thearena | Open, Death

Who| Sherlock Open, and Sherlock/Karkat/Cuthbert
What| A chance to chat with Sherlock before he gets himself horribly murdered. Threads already planned will get small set ups below.
Where| candy arena
When| week one
Warnings/Notes| horrible grisly murder and death. sherlock being a prat. the usual.

For Howard and Open:

John's package never came.

Sherlock's mood worsened. He didn't sleep, though he pretended to, and he didn't eat, even after he received food and water from Timaeus. He and Howard set up camp in the mountains and both of them acted like cats - sometimes there, sometimes not, though they checked every so often.

Sherlock had to admit to himself that John was probably dead. If he had made it back to the capitol, there was no way that he wouldn't have sent a package - and the Capitol definitely wasn't holding back packages, or he would never have received one from Timaeus. He was completely furious, though he kept his rage bottled up and blazing behind his eyes. But he'd promised John he'd win. So he would.

For Stephanie:

Night finally fell. Finally. Sherlock had lost track of approximating the time, even knowing that if he had, it would have been impossible. The mind was want to play tricks as it was. By the time night fell, however, he was too restless to sleep, even though the bags were starting to appear under his eyes.

So once he was sure Howard was asleep, he slipped out into the night, to scout.

MURDER: For Karkat and Cuthbert

John was alive. John was alive. The capitol had tried to fool him, tried to break him, but it backfired. Seeing John in the arena relieved him completely, despite how bad the situation was there. It gave Sherlock options.

There was no reason to stay in this hellhole anymore.

Sherlock wanted to laugh, but held it in. There were a few options. One, he could die and end up in the desert. Unfortunate, but at least there he'd be able to make sure John was set up properly, before dying again and getting back to the Capitol. Two, he could die and skip the desert completely, and end up in the Capitol. Then he could immediately start funneling sponsor gifts to John. Three, and the most unfortunate, was that he died and didn't come back. Always a possibility.

So the best way to ensure that was to go out with a bang.

Sherlock made a small package of what remained of his water, food, and fire starting kit, and left it next to Howard. He wasn't too concerned about the boy's welfare - his head wound doing much better - but he made a mental note to ensure him as sponsor gift as well, when he got back to the Capitol. If he got back to the Capitol.

He slipped out again before Howard could wake, and went out searching for his death.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I may not be able to see as well in the dark, but my ears still work." Bert tries not to pout too hard in Karkat's direction but really, this is taking away from his revenge.

"And as for you... mayhap I'll leave you a bit of hair, just around the sides."

He pulls out his unicorn knife and makes sure to move it enough that Sherlock can catch what little light there is to be had reflecting off the blade. Then he leans in and carefully runs it over his scalp, close but not shave close since he can't really see what he's doing in this light.

Sherlock scowls, and he doesn't have to fake it. Of all the deaths he could have found in the arena, this ridiculousness had do be it?

"Oh no. My hair. Whatever will I do." Sherlock said, flatly, even as a vein in his forehead twitched, watching a curl fall down to to land in front of him.

With a sudden movement he slammed his body in Cuthbert's direction, all of his weight, even bound head to toe as he was.

Even if all it did was make him fall over.

"Maybe you should sit on him instead, 'Bert," Karkat suggests, kneeling down beside the now prone Sherlock. "You're heavier and it looks like he's going to be a whiny little babygrubshit about things." He grabs a hank of hair and runs his own folding knife in, a lot closer than Cuthbert had it since he doesn't have to worry about not seeing what he's doing. "I can give him a closer shave than you and you can still slit his throat when it's time."

"Fine." Bert says, sitting himself on Sherlock so he can't fidget so much. "Give him a hairstyle that the Capitol will be proud of."

He winks and grins at Karkat, even if he isn't looking. The important part is that the audience sees it, since this is all fun and games right now.

"Oh excellent, a hundred and sixty pounds of child on my chest," Sherlock snapped, though his voice wheezed under the weight on his lungs. His hands, though trapped under his back, squirmed at their bonds. He was not just going to sit still and let them shave him like a sheep.

"And what exactly are you planning on doing with someone who would fight back? Play house instead of hair dresser?"

"Stab them," Karkat replies, freeing another hank of hair from Sherlock's head. "Slit their throat. Send one of Bert's throwing stars into their vulnerable parts. You're getting special fucking treatment, fuckwaffle, because you're an arrogant know-it-all sack of freeze-dried shit that humiliated Cuthbert and tried to steal Effie's boyfriend."

He adds the last bit in on a whim, although he's pretty sure it's true after what happened at Wesker's party right before all hell broke loose. And Karkat was okay with Effie, really. She reminded him way too much of a less creepy and sweaty Equius with rumblespheres and a pink wig, but she let him live in her suites with Signless and not on his own with the psycho brigade, when she totally could have kicked him out and called him an inter-district spy.

He's working on a sideways mowhawk thing. Like Tavros' hair, only going from ear to eat instead of front to back.

"Normally I would say 'shoot them'. But around here I might agree with my friend here. A good stabbing does tend to help a man calm down, or at least stop fighting."

He doesn't know Effie but he takes the news badly anyway. Any mark against Sherlock is something to take seriously.

"He did what? Well, any man who would steal another... man away deserves this much and more."

"Cuthbert was quite capable of humiliating himself that he barely needed my help," Sherlock said, though his teeth were beginning to grind, his eyes growing dark with each piece of hair falling.

With John being referred to as 'Effie's Boyfriend' as if he was a handbag.

Indeed.

So he decided to say something that John would (let's be honest) probably hate him for once he found out.

"I can't steal anything that's already mine."

He was going to be in so much trouble, later.

"Doesn't matter," said Karkat. "You still needed to be schoolfed." He glances up at Cuthbert. "How does he look? Ugly enough to die?"

Edited 2013-07-06 02:47 (UTC)

"He started out ugly enough to die, Nothing about his hair will change that. But I doubt he will forget this death for as long as he lives."

Bert pulls out the knife again and places it on Sherlock's throat.

"Enjoy your time back in the city."

And with that he slashes the other man's throat, trying to stay out of the spray of blood so he doesn't attract the attention of the dokidokis.

Karkat watches as Cuthbert slits Sherlock's throat. He had good technique. Admirable, even. Cuthbert, Karkat thinks, is very good at killing people. Any troll would be proud to be in cahoots with him.

"Feel less like a braybeast?"

Sometimes the things Cuthbert brags about he really is good at, and this is one of them.

He gets up from the body quickly and gives it some space, between the dokidokis and the potential for the Capitol to remove the body he doesn't want to stay too close for his own safety.

"Aye, that did me more good than I should admit."

Open, Death

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