courtney-ganhador
courtney ganhador
d10 // tribute in the 133rd games
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when my time comes
think of the living
be good to your neighbor
and ask for forgiveness
i won't be there to share in the struggle
can't get much deeper with axes and shovels
and if i don't see ya,
know that i loved ya
oh
i won't pay no rent
for the land that i'm under
i won't feel any pain
i won't know any hunger
so don't cry for me
‘cause lord i'm free
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Courtney's feet took cautious steps forward, his arm up but failing to protect against the searing pain of razor-like rain slicing into his face. Between the wind and the wounds, the dizziness made it feel like sometimes he was walking backwards instead of towards his goal. But his feet remained steadfast in their intention: get to the metal. Move the metal. Get to safety.
Keep your head down and get the job done.
Eventually he made it to the spot where he needed to be. Where Io had been standing minutes before. Had it really only been a few minutes? His body ached as if hours had passed, his bones shivered as if days in the rain had worn him down, as if a lifetime had come and gone and still given him no respite. But he was here. He was where he needed to be. He could lift this, then get to safety, and then he could find Prairie and Greer would send them what they needed.
He stooped low slowly, inching his fingers under the metal. It was slick with rain and he couldn't see past the water and the blood, but the slight slice into the palms of his hands let him know he was in the right place. He took a slow, steadying breath, and then from the power of prairies back home, he lifted. His eyesight blackened as he felt the gash in his side split open further than Alecta had initially cut, pulling out all of his District partner's stitching work. But the metal groaned and pulled away from the earth. With another herculean effort, Courtney pushed the sheet metal to the side, where it was instantly caught by a gale of wind and blown into the storm. He didn't even notice as the serrated edge slashed across his bicep.
He stood for a moment, almost feeling proud, before his knees buckled and he slumped forward into the entryway of the subway station. He had done it. Something like a laugh clawed for his throat, but it couldn't make it past the wheezing, the gasping, the crying. Suddenly the world was gentler, as the entryway provided the tiniest shelter from the storm. But the job wasn't done.
Head down and get the job done.
He looked up and saw the door to the underground clearly. He tried to step towards it, but hadn't realized he had fallen. Fine. He threw an arm out to crawl, deepening the gash he had just suffered. The ground was slick and nearly without purchase, but Courtney could not be stopped. His nails clawed into any bit of gravel they could encounter and he pulled his bleeding body forward, towards the door.
He fought the mental images. He fought the visions of home, of the horses and the wildfires. He fought off the visions of Greer's terse face and of Prairie, sleeping fitfully beside him. He fought off the image of Brooks, handing him a small, carved fox head and of Barny the cat looking at him knowingly from the horses' stable and of the new pairs of boots hidden under the kitchen cabinet for Irina and Grant's birthday and of his crew at the fire station and of the small eggs he forgot to collect and that sunset that one night, when he had an evening to himself, just to enjoy the sky and the air and the breeze. He fought them because he didn't need them. Not now. Not right now.
Head down and get the job done.
He was at the door before he could think again. Behind him, water was pooling, starting to fill the small entry way. But the cold didn't matter, the wetness and pain, none of it. Because behind this door was his chance, his next step, the next thing to do. He pulled himself to the door and reached up for the handle.
His fingers wrapped instead around a thick chain. He craned his head up and his one good eye looked down the keyhole of a thick padlock. A bellow grumbled in his chest as he leaned his weight into his hand, pulling at the chain. It didn't give. It gave him resistance, enough so that he could pull himself to a seated position. The bellow turned into a laugh. Of course. Of course. Of course.
He left his hand there, above his head, fingers interwoven into the links of the chain, as he sat with his back against the door. He watched the storm grow even more intense, as if that were possible. It was almost beautiful, he figured. The water in the alcove had gathered to his waist. He pulled his other hand through it, noting the delicate, calm ripples compared to the raging storm only a few feet away. He wanted the images back.
He gave the chain another jiggle, but he knew it was of no use. His breathing was shallow, and he could feel that iciness in his chest spreading. He knew. He knew.
For the final time, Courtney put his head down, gently against his chest. Finally, his job was done.
There were hands on her legs. Inwardly, Io flinched. Though there was no more than a dull ache as the last vestiges of hope flickered and shuttered before dying out. Everything else already hurt too much for it to find a place in her battered body. Hands traveled up from her knees to her shoulders and then there was a pause, a brief moment for another gasp to find its way out of her throat. Deliriously, her hands lifted, holding onto Courtney's elbows with a weak grip, barely there.
Her head limply rolled back into her neck as she was lifted off the cold ground. Watered down blood dripped from her nose, her mouth, and with the new angle colored her neck a faint shade of pale red.
Slam.
A weak whimper spilled from her mouth when her head was roughly slammed into the ground. Pain, pain and more pain.
Slam.
She had no more breath left in her lungs now, Courtney had punched it all out of her.
Slam.
Delirium took over, but she still had a few coherent thoughts left. They tortured her, pointed a finger to laugh at how it all was ending. Io hadn't known when to stop. She shouldn't have thrown any punch at all, but she'd never known if pleading for her life would have stopped him from still trying to end it.
Her life had been signed over from the moment she'd raised her hand to volunteer. Did she regret it? She did not, she was sure of it. If she had to watch the little boy meet the same fate she was facing now, her heart would have shattered. But she'd have been alive.
Why'd you do it?
Nano's voice. Right there in her ear. Her mouth opened, soundless. I had to. I had to do it. I couldn't stand and watch and do nothing. He was a kid. Just a kid.
How old would I have needed to be for you to volunteer for me -- your brother?
Her answer then had been cruel, mean, unconscious of the future. She'd known then she was going to die, but she hadn't acted the part. An apology, a hug, reconciliation. That was what ought to have happened, and yet Io had chosen to fight. Needless, useless.
Her mouth still hung open as Courtney lifted her again. Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Nano. Forgive me. Nano, please forgive me.
Slam.
With a blinding bolt of lightning, her heart stopped.
Within the rumble of thunder, a cannon sounded.
Perhaps, dying for her brother would have been better than this. Better than dying for nothing at all.
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It was odd, he realized. There was no change in feeling as his brain processed that she had fallen away. Nothing about his physicality changed - he was still warm and cold and icy and pained. But somehow he knew she wasn't hitting him anymore, so that was... that was good.
For a moment he laid there, the rain pelting into his wounds. Every small movement on the ground caused an eruption of agony. It was everywhere - his face, his side, his legs, his back. No matter how he tried to find comfort, there was none to be had. But more so than comfort, there was no safety. Not yet. Not until he knew. With groans that no one would hear, Courtney rolled over to find his hands and knees biting into the unforgiving concrete. He bore past the pain to scrape at his eyes, needing to see, but to no avail. His left eye was swollen over, or burst, or ruined, and his right wasn't much better. But it worked well enough to see his opponent ahead of him now, still moving. And movement meant danger.
It felt like hours, his journey to her, crawling on his hands and knees. The fabric of his wetsuit was tattered, and the gravel and debris from the storm gleefully tore into his skin, though the torrential rain quickly erased any trail of blood he may have left. He used her body to support himself, pressing his hands into her knees to steady his form against the storm.
He looked down at her for a moment before catching sight of his reflection in the water. His face was unrecognizable; a mashed visage of blood and skin. Perhaps, if he had the mind for it, he could still recognize his one brown eye, but even that was swelling and growing red with burst blood vessels before him. Everything else was torn flesh. Almost automatically, without a conscious thought, he took her shoulders in his hands. Another person may have seen it as caring, as if he was cradling her for a hug.
Slam. His arms shot forward, bashing her against the cement. Suddenly she wasn't Io. She was Chif, the boy from Eight. Slam. She was Lobo, the brother back at home with his wild hair. Slam. She was Irina, the twin sibling whose birthday was coming soon. Slam. She was the unborn brother, still waiting to meet Courtney upon his return.
Was she moving? It didn't matter. His hands released her of their own accord, and despite the continual worsening of the storm, despite the raindrops that slashed through like bullets, despite it all - Courtney's feet found their footing. His legs pushed him up. And they began stepping towards the metal blocking the subway.
If there had been a cannon, there was no way to hear it over the tempest.
Io felt her fist, even connect with something solid, the brass knuckles jamming into the backs of her fingers painfully. This was no goddamn situation to fight anyone in. She wanted this to be done, to be over, she wanted to remember what it felt like to be dry again, sight not blurred by the steady stream of rain. She heard Courtney screech, felt him rip his hands upward to stop her blows.
This was the last one. The last one, before she would know that he'd be too hurt to follow her. Io would search for a different entrance to the underground and hope that she'd come across one before it was too late. Courtney could have this one, and perhaps he could forgive her for this later.
Bitterly, a petty little part of her didn't want nor need his forgiveness. Wasn't he the one who had attacked first anyway?
This was the last one, Io swore to herself. Unlike many other times, here she knew when to stop. When she had inflicted just about enough damage to help herself more than harm. Her arm pulled back, ready to strike, when suddenly -
Blinding pain erupted in the center of her face, explosion like and so quick, Io's head snapping back.
With a sickening crack and squelch, everything, at once, fell silent. No storm, no thunder or lightning, just the hammering of her own heart and the rush of blood in her ears. Her sight blurry, before her eyes fluttered shut all together. Gasping, Io fell backwards. That must have happened quickly too, barely a second where she was falling, and yet it felt like it happened slowly, like it took ages to eventually lay sprawled out on the sopping wet concrete in the large puddle that had amassed around them now. Her breaths came in shallow, quick and panicked. Moving in any capacity felt so hard to do now as pain spread all over her face. Broken nose, that must've been it. Io felt nauseous.
Still, the anxiety washed over her in waves. Perhaps, just maybe, Courtney was too weak now to finish what he had started. Coppery liquid streamed down her face, filling her mouth as she coughed through a mixture of rain water and blood.
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Blows suddenly rained down on him as the storm intensified. Crack. He felt his jaw go slack. Crack. Pain exploded over his eye and he suddenly couldn't see. Crack. He was on the ground, but his head was spinning.
The pain was unbearable. Courtney screeched, throwing his hands out to defend himself. He felt weaker, as if his shoulder wasn't following the commands of his brain. Warm blood, cold rain, and a third, icy sensation in the root of his chest all fought for his attention. He couldn't see past the stars and the blood.
But for one crystalline moment, he could. For one brief moment, he saw Io's face, clearly, above him, poised to strike again. For a moment it seemed as if she was taking a breath, looking to deliver the final blow. So he moved. His arm shot out, fist coiled tight, aimed at that shining bit of clarity he could see.
Courtney fell off her, even if only because she'd unknowingly hit a spot that had him howling in pain, spit joining raindrops, blood joining the dirty water that drenched them both. Clumsily, Io scrambled to get a good grip on her brass knuckles, the glide over her fingers made simple and easy with the water cascading down on them. Had the storm gotten worse? Somewhere behind them, another bolt of lightning crackled across the sky.
Io threw herself forward, arm pulling back again and again as she blindly aimed for his head, his face, his arms and chest. Anything that could incapacitate him enough that she could get up and run to safety. She didn't want to kill him. Mac and Hart had already been more than enough.
She felt like a soaking wet, terrified kitten, hissing and kicking and biting to free herself again, from whatever it was that was holding her up by the nape.
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The two slammed to the ground, and Courtney felt the reverberations echo through his already pained body. Almost immediately his support gave out and he collapsed on top of her. He scrambled for a moment, trying to get traction in the downpour.
He finally found his way up and brought a fist up to slam into her, only to be met with what he somehow knew would happen - a weapon. The knuckles slammed into his side, and he felt a sudden burst of warmth as the stitches Prairie had done burst open in gush of blood. He roared in pain, spittle and rain mixing to fall down on the small girl beneath him. The momentum carried him sideways, causing him to roll into the muck and mud.
Sensing the sudden shift in fortune, he tried to throw his arms up defensively, but the searing pain in his side disallowed much reprieve.
Metal scraped over wet concrete and stone as her face twisted into an expression of complete and utter exertion. Courtney wasn't there to help yet, but Io didn't mind to start first, to wait for his help to make it all easier. The rain pelting down on them seemed a lot less bad all of a sudden, when the opportunity to get somewhere dry was so close now that she could almost taste it. A chance to rest, a chance to take a breath and listen to the sound of the raging storm from somewhere a little more pleasant.
The faint sound of steps moved closer, but instead of some of the metal being lifted with her, she felt a body colliding with her side, ripping her away from the twisted bulking piece of debris and sending her flying to the ground. Her back collided with the concrete and all air was punched out of her lungs, sending her gasping for a shred of oxygen.
Courtney.
Io blinked against droplets of rain, wide-eyed at who had thrown her so harshly to the ground. Courtney was on top of her, and he looked angry. So so quickly, the hope that had barely begun to exist was squashed again. He wasn't here to help her, so they could both live. No, this wasn't a place where you let someone live who could kill you tomorrow. This was a place where business was taken care off, quickly and efficiently and sometimes a little more cruelly than necessary.
The brass knuckles had clattered from her pocket, the sound drowned out in the storm. There wasn't enough time to slip them onto her fingers, but just about enough to get a haphazard hold of them. Running on instinct and instinct alone, Io aimed the piece of metal at any point of him that she could reach.
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His brain felt like he was operating in slow motion, even as the world around him sped up. He needed to be there. Right there. Did she not realize? He could do this, but he needed to put his feet directly where hers were.
And what was her response? To this good he was going to do for both of them? She was squaring off. He saw it in front of him as he approached - the way she lowered her stance, the way she grounded her feet in the mud. Didn't she get it? He could lift this for them. Why would this, of all times, be the time she chose to fight?
Another person might have registered Io's stance as ready to help. But Courtney saw the stance of everyone else he had met in the Arena over the past twenty four hours - the stance of Caspian, ready to lunge for the key. The stance of Alecta, low and ready to pounce with her knife. Even the stance of Prairie, every time they heard a noise in the science center, ready to throw a punch. And for all Courtney knew, Io had a weapon. Hadn't it been his own stupidity to train her on an axe? As he ran towards her, this was the stance he saw her take - ready to fight.
If that was the case, fine. He could fight. He could do it, then lift the metal and get to safety on his own. If this was the way she wanted to play it, fine! FINE!
A growl turned into a bestial roar in the final few steps he took towards her. He put his shoulder down, aiming to barrel her over. He could do this. A quick fight, move the metal, get to safety. Keep his head down and get the job done.
Her fist and foot both ached now, but it was sufficiently drowned out by the rush of blood in her ears, the roar of the storm everywhere else. Vaguely, she registered Courtney slithering closer on the wet stone, stumbling once, but when her muddled brain registered his yell, she still flinched, head whipping towards him.
Courtney wasn't a threat, she realized then, finally. Just another person soaking wet and shivering, terrified that this storm was what was going to kill him. Not an honest fight, not the possiblity of a chance, but rain and lightning. A man made natural calamity.
Io stumbled to the side, letting him scoot closer to where she was staning. Maybe- Maybe they could lift it together. Maybe they could mangae to move it, to get inside that subway together. Maybe this was not going to be the end as much as she'd already prepared herself for it. For a change, a rare blossom of hope took root in her chest again. Once more, she took the right stance, stemming her feet into the slippery ground to lift the metal again.
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Courtney dug into a well of strength he didn't know he had, but to no avail. Between the rain and the angle of the metal, he couldn't move it a single inch, and he felt as the jagged edges cut into his fingers, drawing blood. But then, something somewhere shifted. He looked out across the way to see the small Io, soaked and shivering, holding the piece of metal an inch above the ground before it slammed down again.
Of course - it was just a matter of where. She wasn't strong enough, but she had figured out where the metal could be moved. Brilliant. He wiped his bloody hands down the front of his wetsuit and began running towards her. If he could use his strength with her smarts... maybe they could make it out of here. He slipped in the muddy rain, but righted himself. Had she said something? It was impossible to hear over the roar of the storm.
"Move - MOVE!" He shouted as he approached. He needed to be exactly where she was standing so he could get under the metal. He lowered his shoulders, looking a bit like a bull ready to charge, and put a hand out to physically move her if she wasn't able to hear. Head down and focus, just like every other part of this cursed Games.
The rain stung in her eyes, drenching her entirely in a matter of mere seconds. Io couldn't see where she was running, but she supposed the spirit entirely depended on whether she was running at all. She wasn't going to give into this man-made natural catastrophy without at least goddamn trying to survive it.
She was so close, too. The subway entrance was right there, and even though she was rather sceptical whether it was going to flood or not, it seemed to be the only thing that wasn't going to crumble on the spot, untouched by the rough winds and the pieces of debris floating around.
So, so close.
Had there not been the crackling sound of lightning, a clap of thunder and the groaning of metal. Twisting and bending under the weight of heat and force, it had Io stumbling from the sheer volume, the power of it all. Her knee scraped over the wet concrete for only a moment before she caught herself again. The sting was nothing compared to the ache in her bones from the cold, the fatigue from too little sleep, the heartbreak at having yet another thing ripped away from her.
She didn't even know whether the person running alongside her was friend or foe now, but it mattered rather little. Either the storm would get her, or something else.
The metal had crashed right in front of the subway entrance, and only once they had both skidded to a stop did Io recognize Courtney. It brought her minimal comfort, but at least he didn't seem like he wanted to attack her right off the bat. Maybe only after she'd helped him get the bulky piece of debris away from the entrance.
Wordlessly but with a dazed nod, Io complied. She grabbed a piece of metal and pulled upwards with as much strength as she could muster. It moved all but an inch before it thudded down again. Io groaned from the effort, the strain it put on her already tired muscles. "Fucking- Fuck," she forced out between clenched teeth, lost in the roar of the storm.
This was a disaster. One whole, stupid disaster. Io let out a frustrated scream, scraping at her throat, wounding it from deep inside. For the first time here, this genuinely felt like she was coming to an impasse. Frustrated and angry, Io hammered her fist against the metal, kicking it once for good measure. "This isn't going to work," she screamed, "we're fucking fucked!"
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He had to break his promise. There simply was no choice. He had promised Prairie he'd wait right there, right there in the science center, for her to come back. His stitches were fresh and he couldn't go anywhere anyway, so it made sense for her to go out, scout for supplies, and come back. And he promised he'd be there when she got back.
The storm had started off fine. It was a warning, after all. There was always one test storm to push people inside, and then later there would be a bigger one that was dangerous. They had time.
The hours had ticked by, and the storm got worse. The window he was under shattered from the winds, and instantly the inside of the building was drenched in an inch of freezing rainwater. Instantly he could hear nothing but the wind, and he scrambled towards the center of the room to avoid the rain pounding sideways through the window. But he waited.
Then the storm got even worse. The building itself seemed to groan in agony until it finally, it split. Half of the roof caved in, obliterating the hamster wheel Prairie had jogged in just a day earlier. Courtney screamed as glass, metal, and wood showered him in cuts, but he couldn't hear himself. He couldn't hear himself over the wind and the sirens, sounding like a call, a beckon, an ushering.
He had to break his promise. There was nothing left of the entrance of the building, and he didn't want to stick around to find out what would happen to the other half. So he set out into the rain. God, how he wished he had won that jacket from Ripley, though he doubted it would have done much good. He was instantly shaking from cold as the water got inside his ripped wetsuit. He couldn't see the sky or the sun for the storm, so he picked a direction at random to run. He knew, somehow instinctively, that he needed to get underground. So he ran.
Prairie would understand. Prairie would be safe - she was probably already underground, knowing that safety was underground. She'd probably make fun of him when they met up again, give him crap for waiting so long in the storm. He could feel the laugher in his stitches, just barely holding together as he ran. He'd broken his promise, but she'd understand.
Up ahead, he saw signs pointing. To what, he could only guess. But if he could see them, he'd follow them. And then, through the sheets of grey rain coming down like metal from the sky, he saw another figure. For a moment his heart leapt, thinking it was Prairie, but soon it was apparent it was someone else. That was fine. No one would want to be in this storm. Suddenly he saw where the figure was running: a subway station. Exactly where they needed to be. He tried to catch up with her, but was just a touch behind when there was a wicked crack of lightning, a massive wail of tearing metal, and a thunderous crash, as what appeared to be the front of a bodega, twisted metal and glass, slammed across the entrance to the tunnel. Courtney skidded to a stop, taking a moment to claw water out of his eyes.
"WE CAN MOVE IT!" He bellowed, trying to compete with the noise. "WE CAN -- WE CAN MOVE IT!" He ran towards the entrance and put himself on the far side of the metal. He dug his legs in as strongly as he could and began pushing, trying to dislodge the twisted structure from the entrance.
In the evening, her home began to unravel.
It started with the clap of thunder, a stroke of lightning. Io had spent stormy nights out on the streets before and it was nothing new, but a storm was never just a storm when it was inside an Arena.
She'd said goodbye to Augusta, lost Ripley as the girl had run away from her. She'd used Nano's brass knuckles to kill Hart and she'd fought with Mason. Hardly anything was going well, but Io had the city. She still had the city, she had a roof over her head, she had the winding streets and narrow alleyways to fall back on when times got tough. Every city had a pulsing heartbeat and she could feel it when she brushed her fingers over the coarse facade of the tall buildings.
She still had the city.
Right up until she didn't.
It had started with thunder and lightning, but it did not stay there. The rain started, nowhere close to gentle. Right after the rain, the winds grew stronger and stronger. Io had just ducked into a building, when the roof overhead was torn clean off, whipping away in the strong gusts. And after the wind, the sirens blared. Spaced out, but just enough that Io flinched each time the sound picked up again.
The plan here was quite clear, but she was trying to draw out the inevitable. It never went well when the tributes were chased somewhere.
In the end, though, she was left with no choice, as the place she'd tried to make into a makeshift home crumbled all around her.
Sight blurred and obstructed by the heavy rain, trying to duck away from stray branches and debris, she found herself running through the storm, right towards the subway entrance.
At some point, another figure joined her in running.
@courtney-ganhador
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"Oh, so it was you who taught him that?" he quipped with a smile. "Because he sic'd one on me. Dang, we both really had issues wit Caspian, Alecta, and a Brick, didn't we?" He laughed at the absurdity of their situation. "You're right, you're right." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "She's all yours. I just tenderized her a bit for you, 'sall."
His train of thought was interrupted by a beeping. His eyes followed the noise up to find a parachute floating down to them - magicked into the building through Gamemaking technology. A genuine smile leapt to his face as he caught it and tore it open, only to fall a bit when he saw what was inside.
"More wipes, which I guess are good right now," he muttered. "And some stitching thread. Which..." he looked over at Prairie. "Would you be willin' to?" He indicated his side. "It's good to have, but mighta been nice to have a blade or somethin', especially given how many Careers have knives right now."
“Oh, hey, I fought him too.” it was nice, to catch up on shit like this as if any of it was normal. “sic’d a cat on him. you should’ve seen his face.” it had been funny, for a moment. she’d had to go, but she wished she could live in the short victories forever. they felt good. “no, brick got it. he tricked me. it wasn’t fair.” it absolutely had been fair, it just hadn’t been sportsmanlike. murder was less so, though, so really she ought to be thankful here.
“motherfucker, she did?” prairie asked, upset. she heard the smile on his face, turning towards him and his prized brick. she grinned, fascinated by the whole tale. “I… don’t know.” she hadn’t really been paying attention, it was possible she’d missed it. “you can’t have killed her, though. remember, you promised I could. don’t be a bad ally on me now.”
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"Yeah, exactly. I'll do the dyin' on my own." Courtney gently lifted the key towards Caspian, keeping a close eye on the boy's slinged arm. How quickly could he realistically hit it before Caspian swung a knife? Hopefully he wouldn't have to find out.
Just as the key was nearly to Caspian, Courtney flicked his wrist and threw it deep into the bodega. He took his opportunity to spin away and make a dash for the door, this time taking care to leap over the tripwire that had tricked him on the way in.
Not immediately feeling a knife sink into his back felt like a win, so Courtney focused on running forward rather than looking back.
He didn't know if Courtney was trying to appeal to his emotions or something, bringing up his siblings -- like Caspian actually cared, at least they'd all have each other if Courtney died, right? -- but the offer wasn't bad. And the arm was fucked. It hurt constantly to the point where the pain was just part of everything now. He didn't want it to be that way, wanted the fucking opposite, for this to be the greatest performance of his life. But it wasn't. And he couldn't make this bet that if he fought Courtney, he'd win. Courtney was right.
"Don't know if I'd be so sure you'd win," he replied, "but okay. You'll probably die without the fuckin' key anyway." He didn't want to agree to this, and made it clear through his tone, body language, facial expression, everything.
#t: caspian 2#i'm gonna consider this wrapped on my end!#133#arena#surprisingly there are no gifs of him running#despite him playing a cop
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It had been useless, after all. Not that he expected much. But no, this couldn't be the way he went out. He flipped over onto his back, only to find a blade waiting for him. Instinctively his hand clutching the key went up defensively.
"Whoa! Whoa, alright, look." Weak start. "We know how this goes. No matter how good you are with that knife, I'm gonna get the better of you 'cuz of your arm. I've got five little siblings and I've set enough arms to know how to undo 'em with one hand behind my back."
He scooted backward a bit, trying to angle his back towards the escape door. "Tell you what. I give you the key. It's yours, and whatever else comes with it. But you give me time to run. If you catch me again, fine, we can fight then. But right now? I win this fight, and then I get your knife and the key. So let me go, and you get the reward."
Caspian did jump backwards at the kick, not knowing what the hell Courtney was doing, as his fighting strategy seemed to be... just try everything and see what happens. And then 'everything' hit him in the side of the head and he had to laugh out loud. "What the fuck's that supposed to do?" he asked, taking the opportunity to hold up his knife, hovering over top of Courtney with it.
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"Yeah, well, woulda done it faster if Caspian hadn't made a move for it." He shook his head, still wincing. Damn, that cut was deeper than he had imagined. "Take it that you didn't get your key either?"
Prairie's story forced a short, quick laugh out of Courtney. "Well, unless you did that in the last hour or so, she got out." A wicked smile crept across his face. "Because I just fought her at the Cornucopia. Hit her in the face with a brick. That one, actually." He pointed to the weapon, still flecked with blood. "She might be dead, actually. Didn't chase me. Was there a cannon recently?"
“good.” she said, although the tension in both of their faces made her unable to ease up. he wasn’t dying, not yet. but that didn’t mean not eventually, from whatever had happened. that didn’t mean he could handle another fight. she kind of needed him to be able to do both, it was too early for them both to have as many bruises as they did. “you took forever. how hard was it to solve a stupid puzzle?”
“I’m fine.” she brushed off, settling in to sit next to him. if she looked at him, she’d say on national TV that she wasn’t fine, that her hand hurt and she was hungry and she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. “oh, you’ll never guess what I got up to. I locked alecta in a freezer.” it was singsongy, proud, and full of a little bit of joy. the girl deserved it. “she’s probably halfway to careercicle in there.”
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A silver parachute drifts slowly to the ground. Attached is a canister containing antiseptic wipes and needle and stitches thread. Inside is a note from Greer Morgan. The note reads "Nice move with the brick. -G.M."
"Should see what I could do with an axe," he muttered, but flashed an appreciative smile to a wall - hoping to find a camera there.
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As Prairie came towards him, he felt every part of his body relax. With that came an acute awareness of just how much pain his body was in. He gasped in agony as his leg, still bleeding slightly from the mutt attack earlier that day, gave out in shock. He slumped against the counter, hissing as the plastic ate into the knife slash in his shoulder. He kept a painful hand pressed against the most pressing wound in his side.
He shook his head. "No. Not dying. Not yet. I'm fine." The hiss in his voice betrayed his attempts at staying cool and collected, though. "You? You don't look to hot yourself."
Prairie was, at the end of the day, fine.
somehow, she’d lost the key to Mason Brick, been cornered by Caspian and a ball of mutt fur, Locked Alecta in a freezer, and none of that had killed her. somehow, she’d made it back to the science center, and she reorganized their signal, and waited there, sitting on her little hamster wheel, for him to return. Nobody showed up.
but he wasn’t in the sky, he wasn’t dead, so she waited. even when heavy steps came into the science center, limping and stilted, she waited up on him. they went over to her sign- god, it looked to messy, now they’d know she was here- and she stayed shock-still until she heard Court’s voice, quiet, calling her name. “Courtney!” she called back, grinning and following it, running and skidding to join him behind the counter until she caught sight of him. “you look terrible.” she noted, before actually assessing his wounds. “You’re not dying, right? right?” he couldn’t. she couldn’t do this alone.
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The water was cold against his exposed skin, and his breath was labored - but still strong. He groaned in agony as her fingers dug into his wound. His arm stretched out feebly trying to push her away before falling sideways against the lip of the fountain. His fingers closed around a stone, anticipating the pain, and a large brick came dislodged in his hand.
A fire sprung to his eyes as she knelt before him. "Yeah," he said, anger swelling in his chest. "You've got something on your face."
The next few moments were a blur - a blur of arm swinging towards her head, a blur of scrambling out of the fountain, a blur of finding his footing in the grass and moonlight. He was running, expecting at any moment to feel the metallic sting of knife in his back. But it was too late to worry about that now. Now he just needed to run.
This was it. The final moments of Courtney Ganhador's quaint little life. A shame his death would be the most exciting thing about him. Alecta would do it justice, though. After all, there were adoring viewers watching from the comfort of their homes. Alecta flipped her knife, then flipped it again, switching it like a toy back and forth in her hand. "Sure you are," Alecta snorted, with all the belief of an adult entertaining a child's delusions. "And then you're gonna skip out of the arena and ride a pretty pony all the way home, right?"
She knelt down before him, head tilting, cocking with malicious intrigue. With her free hand, she pressed against his side, admiring the crimson stain as her fingers came away. Prairie deserved a slow, agonizing death. But Courtney? Well, she wanted this to be hard and quick. Flipping the knife a third and final time, she grasped it, ready to plunge into his stomach. "I'm sure your sisters are watching. Anything left you want them to hear you say?"
#my roommate said the quote should be “get rocked”#“get stoned”#i cried#t: alecta 3#arena#133#l: cornucopia
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He had gotten her off of him. Time to regroup. He tried to scramble away, but as he got to his hands and knees, the knife flashed out again and glanced through his side. His hand instinctively whipped to the injury, throwing him off balance again.
He managed to pivot, landing on his backside, and began scooting away from her. Somehow, his body was putting him in flight mode. He growled, willing himself back into fight, but it wasn't happening. His feet pushed against the stony bottom of the fountain until his back slammed against the lip, blood blossoming out from the various wounds. He brought his eyes square with her, forcing determination into them.
His arm reached out slowly, edging along the lip of the fountain, searching for anything helpful. It found nothing, and he watched, blood running cold, as she approached him. "I'm gonna knock every tooth outta your mouth, and that's a promise."
To feel him writhe beneath her was euphoric. They had practiced before on combat mannequins and holograms, but there was something so special about a breathing being. A living thing. On guiding it forcefully to death. She wanted to hold him under, to feel him struggle and stop, to hear his cannon sound -- the sweet noise of victory. But the water was too shallow for her weight to be enough, and as he swung back, she had to roll to dodge.
"There we go," she laughed, skidding back through the water. His blood had begun to color the space around them. A pretty shade of pink, but she wanted more. "Sounds like that hit the spot." She lunged again, but instead of jumping on him, she aimed to his left, hoping to slice his side.
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Her face hadn't been in the sky. That meant Prairie was still alive somewhere. That meant their promise was still active. That meant he needed to get back to the science center as soon as possible. Still clutching the brick he used to fend off Alecta, Courtney limped northward as fast as his injured leg would allow him.
Tears of joy started flowing down his face when he saw the doors of the Pandora Science Center - not that they could be read as such, given he was still soaking wet from his battle with the girl from One. He leaned into the doors, taking a moment to catch his breath and regroup. Okay. He knew where to go.
Courtney made a beeline for the gallery, using the darkness outside as a cover. Trying to duck and remain out of sight, he dodged through the exhibits to their agreed-upon signal. But what he found baffled him. It had been rearranged, that much was true, but not back to its original status. It was all wonky. His brow furrowed. Had Prairie made it back? Or -- had she been attacked when trying to rearrange the signal? He hastily organized the signal to its original status, in the off chance someone else entirely had found the mistake, and ducked behind a counter. Did he dare?
Very gently, barely above a whisper, and clutching the brick with all his might, he called out, "Prairie?"
Prairie hated this. she hated this so much. but courtney was right, and it sucked that he was. so she listened, nodded when he said she could kill mason and fitz. she knew that, she was ready to do that. she cateloged all the instructions, the promise. she memorized every word so she could repeat it as if there weren’t cameras.
she wanted to hug him. there was a big chance this was the last time they ever saw each other, and she wanted to give him a hug and tell him that she appreciated the hell out of him. he deserved to know. but they needed to look tough for the cameras, so instead she punched his shoulder with her good hand, light and friendly. “yeah, well, I’ll be fucking back in 24.” she’d see him again, by force of will. “see you soon.”
#~time jump~#t: prairie 6#l: science lab#arena#133#gifs are not cooperating right now but they will be soon
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