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thearena2014-01-18 02:35 pm
etcircenses) wrote in thearena2014-01-18 02:35 pm
Entry tags:
- ! arena 09,
- aunamee,
- cassandra marko,
- commander shepard,
- harley quinn,
- joan watson,
- karkat vantas,
- matthew "punchy" o'connor,
- sigma klim,
- terezi pyrope,
- the grand highblood,
- the signless,
- wyatt earp,
- ✘ barbara gordon,
- ✘ beck,
- ✘ brainiac 5,
- ✘ carlos the scientist,
- ✘ cinderella,
- ✘ courfeyrac,
- ✘ cuthbert allgood,
- ✘ danny fenton,
- ✘ deanna winchester,
- ✘ diana ladris,
- ✘ donatello,
- ✘ dr. holiday,
- ✘ eliot spencer,
- ✘ ellie,
- ✘ eponine thenardier,
- ✘ eren,
- ✘ gabriel,
- ✘ garrus vakarian,
- ✘ hans,
- ✘ hawkeye pierce,
- ✘ homura akemi,
- ✘ howard bassem,
- ✘ ian chesterton,
- ✘ ian gallagher,
- ✘ iskierka,
- ✘ jean kirschtein,
- ✘ john watson,
- ✘ julian bashir,
- ✘ justin law,
- ✘ kain highwind,
- ✘ kankri vantas,
- ✘ kili,
- ✘ leonard mccoy,
- ✘ lindsey mcdonald,
- ✘ max guevara,
- ✘ mindy macready,
- ✘ mouse,
- ✘ nepeta leijon,
- ✘ orc,
- ✘ perry kelvin,
- ✘ pruna,
- ✘ r,
- ✘ rat,
- ✘ ruby lucas,
- ✘ sam winchester,
- ✘ sherlock holmes (bbc),
- ✘ shion,
- ✘ some ovmennet,
- ✘ starkiller,
- ✘ subaru sumeragi,
- ✘ susannah dean,
- ✘ the disciple,
- ✘ venus dee milo,
- ✘ willow,
- ✘ zelos wilder
ARENA 09 - THE MUSEUM
The Tributes are woken up early for this Arena, and switched from whatever sleeping attire they're currently in to a set of pajamas, each designed for the individual in questions. Women wear onesies, and most of the men wear two-pieces, but other than that any similarities are at random - the outfits are in all sorts of colors and patterns.
The floor of the helicopter taking them to their Arena location, and of the underground entrance to the tubes that hoist them to the surface, will feel cold under their bare feet.
Rather than bringing them to sunlight, like the tubes have in the past, instead the Tributes are presented to a dark concrete ceiling in a badly-lit parking lot. Fluorescent lights do little to illuminate the cavernous space.
The countdown begins, announced as if from far away.
20
19
18…
The Cornucopia, a ghastly thing carved from stone and concrete, sits at the center of a pattern of white and yellow lines reminiscent of spots for parked cars. The painted lines create a sort of spoked wheel, providing lanes for the Tributes leading to the prizes at the center. Some of the more unfortunate Tributes will find the concrete architecture has placed pillars in their lanes.
8
7
6…
Six parked cars lie around the outskirts of the huge lot, barely visible in the dim lighting. Glowing exit signs on two opposite sides of the chamber announce where Tributes should go to escape the bloodbath. Elevator doors are perched beneath them.
3
2
1
The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces "the Arena is now open". The Games have begun.
The floor of the helicopter taking them to their Arena location, and of the underground entrance to the tubes that hoist them to the surface, will feel cold under their bare feet.
Rather than bringing them to sunlight, like the tubes have in the past, instead the Tributes are presented to a dark concrete ceiling in a badly-lit parking lot. Fluorescent lights do little to illuminate the cavernous space.
The countdown begins, announced as if from far away.
19
18…
The Cornucopia, a ghastly thing carved from stone and concrete, sits at the center of a pattern of white and yellow lines reminiscent of spots for parked cars. The painted lines create a sort of spoked wheel, providing lanes for the Tributes leading to the prizes at the center. Some of the more unfortunate Tributes will find the concrete architecture has placed pillars in their lanes.
7
6…
Six parked cars lie around the outskirts of the huge lot, barely visible in the dim lighting. Glowing exit signs on two opposite sides of the chamber announce where Tributes should go to escape the bloodbath. Elevator doors are perched beneath them.
2
1
The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces "the Arena is now open". The Games have begun.
Re: Joan Watson
And stomps on her knee.
She hears the pop, and can't contain a scream as the knee explodes in pain. For a moment she can do nothing more than writhe there on the concrete. But she's still in danger, there are bloodthirsty Tributes everywhere. She tries to push herself up, but the instant she puts any weight on her leg it buckles sideways and she screams again as she hits the floor. Again, she writhes, then starts trying to drag herself away from the cornucopia, her hands scraping uselessly against the concrete.
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"It's alright-- It's alright, Joan. Come on, let me help you up. Sherlock's waiting- we'll manage everything once we're together."
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"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice thin and tight, her awareness fogged with pain. "Are you okay?"
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"Thank...thank god we have you," she said. She inadvertently tried putting some weight on the bad leg and groaned through gritted teeth. "It was Howard. I don't..."
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It would need surgery, if by some totally freakish coincidence she managed to survive this.
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"Sherlock. Joan's hurt- can't walk. We need to get somewhere safe where I can treat you both..."
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"Elevator." He said instantly. "Everyone just wants to get out, they should be safe for now. No idea where it leads but we can't stay here."
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"We should go as high as possible. Easier for me to go down from there than up."
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"Alright. Together. That elevator there. Ready?"
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"Ready." He said, eyes locking on the elevator nearest to them. "Let's go."
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"Ready."
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"Get the door open, Sherlock?"
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"In - quickly, before anyone else comes--"
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"Six floors. Not a highrise, then, unlikely to be a mall-" The elevator jolted as it started lifting them to their destination. The jolt caused his shoulder to move and Sherlock let out a hiss of pain as he clamped down on his teeth. "First time I've been inside an urban arena, your guess is as good as mine."
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"Not a parking garage, the elevator is too nice..."
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For half a second Sherlock thought the were surrounded, and threw himself in front of John and Joan, the pain ripping through him like a tidal wave - but then he realsied that the figures weren't moving.
"Wax--"
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But no. The figures didn't move. Wax, as Sherlock said.
Joan rolled her eyes.
"God I hate this place..."
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"Madame bloody Tussauds," he groaned. "Alright. We find you somewhere to sit down, Joan, I see to your shoulder, Sherlock, and then we turn these damn things around so they're not looking at me."
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"There--" He said after a second. "Information desk."
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"Yeah, that will work."