Bruce didn't care for the color of this latest uniform - apart from the simple fact that it was pink, pink was a very visible color, and this was not an unobtrusive shade. At least it was easier to move in than it had been last time, and the fabric itself seemed to suggest against another frozen wasteland. And, even if the cut, color, length, and drape were all wrong, it was more comforting than he'd like to admit to have a cape again. Capes could be used as a weapon, if you knew how to fight with them, and that was an area that Bruce was very practiced in. The shoes, though fanciful in appearance, were practical and comfortable, and the tunic and pants allowed him to move. All things told, it could have been much worse.
And then he was being loaded into the tube, which opened onto a scene both familiar and radically different.
Last time he'd been in this position he'd been alone, there hadn't been a running countdown, and the cornucopia with all its wealth of supplies had been picked bare. This time none of that was true, and the arena was not a frozen wasteland, it was... colorful. Bright. And, beyond the jewel-like flowers and the perfectly maintained garden, ruined buildings stretched.
There could be something useful in them. First, though, was the matter of something useful closer to hand. Scattered across the ground were bags and cans. Either could be useful, and would give him something to work with.
He knew what was coming in at least a second-hand way, from watching tapes. The countdown would end, and all hell would break loose.
There weren't any weapons that Bruce could see, which was something. Hopefully less people would die.
Bruce Wayne (Open, will be busting heads of others tryin to bust heads if you're game)
And then he was being loaded into the tube, which opened onto a scene both familiar and radically different.
Last time he'd been in this position he'd been alone, there hadn't been a running countdown, and the cornucopia with all its wealth of supplies had been picked bare. This time none of that was true, and the arena was not a frozen wasteland, it was... colorful. Bright. And, beyond the jewel-like flowers and the perfectly maintained garden, ruined buildings stretched.
There could be something useful in them. First, though, was the matter of something useful closer to hand. Scattered across the ground were bags and cans. Either could be useful, and would give him something to work with.
He knew what was coming in at least a second-hand way, from watching tapes. The countdown would end, and all hell would break loose.
There weren't any weapons that Bruce could see, which was something. Hopefully less people would die.
3...
2...
1...
Bruce sprinted for a bag.