Tell me, why don't you kill me, and put a gun against my head

[gluteus]

Who | Maximus, R, Eponine, Sigma and maybe Wyatt at the very end (Closed!)
What| Maximus has decided that to keep R from killing Wyatt, he needs to keep him fed, so they're off looking for 'food'.
Where | Desert arena.
When | Whatever time it is right now.
Warnings/Notes | Death, Violence, Cannibalism, Gore, uh... probably a host of others. Nothing sexual though!


Maximus felt a lot more at ease, now that the days and the nights were their usual length again. He and R set off at dusk in search of 'food'. Maximus and Wyatt didn't speak about it, which at least meant they didn't argue. R needed to eat, and Maximus knew what that entailed, and he would see it done.

The sun was low and sinking lower, which meant that it wasn't quite as warm as it could be, but there was still plenty of light to operate by. No storm, though the sand still whipped across the dunes with the wind.

He was running low on water, saving his last gulps, his mouth and throat dry and parched. The skin at the edge of his lips beginning to crack.

He stopped, letting his bag drop to the ground, his crossbow with it.

"Hold up, R," he said as he retrieved the flask at his hip. "Need a drink. You smell anything?" He asked as he raised it to his lips, taking a single sip of the precious fluid.

Comments

[shambler]

R had the niggling feeling he was on corpse-sitting duty here - it was like babysitting, only with a lot more rotting and awkward groaning and he kept catching himself staring at that blur where Max's head was more and more over the days. His sight was shot by now thanks to getting the desert blasting sand into his eyes, the zombie having to rely more and more on hearing and smell. (He didn't have a problem zeroing on where Max's head was, even before he started talking). Another one of those creepy sixth senses he didn't want to share with the class.

Now he slid his eyes away guiltily, looking at nothing in particular. Something winked at him out of the corner of his eyes. Max's water flask, maybe. He realized with a start Max was talking to him, not at him, his reaction delayed even for a Dead boy. Talking seemed like too much effort recently, R giving up because his lips were mummified and it just didn't seem worth it. Had he even said anything the past few days? Could he still remember how to ride this bike? Suddenly he had to break out the sentences all over again, R trying to get his mouth in working order.

"Ss....ssmell," R's voice whistled out, creakier than normal as he concentrated. Seriously, he wished he could tell Max to stop smelling so good, for starters. As if he could turn off that Life rolling off him and electrifying the air. Flick it off like a light switch. R's head lolled side to side in a negative. "Only...you. Strong."

He paused, listening to the wind. Smelling the brush - Max - and feeling that weird rumbling again coming up from the sand and vibrating all the way from his boots to the back of his teeth. He couldn't smell any other Tributes because Wyatt's buddy was so close, a big neon sign blocking out any other pinpricks of light out there. Better come clean about this. Now or never.

"...Hungry," R added, his bony shoulders hunched as he listed drunkenly to the side. "You said...to warn."

[gluteus]

Maximus stopped, the flask on his lips. He lowered it.

His face hardened.

At least he'd warned him. That was a point in his favour. But not much of one considering how sluggish he'd gotten. Should have seen the signs earlier. Damn it.

He took a step back. "Any idea how long until you lose control of yourself?" Maximus asked, hand on the hilt of the machete at his side, ready to be drawn with a second's notice, the bag laying forgotten behind him as he circled around R. "Enough time to find you food?" Not that he knew where to get any. They'd seen neither head nor hide of a tribute in days.

[shambler]

R's shrug wasn't helping his case.

"I think...so. Sorry," he added.

He meant it. Or he thought he meant it. Did he? It got hard to tell the hungrier he got what he did or didn't do, R at least pretty sure he hadn't made a pass yet at Max if they were still on speaking terms here. R's blinded face turned toward the human again, following that voice, tracking his forehead despite the man being only a blurry smear against the dusk. His mouth worked as he struggled for something productive. Something to show Max he hadn't lost control yet. Something reasonable.

"Water...hole. Food?" R was prepared to shuffle off and put some distance between him and Max, oblivious that the last time he'd gone there, it'd dried to little more than a muddy puddle.

[gardienne]

And whilst the gladiator and the zombie talked, a dusty, skinny alley cat stalked them.

Eponine was hungry. Mona was hungry. And by now, she was eaten up with guilt about Alex's death as well - because it was her fault. She'd killed him. A murderer as well as a thief now.
So she'd set out to track down some food. Unfortunately, the first people she'd come across were R and Maximus.
Her eyes narrowed. That horrid man who had talked down to her. He deserved to be left without food... and would R even eat it anyway? Really, she'd only be harming Maximus...

She crept slowly closer, breath shallow from the intense pain in her ribs. One hand pressed tight against her bound chest, and in her left, she clutched the knife that Wesker had sent her. Would he be proud of her now?

She inched closer and closer. There was no place much to hide; she'd have to be quick. That made her smile ruefully. Eponine couldn't run as fast as she usually could, not with the broken bones.

But she'd have to do it. She took a deep breath and moved closer to the couple.

[gluteus]

He didn't see her, his back turned to her, the wind rustling in his ears as he watched R, shifting his weight, fingers playing with the hilt of his blade.

He had thought it was impossible to find R more disconcerting than he had before, but he was wrong. Very, very, wrong. The eeriness crept through his spine, twisting the muscles and twitching at his eye.

"Waterhole." He said, flatly, but agreeing. His eyes narrow, and he pointed ahead of him. "You keep at least ten yards ahead. You come any closer, and I'll dismantle you where you stand. Understood?"

[shambler]

R nodded. Was he nodding because he got it or because it was just a matter of time before he shuffled across that invisible line? R didn't think he could even count to ten right now, much less guestimate what ten yards was: once Max started lopping off limbs was a probably a good indicator. R wished he could make out the man's face. Between his ruined eyes and the deepening dusk, he could just make out a man sized shadow. For a moment he thought there was another blur there, another smudge of movement but then he made the mistake of inhaling and his eyes drifted back over to Max again.

He wondered what his life had been like. Those hopes and dreams and little experiences that made a man. All the good stuff swimming around that frontal lobe of his. R's withered tongue flicked out to ran across his lips, which was so past the point of chapped it wasn't even funny, and he nodded again without remembering he'd already done that.

"Okay," R said with a groan, because that seemed safe and noncommittal when parts of the conversation were sliding in and out of sight. "Okay" and "uh-huh" and "hggh brains" were safe bets when you weren't sure who said what when.

SORRY! I fell asleep

[gardienne]

Oh - they were moving. Well, that made things easier for Eponine.

She waited for a moment, letting both men move off a little distance before she began her approach. And then she moved as fast as she could, ignoring the pain in her chest.

Eponine ran and ducked, ducked as far down as she could behind the bags and began to feel feverishly for the clasp or the strings that kept them closed. She could feel food - tins of some sort, she shouldn't wonder - and she began to hurry. That horrible man would be back soon; he hadn't gone far anyway; she could still see them if she looked up. Eponine preferred to look down. She worked and she worked, grabbing as many tins as she could carry as quietly as she could.

no worries c: <3

[gluteus]

Maximus was not at all satisfied with that 'Okay', but it would have to do, as he took another step backward. Fine. He wouldn't be able to stop until they found R some food, he could go without for a couple hours. Just had to retrieve the bags, and--

The second he turned back to his supplies, he saw her, digging through his pack like a scavenging rat, the crossbow just to the side of her. He cursed, drawing his machete, already running toward her.

"TRIBUTE!" He yelled, echoing across the sand, half as a warning for her and half for R as he launched himself forward, blade flashing.

[shambler]

The silence went on long enough for R to think he'd hear that machete's whisper before it sliced off an arm as a warning. Max bellowing bloody murder in his face was about the last thing on his mind, R starting after the fact and flinching. He was left staring stupidly as Max's blurry shadow wheeled around and booked it toward the Tribute he'd...totally missed somehow. Some guard!, R thought, annoyed, trying to remember which foot went first. Right? Left? Right sounded good. He liked right.

R stuck his right foot out and staggered after Max, following that Living scent and starting to get into the hungry corpse's idea of a run - an awkward, hunched over lope, his knees locked stiff as he kicked up sand. Even at his fastest, R was still trailing behind Max, unable to see who this Tribute was aside from another human-shaped blur.

All he knew was maybe he'd get something to eat after all. He just hoped this wasn't going to be a repeat of Aun - of last time. Please, not that again!

[gardienne]

Eponine looked up as soon as she heard the cry. He'd seen her - they'd seen her. And he didn't look happy. Eponine gaped for about half a second, before she stood and turned to run, dropping tins haphazardly as she felt desperately in her sleeve for her knife. Come on, come on. She gasped in pain as she staggered as fast as she could, her right hand still clutched to her chest.

[gluteus]

He tore through the sand, white robes whipping around him as the wind suddenly picked up.

Grit in his eyes and a roar on his tongue, he was on her in seconds, the machete slashing down to where she was a mere second before. Up came the blade, curving back down in a sharp and violent arc towards her.

Thought was something that was only detriment, in a fight. But somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized her, knew her.

And nothing in him could bring himself to feel bad.

[gardienne]

Eponine froze as the swoosh of the blade came down, sure that this was the end. But when it didn't hit her, in that split second, she turned to face him, staggered and fell back on the ground.

She sat up, and lunging forward, she tried to jam her knife into his leg, crying out as the pain in the chest overtook her. But even as she whined, the machete was flashing down again and she was forced to throw herself backwards, lying flat on the sand. From this position, she could only cry out,

"Monsieur - Monsieur, please do not hurt me - please. I have food I can give you - I can give you whatever you want - Sir. I can make you happy, Sir. I took nothing - please don't kill me, Sir."

[gluteus]

He didn't even noticed the irritating sting on his calf, too focused on the task at hand.

His foot found her shoulder, pinning her hard down into the sand.

"You belong back in the capitol," He said, flatly.

It was the only reply he gave her before the tip of his machete found the soft flesh between her ribs - before he sank the entire blade deep into her chest.

For Wyatt

[gluteus]

Maximus left before R was finished eating, unable to watch him. He'd made sure both corpses were well and truly dead before the zombie had a chance to feed, and then he backed up into the desert, letting the winds and the dust take him deeper into the sand.

He knew where to go, but the path was winding and not always straightfoward - the sand often shifted under the wind so it didn't stay the same. He was wounded, bleeding more than he cared to, his weapons all safely stowed as he clutched his bleeding arm, as the blood from his leg soaked the bottom hem of his robe. The cut across his cheek oozed, dripping down his jaw and neck, catching in headdress. That wasn't even counting Eponine's blood. Sigma's. Where his white robes were once a dust-dyed tan, they were now dark, and smelled of death.

He kept a brisk pace.

By the time he was back at the camp he was tired and weak. He managed to get himself inside but slumped down next to the make-shift door, exhausted, as soon as he was out of the sun.

[the_marshal]

One minute it was Wyatt and the low fire. The former silent as he picked over his latest harvest of cactus meat, the latter cracking and popping cheerily as needles were tossed into the flames. The next - just as he noticed the shadows playing strangely beneath the coat - the fabric was pulling aside and the small opening filling with Max's broad shoulders.

Max staggered and slumped and Wyatt was on his feet, knocking over the silver canister he'd been using to store the cactus, the piece in his hands forgotten. He grabbed at the robes, at Max's arm, his own wet and sticky fingers, slipping in the warm stains.

"Max!" He caught at him, helped to ease him down before he fell. "Max-, Jesus."

[gluteus]

"I'm alright!" Max said as Wyatt's hands caught at him, as he helped him down. "I'm alright. Nothing that'll kill me." He shook his head to clear the dark prickles at the corners of his vision. Well. Lost more blood than he thought, but he was still fine.

"Most of it... isn't mine," He added after a minute, as he closed his eyes and caught his breath.

[the_marshal]

"Yeah, ya look alright."

He prodded Max's cheek lightly with one finger, turning him so he could take in the angry cut.

"Jus' peachy."

Blue eyes flicked over the rest of his face, and then down to his arm, pushing at the billowing sleeve to find the wound there. That was deeper, uglier. Wyatt's mouth twisted.

Might even need stitching... but he'd have to clean it to be sure.

He stood again, stepping over Max's legs to move to the back of the cave, hunting up what remained of their water and the little medical kit he'd gotten from the Cornucopia.

"R?"

He wouldn't ask about the others. Didn't need to know, didn't want to. Max'd come through, that's what mattered.

[gluteus]

He let himself be poked and prodded, turning his head and lifting his limbs as Wyatt checked him over.

"Eating," He said, the word a little dark, his brows knitting slightly. His lips parted, then closed, then parted again.

"He's dangerous, Wyatt." It wasn't the first time he'd said it, and it wouldn't be the last, but he wasn't going to fight about it longer than that.

[the_marshal]

Movement paused, Wyatt's shoulders hunching on his inhale, falling again as he let it out.

He couldn't deny truth when he heard it.

"I know."

Picking up the last two bottles of water, he turned back, not quite meeting Max's eyes as he took a seat beside him, settling next to his knees. He twisted off one of the caps and held the bottle out.

"I didn't see any of this last arena... didn't know about Aunamee, if I had-" his mouth hung open, closed on another exhale. His eyes finally looked up, met Max's.

"I'm sorry."

Sorry he'd gotten mixed up in this. Sorrier than words could say that he'd gotten hurt over it.

[gluteus]

"You don't need to apologize, Wyatt," Maximus said, voice low, just over the crackling fire. "He's dangerous, but... There's still something in there. Something human."

The frown deepened as he reached out, as he took the bottle and brought it to his lips, only taking a sip. He needed the water but he needed it to last, more.

"You saw that before I did. But that doesn't mean he won't devour you, if he loses himself and gets a chance."

[the_marshal]

He took Max's arm again, folding the sleeve back, cuffing the voluminous fabric as best he could at his elbow to keep it out of the way. He studied the injury, silent for a long moment, turning Max's wrist carefully to follow the cut around.

"Gonna end that way however it happens, Max. Whether it's R, or some other tribute or somethin' the Capitol cooks ups."

Releasing him, he rested Max's arm on his knee and reached for his own sleeve, unrolling it with nimble fingers.

"They aren't comin' for us like they normally do." He reached for his knife, started cutting the fabric off at the elbow. "I expect I'll end up scattered across this desert one way or another."

He said it matter-of-factly, truly believing it.

His cuff, bull's head winking, flashed in the low firelight.

[gluteus]

He did his best to behave as a good patient should, his arm moving easily under Wyatt's touch. His face darkened as the man spoke.

"No, they aren't. There are more than a few sun-bleached corpses, out there." He sucked in a breath, shook his head. "Perhaps they mean to clear out the stock. But don't worry, Wyatt, I'll make sure we--" But he paused as he saw Wyatt cutting his shirt.

"Wyatt-- You need that! Leave it. Cut from mine. I won't see you red and blistered for a scratch I should have avoided anyway."

[the_marshal]

The blade tip snagged, pulled, tore down the length of his arm.

"It's a sleeve, Max." Pushing the knife blade into the sand, he took a hold of the fabric and pulled, shirt ripping noisily. "I'll keep without."

Folding the new rag over and over into a small square, he reached for the water, carefully splashing a mouthful, two, into the cloth.

[gluteus]

Maximus grumbled but fell silent, watching Wyatt work. He felt ba about the shirt, making a mental note to see if later they could scrounge one.

"Thank you, Wyatt," he said eventually, subdued, the exhaustion washing over him again. "This all the water we have left...?"

[the_marshal]

"You'd do the same fer me," was all he said, considering Max's thanks no more necessary than Max had deemed his apology.

Then he nodded, reluctant, but honest.

"Fer now." He cupped Max's arm in his palm and gently brought the wet cloth down against his skin, dabbing lightly, testing - both the wound, and Max.