bakerstreet | the hunger games meme.

Entry tags:

the hunger games meme.

warning for adult content and possible triggers:
violence, death, nonconsent and all around questionable situations.

THE HUNGER GAMES MEME

Congratulations, Tribute.

You have been selected to participate in the Hunger Games.

The rules are simple: there can only be one victor.
You have to kill everyone else or die.

The last one standing wins.
May the odds be ever in your favour.

⚔

OPTIONS FOR THE SCENARIO-MINDED:

1. ENEMIES: in for the kill
The truth is you've been plotting each other's death for a long time. The only thing different about this situation is that everyone else actually wants you to off each other. Who cares if both of you are probably going to die anyway: no one is taking this bastard down except you.

2. ROMANCE: lovers in a dangerous time
What do lovers do when they know they're about to die? Last kiss, last words, last fuck? Maybe you're desperately trying to protect each other from the rest. Maybe you're the last two left alive. What sacrifices are you willing to make? How far will you allow each other to go?

3. ALLIES: set your arms down
It's in both of your best interests to stick together. Two together is more deadly than one, and you can pool supplies and weapons. Of course, this arrangement is most definitely temporary. Maybe it'll fall apart tonight, or tomorrow, or next week. Maybe your alliance has already run its course, and it's about to fall apart...right now.

4. TORTURE: death's not the worst
Sure, the point is to kill them. But why leave it at that? Maybe you've always secretly gotten off on this sort of thing, or maybe you've just cracked under the stress. When everyone is going to die, there's no point in sticking to all those rules society laid down for you any more. You've already incapacitated them; there's no way they can fight back. Might as well have some fun, right?

5. VICTORY: the finish line
You've done it. Last one standing. You've chosen to live, and no one but you knows how much that choice cost you, because they're all dead. At this point there's nothing that will stop you from stepping up to claim victory. You killed every other tribute. Or did you?

6. OTHER: write your own story
Anything and everything you can think of. In the arena, there are no rules.

⚔

Let the Games begin.

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[This broad is pretty cool.

He'll never admit it, of course, because he's Slim fucking Shady and nobody thought to track down the slippery stick figure of a thirteen-year-old until he'd already gutted the best Career in his sleep and ganked his bitchin' sword. But if Blondie didn't warn him away from what he'd since dubbed the Watering Ass Hole, he probably...well, it probably would have been hard to look cool with his hand burned off with acid, but Dave's sure he could've pulled it off. Still, good enough a reason to stick around, at least for a little while.

He probably looks like he could be her (infinitely more swag) little brother, and maybe that's pleasing the audience because it's been at least half an hour since Those Cocksuckers tried to steer them into a bear trap, where a bear trap means a trap with hungry, rabid werebears in it. He's getting edgy, though. They're waiting for something. The showman in him knows it's time for a show.]

So did you pick me up for my body or what.

[ Roxy glances back at Dave, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. The arena this year was made of sand and gutted ruins, one of which they were currently huddled in for momentary shelter. It wouldn't do to stay someplace this obvious for long, but little swagmeister was gonna die from heat exhaustion if they didn't spend a couple minutes in shade. Roxy has no problem with the heat, having stripped off most of her uniform as soon as the Game began. Funny how much easier it was to raid to Cornucopia when everyone is trying to figure out what to make of the girl ripping her shirt in half.

They'll find real water soon, not the trap Dave had almost fell face first into. ]

I picked you up because burnt skin and hair is like the worst smell known to man.

[ Reaches out to take Dave's hand and just double check he didn't shove his little mitts in there anyway. Boys and their inability to keep their hands off anything hot. Whether or not its a valid part of this world, Roxy was a mother first, and that instinct to look out for her dependents carries into all mediums. Though feel free to take the action as less than innocent, Dave. ]

[Dave jerks back, hands flying to the leather grip of the ninja sword he carries naked because it had no sheath when he looted it. He crouches like that for a moment, shoulders tense as a bird's the second before flight, before he registers that her hand is empty and open and the gesture wasn't a threat.

He doesn't relax, but he lets go with one hand to wipe his sleeve across his brow. He's gotten rid of as much extra weight as he could, but he needs protection from the sun as much as from the heat, and he lived close enough to the desert to know it gets fucking cold at night.]

Hands off any merchandise you didn't pay for. I know I'm goddamn irresistible, but this isn't the "Please Touch" interactive Museum of Hot Stuff.

[Clearly, he's unhurt. He nods at her.]

Though I see you don't have any problems setting up a window display.

[ Strikes a little pose. Hey, sponsors watching and all. But mostly it was because it was hot as hell, nothing nefarious about this wardrobe change. Or about saving the kid who looks just like another blond rapping dude you know. Nothing nefarious at all.

Rolls her eyes at his remarks, but he's right to tense when she reaches for him. Alliance or not, they're still enemies deep down. ]

A girl does what she has to do.

[ Hesitates and glances back through the broken window, making sure they aren't being followed. Short looks back to Dave, not so much because she doesn't trust him, but just to keep him in her sight. Yeah he's armed and he's probably responsible for one or two of those canon fires but.. he's kinda like a baby bird here. Gotta be kept safe.

The audience is probably betting on this punk slitting her throat. ]

[He checks his sleeve to see how much he's sweating. Okay. Well, at least he still is sweating. He may only be thirteen, but his bro taught him what it means when it's hot and you stop sweating.

He resists the urge to rub his sleepless, hot-gritty eyes and settles his sword comfortably against his hands again.]

So, what, you had to pull my ass out of the steam cooker?

[Because fuck all his posturing, he would have been dead meat in that acid trap and they both know it, and if he's going to watch her back (and he doesn't know when he decided that, he just knows that he will), he wants to know why.

Because even if he's broken his teeth on tesserae since before he could remember, he's a Strider. He's got his pride.

He can't kill a girl who saved his life.]

You remind me of somebody.

[ Yeeeep and her tone says they are leaving it at that. Nods to Dave, brushing past him to find another way out of this building. There are a still a few Careers left, which means there are a couple kids better at tracking than she is at hiding plus ones. On her own, Roxy can cloak herself that she doesn't need to be found unless she won't to be. But maybe that was why the Gamemakers led her to Dave. She can't cloak Dave's location too, and she isn't about to abandon him.

Not yet anyway. ]

D'you have anything to drink?

[ As much as she'd love to be boozin it up like she had in the pre-Games celebrations, she just means water for the moment. ]

[He shrugs and follows her, his footsteps silent on the sand that's piled up inside the ruined building. He knows quiet. He knows how to move. There's a reason he managed to score what he did, that he wasn't immediately slated for death even if he wasn't anything to look at.]

Thought I'd let everyone else at the Corn's shit first. Give them a handicap, even the odds a little.

[He glances behind them once as he speaks and tightens his hands on the sword.]

And then Santa made too much noise coming down the chimney last night to stuff this katana in my stocking. Didn't want to fuck up all the other kids' visions of dancing sugar plum fairies or whatever so I absconded the hell out of there.

[He can still hear the choked noise the Career had made when he'd driven his makeshift knife--just a rock he'd broken into a crude blade--into the soft cavern of his belly, and then up.

It was at night and he's prayed in all those unsleeping hours since that at least Jade didn't see, but he knows they probably replay that shit over people's breakfast cereal. Good morning, Panem.]

[ Little grin. ]

Is that how you always talk? I thought that was just a schtick to make people laugh for the interview.

[ Turns away, still beaming like a proud mom as she shimmies between some fallen walls to crawl out into the bright sun. Shields her eyes and presses on, keeping tight to the side of the building. Keeps at their trek long enough that Roxy gets comfortable, looking back to Dave more than a few times. Checking up on him, making sure he doesn't lag behind, the sun isn't getting to him. So wound up in this she doesn't notice the other Tribute creeping around the same corner she does. Short gasp before the girl- a fishy bitch from 4- takes a fistful of her hair and slams Roxy's head into the wall. What now, Dave! Advance or abscond? ]

What can I say. I'm a fucking natural.

[He's got no trouble keeping up, especially since she's taking such care with him. He almost suggests taking the point, since he's got his shades (his token, his one concession to needing home) and can probably see better in the blinding heat. But "You remind me of somebody" is no reason to trust someone with his back, even weird badass survivor chicks who seem to have taken a shine to him. And he's tired.

And maybe that's why he doesn't see the other girl until she's already got the jump on his savior.

He moves immediately, like battle is the air he breathes, and he slams his foot into the Fourth District Tribute's knee. Too close for swords yet. Can't hurt Roxy. Fighting on sand sucks but they're close enough to the building that he's got solid stone under his feet and the blow has force to it, and he thinks he hears something crunch.

Teeth gritted, he shoves his shoulder and sword between Roxy and the other Tribute and tries to push the new bitch back so he can fight for real.

Fuck. Are there more of them?]

[ When Dave shoves the pther girl, she drags Roxy along by her hair. Her knee is definitely broke, and Roxy is still woozy from the blow to the head, but the two Tributes, tabgled gainst one another, waste no time starting to fight. It'd be a pretty hot chick fight if it didn't end in Roxy embedding the knife in the other girl's throat. She chokes and struggles, blood spurting from the wound when Roxy pulls her knife free. Crouched over the other tribute, blood bubbling from the jagged hole in her throat, Roxy waits for the canon to sound.

Not looking back at Dave, but in no hurry to let anybody sneak up on her again. ]

I don't think she was winning any popularity contests, but someone might've heard this. We should go-

[ Stood up too fast, or maybe it's the headwound she's sporting, Roxy's stance falters, slumping against the wall fof support. ]

[And then Dave is there to catch her, his free arm around her shoulders, and he's tall enough for his age that he's just the right height.]

Whoa there, cowgirl, sit down two seconds and let me see.

[Dammit. He should have been faster. Head wounds bleed like a bitch and he doesn't know first aid from fuck all, patch-ups have always been Bro's job. Still, he tries to shut out the other girl's last dying gasp and--after a good look around--sets down his sword, digs his teeth into the seam of his sleeve up near his shoulder, and after a moment's struggle succeeds in tearing the sleeve off. He slips it off his arm and starts to dab one end at her cut.

The cannon fires and he looks around again for any signs of approach that the sound could mask.]

I guess you don't have water either to clean this shit, right. I'm already sacrificing my delicate porcelain complexion for you here.

[He's suddenly sure no one will come. They'll have found the obvious water. The Careers will be waiting at an oasis, or they'll wait for the cannon to announce their deaths by desert.

He scans the horizon once more, looking not only for enemies but vegetation.]

...Can you walk?

[ Peering back at Dave skeptically as he dabs at the headwound. Not having the best time focusing her gaze can't be a good sign. She fucked up. The disappointment stings worse than the gash on her head. Nah, her head hurts worse.

Smiles, opens her mouth to tell the boy that she can walk, there's a little water in her pack, that he's fussing for nothing- but only has a moment before Roxy turns her head and wretch into the sand. Shit, extra not good sign. ]

Awesome..

Yeah, this is exactly what you'd find under 'awesome' in the dictionary. Field trip's cancelled. Hold tight, I'm bandaging your head.

[She let him dab at it, so he forces himself to relax and not imagine she'll turn and stab him in the neck as he wraps the clean part of his sleeve around her head. He tries not to tie it too tightly, not knowing what else to do.

Done, he picks up his sword again and patrols a circle around her and the dead Tribute, trying to make out any shapes against the rising heat shimmers. He pauses about a foot past the girl's body, squinting through his shades, and then turns to loot her corpse.]

Get back in the shade and hide for a little while. I'll BRB.

[ Taking a few deep breaths as Dave tends to her wound. No point killing him when he's helping her. It would be easy to finish her off like this.. so why not?

Grim smile back to Dave, leaning against the wall to gradually push herself to her feet. Blood oozes from the knife in her grip, under the wrappings of Dave's sleeve. ]

Looks like we're even now.

[Hell yeah, a canteen--fuck, it's empty. Still, it's exactly what he needs, and he slips it into one of the deep pockets of his pants and snaps the flap shut over it before standing.]

I dunno about that. [He watches her stand and is sure he can't take her into the desert right now. He nods over his shoulder. A dark, indistinct something squats low on the horizon.] Maybe after I bring back the groceries. Got a pen, make me a list?

[ Follows his gaze slowly to the shelter, low look back to Dave. ]

We playing house? [Twists the knife in her grip, taking long, measured breaths, focusing on specific points in her vision to keep it from swimming. ] We're even now. You don't owe me anything.

[He knows. And it makes sense to leave her with the corpse there like a homing beacon while he gets the fuck out. He can just imagine Rose dropping stitches while she stares at him on the screen, trying to bore "LEAVE HER, YOU INSUFFERABLE PRICK" telepathically into his brain.

But Bro would be watching, too.

Dave shrugs and rests the dull edge of his sword against his shoulder.]

I hear domestic comedies used to be pretty popular entertainment back before us primitive throwbacks got civilization handed down from the Capitol. How 'bout this, Mom: I'll be back in ten minutes. I'll go as far as I can in five, see what's around, then turn right back so we can argue about who owes who what.

[ He IS being insufferable! There's no reason for this alliance anymore, especially with Roxy teetering on the edge of Super Fucking Concussed. But she smiles involuntarily when he calls her mom- some reason she can't place- and manages a slight nod. Slowly turns her eyes to the shelter Dave gestured to earlier. It's relatively close, and she's going to march straight there without a stumble to prove to Dave she's not as helpless and pathetic as he so clearly thinks. Or maybe it's better if he does think she's helpless, easier to slip the knife through his neck.

Lurching across the sand as fast as she can muster, Roxy tries to push that thought of her mind. He looks like a friend of hers, you don't stab friends. You stab that girl without even thinking of her name- Meenah- but you wouldn't stab Dave after he looked out for you.

When she reaches the shade, Roxy squints through the change in lighting to keep an eye on Dave while he patrols the surroundings. She'll look out for him for now. Her fingers itch around the knife in her hands. But if someone goes after him, you let it lie, she tells herself. You don't kill friends, but somebody else can take them out. Hopefully Janey would understand that. ]

[Dave gives the immediate area a thorough checking-over even though he knows he's wasting time, but the sudden appearance of that girl from District Four unsettled him more than he liked to show. What with the heat and his lack of sleep, he doesn't think he can trust his own judgment unless he makes a big production out of it.

When nobody bothers after a minute to pick off the obviously tired thirteen-year-old kicking around the place, he sets himself at the edge of his self-established perimeter and shades his eyes. There is something out there. He turns towards Roxy's shelter again and holds out his hand, fingers splayed wide. Five minutes, yeah? And then he'll be right back. He doesn't give her a chance to tell him no and heads out, stepping as light as he can in the sand.

When he's far enough away that he figures the heat shimmers must be masking him some, he starts watching the ground. There. Embedded in the wall. The lens clicks and whirs, glassy and metallic and alien. He makes a show of stumbling, tripping over his exhaustion, and whoops-was-that-my-sword-gee-whiz smashes the camera.

And then before they can get a focus on him again, he tenses, breathes in, and falls into the power that let him say, when his name was called and he looked over his shoulder to see his Bro's face, unreadable not from calm but from utter blankness--the power that let Dave say, with half a shrug despite his pounding, traitorous trapped-bird heart, "Hey. I got this, Bro."

He bends a fistful of time around himself and runs.

Dave trudges back just under ten minutes later with two canteens sloshing in his pockets, a backpack over one shoulder, and a sunburn all down his exposed arm so red it seems he must have been out there for an hour. He looks beat enough for that to be true, and he's limping a little. But his sword's dark with blood.

There's the faint whump of an explosion in the distance. Dave lifts his head a little.]

Hey. You miss me?

[ Was just starting to let her head rest against the side of the shelter when a voice hits her ears, then the rumble of an explosion. Wide eyed, shoots straight up. Bled through Dave's sleeve already, hair matted against the side of her head, devoid of the usual blonde color present on the uninjured side.

For half a second she forgot she was in the Games at all. Roxy thought that this was somewhere else, that was Dirk waking her up unkindly from a bender, for the two of them to collaborate on some new inventions. But the boy's face comes into focus, the reflection from his wrongly shaped sunglasses, the subtly different way he stands. Wait, no, that's a fucking limp. And blood and.. wow, lots of supplies, that's cool. But wait! What the shit happened back there?? ]

Did I black out?

[ Glance from the supplies to Dave, trying to get a read on this situation. ]

Where did you get water? The nearest oasis that isn't a fistful of acid is at least fifteen minutes a- What the shit!

[Nope, needs to get up. He let her sleep too long, she can't be wasting time here. Keeping a mental score of how many tributes left, not including them there's seven. Or is it, including them? Wait, did she remember to count the girl from four they just butchered?

Caught up in her thoughts, the void element starts to inch back to life. Getting beat about the head sorta takes it out of a girl, but sleeping, even for a second, has always been a nice kickstart for the element. It probably resembles a blip in the broadcasting, sand in the camera lens, the way Roxy's starting to void out from the radar, Disappear back against the shade. Probably looks creepy as fuck in real life though. ]

[He shrugs and the movement is short and stiff because he's bone-tired and his sunburn hurts like a motherfucker and he just--

There it is. The cannon fires, and Dave doesn't do more than shrug his backpack off and set it down. He's been expecting the cannon. He knows who it's for.]

If you blacked out, can't have been for long. I've only been gone ten minutes, since I figured you'd pine without my glorious presence.

[He crouches to start unpacking the bag--a little light food, crackers and peanut butter, but more importantly there's a whole jar of antiseptic cream. He considers his answer as he unscrews the top.]

Ran into some fucker before I got anywhere near an oasis. The dude from Three. Skinny-ass conksucking bastard. Kinda smart, though, I guess. Dude likes his traps. Pretty good with wires and shit.

Took this stuff from him.

[That's...almost true. Though that guy--Solex or something?--knew better than to leave his precious water. Hence the traps. Dave got lucky with just some shrapnel grazes.

He gets the jar open and then, even though Roxy's right there, pushes his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. After all that time in the glare of the sun, his eyes must not be adjusting well to the shaded shelter.

And then he looks up to see her vanishing into the darkness and his eyes widen like a spooked deer.]

[ Knows that look. Knows that EXACT look, to be honest, that's Dirk's face when she starts to wander off, when he has to grab her shoulders and remind her that if they know you have an element they will put you in the Games. You're supposed to be passive, right, so get to the fucking pass and stop playing around with shit that's bigger than you. The void is comfortable, but that look always snaps her back. She's getting a variation of it, Roxy supposed, but the eyes are still the same.

Roxy swallows hard, trying to pretend like she hadn't just blurred at the edges, started a whole new level of blacking out. Weak grin, nods to the food and medicine. Short laugh. ]

That for me? Now who's pining.

[ Lurches to crawl past Dave, needs to peek out of the shelter and see who it is that got themselves killed. From this close the smell of blood on Dave, over her skull, is overpowering. Peers up at the sky for the announcement. Hopefully Dave will just figure it was the trick of the light. No need to let anybody know what little tricks she had up her sleeve. ]

[Her back's to him, and Dave's hands fall slowly to the hilt of the sword he put down to open the medicine jar. He's holding his breath, mind racing through every memory of Bro shutting him off, drilling into him since he was old enough to hold three words in his head that those three should be "Don't show anyone." The memory of the last time he saw Bro, how if he hadn't said anything Bro would have taken his sword and killed everyone he could until they took him down--the one time maybe Bro appreciated what Dave can do.

And this chick can...?

Can and didn't, he reminds himself. She didn't. She could have and she didn't. And it's hot and he hurts and he just killed some dude and raced through time back to her because there's something about her that--she's not like Bro, no one's like Bro, but she's like someone Bro could have liked.

He grips the sword, but only in one hand, and instead of attacking he touches her elbow. His voice cracks, young and pubescent and overtired.]

Don't let them see.

[ She starts at the touch, shooting a look back to Dave. Hesitates, eyes flickering to the sword in his grip. ]

They won't see me.

[ But knows what Dave meant. What was she, born yesterday? It was a lapse in judgement, the affects of falling asleep for even a moment. This is why Roxy can't sleep in the arena, why she's pushing forward while still blinking through blood. She can't go too long without sleep, nobody can, but there's nobody here to look after her when she does, nobody to pull her away from danger, to keep the Gamemakers from realizing why she's so tough to track. I can't protect you there, Dirk had said. She never asked him to. ]

Ugh, it's too bright! I can't see who died!

[ Ducks her head back into the shelter and fixes Dave with a level look. He's burnt, there's no way that was just fifteen minutes. Even if the sun looks like it's in the same position, there's just no way he'd get that burnt, that much supplies- killed someone? in such a short amount of time. Can't be the only one juggling elements out here. Little resigned sigh. ]

You get some sleep. That catnap fixed me right up.

[ Reaches out to run her thumb over the funny burn pattern on his face, thanks to the sunglasses. Mumbles, smiling like a proud mom. ]

You are such a dork.

[He flinches at her touch--he's not used to movement so near his eyes, let alone something so nonthreatening and...and...gentle. He blinks at her a moment, then slides his shades back onto his face and moves deeper into the shelter.

God, why does he care?]

Wow, did the sun fry your brain, who's the fucking dork with a sleeve tied around her head? You're like, Joan of Dork. The Queen of Dorksheba. Aphrodorky. Patron saint of every goofy four-eyes who ever thought the tooth fairy was real.

[Maybe he's not at the top of his game, but it's been a long day. He pushes the medicine jar towards her and then scoots against the wall, squirming to get comfortable with his sword balanced against his chest. He's trying not to look like a schoolkid blushing over holding hands for the first time. It's hopeless, though, with his sunburned cheeks.

He pulls out one canteen and restrains himself to a sip when he'd like nothing more than to chug it all down, then tosses the other--the one that had belonged to the District Three guy--over to Roxy.]

It was the guy with the lisp. Who bit it, I mean. The one with a wasps' nest up his ass and every psych disorder known to man.

3 because you were already doing 5

chuu okay!!

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