Arena 15: In The Eye Of The Capitol

[etcircenses]

For the majority of you, this has become a familiar morning routine. Escorts come to pick up their Tributes and Stylists quickly see to setting them up with the bland and thin grey suits, much to most of their dismay. You'll not hear a word said in complaint though. The staff has gotten the threat to them loud and clear. Only the daring will be willing to offer even a mere "good luck". Peacekeepers quickly collect Tributes to send them off into the launch tubes. If you're from the Districts, it may be one of the last things you ever see.

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What everyone rises up to is not much better a sight. It's a war zone out here in every sense. Those native to Panem will recognize the sight before them, having seen it every year in a propaganda tape. The wreckage of District thirteen. The Cornucopia sits at the very center. Offworlders might recognize some of the weapons there, and if not, then they'll certainly be able to spot some familiar scenes far on the outer edges of the arena, perhaps even a beast or two they know well from their worlds.

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It's muddy and damp and there's plenty of wreckage to cut one's self upon no matter where it is Tributes run. The Cornucopia tempts the Tributes in for its bloodbath. Districter and Offworlder alike, there will only be one winner.

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The gong rings out and a voice announces; “The Arena is now open”. The Tributes are free to make their choice; to run or to fight. The Games have begun.

~~~

By the end of the night, one child from each District will have their face shone up into the sky, the first twelve killed at the Cornucopia. Only twelve to go...

Comments

[inrestlessdreams]

For a second, James thought he gave the man the slip and tried to relax...before he heard the steps coming closer, not away.

"Shit," he hissed, having a flashback to the last time he found another tribute in the first week. In Kieran's defense, the man was a zombie, this guy was not.

In fact, Sunderland is pretty sure he's got one choice left: run. Run and drag around any obstacles like bodies and broken furniture behind him.

[expurge]

Running is always the best idea. The Batter isn't going to give up anytime soon, enough weapons in hand to take care of as many other tributes as possible. No way was he going to underperform this time and disappoint his mentor yet again.

The man is fast enough, making the Batter work for his kill, but it is what it is. He knows the other spotted him and was afraid - and that worked out for the better, all things considered. Fear can make a person weak, and slow. It'll only be a matter of time.

But he's not going to take any chances, fishing the knife out first to throw it at the running man, aiming for his back or at least his legs. If he misses, he can pick it up from where the knife falls, but slowing his opponent down is the first step.

[inrestlessdreams]

The knife slashed through one of James' calves, prompting a hiss but he can't slow down. He's learned from his past Arena experiences that the moment he gives another Tribute a chance to catch up, he's dead...

For a fraction of a second he considered getting the knife in his possession and he seized that moment. My blood, my knife now, James argued and a brief instance of bravado took over when he saw that the Batter was armed to the TEETH.

Nope, it would never be that easy, so it's time to escape out of the Cornucopia.

[expurge]

A hit was a hit at least. It would leave a blood trail and slow the other down, and right now, that was all the Batter needed. He wasn't going to exhaust himself chasing after one opponent. But at least now he could find him.

He slows down, the sword tight in his grip as he tracked the blood trail on the ground. He kept an eye on the man ahead, running for his life, until he was far enough in the distance he was out of sight. Everyone else was either fleeing for their lives, or laying dead in the Cornucopia. That was their own faults.

That man better find a way to stop that bleeding quick, and then a good hiding place. Otherwise, the Batter's going to hunt him down and slice him to shreds.

[inrestlessdreams]

Desperate times call for desperate measures as James tore off some fabric off one of the dead Tributes and wrapped his wound as tight as he can before fleeing deeper into the facility. He knows that this Tribute won't stop until he's dead and his face right up there with the cannons This place was too modern, too out there to just be a facsimile.

The exit is close, he can feel the light feel warmer, the air quality improve...but Sunderland is all too aware of the Batter's presence. He threw something down a long corridor, hoping it would sound as if he'd been running down there instead of hiding in the pile of junk he's been able to collect and cover himself.

[expurge]

He is a little disappointed when the blood trail goes cold, but he can get a general sense of the man's direction from the remaining bloodied footprints along the ground. At least he could follow him for a while yet, and the coast was mostly clear from other tributes for the time being. So the Batter continues his pursuit, as relentless as ever. The man's bound to mess up eventually.

The sudden noise off to one side does grab his attention, and he stops for a moment, pondering. In all likelihood, the clatter is meant to be a distraction, an attempt to lure him away while the injured man takes the time to recover. Surely he didn't think he'd fall for a trick like that.

Instead, he slows his pace even more, drawing the shortsword and keeping it at the ready in case the man makes his presence known. He'll scope the place out for another minute or two, just in case. If nothing happens, well. The man could get that wound infected and die of his own carelessness, or another could easily pick him off. It would only be a matter of time.

cw: reference to sexual assault.

[inrestlessdreams]

Batter would have been uncomfortably close for James' taste when he passed by the pile of junk. He held his breath for a few seconds when he saw the other Tribute's legs from where he was. It felt like that moment he hid in the closet from Pyramid Head as he assaulted those two leg-monster things. But this time around, Sunderland had no gun to unload on this unstoppable force of death, nothing he could do to stop that sword from skewering him in an instant.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't trembling. For once since being in the Arenas, James didn't want to die.

[expurge]

There's a dozen hiding places scattered about. The man could be anywhere, taking a moment's refuge to rest and recover before venturing out again. But he's already lost some blood, and the chase would've certainly exhausted him by now. He has to be around here somewhere. The Batter is confident about that, at least.

He stops completely, standing in the middle of the clutter and ruins. If he listens closely, he should hear laboured breathing, the sounds of a wounded and weary man trying to hide and save a few more seconds of his lifetime. The man's scared of him.

...

What a waste. A man like that will get himself killed tripping over a tree root.

Without a word, the Batter carries on forward, keeping the sword in hand and tucking the smaller knife away. He's wasted too much time on this opponent already, he's better off searching for other tributes who can put up more of a fight. It's better that way.