forum When the going gets tough, the tough tend to destroy things. // oxo // private with misfit!

Started March 30, 2020 by @croccin-champagne

tune

Alright! I'll get it up ASAP

(Starters are always a tad rocky for me, so… here's my attempt XD)

In only a few hours, Hugh was to be thrown into the massive gladiator arena to face his utter demise. But, he had other plans. Or at least, he was trying to come up with other plans. Whether or not said plans would work, he could only hope they would, but he wasn't going to give up without trying nonetheless. His first idea was simple: get out of his cursed cell, get to the control room, free the other prisoners, and high-tail it out of there whilst the guards were busy chasing the other prisoners. He had tried to think of other ways, but there was no guarantee he could acquire a useful weapon between here and the exit, and he didn't want to risk getting tranquilized or shot by one of the guards. As far as he knew, the room that controlled the entire facility– including the electronic locks to each cell– wasn't too far from here, and if he could get there and free everyone else– well, the guards would be distracted. But, then there was the risk of the entire place going on lockdown…
He scrunched up his nose in disappointment and leaned against the wall of his cell, trying to brainstorm something– anything. There was the old cliche trick a guard into coming into your cell, then steal his outfit plan, but… would anyone really fall for that?
Hugh sighed.
Getting out of the cell wasn't the problem. Getting out of the building was. He glanced up to the ventilation shaft, narrowing his eyes at it. Was that kind of escape too cliche, too? Or was it just cliche enough that it might work?

Yvonne was a talker.

She talked to other people while locked in her cell, talked to herself while doing anything, and talked to her opponents while fighting. She even talked in her sleep. Every one of her cell mates knew that. There was something about silence, a distrust of the lack of noise. No noise meant someone was keeping that noise away. No noise meant something bad was about to happen. Maybe that came from spending so much time in crowded, busy streets, where your target being silent meant you were more likely to get caught. Or maybe it came from listening to a quiet house at night to catch the direction the heavy footsteps were headed in.

Either way, she was a talker. So not talking right now was making her antsy, bringing up a energy usually forced down into the pit of her stomach to wait, until she wasn't on display.

"Did you know they give the guards maps of the buildings?" She said, speaking out into the quiet to whoever was listening to her. "Straight up maps. Detailed stuff, too. 'Cause they don't teach 'em the layout in guard-school, I guess." Von herself already knew the layout. She'd accidentally pilfered one of said maps from a guard a few weeks into her imprisonment, and now had both the prison and the arena buildings memorized. And had gotten a couple bucks richer.

Although Hugh was not much of a talker, he was very much a listener, so he heard Yvonne's rambles. He found them incredibly informative– albeit irritating. And, considering that his cell was rather close to hers, he heard every one.
"Oh, really? How nice. Now, how about you say it a little louder so that every guard in the entire facility can hear you?" he snapped in a harsh whisper, before letting out a long sigh. However, if she was correct, this could be good for him. Granted, it didn't provide him with weapons to escape, but knowing the layout of the building could be enough to get him out of this place without getting himself caught and walloped by angry guards.
He peered through the bars on his cell door, though he could see no guards. Good. But also bad, because he needed a guard in order to get one of those said maps. If that was even true, of course.
"You're positive they have maps?" he inquired of the rambling voice, his voice heavy with skepticism.

((i have an idea for how this can all go horribly wrong. consider, he's caught with the map, and as he's being dragged along, von decides to at least try and make things right by saying it was hers. she's pulled out of her cell, takes a look at the guards, and just straight up decides 'why not have some fun' and bashes her head into one of their faces, hence creating the distraction he needs))

When another voice actually responded to her, Von perked up. Despite the harshness in his voice, she was still ecstatic to be talking to someone. Why she should care what the guards knew she knew, was beyond her entirely though. What would they do, kill her? No. They needed her for the entertainment that was about to happen in a few hours. She was priceless.

"'Bout as positive as the crowds about to be watchin' us." She said, referring to the weirdly giddy bloodlust the people who came to the arena had about them. "Seen 'em myself. Taken 'em myself." It might have been a notable thing, the way she spoke. The fact that despite her upbringing, the dialogue it should have given her, she spoke like she'd lived her whole life in a slum. And on some level, she had.

"The layout's pretty simple. Still have the thing tucked inbetween some loose bricks." Von mused, her tone casual and light. Like she was talking about her favorite movie, or what she wanted to eat for lunch. That was how she always talked.

((Yessssss. I vote yes.))

"Hm." Hugh scrunched up his nose a bit, pondering this. The woman sounded like a psychopath, the way she sounded relaxed and relatively unfazed by the setting they found themselves in, but that didn't matter if she was right. Granted, it was possible that she was lying, but… if she wasn't…
"So you have one, then?" That could be his ticket out of here. Yeah, still risky without weapons, but it was better than nothing. The punishment for trying to escape would likely be him getting beaten half to death, but what did that matter when they were going to kill him tonight, anyways?

There was a note in his voice that belied his thinking. And if there was one thing that Von was good at—there were a lot, actually, she just never saw them—it was telling when someone wanted something from her. Lips upturned in a crooked grin, despite the fact that he couldn't see her, she turned to feel along the bricks in her cell.

"I'd like to know which cell number I'm talking to, if you don't mind. Gotta know how many down you are." Often times, it was easier to learn people by their cell numbers, when permanent. Even now, when it wasn't, it was still a lot less personal and connecting than names.

"Hmph." Hugh had to think a moment, try to recall in his memory what number was outside his cell when they dragged him here and threw him in. The human mind stored all memories, he knew– the trick was finding them. Fortunately, he'd paid a bit of attention when they tossed him into this cage (because he had a tendency to be observant about such things), so it wasn't hard for him to remember. "223 C," he responded after several seconds. He paused, waiting to see what else she had to say, his brow furrowed slightly as he mulled over the situation and his upcoming plans for escaping.

"Nice t' meet you, 223." Von called back, finding the loose brick. She wiggled it a bit, and it slid out fairly easily. If you knew what you were doing, the brick would slide out quick and without a fight, but without knowing how to wiggle it, it would refuse to separate from the wall. Bypassing the little gold locket and trinkets she'd stolen before, she grabbed a blue sheet of paper, folding it three times.

"You're a very lucky man, I hope you know." She said, a slight sing-song to her tone as she pushed on the brick on the other side. Falling to the ground, the chunk of rock-like material left behind an opening into the cell next to hers, something she'd found a while ago. It was lucky the guards were so lazy, allowing her to pretty regularly end up in this cell. "You order a map?"

"Generally, I wouldn't consider myself lucky…" Hugh peered through the opening, into the cell next to his own. " But I suppose we all have good days where fate favors us just a bit. How'd you get this?" he dared to whisper as he reached for it, curiosity eating away at him. He wished she'd talk a little quieter, but he wasn't going to snap at her too much for fear that she might refuse to help him– and he needed the map she had.

Lowering her voice just a tad in a faux-conspiratory tone, Von winked through the opening as she withdrew her hand, leaving the map. As she did, she plucked up the locket, clutching it in a closed fist as she spoke. "I've got a thing for pockets, you could say. More like what's inside 'em, but that's a secret for you an' I. I'd recommend stickin' that brick back in before one of those bootlickers comes 'round the corner." Her voice stayed a bit lower as she talked, less loud than it had been. She'd managed to take note of his unease, at least, even if it was slightly weird to her.

She didn't allow herself to be afraid of what they could do to her. She'd faced the worst she possibly could already, so anything they did, even if it was fatal, couldn't possibly measure up. And besides, they didn't deserve her fear. Nobody here did.

"Oh–" Hugh picked the brick up and carefully pushed it back into its place. "Right. Good call." He readverted his attention to the map in his hands, his brow furrowing in deep thought as he scanned it. Yes. Yes. This was perfect. Exactly what he needed. He could use this map and the information thereon to determine the path of least resistance and get the heck out of this cursed place. "Ah! Brilliant," he whisper-exclaimed. "This is exactly what I need. Thank you."
Now all he needed to do was get out of the cell, and he'd be home-free.

"No problem." Brick in place on her end too, Von plopped down on the floor in her cell, laying back on the cold concrete and feeling the chill seep in through her clothing. She was only wearing a tanktop, after all. Kicking her legs up in the air, she moved her feet like she was peddling a bicycle, clasping the locket around her neck. "Can I ask what it is you're usin' it for? Or is that classified." The light and joking tone suggested she wasn't too intrigued, willing to let it slide and uncaring if it did. In actuality, she was kind of curious. Really curious. "Actually, screw that." Talking about it now was probably a deathtrap for her cell neighbor though.

The sudden changes in topic seemed so random and fast paced, like her brain moved a step too fast to keep up with. Undiagnosed ADHD was the definite cause of that, though she didn't even know what that was. All she did know was that it was another thing her parents had hated. "Where ya from? And what brought ya here?"

((You can if you want!! Sorry for the delay. I've been SUPER busy.))

Hugh didn't respond for several seconds, chewing his lip thoughtfully as he eyed the map. "Nothing worth mentioning," he responded numbly. He glanced up at his cell door, his mind reeling. "You don't happen to have a lock pick, do you?" It was a long shot, he knew, but worth asking nonetheless.

((that's perfectly fine! i'll do the guards to take an extra load off your shoulders))

"That sounds like somethin' someone would say to hide somethin' interesting." Von said, eyebrow arched even though her couldn't see it. "Bobby pin in the hole. My lockpicks keep getting taken." She frowned slightly, ears catching the sound of footsteps. The guards didn't usually come down here for another three minutes. Writing it off as a prisoner pacing their cell, she continued her peddling. "You do know how to use them, right?"