thearena | Everybody Dies [Closed]

Who| Howard, Alpha, R, Julie, John Watson, Tim Drake-Wayne (?)
What| Howard's last days in the Arena.
Where| Both Arenas.
When| Last few weeks.
Warnings| Zombification and gore in the thread with R and Julie.

He doesn't tell Diana where he's going. She'd laugh at him if he did, or worse, she'd believe him. I'm off to hunt down the man who tried to kill me, and then I'm going to kill him. At this point he's not certain what he is in her head, the scrawny kid who sold drugs and ran from gunfire or the killer who burned people alive, and he's also not sure why he cares.

When Diana wakes up, hair full of sticky pieces of candy, Howard just tells her he'll be back in a few hours and heads off, letting the smell of sugar and the pinkish yellow sun envelop him. He imagines walking into, and through, a horizon. One hand is at his knife, and the other over his rainbow-colored bag filled with explosives. He finds high ground and he watches for his target.

Eventually, he sees a flash of blonde hair. And he slides down the gingerbread hill, teeth gritted, eye that isn't behind the eyepatch narrowed.

Last Week

He spends more time in the tunnels. The bear traps he's dug up guard the entrances. He generally prefers the sandy, rocky side, including the little mine tracks that lead up to the end, because at least it's a nice break from the monotony of candyland. He sleeps with his knife close, his throwing stars in his pocket, some broken arrow tips tucked into his belt loops. His clothing is tattered to ribbons at the sleeves and ankles.

He told Wyatt he'd win. He promised.

He and Diana cross each other's paths less now. They spend more and more time scavenging for food as it becomes scarcer and scarcer. Soon the watering hole dries up, and most of the day is spent looking for alternate sources. They've dug a little gutter at the top of the cave, but no rain comes to fill it.

He plans on waiting out the last week.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Howard keeps eye contact. He forces himself to keep it, even when instinct says grovel, says look away, says run.

"I'm not afraid of you anymore."

And with that, he yanks the flashbomb from his pocket, already flipping the lighter flame open, and throws it into Alpha's face.

Alpha's already got his mouth open for a retort to that ridiculously and blatantly false claim when Howard pulls out the flashbomb. With a curse he ducks, twisting away and covering his face instinctively. It's not enough to really mitigate the effects, he's too close.

He hits the ground knees first, slams his eyes shut and puts a hand to the ground, trying to regain his equilibrium as soon as he can manage.

The danger of the flash bomb has never been in the force of it - it's in the light, the surprise, the bits of ember that can't help but set anything in this highly-flammable landscape alight. Howard's sleeve catches fire and he rips his hoodie off before it has a chance to burn him, finding the knife in his pants.

Don't think, he tells himself. It's the same as with Draco.

He jumps on Alpha, bringing the knife down like an axe on the neck of a chicken.

Alpha's smoldering himself in a few places, not quite alight, and he doesn't notice, can't notice anything until he feels the weight of Howard on his back. He reaches back, but while he's quick as ever his aim is off and he can't stop the knife entirely.

He feels the edge bite in, isn't aware enough of his body to tell how bad it is, but it's certainly not instantly fatal so he grits his teeth, turns, and reaches out to grab Howard, try and wrestle him down.

"Auh!" Howard's knee goes out from under him as Alpha applies downward pressure, and he finds himself falling to his back. This is the position he was in before, but he doubts there's any voice in Alpha's head that will intervene to save him now.

"Get off of me! Get off of me!" he shrieks, rolling back and kicking with his legs, flailing with the knife and jamming it into Alpha's bicep. His other hand gropes around until he finds the burning fabric of his hoodie, and he grabs a handful and mashes the cinder-filled, smoldering clump into Alpha's face.

Alpha shouts in pain and rage when the knife sinks in again but that just makes press down harder, grasping for Howard's throat. He's still half-blinded from the light show and what little he can see is blurry, wavering, he can't react fast enough to stop Howard's retaliation.

He reels back, ripping the cloth away and only just resisting the urge to touch the burn. He glares through slitted eyes. "You have no comprehension of how badly this is going to end for you," he grits out, reaching for his own knife. If he doesn't see to his own wounds soon he'll simply bleed out, but not before taking Howard down first. Not when he's been so insulted.

Howard hesitates for just a second, just long enough for his eyes to dart over to the spray of blood on this candy hell, to feel how wet his own fingers are clenched around the knife. And then he grabs a stone or a gumdrop or whatever from the ground and throws it at Alpha's face before bolting away.

No snappy one-liners. No firm, knowing gaze. Howard's only intent is to get away now before Alpha can catch him. His hand rummages though his jeans for his other flashbomb.

Alpha's recovered enough to knock aside the flying projectile easily enough, but when he stumbles to his feet and tries to run after the kid, the ground tilts dangerously and he has to stop or fall on his face. He grips the knife but quickly decides against throwing it. The chances of him actually hitting Howard at all, much less somewhere vital, are nearly nonexistent.

"Running, Howie!" he yells out instead, after the kid. "Is that the master plan! A little light show and you can just run away like it never happened!"

Howard stops at the nickname, of all things. At the little pet name that he hates, that Alpha feels entitled to use even when he's lost. And so, out of range of being hit with the knife barring a very lucky shot, he turns.

And he pulls the lighter and the second flashbomb out.

Everybody Dies [Closed]

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