TEST DRIVE MEME

[etcircenses]

Welcome to Panem. You have been selected to participate in the 75th Annual Hunger Games!

Premise: Something has gone a bit wrong with the device, and it's pulling in more people than the Capitol had planned. Extras, doubles, or even the same exact version of someone already pulled into Panem, with or without their memories! It's a mess. But somebody has to clean it up. And what better way to do so than to have a televised death-match!?

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. 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.

This meme may not count for in-game CR because it will not be considered as having actually happened, plot-wise.

Guests - welcome to Panem. This is your first time here. Your first Hunger Games. Run for the Cornucopia. Hide in a corner and cry. We don't care. Go crazy. Have fun. Make new friends. Profit.

***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.

Below, you will find a description of the setting for this arena as well as a few details regarding weapons, supplies and hazards.

Setting.

The building is old and musty, light filtering down through the dust particles that every movement sends into the air. It was obviously once a grand and beautiful place, a bustling hub, but this is far from true anymore.

The building consists of multiple levels. The main concourse is a huge, cavernous room, a hard place to hide in, but where all the cornucopia goodies can be found. Blue paint speckled with gold can still be seen clinging to what's left of the room, but any design has long since eroded away. Below that, a floor that ones held business and restaurants of all natures, and lower still levels of tracks, now long past the days of holding trains. Some of these tracks can be followed down a bit, if you want to make the jump down into them, but eventually all end short, either collapsed over the years or long since flooded out, ending in dark, murky water.

You have been outfitted in a pair of heavy cotton denim jeans, solid boots, a light cotton t-shirt and a heavy cotton hoodie. The upper floor can catch a draft, especially as night comes, but below the temperature is moderate, even warm.

Many thins are falling apart here, but the bulk of the building, made of cement and marble, has stood against time well. However, window have long since broken out, and store fronts, benches and counters made of woods have not fared as well.

Al thought electricity stopped here long ago, the Capitol has rigged partial power into the arena. Sometimes. The flickering lights are dim, and unreliable, and seem to always come and go at the worst times. Expect to find yourself exploring a tunnel by flickering lights, to suddenly be plunged into the kind of darkness you can only find under ground. Just you, the rat, and the person following you alone in the cozy darkness.
 

Supplies.

The Cornucopia is your first, most important resource. Around it are scattered the available resources:

Weapons:
-crowbar
-six-inch serrated hunting knife
-night stick

Equipment:
-day-glow orange backpacks containing the following items:
waterproof matches, high-tensile metal chord (12 feet) iodine
-small crate labeled "apples"
-chords of nylon rope
-metal quart-sized container presumably full of water
-flash lights


**IMPORTANT NOTE!!!!

Since this is a meme, we are going to allow each character the pick of ONE weapon and ONE equipment item, if you believe that your character would risk running for the cornucopia. Just remember. These are high demand items and we rather encourage you to fight over them ;) So long as you all remain civilized about it, of course. If things get out of hand, a mod will step in. Have fun with it, but be realistic too.

Immediate Hazards.

-The rats. They are big, nasty, and hungry. And there are MANY of them, especially if you go into the tunnels.

-Debris. Broken glass, rusted metal, broken concrete, rotten wood. This place has been falling apart for years and you weren't given a tetanus shot before you came here.

-Cave ins. The tunnels have not been maintained. They are not as stable as they once were after years of flooding and damage with no one to patch them up.

-The Water. Easy to acquire but bad to drink. Maybe you should pray for a rainstorm...



Wildlife.

**Columba livia. Common city pigeon. They are available in mass, flying in from the broken windows and holes in the roof. They are flighty, and messy, but not particularly smart.

**Loxosceles reclusa granda. Aggressive and unnervingly large brown spiders native to the area and love to lurk in dark corners. Their bites are incredibly poisonous and will begin to rot away the surrounding flesh if not treated promptly.

**Rattus norvegicus. The common rat. Edible if cooked. Known to be carriers of diseases. (Especially if they were put here to do just that...) These guys are EVERYWHERE and some of them get to sizes that might make you wonder if they are cross breeding with stay dogs. And if you explores the tunnels, beware the mythical rat king a massive bundles of rats whose tails have knotted together.

Foodstuffs.

Both the rats and pigeons are edible. In additions, some of the restaurants might have food tucked into the back, in various states of edible.

Dripping water can be found in many places. Drink at your own risk. Some is fine, some...not so much.

As always, we here at The Games would like to wish you a very happy Hunger Games!

May the odds be ever in your favor.

Comments

Clint Barton | MCU | OTA

[cognitived]

It all starts rather abruptly. One minute he's back home and in the next he's blinking awake in some strange place, getting himself sedated when he tries to fight his way out. The welcoming speech is a haze, fuzzy around the edges thanks to the drugs, but it's not the first time he's heard a monologue while drugged. This is, however, the first time he's found himself forcibly placed in some modern day gladiator battle. The world around them coalesces into some broken down building, dark and slowly crumbling around them. It's -- well, it's actually not as bad as he expected.

There's the steady breathing of people around him, and the glowing count down offers a rallying point. It seems to take hours for the clock to hit 1, but at the sound of the bell Clint's racing forward, faster than most of his fellow Tributes. He doesn't stop to think, snatches crowbar from the floor and a canteen of water as he goes skittering past, sweeping out to push a would be attack away. There's no higher thought than: get away, find shelter, bunker down. The tracker in his arm means there's no place to really hide from the game maker's eyes, and he knows there's got to be cameras everywhere in this place. Maybe he could have snagged a knife and cut out his tracker, but a building like this? Self contained. The only way out is to play by their rules, and those rules aren't exactly ones he likes.

So Clint stalks down a darkly lit hallway, crowbar in hand, ears and eyes straining for any hint of danger. And then, of course, the lights go out all together, leaving him in the pitch black of room with footsteps echoing like homing beacons. Just, peachy.

[arrogantalloy]

Tony had wasted very little time either, however he ignored any weapon in favour of just the back pack, scooping it up as he kept on running. At his age, running wasn't exactly his most favourite of things to do, however all he knew is he had to out run the chaos of the cornucopia and lay low.

After all, it's worked out for him well so far, he might as well keep it up.

After wandering around with deliberate aimlessness, Tony soon found himself along the same hallway as Clint, not that he knew who was ahead of him exactly, it was two dim to make out anything other than a mostly human shape, and really most everyone in the games were very human shaped for the most part. Not the turtle or the dragon, but the majority.

He had every intention of ducking out of the hallway the second he could not only to give the man in front of him less reason to turn and charge him, but also to get away from the slowly deafening noise of both of their footsteps against every available surface.

And then the lights went out, and Tony didn't have anything like the training Clint had and wasn't really silent about it.

"Oh. Well that's just... great" he grits out before shuffling to the closer wall so he could at least use it to guide him forward and to a different hallway. Both relieved and annoyed that he was brought here after he had his reactor removed.

He needed to get out of the darkness and fast, because he's developed a problem with dark cave-like surroundings for some reason.

[cognitived]

It's both irritating just how easily these hallways pick up sounds and amplify them. Sure, it means he can hear everything rather easily, but so can anybody else who happens by. Clint's steps might be fairly quiet, but that's not enough when he's used to being near silent. At least it's better than whoever is following down the same pathway as he is, because it means he can track them by the cadence of their footsteps. But the echoing noise is messing with his senses, and Clint's not a bat, he can't use echolocation to pick his way through unerringly.

The lights flickering out serves to let his hearing sharpen, now that he knows he can't rely on his vision at all. But that's not really helpful, his vision is what he relies on most after all. He pauses, grip tight on his make shift weapon, slowly scanning from left to right. The footsteps are closer now, slow in the dark, and he can hear a faint grumble.

But that voice had seemed familiar, quiet as it was, and Clint turns on his heel. Again, he pauses, head cocked in case they make another sound. Beneath the sound of footsteps, the twinned breathing is loud, so he slows his breath. A slow sip of air, a slow exhale out - quiet, quiet, quiet. He hates being hunted, something always goes wrong.

[arrogantalloy]

As Tony shuffles along the corridor it doesn't escape him that the only sound left in the hallway was his own loud feet, either the other person had stopped to see if he'd attack them, or they were waiting to pounce on him. It causes his own footsteps to become a lot more hesitant. Death was not at all a good way to start an arena, not in Tony's opinion anyway.

His halting footsteps come to a complete stop as he stares into the darkness ahead of him.

"Okay, you are making this all very intimidating and all. But if you could just keep walking and we can just happily ignore each other until we can just ignore each other until one of us finds an exit."

Despite how hesitant his footsteps had become, his voice however was strong clear, and oh so very dismissive. A tone oh so familiar from any number of press releases or televised summons when he wasn't interested in being talked down at.

[cognitived]

The footsteps turn hesitant, slow and soft, like someone picking their path through difficult terrain. Clint can't help but think that's apt, really. In any case, he's staring down into the dark where Tony is, trying in vain to pick out shapes from the murky hallway. When the footsteps stop, Clint's fairly certain this isn't someone about to try and kill him five minutes into this so called game. But that isn't really reassuring.

So he stays silent and statue-like, listening intently to every squeak and scuttle of rodent paws and the absence of footsteps. His silence is rewarded as he'd assumed it would be, and the silence disperses under the heavy weight of those dismissive words.

But that's -- there's no way. Clint freezes, blinking in the dark, but the more Tony rambles on, the more sure he is. His voice hitches, incredulous all the way, even as he turns and takes a couple steps towards where he can hear Tony's hesitant footsteps.

"Stark?"

[arrogantalloy]

Tony has heard his name said so incredulously so many times, both back home and here, that the tone doesn't even register in his mind. The voice does seem familiar enough however, though with only hearing his name to go on he can't be too sure.

"Why is it that so many people sound so surprised that I'm here?"

He shifts his weight which has his feet scuffing the ground and crosses his arms in the darkness, sure, no one can see it but there's a principle to be had here.

[cognitived]

He doesn't believe it, at first. In fact, Clint doesn't want to believe it at all. He wavers where he stands, booted feet quiet as a cat even as he resettles his weight and the heft of the crowbar in his hand. But the longer Tony speaks, the cadence of his voice despite the scuttle of rats, the more Clint realizes he has to know.

He rolls his shoulders, crowbar lowering, even if he can bring it to fore within seconds should he need it. There's a snort, more wry humor than anything.

"What, you'd want everyone to know you're here?" Dry as a desert, Clint's long since relied on his humor in difficult situations.

[arrogantalloy]

"That's not the issues, it's people being surpri-"

Tony narrows his eyes at the darkness, while he hadn't exactly spoken to Clint all that much, but there was certainly something about the delivery did cause Tony to feel he was right about this.

"When you're done, Drake Mallard, would you like to shuffle your way over here. I'm really not enjoying rats running over my feet while I'm trying to figure out if you're going to attack me."

[honeyibrokeharlem]

Bruce avoids the Cornucopia entirely. Without the Hulk, he's not the strongest or the fastest, but he's one of the best at disappearing and blending in. He plans on disappearing until he finds one of the people he trusts (which is mostly limited to the Avengers).

So he's already deep in the tunnel when he hears soft footsteps. And the power cuts out.

Of course.

He can hear rats squeaking. Sometimes they crawl over his feet. He presses against the wall, breathing as quietly as possible, straining his ears for the footsteps. He's a good enough fighter to handle most average people, but a lot of the tributes here aren't average. Better to try to avoid getting noticed than to actually confront anyone this early in the games.

[cognitived]

They're not deep into the building yet, but Clint can hear the inner workings of the building. It's falling about around them, crumbling slowly under water damage and neglect. The rats probably don't help either, but Clint's lived and worked in places worse off than this -- he moves forward even though the rats crawl over his feet fearlessly.

The faint sound of fighting from the Cornucopia lingers, teasing just at the edge of his hearing the further Clint goes. That noise, combined with the way the power fizzles and cuts out, means that Clint nearly misses the soft scuttle of feet as Bruce presses close to a wall. The sound of breathing is lost under the scurry and squeak of rats, and for a moment, Clint loses track of whoever is in this tunnel with him. Which is really a terrible idea and he's kind of berating himself for it. Given the situation, it's likely they're one of two people: The weaker person trying to hide out, or the guy who lurks in the shadows and preys on them. Clint's really hoping its the former, and he can just head right on by without any problem. He's really not looking forward to this.

So, crowbar in hand, Clint stays in what he assumes is the middle of the path ready to leap to one side and book it should problems arise. But he pitches his voice, not loud enough to draw attention from further back, and scans the tunnel before him. He can't see much at all.

"I don't want any trouble--" Yeah, like he'll get that wish, "Just looking to move on, man."

[honeyibrokeharlem]

Bruce is a very paranoid man. The reassurance could easily be an attempt to have him speak and locate him for killing that way, but something's off.

His ears perk. He knows that voice. He chews the inside of his cheek, trying to think of where he knows it from. He hadn't spoken to Clint Barton at all before the attack on New York, but he had spoken to the man afterward. Their interactions were generally brief or entirely nonverbal. But Bruce had a very good memory, and the fact that the man had saved the world with him meant that he was much more easily remembered than most people.

Bruce still couldn't be sure. He risked leaning forward, straining his eyes in the dark, waiting for a flicker of light to see if his guess was right. The motion makes a soft rustling sound, but hopefully the squeaks of the rats covers that up.

[cognitived]

Clint's memory of the battle on New York, and the days before and after it, are pockets of crystal clarity amid a whole lot of nothingness. Loki's control scares him still, months after he was taken, and so Clint holds tight to what hours he remembers. Should Bruce speak up, Clint would remember him. He wouldn't necessarily be completely relaxed, of course, but well, who would be in a place like this? A former, and so very brief, teammate would be welcomed.

As it is, Clint breathes shallowly, straining his hearing to place anything unusual despite the general noise of the rats. There's a faint rustling sound, the only hint that the person in the tunnel is still there, but it's not enough to pinpoint. Clint's fingers tighten around the heft of the crowbar in his hand, the dark of the tunnel working against him. He doesn't dare speak up again, lest the other person is targeting him, and takes quiet steps forward.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CLINT.

[atoner]

The only weapon Natasha has to her name is the metal cord now wrapped around one of her wrists, but it's all the weapon she really needs. She didn't really run for the cornucopia, she snatched a pack from the edges and let the rampant bloodshed to everyone else. Because Nat knows that she doesn't need weapons to kill. She's been killing with nothing but her bare hands for years now.

She's quiet, and when the lights go out, she becomes a ghost. She's stealthy enough to sneak up on a god, and despite the heavy boots, her footsteps are silent. Unlike the other person who happens to be occupying this room. A person she probably has a slight advantage over, given they don't know she's here yet.

Not that she knows anything about them, either. It's a tough situation to be in, but Nat moves forward with the cord in her hands like a garrotte. When the lights flicker for the slightest second, she must seem like a ghost that appeared out of nowhere.

TASHA

[cognitived]

There had been a faint hope that a bow would be there, and the weight of a quiver against his back went miles to grounding Clint. Even when Loki -- well, let's just say that Clint views his archery as a major part of himself. Sure, he's fully capable of killing with nothing but his bare hands -- nearly as good as Natasha herself, probably -- but Hawkeye is the man with a bow and arrow.

Either way, he doesn't bother thinking about it. In here, his archery isn't as useful as it could be. And with the lights flickering in and out, hand to hand really is the best option. In any case, Clint's footsteps aren't the quietest here, but they aren't the steady, heavy steps these boots would draw from most. Natasha can track him, and she is, but she always was quieter. Clint's on high alert, and this entire place has him on edge but even when the lights cut out and flicker back on for a second he isn't expecting to see someone loom out of the dark like a damn ghost.

There's not a single sound, but he ducks and spins away quickly. Its dark enough to leave the both of them looking like little more than shadowy figures; Clint crouched down, crowbar at ready, Natasha light upon her feet, reassessing as she knows best.

[atoner]

It's the way he ducks and spins. Even here in the dark, it sparks a memory in Natasha. Well, after spending so many years fighting beside him, she knows Clint. The way he moves. He'd done the same thing during their fight on the helicarrier. It's him, isn't it? She's...about 80% sure.

Well. 80% is enough to make her stop with the intention of garotting someone, at least. In the silence, her voice is sharp, cutting through the darkness.

"Clint," is all she says. And sure, if it isn't him, it's a little risky giving away her position like that, but it's a risk she'll take. One that she's assessed that she's perfectly capable of taking. If she's wrong, she'll move. Regroup, reassess.

But she's pretty sure she's not wrong.