Oh my love, I know you are the Candy Man

[gamemakers]

Although the mood in the Capitol is...taut, once the Tributes are in the transportation craft, things seem to lighten. The peacekeepers almost seem jovial - as jovial as peacekeepers ever seem. About half the Tributes are checked over and given an injection into their tracking device.

In the underground room, the stylists have all their prep teams running busy, dressing up the tributes in bright costumes, chatting with each other, clearly excited to have so much freedom over what their Tributes are wearing in. Each one is dressed in a personalized costume, elaborate, and entirely soft.

Finally the Tributes are placed on their pedestals and sent on up, all gussied up.

25 - 24 - 23

The light is blinding for a moment, before the candy-colored world around them comes into focus. And it's not just candy-colored - it is actually candy. Some Tributes might be reminded of the game Candy Land, if it was something in their home world. Music plays, scarily cute animals roam, and every thing just looks so gosh-darn happy.

20 - 19 - 18 - 17 - 16

The Cornucopia sits, candy-striped itself, and over-flowing with a generous bounty of food, weapons, and supplies. Even these all reflect the nature of the arena, brightly-colored, and cheerful-looking, just begging to be gathered up.

11- 10 - 9 - 8

They've all been warned not to step off their pedestal early. But as the final number ticks off, those Tributes that had their tracking devices adjusted in the transport suddenly feel a sting starting in their arms. A slightly diluted version of what Ariadne was given the day before is dumped in their veins.

The dilution doesn't help them, of course; it just causes the poison to take effect more slowly.

5 - 4

3

2

1

Go.

The burning is starting for half of them, spreading through their body, lighting their nerves on fire. Within 10 minutes it's effecting their motor skills, causing them to stagger, twitch, to move against their will.

Those who are small fall faster, barely lasting 15 minutes in the bloodbath. The stronger and bigger among them might make it 30 minutes at most.

By the time the bloodbath is over, the Cornucopia is surrounded by corpses. Half of the Tributes have fallen without even a single competitor having to touch them.


[OOC: Don't forget the OOC Arena post, especially those of you running for the Cornucopia. Every Tribute must post to this post. There will be a Cornucopia thread, and anyone else feel free to post as you will. Please add a tag with your character's name.

Those who were poisoned are anyone in group 2. You will have a second post up shortly.]

Comments

CORNUCOPIA

[gamemakers]

[likewhatilike]

Mickey was shaking with rage. He knew that it could either help or hurt him, adrenaline coursed through his veins but it could make him reckless. It was a death match, he knew that, but he was going to survive for as long as he could. Even if he looked fucking ridiculous dressed as fucking Mickey Mouse. He knew that some asshole somewhere is laughing it up.

10-9-8-

He chewed on his lower lip as he looked around, torn between searching out Ian first or going for the Cornucopia for supplies. His decision was made for him when he couldn't immediately find him, supplies it is then. Mickey knew that Ian could protect himself.

7-6-5-4

He had to close his eyes, the land here as ridiculous and wasn't doing anything to help his nerves. If he was to survive this he needed to calm himself more, needed to get into his fighting mindset rather than randomly lashed out.

He takes a deep breath and-

3-2-1

-runs.

[gardienne]

Eponine was dressed gaudily indeed. She reached up as she stood on her podium, to try to drag her hat a bit looser. But no. Her stylist had used millions of hair grips, driging them hard into Eponine's hair, to anchor the velvet piece on. She was Aladdin and that was that.

Once on the podium and up in the arena, Eponine stared in astonishment. EVERYONE was different for a change. And - what was that land? Was it food? What were the animals?

When the klaxon sounded, she stepped off her podium and looked around uncertainly for her friends.

And then her body convulsed. As tiny, as starved as she was, the poison took hold quickly, and within a couple of minutes, she fell. Her legs wouldn't work, and she could feel her body start to shake. What was happening? She wanted to vomit. She couldn't. She wanted to run - but she couldn't drag herself up. Her legs wouldn't move.

Was this her punishment for running?

She began to scream.

[showbizpanache]

[Some people never change. Kurt can't help but double back when he sees her fall and scream, despite the fact that anyone could have a clear shot at either one of them. He hauls her to her feet and tries to get her away from the Cornucopia at least, closer to someplace with cover.]

Hold on, okay?

Maximus - First come, first serve to watch him die of poison

[gluteus]

Maximus had been extremely quiet since the execution, his mind slowly turning everything over and over again. He'd declared a private war against the capitol to himself, and was judging how best to enact it.

He didn't recognize the outfit they put him in, and was not at all happy when they used a strange machine to shave off his stubble. His stylist told him in a sing-song voice that it would keep his face baby-smooth for the entirety of the arena. He had only glared.

As he rose up the pedestal, he found a world that was so far removed from his own - farther than the ice he'd met the first time, and even farther than the strange world they'd called 'Disney'. Nothing about this world felt natural or right, and Maximus was stealing himself when he felt it. The tingle in his limbs.

5. 4. 3.

The tingle spread, like fire, down the vein of his left arm.

Poison.

2.

He had to find Wyatt.

1.

Run.

:C Beck will not be happy with this.

[amplifying]

Beck was already making for the quickest cover he could find, watertight bag fit snug across his back. He wasn't quite sure what was in it, but there had to be more than what he had in the last arena. It was heavier this time around, and it rattled every now and then when he took a bigger leap, or ran a little faster.

He was running past Users now, with horrible screams and sounds echoing behind him. This whole world was hurting his eyes, and he wasn't exactly sure whether or not he was running into a good place or a bad, but as long as those awful sounds were behind him, this had to be the best way. Any way that left you alone seemed to be like a good way here.

Beck shot past another User...but something seemed to be a little off with this one. He was staggering every now and then and stumbling, and there was something that looked a little unhealthy with him. Sure, he didn't know much about the User body (still. but he knew more now than how much he did before!), but he could tell something wasn't quite right.

Games or no Games, Beck wasn't just going to leave this guy alone.

He paused for a moment, keeping a close eye out for other fights breaking out around him, until the User got a little closer. "Are you alright?"

The Signless

[69problems]

The Signless doesn't recognize the outfit they've put him in, except to note that it's in his blasphemous red shade so someone must know what they're doing. As the podium lifts, he steels himself for something like another Disneyland -- but this is not that. This is not that remotely. They must have really listened in the interviews when so many people named the sweets and desserts as one of their favorite parts of Capitol life.

7. 6. 5.

The downside is he has no idea how to approach this sort of setting. It's too -- he almost gives a wry laugh as the countdown starts -- alien. He tries to use these last seconds to plan, and gets as far as 'get away from the Cornucopia as quickly as possible' before the stinging starts.

4. 3. 2.

He remembers being bitten by something that made his body burn like this, when he was still a young troll of barely four sweeps living in the vast deserts of the Alternian wild. He'd spent days in a cave, unable to move, and his mother had said he was lucky. He doesn't have that luxury this time.

1.

He's free, and he knows exactly where he's going -- in the opposite direction of the brightly striped Cornucopia. In this state even if he wanted to enter the bloodbath there would be no way he'd survive.

It's slower going than he'd like, though. He's small, and though he's blocky he's hardly a paragon of physical perfection, so the poison works its way into him easily. He doesn't get much more than forty feet away before he's in too much pain and his legs are twitching too much for him to do more than stagger in an awful meandering line. Blood drips down his chin from where he's bitten his lip so hard it's begun to bleed, because crying out and drawing attention to himself like this would be a death sentence.

[whoseesbynight]

Nepeta is, at least, familiar with the outfit that she's been put into. It only makes her miss Equus more, of course, but there's no time to dwell on that - or on the fact that apparently someone's be keeping track of the rudimentary shipping wall she's begun.

(It's not anywhere near up to date yet, of course, but it has the ones that really matter on it.)

7. 6. 5.

It's her first arena, too. She has no idea what to expect, and although she knows better than to get off the pedestal early, she doesn't think anything of the pinprick of a needle. Who knows what goes on with the tributes once they're released into to the arena; for all she knows the needle could hold something they might need in the arena to come. It's certainly bright enough to warrant something special, after all, and she doesn't want to risk embarrassment by asking after something that's normal.

4. 3. 2.

The pain changes her mind. There are enough venomous species on Alternia that she knows it for what is. They're poisoning them before they even have a chance to do anything, just like the other day. She doesn't know why either. Just that they are, and that there's no time to think about it. It's already done and there are things that need taking care of - if she doesn't have a lot of time, those are going to need to take priority.

1.

She doesn't head for the Cornucopia. She's taken down the Alternian wildlife with her bare hands before, and as long as she can count on being able to do the same here, then she isn't going to really need to worry about food.

Instead, she turns away from it, largely in the hopes of catching The Signless before he gets too far. Unfortunately, it's slower going on her end as well. She's more physically fit, yes, but she's not much larger than he is. She has some advantage in that Sgrub has a tendency to push people to their limits, but that's countered by the fact that Sgrub is legitimately terrible, and least in as far as bad memories go and by the time she manages to make it to where he is, she's starting to stumble as well.

So much for doing well in her first arena.

[drpsychosomatic]

Thanks to the events just prior, John had been feeling less than prepared long before he was dressed in a ridiculous costume, prepped and put on the platform. Once brought up into the Arena he felt no better- the over-saturated colours and the sickly sweet taste in the air almost enough to distract him from the tingling sensation in his arm, until it spread, shooting up like cold fire in his veins.
The injection, from earlier. They'd done something to him.

He waited for the countdown anxiously- and ran in the direction he'd originally planned on with Sherlock, where he'd wait for him, though the pain was quickly becoming hard to bear.

[alldeduction]

[directly after this thread.]

As soon as Howard was with Wyatt and therefore relatively safe, Sherlock ran. He'd taken too long, and he knew it, though he figured John would be relatively safe as long as he hunkered down away from the cornucopia. His mind was already racing over how he would manage to get himself killed, now. He'd planned to 'accidently' die at the cornucopia but distractions had presented themselves, and it was impossible to do so. Now, though, he'd have to explain a) having brought nothing back and b) figuring out a way to die while John had his back.

He hadn't wanted him to see it.

The weird pink ground shifted in bizarre ways as he ran, the tails of his naval jacket flapping behind him. Ridiculous.

kurt | ota

[showbizpanache]

[Kurt is dressed as a fantasy archer (with pants instead of a skirt, and without the bow), and is much more alert and focused this time around. He has no plans of dying this time, at least as much as he can help it. The environment is, to say the least, awkward. It makes him feel a little sick, honestly, if only because all the pink brings Rachel inevitably to mind. When the countdown ends he immediately runs, though he can't help but notice--

People are falling around him, sick and in considerable pain, but he has no time to figure out what's going on. Getting out of sight is the only thing he can do right now-- And find Blaine.]

Re: kurt | ota

[kind_of_a_nerd]

[Atticus is definitely not making a run for the Cornucopia. He's seen that footage too many times to even consider running into the bloodbath. He doesn't even take too much time to think about what he's wearing or what the hell is going on with his hair.

He just takes off running.]

[hasacondition]

Like usual, the gong goes off, and he goes off away from the Cornucopia, just doing his best to avoid the most bloodthirsty of his fellow tributes while he looks to meet up with the others. Last arena worked well until they broke them up, but there were fewer resources around here, and he doesn't think that would work twice either way.

The other guy might be big, but it doesn't mean anything for him now, and it's not long before he's stumbling, realizing that it's more than just paranoia and placebos. He grits his teeth, then glances up, trying to see if anyone else is feeling it, if there's something he can do. "W-wait."

[nightlightheart]

He doesn't feel it - wasn't one of the lucky ones to get the extra special poke in the arm - but he can see it. Everyone. Or, half of everyone at least, twitching and spazzing about. It doesn't take a genius long to figure out that the over saturated sugar sweet world is anything but.

Not that he can say he's surprised.

He can say that he's not exactly liking what he sees here.

The tribute count was in the 90s and 45 of them aren't going to last rest of the afternoon..... and his stomach drops. Because he catches sight of none other than Bruce Banner. And.... he's one of them.

"Shit."

Tony's already out of breath. Ruffled up, and a bag over a shoulder because it was there and he wasn't just going to pass it by. But he's there. And he has no clue what the hell to do, but it probably shouldn't be done in the middle of this psycho pit....

"Come on buddy, you got this."

[hangingaround]

10. 9. 8.

Redglare felt ridiculous. Being forced into a massive death match is one thing but putting her into a ridiculous costume before sending her to the slaughter? It was outright demeaning.

However upon seeing exactly where they would be doing all this she supposed colorful costumes were somehow appropriate.

7. 6. 5.

Her mind was running with plans as she surveyed the scene and her fellow tributes. Find Terezi. Check. Find the Initiate. Check. Find the Signless. Check. She just had to pick which one she should follow away from the Cornucopia.

Her arm twitched.

4. 3. 2.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek when the pain starts to spread from her arm to the rest of her body. She tasted blood almost instantly. Hah. Poison. Possibly the same poison used at the execution. Her eyes darted to the other tributes, saw the pained looks on about half their faces.

They poisoned them just before setting them off to kill one another. Why? What is the point?

1.

Red practically leapt off the pedestal and stumbled as she landed. Her legs felt weak and the pain was only getting worse. With her height and fitness advantage, the poison wouldn't kill her too fast but her weight would likely deter that small advantage. She bit her cheek again, this time spitting out a mouthful of liquid teal.

She ran from the Cornucopia, her steps stumbling and slower than she would have liked.

At least find Terezi. Ignore the fire in your blood.

Fire will not kill this dragon.

[carnagecarnival]

His breath comes fast and heavy. His teeth grind. His claws dig deep into his palms. The yellow surrounding the indigo of his eyes goes redder and redder with pain and rage. He too runs from the cornucopia (despite what she might have expected of him), and though he made no move for her in intention, their paths cross and meet. He near skids to a stop then and stares. She looks like shit already.

He meets her eyes but doesn't say a word.

Tim Wayne (Will die of poison)

[the_hit_list]

Tim knew before he got halfway to the Cornucopia - the sting, the tingling that started in his arm and spread with every heartbeat. Fact: He's been drugged.

The fray is already starting. There's only seconds to eliminate options, edit his plan.

Theory: They always dose the Tributes with something. He's never been at the start of an arena, but someone would have mentioned if drugs were routinely administered on the pedestals. This is new or a rarity.

Theory: Adrenaline. The fire's not cold; it's not adrenaline to give him a shove towards berserker brutality.

Theory: Immunization/Antihistamine/some other helpful, medically necessary drug. The terrain is bizarre - it could be something from this overall umbrella. But why delay it until the countdown?

Theory: Sodium pentothal/sodium amobarbital. The time for truth serums would be before the arena. There's no guarantee he'd live through the Cornucopia to say anything to anyone.

Theory: Narcotics - hallucinogens would explain the scene before him, the music - but he'd seen it all before it was administered. But hallucinating the Tributes as monsters, inducing paranoia, that would certainly increase proclivity to violence. Possible.

Theory: Poison. It's a death arena; what's the point of that? Particularly when they've put so much weight behind him as a contender with their little special. But maybe that's the reason why, the shock value of seeing a favorite go out in the early rounds. Unlikely but possible.

Fact: The Cornucopia is ahead, rife with supplies and weapons. If the injection was given to everyone, the playing field remains the same. But if not...

Conclusion: Run. The injection is a wild card, the affects immediate and still spreading. Pray the others have the same thought. Get to the rendezvous point. Overshoot it to sweep and find cover. Return in ten minutes, and hope that its not mind altering.

Tim veered off of the ring of pedestals tangentially, unwilling to completely turn his back from the chaos.

Dieing by poison, stop on by to point and laugh

[revvinguptheharley]

Harley is bouncing on the tips of her toes by the time she catches sight of the Arena.

Her oversized mascot costume seems right at home in this saccharine soaked nightmare world.

And even better?! There was music! Harley listened hard to try and learn the tune but a tingling in her arm distracted her.

7-6-5

Her head snapped to attention as she realized that she hadn't been paying attention. Where was Babs? Where was Brucie and Timmy? And Tiny Tim and D-man and Eddie?!

4-3-2

And Gal pal and Parker and...there were just too many allies to look for and-

1. GO!

Harley was off like a bolt of pink laughter bouncing from one foot to the other and...slowing down. Was it the oversized head dragging her back with wind resistance?

The music sure was nice and the sun was bright, but she was having trouble focusing her vision on the weapons and those blurry tributes...was that Ivy running for the bags?

The usually bouncy and hyperactive Harley took a nose dive as she tripped over her own pink hoof like boot and landed flat on her face. It was perhaps the saddest looking faceplant of her career...which was saying something.

awww, never a laugh!

[undercoverprincess]

It might not actually be Ivy running that way, but it wasn't Catwoman who ran to her side; just a friend who was dressed as her.

"Shit, Harley," She'd already grabbed what she could, most of it going into a bag, but she just threw it over her shoulder and went to her friend. Who was on the ground. Uh-oh.

"Harley, girl, you need to get up right now. Come on!" She shook her shoulder. What she thinks is her shoulder.

Death by poison! (open)

[polyturtle]

The injection was certainly worrisome. He'd never had to have it before. Did this have to do with Ariadne? If it did, why was it others - people he knew weren't Ariadne's friend, including that jerk who called her a...the b-word...getting it.

What was it? Why was it being injected into them? It wasn't...it couldn't be...

His stylists were mostly excited, talking, laughing, but Don himself was silent. He generally was during these moments, but there was a sadness, a tenseness to it, as they dressed him up like a dinosaur. Instead of his bandana, he was given a doll in a pink dress. It looked uncannily like Lottie.

And then he was on the platform. He took several deep breaths as they brought him up, the bright sunshine streaming in as he found himself in...Candyland? What was that singing? Was that-

10 - 9 - 8 - 7

Sting. Don's blood froze when he felt the tracking device inject him intravenously. He felt the shiver, felt his arm pulse. In an instant, he knew.

No.

6 - 5 - 4

He knew exactly what this was. He'd seen the symptoms in Ariadne, when she'd been forcibly injected. He'd been poisoned. Everyone who'd received an injection was going to--

3 - 2

He was going to die. Worse, the poison would trigger something else, too.

He had to get away.

Don had to run.

1

His feet flew off of the pedestal, away from the Cornucopia. But even at that moment, his body was starting to spasm, and his legs didn't go in an entirely straight line. It did not help that, inwardly, he was panicking about what he knew was likely going to happen, even if he stayed and died here.

Shell. Shell. Shell.

He just prayed he didn't run into Lottie.

[blondevigilante]

She has her hands full. Somehow she's made it through the mayhem with supplies and injury free. She needs to run. There's a plan in place with Tim. It's a plan that will help them survive that much longer. It does not include slowing down to help a giant turtle in a hilarious Bowser costume. She was at his side before she could talk herself out of it.

"Hey, hey, you're not hurt. You're okay." Because it was entirely possible the shock of the Arena was getting to him. That should be a good thing leaving her one less opponent. She really was too kind for her own good.

Dieing by poison, Get too close and he might fall on you.

[paidinbeer]

Rising from the depths, a new challenger had arrived.

Beady eye'd and over six and a half feet tall this broad shouldered beast was covered in a layer of what looked to be wet gravel that shifted with his every lumbering movement.

15-14-13

He would be terrifying, if not for the pair of fluffy white cat ears and paws that had been stuck to him as part of the cosplay.

He had a pair of matching cat paw boots, a tail, and even a red collar with a little bell on it. It was adorable.

Her looked irritated.

12-11-10

Truth be told, he had a splitting head ache. It was like the onset of a hangover though he hadn't drank in...he couldn't remember how long. It didn't feel like that long ago but days tended to blur together for him. They had ever since this nightmare of a second life began.

9-8-7

They had told him, if he killed enough people, if he was the last man standing he'd win and everyone would be happy. And it had been so long since anyone had really been happy to see Orc.

6-5-4

Killing was wrong. It was against gods will...

...but God had made it pretty clear he didn't give a shit about Orc anymore.

3-2

He shifted his thick stone covered legs just slightly and mutated muscles tensed.

1! GO!

With possibly the slowest start of any of the tributes, a woozy, irritated Orc lumbered onto the cotton candy grass and started towards the crowd gathering around the cornucopia.

He wouldn't even make it halfway. Before he stopped and stood, swaying in place. He felt sick. Like he was going to throw up or mess himself or maybe both.

The Psiioniic

[xanthous]

The Psiioniic wants to laugh as he's shoved into his costume. How could they know? How could his stylists have known about her? They even lengthened his hair with some bizarre strips of fake hair - even if it's still nowhere near the length it should be to be a proper match, and they added a second band of tyrian purple around his hips so now it mimics his sign.

He doesn't know how the stylists could know, but it doesn't make him feel any less ridiculous.

Though, not as ridiculous as the arena looks. He can't help but feel awed as he looks around the horrible candy mess. Some of the sweets he doesn't even recognize, but it's a colorful, awful mess and the light hurts his eyes. Trolls weren't meant to live in the light, and for a moment he's afraid he'll burn, that this artificial light beating down on them could rival the Alternian sun's strength. But he doesn't burn, and he doesn't go blind, and when everyone else begins their runs for the cornucopia he turns in the opposite direction. He's stronger than he was last time he was brought in, but he's not the fastest runner by any means at all. There was only so much time to get his muscles back.

Re: The Psiioniic

[carnagecarnival]

He doesn't stop running, doesn't stop searching. Not until he sees--

the Empress?

No. No, he knows those horns. They motherfucking dressed him as the Empress.

He runs up to the Helmsman's side and with a nod toward a cluster of candy trees ahead, he commands, "THERE!" And runs ahead on ahead, with quick glances back.

His hands are beginning to shake.

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi doesn't like the look of that injection into the tracking unit in her arm. She puts forth a question about it initially, wondering if that's standard procedure, but her concerns are waved off. Not important. Reluctantly, she drops the inquiry, but not at all because she wants to.

Her outfit for the arena is...new, to say the least. The skulls are amusing, but she's really not sure what sort of costume it's supposed to be. Nevertheless, she'll make due with it.

It's not until she is raised into the arena that the injection slips from her mind. From the get-go, everything smells amazing. She scans the other pedestals nearby for people she knows while the seconds tick down. She needs to find Signless, that is her most important objective, but it wouldn't hurt to grab some supplies, either...

She's just decided to make a run for a backpack as the final seconds tick down, when she feels the searing pain in her arm. Terezi winces and grabs her arm, her teeth just barely missing snapping down on her tongue. Her thoughts immediately fly back to the injection, and a jolt of fear runs through her.

They poisoned her.

There's really no other explanation as she feels the burning pain lacing its way through her arm. It's only going to spread faster when it reaches her chest. As the klaxons signal the start of the game, Terezi bolts from her pedestal--away from the supplies. She'll be no help to anyone in a matter of minutes. What she needs is to find a safe place to weather this poison, some place away from the slaughter. If not, she won't be playing in this arena for very long.

She's fast, that's for sure; but it's not long before the agony is causing her to stumble and gasp for breath.

[hangingaround]

There.

Redglare moved as quickly as she could manage with icy fire spreading through her veins. She stumbled more than once and nearly fell on her face. The pain was getting worse the more she moved. By the time she reached Terezi her legs were trembling so much she could barely stand. But she powered through it and wrapped her hand around her descendant's forearm the moment she was close enough.

"C-come with me. You'll be safer." Blood trickled from her mouth from her bitten cheek as she struggled to spit out the words. Even poisoned and in agony they're bound to do better than apart.

Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 | Open

[hi_there_aliens]

The moment he looked around at this arena, Daniel knew he was sunk.

Someone out there must have given special orders to his escorts to screw him over in as many ways as possible from the start. Daniel glanced down at his chest one more time, as the countdown loudly clicked onwards, accompanied by a booming voice. They'd shoved him in abody suit made to look thicker than it actually was, more like segmented and layered body armor than some of the costumes the other Tributes were wearing, and the furthest thing from friendly. No doubt playing up to that image they'd constructed of him as a cold blooded "bad ass" from the interview. And compared to all the bright colors burning his eyes out around them, the very opposite of camouflage.

Daniel stood, tensed, breath held as the countdown went into the single digits. He'd been through this once already, but he was pretty sure he'd never get used to it or the way his heart skipped a beat every other number. But this time, there was no talking down some people and this time the Capitol had done a number on his reputation; chances were some wouldn't stop and give him a chance or the time of day.

And some wouldn't bother in the first place. They would try to kill him. Get their rocks off on it even.

Daniel had to blink rapidly against the glaring pink. The countdown hit zero.

He bolted for the Cornucopia.

Re: Daniel Jackson | Stargate SG-1 | Open

[celebrityskinned]

Venus is living for this. When the Stylist sets her up in a Catwoman outfit - the classic one, not the awful Halle Berry one - she can feel her veins fill up with electricity. It's a new feeling, the actual physical sensation of adrenalin. She's spent so long without a human body that she forgot what goosebumps, what shortness of breath, what a hammering heart is like.

On her way up the tube, she closes her eyes and listens to the inner workings of human anatomy, the strange natural music of biology. It's meditative, a thirty-second reverie. Holding herself backstage before the adoring fans will get a chance to see their new darling die on television. Then she pulls the mask of the costume off and lets it hang down the back of her neck. The audience needs to see her face.

She's possibly the only one smiling when the gong goes off.

A little breeze catches her hair. It's the only hesitation before she explodes out of her runner's stance and targets the nearest bag. It doesn't matter to her that there's a man with glasses already going for it; in fact, that's ideal. She didn't come into the Cornucopia intending to die, or intending to run off with a bag; she came to leave an impression. She came to put on a show.

She'd be faster if she could still teleport, but as she can't, she runs and lowers her shoulder to slam into Four Eyes up ahead right in the kidney.

Sigma Klim (Open)

[futilecycle]

Sigma didn't recognize the character he was supposed to be cosplaying, though he realized it must be a costume when a semi-transparent eyepatch was placed over his only good eye. How stupid, Sigma had it removed during the countdown, clutching it tightly to his chest should it fall and set off the mines.

At ten seconds, Sigma feels the sting in his arm, and goes white. The gong rings, the third time he's heard it now, and Sigma hesitates before rushing forward. Dr. Klim's cybernetic arms, perhaps, give him a brief window of blissful ignorance before he begins to feel the poison's bite. But Sigma is old and the rest of him weak: he's halfway to the Cornucopia when the poison passes the ATB-blood barrier and his nerves ignite. The Doctor meets the candy-paved ground like lead, but the sugar burning into scraped skin is nothing compared to the pain leaching through his body now.

He digs his fingers into the sticky pavement and tries to stand, at first desperately believing it's his old heart caught up to him, as if he hadn't noticed the first symptom. In his head, he can hear the echo of Akane's voice: Three. Two. One. Chromatic doors closing...

Akane! Where was she? Sigma lifts his head to look around, hoping to find his friend he had lost touch with in the past few weeks. In his panic, he thinks he sees a flash of dark hair, a tall young man that resembles himself running by. Sigma closes his eyes and whimpers. This cruel drug was playing wicked tricks on him...

[lessthanelementary]

Neffa makes it halfway to the Cornucopia before he changes his mind. It's partly that, this being his second time, he's only acting mostly on instinct rather than completely - there's a part of his brain that sees Tributes start to fall, notices a distant spray of blood, and screeches NO NO NO NO NO NO with sufficient violence to bring his forward progress to a halt.

He feels like a target, with the bright-blue spots painted on his face and the ridiculous, ornate embroidery on his-- shirt? dress?-- glittering in the unflinching sunlight. He pauses only a few seconds, stumbles a step backward in the high, soft boots they've put him in, and then turns and pelts away from the Cornucopia - head down, arms pumping, breath already coming ragged, anywhere, anywhere, just away--

Sigma is an obstacle he didn't expect. He'd expected corpses closer to the Cornucopia than this, where the weapons are, and he sees him only when he trips over him. His attempt to check his movement, arms windmilling, heels dug in, fails miserably, and he catches a foot on Sigma's shoulder and ends up on the ground next to him, face in the sweet-smelling dirt. Oh gods, no no no no no get up Neffa-- but, wait-- He's not dead. Who hit him--?

"--Doctor?" It's not a hiding place, but two bodies stretched out next to each other is the closest thing to a disguise the Cornucopia offers. Neffa has a few seconds to hiss his question, to drag himself a little closer, close enough to see that there's no blood on Sigma. Are you all right is a stupid question. "What happened--?"

Alex Rider -- open

[luckofthedevil]

This is what you get for even the tiniest bit of complacency. Alex had thought he was in the clear, at least for a little while, when he'd been passed over with the cuffs. But the moment he feels the prick on his arm, he wonders if he'd been wrong.

"According to your medical report you're a little run down. The doctor has suggested a vitamin booster. That's all this is. You're not going to tell me you're afraid of a little prick?"

Yes, he is afraid of a little prick. Because the last time he'd gotten one, he'd ended up in Kenya, dangling over a river full of crocodiles. Any amusement he'd had when his prep team had presented his costume is long, long gone.

As the countdown finally reaches zero, Alex bolts from his pedestal. He can already feel the pain starting to burn its way up his arm. Spotting a few others who aren't getting off to good starts, Alex feels his stomach clench. Forget the Cornucopia, he has to get away from here. Sure, the adrenaline and increased heart rate will just make whatever poison circulate through his body faster, but he refuses to simply sit down and wait for it.

[deadthenred]

Bucky isn't the type to charge into things— or he was, but it'd been drilled into him that the smart thing was to hang back. That way people don't have to see you coming. This is the first time he'd been here from the countdown, and he didn't plan to run toward where everyone else was going. He planned on running away, maybe looking for a good vantage point, and hoping no one noticed him much.

Except the guy next to him maybe has the same idea, because he's running, too. Bucky catches him in snatches, from the corner of his eye, at first, but then it starts to seem like something his wrong. He's got two choices: he can turn around, and try to help, even though this guy could try to kill him. Or he could keep running. He's been trained to keep running.

But he doesn't. He stops and calls out, "You alright?" Maybe if he's sick, it's contagious. Better find out about sooner, rather than later, right? That's what Bucky tells himself.

[bratwonder]

The arena is ridiculous and his outfit is ridiculous and Damian Wayne hates everything (but that part's nothing new). The whole Cornucopia thing is suspicious to him so he's content to let everyone make a mess of themselves. He didn't need anything they had to offer him anyway.

It isn't until the Tributes start dropping that he becomes concerned, and that's when he turns back, deciding not to leave the area after all. He didn't recognize anyone in these ridiculous outfits, but he doubted these corpses would be here forever. He decides to try and examine a few before they disappear.

It's not long before things start to make sense and he's pissed. He grumpily makes his way out of here to start familiarizing himself with his surroundings.

up for a random encounter?

[tis_allgood]

Cuthbert already got what he wanted and left, but on his way back in search or some of his cohorts he sees Damian getting up to leave, looking mad. He grips his unicorn blade tighter but allows himself to relax before he crosses paths with this stranger. The last thing he wants to do is start a fight when there's more important matters at hand, but if Damian is going to attack him on sight he's not going to be caught off guard.

"Hile, stranger. If you have a moment to palaver, I would speak with you a spell. When we're done we may leave as friends or enemies, but I'd see us both leave alive."

He holds up his hands, one empty the other with the knife held upside down so the blade runs parallel to his arm. Bert knows they're enemies here, but he's already seen fallen friends with no apparent wounds on them and if Damian knows anything about that it's worth the risk in talking to him.

Poisoned!

[brentwood]

Do or die.

18. 17.

His heart's beating hard and he'd almost swear he could hear the blood rushing through his veins. He knows the costume is just fabric but it's like it's weighing him down all the same as if it were actual armor. Don't step off the pedestal-- why? What happens? Tim finds himself wincing at the thought-- it actually hurt to think about the next couple hours. His eyes are surveying the land. Modified environment. Cameras must be everywhere. They're all dressed like clowns, even if he has to admit his style is much better than some. --oh. There's Steph. There's... other people he knows. His peripheral vision catches the clock counting down.

11. 10. 9.

It's actually ticking really slowly. He's wincing again at a ghost pain the next second.

4. 3.

Okay, so the clock's counting quick. More time, more time, they need more--

1.

It's a frenzy. Some people rush forward, others back to hide. There are goods up ahead-- tickets to survival? Maybe. Yes. His legs are carrying him forward before he knows it. Then his mind catches up and it's an obvious mistake. Tim stops on a dime, feeling already winded by the sprint, and he takes a half of a second to turn tail and flee the other way. A concentrated group of panicked people eager to get their hands on weapons or the like is just asking for a blood bath. No, no, no, how stupid! How could he almost get himself caught up in that? He needs to avoid others. Because it's obvious in some of the company's eyes-- not everyone is against killing.

Try as he might, colors and panic (sure, he can admit it. he's just been tossed into a death match) make him stumble early but he regains his footing. His lungs are on fire. That he's been poisoned doesn't cross his mind-- only traitors to this government get that treatment, right? It's not until he takes a micro second to slow down and check for some cut on his arm (it's burning really bad) that he realizes not all is as it seems. He'd been blind to other Tributes before but now... some people are just dropping like flies. That that will be him in the next minutes is a fact Tim finds hard to swallow, or ignore.

Ian (dying of poison)

[wantwhatiwant]

Ian had no idea why his stylists had thought it a good idea to dress him as a na'vi, at least he knew what he was which was less than he could say for some of the weird costumes around, but he didn't like it. Unless you were actually a na'vi it was rubbish for survival, and he was blue, with bare feet and the tail attached to his loincloth would probably trip him.

Before the countdown even finished he had more important things to worry about, like the pain wracking his body. He had felt nothing like it and stumbled forward trying to concentrate through the pain.

Shion if anyone wants him before he dies of poison

[savedbyasong]

Shion should have known that it had been a bad idea to tell the stylist how he had gotten his scar. He had hoped that by knowing the story behind it, and what it had come to mean she would stop her attempts to change him.

Instead it had got him dressed like this, and they had injected him with something and now he felt sick. Sicker than he had felt before.

He barely had time to take in the arena, the other people, what was about to happen before the pain started. Added to the costume it was like Rat extracting the parasite from him all over again and he had not gone very far when he stumbled, barely able to continue. He was probably one of the first of the poisoned tributes to fall.

poor baby ;;

[undercoverprincess]

She'd made a few friends in the training room over the last few days, and Shion was one she was going to make sure got through this okay. She'd gotten her things, a back and a few weapons. But there were people starting to... to what, she didn't know. They were sick. She could see them struggling, like they'd been injured, but they didn't have any injuries.

They hadn't been hit. So why were they falling? Poison? They were poisoned? Maybe, it seemed like that was what it could be. But she saw her little friend start to stumble, so she raced over to him as fast as her leather catsuit would let her.

"Shion!"

poisoned!

[edsidlemirth]

Eddie did his best to keep his cool when they injected the tracking device when he arrived. He's suspicious of the second, and isn't too keen on the needle, either, which is totally a priority when being taken to a death match. But, he's well-behaved, fairly quiet, alert. Anything that happens could be important to know.

They put him in a tacky jacket made out of plaid flannel, and a clashing tie, none of it green, straight out of an old game show by way of cheap fabric. He's doing his best to ignore that, too. Nervous? Sure. This is some intense stuff, and he's determined to make the best show of it that he can. He needs to get himself some room to act, though. There are too many people in too small an area, and that is exactly not where he wants to be.

When he goes up on the pillar, he raises his arm to shield his eyes, trying to get a good look at his new candy surroundings as quick as he can, and he sees the abundance of prizes. That has "early elimination round" written all over it. He'll run away, go for a good spot, bank on being able to improvise and pick supplies off the lucky survivors. He can anticipate all sorts of spectacular trouble to raise with this bizarre setup. So much potentially useful giant, garish candy scenery! So many annoying little animals!

But there's that stinging in his arm. He attributes it to the needle itself, but once the countdown's up and he's off running away from the cornucopia, he can tell something is wrong. He is not a sturdy guy, but he should be able to run, damnit. This is So. Not. Fair. He did not do anything wrong, here.

He doesn't make it anywhere near as far as he'd hoped, before the poison fixes it that he can't make it any further. He only manages to sink to his knees and then fall over, near inadequate cover. Not fair.

[needsaprince]

This arena...it took Lottie a moment to adjust to it. The colors, the brightness, and her own costume.

But then the count down triggered off the instinct in her to run. And when it click in, she does run, quickly, glancing back toward the cornucopia, and the battle, watching for someone to come after here.

What she doesn't expect is a dead body in front of her, when literally none of the action has moved this way. With a squeal she goes down, right over Eddie's body, before kicking away from him quickly.

"I'm sorry, so sorry..."

Why was he down? What was going on? No one was near, was there other dangers?

Blaine's Reaction to Posion [OTA, but it will be short]

[mediumdrip]

Blaine waited for the countdown by looking around the area. He couldn't believe how pink and bright everything he was. He was pretty sure that this was even worse than the Disneyland themed Arena.

He's dressed in a purple and green outfit with musical notes for buttons. There's a fedora hat with a very exaggerated feather and a visor with a musical note. He even has on a red wig and makeup on one of his front teeth to completely the look. He tried to scan the circle of Tributes for Kurt, but there's so many of them now and with the costumes it's even harder to track him down.

When the timer goes off, he has to run back from the violence as he tries to find Kurt. Time goes by, people die violently, and still he can't find Kurt.

Then... Everything seems to go wrong.

His entire body starts to rebel against him. He didn't understand what was happening at first. He was just suddenly in so much pain and parts of him were twitching. He fell to his knees. "What...?" he managed to ask, confusion and a sense of betrayal clear on his face. That was the only word that formed though, before he cried out in pain. The convulsions started and he could do nothing more to stop his body from painfully and horrifically shutting down.

[and_my_pickaxe]

Lin had wasted no time at the Cornucopia. She'd grabbed herself a bow, a set of short swords, rid some other woman of the use of a limb and taken a bag, all within minutes. Soaked in blood and as comfortable as though it were ocean spray, the laywer marched with her treasures away from the Cornucopia.

On her way out Lin noticed with glee that one Tribute had tripped while also making his escape. She smiled, perhaps he had some food with him, clutched to his person or hidden away - she'd kill him and take it for herself, completing her supply collection.

She raises her sword with a happy hum, waiting for him to get to his feet, to struggle, to beg for his life. But instead, the boy is jerking, seizing, completely helpless on the candy-coated ground. The lawyer blinks slowly, lowering her weapon, and her eyes narrow in confusion and horror. He holds no supplies with him, he has made no desperate escape from the bloodbath: he's simply fallen and unable to run any further.

"...What the fuck?!"

Nikola

[ps_you_look_hot]

Nikola had no plans to run for the cornucopia. If he didn't have his powers, he stood very little chance of surviving that way. Instead, when the countdown ended, he ran away from it, but he had only gotten a few feet before he felt the drugs affecting his system. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he kept going, intending to get as far as he could in the time he had.

[cutshort]

On the other hand, Hyperion had made it to the Cornucopia and come fully stocked on things that would hopefully last him long enough for a better trial than the one he'd been through last time. Quickly enough, he made his way to its outskirts, eyes darting around his surroundings, bizarre and much too bright and loud for his tastes, but not quite enough to affect his judgment. Not yet, at least.

Catching up with a struggling man wasn't difficult. His familiarity grabbed Hyperion's interest, so he followed, quietly.

OTA

[morethathityou]

Callista's jaw was set from the moment that she was lifted into the Arena. Her outfit was a small halter top t-shirt with a red and yellow S printed on it. She had a small blue skirt, white gloves and a tiny red cape. While they hadn't changed her hair to blonde, they had gone through the trouble of straightening it to make her look as much like the character as possible.

She started at the Cornucopia as if she might go for it, but when the timer went off she ran off in the complete opposite way. Once again, her goal was to find a place to hide so that she could spend this Arena doing nothing. She did not want to provide them with even a little bit of entertainment.

Re: OTA

[splendid_roman]

Ian was supposed to have ripped off his shirt and trousers to reveal his Superman costume during the countdown, but he'd been distracted by the arena and the burning in his arms and ended up with the shirt hanging open and the trousers only on one leg. He knew something was wrong and headed for shelter where he could think without being attacked.

He happened to head in the same direction as Callista and, confident this was one person he could guarantee wouldn't attack him, he called out to her just before he tripped over his trousers.