bakerstreet | The Gladiator Meme

Blood and Glory

There is nothing quite like the arena, the cheer of the crowd, hundreds of pairs of eyes all watching you, the way your life balances on the edge of the blade. They say there are two kinds of fighters, those that value survival above all, and those who value victory.

Maybe this has always been your world, and the arena has always been a part of it. Or perhaps you've been brought here against your will. But surely you know the expression: When in Rome...

Rules
1. Comment with your character and canon.
2. Include things such as scenarios, settings, and whether you'd like to play as an AU or something the characters have been dragged into.
3. Good fighting.

ARENA VARIANTS

Historical //
Whether it's 300 BC or 300 AD, whether you're slaves, volunteers, or a member of the city's favorite team, you're in Rome or something like it. I hear the sand makes the blood easier to clean up.

Fantasy //
Mythical creatures set loose to be battled, magic in the bindings that keeps you in line, this life may be even more dangerous. At least the architecture is pretty.

Space //
You are on a large ship, or perhaps an entire planet, that exists only as an arena for battles to take place, with exploits beamed across the galaxy.

Your Own World //
Turns out even in familiar places there are people bloodthirsty enough to want to see these sorts of battles. The arena might be makeshift, or re-purposed, or even a new stadium made for the purpose, but the sentiment behind the games is the same.

SCENARIOS

1// Man vs Beast
Today your opponents are not other gladiators, but animals, or monsters. Try and stay alive.

2// There Can Be Only One
Both of you have made it to the end of the battle, but there can be only one victor today. You must come to accords in one way or another, or else persuade the crowd to have a change of heart.

3// Fresh Meat
One of you is a veteran gladiator, the other one has just been brought in, willingly or otherwise. Time to haze the greenhorn, or take them under your wing.

4// Biggest Fan
One of you is not a fighter at all, but you do enjoy watching the battles, and now you have a chance to meet your heroes.

5// Picking Sides
The next battle will be between a number of teams, you'll need to find your partner ahead of time if you want a chance.

6// Crowd Pleaser
One of you is a known favorite of the masses. The other... isn't.

7// Protector
You've made an agreement. No matter what happens or who arrives in the arena, you will keep your friend alive.

8// Night Life
One of you is not a fighter, but you are close to their level, there to entertain the fighters after the arena has quieted for the night with things like drink and dance.

9// Volunteer and the Impressed
One of you is there because you want to be. The life of battle and fighting for fun just appeals to you you're ready to throw yourself into the ring. This is causing some friction between you and the others.

10// Revolt
You've made your plans, there's a weakness in the arena, and come the next show, you are all getting out.

11// Good Hunting
One of you have been thrown into the arena with little more than the shirt on your back. The other, in full armor with a few nice toys to use. The end result seems simple, doesn't it?

12// Patron
One of you is a person of wealth who would liked to get more involved in a gladiator's life, such as providing them with some useful perks. The other of you could really use a leg up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nyx reacts to the faint halo of light radiating from Apollo with a long, heavy blink and a slight scoff, like he can't believe he didn't notice earlier.

"'The Authority,'" he repeats after him, and laughs tiredly, not mocking so much as amused. "What a name."

Well, he says that, but... there's a heavy black leather coat, trimmed in silver and looking distinctly military, that Nyx had left hanging on the back of the chair. Now he tugs it over himself as a makeshift blanket, idly stroking the ragged cuff of gray fur hanging from the sleeve.

"A team and family, though... I get that. We even had a fucking motto. 'For hearth and home.' That was what I fought for-" Punctuated by a yawn, Nyx's voice fading drowsily into a mumble. "-fight for, I mean..."

"Yeah, yeah, the Authority," Apollo echoes with a faint laugh of his own; he knows how it sounds, he's heard all the jokes a hundred times before. He's heard all the criticism too; that the Authority were as heavy handed and iron-fisted as their name suggests. Apollo can't help but think that the word is a poor joke now. For all his authority he was still stuck in this hell hole with everybody else.

Nyx's yawn has Apollo glancing up and across at him, squinting in the darkness. The guy looks - and sounds - as tired and beaten up as he is. It hasn't exactly been an easy and fun-filled day for either of them. In one fluid motion he reaches behind his head and whips the pillow out and across the room at Nyx, aiming squarely for his chest. The chair doesn't look as comfortable as the bed and the least Apollo can do is give him the pillow.

"Get some sleep, soldier," He says, words balancing somewhere between an order and a joke. "There'll be plenty more fighting tomorrow, I bet."

Nyx catches the pillow neatly, looking for a moment like he might want to protest before good sense catches up to him (for once) and he reluctantly tucks the it behind his back, leaning into the chair.

"Sir, yes sir, Mister Authority." Said with another yawn accompanied by an amused chuckle, traces of Nyx's usual careless flirtation creeping through. Fuck, how long has it been since he's had reason to laugh with anyone? He's missed it... this sense of camaraderie, knowing he has someone watching his back...

...

There's the faintest rustle of sheets, and Nyx wakes up all at once, sitting bolt upright in his chair. He blinks at Apollo as memory washes through him-- yesterday's fight, the guard's interference, coming up with a plan... just as the mechanical voice rings through the compound once more to announce that Curfew has ended. It's followed by a buzz as the chipped and dented vid-screen set into the back of his door flickers to life for the Director's morning announcement, accompanied by a booming feminine voice that crackles through the speakers.

"Rise and shine, my fine gladiators. We have quite the treat for you today, by popular request: it's time for a doubles match! Fight well and make us proud."

A doubles match? Nyx had fought in only one of these before, and it had gone... pretty fucking terrible, with his assigned "partner" going out of their way to conserve strength and leaving Nyx to do all of the fighting-- only to end up dying in the last wave of killer robots they'd been pitted against. He squints at the screen as the day's match-ups are announced, eyes widening as he goes down the list.

Him... and Apollo, paired off against another set of gladiators, and the winners expected to face a gamut of unknown surprises after the match.

"Well, shit."

Apollo ignores the announcement with the same stubborn prides that he uses to ignore all the announcements. It's not often that he even so much as looks at the vidscreen, even to see who he's due to fight. It doesn't make much difference either way - he fights them whether he knows who they are or not - but it gives him a rebellious bit of satisfaction to be able to resist in this one small way.

It isn't until Nyx speaks that he looks around, turning away from the wall he'd somehow ended up facing in the middle of the night. He shoots Nyx a wary look.

"What is it?"

For his part, Nyx's expression is pure exasperation, tinged with a flicker of rueful amusement. There was no way the judge and the group of clowns running this place could've predicted the outcome of yesterday's match, so they must've fucking scrambled to put him and Apollo into today's round. But why? Hoping that their fake rivalry from the previous match would be extra entertaining for today's audience? Some kind of fucked up test for them both, forcing Apollo to fight alongside the man who'd just beat him while punishing Nyx for exercising mercy?

"Looks like one of the assholes up there scheduling fights has a sense of humor." Despite the dripping sarcasm in his voice, a faint hint of a smirk hovers over his lips as Nyx pushes himself up to his feet. The more he thinks about it... the better this could turn out for the both of them. "You ever fought in a doubles match before? 'Cause we just got paired up for today's main event."

"Shit, really?"

Apollo sits up and takes to his feet in one fluid movement; all of the aches and pains from yesterday are happily gone, smoothed over by the background workings of his regeneration factor overnight. It's a good sign that the reserves of sunlight he's been storing are doing their job - it almost makes taking a beating worth it. Almost. Escaping would be more worth it.

He inspects the screen up close, running a finger down the display until he hits their names near the bottom.

"No, not personally, but I've seen them," He answers the question eventually, his eyes still trained on the screen. God, did they know that Apollo and Nyx were planning something? Apollo can't help but feel suspicious by the timing of it.

"You know what this is though, right?" Apollo turns, giving Nyx a bleak look. "They make us spend as much energy as possible fighting another pair, then they'll make us fight again to try and kill off each other so they have one final victor..."

"I've fought in a couple that didn't end that way," Nyx replies slowly, "but that was back in the other arena. And most of the time, it was because the person I got paired with [...] didn't make it. Or tried to have a go at me before the end of the round. Once, the judge got bored and flooded the arena with some kind of drug..."

He shrugs, not particularly wanting to elaborate, and finds himself grimacing as the motion pulls on strained muscle and bruised bone. Unlike Apollo, Nyx is only human. Barring medical intervention from their captors, he carries every injury from the last match into the next. With a little groan, he stretches, testing his reach and the extent of the bruising.

"Anything for the audience ratings, right? So I guess we'll see what these sadistic bastards have in mind this time. Unless you think you'll have enough sun stored away to make a run for the ceiling."

The Gladiator Meme

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