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thearena2013-03-16 04:55 pm
gamemakers) wrote in thearena2013-03-16 04:55 pm
Entry tags:
- ! arena 06,
- cassandra marko,
- clint barton,
- harley quinn,
- matthew "punchy" o'connor,
- sigma klim,
- wesker,
- wyatt earp,
- ✘ adel-makim-zalur,
- ✘ alpha,
- ✘ anna morasca,
- ✘ asha greyjoy,
- ✘ atticus bell,
- ✘ barbara gordon,
- ✘ blaine anderson,
- ✘ bruce wayne,
- ✘ chris redfield,
- ✘ daniel jackson,
- ✘ diana prince,
- ✘ donatello,
- ✘ dr. grey,
- ✘ dr. holiday,
- ✘ draco malfoy,
- ✘ eliot spencer,
- ✘ enjolras,
- ✘ eponine thenardier,
- ✘ gabriel,
- ✘ gaius,
- ✘ gavroche,
- ✘ howard bassem,
- ✘ ian chesterton,
- ✘ javert,
- ✘ jim kirk,
- ✘ john watson,
- ✘ karis needleteeth,
- ✘ katurian katurian,
- ✘ lady,
- ✘ little rock,
- ✘ maximus,
- ✘ morrigan,
- ✘ neffa a reyeth,
- ✘ pruna,
- ✘ r,
- ✘ rictor,
- ✘ shatterstar,
- ✘ sherlock holmes (bbc),
- ✘ sokka,
- ✘ some ovmennet,
- ✘ tohru adachi,
- ✘ topher brink
Arena 06 - Happy
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.
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.
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.
Music starts as the countdown nears the bottom, a whimsical, dramatic tune.
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.))
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
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.))
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
Daniel hovered uncertainly. There were still bags left; they had supplies, and he couldn't count on finding any in the Arena. And maybe he could try to talk some sense into-
There was a flash of movement coming at him from the left. Daniel turned. He had only a moment to take in the gore that had been part of the Tribute's face, the raw red of the empty eye socket and gash. It gave the man a wild look, which on top of the way he had his eyes on Daniel and the way he was charging at him, could only be trouble. And he was right on top of him before Daniel could get out of the way.
He braced himself in that instant, for the slide of a knife or something into his chest. A fist or an arm trying to go around his neck, try to snap it or choke him. Daniel fully expected the other Tribute to tackle him to the ground. Anything but what he actually did. The man collided with him, hard. The breath whooshed out of Daniel, and by the time he'd managed to get any air back, he found himself across the Tribute's shoulders. And the Tribute was running away from the carnage.
Daniel squirmed, struggling and nearly falling off the other man's shoulders, caught between a sneeze and a gasp of surprise. What just happened? Did the other guy just save him? Daniel hoped that was the case. Or maybe, and this sounded like Jack all over, cautioning him not to just trust in people like he usually did, the Tribute intended to kill him somewhere more private. Daniel tried to rear up. He pushed at his chest and shoulders. "What the hell are you doing?!"
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
Unfortunately, between Daniel pushing and shifting and Punchy's complete lack of depth perception, Punchy's foot catches on an exposed brick, and he goes down with an audible "WHUMPF!" that would not be amiss construed in bright colors with illustrative stars. Daniel's flung off his back, and Punchy's wind is knocked out. He groans, and quickly gets back to his feet, although his posture is buckled slightly.
He turns and sees that they're about a hundred and fifty yards from the Cornucopia. Only about twenty people or so are left, still scuffling, still struggling. No one's coming after him and his rescuee. The Cornucopia's starting to die down as all the supplies are stolen away and people decide to retreat rather than fight over nothing. A few chase after each other.
He turns back to Daniel and can't hide the despair on the non-mangled side of his face. He doesn't know if he should try and run back and keep helping. He's winded, he's lost blood, he's exhausted and he's only managed to get Daniel and Katurian out. He doesn't even know what happened to the little kids he saw on the pedestals.
The guilt starts to creep into his guts. He should have been able to stop this. How was he outright excited at the prospects of this before, if not for crushing naivete? He thought this was going to be like it was in the movies and music videos, all glory and sweat and perfect makeup, not blood and snapping bone and screams of pain.
He holds a hand out to help Daniel up, if he hasn't risen already. "You breezy?"
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
Daniel didn't even have time to muster up any kind of retort or feel offended at being called a sniffly white ass; the Tribute's foot caught on something just then. Everything seemed to slow down to a terrifyingly crawl. The Tribute went down. Daniel could feel right when he'd lost his grip. Then Daniel himself was flying through the air, his stomach joining his heart in its mad scramble upwards. He impacted hard on one of the concrete barriers, sliding down to land heavily on the ground.
For a moment, he could only sit there, trying to suck in air to replace what had been knocked out of him. An arm lifted out of habit, how bad had he been hurt? Cracked ribs, dislocated shoulder? He was in a world of trouble if he'd been seriously injured so early. The Discovery Channel came to mind then, and those gazelles; the sick ones that couldn't keep up with the mad dash the rest of the herd made when a cheetah or lion cropped up.
No, he was okay. He was fine. Bruised and winded but in one piece. Daniel lifted his head. The other Tribute's face was a mess. Half of it looked like he'd been through a meat grinder, Daniel thought. That and the despair were a souvenir from the Cornucopia. Daniel's eyes drifted to take in what he had turned from. The bloodbath was dying down, namely because all the supplies are gone. Some still fought. The rest had scattered. Several bodies lay very still.
It took him a moment to realize that the other Tribute had a hand held out to him. It seemed the other Tribute didn't have any plans at the moment to kill him, and Daniel was going to take it for what it was. If there was at least another person who wanted to stop the fighting now, there had to be some hope left.
Daniel clasped his hand and staggered up. wincing at the strain it placed on his bruised side. "...What?" Breezy- Oh. "Er, yes, I'm fine. But you're not; we need to take care of your wounds."
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
eyes areeye is just deceiving him from this far away. He has to turn his body all the way back around to look back at Daniel, given that half his field of vision is entirely obliterated."Good, good, that's dope," he says absentmindedly, to Daniel being okay. That's good. At least someone got out of that match relatively unscathed. Daniel doesn't even look like he's bleeding, just a bit bruised. "Sorry about the dirt-nap I took there..."
Daniel looks like a nice guy. Not a fighter, not a hero. A superhero would at least wear contact lenses and take some Advair prior to any contact with the wild outdoors. Daniel just doesn't look field-ready to Punchy, which is fine - every good hero needs tech support, or a geeky librarian to look up all the cool threats. A Giles to Buffy, an Oracle to the Birds of Prey, a Wade to Kim Possible. Punchy decides then and there that Daniel would make a good geeky librarian, largely on the strength of Daniel's glasses, which are hanging slightly askew but thankfully seem intact.
Then Punchy brings a hand up and touches his face, as if just now realizing that he's bleeding fairly heavily. As if just now realizing that that's his eye that's missing. His fingers explore his own face like foreign terrain, and he winces slightly as his fingertips hit sensitive open flesh, poke too far into the empty eye socket and find exposed nerves. He takes a deep, shaky breath, trailing his hand down to feel the cuts on his neck, then looks down at the bloody bite-mark on his bicep, that looks more like it was taken by a wild dog than a young woman.
"Nah, this is just some bitch shit. I'm chim. Just need to walk it off a little." Yes, maybe if he walks far enough his eye will just grow back. Awesome plan. A+, Punchy, good job thinking through the shock and daze. He turns back to stare at the Cornucopia, as if it's some grotesque spectacle he can't turn his back on for too long.
"Should we go back and bury them? When those homies is done with their grudgin'?" He gestures back at the last couples of people still scrapping, looking helpless.
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
"'Grudgin'? I think it goes a little beyond that!" Daniel's voice was sharp, rising a little with the fear and disbelief. His eyes drifted up to the messy cavity that had once housed the other man's eyes. The other Tribute was touching at his face, as if realizing the extent of his injuries. He's glad he can't see them too. He has to be in a world of pain as it is, and if he saw what it actually looked like... Something in Daniel softened. "I'm sorry, but you really need that looked at. That's not a little scratch. What if you go into shock?"
Daniel found himself staring back at the Cornucopia. Even as he trailed off, the last struggles died out. The last body fell to the grass and concrete and lay still. Daniel swallowed heavily. So it was over. For now at least.
"I don't know if we can give them an actual burial." Daniel had to admit after a moment. He leaned against the concrete wall, getting his breath back. The sneezing fits had died down, petering out into a sniffles. Daniel pinched at his nose to stop the sudden urge to sneeze again, eyes still on the bodies. This was so senseless, a waste of human life, and for what? Knowing and accepting gladiatorial games and games with human sacrifices as an element was one thing, and there was an academic distance to it. Seeing it for yourself, being part of it though.
"But maybe we can give them some last words or some dignity, instead of..."
He didn't finish. Instead of being killed in a frenzy, nothing more than pieces in a game, the weaker part of a cast for an audience that demanded something more ruthless and interesting. The bodies lay sprawled out, some awkwardly, taken unawares, some with their limbs twisted in agony, while the others as if they'd just given up. The blood hadn't dried yet.
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
"Go into what?" Punchy's first aid class had been early mornings in his freshman year. He'd flunked it. He vaguely remembers something about shock, but the only memory it really dredges up is of watching a small pool of drool accumulate on his neighbor's desk. "I got this, I'm cool, I'm cool. We don't got no drugs or shit anyway."
Thankfully, Karis' bite to his sleeve has made it easier to rip off. Punchy tears it off and holds it out to Daniel. "You wanna help a brother out? Ain't much for an eyepatch, but it's better than giving everybody a view of the inside of my bean, right?" He gestures to his head, uses the edge of the cape to mop up some of the blood on his neck.
While they're dealing with that, a hovercraft comes from the sky with a hum and lowers down to the Cornucopia. Punchy stares at it in bafflement; he hasn't seen one of those before. It starts to scoop the bodies up into its belly and it takes all of Punchy's restraint not to run back to the killing ground to try and salvage the corpses, to do something for them. His face bears an expression of horror.
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
Daniel accepted the torn sleeve. It was splattered with blood, and certainly wasn't going to be anything close to sterile, which was what he needed. Daniel scooted closer, and began to wind it around his head. He tried to be gentle, mouth twitching as his hand grazed the exposed edge of the socket. Daniel mouthed a "sorry" at him.
The hovercraft showing up like some bloated beast was almost enough for Daniel the careful work he'd put into winding the bandage firmly around the man's head. His fingers stilled. A boom of a canon thundered through the air as it touched down, followed by another and yet another. It reverberated through his chest, made his teeth chatter for a moment. It felt close, but he couldn't see any sign where it might have come from. It was a set number too, almost as if it were counting...
...counting out the number that had died so far. The craft began to scoop the bodies up like so much trash. Daniel started to get up before he'd realized it, the work on the other guy forgotten. No, this wasn't how they could go out.
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
Punchy gets up too, although he doesn't run to the hovercraft. Maybe he should. He kicks himself inside that he should. But something about the ghoulish sight paralyzes him, and what comes to his mouth instead is whispered prayer that stands at such odds to his normal parlance. His Southern accent stands out more when it's not being run through the slang filter.
"Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them, may they rest in peace." It was the prayer they spoke at his sister's funeral, and it's strange and fitting that he doesn't remember anything special about that. He remembers everything someone should remember about a funeral, the burial, the wake, the prayer, the parents crying, his mother holding his hand - and yet he doesn't remember anything to fill in the picture. The memory is an inked outline with none of the color.
But he tries not to think about that. He digs his hand into his shirt and pulls out the hand puppet that used to grant him power and wonders if he could have done more if he had his abilities. He rolls the doll in his hand, clenches, feels the fabric in his palm and can't seem to glean any comfort from it. The hovercraft takes the bodies away.
He makes the doll puppet nod and whispers, in a high-pitched, quiet voice clearly meant to belong to the inanimate object, "amen".
He looks back to Daniel. "This ain't right. None of this is right."
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
Daniel held up a hand tinged with the other Tribute's blood to shield his eyes. Behind him, and it was jarring, especially after how the guy had been talking before, an almost droned prayer came out, heavy with a Southern accent. Daniel followed the path of the craft until it disappeared into the clouds. The wind settled down. All that was left was the blood and the emptied Cornucopia as any sign that people had just died. The clouds continued rolling as if they hadn't been disturbed.
He didn't count himself as heavily religious, but even Daniel echoed that "amen", though he turned at the voice. Daniel stopped short, wondering at the sudden puppet or the fact that the other Tribute's playing with it. Was he all there?
"No, it hasn't been right for a long time. Are you alright?" Not alright as in the physical sense. It was clear he wasn't, but Daniel's eyes went again to the puppet, uneasily.
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
Besides, his plan is partially to appeal to Sponsors through sex appeal, and if they can look past the injuries he has a very toned and muscular body for even an older teenager, evidence from spending much time in combat and strength training rather than socializing, sleeping or studying his academic subjects.
The other plan is one he decides to share with Daniel then. As goofy as he normally is, his mood is plainly serious, and Daniel solidified himself as a potential ally with the echoed 'amen'. Respect for the dead is only a single step removed from respect for the living. He didn't see Daniel fight anyone but his own immune system.
"If we can get to some tech, I got mad skills with a computer and shit. What do you think they'll do if we shut down every camera and microphone in this joint?"
One possibility is that it'll get them all killed, but really, in a deathmatch where only one can win, that's not a huge risk to run from the best alternative. It could buy them time, require a restart to the arena. It could cause a riot with the audience. Who knows?
"There has to be localized routers and shit for this many signals. If I find it, I can try to hack it. I'm thinking if I find whatever's playing those shitty cartoon princess beats, it's a good start."
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
And there went the Tribute's shirt, a regular Captain Kirk. Oh geez, the Tribute was pretty ripped. Daniel felt distinctly underwhelming next to him, and certainly the geek that Feretti and Kawalsky and even Jack had thought he was. Daniel tried not to stare. He failed miserably. The Tribute probably had a rock hard six-pack, biceps of steel, and was two seconds away from getting a sponsor to send him a gift of oil just to lather his pecs up. Daniel, somewhat self-consciously, tucked some of his bangs behind an ear and pushed his glasses back up his nose.
Maybe there was hope. Admittedly, the other man looked and sounded like he wasn't capable of it, but if he thought he could, Daniel wouldn't look this gift horse in the mouth. If they could shut off all the cameras- Daniel's face lit up, just for a moment, then seemed to shutter. Eva had said something about cameras. Even now, the Baron's words came drifting back, something about privacy and how scarce it was for a Tribute.
"I'm thinking there's not a chance in hell," Daniel's eyes drifted back upwards to the sky. Where were these cameras? He couldn't see a single one, which was probably the point. Still, he almost expected at least one or two obvious floating cameras or something, just to drive in the point. "I mean, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. I've been wanting a good piece of paper and pencil since I got here. I guess I'm old fashioned."
The archaeologist jerked his chin, ever so slightly, towards where the hovercraft had vanished, and hoped that the Tribute understood. If he could communicate with him that way, on paper, they could keep things more of a secret from the Capitol, about coordinating his original plan. Or better yet if the other guy knew any other languages besides English. Daniel was all for getting the Capitol's eyes and ears shut down, However...
Daniel hastily went on. "I mean, we could leave messages to the other Tributes. Or to our fans." Okay, that was hamming it up a little to include the audience. "I think I've got an idea how to end this already."
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
It's not even as if he dislikes Daniel, who thus far has proven to be a perfectly decent guy, if a little fixated on the fact that Punchy's missing an eye and bleeding anywhere (seriously, Daniel, it's no big deal). Definitely not someone cool enough for Punchy to hang out with regularly, and with a bit of a 'stuffy teacher' vibe, but a lovely person.
It's just that in the mental movie that is Punchy's life, there is no room for co-stars. Supporting actors, certainly, but Punchy likes to believe himself to be some sort of Van Damme or Sylvester Stallone; teamups are reserved for box office cash-ins with other similarly situated action stars, not up-and-comers.
Almost right on cue, a parachute drops from the sky. It lands and Punchy doesn't even seem to consider the possibility that it might be Daniel's. He grabs it up and opens the container, which holds a can of what looks like spam and the note a hunk of meat for a hunk of meat. Rather than looking at all disturbed by this, Punchy seems pleased and flattered, like both all his time at the gym and his brilliant tactic for fangirls is paying off.
"Guess my sexy body is makin' it rain." He figures it's also worth noting that the Sponsors only have a two minute delay at most to showering their favorites with gifts. Credit card transactions must be lightning fast, and it also means that this show is being broadcast practically in real-time. That means less time to edit away the parts the Capitol doesn't want the audience to see.
Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 (OPEN!)
He lifted his eyebrows, exaggerated and meaningfully, he hoped, trying to get Punchy to shut up. Why couldn't this be Jack? At least Jack could read him like a book practically. Well, sometimes. It was getting downright scary, now that he thought about. He could just say Jack's name, give him any number of looks, and Jack would pick up (most of the time) what he had in mind just from that. It saved a lot of trouble. And time. "Maybe you should respect the Capitol's property before they get upset. It's like throwing a rock at someone's window, you just had the good graces to say so first! Let's play nice, okay?"
And how to get Punchy to understand that Daniel was actually all for his plan. But they needed to communicate in a way that the Capitol wouldn't read. Daniel sat back, watching as Punchy landed his first vote of audience approval. All it had taken was baring his very impressive guns. That...probably wasn't going to happen on Daniel's end. He counted himself as not exactly frail or overly muscled, personally, but next to Punchy, Daniel just wasn't very impressive.
"Congrats," Daniel said dryly. An idea struck him. He only had to write a few words and hope Punchy got it. "Here, give me your hand."
I am so sorry for this tag and its contents.
As someone with an extremely keen handle on the art of reading others, Punchy, of course, immediately assumes Daniel is a hundred percent serious and advocating being respectful to their evil overlords. This sets off a spew of indignant nonsense. "Dawg, I don't got to play nice with axed-up jackwagons who spit a bunch of homies into La Casa de Killaz to get on analog! Shit like that's what's jacked about peeps today and it's rocking a serious whole in my upper ozone, a'ight?"
Then, under his breath, "damn The Man."
He frowns and tries to jam his hands into his pockets, but this outfit doesn't really have any, so he just slaps his thighs and scratches at the wound on his arm. He bites the bullet on the face wound and frowns, then hands the food over to Daniel. Whatever, he doesn't need it, he ain't even hungry; he just wanted to see if it would work. Besides, he's used to subsisting off a nutrition-free diet of Sour Brite Crawlers and Cheetos Puffcorns, so how much worse can starvation be?
Finally he holds his hand out. "No homo, right?"
no subject
He frowned at him, eyebrows coming together. Excuse me? Daniel took the food anyway, digging in, then after a moment, saved half for later. Chances were, the sponsors weren't going to throw gifts at him like they might to the other guy. "Believe me. You're not my type."
Daniel cradled other man's's hands in his, one hand nestled under the other. And keeping the Tribute's hand over his, hiding the fingers of his right hand from view, Daniel began to trace letters into the underside of the Tribute's palm with a forefinger. The letters were clearly written, slow enough that even the Tribute should read it, and pressed into the skin of his palm. S.H.U.T..... U.P. he spelled out.
"I'll pretend I understood a word of that. Sure you didn't sprain something on your fall?" Daniel pretended to look in concern at his hand. C.A.M.E.R.A, He spelled out. "My name is Daniel by the way. Since you saved my life and all, and it's better than calling you 'hey-you' or something."
no subject
He's still sort of sulking as Daniel starts spelling on his hand. Surely Daniel doesn't expect him to answer questions about his health while trying to spell, does he? That's just too much multitasking for one person. As such, he doesn't answer the question about spraining anything.
"Cameras don't pick up on sou- ohhhhhh." That only took him a while. Cameras, microphones, those very things he wants to turn off could be used against them. Duh. He totally knew that. "I'm Punchy. That's my legit name. Seriously."
This is, of course, an utter lie, but Punchy doesn't look even remotely ashamed to commit to it.
no subject
Daniel winced before he could help it. Did Punchy have this aversion towards thinking before he spoke? It would explain a lot if he did! Punchy - and really, that was his name? His parents had a sense of humor or maybe a sixth sense. He doubted it. No parent was that cruel. Daniel didn't want to punch him. What he did want to do was give into the urge to bury his own face in his hands. He'd never met anyone before who took so long to get with the rest of the class. Jack would probably take that as a challenge, but then again, Daniel was pretty sure that at least with Jack, it was all an act.
His finger traced out on his palm: P.L.A.N.....
Daniel took a moment to tear off a strip from his own cape, wrapped around his arm, then pretended to bandage the other man's wrist, mostly so that he didn't start raising eyebrows at only holding his hand. He wrote, more quickly on his skin. P.E.A.C.E... S.I.T.D.O.W.N.
Daniel had to free his hand. He was out of time to write, but he wasn't so sure if Punchy would get where he was leading with the sit down idea. Daniel was finding you couldn't be too sure with him. He said, very slowly and heavily, hoping Punchy got it; "So let's not play Games if we can help it."
no subject
But he holds his hand out still and lets Daniel continue with the communicating. He feels as if he's humoring Daniel, more than anything. Let the geeky guy with the allergies pretend he's the smart one and meanwhile, Punchy will try and piece together how he's going to save them all and lead a glorious revolution by hacking a boombox.
Punchy's view of the world is more than a little distorted.
"Nah, dawg, I don't need help with that, it's just a pint of blood. No biggie. It'll grow back once I pound down some vitamin C."
He raises his eyebrows at Daniel. Are you serious? Then he takes Daniel's hand back.
M.E.G.A.P.H.O.N.E.
Then, a comma, and M.U.S.I.C. He jerks his head towards Tomorrowland, which turns out to be a bad idea, because the blood loss has made him lightheaded. He sways to the side and grabs Daniel's shoulder to steady himself before he even realizes he's doing it. He digs his hand back into his shirt and pulls the puppet out again, addressing it rather than Daniel. "We might need some downtime, though."
no subject
"I'd like some," he muttered under his breath. So maybe Punchy meant to drown out the Capitol's ears with music while they went around talking to any tributes that would listen. Daniel drew back his hand the moment he was done, but not before giving an answering squeeze, to show that he understood. "I'm fine, just bruised. Look, I might not be that kind of doctor, but all the vitamin C in the world isn't going to help you, you need medical atten-"
He trailed off at the beeping sound that seemed to come from somewhere and behind. Daniel turned in time to catch the parachute coming down with his face.
Luckily for him, it only bumped gently into his nose, the chute itself starting to fold over his head. He pulled it off, and twisted off the large cap. His name had been written on the lid. Inside, was a strange gel and packets of what he was hoping were sterile bandages stuffed alongside what he was also going to hope was medicine. The note inside had been laminated. Daniel pulled it out. He unfolded it. Written in a flowery script that came from a sparkling purple pen where the words, For you and your newfound "friend", you make such a cute couple! <3
Daniel stared at it for a moment. Then he gave a very awkward cough. Oh, this wasn't off to a good start, but at least he knew that he had at least one sponsor. Quickly, he started to fold the letter away before Punchy could get a good look at it.
"I think someone's sent me some medicine."
no subject
Punchy's about to continue to dramatically stiff-upper-lip through his injury when another container comes down, this one for Daniel. Punchy's actually a little surprised. His ego doesn't allow much room for acknowledging that other people can have fans too. He hopes that whatever Sponsor is out there knows the grievous blow they've dealt to his self-esteem here.
He straightens up again and tries to steady himself, swaying against slightly but keeping his footing. He makes the puppet nod at himself, as if approving of the effort.
"You can keep it. You got a...thing." He gestures to a slight scrape on Daniel's elbow. Clearly as pressing an issue. He's not going to lower himself to using some other homie's medicine, especially after he already halfway slumped on them like a sack of wangsta potatoes. He doesn't even seem to take much interest in the note.
"I gotta get my ass to Tomorrowland. My best hours is at night. Can't get jack shit done once the sun comes out." And if anything requires an all-nighter, it's breaking your way out of an insane murder game.
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And with that, Daniel practically pushed the canister into Punchy's hands, jaw set. This wasn't the time for being polite or for Punchy to try and "walk off" that injury. If they were to get the plan going, both of them needed to be in as good a shape as possible.
"It might be safer for you that way; less chance of Tributes out at night." The fact that Punchy was serious about needing to rush over to Tomorrowland gave the entire thing a surreal quality. "I'm going to see about finding other Tributes, seeing if any will listen while you do that."
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"Good luck, dawg. Make the OG's proud." He flashes a gang sign at Daniel and sets off, limping only slightly from his tumble earlier.