Round One: Bryony vs Delta (D6)

It only takes one shove for Delta to get the hint - get in the cage.

"Well, shit," it must be that time. He had watched it approach menacingly, an omen on wheels he had no hope in stopping. This is it, the beginning of the end. He sat down in it and tried to accept his position in life, tried to accept everything that got him to this point but he can't, he just can't accept it. No matter how low key he plays this, he's angry, he's hurt, he's mourning himself. There's no escaping that, especially as he pulls his knees to his chest and waits for the light to pour in. 

There's a familiar voice that beckons, one that he daren't ignore. It only takes a second to recognize it from the interview - he must have been the gamemaker. The one at the helm of all of this, they say those are the ones responsible and he bites the regret of not giving him a harder time. Comply, comply, comply; don't just lay down and die. He's played it safe and he intends to continue that, Bryony by his side as they start this together. 

And together, they shall. 

"Bryony Fleming versus Delta Jackson!"

Fuck. 

One year too late, one crucial step behind. They were never going to be working together in this, no matter how much he trusted her. It was written out before their names were drawn, probably, a cruel fate that pounds like the heave ho of his chest. In and out, in and out, he just focuses on breathing as the dust settles in his eyes. The maze before him is incomprehensible, that's new. What he knew of the games was so much different than what was presented to him today. 

He never had a chance of coming into this prepared. His gate opens, and there's a eager jingle at his hip as he stands, slowly emerging from his cage opposite Bryony's. Please don't hurt me - even through the shellshock he listens to her commands. "Right, right," he mutters, jogging to the nearest gate and forcing key after key into its slot with no avail. There's an edge he can't shake, that she'll stab him in the back and he'll die for nothing. 

But it never comes. He doesn't think of attacking her once, only focusing on the gate ahead of him and the surrounding hedge. The more he fumbles, the more frustrated he gets - "god damnit!" - until he moves on to grasping at the walls. Trying his hardest to get some type of grip, but there's nothing. None of these keys are working, this gate must be fucking broken. He moves one to the left, closer to Bryony and repeats the process with no difference. 

They are trapped. 

Bryony said it best, but he steals a glance at the sword and feels sick to his stomach. No way, noooo way, she's the only piece of home he has and he's not going to be the one to kill her: ever. "None of these keys are working, we've got to try something else," he says, heart thumping with every syllable. He takes a step back to get a look at everything, their courtyard limited in things of use. 

"Here," he keeps his eyes to the top of the hedge, the gate must be fifteen feet tall. At least, he offers a hand to Bryony regardless, "maybe you can climb on my shoulders and jump it? Unlock it from the other side or something, I dunno," or leave, get as far away from him as possible and they'll figure it out from there. 

Beats killing each other, he'd much rather take his chances with whatever comes next.  

Bryony isn't on board with scaling the hedges, and Delta can't blame her. 

Not a great idea; it's a poor one at that. There's no telling what's on the other side, and if he were Bryony he wouldn't want to take that risk either. How would the Capitolites respond if they even managed to jump the gate? He fears for her at the idea, so when she offers up the idea of a hidden key, he gets to looking immediately. Delta squats in his toga, kneeling in front of the bushes and digging his nails into the dirt and roots searching for a hopeless treasure. A bead of sweat runs down the ridge of his brow and into his eye, the nerves and stress of the colosseum settling into him ten fold. 

He's panicking, and he knows he is. There's a loss of words and a loss of breath that only sparses further as Bryony brings attention to the swords. Don't do that - he liked it better when he was ignoring their existence between the two of them. A table, an entire arsenal full of swords that he tried his hardest to forget about in the minutes since they arrived. Delta stands, breathing through his mouth as Bryony suggests fiddling with them. A puzzle, normally he's so good at those, but the rising pressure in his temples gets in the way of his focus. 

"I- I don't know," I don't know what to do, Bryony. 

As he takes his first steps towards the table, he feels like he's breaking out a paralysis. Each step a trudge, as if the materialization of the swords is him accepting their fate. Bryony Fleming versus Delta Jackson; if they don't find a way out of this, what happens next? He grabs a broadsword by the hilt, heavy in his hands but perfect for his size. If he had to kill, this would be his choice, but he looks from it to Bryony to it again and he feels so disgusted with himself. 

I won't do it, he refuses. Killing Bryony would be traitorous, and the abrupt cheers from the audience tells him it's already begun. Districts turning on themselves for their entertainment - for their lives. Who's the real enemy here? Delta digs through the swords, inspecting under each one until he begins frantically sorting through it all. The clattering of metal refuses not to be heard, and it's nice just in the fact it drowns out the peanut gallery above. 

Fuck them. 

And of course, there's nothing. He returns to the broadsword, heaving a deep breath before trying something he never thought would work. He pulls and pulls at the handle, hoping the sword will come apart one way or another and reveal a key that may well never existed. It's all wishful thinking that comes up short, and he feels stumped. "Hedges, gate, swords, cages..." he lists off what's around them, taking a second to feel under the table in hopes of finding a key taped away. Bryony's words repeat in his head as he begins to give up. 

"At least they can't make us fight," no matter what, they still have their own autonomy. "You know? We have all day to figure this out, we've got this," he says, trying to reassure himself just as much as he is with her. He wonders if the cheering means death, if someone in their ranks has already fallen to the hands of another. Meanwhile, Delta and Bryony are in this together, until the end. 

He takes a second to take in the entire crowd, spinning on his heels in dismay at how many there are up there. "They must hate us," it's a sinking feeling in his stomach - what can they even do besides kill each other? "Well guess what? I hate you guys too!" Delta shouts hopelessly at the stands before rubbing his face with his hands trying to gather himself. This puzzle's got the best of him, but he may as well continue to try. 

In the perplexing minute that follows, Delta spends it thinking of home. Specifically of Demetria, his girlfriend of two years, of her beautiful brown eyes and her messy morning hair. How the warmth of the arena compares none to the feeling of holding her; he shuts his eyes and gives way to the homesickness in waves. The jeers and shouts from the audience above interject, tearing him from even just the thought of his girl, but it's enough to help him refocus. 

Refocus on the absolutely nothingness they have to work with. Goddamnit - they've checked the gates, the hedges, they've checked the swords, the table, they've checked each other, the observers. And there's nothing. Nothing but the swords between them and the promise that only one of them will walk through those gates to finish this "Game." Disgusting, it's a clear headed, bitter anger that he finds extremely difficult to ignore. He had been bent over, gripping his knees through the toga in his daydream, but he straightens himself out as Bryony continues in her ramble. 

The talking helps, honestly. She's apologized so many times for it, but in a place like this, any of them could be their last. She brings up that something, some body could be headed their way, and he gulps at the thought. Let 'em, he thinks, a determination in his brow, "we'd take them, 2 on 1," with all the swords in the world. The frustration has built in his wrists, he almost craves to let it out on whatever comes their way. 

And it saddens him, how he's let this place get to him so quickly. 

Bryony makes the call to finally jump the gate, and Delta jogs over, almost disappointed. He had hoped there'd be a way to get them both out of this, but there's nothing more for them here. If anything, maybe she can come back for him, turn the tides in their favor somehow. It's desperate thinking, but if it works it might just win them the war. "You ready?" He says before kneeling and offering her a hand onto his shoulders. 

She's lighter than he expected, but his knees still wobble from fatigue and hunger pains as he stands on his tippy toes. Every inch matters, the hedges almost unscalable. Almost. Anything's worth a try in this moment, he keeps his head to the ground and his eyes closed as Bryony attempts to break the game before them. In this moment, he swears he can hear a thump, thump, thump, coming from beyond the gate, a quaking in the ground he mistakes for adrenaline in his feet. 

"You got it up there?" 

Please say yes. 

”I am ready.”

Bryony does not like to lie but their only hope now seems to be Plan C. One goal to scale the hedge and then what? It seems treacherous just to leave Delta secluded within the courtyard, especially after everything that he has done for her in this short time. But if she can manage to get him freed or as far away as possible so that they are not forced to face each other for the Capitol’s twisted game, it will be a sweet farewell at least.

She is up high on Delta’s shoulders and his shaking tips the confidence right out of her. ”Steady, you’ve got this!” She assures him as a new view of this hellish landscape fills her sight. She is little too closer to the crowd now that a few feet have been added to her height. Their cheers mirror the thumping in her chest, their claps almost in rhythm with the beat of her heart.

It was only a few weeks ago when Gerard was carrying little Blaire on his shoulders as the two families left the shop for the day. A contrast to the guy that was taunting her youngest sister with stuffed toys just days earlier. Gerard is so good at playing the fake act, it is what makes Bryony despise him. He has done wonders with tricking her parents, it is probably why her father agreed for him to put the ring on her finger.

"You got it up there?"

”I think…”

The thumping is growing louder and louder, it does not sound like it is coming from her chest. One by one, the branches within the hedge begin to shake. Large gaps form between the leaves and the ghastliest looking creatures crawl out from them. ”S-spiders!” Bryony calls out and her reaction knocks her balance in the wrong direction. One of them pounces from the hedge towards the girl and it sends her to the turf below from Delta’s shoulders.

It is a firm collision when Bryony lands straight onto her back onto the primmed lawn. The grass is long enough to cushion her fall but not soft enough to prevent her being winded by the impact. It takes long enough for the spiders to crawl within inches of her to finally grab a hold of her breath and get back onto her feet. All her motions are defibbed and she regrets suggesting that someone or now something was heading their way.

She glances over to Delta, the oversized spiders have not spared him, there is blood pouring from the side of his head. ”Put pressure on that, you are losing a lot of blood!” There is no time to tend to injuries, not while so many of the mutated spiders are still emerging from every corner of the courtyard. Bryony makes a beeline for the scimitar that she drove into the dirt earlier. She has never used a sword before, but she has played a few rounds of baseball with the kids. All it takes is one swing.

This doesn't mean anything but...
Bryony swings at the spiders with her scimitar.
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The blade takes a leg from one of the robotic beasts.

The pair of them collapse like dominoes, the solid thud of Bryony landing squarely on her back amplified to almost thunderous proportions by the time it reaches the nosebleeds. Harlan observes scattered reactions from the crowd: a group of teenage boys pointing and laughing mockingly, boasting about how much better they would've been handling this, a young girl who can't be more than 8 shielding the eyes of a boy who is much younger while their parents stand swaying in drunken ignorance only feet away.

The spiders do as instructed, a Type 3 tearing an ear clean off the side of Delta's head while a Type 2 does its best to fashion Bryony a Cheshire smile. She's quick to regain her breath and footing, however- Harlan makes note of her resilience- and quickly jumps into a leadership role. This won't come as a shock to the crowd: She's already told them she's a leader. They've expected this from her- yearned for the responsible big sister they were introduced to yesterday in her interview. So many to get back to, she said.

She cuts into the very spider that took Delta's ear and manages to completely dislodge one of its legs. Hydraulic fluid sprays out of a hose as if she's severed an artery. It pours out in pumps, pooling into a puddle on the grassy terrain, which it then promptly steps in a number of times as it tries to recalibrate its balance settings. Those nearest to it begin to crowd around in protection, three Type 1's raising their front legs like crab claws and snipping out at her in defense.

Delta rises shortly after, face gone gray between the blood loss and the horrifying realization that his ear is gone. The crowd laughs at his joke about being on the same side as Bryony because they love him. He showed them exactly how deserving of love he is already, and watching him fight back is a beautiful callback to what he said about doing everything it takes to survive in his interview: "I don't think I have much of a choice."

"Stun."

All at once, the spiders begin to emit a harsh high frequency screech. It's so loud that even muting the microphones isn't enough to keep those close enough to hear it from flinching back in their seats and moving to cover their ears with their hands. After about three seconds of this, Harlan speaks into the controller again: "Carry on."

They attack.

Delta watches in fear as oil spurts and spits from the severed spider limb, who made these? Why? For what reason other than to torment two kids trying to stay alive together? He knows better to think it'll stop at torment, for as quick as they are to take from him, he knows the onslaught won't end until one side is entirely dead. 2 against 50, it doesn't take a brainiac to know their time together is numbered if they don't get it together. She's got the right idea, the right aim, the right strike.

And he's got blood trailing down his arm. "The sash you are wearing, Delta," she starts, and he looks down at himself, taking in his clothes for the first time since putting them on. The least of his worries, but Bryony brings up a good point to wrap it the best he can. The spiders rear on their hind legs and he tries - he really does - but as Bryony is cut off, so is his attempt. There's an ungodly screech that makes him all but forget about trying again, recoiling as he covers what's left of his ears, dropping the sash altogether to the ground with a stain of blood. 

"Now what the hell was that!" He exclaims, throwing his hands to his side in frustration. Thank god that's over, after the stun comes a second wave, a rush of animatronics that they withstand easier than they had when surprised with it. It's the most he can do to sprint further and further back as they lap at his feet, like waves at the beach, their razors lashing at his ankles as he and Bryony take space in the courtyard. Still, she remains just to his right, just as she said she would. 

And still, he trusts her. Despite the fact that that might just be what got them here, what might kill one or both of them, it's better than the original plan set in motion for them. This way, they'd at least die good, loyal people, and his brothers would know he did what was right, not what was easy. He nods to Bryony, to your right, "with you to the end, we aren't dying today," he says, bitter in the acceptance of their fate. 

"Watch it!" Delta shouts, kicking at the wading spiders at their feet before stomping on a rather fat robot preparing to lunge at his district partner. 

[ attacks spidurr ]
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