppose. It's more of a survival mechanism than actually being comfortable with it. I did what I did to ensure my goals, even if everyone thought I was a killer in some way. I just cleaned after the messes they left."

He couldn't do that, he couldn't take that last step. Linden assured him that killing wasn't always necessary but the fear was there.

Firo smirked and added, just to be difficult, "You make that sound easy too."

Firo had been scanning the horizon for danger as they moved, but that remark prompted him to stare at Phil. Even if he saw the man holding a corpse in his hand... he would have a hard time believing him as a killer. "Shit, seriously? What kinda idiots are they?"

"Wouldn't it've been nicer just to leave the evidence there and let the killer fry for it? The real killer, I mean."

"He disappeared after the last set of victims...I don't know what happened after that," Phil scratched his head, "We were left with the mess and no way to find them or stop the clusterf-" he stopped himself, "The events that happened afterwards. An innocent man was convicted for everything so let me add perjury to the list of crap I have to face when I go home."

Gray never knew what really happened to the killer, so he carried on with that weight. "But to answer your question, huge idiots."

Firo clucked his tongue and shook his head to hear about the murderer getting away.

"Lyin' about that's pretty shitty, but perjury's barely a crime."

At least with the people Firo ran with. He didn't stop to reflect that his view on crimes was probably hardly comforting.

Even as he dismissed the thought of lying in court, though, condemning someone who'd done nothing still didn't sit quite right. He shifted the sack he carried. "What happened to your scapegoat, huh?"

"Life in prison. He barely escaped the death penalty because my state didn't practice it and none of the victims were from out of state. Poor bastard's got a lot of appeals to go through and I'm sure the company will fold paying for his damages." There's bitterness in Phil's voice as he refers to his old coworkers like this, like accomplices to a crime that their boss imposed just to protect the corporate image.

Firo shakes his head slightly, "Not in for a treat either way." He'd still take prison over death, having been through both. But he can't deny that they also both kind of suck--and he imagines it's even worse for a guy who's known as a child murderer.

He paused, realizing he was prying an awful lot. Even though it was none of his business, there were some things he really wanted to know. "He volunteer to be your fall guy?"

And Firo would get a shake of the head, "Guy who was a witness, had a record, boss planted some evidence and had him take the fall. Police were all too eager to get someone arrested and, well past offenders don't have the best track record."

Old wounds were bleeding and for everyone in the Capitol to enjoy and gossip, but they could all see how much it weighed on Phillip to know all this and be in so deep that he had to play along, hope for the best and survive. And he did his damnedest to keep a respectful and dare he say it optimistic outlook about it.

"I'm here now...all I can do is make up for it, survive as long as I can a-and...make sure the kids here all survive."

Firo snorted. "Don't need to tell me that." On past offenders being treated more harshly, he meant. Firo supposed he couldn't complain when he tended to do so well, but police attention could just get so damn annoying sometimes.

Cry me a river, Firo.

Reflecting on all Phil had just said, Firo supposed he couldn't judge when his own Family had done similar things. By way of apology, he nodded again and said, "Yeah. Sorry, didn't mean to ask so many questions."

"It's good they've got someone lookin' out for them. The kids, I mean. This Arena stuff... It kinda reminds me of things back home and nobody would look after them there."

Phillip knew there wasn't any ill intent in Firo's questions but bringing back old memories have the effect of letting everything he buried and wearing it as a second, unwanted skin. There was nothing like it, guilt that never really let go, never letting the Phone Guy live a normal life, "It's o-okay, you wanted the truth."

But Gray needed a moment to recover, his tension had to dissipate slowly, and he didn't want to snap at his friend. Or anyone. No one here was guilty of what happened at Freddy's...except him.

He smiled at Phil's assurance. "Can't blame a guy for bein' curious, right? ...Uh, but you can tell me if you ever don't wanna talk about something. I can be good at keepin' my mouth shut. It's a job requirement."

He looked from Phil to the walls looming before them, trying to find an entrance creepy-looking enough to be the entrance to the catacombs.

Gray shook his head and let his friend speak, "No need for that sorta formality in that aspect. No more secrets all right?"

Before he spoke up, they found themselves in a structure Phillip had been spying. An imposing, unnerving entrance, to which he quipped, "If that's not the entrance to the catacombs, I'm a monkey's uncle."

Firo nodded. "No secrets."

Though he hadn't expected to be unnerved at the mere sight of the door, Firo found his heart rate quickening. "Excitin'. Can't wait to see what the rest of it looks like."

He smiled jokingly as he looked over his shoulder. "If I scream, that's your cue to turn tail and run, okay?"

With that, he stepped forward to the entrance and slipped in.

"Don't think I won't..." Phillip agreed, no way was he dealing with ghosts again and not do what he should've done five years ago. From the getgo, Gray had a chill running down his spine, damp walls that smelled of putrefaction. But regardless of those very sane fears, the hall presented no dangers as of yet.

Keeping his knife out, he trailed behind his friend until the outside light faded away and only Firo's beacon lit the hall, if faintly. Phil wanted to ask what was Firo's power, but that would be rude. A noise got him out of those thoughts, "There's something in here."

At least the beacon was good for something.

"Oh, good. Maybe it's a nice person who'll show us a safe place to hide all this."

His sarcasm was thick enough to choke on. He backed up to be closer to Phil, ready to try to shield him if anything attacked.

Phillip was delighted to see some of his lessons stick with the mobster but even less so with the body language. The slow descent may have made him jumpier than what Firo's used to but this? This was him on a good night back at work.

Except the slipping on the landing, that was not part of his usual thing, okay?

"Shit, ow," Gray hissed under his breath and heard the clatter of his knife on the floor, "Really?" The clicking noise of metal against rock stopped just beyond the reach of the light. The level of trust the Phone Guy had on Firo was enough for him to ask, "Can you go look for that while I set this up?"

And hell, he turned his back to the competition looking for his weapon while he set up the cache.

Firo jumped when Phil fell, half expecting it to be the sign of a sudden attack or something.

He shook his head when he realized the cause, trying to disguise that he was startled by pretending to be irritated. "You drop your weapon at a time like this?"

Nonetheless, Firo nodded his head and quickly went to hunt for the knife. He slowly felt along the floor, pausing only to call back to Phil. "You really trust me this much, huh? Or do you have another knife hidden on you?"

He laughed, honestly seeing all that as a joke even though it was obviously in pretty poor taste.

"Yes I trust you that damn much," Gray growled under his breath as he got back on his feet and slipped the small bag into a nearby helmet, to keep it away from any vermin's reach, "And even if I did, I don't doubt for a second you'd kill me on the spot." And that was the Phone Guy's best and worst trait: once he trusted you, his loyalty was unyielding. It was this trust that let the serial killer run around free while his love for the animatronics and the company covered the damages.

But something about this place reminded Phil of the backroom at Freddy's, prompting him to peek around. "When I said death dungeon...I was kidding." He'd have to add torture dungeon too, with the various devices. "W-We, uh, we should go."

Firo was almost glad they could hardly see each other in the darkness, because that made him pause. "...Thank you."

Phil was a funny guy, it struck him. Not too many people figured out Firo was a gangster as quickly as Phil had, and not too many people would trust someone like him so readily.

"I'm guessin' there are tons of people who've already lectured you about trusting people? But you don't have to worry about me, I'll swear to that."

"Just a minute... Got it!" He held the knife triumphantly aloft, only the beacon above him making it visible through the gloom.

"Oh, yeah at least a baker's dozen, but unlike the last person I trusted with a pointy object, I know I won't regret it and it won't get another kid killed," Phil's bluntness served a purpose; he was letting Firo know that he was on a level above the serial killer, that he was different. "And likewise."

Carefully, he raised his hand up to the knife and gently tugged it back into his belt. "Thanks, I can be a klutz on the worst of places. We good on headed out?"

[open] Wood and stone will fall away

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