thearena | The Sound That's Counted So Many Days [Open]

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The Sound That's Counted So Many Days [Open]

WHO| Howard and OPEN
WHAT| Boobytraps all up in here.
WHERE| Thunder Mountain (Frontierland)
WHEN| Week 4
WARNINGS/NOTES| None yet.

Thunder Mountain is a death trap. Howard's made it that way. A few people, like Wyatt, know how to get past the precautions Howard's set up, but otherwise it's a rather ingenious array of rigged boobytraps. In a way, Howard's actually enjoyed working on his 'security system' to the little tunnel he and Wyatt and R have occupied. It's taken time to think up, time that he could spend thinking of Eponine or thinking of dying or just thinking about the excruciating pain of having his body heal up. And then it's taken time to implement.

The bridge to the tunnel on each side has had most of the railing stripped out, and the boards on the track have been replaced by rotten ones from near the water. Pieces will fall out if stepped on. A few snares lie in wait in the darker parts of the coaster, ready to catch an unsuspecting foot. There are trip-wires, as well, some of which lead to bells or collapses of piles of stuff as alarms, and some of which tug at precariously-set coaster cars. It's not perfect, and many of the traps can be easily identified or won't work properly when tripped, but it's somewhat impressive nonetheless.

The tunnel itself has been made almost into a nest. Howard's been bringing back things from the gift shops, the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, and Tomorrowland pretty much every day. There are two makeshift beds for him and Wyatt made of ratty, moldy old towels and moth-eaten stuffed animals. A pile of netting sits off to the side, for catching fish. There's a firepit dug up, with spits made of sticks, and several thermoses full of water from the river.

Right now, while Wyatt's out checking some of the animal snares, Howard sleeps. It's a light sleep, one interrupted by wakefulness whenever there's a sharp noise, but it's rest enough. His hood is pulled up over his head, hiding his mangled face. The stolen souvenir clothing is so oversized it makes him look like a little grey and blue lump.

His hands clench around a stuffed Bagheera's leg in one fist and a knife in the other.

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Her hands fly up in a gesture of surrender. This guy is in a bad way and armed, never a good combination on a normal day. Steph has doubts that the Arena has anything resembling a normal day.

"Nothing! I was hoping to get a lay of the not so Magical land." She could disable him; he's injured and she's still healthy, but other than being afraid he hasn't shown himself to be any real threat. Crap.

She brings her arms down slowly so not to scare him. "I'm Stephanie."

He lowers his arm slightly, but doesn't put the knife down. He looks around, but he doesn't see Wyatt nearby.

"You should have been able to tell this was a camp from out there." He gestures with the blade to the mouth of the tunnel, the bridge she had to cross. "You hoping to steal?"

A strange little giggling hiccup bubbles out of his chest, a sound of fear he's been trying to tamp down. Keeping up a tough-guy act isn't just hard; it's impossible.

Steal? She frowns at that. "I don't steal, okay."

There isn't much light coming from outside, but there is enough to see that this guy is seriously injured. Steph inches forward as she takes off her cloak. "What has this place done to you?"

"Oh, even better, then you're here to kill me." The knife comes back up a bit. He startles a bit when she removes her cloak, not sure if she's about to turn it into a garrotte or reveal a weapon hidden underneath.

"I ran into some of the other players. That's all. That's all."

Her eyes roll as she keeps moving closer, tossing her cloak to the floor so she can sit on it. "I don't kill people. Come here." She tries to give a relaxed grin, but nothing about this situation is relaxing in the least bit. "Guess I'm not exactly the sort of player they hoped they'd get."

Stephanie's hands reach under her skirt and there's a ripping sound before her slip makes an appearance. "Okay, they get one point for overdoing it on the costume thing."

"Stay back!" Howard says suddenly, pressing his back to the wall. He grips the knife tighter as he watched her hand go under her skirt, expecting a weapon to emerge. "Don't- don't get any closer, okay? Just don't get closer. We're all on edge here..."

Well, he's really just the one on edge here, but given the state of him he doubts he can be blamed for it.

"Look, a lot of people say they don't kill and then they do it anyway."

Her arms go up again. This was getting annoying and more than a little frustrating. What was going on that people were so ready to turn against each other like this? Sure she had gone along with the whole training and stupid performance thing, but the reality was she was not about to become the monster they so desperately wanted.

"You're on edge, I'm making bandages and maybe cleaning wounds before you die of necrosis." Her look is hard as her arms come down again. "I don't kill. It's not who I am or who I will be no matter what they try and throw at me."

Unfortunately for Stephanie, Howard's had especially bad experiences with people who've offered to help him medically. In fact, the last one pinned him down and stabbed him three times before leaving him to bleed to death in the snow.

Fun, fun times...

"Why am I supposed to believe you? I don't even know you. And you don't know I won't just kill you."

"I'm Stephanie Brown. Born and raised in Gotham and currently going to university." She grinned up at him. "Undeclared, but I've got like two years to figure that out so I'm in no rush. My mom is a nurse." As she talks she tears her slip into even strips; if he won't use them then she'll save them for someone who will.

"You can try to kill me, but then I'll knock you out and leave you for someone else to find." Lies. Although she probably would try and knock him out if only to keep from having to hurt him more. "Do you have a name or can I make one up for you?"

"I'm Howard." His knuckles are going pale around the handle of the knife. "I just don't want to die. No, that's not it, I just don't want it to hurt too much when I die. That's all."

And the horrible thing is that he believes that he's asking for so much, far too much, in wanting that. It's as if Stephanie's speaking an entirely different language than him, and his only way to interpret the situation is that she's either insane or trying to lull him into a false sense of security.

"Do you even realize where we are?"

Stephanie remembers what it's like to die painfully and she really can't blame Howard for having a fear of such a death. She gives him a look of sympathy. "It obviously doesn't mean much, but if I can help it I won't let that happen, Howard."

The scraps of fabric are piled together with a few set aside for when she gets ahold of the guy. "Yeah, I got the whole death arena talk when I arrived. I even jumped through a few hoops for no real reason that I can see other than they needed a few giggles." She wants to blurt out 'TRUST ME, I'M BATGIRL,' but that would probably just make him really think she was nuts, plus Tim would make a face when he found out she blew the whole secret thing. Again.

She's clearly delusional. In denial. Or hopelessly, hopelessly naive. That's the only explanation Howard think of.

"It's not just talk. Look, maybe it'd be talk if everyone here was soft and cuddly, but..." He gestures to his mangled face with the knife. "I'm just warning you now. People are playing for keeps. People are having fun with it, because they're sick."

He's fifteen. A grown man held him down and twisted a knife in his chest and stomach last time.

She's Stephanie Brown, current Batgirl and professional optimist. Was it really so much to ask for him to give her a tiny bit of trust? Probably, but that wasn't going to stop her from trying to help. "I can handle that. Them. I also can see when someone isn't having fun with this sort of thing. I'm not tricking you, H, and I'm not dumb. I really did want to climb this thing for a better look and seeing you...I really do want to help."

"What are you going to do, smile them to death?" Howard reaches up to pick at the gash on his chin, then stops. John told him to avoid touching it if he could.

"Look, I don't know if this is some kind of like, personal agenda for you, but..." He cringes back again, into the wall. "Don't take it personal that I don't trust your first aid schtick. All you done for me so far is prove my camp here isn't safe."

"Kill them with kindness or however that goes."

Steph shrugged and stood back up, gathering just over half of the strips of fabric and stuffed them into the top of her dress. Oh, if only that little troll Damian could see this; she'd never live it down. "Don't sell yourself short on the whole traps thing. If I didn't have the training I do I probably would have totally fallen to my death."

It was more than clear that she wasn't going to get anywhere with this guy and all she was doing was wasting time. Fine, he could have his little cave back. "I'm leaving and I promise not to spill the beans on your nest. Use the fabric to wrap some of those wounds so you don't pick at them and if you run into something, well, I'll help if I can." If he'd let her.

"Yeah, good luck with that." Howard sinks back to the ground, though he still clutches the knife tight. He can't really believe the bit about traps when plenty of people here do have training.

"Look, Stephanie, I..." There's an expression on his face that's sad, yearning, almost. "I'm sorry. This is the way the game gets played."

Nothing makes him feel worse than feeling as if paranoia is akin to madness.

Stephanie look back as she turned to leave. "No, this is how you let them tell you it's played. There might be some who like it, but I bet there are more like us who realize this is crazy. Crazy and wrong."

She leaves hoping he won't give into this chaos again.

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The Sound That's Counted So Many Days [Open]

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