At War With The World - D11 Suite (Marik/Arlo Day 4)

Arlo wanted to just ignore him. Roll back over in his hidey-hole corner and just close his eyes until- damn. Forever? Until it was all just nothing? Having nightmares about Tavi was the only thing Arlo wanted to do. Wanted to see him smirk, hear him laugh and snicker through teeth full of blood; Arlo presses on his stitches with his eyes squeezed shut until he can convince himself it's Tavi who is trying to get him to scream. He whispers to himself- "Cheeky fuck." -and tries his hardest to fall for it.

But he can feel the red eyes on him, the way they're burning into his skull and dreaming of the day they would be programmed to shoot a laser through his brain - and apparently, that was today.

"HOW?" Arlo complained to the cameras as he watched red dots appear across his torso, tracing lines to every vital organ they could until his only choice was to actually roll over. "How is anyone getting anywhere in this place in three minutes?" And honestly, Arlo actually was pretty sure his brains where about to be scrambled into crispy bits inside his skull like some tasty fucking stew.

Arlo would never make anything but a scrawny burger, but a brain stew? Probably some of the best cuisine the Capitol had ever witnessed.

He sprinted until it hurt, sprinted up and up and up and up and up and- these things go forever. He could still feel the killer automated systems following him with their red eyes, staring him down, so ready to murder him.

Maybe he wanted them to.

"What, so you're saying if I leave my fingers in this door," Arlo points at a camera and gestures back to where he has his hand over the locking mechanisms. "You'll what? Chop them?"

"Is this a test? A challenge?"

And as the timer ticked down all Arlo could do was grin and smirk and think about Tavi standing on his tiptoes and whispering into his ear- "So kill them."

It's not calculus; crush my fucking knuckles to dust, you cowards.

But they don't. It's as if they knew something else was coming, something else was about to crush his knuckles to dust. "Arlo, you idiot-" "Hello?" It was bright in here. He'd managed to make it all the way to the 11th floor and shit was it blinding, hot. Different than the District 8 suite and very different from the wet, damp, darkened forest he was used to in District 7.

wipwipwip

"Run is right!" Arlo screamed it so hard his voice cracked; he hated it, knew his cheeks were burning red and knew every fucking camera with a stupid red laser could see. And apparently Marik Shadow could, too.

But Arlo had no idea where he was. Same old, same old, same stupid old bullshit.

"Well, yeah, that is why I'm dead."

"Tavi?" No. Wait, no, he meant- "MAAAARIII III I IICK!"

He fired a crossbow bolt into the endless blades of grass that were whipping him in the forearms and cheeks. Or- like blades against the cheeks? Cutting him? Slicing and dicing until all there was left was a boy put through the grater? It's probably a metaphor or something. Like- at least an advertisement?

Arlo whipped around when he heard Marik behind him. Except, no Marik. Probably because he was going crazy, probably because he was always forgetting to read the warning signs. Or- any sign. All he could feel was horror sitting atop rage, crushing his chest, making it hard to breathe. He was blind at the edges of his vision. He was seeing all dark, warped, and without one single brain cell clapping against another.

This- this wasn't smart was it? Wasn't as smart as turning off the water filters, right? Wasn't going to get him closer to Marik. Especially when he apparently was incapable of seeing or paying attention ever. Still couldn't see him. Probably never would.

Arlo had always been an idiot.

Plus this grass was higher than ass height and catching annoyingly in his eyebrows- somehow? He could feel himself panicking, feel the fear replacing the rage, feel the need to- well, as Marik had quite aptly put it- run. But then he wasn't sure where he had heard him last. He'd been seeking something that Marik wasn't.

Something so perfectly, deliciously selfish.

"Okay, fuck."

And then he ducks, tucking himself away and sitting as silently as he can within the literally so fucking weird grass, what is this? His hands practically glided through the blades as he grabbed the piece of railing he'd found earlier and tried to hide from the roars that were echoing through blinding light and tickly, fake grass.