thecircus | Test Drive Meme

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test drive meme

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.

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Dennett was still staring at the weapons when the alarm blared. He'd snagged a medical kit, but mostly because it looked familiar, rather than because he was thinking about any of the, well, implications of it, especially among all the sharp, pointy, dangerous things.

Knife, he thought, or tried to think--it was kind of hard with all the noise and bustle and the uncanny sense of being watched. He was much more used to the controlled quiet of an operating suite than this, what even was this outfit? It was more than a little African Queen, but he was hardly Humphrey Bogart.

A knife would be useful, to slice clothes, or food--there had to be food, right? He hesitated as everyone seemed to scatter, looking at the four paths. They all look terrible, honestly.

That building, then. To the west. It had to be civilization. Maybe a proper hotel, with phones and baths and--could he hope? internet access.

Apparently he wasn't the only one who'd chosen to go that way: Alex knew by now that he has a weight limit and he takes on look at the thick mud and decides it's not worth the risk.

He takes off at a jog, his HUD helpfully informing him that [ STABILIZERS DAMAGED - FULL SPEED INOPERATIONAL ]. In other words, no sprinting. Good to know. He'd asked Dr. Norton about turning off the notifications constantly popping up and had only gotten an owlish stare and a mournful headshake that said, essentially, he's stuck with it. Oh, and he couldn't do anything about the sound issue too: with the racket Alex makes just be walking, he figures Tributes can hear him even with their eyes closed.

He thought he'd seen the doctor at the Cornucopia. A quick check of the bodies - Alex's face goes too-smooth as he schools his face at the dead bobbing in the fountain - says neither Clara or Norton are there. It's some good news.

Alex catches up to Norton at the front of the building that, he thinks, looks an awful lot like the reptile houses they used to have when he was a kid. It's been awhile since he's gone to the zoo. "Doctor!" Alex stomps up because he literally can't move any other way, his expression hopeful. "You seen Clara around?"

He doesn't add you look good - great to know no one's stabbed you. One thing at a time.

Being not stabbed (yet) was a pretty sad thing when it was the best thing you can say about your day. And that was about where Dennett was currently at, because, my god. People were killing each other out there. What was wrong with this place?

A not so great thing to say about one's day, though, was the one he was confronting, as he read the small informative plaque in front of the enclosure. 'Death adder' did not sound promising, and the fact that the glass was off the front of the enclosure, a bit of straw spilling over the lip, also did not bode good things. Maybe 'death adder' was hyperbole? He could hope.

He was still mouthing 'death adder' as he turned, hearing the--familiar?--voice. "A-alex?" This was a surprise, but, good or bad? He couldn't tell. All he knew was that suddenly the knife he'd snatched seemed, well, awfully inadequate. "Clara? No. I haven't--she's here, too?"

Alex hates to say it, but Dr. Norton practically has one of those "I'm an easy target" signs hanging over his head. He's not sure if it's the glasses slightly askew, the grey hair sticking up while most of the Tributes are probably half his age, or just the way he startles like he's been shot. None of them add up to a general impression of a badass here. Just a guy who looks like he doesn't belong, like he should've died at the Cornucopia within the first five minutes.

"Yeah. Yeah, she's here." Alex puts on his best poker face, which, he suspects, got a hell of a lot better since he woke up a cyborg. Skin grafts, he suspects, among other things. "C'mon, we better get under cover."

He leads the way, shattered glass crunching as he steps inside. His eyes adjust ([ NIGHT VISION - INACTIVE ] pops up, thanks HUD) and he can see that where there should've been the displays that snot-nosed kids tap on the window, there's just empty exhibits, bits of logs and scummy water. Alex scopes out the place before he swivels around to face Norton.

"Best bet for you is to hole up somewhere, wait this out."

That sign was actually probably a bit closer to blinking neon arrows pointing to the easy target. And Dennett was, at least, aware of it, which was why he looked so, well, squirrelly.

And Alex can whip out that stony face as much as he wants: he's not fooling Dennett. "We? What we? Alex, you have to find her. She could get..." well, the end of that sentence was pretty obvious, wasn't it?

"I can't 'hole up' here!" He pointed to the sign, with the venomous snake name. "These creatures are loose." And possibly slithering up to Dennett 'Easy Prey' Norton. He looked around the ground, anxiously. Can snakes climb bare legs? Probably.

Alex levels a flat stare at Norton. "I know."

It's dangerous to assume this is like Detroit where, contrary to popular belief, you can walk around without getting murdered by Joe Average off the street. The Arena is another thing entirely and he's more than aware of that. Every minute he wastes making sure Norton is set is plenty of time that another Tribute could find his wife and kill her. Alex is using every patience trick in the book he learned from Jack. This isn't the doctor's fault. He's not a cop, he's not a soldier or private security: he's just a guy used to lab coats. Granted, he's a really, really scarily smart guy, but Alex doubts he's ever even been mugged.

"I can do a sweep, check for anything. Maybe you can wait it out in the bathroom until I get back," Alex shrugs, the motion looking weird with the graphene chassis. There's something too rigid and yet boneless about it. "I've been getting errors on my visor modes. Don't suppose you can fix that?"

Alex figures it's shooting in the dark because there's no lab or assistants here. Maybe Norton can McGuyver something up?

"Right. Of course." Shut up, Dennett: Alex had never suffered from a lack of grasp of the obvious. If anything, the neural wiring should enhance his ability to read and tactically map an environment and threats about a thousand fold.

"Without regular synching with the base system, I wouldn't be surprised there are some, well, minor errors," he said. "I could check it out, but I'd need, well, some equipment." And about 100% less fear of imminent death.

Stop, Dennett, stop. Trying to calculate about how fast that would be was not helpful, though it was preferable than the dozen or so terrifying scenarios about public restrooms, much less public restrooms plus poisonous snakes. He blinked, pulling himself back to the unfortunately present moment. "Yes. Of course. I can find...somewhere." Can snakes climb trees?

That would help, yeah. Alex didn't think it'd be so easy as hoping Dennet had some magic fingers. The whole billion-dollar science/lab thing was way out of Alex's pay-grade: you ask him to bust some weapons and drugs deals and sure, he could totally do that. Had the scumbag thug cover down. Looking at a dead body without puking? Can do that too. But this whole Star Trek thing is just way over his head, Alex deflating at Norton's gentle "no" without realizing it.

"Crap," Alex mutters. He puts that aside, focusing on his handler. "Okay. I'll be back in two seconds, just...just keep an eye out?"

He's a little worried that Norton might get himself killed in the meantime by being too trusting.

Alex pivots away and moves to check out the bathroom, making his rounds. So far he's not picking up any signs of snakes or lizards. Just a humidity that's making him sweat in the chassis and wish Norton had put some damn A/C in here. He comes back after a few minutes.

"Looks safe for now. Unless it's Clara or me or anyone else you trust, I wouldn't open that door."

Edited (I can't spell scumbag apparently ) 2014-06-12 00:03 (UTC)

He hates that look of quiet disappointment. A lot. He feels helpless enough here, and that's almost an affront to the very few things he could do. "When I get a chance, I can at least try. They do have some computers here, right?" Well, not here-here, in the snake pit.

And the thought of hiding in a public restroom in a snakey area does not sit well, but then again, he's fresh out of other ideas. Or any, really, so he clutches the knife he snatched a little closer, edging past Alex into the tiled room, and tries not to worry about whether or not snakes can swim up plumbing. "O-okay. I'll be fine, Alex. Really." In a very loose definition of fine that might involve some unmanly screaming.

"It's a zoo. Probably a step back from what you're used to."

He hates to say it, but he's not sure how long Norton will last in the Arena: he gets there could be computers but he doubts it'll be the caliber he's used, so unless he can break a tower open and jury-rig parts from that, Alex isn't holding his breath on that front. He tries to give Norton a reassuring grin, knows it's downright watery because he can fake being some dealer's muscle but he can't fake this.

Alex reaches into the bag he's brought with him, rooting around the small tins of food (not much) and the water (even less). He comes up with a coil of rope, so thin it's almost more like steel cable.

"Here. Maybe you can lock the door with this." Or he could kill a man by strangling him. Alex takes on look at Norton and he doesn't know if he has it in him.

Clara was running west as fast as her legs could carry her when she recognized Dr. Norton. She briefly considered leaving him behind and letting him figure this out on his own so she could try to find Alex sooner. That thought ended up being shot down by her conscious (which...ironic that it kicked in now instead of during the Cornucopia to tell her not to stab someone, she didn't take the time to really notice who, in the stomach with the dagger she had grabbed). "Dr. Norton?"

It's obvious that Clara's seen much better days. Her hair's a mess and some of it has been pulled out of her formerly sleek ponytail, her left forearm has a gash in it that's started to bleed into her cut open sleeve, and her right hand was tightly grasping a bloody dagger. On the bright side (at least to her), she grabbed a weapon and a backpack that, hopefully, had some food or water or anything else of use in it.

"How are you holding up?"

Oh, he had already 'figured out' enough. He was just not built for sprinting. Or, well, any kind of strenuous physical exertion.

And there was perhaps never a good time to run into the wife of the man you'd unethically tampered with, but definitely right now, with her holding a knife stained with blood? Well, Dennett was pretty sure this was close to the worst.

"Mrs Murphy." He was doing a passable (?) job hiding the alarm in his voice, gaze flicking to the knife and back to her face a time or two. This was all too much for an old man, even a smart one, to take in all at once. "I. Uh. You're injured." Right. That was something he could do, something he could deal with.

Despite how much she may have disliked Dr. Norton, she definitely would have never thought that he deserved to be brought here (though, none of them deserved it, really). As soon as she noticed that he kept looking at the knife in her hand and heard the alarm in his voice, she loosened her grip on the blade and carefully slid it into a belt loop.

"It's not that bad." And really, considering some of the things she had seen in the last arena (or the way she died last time), a small, profusely bleeding cut on her arm isn't that bad as long as it doesn't get infected. "Have you seen Alex? I saw him earlier, but everything happened so fast and I couldn't keep track of him."

She will, in the circumstances, he hopes forgive him for being a little, well, twitchy. He likes controlled environments and this is the opposite of that. Still, he felt a little better watching her sheath the blade. A little safer, though that was only a relative term, really.

"I could take a look at that?" He had grabbed a medical kit, after all. He just hadn't really thought he'd have to use it. But better on someone else than himself. "I saw him. Yes. I sent him after you." It seemed like a gallant thing to do, at the time. It still did, it just felt ironic right now that she was here and Alex, the one most physically capable, was somewhere else. "I'm sure he's fine, though."

She definitely understood why he was being twitchy. Though, as far as horrible death filled arenas went, this one seemed far less intimidating than her first one had been. Which probably meant that, in the long run, this one would be worse, but they could all deal with that part later.

There was a brief moment of hesitance before she gave in and rolled up the sleeve to reveal the fairly shallow, but none-the-less bloody, wound. "I figured I could clean and bandage it after I found Alex," she said as she put her arm out for him to examine as she laughed slightly at the entire situation. "I'm sure he is, thanks to you." If she were honest, in any other situation there might be some bitterness to her tone, but the fact of the matter was that, in here at least, it meant Alex was far less likely to die from a knife wound or a giant, venomous spider (she had seen the proof of the latter herself).

Edited 2014-06-11 05:51 (UTC)

If that's the case, he would be silently glad that he came in to this arena: this was already on the verge of more than an old nerdy man can take.

"If you wait, you might--I hate to say--leave a blood trail that would lead someone right to you." As someone who was highly invested in finding some place to hide, this would be a very bad thing. Surely she was thinking the same, right?

"Mrs Murphy, now is perhaps not the best time for that." Because he heard the timbre of her voice, and knew exactly what that was from. Knew it so well, in fact, that he found it best to spend the next few minutes bent over her arm, cleaning the wound and avoiding eye-contact.

The idea of a blood trail had somehow barely managed to come to mind until he mentioned it. While, yes, she had already resigned herself to the fact that she wasn't going to win and it would probably be for the best if she got sent back to the Capitol sooner rather than later, the idea of leading someone to Alex or any of her other allies who might have a fighting chance was unthinkable. "Thanks."

There really wasn't anything she could think of to say to that. Instead of trying to force a conversation that neither of them wanted to have at the moment (or ever, really), she let him work in silence for a couple minutes as she tried to figure out where Alex may have gone before finally deciding the silence was far more awkward than any conversation they could have. "Are you going to be camping with us or do you have something else planned?" While it wasn't exactly an offer, it was probably the closest thing to one she was going to give him.

He's done his rotations in ERs as a resident: he remembers the hallways after some of Detroit's more 'exciting' nights of violence. "Least I could do," he says, managing an owlish smile. And it probably was, after all the damage he's done to the Murphy family, the least he could do.

"Plans? I haven't, erm, I haven't planned anything." Though his priority list includes 'not getting stabbed' and 'not getting bitten by snakes'. "I wouldn't--I wouldn't want to intrude."

"It's more than most people would do in here." Or at least that's what she's been told, considering the only time someone really turned aggressive on her in the previous arena had been when she was ambushed and eventually killed. But it's better to keep him on his toes than to lure him into any sort of false sense of security in the arena.

"You wouldn't be intruding." It's not a complete lie. While she'd rather he not be with them, having him around could possibly be the difference between how long Alex can make it in the arena, so she's willing to suck up and deal. "And even if you don't want to, I know a few scientists who would probably be interested in meeting you."

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Test Drive Meme

Dr Dennett Norton || RoboCop 2014 | Tribute | Arena

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Wrap the thread here or did you want to timeskip and continue?

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