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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.
no subject
He's thrown, visibly thrown. He can't help it. The smile he'd been returning to...younger slang man flickers and dies thanks to his total lack of acting skills. There was no blueprints for that era. Totally post war- current era, even. What were the programmers thinking-
But no time for that. He could pick up some of that first bit, and it's much easier to just run with that, even if his eyebrows are still knitted together in concern.
"And I could trounce. I've got trouncing capacity."
no subject
And then, as if determined to undermine his ability to intimidate, he spins in the chair again and drums on the armrest. He casts a look at Sherlock and jerks his thumb at Mouse.
"Skinny here says no signal to the outers, but he's blued up on ideas for inside work."
no subject
He glanced between them, raising an eyebrow at Mouse. So the boy might come in useful? Good.
"Word." He looked back at Punchy. "You catch the rides? Some of our homies were spinning rims in the rumble. We got some golden for the wire."
no subject
Aw, what the hell. He'd worked with crazier. Best to focus on what he knew rather than wish about having a dictionary download. So he ducked back down again, pulling out a panel to get to the wiring. Best to check there weren't any patches (or explosives, for that matter) on the line before getting hopes up.
"Okay, I'm gonna just call all that a cultural thing. It's Mouse, by the way. Me."
He waved a hand for a quick moment, not looking up.
"I'm Mouse. No 90s slang for that one."
no subject
"Word up. Spun the wheels with Holiday for a mo', found a push in the glove compartment." Which meant that the hotwiring Holiday did, while impressive, was not even remotely necessary.
Punchy draws a hand over his chest as if painting his name across it. "Punchy. And that's Holmesboy."
no subject
"Sherlock Holmes," He added, "Or, as he said. Holmesboy." He sounded somewhere between sarcastic and proud. He ducked down to watch Mouse work, but didn't question the name. He was hanging out with a kid named Punchy, after all.
"Still got wheels?" Sherlock asked him, glancing back.
no subject
It was more half muttered than anything as he scooted to the side slightly, giving Holmes room to get a good look at what they had to work with. Really, he couldn't blame the two for picking up new names in a new reality. Wasn't like his 'mom' had named him Mouse. It was just a sad lack of creativity to just pick a book off a shelf and run with it.
Thought the boy named after a computer part. Okay, he was maybe being a little judgmental here. At least Punchy wasn't a bad pick for the setting.
no subject
Although that actually might make it safer - you'll get a chance to bring your elevator back up behind a barricade of junked car rather than taking an immediate hit to the face once the doors open.
"So. Mouse. What's this i-dee for inside work you spacin'?"
no subject
"Damn," He murmured under his breath about the car. That was at least two totaled that he knew of. He hoped the other four were in working order.
He glanced up at Mouse when Punchy asked his question, equally curious.
no subject
They were being watched, that much he knew- hey, maybe the whole weird talking was a code so the audience at home couldn't follow along? There was an idea. He'd have to work on picking it up- but the point was he couldn't just out and out say he was here to track the makers. The power was coming from somewhere, and here they were hooked in.
He could only hope his compatriots in crime didn't assume he meant blowing that up. That could end badly for him.
"Also, I also wanted to make the morning announcements. Never got the chance. Left school too early."
no subject
He's really not the stealthy type. At all. Everything about Punchy is loud and somewhat obnoxious. It's really just by luck that his slang happens to be an excellent way to avoid the censors.
He raises his eyebrows at Mouse, then leans in, interested to hear more. "Shit, I tried rigging up some turn-ups my first dogshow, got based. Maybe it'd hit forty this time?"
no subject
He turned his head and added to Punchy, "You'd be turning a whack frequency," in a low amused voice. Mouse had it right on the nose - once Sherlock had figured out that Punchy was using it as a dialect and not simply as a disgrace to the English language, he'd picked up on it in order to be able to speak in near code.
Which was why the next statement was still in the strange dialect.
"They be bumping and jappin' about the regulars. It's probably locked down tight." Considering that the system was being used to make the death announcements, he expected the security system on it to be tighter than your average intercom.
no subject
So they didn't think he was going to kill them all. So far so good. He traced some of the wiring with one hand, the fingers of the other wiggling as he formed the mental map of how the whole system must be set up based on this window view.
"Unless one of you don't have a sister. In that case, no offense to your pretty faces, but I'll skip to bets on friendly female acquaintances."
lost this notif whups
He swallows for a moment and looks at the screens.
"You think they keep their juice when they's not blaring out a room with some movement?"
no subject
"Whatever hustle they run on this line's got to be fat slap and bonus," He said to Punchy, before looking over at Mouse.
"Do they have any way to broadcast signals? Even short range?"