try and see tomorrow {prj leisure day 3}
Mar 16, 2022 18:17:59 GMT -5
Post by rook on Mar 16, 2022 18:17:59 GMT -5
My mech is painted red in steaming mutt blood, corroding the paintwork and eating away at the metallic exterior. I exit, pushing open the hatch and slipping out, boots hitting the ground softly.
Today was another day of sloppy co-ordination, poor communication, and messy kills. An uncomfortable silence continues to linger over the group, and as each of us goes about cleaning up our suits there is nothing but the sounds of crows cawing and picking at the flesh of the muttation corpses. All our backs are turned to one another as we go about our maintenance, none of us wanting to be caught in the crosshairs of another's glare.
Three days. Three days and we've not seen another group of Tributes since we ran into that scrapyard and clambered into these suits. It's strange no? This isn't a particularly large arena from what I can tell, we've already circled around the cornucopia where we started and seen no traces of anyone else.
Maybe there's something we're missing.
I gather up my things and let the others regroup before we press onwards, following Bowie around the edge of the scrapyard.
A splash of colour in the dirt catches my eye. I stop next to it and look down at the neon blue zig-zag dancing above the number two. Squinting, I notice that the bottom of the zig-zag is a hard line, with less spray in the mud - as if something was there, but now isn't. My eyes widen as I realise that this is a crown.
So where's the head?
"A person died here." I mutter to myself.
There was no cannon today, and I would have heard if there was fighting here. Three yesterday, two at the Cornucopia, so that leaves - Pope, the boy from District One.
I lick my lips, looking up to see my alliance pressing onwards, but I'm not done here. Let's go further.
What's the number two here? It's not a district, Pope was from One. It could be their district, the killers, but then I'm not sure why they wouldn't stick the letter D before it to confirm. No, this is a brag, a warning to anyone who comes across it.
They're on a killstreak.
"And someone's keeping count."
Today was another day of sloppy co-ordination, poor communication, and messy kills. An uncomfortable silence continues to linger over the group, and as each of us goes about cleaning up our suits there is nothing but the sounds of crows cawing and picking at the flesh of the muttation corpses. All our backs are turned to one another as we go about our maintenance, none of us wanting to be caught in the crosshairs of another's glare.
Three days. Three days and we've not seen another group of Tributes since we ran into that scrapyard and clambered into these suits. It's strange no? This isn't a particularly large arena from what I can tell, we've already circled around the cornucopia where we started and seen no traces of anyone else.
Maybe there's something we're missing.
I gather up my things and let the others regroup before we press onwards, following Bowie around the edge of the scrapyard.
A splash of colour in the dirt catches my eye. I stop next to it and look down at the neon blue zig-zag dancing above the number two. Squinting, I notice that the bottom of the zig-zag is a hard line, with less spray in the mud - as if something was there, but now isn't. My eyes widen as I realise that this is a crown.
So where's the head?
"A person died here." I mutter to myself.
There was no cannon today, and I would have heard if there was fighting here. Three yesterday, two at the Cornucopia, so that leaves - Pope, the boy from District One.
I lick my lips, looking up to see my alliance pressing onwards, but I'm not done here. Let's go further.
What's the number two here? It's not a district, Pope was from One. It could be their district, the killers, but then I'm not sure why they wouldn't stick the letter D before it to confirm. No, this is a brag, a warning to anyone who comes across it.
They're on a killstreak.
"And someone's keeping count."
art credit: here