thearena | I'm not that strong I don't lift cars

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cassandra marko

I'm not that strong I don't lift cars

Who: Sandy Marko and Open to All
What: Exploring the ~~Freddy Fazbears~~ Pizza Place and ~~Avengers~~ Tower with the A on it.
When: Near the end of week one.
Where: The City
Warnings: Descriptions of burn wounds, monsters, violence, cussing, generally being miserable in the arena.

It was simply the nature of the arena to find ways to separate you from your companions.

She had been in thirteen arenas by this point, and yet even Pruna, her best friend and skilled assassin had been unable to stay with her without the arena splitting them up. So unfortunately despite the various tributes who had gone out of their way to help Sandy in her first few days, she had lost track of them once again. She could only hope the sinister shadows lurking around each corner and the monsters she had heard in the night hadn't gotten ahold of them.

Deep bags were under her eyes as she blearily greeted the daylight from a small nest she had made for herself on the roof of a building in a ventilation duct. She had gotten almost no sleep in the past five days save for when she passed out from exhaustion. The faint whispering of long dead tributes was hissing in her ears every night and day now and it was becoming almost impossible to block them out.

And yet the whispers were tolerable compared to the screams. Every now and then one would scream right next to her ear and make her heart jump into her throat. She always lashed out when the screams happened as evident by a fist shaped dent in the metal of her duct nest. She'd nearly broken her hand that time.

Dragging herself out of the duct to take care of nature's call she was greeted by one of the first bits of relief she'd had all week that hadn't come from a fellow tribute taking pity on her.

A parachute drifting lazily onto her roof. She fell to her knees once she had it in her arms and unsealed the container greedily, wincing as her bad hand struggled for a moment before wrenching off the lid.

Food. A knife, a first aid kit and most importantly burn cream! She started to cry and clutched the package close to her chest.

She still had a fighting chance. There were still people back in the Capitol trying to help her.

She set to work as soon as she calmed down. Today was a new day.

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She hadn't intended on entering the Pizza place really. In fact she'd passed by it on her way into town and opted to stay away because she felt like having only one exit meant it was too dangerous a place to hide.

Still desperate times call for desperate measures. In her exploration of the city some beasts had caught her scent and were stalking her. She couldn't outrun them in her current state, limping along on her bad burnt leg, and she didn't want to risk a fight with how weak she felt. So instead while she grit her teeth against a fresh new scream from the back of her head she circled around the corner of the building and darted inside.

With the beasts sniffling around the door she knew she couldn't just wait for them to leave. If they got it into their heads to break the door down instead...

...and so she found herself tentatively creeping into the pizza place, drawing out her knife and getting the strangest sense of deja vu. Given how close she was with Phil back in the Capitol it was impossible for her not to think of the infamous Pizza Place he had come from.

An ominous and unsettling laugh seemed to confirm her fears. this was not a smart place to hide.

It's just not ominous unsettling laughter that echoes in the halls of the decrepit restaurant. Barely a few steps into the place and Sandy will be able to hear panicked, terrified screaming from the other end of the building, but no matter how fast she runs, she won't get there in time.

There's cobwebs and stray wires everywhere, and those animatronic creatures are nothing short of grotesque. Honestly? He has no idea what had drawn him to the place, but after a scuffle just outside, he thought it would be a safe shelter. A pity he didn't stop to reconsider before entering.

Jeremy's not sure he can take much more of this. He's exhausted, he's lost and confused, and now he's in an excrutiating amount of pain. Another tribute's knife had been thrown and caught his right shoulder as he tried to run away, and he twisted his elbow when he fell. He forced himself to get back up and keep running, but to end up here of all places - only a few minutes into tripping over his own feet in his frightened state, memories rushing back and clouding his mind, something had slammed into his chest with such force he was thrown back against the wall behind him. He's pretty sure that's what broken ribs feels like.

He hasn't been able to get back up since. The writhing, twitching animatronic on the ground before him is keeping him in place, paralyzed in fear, any slight movement causing sharp pain in his chest, right arm limp at his side. All he can do now is cower against the wall behind him, trembling, tears streaming down his face.

Somehow, he's not at all surprised that this is his fate. History's always doomed to repeat itself, or so the phrase goes.

She can't run fast, not nearly as fast as she used to and in a dark place like this she wouldn't dare, but instinct drives her to find the poor screaming soul in case she can help him.

What she finds is some kind of slow, painful murder in progress. The animatronic isn't like any of the other's she's seen yet hauntingly familiar. The white face, rosy cheeks and fox features reminds her of the costume they'd stuck her in for Phil's crowning. What had he called it? Mangle?

But it's not making quick work of the man, not like the other animatronics that had tried to kill Sandy in previous arenas. This one seems content to let him suffer and it churns Sandy's stomach.

Keeping her distance she hisses at him from the doorway, making sure to check behind her every so often in case something is trying to sneak up on her.

"Hey, new guy! Stop screaming will ya? You'll bring every monster in the building to you. Do you wanna die that badly?"

Because if he wasn't dead yet there was still a chance right? Even if that chance was as pathetic as an eleven year old girl with burns covering roughly fifty percent of her left side.

Whoever's at work behind the scenes had certainly done their research, because in Jeremy's panicked state, all thoughts of the arena and tributes and battling to the death is long gone. As far as he's concerned, he's back at the real Freddy Fazbear's from his homeworld, reliving the same nightmares from his remaining days after the attack. It's not always a bite - sometimes Mangle does bite his head right off, certainly, other times she starts at his feet and works her way up, making screeching radio static noises all the while. Apparently this time she's just chosen to headbutt him and shatter him from the inside out. Unpredictable as ever.

He can't help freaking out. This place terrorized and traumatized him, and inevitably killed him. Seeing it all come back again, as horrifying and grotesque as it always was, looking like a pitiful cowering mess on the floor is the least of his worries.

The girl's voice reaches him through his daze and surprisingly, calms him down. He still trembles, still breathes shaky, still can't stop the tears, but he stops wailing like a lost child at least. Which-- actually ...

"Are you-- ... one of them?"

He is dead, isn't he? So could that mean the girl's the spirit of one of the missing children?

One of who? Another tribute? "Yeah but it's OK, I'm...I'm gonna help you!"

Somehow...what even was this thing slowly killing the poor bastard? Sandy's blood ran cold as she caught a glimpse of it's face and realized she had seen those markings before.

Someone in the Capitol with an unintentionally sick sense of humor had dressed Sandy up as Mangle for Phil's crowning. A fitting dress for the little girl who kept getting ripped apart and put back together after each arena.

Inching closer now she could practically hear Phil screaming at her from wherever he was watching this. She should leave this poor sucker to die. She had seen the Capitol animatronics in action. If they wanted you dead it was going to be near impossible to stop it.

"What's your name?" She pressed trying to help him focus on anything but the oncoming doom. The burns that disfigured half her body were aching with every pump of adrenaline fueled blood in her heart, the salt from her sweat stinging at small cuts and scrapes that hadn't completely healed.

So she was one of the victims. She looked a little older than what he was expecting, but he supposed some killers weren't that specific with their targets. It was still a shame though, she's still younger than he is, and she should've been allowed to live a much longer and happier life.

And she didn't seem to be in much better shape here. Maybe she was a newer victim, another missing child after he was attacked himself, but did the restaurant burn down? Those were definitely burn injuries. The poor girl.

"Fitz--" he's interrupted by a cough, leaving a small trail of blood trickling from his mouth, "... F-Fitzgerald. I was one-- one of the ... guards, h-here."

He's resigned himself to this fate, unable to move, slumped against the wall, one arm gone numb and the rest of him bleeding internally. It's slow and every breath he draws is agonizing. But even saying that, at least he was a grown adult. He couldn't imagine what it was like for the children, so young and unassuming, and if what he thought happened to them really did happen, it was so much worse. The animatronic on the ground screeches and buzzes, making Jeremy's head feel ready to explode, but he tries to focus on the girl as best he can.

"I-I'm sorry ... I tried-- tried to help ..."

She moaned unintentionally as Jeremy introduced himself. Looking to the monster and then to him she brought her hands to her face and groaned in a mix of frustration and horror. The image and noise probably didn't help his comfort at all but it was falling into place for Sandy now. She realized who he was and why he was here.

And somewhere she hoped that Phil had something strong to drink and someone to hold him. Because this was going to get worse before it got better.

Sinking to her knees she moved to his side, keeping a wide path around Mangles reach in case the beast decided to switch targets "I-it's OK...it really is. I...you tried to help I know." She didn't. She had no idea if he was really helping or if he was part of the problem with this nightmare of a pizza place. But whoever he was, he was dying and he was in pain.

"It's going to be OK." She promised as her good hand found his and gave it a squeeze. Her bad hand was reaching behind herself to curl her fingers around the knife her sponsors had sent.

Please Phil, forgive me. I don't know if you knew this guy.

This would be the second employee of Freddy Fazbears that Sandy had put out of his misery. She hoped this wasn't going to become a trend.

"My names Sandy." she introduced herself trying not to look at his throat where she knew it would be quickest to and easiest to end this. It was tempting to go for the heart but she might miss and hit his rib cage which would just hurt him more.

She seemed like a nice girl. Obviously he hasn't known her for very long, but she's reassuring him, despite still being in such pain herself. Were ghosts always condemned to an afterlife of torment and anguish? Maybe he'll find out.

Not that he was looking forward to it, but dying wasn't anything new.

Dying like this was new. When he was bit before, he barely felt a thing - of course, he was overcome by shock and confusion, he didn't know what was happening until he woke up days later, staring at x-rays of his own head showing the damage. Back then, nothing really hurt. There were headaches, exhaustion, nightmares, and then it was all just silence. It was a long process, but that was it. Until he woke up here, and told to run into the open field to try and survive.

He was doing a spectacular job of that, for sure. Everything hurts, it hurts to breathe, it hurts to even think. He has no idea what she means by "it's going to be okay," but then he can feel her hand gently grasping his and it helps. He calms down a little, still shaking but less of a panicking mess than a few moments ago, and he curls his fingers around her smaller hand. He only barely catches a glimpse of the knife in her other hand, but surprisingly, he's not afraid. She knows now, Jeremy was just trying to help them all, find the man responsible and make sure justice was served. She knew that now. That's good.

"... can you ... make-- make it quick?"

Last time he died, it was drawn out over two months. In his current state, it'll take a while yet, internal injuries severe but he didn't want to sit here and stare at that screeching contraption in front of him for much longer. But he can't move, either. He doesn't have much of a choice, so if the girl - Sandy - is willing to help him out, he'd be grateful.

The request chilled her even further then she already had been. Her insides felt like a block of solid ice.

"Y-yeah...just close your eyes and relax. Take a nice deep breath and let it out slow. It'll be quick."

Her voice quivered, but her grip on the knife tightened.

"When you get to the other side...tell Phil I'm sorry OK?"

It was a horrible request to ask of a child. No one should have someone else's fate shoved into their hands, and Jeremy hated to ask it. But he had no one else around, no other option. His own knife was long gone and he couldn't move, and he didn't want to die another slow death in front of the shrieking animatronic that had been responsible for his death back home too.

He knew it was selfish of him, too. But, it is what it is. She agrees to it, so the next step was just accepting it, and moving on. He hopes she'll be okay.

Jeremy does as she instructs, closing his eyes, his next breath shaky but slow and deep as requested. He's not sure who this "Phil" guy is, but he nods his head. It's the least he can do, he supposes.

"I-I'm sorry." He whispers the words one last time.

It is swift, but not silent. Not for Sandy as her ears pick up the subtle sounds of rended flesh and spurting blood. It gets on her shirt and soaks her hand. In a way she feels like it's only fair.

She watches over him to make sure he dies. Holding his hand as gingerly as she can with the bandaged burnt one not using her knife. No one should die alone. She was with Phil when he died. She would stay with Jeremy as well.

And maybe when/if she say them both back in the Capitol she'd forgive herself for crying over a mercy killing.

It hurts, but only a fraction compared to the pain he's already in. He tries to keep his eyes closed, but within mere moments he starts to lose the strength to open them anyway. His grip on her hand tightened, only briefly, and then even that's gone.

His body starts to slump to the side, the weaker he gets. He feels the warmth of the blood rushing from hit throat and pouring down to his chest. At least it all happens quickly, everything fades fast, and Jeremy runs out of strength to tell her he's grateful. But he is, the pain subsides and then, inevitably, there's nothing but blackness. The cannon outside makes it official within seconds.

If he does ever see her again, he'll be sure to tell her.

While supplies are scarce, with the revelation that the masks could restore her super powers, Sandy wanted to make sure she had a good supply on hand. Unfortunately they seemed to be spread around the city and traveling for her was a slow and painful process.

So between hiding from monsters and collecting masks you might catch sight of her peering around a corner, or from behind a motor cycle. Maybe she's going for the same mask you were going for. A half burnt little girl wearing a parachute as a sling to carry her supplies.

Ermac was wandering the city in search of supplies, himself. He'd kept to himself during this Arena, choosing to learn the lay of the land, to understand the dangers and his fellow Tributes before attacking any of them. The last Arena had taught him to be cautious, so he was being cautious.

Seeing Sandy's familiar shape alone in the city, however, is enough to convince him to abandon the shadows at least long enough to check on her. Many of his souls had been actual ninjas, so his stepping out into the open is as sudden as a ghost taking on a visible form. Adding to that effect is the fact that he chose to wait until she was right beside him before stepping out into the open.

"Sandy?"

Having been constantly assaulted by whispering voices that only she could hear, she almost ignored Ermac till she sensed movement and turned to see him stepping out of the shadows like magic. It was enough to make her jump and then wince because such sharp movements hurt her wounds.

Half her body was burnt and in various stages of healing. She had wrapped makeshift bandages around her fingers from strips of fabric but they only helped so much.

"Glad to see a friendly face." She offered hopefully. She didn't think Ermac would change his mind and try to kill her, but then again he had many different minds to draw from....or maybe souls worked differently. Either way she offered him a lopsided and sort of pathetic smile.

"Indeed."

He frowns when he sees the bandages on her hand.

"Who hurt you?"

He'd hunt them down, make them pay dearly for attacking a child. In the meantime, he could at least take a look at her wounds to see if he can do anything for her. He approaches her cautiously, watching for any kind of ambush or monster that might be looking around, then kneels to get a better look at her hands.

"May we?"

"Yeah sure." She held her bandaged hand up, and now that he was closer he could see the burns on her face more clearly, running down her neck. Her entire left side from her hip to her head was burnt in varying degrees of severity but time had begun the process of healing as pathetic as that might be. The burn cream had been the biggest help to keep her from being in too much pain to function.

"A girl, Arya. She's in my class. We both went after the same weapon and it went off in her hands spitting fire at me." She explained watching his face trying to determine his thoughts.

"The first time it was an accident, the second time she tried to finish me off. I got away but..."

But what? She was a mess? She was uglier then ever? She had very little chance of surviving the arena in this state?

"Everything hurts." she decided was the best explanation.

"Arya..."

He furrows his brow as he tries to remember her. He'd heard the name before, and he was sure he'd watched some Arena footage featuring her, but he just can't bring up a face to go with the name. Was this how most people felt all the time? He'd never actually forgotten a face before; with ten thousand spirits, it was difficult to forget anything. But here, they remain frustratingly silent no matter how much he tries to prod them into action.

"We will find her."

And kill her, of course.

"Have you found any medication? Any herbs?"

She nodded and shifted her shoulder to make the parachute on her back shift slightly.

"Some sponsors sent me a first aid kit and burn cream. The cream makes it so I can get around without hurting as much."

The first couple days had been hell. Only able to go a short distance without stopping, barely able to use her burnt hand. The constant urge to run hindered by a leg that sent lightning through her each time it moved.

"This place...it's like my home." She gestured to the towering concrete and glass buildings. "Like they mashed my city together with a bunch of others. There's even a building here that looks exactly like it did in my history books." She points in the direction of the tall Tower with an A on it.

"It's actually kind of creepy." As if finding the empty ruins of her former home would be comforting.

He looks to the tower she's pointing at and studies it for a long moment. It must have been an important place in her world, to be so excessively tall and clearly quite expensive to build.

"What is it for?"

In his own world, such a building would be for royalty, or perhaps for military training purposes. But this was nothing like his world, and he knew that Earthrealm could afford to build such extravagant towers for people as mundane and unimportant as clerks and merchants.

"Heroes." That seemed to be the easiest answer. She took a deep breath and let it out slow.

"Once upon a time, there came a threat greater then any that had ever faced humanity. A threat more dangerous and powerful then any one hero alone could handle. And so thrown together by fate a team of super powered heroes joined forces and became a team to protect the world from that threat and any others that would come. They called themselves The Avengers."

Her voice is reverent when she speaks of them and even in her state of pain she looks inspired.

"Some of the Avengers have come through the arenas, some are still alive in the Capitol like Tony Stark. He's the one who built that tower as their headquarters."

"He still lives?"

His surprise is obvious. He'd seen the video, and had been told that the man had been Tony Stark. Was death not permanent under any circumstances for them?

The question stunned her and her face fell.

"Oh...that's right."

How could she have forgotten...was she really so exhausted this early in the arena? Or had she just seen so much death that losing Tony barely phased her anymore?

"Sorry...I...I don't know how I forgot that." It troubled her more that she'd forgotten then the actual fact he was dead.

"I guess this place wasn't meant for heroes."

"It appears not. We have met many 'heroes,' both living and dead. We doubt they could survive here."

While he would appreciate a familiar face or two from his own realm joining him here, he very much doubted that any of the more heroic Earthrealmers he knew would be able to keep their distaste for Panem quiet enough to survive for long. They called it courage, he called it foolishness. You need animate, thinking bodies to cause any sort of change, not corpses.

He gets to his feet, satisfied that Sandy is doing everything she can for her wounds.

"We should investigate this tower. There may be supplies."

She nodded in agreement "There might be trouble too. But if you're here I'll feel safer about checking it out."

She starts her slow plodding path towards the tower. Each step on her burnt side is agony but she's getting better at planting her foot with more confidence. It wobbles and trembles at times as if the muscles don't want to work anymore.

The city looms all around them casting a constant shadow. Unless the sun was directly over them Sandy's not sure there would be any light at all that didn't get blocked by a building. At least the Avengers Tower is made of something reflective which splashes around some light.

The main entrance is made up of revolving doors which have rusted, but between the two of them they manage to get one moving. Inside seems as empty and dead as the outside world. Polished marble that has grown dull with age. A thick layer of dust on all the furniture which has been torn into or chewed on by...something.

"Hopefully whatever did that isn't still living here." Sandy noted glancing at one ruined chair that had been reduced to parts of a chair.

Something else caught her eye however...a mask. Laying on the floor as plain as could be. A simple domino mask, the kind favored by heroes with less concern about protecting their head and more concern about having a full range of vision as they battled.

The last time there were masks laying around an arena...but the Capitol wouldn't pull that old trick again would they? Where would they even hide hooks in this flimsy thing?

He listens closely to his surroundings, but hears only his own and Sandy's breathing. It does nothing to convince him that there's nothing here; a building in this state of disrepair should be creaking and groaning, but this one is silent. It had clearly been built to simply look like a ruin. No doubt the architects had also laid traps here, possibly even sound proofed some areas so that their 'muttations' could sneak up on unwary Tributes.

"We should not count on it being vacated."

He notes the mask on the floor, but sees it simply as debris. What use was a mask in a competition like this? He had no reason to hide his identity.

She was in agreement on that, any minute now she expected one of the fleshy abominations that had been stalking her to appear, or something worse. She'd heard the steady thumps and crunch of metal feet in the streets.

Picking up the mask she looked around to make sure there was plenty of room. Since nothing seemed to be threatening them in this moment she slipped on the mask and thankfully didn't feel fish hooks digging into her flesh.

Instead she felt a familiar rush of power, of confidence, and best of all, her pain was numbed! Grey stone coated her skin, hair and clothes making her look for all intents and purposes like a statue, save for the fact that she could move. A smile slid across her features, this could be a huge benefit so long as there wasn't any horrible side effects...and there usually were.

He doesn't notice the change at first, preoccupied as he is with watching for any kind of danger that might be lurking around a corner as they made their way deeper into the tower. When he does notice, however, he actually does a double-take.

"Sandy?"

She offers a crooked sort of grin, stone lips parting to show pebble-like teeth.

"I knew it! This mask...it's a tool! A weapon! The Capitol had stuff like this in an earlier arena...the only downside is they were on a timer and when time ran out, so did your powers. And it would dig hooks into your face. You had to rip the things off to use another mask."

And Sandy had gone through so many masks her face looked like raw hamburger by the time she'd finally died in that arena.

"This is what my powers do normally. If the Capitol hadn't shut them down I could do this sort of thing all the time."

"Truly?"

He almost seems excited by the prospect of regaining his powers, but the latter half of her comment sinks in. Of course there was a catch.

"Be careful. There must be some trick to it."

He didn't want to see her get hurt again, but it wasn't his place to tell her not to wear the mask if she wanted to. She was a fighter in her own right, after all.

She nods and taps at her stone wrist where the burns are on display. It doesn't hurt and that makes her happy.

"Alright let's see..." Bringing her hands up to the mask she peels it off and her skin immediately softens. There's a few moments of quiet where she breathes in and out slowly...

...and then a stabbing pain up her spine. Down her arms. She cries out and crumples like a puppet with it's strings cut. Curling up into a ball and clutching at her sides.

"A-ahhhh fuck ow ow ow ow OW!" She couldn't help but shout out, her pain echoing through the lobby.

"Whoa."

She had thought perhaps this was a type of New York, the buildings were similar but every so often there was a building out of place. A park that didn't look...natural.

But this...this was familiar. This was supposed to be the Oscorp Tower in her world, but here it had it's proper name. It's proper symbol on the highest point of the building.

"Avengers Tower." She whispered to herself more then anything.

The whispers of long dead children that only she could hear chasing after her she pressed her hands to the dirty glass of the revolving door and put her weight into it, grunting and groaning in pain from her bad hand as she slowly slipped inside.

The once opulent lobby of the tower was in ruins. Holes in the building from some massive battle that had happened long ago. Shattered glass spread on the ground. It was nothing as glorious as she'd imagined but in a strange way it made her feel like she was back in the training center.

"Tony would be so mad to see it like this." She muttered, her voice and footsteps echoing with each step.

However she was not as alone as she felt.

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I'm not that strong I don't lift cars

Freddy Fazbears

later dated like week 3 idk

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The City Streets

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Avengers Tower