thearena | [open]

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Who| Suze Simon and you! (open post)
What| Hoping this is all some really bad dream, but starting to realize that might not be true.
Where| Main Street
When| Week Four
Warnings/Notes| None at the moment

Suze was sure Andy's cooking was to blame for this freakshow of a dream. Or maybe nightmare was the better term. They had said this was a death match. Only one person leaves alive. She'd had enough threats to her life recently for it to inspire a nightmare or two. She was only surprised it took this long for her subconscious to bring it up. And then what the heck was up with the post-apocalyptic Disney landscape? This was not the trip to Disneyland she had been envisioning.

And she wasn't even discussing the outfit they had shoved her in.

Not quite sure what to do, Suze had began a trek down Main Street. She had been there for a while now, and was wearing a steady frown on her face. Despite stubbornly holding to the thought that this was all a dream, she was beginning to feel both thirsty and hungry. She was pretty sure that usually didn't happen in dreams. At least not this vividly.

By then she had almost reached the train tracks, but stopped to inspect some of the boarded up buildings. Outside one storefront she leaned in, trying to see between the boards inside. "I don't like this one bit," she muttered.

Dream or not, she needed to find supplies. No way was she going down without a fight, even in a dream.

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Howard's inside the shop that Suze decides to break into, carrying a tote bag with Cinderella on it. He's already gotten himself a whole new set of clothes, ditching the white outfit they started him out in after it got unhygienically covered in blood, dirt and someone's brains. He's filling the tote bag with various things that might be of use to him and Wyatt - a snow globe (potential projectile weapon), a Mickey Mouse kettle (for boiling water in), a few pens so he and Wyatt can give each other notes.

His appearance probably doesn't do much to lay Suze's unsettlement at ease. His face is, to put it lightly, mutilated. Both eyes are still intact, but there are deep crescent-shaped cuts and gouges out of his face, and two patches of bandages covering that there's a hole through his cheek to his mouth, and that his lip is split entirely all the way down to the tip of his chin. The cuts on his neck and torso are mostly covered by his baggy Disneyland sweater. His too-long jeans are cut off above the knee on one side, revealing another bandage covered in dried blood on his thigh.

And he's holding a knife.

He hops backwards, away from her, clearly caught off guard. The folding knife comes open, and he points the tip at her, backing up against a shelf of figurines and waving it at her. "Whoa, whoa! Where'd you come from?"

Suze stumbles back a bit. She honestly hadn't been expecting to run into anyone, especially someone who looked as terrible as Howard did. Oh, and there was the fact that we was now pointing a knife at her. She held up her hands defensively and forced herself to keep calm. She didn't know what this guy was planning to do with his knife, but panic wasn't going to help anyone out.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't know anyone was here." She chanced looking away from Howard in order to see how good an escape route she had if things got bad. Running out the way she had come in seemed her best option. Silently she cursed herself for not picking up something to defend herself with.

"I just...they shoved me in here. To this horror-Disney set. Still hoping it's a dream, honestly."

Good, she's unarmed. She's still a bit bigger than him, but most people are, and she doesn't look raring for a fight. He lowers the knife a bit, but it doesn't leave his hand, which is wrapped in another bandage.

"Dropped you in mid-Arena? That sucks." There's genuine empathy in Howard's voice. He was put in mid-Arena his first time, too, and the basic lesson is that you have to learn faster than everyone else and have pretty much zero shots at the resources.

"I think it'll probably get easier if you don't kid yourself into thinking it's a dream." He hums a few bars of 'Dream a Little Dream of Me'. "I mean, it is a dream in that none of it makes sense, but it's not a dream in that pain actually hurts."

"Okay." She nods, somewhat relieved that he doesn't look like he's going to launch at her with the knife anymore. She knows better than to move just yet.

So she had to learn fast, did she? Nothing was making much sense to her just then, but at least that did. If she just had a better idea of what was going on she might feel a little more solid on her own two feet. She didn't like not understanding the situation. Sure she had run into some sticky situations head-on, but she'd never been forced into one like this. And if this really wasn't a dream, which she was starting to believe...then learning was what she would do.

"You know what's going on here, right? I got the fast and dirty version from the people who put me in this monstrosity..." She indicates to the uniform. "But I'd really love to hear some more details."

He shuffles to the side a bit and packs some Tinkerbell blankets into his tote, though he doesn't take her eye off her for more than a fraction of a second at a time.

"The details are that this is exactly what they told you. Just what it says on the tin. Eighty-something people in Disneyland killing each other until there's only one winner. Oh, and we got zombies, we got magicians, we got about eight different kinds of psychotic serial killer, and apparently, we got piranhas."

His voice gets a little high-pitched at that last bit, and cracks, betraying at once how young he actually is.

"Cannons go off whenever someone dies. I think...maybe thirty people have kicked the bucket so far? But they keep dropping new people like you in, so who knows how much longer this'll take? The last one took a month."

After Sigma's death, K had taken to hunting cats (sorry Sigma) and generally keeping to himself. The shops were things he was used to hunting through - and so far he had a fair collection of things he'd deemed usable. Nothing weaponlike beyond a board he could use as an emergency weapon, but bags and excess clothing he could tear strips from or otherwise wear were things he found and considered useful.

Simple stuff.

However, on his run today, he saw Suze. He didn't quite have hawk ears, but he had fairly good eyes - and he was at least willing to guess she wasn't at the Cornucopia. Had she entered like he did? Possibly.

In any case, he approached quietly. He wasn't sure what to expect - dealing with people who weren't Sigma wasn't his strongest point - but approaching a new Tribute couldn't hurt. Well, theoretically. She appeared small enough he could take her out, if she turned on him, anyway.

So hey, Suze. Behind you, he approaches - his step naturally rather quiet. In fact, if she's terribly unobservant, he might surprise her by cutting in with a-

"Ah, hello. Looking for supplies?"

Emotionless tone and casual, as always. K, even outside of his armor, didn't quite communicate with facial expressions as much as one might want. Or expect.

His age was actually something she was having a hard time discerning, given his injuries, but the crack was certainly a good indication that he was younger than her. She didn't like that one bit. It was almost like seeing Doc in this mess. She didn't mention anything about it though. Instead she started looking around at what was left in the shop. Maybe she should start hoarding a collection of her own.

"So this is...legit. It's real. We've all been kidnapped and forced into some sicko's death arena."

Suze had been concentrating on her view inside of the shop, and hadn't heard him coming. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sound of his voice. She spun around around, arms immediately up. She felt like an idiot for letting someone get the jump on her, especially with the information she'd just received before getting put in the arena. If everything was real, she could have been killed by such a stupid mistake.

She gave K an evaluative look. He definitely had the upper hand on her size-wise. Not to mention he probably had a better idea of what was going on and what he was doing.

"I was...looking for anything, really. Lucky me, I just got dumped here."

"Yeah. Like I just said. You think I got into some kind of tragic lawnmower accident or something?" He gestures at his face with the knife. "People here are playing for real."

It's tough talk, but his voice quavers. He's clearly not okay with any of this. He's clearly terrified and trying not to show it in front of the newcomer, choosing bravado and cynicism over looking vulnerable and damaged.

"Look, I already got all the good shit out of this gift shop."

Suze is pretty familiar with that act. She's used it plenty of times before. it was so much easier to fake it, then to risk breaking down when things got dangerous. She didn't like being called on it though, and she doubted that this guy did either. And he still had that knife to worry about.

"I can see that," she said. "So what about you? Are you playing for real?"

"Me?" Howard glances down at the knife in his hand. "People like me don't win the Games."

He's small and weak. He has no fighting skills. He shakes and gags and cries when he thinks about the times he's killed people. He's not built for this sort of sport.

"I just want to last a little longer, and then die easy. Fast and painless, I hope. I want to outlast the psychos here who torture people for the camera."

Not dying at all seemed like a better prospect to her, but his response seems sane enough. If it was the truth, anyway. But he didn't really seem like a liar. Suze had been a terrible judge of character in the past, but she hoped that wasn't the case right now.

"Alright. And how many of those psychos are left, exactly?"

"Three, that I know of. Maybe more. Probably more. The ones who torture people get rewards, so they last longer. People root for them. Send them presents."

He wonders how much Draco got for Howard's face. How much Aunamee got for stabbing him.

"You see a brown-haired guy with a white streak in his hair, avoid him. You see a blond kid about my age, avoid him. You see..." His face gets a little pale and he licks his lips self-consciously, trying to explain Aunamee. "You see a guy with reddish blonde hair, late 30's, maybe, calls himself a 'minister' or says he 'helps people', you don't just avoid, you get the hell out of Dodge. You run and you don't stop running."

She nodded and memorized the descriptions. "Okay. I'll remember those." It still felt so unreal that people like that could be just around the corner. And all of this was being televised? They were contestants on some sick snuff version of Survivor? Forget being hungry. She was starting to feel sick.

Suze paused and considered Howard's injuries. "Did any of those do that to you?"

"The blonde kid. Draco Malfoy. And um, he made my friend, Eponine, he made her do this to me."

He can't hide the way his voice cracks again, not from youth but because he has to swallow tears. He blinks quickly and looks away from Suze for the first time since they met, shaking his head.

"I hear a guy called Hyperion Crius, wears white, is supposed to be a nasty piece of work too."

Sorry, but...Draco Malfoy? Apparently some mentally disturbed whack-job had read a little too much Harry Potter.

Suze could tell that they were getting into a touchy subject area, but she pushed on. She wanted to know more. Needed to know more. "I'm sorry, but how did he make you do anything?"

"I don't know how he did it!" He waves a hand. "He made her do something, but she'd never turn on me, not for him, and he made her bite my face off, okay?"

Of course, Suze wouldn't know any of that. She wouldn't know the complicated personal dynamics of his bizarre relationship with Eponine and rivalry with Draco. He runs a hand over his face, careful not to apply too much pressure to the many injuries there.

"Anyway. You got a name or are you just going to be New Girl?"

Well that was an obvious topic switch. She wanted to ask more, but at the same time she thought it best not to push too hard. Hopefully she could find out more later. As long as there was a later...but she would make sure there was. Somehow.

"It's Suze. Suze Simon. What about you?"

"Howard Bassem." He finds a pair of socks with Winnie the Pooh on them and loads them in his tote bag. "Suze Simon sounds like something out of a comic book from the Silver Age."

He glances out the window. It'll be getting dark soon. "Look, there's safety in numbers. How about we cut a deal?"

Suze actually manages to crack a small smile. "It's even worse when you figure out Suze is a nickname."

She wasn't exactly keen on striking out on her own again. Howard had obviously been around the place and at least had a plan. She could do worse than that.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I'll give you a new nickname soon enough. It's sort of my thing." He shrugs, tying the handles to the tote together so nothing falls out.

"We stick together until I get back to my hideout. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, and if anyone jumps us we can both split and each have a 50/50 chance." Although Suze's probably got a better than fifty percent chance, since Howard's running on an injured leg. "In return, I show you where you can get food."

Suze nodded. It made her feel a little better to have some semblance of a plan.

"Alright. What about weapons? I'd feel a lot better if I had something to fight back with if I'm attacked." Not that she had much experience with any kind of weapon.

"Get yourself a stick or something, or make pretty eyes for the cameras and hope someone sends you something. I got the knife as a gift from the sky," Howard says, folding it closed. He has no intention of sharing with it, or parting with it for even a moment.

She wasn't really expecting him to share that. But...the cameras?

"Seriously? That's how it works? They send you gifts if you do something they like?"

"That's how it works, yup. Encourages people to go on killing sprees for food and sleeping bags and stuff."

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