[closed] Broken Down, Broken Down

[voiceinthephone]

Who| Phillip Gray and Wednesday Addams
What| PG trusts the wrong kid, pays dearly for it
Where| Village Outskirts
When| Tuesday, Last week of the Arena
Warnings/Notes| Character Death, whee!

With the galloping terrors and the Arena’s ghosts going on, there was only one conclusion Phillip could make as he tried his damnedest not to get swept up in the commotion: it was drawing to a close. The celebration he could have made, that he was part of the last round of Tributes to survive this long was cut short with the sounds of hell raging outside. He couldn’t stay put, as memories of 6 am, the blessed hour of a completed shift came to mind. Just because the bots couldn’t be caught outside of their positions, didn’t mean the Phone Guy had been home safe: he had to make it to the exit. This was no different.

This was the chance he’d have and try his luck at tricking the remaining Tributes into dying by the hazards, or…or the inevitable confrontation would have to take place. Aim for the thigh, aim for the throat and pull out, Gray repeated over and over in his mind…right up until he saw the silhouette of a girl in the village.

Phil’s eyes widened at the sight and his brain switched from survival to his promise he made to not just Linden back at the Capitol, but to every victim the Serial Killer at Freddy's claimed, whoever directly or by proxy. Without giving the Victory Crown a second thought, he abandoned his plans and immediately sprinted towards the girl. “Hey! Hey, get out of there!” he called out as soon as he was within ear shot. Chances were, the Phone Guy just made a poor life choice.

Comments

[homicidium]

Wednesday occasionally enjoys staring into nothingness and contemplating the bleakness of life, but on this particular occasion, there's more of a plan to it. She's long since shed her wings, but she still wears the haunting plague mask and holds her pitchfork, so she makes for a menacing image when she turns around to face the man running toward her.

She says nothing.

He's running too quickly to see the rope stretched out close to the ground, taut between two poles. One flies a ragged flag, and the other holds a swaying noose, swinging in the breeze. She watches patiently, never moves.

Hopefully he doesn't hit his head too hard on the rocky ground.

[voiceinthephone]

There was no denying the imposing way the girl's presence loomed over the forest, in a way that would strike fear into anyone not already on a single-minded quest. It should have deterred Gray but in his mind, his safety was far below hers. It was almost like a death wish.

No one can see Phillip was a terribly attentive guy when it came to his survival. When the Tribute inevitably trips over the rope, he scrapped his head along the floor, causing plenty of wounds that risked infection, but worse, he doesn't move. It was like hitting a rock-climbing wall at full speed, he's not getting up too easily.

[homicidium]

When he falls, Wednesday heads for him, a steady, confident walk. She has a bit more rope, this piece ragged and old, compared to the rope that had been sent to her in the presents from the sky, from JC4.

The man is still on the ground. She crouches and ties his ankles together, then begins to lug him toward the second pole, the stairs that lead up to the platform. He's heavy, but she makes fair progress, jerking him along the ground roughly, occasionally grunting with effort.

[voiceinthephone]

Along the way, it seems that his folding knife has skated along the ground, leaving Phillip effectively defenseless in an assault or anything the Arena or the Tributes might bring along the way. The only sounds out of him are the shallow breathes his body does by virtue of still being alive. Though he is unconscious for now, as soon as he comes back, the Phone Guy will discover that, while he can keep his promise to protect the younger tributes, there is room for one exception. And that exception was carrying him up to his rather abrupt demise.

[homicidium]

Unconscious is good, but it doesn't mean that he weighs any less. Wednesday drags him up the stairs, banging his head around more than she actually means to, which is something she would apologize for in reality. She doesn't mean to give him a concussion, only to snap his neck.

She gets him to the top and has to take a few minutes of a break, sliding her mask up to rest on her head as she wipes away sweat. She sits next to his limp body while she catches her breath, looking to see if he has anything obvious on him that's worth taking.

Once recovered, she goes and fetches the rope, lowers down the actual noose to be able to place it around his neck. Wednesday rolls him to the trapdoor in the gallows (she's very glad for the Capitol's anachronistic use of a standard drop platform), then uses the rope to pull him up into a standing position.

She salutes his dangling body, pulls her mask back down, and cries, "O Games, what crimes are committed in thy name!", then pulls the lever. Madam Roland was beheaded, but this stranger's death is more entertaining anyway, how he falls through the hatch, how the rope snaps tight with his weight.

Wednesday doesn't check to see if his neck broke, or if he's slowly asphyxiating. She's tired and it doesn't really matter anyway, does it? Instead, she sits against the pole and watches the rope swing.