thearena | [open] The only me is me...

Entry tags:

[open] The only me is me...

Who| James and Open!
What| Surviving the Arena and meeting a District kid
Where| Various places
When| Weeks 2 and 3
Warnings/Notes| Silent Hill spoilers, self harm idealization, basically this guy is screwed up

I - Week 2: The City

James has made due with scavenging long before the Capitol reaped him, as he carries around a weapon that feels oh so familiar: a broken steel pipe. And just like its counterpart in Silent Hill, it is caked on with blood and brain matter of whatever unfortunate monster he ran into. He also raids the supplies of dead Tributes, hoping to find a bite or two to eat.

Sunderland knows that District 3 isn't favorably looked upon but he's got to keep moving forward. He has to, not just for Mary's sake, but Clara's as well. He's grown to care about the District 10 Mentor and he's taken to leaving messages like "STILL HERE" for her to read. His delusions are less in between now that he's focused on surviving.

Any tribute he runs into, he will raise his salvaged weapon towards them before determining if friend or foe.

II- Week 3: The Forest and Mountains

A - Forest

"Okay...I'm kinda hungry," slipped out of James's mouth as he finished the last of the fish he caught along the way. He's gotten creative in ways to feed himself, stretching every salvageable scrap of food and water he could find. It's not like he enjoyed hunting the local fauna but the stomach was growling.

Wait, that wasn't his stomach. Sunderland tensed up as he saw one of the many monsters staring back at him, ready to pounce. Shit. Even with the revival mechanism, it still was painful to die and just as he gets the drive to live?! He's running and whoever he runs into just gets a fair warning of "RUN! IT'S COMING!"

No one ever said Silent Hill tourists were courageous.

B - The Mountains

By the time Sunderland gets to the mountains, whatever threat or tribute has long since passed and he finds himself facing the steep mountainside and the majestic castle ruins.

"Wow, if only Mary could see this," he whispered with a smile as he looked up. They were a simple couple when things were good, and of course they had plans to travel the world before having children. Mary's illness took that away from them and now only James could admire the beauty of it all.

As he explored the ruins, he calls out, "Anyone in here?" No responses, it meant that things were safe enough to make camp.

III - Closed to Rotor - Before the blackout

After pressing that strange button, James wondered about the Arena, hoping to find someone else to help. His thoughts, his memories were getting the best of him and Maria's voice was starting to echo in the mountains...

Going back to the Forest was probably not the best idea but there was only so much James could do before he considered going back to the city. But it's during this exploration that he spots a young boy, wandering the trees.

"Hey, are you okay?" Not the best starting conversation but it would do.

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Luck is the only thing that's saved Rotor so far. He's cut and bruised and noticeably thinner than he was when he first entered the Arena; his once-full cheeks look much gaunter, and his eyes are frightened and furtive as he meets the man's eyes.

He stands stiller than a deer, as if waiting for James to reach a decision about a fate that's no longer in Rotor's hands.

"If... if you're going to kill me, I don't think I can fight you off. So... so please do it fast if you have to. I don't want the last thing I feel to be pain," he says, swallowing, voice choking up.

James reeled at just how resigned the boy was to die in the Arena, enough that it seemed painfully familiar. He set aside his pipe weapon and held out his hands, "I'm not going to hurt you." He knows that if this child dies, there's no return trip for him, he's gone forever. Beside, killing this boy would be like killing Laura back in Silent Hill: it would never happen no matter the circumstances. Children's lives were precious enough.

"You're a local kid right? You must be starving," Sunderland offered, just as exhausted as the tribute before him, "We can rest in one of the castles up on the mountains. What's your name?"

Objectively, it's extremely sad and pathetic. Rotor's face and posture say that he's just exhausted from the psychological effort of trying to survive and outrun the attempts of other Tributes to pick him off because he's gentle, because he scored low, because he's an easy target.

His eyes widen when the weapon's set down and James shows him his empty hands. He seems to be bracing for some kind of trick, but when none comes, he relaxes visibly, shoulders sloping and collapsing as the tenseness seeps out of them.

"District 5," he says, swallowing and nodding. "I'm... r-really hungry. I've been too scared to really eat. I'm... I'm Rotor."

It's that call of hunger that James scrambled into searching some of his wares. All he had for now is some very salty meat he's scavenged from other Tributes' food supplies. It's been keeping him in the Arena after all, along with the local fruits. "It's not much but it's what I have at the moment."

He didn't have water but Rotor's stomach must be in some much pain. "Sorry about the, uh, lack of veggies." Sunderland has no idea how to take care of a child; Laura was largely self-sufficient.

Rotor watches tentatively as James starts to scrabble through his supplies. For all he knows, the man could be pulling out a weapon, but he's powerless to react or care. He's resigned to his likely fate, and the glimmer of hope that it might be what he wants most is enough to let him care.

He reaches out for the meat when it's in sight, snatching it and stuffing it in his sallow, sunken cheeks, eating it so quickly he risks choking.

James took this moment to check the boy for any wounds and gashes that needed tending. "It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you, kiddo...do you have a group?"

The poor thing must have been separated, but another, sadder possibility came to mind: the boy has been all alone up until now, just like him. He wished he had something comforting to give the boy aside from food but all he could do was offer was the promised shelter in the mountains.

"We should find them."

Other than a few scrapes and bumps, Rotor's not badly hurt. Just a little bit shaken up and battered in the way that one who's been clumsily tripping through brush and bracken might be, not that it makes his predicament any less sad and pathetic.

"A group? District 5..." he says through the mouthful of dried meat, even though it's clearly not what James means. The boy obviously doesn't have allies, nor many sponsors. "D-do you?"

"Nah, I'm much more of a loner, been so for a while," James confessed, relieved as some of Rotor's energies seemed to come back with the meal. "I'm pretty aware that District 3 doesn't have the best record when it comes to winning, I know my chances."

He doesn't expect to win, of course, but it's not like he'll roll over and die. Been there, done that, what a drag.

"Tell you what, you look like you've been through a lot so let me give you a piggyback ride up to the castle grounds, okay?"

Rotor nods, understanding why someone might rather want to take their chances alone in the Arena rather than join up with people who might slit their throats. It seems like good sense, whether they're weak enough to be the first one picked off in such a situation or strong enough that they could get by on their own.

"I... I know my chances too. They're not good," Rotor says in a pale attempt at a joke. His laughter sounds more like wavery crying than true mirth. He responds to the offer for the piggyback ride with lowered eyes and a nod, shamed and humble. He doesn't want to need what James is offering, but ultimately, he kind of does.

Sunderland picked up on that shame, he recognizes those slumping shoulders and that fallen head. Like Vivi, Rotor brought the caretaker in the clerk and more so one so broken and hopeless.

"There's no shame in asking for help, kid," he spoke softly, "Maybe you'll end up being the underdog in all this. Maybe I'll be assisting your Crowning."

God, I hope so. I don't have much faith in a higher power, but if the old gods can give Silent Hill their power...can they protect this child?

Rotor cracks a broken smile at the prospect of actually being the Victor in all this. "I'd be an awful Victor," he says. "Worse than Temple, or... or the other ones that really shouldn't have won by any right. But I want to live a little longer. There are pretty things in this Arena, that wouldn't be the worst thing to see before dying, if... if I have to."

James sighed and shook his head at the thought of the boy dying by any means. Too young and already more depressed than he was, a crime if there ever was one. Kid, you have a lot of mistakes to make ahead of you, I just hope you get to make them.

"Hey, if we stick together, I can take you to those places if you want?" Sunderland offered, "Sun's still up and the fog's not too thick. What's the one place you really want to go to?" The odds weren't great but this had to be done.

Rotor's dark eyes widen. He'd been offered the piggyback ride and he'd happily accepted it, but this sounds a little more long-term.

"You'd... stick with me?" he asks. "Even though I'm kind of a sandbag? I don't want to get you killed, either. I think I'd have a hard time with anyone's death, even if they really wanted to kill me."

"You're not a sandbag, don't ever call yourself that, okay?" James assured Rotor with a smile that was so rare, it took years off his face. "Come on, we've got a long way to go before the sun sets."

He wasn't an optimist on a good day but he had to pretend for the boy and do something amazing...even if they don't live to enjoy it for long. It's the thought and the experience that counts, right?

"It's not like it's a dirty word," Rotor says, but he cracks a smile at the kind discouragement. James' smile certainly helps him feel like he can rely on him, both for counsel and protection, and that's a far cry from where he was this morning or even five minutes ago.

"Where are you from? You done something like this before?" he asks.

Sunderland smiled a bit meekly at that question, "Well, you could say that...I'm not sure what exactly happened to me, but I..." James figured that Rotor, a child like Laura, would be able to understand or at least grasp the surreal nature of Silent Hill better than most adults.

"I got a letter from my wife Mary, telling me she was visiting our special place in a town called Silent Hill," he began the story and did his best to shield him from the torments the town unleashed as punishment for his sin. "She loved that town but when I came, it wasn't the same place we'd last visited."

Understament of the century.

Edited 2015-11-23 17:44 (UTC)

Rotor, in addition to being from 5, is more cerebral than much of this particular Tribute crop. His dark, intelligent eyes listen with sincere interest and comprehension as James talks about his wife, a special place, a town.

"Places change," he offers. "Were you with her when you went? Maybe that's why it was different. I know that houses aren't the same when the people who lived there are... gone."

Taken by the Capitol, he doesn't say, but he swallows heavily and the point probably gets across.

"Not really, she was dead when I found that letter. At first I didn't realize she was gone when I came to visit her," James avoided a crucial fact about his story, for fear of Rotor understandably running away: he didn't mention that Mary was in the back seat, sleeping an eternal dream.

"The town was practically empty, covered in a thick fog that I'd never seen before, or since until this Arena." Another half-truth, as some of James's madness seeped into his everyday life in Panem, seeing fog where there was none. "Everything felt just a little off, nothing like the warm tourist spot that we visited before she got sick. Have you ever heard of the story of Alice in Wonderland?"

As they walked, Sunderland would look over to Rotor and lift him up if he was slipping away.

Rotor's eyes widen, in shock and sympathy even without the information about where Mary actually was at that point. "She was your wife. How did so much happen without you knowing?" He asks. "How were you separated?"

He shakes his hand, looking lost and clueless about the story as he follows James. So far he's managing to keep up decently well.

"I meant...as in she was dead."

Even James could hardly believe what happened in the town of silenced spirits had really taken place. "I believed I'd gotten a letter from a dead woman. It was something I never really understood why I had that thought. I looked everywhere and the further I went, the more I both lost and found myself."

He remembered where he was and that Clara was watching, so he added, "I drove myself insane looking for my dead wife. Other people had been called to the town too, for different reasons of course."

Somehow the clarification makes it even more disturbing. Rotor had heard it the first time as though the letter had arrived at or around the same time as the news of her death, but the implication now is an extremely haunting one.

"That... sounds poetic though. Like you're taking the bad with the good. Death's gotta be like that if a person's gonna find a way to live, right?"

He looks uneasy at the use of the word "insane", as if he's wondering just how literally James means it.

The moment he saw that unease, James kicked into a sort of protective mode, to shield the boy away from the horrors of Silent Hill and the Arena itself. He killed Eddie in that moment of self-defense, but even he could see how far the delusions went.

"It is sort of poetic, nice call. I lost myself in the grief but I figured..." he couldn't outright say that he gave up on life. Sunderland knew that could destroy the boy's means to survive the odds. "I figured a new way to live."

Because Clara and now Rotor.

Rotor smiles slightly, proud that his modest way with words garnered positive notice from someone so much older and more competent.

"A new way? What new way?" He asks, sure that he can find some kind of inspiration in whatever kept a mourning widower going.

"I thought about the people here in Panem, like you, and making new friends as I tried to rebuild myself into the man that I used to be," James assured Rotor as they approached a clearing in their trek.

"Keeping you safe...that's what Mary would have wanted, and she would find you so sweet and smart," Sunderland added with a smile, as rare as that was. "She would have loved to talk to you, talk about Panem." The way he described Mary, she was the closest thing to an angel.

Rotor nods, listening respectfully and solemnly to words that make sense even as they sound sad and relatively hopeless. James, for all that's happened to him, is determined, and that actually helps restore some of Rotor's faith that things can and will go better from this point forward since the two of them found each other.

"I wish I c-could have met her," Rotor stammers, a flush creeping into his olive cheeks. "She sounds really wonderful. And it sounds kind of lame or cheesy, maybe, but I think she's still living as long as you talk about her like someone you love. That's how we think about it in my District."

Sunderland was quiet for a second before he understood the understated beauty in Rotor's words. Mary may be gone but by the way James spoke about her, a part of her lived on, giving her that almost saintly dream quality that she never enjoyed in life.

"She would have welcomed you and your family with an open door. So, let's make that your resolve to survive, okay? Let's get you out of here."

James's voice was livelier now, because he had a new reason to live: the boy on his shoulders who had started out so meek and down. If an act by the Capitol could ensure James' reaping, then the dreams of the old Silent Hill gods can be trusted with Rotor's survival.

At least that's how Sunderland saw it, or the delusions he was plagued with offered him some solace.

[ooc: wrap here?]

Rotor recognizes that something he's said has resonated deeply with the brokenhearted man. He smiles, liking the thought that he's helped someone's outlook and left something better than he found it even with the grim backdrop of the Hunger Games as their setting.

"Let's do that," he agrees, holding tightly as they venture forward.

Rick was heavily armed by arena standards, the shotgun loaded and muscles tensed as he made his way through the trees. It wasn't far off from where they'd set the snares, and there'd still been the vague hope that he might cross paths with something edible and relatively easy to catch - and preferably, with minimal struggle.

It wasn't so much that Rick didn't know how to hunt. That first winter after the farm, he and Daryl had frequently spent their days prowling the woods, scraping up whatever lean findings they could. What skills he'd gleaned, he'd taken mostly from the younger Dixon, but even a good teacher couldn't make up for his lack of experience. His footsteps were that little bit louder, his senses not quite as keen. He could identify the trails, though he couldn't tell you what left them half as quickly or accurately as an actual hunter might.

It didn't stop him from trying. With Daryl injured, Rick had tried to shoulder some of the responsibilities, with varying degrees of success. It didn't help matters that Daryl would never have admitted to the severity of his condition, and continued on as though nothing had changed. Rick could see the toll it was taking, could measure it every time he changed his bandages.

... To be completely fair, Rick would have - and had - done the same damned thing.

He'd heard the shout before he saw the source, recognition delayed - but fortunately for James, Rick did know who he was. They'd shared a carriage and a District, and it was likely the only thing that spared him. That said, it wouldn't keep him safe.

"Shut up and get down," he snapped, weapon already brought to bear.

James took the command and immediately hit the ground, hands covering his head. There should be no doubt where Rick could shoot the creature to make it fall but Sunderland had to give him one more piece of advice. It's almost as if Silent Hill didn't want to let him go after all this time. All James was thankful was that Maria wasn't here or else this could have been absolutely terrible.

"Stomp its neck!" his yell is slightly muffled with the grass around him. This was the only way to make sure, short of blowing the monster's head clean off, to prevent it from rising again.

Shotguns had always been Shane's weapon of choice. For Rick, he'd never quite found that knack for them, preferring the accuracy and range of a rifle - But within the realm of the arena, they couldn't afford to be choosy. It was the first firearm he'd seen since all this started, and a significant step up from the makeshift weapons of games past.

But that firepower wasn't without its drawbacks. The sound of the shot echoed through the trees, just as dangerous as any monster - A necessary risk, but a threat all the same. Still, it had done its job, the monster letting out a guttural snarl as it toppled backwards, clawed hands slashing at the air as it fell. The Gamemakers weren't ones to pull their punches, and Rick wasn't going to underestimate any unknown factors - It may not have been the fastest, but then, neither were the walkers.

"We need to move."

Even without James' guidance, it was almost automatic for Rick to finish the job with the butt of the weapon. He brought it down hard on the monster's head, then again until he felt its skull give way under the force - The brain was always the target, the only sure fire way to know that it wasn't coming back.

"If there's more of those things, they'll have heard the shot."

Whether his Districtmate was with him or not, Rick didn't plan on sticking around to meet them.

Rick sounded like a survivor, maybe from a place similar to the tourist trap, in more ways that one, that was the town of quiet spirits. There is a connection there but in the heat of the Arena it is not pondered upon as James would've.

Sound makes anything come and investigate but as soon as he could, Sunderland stomped the creature's neck until it snapped in that telltale sound. It was the only way back then to keep things from standing up, hasn't failed him yet.

"Have a camp nearby?" he asked as he kept pace with Grimes. He wasn't going on without a fight.

With the immediate danger passed, Rick had time to think again. He still wasn't entirely sure why he'd stopped to help the other man, risked his position; the fact they shared a District meant very little in the grand scheme of things. While their young mentor had touted the benefits of automatic alliances, Rick hadn't bought it.

What did he know about this man?

Perhaps at one point in his life, it wouldn't have mattered. They'd needed to fight to preserve life, to keep one another alive - even the lives of strangers. But after the Governor, after Terminus and Andrew and Nick... Trust wasn't something given freely. Not when it involved the safety of his camp. His people.

"No," he replied, his tone clipped, to the point. It wasn't a lie - They were still some distance from the mock Lindblum. Shifting his grip on the shotgun, he cast a hard look back over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. "Do you?"

Edited 2015-12-01 06:00 (UTC)

"No group, I've been on my own for a while," Mostly because he made one hell of an impression on Firo Prochainezo, "I've been looking for a Tribute named Vivi...he's a little strange kid with glowing yellow eyes, have you seen him?" Sunderland asked rather worried for the little mage.

And he knows for a fact that Rick took that particular tribute in if Celebrus were to be believed. He didn't want to join any group, he already knew he was a burden at first glance. But it's his lack of survival drive, other than to live for Clara and Mary's memory that keeps him going.

"I need to know if he's safe or on the other side."

"No one is safe here."

It was for that exact reason that Rick loathed the ubiquitous media coverage - There were no secrets here. He'd considered it to be one of the larger threats they'd faced since their arrival, laying bare their connections and highlighting potential weaknesses; it was far too easy to connect the dots now, following the lines between individuals and knowing just where to strike. Rick didn't buy that James was oblivious to his relationship with the mage, given the gossip mongers' penchant for smearing it all over their magazines.

... He hadn't forgotten the petition for Vivi's death either.

Rick returned his gaze to the path ahead of him, his expression betraying nothing as he considered his next words. It was easy enough to know that Vivi was still active in the arena, given that his cannon had not yet sounded.

"But yeah. He's alive."

It was only the other man's sense in not probing for a location that the weapon hadn't been turned on him, but there was no mistaking the underlying threat in his tone; James was treading on thin ice, as was anyone where Rick's family was concerned. They were still in the arena, after all.

"You wanna tell me what that thing was?"

One look at the fleshbound corpse and James knew where it came from, what it was and holy hell, how did the Capitol make this thing? His voice trembled as he answered, "Dunno what it's called but I've seen it before." Indeed, he's seen it with that loud-mouthed guy, Firo was it? Either way, he knows, and the moment he can, he stomped and kicked the thing's neck until it made a loud crack sound.

"Comes from a place called Silent Hill, didn't think it'd be here, all things considered," he thought out loud, "They were made to punish people, for what they did."

Rick was notoriously vengeful with those who betrayed his trust, so why not be direct and honest for once.

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[open] The only me is me...

III

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