13th Throw - [ action / written ]

[shenevermisses]

Written:

I want a specific scenario in the Battle Dome. Can someone help me program it? I'll repay you. Terms can be discussed before the programming.

Action:

[Clove will be waiting outside a room in the Battle Dome. She hasn't been sleeping, and it shows. She's also been skipping meals.

She has her Journal with her, and she's dressed for a fight. Tribute from head to toe, knives in her vest.]

Written:

[The next short message appears a few hours later.]

It gets so quiet here. Between missions and drafts, there's just nothing. That's the one thing I hate about this place. It gets too quiet.

Action:

[For most of the evening, Clove will be at her camp. She's turned up a little game to cook, and she's ignoring the cold as best she can. She considers, as she starts to really feel the nipping of winter, knocking on Katniss's door. She could probably sleep there to escape the cold and not go back to the apartment.

She's not sure she's ready to go back and face Cato yet.]

Comments

[snikting]

[Huh. Now this is starting to get pretty specific. He glances back at her.]

Sure. What kind?

[shenevermisses]

Close combat. Maces, machetes, scythes. That kind of thing. More physical than mental, but not dumb. Desperate, if you can. Kill or be killed mindset.

[snikting]

... he got a name? [This specific, he figures the person HAS to have a name. Which means he may as well just try to find the actual person.]

[shenevermisses]

Thresh. From District Eleven.

[A figure from her nightmares. A memory she had to face. Had to beat.]

[snikting]

[Thought so. Well, a name isn't enough. He drums at the console with his fingers.]

Your planet got a name? How about a country? Year?

[shenevermisses]

Earth. The country is Panem. Seventy-four years after the signing of the Treaty of Treason.

[snikting]

[He'd give her lip about that being a vague date, but the computer is advanced enough that he can throw that all in. Before long, Thresh himself is up on the monitor.]

That your guy?

[shenevermisses]

...Yeah.

[She stared a little at the screen, suddenly tense. How real. She drew herself up.]

Does it have Panem's Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games arena?

[snikting]

[A few more menus later, she's got her arena.]

I take it you're intending to settle an old grudge match. Trust me, kid. Even if you win, it won't be enough. It never is.

[shenevermisses]

I know.

[She does. It won't be real, and it won't really prove anything. But.]

I want to make sure of something.

[snikting]

[He gives her a skeptical look, shakes his head, and activates the scenario. The chamber doors for section 4 slide open.]

Well it's all yours, then.