thearena | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who| Alpha and Howard [Closed]
What| Betrayal and death.
Where| Alpha and Howard's base camp.
When| Mid-week four
Warnings| Death, violence, all the standard warnings that come with Alpha.

Things were winding down, Alpha can feel it. There were still a decent amount of Tributes left, but by now it would be mostly whittled down to the extremely strong or the extremely lucky, and luck could only hold out so long. He creeps towards his and Howard's little hideaway, as silent as he could manage more by habit than design, and wonders if it might be time to cut away the dead weight and finally work on winning this damn thing. Alpha is destined for greatness and the Arena is an unacceptable drain on his time.

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Howard's hunched over their dwindling pile of supplies. The fire's died down a while ago, which is fine, because it's not as cold during the day as it is at night. Rather than tending to it, Howard's rooting through their belongings to see what he can deliver to Sigma. It's not as if Sigma really asks for anything, but Howard has more faith in Alpha's ability to take care of himself - cyber-eye or not, Sigma's old and frail.

Currently, Howard's stuffing some of the materials from the fire starter kit down the front of his parka, along with a five-foot cut of the fishing line. He hears Alpha approaching and shoves them out of sight before he can be seen, but as he straightens up he knows he looks suspicious. He decides it's safer to play it cool than try to find an excuse for why part of the fishing line is missing.

"Where were you all day?"

"What?" says Alpha, genuinely startled. He'd come across Howard...well, not doing much of anything, apparently, which was somehow suspicious in of itself, and the question takes him off guard. Mostly because of how pointless it is. "What kind of question is that? What possible answer could you be expecting that isn't 'traversing the frozen tundra'?"

"Jeez, I'm just curious. Figure it's better conversation than 'shitty weather, huh?'." Howard backtracks his statement quickly, not wanting to look as if he's the hostile party - he and Alpha may be allies, but as Howard's leaned about all parties with more power than you, that doesn't give you a free license to piss them off.

Alpha squints at him. Is the kid jumpier than usual, or just his normal skittish? It's hard to say. "Well," he says conversationally, "If you really want we could talk about our days hunting for increasingly sparse food and killing off our fellow Tributes in sacrifice to the reality show gods. I found nothing to eat and no one to kill. How was your day, dear?"

Alright, maybe Alpha's a little snippy himself today. He's becoming increasingly impatient and he was being truthful--he hadn't seen anyone worth tackling in his wanderings.

"Found a bird, honey." He gestures to a lump of bloody snow. Really, it's a miracle they haven't gotten some kind of bacterial illness yet. They might not even really get to cook it, as they're running low on fire supplies. "Didn't kill anyone."

He almost says 'still didn't kill anyone', but honestly, he's too tired to keep up the lie. He uses his foot to kick a bit of snow over the section of supplies he's been kiping from. "How much longer you think this'll go?"

"Bringing home the bacon," he says with sarcasm, but no real heat, watching Howard kick the snow with a frown. "Depends. Most of the easy targets have been picked off by now, leaving less Tributes but stronger and more skilled ones."

He moves to walk past Howard, into their camp and looks around casually. He's feeling twitchy, possibly the constant surveillance getting too him again. Even the Dollhouse had little corners where the cameras were blind. Perhaps the Arena did as well, but Alpha had no way of being sure of that.

Or it could be there actually is something off and Alpha's instincts are screaming at him. He looks back at Howard, then down at their supplies. "What have we got left?" As if Alpha couldn't remember. "Enough to last another week?"

"Yippee." Which means he's getting up next on the chopping block. Howard tries to ignore that thought. It isn't easy.

Howard looks over the remaining supplies. He wants to lie, because he knows his own expiration date is tied to their resources, but he also knows he'd get caught then. "No. Maybe two days, tops, if I keep catching birds."

"We'll have to be luckier next time we go hunting." Alpha's got his own stashes here and there, not much, just things scavenged from camps abandoned by dead Tributes, frozen bird meat from his own (animal) hunts. No reason Howard needs to know about them, but even all together it's not a lot. "Keep an eye out for bears." Alpha's not the type to let things go easily.

He squats down by the supplies to rummage through them, thinking he could either use some of the fishing line to actually fish or garrote the first person he comes across with supplies.

"Our luck's decreasing each day we don't get enough nutrients." He winces a bit as Alpha mentions bears, then goes and hunkers up in the corner of the cave with his sleeping bag again. "What're you looking for?"

"Hm," is all Alpha says. Instead he frowns and holds up the fishing line. "Is it just me, or did we have more this morning?" Has someone been in Alpha's--in their hiding spot? It's not the most well-hidden, but the thought still rankles.

"I don't know. How can you tell? It's not like we have a measuring tape." Howard shrugs, curling a little bit tighter into his ball, keeping the missing line hidden in his clothes.

"We're not exactly overflowing with resources here," Alpha says, and now he's watching the kid carefully. You'd think he would also be concerned if they had a trespasser in their makeshift home, considering he's the type who has 'kick me' tattooed permanently on their faces. "I like to keep track. And I've got very sharp eyes--might call me the observant type." But he hasn't been very observant lately, has he? grown complacent in tracking down victims or food or what have you, assuming that Howard will do as he's told only because he realizes that Alpha's a dangerous man to disobey.

"Yeah, I'm just saying, how can you tell? We still have enough line that we're not going to use it all up before we die of something else out here." Unlike food and fire materials. Howard's eyes narrow a bit, as if daring Alpha to disagree with him. Inside, he's panicking. His blood is pounding in his peripheral vision and his breath seems to only squeak out.

"I remember how much we had last I checked, then compare it to what we have now. That's how," he says slowly, as though he's talking to a child. He stands, then pulls out his knife and cuts off a length only a couple of feet long. He slips the knife, once again folded, into his sleeve and tosses the larger length back into the pile. "And how fast we use depends entirely on how we use it, doesn't it?" he says absently, wrapping each end around his hands and pulling, testing the strength.

His friendly, cheerful air is gone now, though he's not trying to appear threatening or dangerous, instead sounding mostly thoughtful.

But Howard's built, molded, to read threats into even innocuous statements. It's what's kept him alive this long. So he sees the cord, sees the indents where it pulls tight against Alpha's hands, and the blood in his head rushes to his ankles.

He stays where he is, trying to see if he can extricate himself for now without completely burning this bridge. If he just runs, it'll be suspicious. If he finds a way to excuse himself, to explain...

"What are you saying?"

Alpha grins suddenly and loosens his grip, rolling up the fishing line and tucking it into his parka. It's not a friendly smile. "Saying? Isn't it obvious?" He turns towards where Howard's curled up in the back, ambles in his direction. "I'm saying you need to be a little more creative, is all. Open-minded."

The apprehensive light in Howard's eyes turn to the dull expression of having a bad suspicion confirmed. Oh. Right after all. He knew there was a time limit on his alliance with Alpha but since it's been mutually beneficial so far, he didn't want it to end so soon - and he really doesn't want it to end in his death. His mouth feels dry. He blinks a bit, looking as if he still isn't getting the picture, inside trying to calculate, to keep the nauseating, blinding, senseless panic from making him do anything stupid.

Under the sleeping bag, Howard's getting his feet under him, ignoring the pain in his ankle. Alpha's bigger than him, stronger, and even in the last few days better fed. Howard still has his knife, but that barely occurs to him - right now his only goal is figuring out how to get past Alpha and to the opening of the cave.

Stupid. He shouldn't have let himself get cornered like this. Stupid...

"You mean like tying people up?" he says, letting the question hang for just a second before he casts the sleeping bag aside and bolts, one hand hugging along the edge of the cave, trying to slip to Alpha's side and away to a slight extension of safety.

Alpha doesn't bother to answer the question, just watches Howard, waits for the sign of movement and darting to block and grab the kid when he sees it.

He doesn't even extend the effort in pulling out his knife or anything else for a makeshift weapon just yet, trusting that his superior weight and skills will be enough.

Between the ice and the knowledge that he won't get another chance to make a break for it, Howard doesn't slow down when he sees Alpha move to block his path. Instead, he keeps barreling forward at the same speed - and clotheslines.

Before he knows it, he's on his back, breathe knocked out of him, neck screaming, trying to twist around and get oriented before Alpha can get his hands on him.

Alpha's on the kid as soon as he's down, trying to get him restrained, bearing down with his bulk to keep him still and tearing at his parka, more to rid the kid of the protection it offers than anything. His other arm he tries to get across Howard's throat, cut off his air supply at least temporarily.

Howard ends up back on his back, Alpha's arm choking him against the floor, the fluffy ruff of the parka providing only a slight cushioning against not being able to breathe at all. His feet kick wildly and slide against the icy floor. One hand tries to get between his neck and Alpha; the other scrambles around inside his pocket, looking for the knife. He feels the handle in his hand, but it's knocked away, skittering across the ground and out of reach.

He's a very talented squirmer. He manages to get his neck clear and gasps for precious, life-giving air. It occurs to him that he could scream, but who would come? He's going to die. He knows it. He's going to die at the hands of his ally because he was too stupid to get out when the getting was good.

"Please don't do this!" he yells, not believing for a second Alpha's going to listen to him.

"I'm gonna need more of a reason than 'please', kid," Alpha mutters, giving up on the parka to try and restrain Howard's hands. He realizes suddenly, distantly, that he's hold his own knife, though he doesn't remember slipping it out of his sleeve.

No time to think about, and no reason to be upset either, so he goes with it, lifting the knife. "I prefer an honest working relationship," he says and it's a stupid quip but the audacity is apparently too much for certain people, because suddenly there's a wave of rage and determination flowing through him.

He flinches back, one hand going to his head by reflex, but he lurches forward almost immediately after, slamming the knife into Howard's hand. Handle first. "Kid" he gasps, but it's not him. "Howard. Take it, do you what you need to."

Alpha tries desperately to grab the knife back, to hold Howard down, but he can't move, his muscles locked so no one can move their body, looming over Howard, who suddenly has all the power here. Howard and fucking Paul Ballard.

"Please, please, no, no..." Howard wants to find a better excuse, a better reason, but what could there be? This is a game to the death. 'Please' isn't a reason, the only reason there can be is 'I'll keep you alive longer'.

He sees Alpha jerk, then the hand with the knife come down. He doesn't care to face death head on, so he closes his eyes, winces, hopes against hope that it's fast and that at least the blood will be warm against the freezing cold.

But it's not a blade to his neck that he feels, but the handle of one in his hand. His eyes snap open at his name, looking into Alpha's face, seeing not the coldness but some kind of frustration and hatred he couldn't have possibly earned. And he closes his hand around the handle.

No time to secondguess. No time to consider. Only time to react. He doesn't make a sound as he slams the knife between Alpha's neck and his shoulder, not knowing what he hit, not knowing if it's fatal, but knowing that it's enough that, combined with another kick, he can writhe out from under his former ally.

Alpha falls to the side easily, his muscles unlocking but that's not much help when you're rapidly bleeding out from a knife to the neck. He grabs the knife, debates with himself quickly, then yanks it out. This will only make him die faster, but that just means he'll be waking up sooner, go back to working on what's important sooner.

He rolls onto his back and stares blankly at the icy ceiling of their cave. Howard's cave now, and he laughs, short, weak and gurgling.

"Kid," he gasps, though he can't even really see if Howard is still there or if he booked it as soon as he was able. "I'm going...to remember..."

And he's gone.

Those last words are going to haunt Howard for years. As soon as he figured out Alpha wouldn't be getting up and getting him - although Howard thought he might pull a Terminator when he ripped the knife out - Howard leaned against the wall and sunk to the floor, wrapping himself back up in that protective, fetal position. It doesn't protect him from sounds.

He gasps for breath far too long for it to be from the exertion of trying to escape. His chest seizes up, and he moans as he glances up and sees Alpha's body, sees the blood pooling across the floor.

He has to move the body. He has to move the body. The machines will come.

He forces himself up, then falls back, then gets up again and grabs the back of Alpha's collar. Alpha seems heavier in death, as if even as a corpse he's spitefully making it harder. Tears drip down Howard's face as he starts to drag, stumble and drag, scraping the back of Alpha's head against the ice and through the blood.

He knew this would happen eventually. At some point, he and Alpha would betray each other. The strange part is he can't tell which happened first. He pulls Alpha out of the cave, leaving a smear of blood all the way, and starts to undress him, take the socks and the sunglasses and the warm coat that's so oversized on him. Alpha's bare toes look white and yellow and blue, like big human teeth. He knew this would happen, and that doesn't make it any easier.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I had to..."

And the hovercraft comes and takes Alpha away.

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