For now, he'll try to get some rest.
.oOo.
Norman Bennet, 14
British Male
1 Kill
He takes long, shallow breaths as he tries to get up from where he collapsed a few minutes ago. Norman simply can't run any further with his wounded leg, so he lets his legs rest for now and tries to get a bearing on his surroundings.
He's in some corner of this huge stone labyrinth, the walls towering up above his head and going on for ten more feet. He'd try to climb them, but the walls seem to be too smooth to attempt it. If he was taller, maybe, but right now his leg is bleeding at a nasty rate from that knife and he's fighting the urge to vomit again.
For now, he'll try to get some rest.
As he looks around at the plants that line the walls and grow over the edges of the wall - he thought of trying to climb one, but an experimental tug proved that the vines were too frail for him to scale the wall with - he realizes that there's something missing - he can't hear any of the other competitors. He must have run far enough away from the clearing in the middle of the labyrinth to be safe from being found.
When Norman finally gets the courage to look down at his leg, he sees the long, ragged wound that the girl had left in his calf. She hadn't gone deep into his leg, but it's still bleeding while the sides of the wound are starting to clot into thick, ugly scabs. Wait - he needs water, something to clean the wound in case it gets infected. He doesn't want to try to live through the competition with only one good leg.
Looking through the red pack that he had grabbed from the clearing proves fruitful. Inside of the thin bag is a small knife - probably the same kind that he had been stabbed with, Norman thinks with a grimace - made of steel and with a serrated edge. It's bound to be useful in the arena, and he pats it absentmindedly before placing it down in the ground.
Next is a small package that proves to be a large blanket, folded many times over. It's made of some type of grey fabric, something that will work well to blend in with the wall when he uses it to go to sleep, and it's comfortable to the touch. Norman grins, and tries to fold it back up so he can put it back into the bag.
After giving up around ten folds in, he rolls the blanket up into a small ball and puts it beside the knife.
There's a few packages of food in here as well, dried apple slices and beef jerky making up the majority of it all. But there's also a big bar of chocolate and a few matches that Norman finds right under it, and he places them also on the ground. If it does get cold at night - which he suspects it will - he'll be able to keep himself warm.
Finally, there's a bottle of water that's been tucked at the bottom of the pack, and Norman sighs with relief. His leg is starting to burn with the pain of moving it slightly, but he manages to bend it to an angle where he can let a small trickle of water, slowly falling from the metal bottle, fall onto his wound. After he's satisfied with the quality of his wound, he looks into the pack for some bandages.
There are none. But he still does have the blanket, and Norman stares long and hard at his knife before looking down at the ball of fabric at his side.
Five minutes later, the wound is wrapped in a ragged, firm, strip of grey fabric.
.oOo.
"But we should keep moving. I don't know how large this maze is, and I don't want to run into anyone else."
"I don't either."
.oOo.
Milena Kovac, 17
Slavic Female
0 Kills
Her lungs are begging for air as she continues to run in front of Luka, taking turns through the maze as fast as she can. It's when the two reach a dead end that they both stop running, faces red with the exertion of running so quickly.
Milena is the first to look back up at Luka, giving him a small grin. "Well, we made it. Didn't we now?"
Luka still looks sick to his stomach, his right hand clenching the sword that's now coated with dark, drying blood until it turns white. "I shouldn't have killed that boy. I don't know what I should have done… I made a mistake, Milena. I feel horrible - what if he had a family? What if he had a future? What if he was someone like me? I shouldn't have done that… I don't know what to do. Please, Milena, help me. I feel so lost."
Milena puts an arm around his shoulder, both sitting down on the dirt of the path. Around them, the walls of the maze reach up to what seems to be almost triple her height. For a second, Milena considers trying to scale the walls, but the fact that the walls have almost no handholds to pull herself up dissuades her. After all, she's never been the strongest. She could climb trees, but not walls. They won't be able to get to the top off of sheer strength alone - and she wouldn't want to, considering how high it is. She wouldn't want to fall off of that.
Then again, she had found rope inside of one of the bags, along with a knife and food. If they tried... "It's going to be fine, Luka. You did it on an impulse - it's not like you meant to do it. And he would have done the same to you if he had a sword of his own. It's self-defense at this point. I would have done the same for the bag - there's a lot of food in there."
"Would you have?" Luka's eyes are burning with an emotion that Milena doesn't recognize, and she tries to match his gaze. "Would you have killed a child, Milena? You can't tell me anything if you can't say that you did that."
"We are still children, Luka! Jebemti, you can't obsess over this!"
"Language," Luka warns her, and then they both burst into laughter. Milena doesn't know why, but that joke somehow is so much funnier here. She can't seem to stop laughing, even when she tries to.
What would Domen think of this?
What would Erika think of her?
Luka manages to calm down soon after, and she stops laughing as well. But the tension has finally been broken, and they both give each other a small grin. Luka is the first to speak, rubbing a hand across his right arm. "We'll stay here and count our supplies, unless we go find somewhere else to hole ourselves in until someone finds it. I don't know about you, but I'd like to rest for a bit. I'm too tired to keep running."
"I'm exhausted," Milena confesses, and suddenly she finds herself yawning. Luka does the same, trying to stand back up. "But we should keep moving, as you said. I don't know how large this maze is, and I don't want to run into anyone else." She ignores the fact that he's being a bit pushy - of course, he's stressed and worried about what he's done. She can't push him too much.
Still, it hurts to not be fully included in their decision making.
"I don't either."
They stand back up, and start the long walk to a place where no one will find them.
.oOo.
She reaches over to close his eyes with a shaking hand, and a small but oh-so-light feeling of peace washes over her.
.oOo.
Abigail Kuepfer, 17
Canadian Female
1 Kill
It takes a long, long time for the tears to stop, but when her eyes finally dry she feels just a dull, leaden pain in her stomach. She still doesn't know why she did that, why she threw away everything that meant something to her in her religious life to save this little girl named Juliet. But she has, and the girl from Russia finally convinces Abigail to stand up and come back to the pile, where they sit for a long time.
Then Abigail speaks: "We should lay the bodies to rest."
Juliet nods, grateful that Abigail is willing to do something, and they get to work.
Abigail tries not to think of the stench, but Juliet gags every time they lift up a body and place it in one corner of the clearing. More than a few times, one of the bodies is too heavy for them to carry and they collapse onto the ground. The body itself falls limply onto the ground, waiting to be carried to its resting place. And when they get over the fact that they're handling dead bodies, that their hands are smeared with the blood of the dead, they muster up the courage to handle the next.
The last one, of course, is the boy that Abigail mur- she doesn't want to think of what she did. She closes her eyes when they lift up the body, Juliet's small body leading them to the corner with confidence. When they reach the clearing and place the body on top of another, Abigail opens her eyes and sees that one of the boy's eyes is still open. The dark brown iris stares into nothing, glazed over with the gaze that can only come from passing from this mortal plane.
As Juliet heads back to the pile, Abigail stays to stare at the body of the boy whose life she ended. The muscular body, with floppy brown hair and a frown on his lips, lies still, but an irrational fear comes over her that he'll get up and chase her. It's his eyes that worry her the most - he shouldn't have to keep it open in death. It's not right.
She reaches over to close his eyes with a shaking hand, and a small but oh-so-light feeling of peace washes over her.
When Abigail walks back to the pile of supplies in the centre of this large clearing, Juliet is bouncing with excitement. "Look at all of this stuff! We'll be set for life once we take everything we need a find a place to stay. Oh, we're going to feast like royalty tonight!" Juliet is chortling at the thought of all of this left for them alone, rooting through the pile. "Oh, there are a few sandwiches in this one! Would you like one, Abigail?"
"Thank you," Abigail manages to murmur to the small girl with chestnut-brown hair. "How do you know to speak English, by the way? You told me last night that you came from Russia, but even I know that Russians don't speak English."
"My father's an ambassador, and he was assigned to Russia a few years ago. Just before the war, I guess," Juliet says, and a cloud seems to come over her face. But just like the sky after the rain stops pouring, it clears up and she replaces her frown with a curious smile. "And why are you dressed like that? Are you from some sort of religious sect? You aren't Catholic, are you?"
"No, I'm Amish." Abigail smiles at the girl, pointing to the white cap on her head. "They let me keep my prayer cap, I guess because they thought it wouldn't do people any harm if I could keep it on through this competition. We have it so that way our heads are covered and kept sacred to the Lord, and so we can pray whenever we feel the need to."
"Oh." Juliet ponders the answer. "So all of the women wear it? I wouldn't mind wearing something as pretty as that."
"Oh, thank you! All of the women wear it in my family, we're all very religious." Abigail remembers with a pang that they must be watching now if they've been forced to do so by the authorities. "I suppose they wouldn't forgive me for kill… hurting that boy."
"But they have to!" Juliet's face darkens at the thought. "They wouldn't be family if they didn't forgive you! I bet they're grateful you're alive and well, and that's what matters."
Abigail looks at the girl who she's saved, to the girl that she's now protecting. The girl that she'll protect from anyone in the competition - because if she dies, the one reason she's sinned has crumbled into dust. "I hope so too, Juliet. I hope so too."
.oOo.
He might as well find out.
.oOo.
Karol Karski, 15
Polish Male
0 Kills
"I wish you could understand me," he whispers to the boy on the other side of the corridor. The boy looks back at Karol and raises an eyebrow, shrugging to let Karol know that he doesn't understand a word. He's apparently from Norway, or at least that's what Karol was able to make out from what the boy had presumedly said in Norwegian.
If only he had found someone who understood French and German - the two other languages that he actually knew.
No, he shouldn't be upset about this. He's got to be grateful for the fact that the boy from the Baltic region had taken pity on him and helped Karol escape from the bloody clearing. Without him, Karol might have been one of the bodies that now are rotting inside of the clearing.
He shivers. No, he doesn't want to think of that. But the shiver feels more for show than anything - Karol can't seem to feel frightened by the fact that he's going to have to fight for his life today.
"So, what's your name?" he asks the boy, hoping that this boy with messy blonde hair and a solemn face will understand what he means. "My name is Karol. Karol is my name, Karol. I hope you understand that. I guess you might not, but maybe if I repeat it enough you'll get what I mean. Karol, Karol, Karol, Karol is my name, yes, that's me, Karol, Karol-"
"Karol?" the boy asks, pointing a finger at Karol's chest. Karol grins, nodding like a mad man. "Jeg heter Johannes."
"Johannes?" The boy - Johannes - nods, and smiles back at Karol. "That's a cool name! I don't know anyone named Johannes, but I wish I did. I guess I do now, now that I've met you."
From the look on Johannes' face, he hasn't understood one word of what Karol's said.
"Oh well, at least you're here with me. Better to have someone as company right now than to be by myself. After all, I'd have no one to talk to - that'd be a travesty!" Karol pauses his torrent of words, trying to think of something else to say. When he realizes that he has nothing to talk about without needing a response,- something that he won't get from the boy - he devotes himself to observing the maze that he's been running around in.
It's made of grey stone that is smoother than the concrete buildings back home, with only a few handholds that he could use to climb up to the top of the walls. There's a few, bright green vines with exotic flowers creeping over the sides of the top, too high for him to touch but just close enough that he might be able to climb his way up to them.
He might as well find out.
"Wish me luck!" he calls to a bored-looking Johannes, and begins his ascent. He's climbed buildings before back at home, so finding a few handholds to haul himself up onto isn't hard at the start. Jamming his shoes into any crevices that he can reach, he keeps trying to make it up.
About five feet into the air, Karol's grip begins to give and he jumps back down before he manages to kill himself. Right now, it isn't worth it to get up onto the walls. But this lets him know that with time and a bit of luck, he can get to the top.
Letting out a cry of victory, he turns back to Johannes and tries to show him how they can get up the walls. But Johannes silences him with a finger to his lips, pointing to the end of the corridor."Det er noen der."
Karol listens, and he hears the loud footsteps of someone approaching. And then there they are, the boy from Afrikka who smiles when he sees the two boy. Johannes pushes Karol back behind him, brandishing a long knife. "Løp, Karol!"
"What? But I can help you fight! I can do it! I'll help!" Karol protests, taking out a knife of his own. "I can help you!"
"Løp!" Johannes shouts, slapping Karol across the face. The younger boy stumbles backwards, shocked by the slap. "Løp!"
And as the boy from Afrikka walks towards Johannes, Karol runs like Hell.
.oOo.
Now, after hours of searching for competitors, he's found himself two little dogs to cut down. He's done well. Very well indeed.
.oOo.
Bosede Okafor, 16
Afrikkaan Male
6 Kills
He looks up at the walls, seeing the daylight begin to disappear. There's likely only a few hours until the day is over, and then he'll find a place to sleep for a few hours. Then, he'll do some night hunting. Back in Ghana, fighting at night always gave the attacker the element of surprise. And Bosede would like any advantage he can get.
He lets himself smile when he sees the two boys, standing in the corner of this new corridor of the maze. He's been looking for more competitors ever since his skirmish in the middle of the maze, where he managed to get rid of six competitors personally. Surprisingly, ten more fell as well - the other competitors are just as willing to kill as he is.
Now, after hours of searching for competitors, he's found himself two little dogs to cut down. He's done well. Very well indeed.
One of the boys, who stands about a head above his counterpart, takes out a knife and gives a cold stare towards Bosede. He looks quick, quick and strong - this might be a bit harder than Bosede thought it would be. But he'll make it through. He's never lost.
Dad wouldn't let Bosede lose in a fight, even if he wanted to.
The older boy yells something to the younger one, slapping him across the face and pushing him away. The younger boy runs away from Bosede, sprinting into the maze and disappearing around a corner. Bosede frowns, but he should have expected something like this to happen. At least the older one is man enough to stand his ground.
"Look out," he says to the boy before swinging his sword at the boy. He dodges nimbly, jumping back to the wall and taking out a dagger - which he tosses at Bosede. It lands harmlessly against his chest, handle-first, and falls to the ground. Bosede laughs, taking out a knife of his own. It misses the boy, but it does what Bosede hoped it would - the boy ducks under the knife, giving Bosede enough time to tear at the black pant-leg of his adversary.
Finally, he can get this kill over with.
Blood seeps from the boy's leg, and he cries out in pain. Bosede slashes at his upper-thigh, leaving another paint-red tear that stains his pants. The boy, more quick-thinking through the pain that Bosede thought he would be, manages to swing another knife into Bosede's thigh, but Bosede ignores the pain long enough to lift the sword above his head and impale the boy.
The fight is over, all too quickly. The boy's eyes roll back into his head, and he gasps something in a language Bosede doesn't understand before touching the sword. Bosede yanks it back out, and the boy bleeds out all the more quickly. His aim was true - he must have cut through the boy's heart to kill him so quickly.
And then, there's only Bosede standing between the stone walls, a dead boy at his feet.
And off we go, straight into the action! Some set-up for our tributes, and we've culminated in another death. Yes, it's going to go faaaast.
12th: Johannes Stølan, Baltic Male; Killed by Bosede Okafor. Created by Exotence.
Johannes was a good guy, and deserved better. To be honest, I might as well wash, rinse, and repeat this statement for the rest of the competitors. But he definitely was a fun dude to write - I liked his conflicts with the rest of the Germans, he had some fun personality quirks that really made him his own person, and he was a strong guy. Bosede's not dead yet, but he's been injured a bit more from Johannes: something that could help the rest of the tributes who don't realize the sheer FORCE of this dude. Johannes died in the end because he was more dominant than Karol and selfless enough to push Karol away and let him survive, things that did him in but saved a life... for now. We'll see what Karol does with this later on, but for now we must be content with the fact that Johannes is gone. Thank you to Exotence for this great competitor.
And we continue! Thoughts on arcs? Interested to see other competitors? Who do you think will appear next? I'm excited to keep going - the arena has a ton of fun arcs, and we've only just started. I can only hope that you're as hyped as I am!
Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ