The Gamemakers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gamemakers) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecircus2013-02-03 04:22 pm
gamemakers) wrote in thecircus2013-02-03 04:22 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE ARENA 002
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 they choose. Even cast members who aren't or are no longer tributes. Since this meme is taking place between Arenas 03 and 04, you may play your character as though they have been sent into this arena after Arena 03, CR and in-game history intact. OR. You may play your character as having a clean slate; as though this is their very first Hunger Games. Or, at least the first one they can remember.
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 favour.
Post apocolyptic grand central image from here
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 they choose. Even cast members who aren't or are no longer tributes. Since this meme is taking place between Arenas 03 and 04, you may play your character as though they have been sent into this arena after Arena 03, CR and in-game history intact. OR. You may play your character as having a clean slate; as though this is their very first Hunger Games. Or, at least the first one they can remember.
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.
**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 favour.
Post apocolyptic grand central image from here
no subject
This isn't like sneaking her out of the airport. Other Dead he can handle. It's these other Tributes he isn't so sure about. They're way faster, with a lot more to lose than any zombie. This is way worse than someone being hungry enough to make a pass at her.
R doesn't complain as Julie takes his hand in his - he'd never complain - and stumbles along after her, nearly tripping on her heels as they go deeper and deeper into the Arena. The Living heat radiating out her hand taunts him, his fingers flexing against hers as he ducks his head to avoid braining himself on a low-slung pipe. If she knows where they're going, she isn’t sharing it with the class and maybe, just, maybe, there’s a part of R that doesn’t want to know. He almost prefers to believe she has more of a plan than he does.
The tunnels lead to a drainage pipe, grated and green with old algae. The water trickling out looks pretty foul, R starting toward it. He reaches down and tries pulling on it.
“Remove?” R tries to convey what he means by tugging at it again, more insistently. “You…hide here.”
Yeah, that’s totally an amazing plan. The sad part is it took him the whole trip to come up with something even that basic.
no subject
The lights flickered, giving flashes of long-eroded paint or a poster or something, lining both sides of the walls. She traces it with her free hand as they move, stopping where it's abruptly eroded away, part of the wall collapsing into a pile of bricks. If they're really lucky, the tunnels might collapse on them.
Not as bad as the pipe. It oozes thick, dark water and smells just as appetizing. The tunnels are bad enough, but the thought of squeezing into something a little more claustrophobic wasn't exactly appealing. "Seriously?" It's a pretty crap plan when she's stuck without a weapon, food, or drinkable water. No way she's risking that. "And what're you planning on doing, Mr. Zombie? Stumbling around until someone knocks your head off?"
no subject
"Protect," R says with a wheeze. "I'll...stop them."
He feels more stung than he wants to admit. Does she have to throw out the word "stumbling" like that? He's good at stumbling and lurking in the shadows and that, coincidentally, makes him half-way decent at ambushing (provided he doesn't groan at the wrong time. He doesn't tell Julie that's happened before). If R stays in the shadows, then he thinks he has a good chance at taking down anyone trying to go for her. It's the best - make that only - plan he has. Apparently he's a one trick pony, because he defaults to Stash Julie Someplace and Hope For the Best yet again.
That there can be only one winner of the Games doesn't dawn on him.
R stands there ankle deep in the filthy water, trying to return that challenging stare of Julie's and annoyed to realize he can't ever match it. Talk about one-sided.
no subject
This is her turf, the two of them surrounded by the Living. The desperate kind, the kind that slit a throat just to stay alive an extra day. She knows what it's like. She remembers.
Look, she trusts him. After all the near-death rescues, kind of hard not to. But they're still people, and people know to go for the head if a thing won't stop moving. She can't exactly trust there aren't others who won't group up to take people down. Hoping for the best isn't her style.
"We can go deeper, follow the tunnels down. Or up. I think they're still picking through the Cornucopia, so any direction opposite that." It's a terrible plan. All of them are, because this is a thoroughly shitty situation. But she's not leaving him to be her weird undead guardian, and she's sure as hell not spending another three days cooped up anywhere because he thought it was a good idea. She shrugs, and there's something lost in it. "I'm not living in a pipe."
no subject
Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best of plans. He liked it.
"Not...a bad...pipe," R insists, sounding for a ridiculous second like a realtor. He already knows as he's forcing out the last few moans that it's a losing battle. Ultimately he'll end up rolling over for Julie. "Oh...kay. Down.”
Down it is. R is already turning away from the pipe’s grating, as if out of sight out of mind, and hopes Julie knows what she’s doing because in his opinion she’s exposing herself more than she has to. The issue of feeding the Living girl hasn’t cropped up yet and she hasn’t mentioned it, although it hangs in the air and R knows provided they make it through the night (day?), it’s going to going to be a problem. He doesn’t know this place as well as he did the airport. It’s going to be a lot harder to get her fed this time. R’s gray eyes slide over to Julie as he stumbles along next to her, trying to keep any worry from showing up on his dead man’s face.
no subject
There's a hint of a smile, a snort that's almost a laugh and very undignified. Luckily she's not exactly worried about impressing a dead guy. She figures it's probably not that hard to do, either way. (It's a really crappy pipe.)
At least they don't have to argue about it and make themselves an easier target. Just -- keep moving. It's a good way to be less of a target, get some searching done in between all the hiding and... the hiding. She takes the lead, not that it's by much, and tries to hide the fact that she has no goddamn idea what she's doing. She knows she doesn't want to hide, yeah, but what's that gonna end up with? Her getting stabbed in the back? She's just lucky she didn't see any guns in that pile, that she's holding onto the hope there weren't any in the first place. Two moving figures in a tunnel? Talk about an easy target.
She looks at him from her peripheral, nearly used to it. He stares. He's a starer as much as he's a shrugger. Both are intensely annoying. Maybe it's a chore for him to blink.
The quiet's choking.
"One of them got you in the leg," she says, and this time she turns to look up at him. It's not exactly accusatory, what she says next, but it's not happy. "How many did you eat?"
no subject
“Uhhhhhh.” Already R’s off to an amazing start. “Just the…the one.”
Like one or two or ten makes a difference. Smooth as ice, R. There’s no way he sucked this hard when he was alive. The truth is R doesn’t even know how many people he’s pigged out on over the years and having someone actually asking for any kind of number, even for just today, is way out of left field. The zombie senses he probably should say something else so it’s not totally awkward between them. Julie’s disappointment hangs there, alive, breathing. R’s mouth works, as if he’s silently spelling out the words before he throws them out there in the musty air, testing them out, getting those vocal chords ready to go.
They hit an intersection before R is finished drafting up his sentence, his dragging footsteps echoing down the tunnels. “Sorry. I…re..acted. Instinct. Work…ing on…it.”
Julie’s incredibly – insanely, even – understanding for a Living, but she has a limit somewhere in there and R knows he has to shuffle carefully. R’s head tilts as someone screams in the distance, what sounds to him like death throes echoing back to them. Another Tribute, gone.
no subject
This time her only answer is a shrug, not feeling generous enough to keep it from hanging in the air. She gets it, the whole -- he's trying, he's trying a hell of a lot more than any Dead ever should or even should be able to. It's instinct. They can't help it. Anywhere else, she might've laughed at a zombie apologizing.
Instinct. Like shooting a kid's face off with a shotgun when he tries to down you. She knows. She doesn't have room to be judgmental in this world. Or their world, at least.
As Julie measures out the chances of where each split-off tunnel leads, she flinches at the sound. Twenty, at least. "I get it, R. It happens." It's easier to slough that weight off her shoulders when he isn't the only killer in here. The whole game's about killing, it's the point. It wouldn't be any different than throwing a few humans into a lion pit.
"When I was a kid, Dad used to tell me it was a dog-eat-dog world. I don't think he meant it literally at the time." That'd been before she'd seen her first Dead, before she'd known about him. Before she was ten with her first gun and already getting killer aim. "We've gotta survive. We're not gonna have any help this time." Not from the Living, not from the Dead. She took his hand again and pulled towards the tunnel between the scream and the opposite direction, where the lights flickered bright enough she could see the edge of an escalator. Down. Might lead somewhere good.
no subject
R decides right now it’s probably easiest to keep his mouth shut, stare at Julie and let her get it out of her system because he’s pretty sure she isn’t done talking. It’s not like a conversation with another Dead, where a word or two is already considered as hitting it off. And then…she tells him about more of her life. R’s able to cheat with what he stole from Perry, yeah, but it’s not the same as hearing it in Julie’s words, from her throat, and anyway, Perry doesn’t – didn’t - know everything. There are plenty of holes that Julie herself would have to fill in. Even the scraps, little tidbits of information, feel important.
Dog-eat-dog. Yeah, he’s seen enough of General Grigio through Perry to get an impression. Not a positive thinker is the extra-polite way of putting it. The man lives and breathes the apocalypse almost as much as any zombie R’s ever seen back home.
Julie grabbing his hand in hers, all on her own, makes R brave. It jolts through him….and he doesn’t think it’s just because of his leg stumbling up against rubble. It’s her. “Make…it work. Other Trib...others…avoid dark….places. Ambush. Tog...ether.”
It’s a plan if you look at it sideways and bonus, it doesn’t involve Julie hiding in a slimy pipe until it all blows over. Instead he’s trying to offer her the other option. The one where they’re in this together, equally. He wishes he didn’t have to throw Julie into the middle of a coming bloodbath. The idea of it terrifies him, which is surprising when he’s used to being flatlined up until now, not feeling terror, not feeling much of anything but boredom and hunger. It’s almost dizzying. R carefully squeezes Julie’s hand back, leeching some of that Living warmth away from her.
He isn't sure if she understands. Down it is. The zombie starts to lurch toward that broken escalator until they're right at the edge, peering down into the darkness. No screams from this end. No scrapping sounds or scuffles, either. Quiet as a grave.
no subject
She looks at him, a downward tilt to her brows. It's a long, considering look, as if she's waiting for the other foot to hit the ground. She's used to protect, protect, protect, the idea of being proactive. Killing in defense is different than ambushing some person and offing them. She's never done that. It's always about finding the right corner and shooting anything that gets too close.
God. For a second, she's going to refuse. But she thinks: Nora wouldn't pause a second. She's used to doing whatever it takes. She didn't have a general to keep her safe, locked in the stadium. And Nora taught her more to surviving than Dad ever could.
He gets a squeeze back as her breath shudders out. She's not gonna lie and say the idea isn't scary as fuck. She doesn't want to become someone like Perry, who doesn't see people anymore, who just sees bodies. But then she thinks of someone getting R in the head and it fucks with her more than anything.
At least he's not trying to decide things for her own good.
"Okay," she decides. God, what other choice does she have? She can't hide forever, and she's not letting someone take R down because she got scared. She takes the first step down the escalator, slow so he can keep up. "We look for weapons first. I can make do with a bat if that's all we can find." She shrugs, then almost laughs because it feels like she's turning into one. A shrugger. "Try to find a gun, though. I'm seriously better at looking down a barrel."
And not getting too close. That kept people alive. She'd know.
no subject
There’s something different about these shadows. They feel like they’re shifting. Maybe it’s a leftover human thing, R thinks, an unease gnawing at his bones and skin. Nameless. Old as the Boneys. Maybe older. He suspects he doesn’t like it.
R realizes after a long moment that Julie is looking up at him, the zombie turning his head slightly to stare back. What’s she thinking? What’s going on behind that face, animated, with full person behind those eyes? Who is she, really? He can almost see the thoughts flashing across her face, too fast to follow. R strains to get a read on her, feeling like he could pop something if he keeps it up. It’s way more challenging than he’s used to, that’s for sure. Eventually Julie breathes out a reluctant sigh and comes up with a plan to tackle that strange darkness. It doesn’t even take that long, compared to his.
Of course she goes for the survivor’s plan: get armed first, preferably with a gun. Everything else next. Typical.
He follows behind Julie as she takes the plunge a step at a time.
“Will…do. Keep…eye out,” R wants to make it a promise, cross his heart, hope to die. Does it count if you’re already dead?
They’re already halfway down the escalator, R shuffling off a layer of filth from the steps as he drags his sneakers, when the thought hits him like a headshot right in the frontal lobe. Bringing this up is all kinds of tacky, but -
“Guy…I ate. Had…mache…big knife,” R says. “Maybe it’s…still…there?”
If it is, they might have to loop back. Or some other Tribute probably searched whatever was left. It’s times like this R wishes he was as quick on his feet as Julie – he would’ve thought to do something as incredible as picking up the machete when it was there at his feet. Not way after the fact.
no subject
She'd say she feels like a rats if the rats in these tunnels didn't have a hell of a lot more freedom.
Julie stops when he does, a step below him, adding on to the already impressive height difference between them. Then her eyes grow wide, her head jutting forward as she stares up at him. "A machete? Jesus R, why didn't you fucking say that?" Guy I ate. Ignoring that. Really ignoring it. The important part is the weapon, the machete. A damn machete. She's pretty sure ninety-nine percent of people wouldn't risk getting near anyone wielding one of those.
She needs it. Already imagining the hard handle in her hand has her feeling better. In her desperation, it feels worth it just to go back.
"How long ago was that?"
in which R is the least helpful
“An…hour?” R’s moan actually sounds sheepish. He isn’t sure, he doesn’t usually keep track of silly things like time. “…More?”
For a zombie, an hour isn’t long at all. It’d probably take him an hour just to get from Security to Lost and Found. An hour could be forever to a Living girl like Julie, though, and that’s the problem. Someone could’ve decided to dig through the ribs and leftover meat he left behind in an hour, easy. Just because he moves slow doesn’t mean everyone else does. Not here. R looks down at Julie that step below him, her hair still bright against the flickering lights, her scrunchy face out in full force.
R isn’t qualified to say what’s cute these days but he does know he thinks it’s a nice expression. It doesn’t change the fact there’s a Schrödinger’s machete floating around.
I'm crying about everything
Or maybe she's just grasping at straws here. It's always better to have something to do. A mission -- ugh. That's Dad in her, turning people into tools. Giving them a reason to live other than living.
Dammit. An hour. That's probably an hour in Dead-time, too. She shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest. Look, she's really trying her patience already, and she can't help the nagging voice that reminds her that having a Living friend here would give her better odds. Both of them would have better odds.
"It's not worth it." Not since it's probably gonna take another hour for R to shuffle his way back. As human as he can be in other ways, moving still isn't one of them. And staring. Julie's noticed that he doesn't blink, not near as much as he should. Guess she's used to it by now.
"Come on, let's keep going down here." Away from the scream. Maybe they'd be lucky enough to find whoever'd gotten that machete. As long as she was quick enough to avoid losing a limb.
This time when she peers up at him, there's a bit of a mischievous edge to her lips. She's already let that machete go. Nothing was permanent at home, she's guessing the same goes here. (It's not so bad, being alone with him. Not getting chased by the Dead or those Boney things.) "Don't tell me you're trying that 'cause you're scared of the dark down there." She didn't miss that he decided to remember this halfway down the damn escalator.
Excellent
That’s a better word: evolves. Better sound. R likes it starts with a vowel.
R twitches his mouth into a frown. “Not…scared. Can’t.”
The zombie tries to look as unscared as you can even get for Julie. He thinks he succeeds. Sorta. Okay, maybe not so much, but he gets points for trying. It’s hard to look anything when your facial muscles are frozen in rigor mortis 90% of the time. R doesn’t know how to tell her that he did feel…something looking into that darkness. The words just aren’t there. They bleed out like he probably did out when he died. He needs time to digest it, that’s all. R only gives a shrug, as if to drive in how totally not scared this corpse is, and swings his head down to the shadows pointedly.
“I’ll…go first,” R says, suffering a moment of chivalry. He thinks it’s chivalry. There’s no point to holding doors for girls anymore. The least he can do is take point.
R starts to push past Julie, actually glad he pigged out. With that Tribute he ate buzzing around his cells, his brain, R doesn’t feel much of that tug toward Julie, pointing at her being Living and demanding he fix it. For now R thinks he’ll have no problems concentrating. Julie deserves better than wandering across rat-shit covered escalators with a dead guy, in his opinion, and she definitely doesn’t deserve any of those Tributes gunning for her. R surprises himself by grinding his teeth together at the thought. Anything happening to Julie seems to set off that reaction, come to think of it - M coming at her, the Boneys trying to pass judgment because she was anti status-quo and could actually motivate. It’s a dangerous word to the Boneys, “motivation”.
She brings that out in people, R sees that now. It just…didn’t work with Perry.
no subject
At least it's the first time she can say she's seen a zombie look indignant.
(Kinda proves her point, though. Taking the lead.)
Julie lets him by with a stifled laugh, just so she doesn't have to suffer some kind of male ego bruising here. And -- okay, look, she's not that thrilled herself about stumbling around in the dark. The lights keep flickering on and off, just daring her to get stuck somewhere shitty so they can shut off and leave her in total darkness. Can zombies see in the dark? Pretty sure no. They stumble around badly enough in the daytime; it probably gets worse at night.
It's really startling, the kinda stuff she has to think about when a zombie's on her side. Temporarily or not.
"Can you even see down there?" So curiousity takes advantage of her. Maybe they should be trying to find a flashlight. Or a lighter. Desperate times. "Or can you, like... smell your way through?" It's important to know. She's seen more than her share of zombies sniffing the air, and the whole blood-on-her-face-thing... yeah. Let's hope that never happens again.
no subject
“Lots…of…smells,” R admits. He’s the first to make to the bottom of the escalator, R peering into the shadows. He can’t see much more than she does, but the smells do jump out at him. Life…here and here and oh yeah, over there. Small. Not what that hunger needs. Probably more rats. They don’t pull at him with the same kneejerk reaction he gets around, say, someone like Julie. They’re there, though, if he concentrates past the general smell of rot and mold and dead things in the dark.
“…Cuh-clear.”
Maybe he’s playing at being an army puke today or maybe it’s something he remember from his Living days. Too much Call of Duty or Medal of Honor? Who knows. All he does know is he gives it his stamp of approval, for all that’s worth, and R even flaps a hand at Julie to give his all-clear. He’d give her a thumbs up if he knew how. (R wishes he had a machete to give to Julie, though).
R stands there waiting for Julie. He refuses to shuffle off until he knows where she is. She brings this weird, funky little focus spearing through his grey matter and he’s determined not to disappoint. Maybe he didn’t nab her a machete, but he can at least help her through the tunnels, maybe nab her a little dinner if she doesn’t mind rats. R’s hand comes back groping for hers.
no subject
She snorts again, obviously very dignified. Unfortunately, she was raised by a general. She recognizes the sign for what it should be.
"You really gotta work on those." Plenty of time later. Right. She clears the escalator, the lights clicking off completely the moment she hits the ground.
Knew it. Knew it was gonna happen.
A hand hits her hip and she stifles a noise that's much closer to a gasp than a snort. "Hey, watch it." Guess she's really stuck holding a corpse's hand in the dark. (If he decided to eat her now, she wouldn't have a chance.) Her fingers slip between his, steady steps next to him. As much as she's not up for letting R lead the way, she's gotta admit he has a slightly better chance of maneuvering. Mostly because she's impatient as hell to find her way outta this.
"We're fine." Yeah. She takes a breath, exhales. The darkness closes in, more than choking. "Try not to run us into a wall."
no subject
It makes him think miracles can happen.
He's still off in his own little daydream, not doing a very good job “watching it”, when he registers Julie speaking again. Sheepishly R snaps back to attention. She knows he has a habit of drifting off and that’s decent of her to be willing to work around that. It’s not decent to go wandering off in his head when she can get ambushed any second if he doesn’t keep it together. R slaps that daydream away, tries his best to forget about feeling that Something, and focus on the now.
“Will…do…” R groans.
He isn’t sure how long they travel in the dark. Not hours, probably. R shambles along, shoes scuffling despite his best attempts to keep quiet. Julie breathes behind him, loud, almost as loud as her heartbeat. Is just him, zeroing in on her being Living? Is he imagining it? R can’t begin to tell the two apart at this point. His head hangs down, eyes forward as he trudges along with Julie. They reach another fork, R veering toward the right one as if something pulls at him. The service tunnel widens into a set of train-tracks, R pausing as he glances around like a dead kid looking both ways before crossing the street, his head flopping first one way and then the other. Maybe he used to be paranoid before he died. Didn’t seem like it helped him in the end.
Peering down the tracks, he can see that one way is blocked by a lot of debris, more scummy water trickling down. The other way looks more or less clear. If they follow the tracks…
R likes what he sees. “Maybe…train here. Shelter.”
no subject
It's weird, though. She doesn't want to mention it -- least to all him (where the hell was Nora when she needed her?) -- but it kind of sucks, being in the dark. Not because, hello, she can't see shit, but because she can't see him. There's something curious there, that's all. Something to watch. The kind of thing that had her trust him in the first place; it wasn't the Sinatra or the snowglobes or him protecting her. Honestly, that all helped, but it wasn't that something. The cant to his head or something.
She wonders if he's cautious or just slow on receiving new information. She's never felt like he's slowm not in general. The staring's kind of creepy, yeah, but she shouldered it as gracefully as she could.
-- Right. Tracks. Only one of them is daydreaming.
She follows what she can see of his gaze, the lights down this tunnel buzzing like flies, but working. They're dim like they're about to blow, but it's something. Enough for her to see the outline of the tunnel, the shine of the tracks.
"Wow. Not bad for a dead guy," she pulls him towards it, agreement with the plan. She hopes it's not another plea to shove her somewhere and protect her, but she can admit the break might be nice. Might be food. Doubtful, but there might be. "You're not doing too bad for yourself, R. At least you get to be stuck with reasonably good company."
no subject
R realizes he wants to hoard those too. It’s a brand new collection. Just started a few days ago.
The zombie doesn’t resist as Julie takes the lead this time, lurching after her (he gets a cobweb to the face, giving the spider a nasty wake-up call), and trying not to get too caught up with the whole hand-holding thing. R follows along, his face doing funny things. It’s trying to smile again on him. He wracks his brain trying to think of how many times he’s tried in the past. There’s not many. In fact he can count them and this is coming from the guy who can’t even count to three on the bad days. Now he twitches his face into a smile behind Julie and it feels good, right, dusty but he can work with that.
R groans from behind her. “Good…company? Try…great…company.”
Not exactly Mr. Smooth here but since he’s Mr. Zombie, R thinks he has an excuse. He can do cheesy instead. Cheesy makes Julie smile. R gives her hand a squeeze.
The train they find is slanted at a sharp angle where it ran up against the wall, most of the doors blocked or crumpled into sheet metal. R doesn’t like that the windows are all shattered, exposed, and then he realizes he’s still thinking like a Living survivor, trying to put himself in one’s shoes, and that’s impressive he managed to hold onto that for this long. Usually it slides away into the murk. It’s easier to hold onto things with Julie here, for some reason. Don’t ask him why: he doesn’t get it either.
no subject
She can't believe she's seeing a Dead guy smile. It feels pretty sweet. In the weirdest way possible.
"You're really wasting your flattery, Mr. Zombie." Cheesy works, and it's obvious. Try being stuck with a no-nonsense, no-humor general as your only company; anyone would start loving cheesy after that.
Maybe it's not completely wasted, because she squeezes back and leads them inside through a door that's been pried open, or else never got the chance to close before the system died. Broken windows aside, it'll work for now, until they get a solid plan. Solid map. She remembers the path here enough to draw it out if she can find something to draw with. Besides, the windows might be a way for someone to get in, but it's also a way for them to get out. Never trap yourself in a corner. The wall that protects you turn into the wall that breaks you.
She wonders if the train's an other attempt at bottling her like that plane, but she figures he knows better. It's not gonna work. She just wants the break, then they're off again. She's gotta find food soon anyway, whether she's hungry now or not (she is), and water's a must-have. Only way she's drinking tunnel water is if she's absolutely desperate. Not quite there yet.
The seats are mostly in order inside, but the room gets tight near where the walls have curved inward from the train slamming into the wall. She takes one, legs laid out in front.
"I'm starting to miss your records, R. They set the mood pretty well."
no subject
He’s dazzled all over again.
The zombie has a slightly harder time squeezing into the train after Julie. Usually his height’s an advantage when he brings down a full-grown man trying to fight for his life, but when narrow shoulders and a smaller frame are the name of the game, suddenly it’s not helping. R ducks in awkwardly, using the crushed door to force himself inside, feeling even bigger and clumsier than usual and bringing his head up to see Julie glancing around, like she’s casing out the place. Makes sense, her being General Grigio’s daughter. In retrospect, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she hadn’t done the same with his 747. Maybe she rooted through his collection and realized there weren’t any possible weapons. Food for thought, R guesses. It makes him look back on the last couple of days differently.
R finally manages to squeeze his way inside. If he has this much trouble, it means the other Tributes his size might be in the same boat.
“I’ll…bring them next…time,” R says. He stops himself before he shrugs. “Promise.”
The silence that falls isn’t comfortable or awkward. He isn’t sure what to do with it. R stands there while Julie sits and, after a long moment, finally comes up with the idea to sit across the aisle. With the train car crumpled, they’re close enough that he can almost bump knees with her.
Since they’re not going with his previous plan, R tries to be proactive. It’s harder than it looks, trying to look forward into the future and make plans and trying makes him all too aware of the cobwebs and dust in his head. R drops his stare from Julie’s pink flush to his own hands in his lap in order to concentrate.
“Metal…here. Weapon?” R looks up. He mimes a pulling motion, back and forth, aping Julie and him working a piece of it free. It’s no knife, but it’s something, right? As far as he can tell, the other Tributes are all Living. They tend to roll over even if they get injured in the stomach or anywhere that’s considered Not a Big Deal to a zombie. The problem is the same applies to Julie. She makes things…complicated.
no subject
She picks her head up to follow his gaze, a look of satisfaction crossing her mind. There you go, she thinks, surprised that maybe she's all up for trying to get him, you know. Kickstarted. Into being something a little closer to Living. Weapon. Makeshift, but it's totally better than nothing. A nice clock on the head from even some pipe is gonna get a lot of people down and out.
"It'll work." She really hopes he's stronger than his spindly frame looks. Looks like it's been loosened by the crash, so that might be in her favor. She motions him to grab it first, then she follows behind. A couple of tugs give them an unsettling creak and the whole train kind of swaying under them, but at least she ends up on her ass with a sizable chunk of damn metal in her lap.
"Awesome." Well. Part of the plan's sealed. Now the rolling in her stomach is making itself more obvious. "Now if we can find water and food before I starve to death, we'll be doing really good."
no subject
At least he thinks there isn't. It's not like R can spell it out.
He turns to find Julie fell on her butt over with that last tug, the big, almost spear-like shard of metal laying in her lap. R sizes up the shard, gives a sagging nod of approval because it looks long enough to impale a grown man, easy, and starts to reach down and help Julie back to her feet. He also adds that "awesome" to his collection while he's at it. Multi-tasking gets easier and easier the more he does it.
"Water...everywhere. Rats...could be…food?" R tries to sound productive and optimistic. “Not…so bad. Tastes…like…ch…”
The rest of what he means to say slips away. Instead he shrugs. Again.
He can’t look horrified at the idea of Julie starving to death, not with this face, and R can only stare at her, his eyebrows trying to knit together. It’s not a pretty image. He’s seen both Living and Dead starve. Other zombies wither and stop. With the Living, it’s a lot worse. Quicker, but ugly. (And wasteful, but R refuses to share that with the class). R feels a surge of protectiveness claw up in him again, so strong it makes him want to gasp for air. He shoves away the image of Julie becoming hollow, all sharp angles, withering to nothing in fast forward. It’s harder now to maintain his positive thinking with that hanging over their heads.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)