In the desert, you can remember your name.

[gamemakers]

Who| Group 2
What| Waking up in the desert arena
Where| Scattered around
When| Several hours after the Candy Cornucopia
Warnings/Notes| Deathroll will be coming soon to check out this arena's cornucopia and find out who dies between now and next week.

Make no mistake about it. The bloodbath of this Arena's Cornucopia was brutal. Half of the Tributes fell, a jerking, painful death. It is the highest death count in one day that recent memory can ascertain. It is shocking and unexpected, certainly a twist as far as those watching from the safety of the Capitol are concerned.

But it doesn't compare to what happens next. Because the Tributes that fell in in the bright candy hell don't wake up.

At least, not in the Capitol.

Not this time.

The fallen Tributes' eyes open, one by one, as the trackers in their arms let out an uncharacteristic jolt to bring them back to consciousness. They are not in their soft beds in the Training Center. They are not even in the Capitol. Instead, there is heat, more intense than that in the strange candy land that they had been in. A wind picks up, swirling dust and sand around them, stinging eyes and skin.

Everyone who was cut down is spread far and wide throughout this arena, still in their costumes, perhaps a little worse for wear.

"Good afternoon, Tributes." Claudius Templesmith's voice echoes through the air once all of the Tributes have been unceremoniously awoken. "And welcome to the second half of the Seventh Arena of the 75th Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor."

And with that, they're on their own....

Comments

[nunpunching]

"You tell me to cap it then you want an echo up ins. You leafy, Drake. You just leafy." He shakes his head and wipes a little sweat from his upper lip. It's a good thing he is sweating, he thinks, even if it's making his outfit near disgusting. Punchy's used to getting his clothing all grossed-up - he is your prototypical teenage boy - but usually there's the promise of a shower every night. Not so here and now.

He continues to whisper, though, keeping Tim's reprimand at the forefront of his mind. He does not, however, bother to sneak - unless someone's hiding behind the bison, no one's within eyesight, and the heat is making him sluggish. "Heat's already doing a number up in the grey matter, dawg. Peeps ain't gonna be doing shit until the sun goes down. Anyone who tries to start somethin' either is immune to heat or too desperate to wait it out."

He quietly claps his hands together, and then wipes some of the sweat on them off into the folds of the puppet. "A'ight, gimme the 411. Who we looking for for allies? I got Topher Brink and Rebecca Holiday as my homeboys if you see 'em, both solid brothers but not much firepower."

[the_hit_list]

"I... Have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Tim says with a baffled look on his face. "I get it up until the part about me being leafy, but I don't think that one's caught on in Gotham yet."

He thought about the points that Punchy brought up, that most people wouldn't immediately attack under these conditions unless they were too desperate to wait it out. He's half right. Most will wait to find water. If Tim were less ethical, he'd be hunting Tributes like himself and Punchy right now. Strong and fit and popular, but too moral to go straight for kill shots. The desert will claim the weak. Then, when he was starving and dehydrated, he'd only have to outlast the other killers, who would be suffering the same as he was. Maybe more, if Peeta's suggestion that he would have sponsors was correct. That's how Tim would play this Arena.

"You want the full list or the highlight reel?" Because, at this point, there's at least a quarter of the field that he'd accept an alliance from with no argument. Granted, there's an equal number that he wouldn't work with if his life depended on it. And some that are complete wildcards that would be hard to let go of, and Tim might prefer taking the tiger by its tail. "My priorities are Stephanie and Damian. There's a half dozen on top of that I'd have an automatic alliance with, but at least two of them would be happier finding more defenseless tributes to try to protect. There's a younger version of me out there somewhere who's probably doing his damnedest to avoid me because: awkward."

It was uncomfortable for him, anyway. He could only imagine how he'd come off to his counterpart. He assumed it was like finding out that Dr. Frankenstein would someday dig up your corpse to create his monster. "I haven't met Topher and Holliday. I know their faces from tv."

[nunpunching]

"You know. Wack as hell." Duh, yet again, Tim. Get with the program. He listens intently as Tim rattles off what he knows about the other Tributes. He hasn't studied the footage nearly as intently as Tim has (he's been much too busy indulging in the Capitol's party life), but he does watch the networks pretty intently. He's familiar with Damian, and Damian's attitude. "Stephanie's that blonde shawty with the tight ass, right? Tight like fine, not like uptight."

He shades his eyes and points a direction. Might as well start walking.

"Look, I don't want to ditch no one out here who's possibly a solid. I been burned by that Aunamee fucker, and I'm maddogging Hyperion Crius hardcore, but other than that I think us a duo can ice up anyone who turns on us. We can afford to hand out some bro-ship to peeps we run across."

Whether or not this is smart - and whether or not Tim agrees - Punchy fully intends on giving everyone they meet the benefit of the doubt. From what he did see of the footage, the majority of the kills were committed by a few sick individuals, and to his pleasant surprise for the most part there weren't roving gangs of murderers hunting down the weak, even in the beginning.

"Holiday's a doc and Topher's a techie like me. Not useful for rumblin', but good people."

[the_hit_list]

"I'm not crazy," Tim says as dully as he can. It's hard not to rail against that, but it's residual bitterness that isn't from here or for here. It wouldn't even be relevant at home anymore, but sometimes he has a hard time letting go. "You..."

Did not just say that about Stephanie. Okay, it's arguably true. Inarguably true, and nothing that Tim hasn't thought himself. Hearing someone else say it and say it like that is irritating, and it's not helping his attempt to bite his tongue and present himself as he feels the Gamemakers want him to - they want stoic.

And he's completely failing at it. "Could you please not talk about my girlfriend's ass?"

[nunpunching]

"Hey, I ain't doing shit but spitting the troof. Not my fault that booty's fine." Punchy's grin is lopsided, too cocky to match with reality but perfectly confident enough for how Punchy feels. "No sweat, homie, I won't horn in. You don't got to get it twisted over this competition."

And yes, he does brush some sand off his pecs as he says that. There is no body good-looking enough to warrant Punchy's ego. No amount of girls responding to him with "buzz off" or "in your dreams" has managed to put even the slightest damper on his idea of being a regular stud.

"Just sayin'. All tens up in that shawty, yo."

[the_hit_list]

"She's an actual person, you know. Not just blonde hair and a skirt," Tim huffs as he walks along. What he wants to say and will never say out loud is that she is not just tits and ass. First of all, he'd stumble over it badly, and Tim doesn't want to know how the Capitol would edit that one.

He isn't very worried about Punchy hitting on her, because, if Steph doesn't like, he's certain that she will make that very, very clear. "She can make her own decisions. I'm not worried."

Not worried because they aren't really dating. They're pretending to date, and Tim cannot let the line between reality and pretend get any finer. It's already thin and blurred. Stephanie's a distraction already, and he keeps telling himself that it's because they work well together that he wants to find her as soon as possible. Because he can't keep her safe if he's not around.

"Let's just drop it. We need to find her and a few of the others I know, if we add Topher and Holiday to this alliance, because they are good in a fight," Tim said firmly. Christ, they were going to end up with a pack so huge. He thought of the fireworks in the previous Arena. How could he work with everyone and avoid that again? Besides... "Do you think a group of six or more Tributes is more or less of a temptation to other Tributes? On one hand, numbers alone would protect us, but we'd be easy to follow. Wait until someone wanders a little too far away to relieve themselves, whittle the pack down."

[nunpunching]

"Could use the buddy system. Ain't airtight, but also peeps got incentive to not off each other when it's going to be real obvious who did it if they do. Two peeps go off, one comes back or books it and the other bellies up, rest of the group starts maddogging."

Punchy actually pauses after he says that, all thoughts of continuing to jockey over Stephanie wiped from his mind. It hits him like cold water that he's actually thinking of strategies to keep people from murdering each other - not just people, but people he and Tim trust and handpick. He can't imagine Topher or Holida turning around and murdering someone, but he didn't think that of Hyperion either, did he?

How many people died, some of whom didn't come back, because he didn't take Hyperion out when he could? Was he naive or stupid? One hand holds the puppet, and he looks at Judy's blank face and finds no comfort there. He was a child when his sister died; he's supposed to be a hero now.

He picks at some of the skin on his chin, already starting to blister after only an hour, maybe less, in the sun. "Who's the other peeps you want? Helps if I'm not edgy around homies unne-cess-arily," he says, drawing out that last word almost comically.

[the_hit_list]

"The buddy system," Tim repeats with an emphatic nod. He's relieved that someone else suggested it first. It just makes sense, to not leave people alone. Preferably, the pairings will work out to be previously existing allegiances so they're not forcing odd, reluctant partnerships on anyone. Like Damian and anyone not used to wearing a bat symbol or carrying a lasso. Tim's not even sure that he would be a good buddy for the kid. Too much history. "If we have an uneven number, I'll volunteer to be solo. I can look after myself."

He would rather have everyone else safe, until they split off into smaller groups. Tim is wary of supplying the full list of people that he's looking for. Bruce and Diana can probably be safely left out. Diana collected a group of young Tributes that needed protecting, and Tim is more than happy to leave her to that. They can't turn into a pack of 20. Bruce would wander off, hopefully, because Tim cannot stomach the man getting killed for one of them again. It's like he doesn't want to admit that they need Batman out of the Arena to change what happens in it. No, it's not like that: that's exactly what it is. Damn him.

Eponine and Howard - Tim has made promises to Howard about them, and he doesn't intend on letting him down. "Howard and Eponine. She doesn't know me; she's his girlfriend. We've got a standing agreement to not attack each other or our friends. Also, Barbara. You'd like her. She's a cute redhead."

Sorry, Babs. You're getting talked up and matchmade. Anything to keep Punchy from bringing up Steph again. "And she's a gymnast, man. We're talking flex. i. ble." Tim hopes he's right about there not being a hell. He's screwed for sure, now, if there is.

[nunpunching]

"Whatever you say, homie. You know when push comes to shove it'll be me taking the solo shift, a'ight?" Punchy brushes his fingernails against his chest in a 'too cool' gesture. He won't take that insult to his competence; if anyone's heading off alone, he fully intends it to be him. "I ain't got cush with the two you're talking about, so when we get a chance to sit down and draw up some shit in the sand, we can talk about descriptions and all, how to eyeball these dawgs."

He makes a whistling sound. "And when you describe Barbara, you can describe all of her."

They take off for shelter, eyes open for anyone else along the way.