Arena 06 - Happy

[gamemakers]

The last few hours before the Arena have a strangely stifled quality, as if half the people they interact with are trying very hard not to laugh. Maybe it's the costumes, the fancy gowns and velvet tunics, the short capes. Or maybe it's their destination.

The round courtyard to which the tubes bring them could not be more different from the last arena. Though outside the circle of pedestals, disrepair and neglect has taken over the roads and buildings, the garden inside the circle could not be more perfectly sculpted. Every hedge is a smooth, rounded shape. Flowers bloom brightly in concentric circles of insane color. The Cornucopia sits gleaming and golden, and just in front of its mouth, a bronze statue of a man and a mouse stands amid the heap of supplies.

20, shouts the voice from the sky.

Aside from it, there is a hush. No flies in the flowers, no wind in the trees. It is a cool day, with the comfortable chill of early spring and noon's short shadows.

19 - 18 - 17

Outside the circle, behind the tributes on the northern side, a castle looms. Through its wide gate, devastation everywhere, but it, itself, is shining clean, glowing pink and blue. Opaque windows look down from the heights of it, as uncaring as every hidden camera the veterans know is there.

12 - 11

Music starts as the countdown nears the bottom, a whimsical, dramatic tune.

3

2

1

And with the final note, the gong rang out, and a firework shot into the sky from the castle's peak, bright enough to burst redly across the sky above them all. Let the Games begin.



((OOC NOTES: IF YOUR CHARACTER HAS POWERS THE CAPITOL HAS NERFED, make sure you are on this list.

And everyone really should review the arena post. Because there's a little more to play with than you might think.

And please remember to add your character's tag to each post they're in.))

Comments

[greatestdetectiveaward]

Javert looks a little amused at Sherlock rebuffing him. "And I suppose you could also tell me why I have a 'serious infection' for an injury I received not two hours ago?"

Then he winces as the headache throbs as it hasn't yet before. His shoulders shudder with a chill.

[alldeduction]

"No." The word was curt. He'd tried his best, and was obviously sore about coming back empty handed.

His eyes narrowed slightly - he couldn't see under the bandages, of course, but the flush was obvious enough. He shook his head. "John's the expert," he deflected, before glancing back down the street to triple check that he hadn't been followed, though his mind was furiously wondering if there weren't engineered infectious agents at work in this arena.

He wouldn't put it past the Capitol.

[drpsychosomatic]

"Apparently he got bitten," John offered, trying not to look too disappointed at the news that Sherlock hadn't managed to get anything at the cornucopia. "A tall man in his twenties with dark hair and blue eyes."

[greatestdetectiveaward]

"District 4," Javert says, holding the cape up slightly. "I don't suppose the description sounds familiar? It seemed to be the first way he attacked, rather than a last resort. He wasn't even restrained."

He doesn't know why he's bothering to tell them this, except that if there's a maniac running around spreading diseases through bites, it seems that people ought to know. Javert's always been fond of letting the public know about the threats the uncouth pose to them.

"Odds were not in your favor for retrieving anything at the Cornucopia anyway. Don't take it hard."

[alldeduction]

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, thinking. District four...

"There was a new entrant to the arena. Late on the ice. Seemed mentally handicapped." He'd lost interest quickly, and had never met him in order to verify his findings - he didn't trust the Capitol to produce unbiased reporting.

He looked slightly affronted at Javert trying to comfort him and huffed.

"Yes. Well." He turned to John. "It might be worth searching through the stores to see if there's anything left. A long shot, perhaps, but..."

[drpsychosomatic]

He nodded, indicating the doorway they were standing in. "I'd had the same thought. If nothing else, one of these might be a good place to sleep. We'd be able to watch the approach more easily- and I'd feel better with something like a weapon to hand, too. Even one of these boards would be better than nothing."

He pressed his lips together thoughtfully and looked back to the injured man.
"If we went ahead, would you watch the doorway? If we find supplies, I'll see what I can do for you."

[greatestdetectiveaward]

"I can watch. It seems all I'll be useful here anyway." Javert leans back against the doorway and sinks down, so he's sitting more comfortably. He doesn't know how long they'll be in there, but he can't much stand.

He doesn't expect they'll find water, either, because indoor plumbing is still one of those strange Capitol things he doesn't understand.

[alldeduction]

Sherlock pointed to the store directly across the street.

"The structural integrity of these buildings is in question, so I recommend we don't break open the door of the one that your patient is sitting in the door frame of," He said slightly sarcastically, already walking across the street without getting confirmation. "He can watch from here without us needlessly endangering him."

The bright red cape whipped up around him with the wind as he strode across the street, constantly glancing back at the cornucopia as if expecting something, before ripping off the cape in a single angry act of annoyance and wrapping it around his fist and arm. He glanced at the door for a minute, gauged its structure and weakness, took a deep breath, braced himself, and then slammed into the door with his shoulder.

[drpsychosomatic]

John watched Sherlock whirl about with a mild air of concern, breathing out slowly as he broke through the weakened boards. He gave Javert a brief nod, glanced up and down the street, and ran across to join Sherlock-- There was no way he would let him do this alone, even if he'd insisted on it.

"How's your arm?" he asked immediately, looking it over and deciding it seemed fine, turning his attention to the results of Sherlock's impact. He picked up one of the splintered boards, hefting it in his hands.

[gamemakers]

Dusty, acrid air spilled out of the gap in the boards, from the blackness beyond. There was no noise in there, no motion.

Once they moved in, there was the tink and rattle of coins spilled underfoot, and shadowy boxes to all side, most of them ornamented with chipped silvery trim. A leering face loomed in one, leaning horribly towards the glass front.

[alldeduction]

"Fine," He answered immediately, without even looking at it.

Sherlock made a small face at the dust and pulled a couple more boards loose to make a gap big enough for them to fit through. He pushed a few of the coins with his foot but they were absolutely useless in the context they found themselves in...

Or mostly. Almost unconsciously he ducked down and put a couple in his pocket. Weeks on the ice made him a little more stringent about available objects, and even a few coins between fingers could make a punch that much more weighted.

"Check the boxes," Sherlock said, glancing at the one with a leering face before making his way further into the store.

[drpsychosomatic]

"You know, this almost feels like home," he commented, grimacing as he picked his way over to the boxes, poking at the coins underfoot with his board. "Creepy, abandoned buildings, looking for things without having a clue what we're looking for, people trying to kill us..."

They were a bit odd, these. He began to wish he'd gone to Disney Land at some point- he'd have a better idea of what might be in the building.

"Was this some kind of arcade?"

[alldeduction]

Sherlock let out a slight chuckle at John's astute observation of their livelihood, but didn't comment on it. Instead, he simply said: "And a sweet shop," as he pushed into the other side of the store.

He leaned down over some shelves and brushed a finger against one, only to pull away with a wrinkled nose. "Though it hasn't had sweets for a very, very long time."

He walked back over to the arcade and used the torn off cape to brush the dust off of the glass in order to reveal the decayed puppet behind it, and her dusty crystal ball.

[drpsychosomatic]

John brushed dust off one of what seemed to be a collection of penny arcade machines and slowly made the connection in his brain. Coin slots on the machines, coins on the floor...
He stooped down and collected a handful.

"Do you think any of these still work?" He asked, half to himself, fitting a coin into the slot closest to him.

[gamemakers]

It started up with a clockwork whirr, flickering yellow light suddenly coming from the eyepiece, despite the fact that nothing else in the building seemed to have power.

And should either of them look into the eyepiece:

The image inside moved with the quick jerkiness of a very old film, black and white and jumpy, and there was no sound. Instead, there were two children; One a boy no older than thirteen, the other, a girl nearing adulthood. First, they were on a stage, each pictured with an unfamiliar man who grinned and grinned. And then there was a hand-lettered card.

Alonzo Wild(11)
vs
Sandra Hull(4)

It lingered a few moments, and then flashed to a scene of the two both running, side by side, down the street just outside the building the two men had broken into. The castle was obvious in the background. In that same quick jerkiness, the camera pulled back, revealing the sword that the two were racing to get. The girl beat the boy to it by a hands-breadth, and that was enough. One swing, horribly in its silence except for the whirring of the Nickleodeon, was all it took. Sandra had to struggle to free the blade from the dying boy's ribs, and then she ran. The camera didn't follow her. It lingered on Alonzo's scared young face, and then swung away across the blood he'd left sprayed across the bricks before the view went black.

The machinery clicked down to a stop, and the light went out with a pop like a dying bulb.

[alldeduction]

"Really? You're going to stop for--" But he was cut off as John started up the machine. With a roll of his eyes he surveyed the rest of the room, being careful to leave no stone unturned. But he was coming up disappointingly empty handed.

As he heard the machine shudder to a stop, he called out, without looking back: "Well? Feel entertained?"

[drpsychosomatic]

John had indeed looked, once he'd worked out what was going on. He straightened up, looking back over to Sherlock with a perplexed, thoughtful expression.

"Sherlock... I think- I think you might want to take a look at this. I think they've been doing these Games for a lot longer than I thought, and- it's possible they used this Arena before, too."

He didn't mention the sick feeling of revulsion at having just watched a child cut down. It was obvious- and, as Sherlock was keen on reminding him, caring didn't solve cases.

[alldeduction]

"At least seventy-five years," Sherlock said as he stepped over - obviously unconvinced that the device would hold anything of interest. Despite that, he leaned down and watched the whole video before making a face and pulling away.

"I wasn't aware they re-used arenas. We're even less likely to find anything here that wasn't planted. I suggest we move on."

[drpsychosomatic]

"Shouldn't we try these first?" he asked, gesturing to the other machines. "If everything's planted, wouldn't it be planted for a reason- including the coins? Maybe one of these could give us an idea of what they've put in the rest of the Arena."

Not that he was too excited at the prospect of watching old grainy footage of children being slaughtered, of course. He pursed his lips thoughtfully.

[alldeduction]

"It's almost cute that you expect anything they plant to help us," Sherlock said with that touch of bitterness that only a dead end could give him. However, he couldn't exactly argue the point, no matter how annoyed he was.

He petulantly leaned down, grabbed a few coins, and dropped them into the next machine.

[gamemakers]

The next one was much the same in quality, this camera floating high above a Cornucopia, gleaming even in black and white. It was set under the gate of the familiar-looking castle, and the battle around it was fierce, perhaps eighteen kids fighting fiercely over a handful of weapons. Some of them were vicious, and it gave them a clear advantage. The little show went on and on this time, as the vicious ones reduced the numbers of the rest.

[drpsychosomatic]

"They do want to help us," John insisted. "Help equip us to kill each other, at least. Last time people with powers had an advantage- why not people who do a little investigating this time? It's worth a try, anyway."

It was entirely obvious, though, that they were never going to get food and water this way- not unless one of the films showed the location of a stash that was still useful at least seventy-five years later.

[alldeduction]

"No. They want entertainment." He pulled back from the machine before it had finished - knowing full well there was nothing of use in it, and his frustration growing.

"Anything given is purely for entertainment. Don't confuse it with help." A small bit of rage broke into his expression as he turned to face John. "They think it's more thrilling to watch a man cut in two by a sword that can't exist than to actually allow anything fair."

The voice was cut glass - sharp, pointed and cold. The heat of the rage was entirely in his eyes, a rage that brewed so far below the surface it usually could not be seen but that the Arena's and their inherent impossibility had been driving into him.

None of that rage came from watching children murder each other. After all, children were merely younger humans - fully capable of the same twisted motives and desperate measures of their older counterparts. Murder was murder no matter the age group. No, the rage was for the twisting of physics, for his own resurrection, for the conceit of bringing John, for the attempt to control him, for the assumption that if pushed hard enough he would become just like everyone else here. Desperate, monstrous, and alone.

[drpsychosomatic]

John watched Sherlock's face, obvious concern swimming behind the careful determination in his eyes. He'd known the indecipherable nature of the predicament they found themselves in had been preying on the detective's mind from before he'd been brought to join him- that wasn't hard to deduce- but the rage boiling under the surface reminded John all too clearly of Sherlock's reaction to having seen the impossible during the H.O.U.N.D. case. Living so constantly with events that defied reason must be eating away at him.

"All right," he said, carefully. "I'm not saying there's anything altruistic going on here, I just mean that it seems like anything planted here is to make watching the games more interesting- and like you said, they want to watch us kill each other. If you think this is all useless, then let's go somewhere else."

[alldeduction]

"I think these," He said, with a wave at the infuriating machines, "are useless. We'll try next door. There has to be something in this god forsaken place."