Panem Events (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
etcircenses) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecircus2014-06-10 12:39 am
etcircenses) wrote in thecircus2014-06-10 12:39 am
Entry tags:
Test Drive Meme
Welcome to Panem. You have been selected to participate in the 75th Annual Hunger Games!
Premise: This Arena is designed to be a small mock arena not all that dissimilar to the in-game arenas we run here at The Games. The party is similar to some of the gathering logs we have inside the Capitol when an Arena begins. Our hope is to give new and prospective players a place to get their feet wet, and get a feel for the fun (and bloody) mess that goes on around here.
This meme is open to anyone and everyone who would like to play. Current cast members, veteran and new, as well as anyone just wanting top drop in and have some fun!
How To Play.
Current cast members - you may tag into this arena in any way you choose, even cast members who aren't or are no longer tributes.
***An important side note, as it is within the confines of the Area in-game, all powers are lessened/nullified to bring any character down to a vincible level. (I.E. Make more magical/super-powered characters easier to actually kill for a normal person). Rule of thumb: If it's a physical difference, the Capitol will not mutilate it out (wings, etc), but other wise it's gone.
The Arena.
Tributes are raised in a circle around the Cornucopia; they are all dressed in safari outfits, including the little hats, and slathered in bug spray and sunscreen. They look amongst each other at the start of the Cornucopia. At the center of the circle is a fountain where a dancing hippo spits water into a circular pool around it. There's an engraving in embossed letters around the one-foot rim of the pool: PANEM NATIONAL ZOO.
Floating in the water of the brass fountain are supplies that the Tributes should find useful: medical kits, sleeping bags, and most importantly, weapons. Ropes, bo staffs, nunchuks, daggers and spears are all in ready supply a mere hundred yard sprint from the Tributes.
There are four paths away from the Cornucopia - into a swampy pit to the south, which, unbeknownt to Tributes, hosts alligators and crocodiles who've missed their scheduled feeding. To the west, into a dark building where boxes cut into the walls reveal that there were once tanks for creepy crawlies, but the glass has been removed. Through a gift-shop to the north, stuffed with plush animals (many of which are filled with razor blades, or other sweet little surprises). Or down an asphalt pathway to the east, winding through tall cages that may provide shelter from the other Tributes - but not necessarily the enclosure's inhabitants.
The countdown blares out in the humid air.
3...2...1...
Let the Games begin.
-/-
The Party.
Back in the Capitol, the Cornucopia is being celebrated with a lavish party. Animal couture is all the rage, and Capitol celebrities have dressed for the occasion by having their teeth elongated and their irises surgically altered to give the appearance of slit pupils. The wine is flowing freely, and the centerpiece of this particular viewing party is what appears to be a pig the size of a hippopotamus being roasted on a spit.
Screens throughout the large ballroom in which this takes place are showing the gruesome footage of the first bloodbath of what promises to be a delightfully ugly Arena. Tongueless Avoxes carry platters with little quail eggs in cups, silently offering them to all the guests. Caesar Flickerman, trademark blue hair now replaced by what appear to be feathers growing directly from his scalp, announces every gorey detail between oohing and ahhing over the dinner. Tributes die; Citizens feast.
Everyone who's anyone is invited.
Premise: This Arena is designed to be a small mock arena not all that dissimilar to the in-game arenas we run here at The Games. The party is similar to some of the gathering logs we have inside the Capitol when an Arena begins. Our hope is to give new and prospective players a place to get their feet wet, and get a feel for the fun (and bloody) mess that goes on around here.
This meme is open to anyone and everyone who would like to play. Current cast members, veteran and new, as well as anyone just wanting top drop in and have some fun!
How To Play.
Current cast members - you may tag into this arena in any way you choose, even cast members who aren't or are no longer tributes.
***An important side note, as it is within the confines of the Area in-game, all powers are lessened/nullified to bring any character down to a vincible level. (I.E. Make more magical/super-powered characters easier to actually kill for a normal person). Rule of thumb: If it's a physical difference, the Capitol will not mutilate it out (wings, etc), but other wise it's gone.
The Arena.
Tributes are raised in a circle around the Cornucopia; they are all dressed in safari outfits, including the little hats, and slathered in bug spray and sunscreen. They look amongst each other at the start of the Cornucopia. At the center of the circle is a fountain where a dancing hippo spits water into a circular pool around it. There's an engraving in embossed letters around the one-foot rim of the pool: PANEM NATIONAL ZOO.
Floating in the water of the brass fountain are supplies that the Tributes should find useful: medical kits, sleeping bags, and most importantly, weapons. Ropes, bo staffs, nunchuks, daggers and spears are all in ready supply a mere hundred yard sprint from the Tributes.
There are four paths away from the Cornucopia - into a swampy pit to the south, which, unbeknownt to Tributes, hosts alligators and crocodiles who've missed their scheduled feeding. To the west, into a dark building where boxes cut into the walls reveal that there were once tanks for creepy crawlies, but the glass has been removed. Through a gift-shop to the north, stuffed with plush animals (many of which are filled with razor blades, or other sweet little surprises). Or down an asphalt pathway to the east, winding through tall cages that may provide shelter from the other Tributes - but not necessarily the enclosure's inhabitants.
The countdown blares out in the humid air.
3...2...1...
Let the Games begin.
-/-
The Party.
Back in the Capitol, the Cornucopia is being celebrated with a lavish party. Animal couture is all the rage, and Capitol celebrities have dressed for the occasion by having their teeth elongated and their irises surgically altered to give the appearance of slit pupils. The wine is flowing freely, and the centerpiece of this particular viewing party is what appears to be a pig the size of a hippopotamus being roasted on a spit.
Screens throughout the large ballroom in which this takes place are showing the gruesome footage of the first bloodbath of what promises to be a delightfully ugly Arena. Tongueless Avoxes carry platters with little quail eggs in cups, silently offering them to all the guests. Caesar Flickerman, trademark blue hair now replaced by what appear to be feathers growing directly from his scalp, announces every gorey detail between oohing and ahhing over the dinner. Tributes die; Citizens feast.
Everyone who's anyone is invited.
no subject
The Soldier, the Asset, lifts his head from his restful position and is on his feet hidden behind an old cabinet by the time she steps inside. That someone came to his position is not unexpected, he had wanted that, the fact that she knows he is here and has followed him is. It makes him question himself that he didn't notice it.
But then he identifies her and it is not so unbelievable (but still a slip). Natasha Romanoff; the Black Widow, listed as a secondary target in his last mission, labelled extremely dangerous. She is a friend of Captain Steve Rogers and there is a feeling like... like he's met her before. The Widow addresses him by the name from the museum, the name Steve Rogers had identified him by, the one he's still coming to grips with whether to claim as his own.
James, it's disconcertingly familiar, not to the same level as being called Bucky, but familiar in it's own right.
She knows him, who he is, so why the obvious approach? It's a play of some kind but not one he can immediately puzzle out. The seconds tick by while he mulls over the choices and if the delay throws the Widow off so much the better, the Asset can afford the time -- would know if she attempted to close the distance between them further.
Perhaps after five minutes have passed he answers, curiousity eventually winning out over the drive to move to immediate violence (another new feeling he has been moved to try and understand of late).
"You followed me."
It's said blandly with no audible emotion, like he is the machine they strove to make him.
no subject
Even with the all too fresh memory of his blood in her hands as he laid dying in her mind, she doesn't exercise restraint when it comes to him now. Natasha's ready at a moment's notice for him to strike from the shadows and so she takes a page out of Matt's book, listening intently to her surroundings and pushing instinct ahead of all other emotion.
"You didn't make it easy." Natasha quips immediately once he speaks, fingers flexing at her side to alleviate her anxiety bit by bit. "You should have known I would come, had you done your homework."
no subject
The Asset is not foolish, he has seen them, spent the time before the arena avoiding Steve Rogers because of the way he felt uncomfortably compromised in the man's presence (and hadn't it taken some doing to manage that). Then there was the other, the man who also wore Bucky Barne's face and the Winter Soldier's arm. There were slight differences but not enough for him to make any excuses as to the truth -- especially when his name was listed as such on the Capitol's screens.
He adjusts the shiv slightly in his grip and begins to move slowly, testing each footfall before he lets his full weight come to bear, following the wall.
His name on the screens, he noticed, was the Winter Soldier.
no subject
Without S.H.I.E.L.D. or Tony Stark or Nick Fury or any of those other guys who can unravel her past here to slap her wrist every time she acted out, there was no need to play nice. So she won't.
The nicest thing she can do is throw the enticing offer of an easy kill in his face. No sign of a weapon and the reputation of dying in the second week of the arena should be enough to confirm it: she's not a difficult target. So the scoreboard says otherwise--so what? It's known the Gamemakers enjoy padding the numbers on those that have pissed them off so maybe she unleashed fire upon them and got burnt.
"I came here to talk to you." Even putting her arms up in the air as she steps further into a cleared spot. To the trained eye, she's not vulnerable in the slightest. Never was. Her posture remains fluid, ready to snap back into place at any given moment despite the lethargic show she's put on. "There are questions only you can answer for me. I'm sure there are questions only I can answer for you. Why not take opportunity when it is given?"
Her native accent seeps through the last sentence as she turns her head in his direction. "They don't pay attention to us unless there is killing."
no subject
His ears pick-up the Russian in her voice, the details of the file come up easily. Russian-born, ex-KGB. He doesn't think that it is a slip that she allows him to hear it.
Arm down by his side he twists the shiv, ready to throw. He shouldn't be listening to this, he should just go ahead and kill her, it's the shades of James Barnes that are prompting him to listen. Irritation blossoms, whatever she is planning he shouldn't allow her to do it. The programming is degrading and it is unnerving him with every moment of evidence.
no subject
Her voice is light, with a bit of urgency behind it. While her Bucky was concerned that this one couldn't be fixed (not without The Cube), she always found her way into his wounds to patch them up. She will do the same with this one, even if it's impossible.
It's likely they have no history together. What bits and pieces she's managed to wrangle of herself from the other Avengers all tie into this belief: it isn't possible for the Winter Soldier and Natasha Romonova to have known each other. Disappointing, but she'll find something within this shell of a man. That's what she's good at.
"Let's exchange information and not let this moment go to waste."
no subject
Human... What dim echoes of light that find their way into the room catch and reflect in glowering blue eyes. He's letting her see him, see the shiv in his right hand and the gleaming metal of the right arm -- the only weapon he needs -- and the loose easy combat ready stance of his body. It's an obvious threat.
The Soldier is learning to be human; it started with the defiance of saving Steve Rogers life, then ignoring the prime directive to return to HYDRA after (if there had even been anything left to return to). His programming tells him to kill the Widow, it's the other side of him that decides to listen and revels in the resistance.
"Fine."
no subject
At least that's her recollection. For a moment she wonders if that's another lie that's been programmed into her mind, doubting the validity of her relationship with the Bucky she's known.
No, she can't have mistrust in herself right now. Later, but not when she's trying to work an unstable man.
"Your story is different. I'd like to know how."
no subject
The glower deepens and his face closes off further. The Soldier resists the urge to fold his arms and keeps them down, knowing he can't afford to let his guard down before this woman even for a second.
That however makes him cock his head, he tries to sound out for the eerie sensation of information ringing true in his jumble of a mind and comes up empty. "You'd be better off asking someone else then."
Self-deprecating humour maybe, his memory is full of more holes than anything, slowly being pieced together by words on a museum wall -- and if he'd been allowed to do as he'd intended and pursued what left of HYDRA, maybe then more.
no subject
"You remember nothing."
Disappointing. Not all that hard to work with--man remembers with enough reminders or torture. Which will she have to use with him?
no subject
"I remember I was not the weapon of the KGB."
But he doesn't offer whose weapon he was, just enough to dissuade her of her ideas. Except... was he ever used by Hydra to do the work of the KGB, or work blamed on the KGB? Hydra was everywhere, they had their fingers in everything. SHIELD was hardly the only victim of their infiltration.
There's something else as he looks at her, the secondary target -- his hand twitches with the compulsion to fulfil the terms of the last mission. It's a feeling that he has seen her before, real and unphotographed but not quite the same. Not quite.
"... I shot you."