forum Dystopian RP?

Started February 25, 2018 by @Oakie Dokie

tune

(ahaha oki dokie)
Harrison would visibly sigh. "Yes, Commander Nyir. Make it quick, please." The woman took a breath and shook herself out a little bit; trying not to let her annoyance affect her. She was searching anxiously through a device, scanning all of the cameras as soldiers and guards cleared the halls and filed into the arena.

"Can I ask what benefit there is to forcing Dr. Watt to fight?" she asked, her voice calm, her face a mask. "It seems pointless. If you don't mind me saying."

"Pointless?" She'd force a smile. "He's been just about as conniving as Kodiak, Nyir." She shook her head, chuckling at her. "He's a manipulative lying traitor just as much as Kodiak. Only more manipulative. And we can't exile him. He's much too smart to just.. brush off." She'd pace a little in no particular direction, giving Nyir her side. "But he's completely lost it, Nyir. Didn't you see it? Don't you see the bloodlust in his eyes? He's just a shell any longer." Another chuckle, waiting to see if she needed to explain further.

Nyir's eyebrow twitched. "I see bloodlust in someone's eyes, but not his. Kodiak was wrong to deceive us, but Armand –Dr. Watt was not wrong in wanting to save a young girl's life."

Harrison narrowed her eyes a bit. "Watch your tongue, girl." venom dripping from her words. "I also know that he was planning on having his body mutilated in order to free Kodiak. He's a treasonous SOB. Can you believe he'd put her through the pain and suffering of the dumb solution he made? I asked for military weapons, not monsters. But when I accept his insolence and request he change her custody into the battalion, he turns around and let's the brat go." Harrison marched up to Nyir and looked at her closely. "I do hope you understand, Nyir. I can't afford someone like him being a loose canon in my Society." She added, "And I wouldn't be able to accept someone like you doing that either."

"Dr. Watt has many shortcomings. But compassion?" Nyir narrowed her eyes. "That's not a shortcoming. You need his intelligence and his ability. You'd throw all that away because he got sentimental?"

"Commander." She'd raise her voice a bit. "It would be in your best interest to stop this now. He's unstable and dangerous." She walked past Nyir, stopping in the doorway with her back turned. "It would be best if you negated and warm feelings you have towards this man; he's bound to manipulate you like he has many others. I'd hate to lose one of my best commanders along with him." She left, signalling an end to the conversation. Attendance was being called from the arena, echoing through the speakers on the walls.

Nyir stood still for a long while. Her teeth clenched. Then she turned and headed for the arena, her stomach churning at the thought. If things went south…well, she wouldn't let this end the way Harris thought it would.

Yuki stashed a few knives from the room of weapons. The room was dimly lit with only one hanging light bulb. It looked more like an attic from sixty years ago than a high-tech weapon room, except for the large variety of guns and knives. The walls were made of wood. Yuki took note that the room could easily be set fire to. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to set fire to it. Yuki took as many weapons as she could and searched her pocket for a match.

Rowan shivered slightly trying to listen to the loud speakers blasting through the halls. She couldn't even understand what was going on until two soldiers came in, one tossing Rowan over his shoulder and roughly jostling her around whenever she attempted to squirm away. For the moment she decided to go limp and observe her surroundings.

Yuki scraped the match against the wall. After a few tries, it caught on fire. Yuki buried it in a wooden box full of small explosives and ran. Once she got a reasonable distance away, she heard the explosion.

After the president's conversation with Nyir, she returned to the control room of the arena, ready to speak over microphone to the entire complex. "Good afternoon, members and guests of the Smoke Society." She started. Armand was picked up roughly from the cement, hauled to a small cage in the near center of the arena, where they had him stand until it would start. He could see everyone being seated, and could hear the announcements clearly as Harrison spoke them. He looked across to him, to see his recent patient, Petree in a similarly small cell across from him. He nodded to her, with a bit of a sigh.
"Rebels have been killing our members and forcing our hands for years up to this point. In this battle, we recognize their barbaric ways, and honor those who have become traitorous a chance to fight for themselves in the arena. The fight continues until one opponent is dead; the other will be released without hesitation."

Petree looked at Armand. He nodded at her.
"Rebels have been killing our members and forcing our hands for years up to this point. In this battle, we recognize their barbaric ways, and honor those who have become traitorous a chance to fight for themselves in the arena. The fight continues until one opponent is dead; the other will be released without hesitation." The loudspeaker came on.
She clenched her fist, playing a scene where Harrison was getting killed over and over with some invisible fist in her head. She shot a look at Armand, thinking,
I can't kill him… he saved Rowan like he was supposed to… and countinued to think that for another few minutes until she totally lost it and let out a frustrated scream.

All of a sudden an idea popped in her head. A fabulous idea. Harrison said the fight continued until an opponent died. Armand wasn't nessecarily her opponent, was he?
A couple of people shot glances at her, wondering why she screamed and then suddenly got so happy.

Nyir sat in the nosebleed section with the other commanders. They all looked tense. Armand hadn't been a favorite, but none of them had it in them to dislike him. A ripple of displeasure ran through them as they brought out his opponent –a young girl, able bodied, strong. The thief. "Don't be stupid," she whispered, –to herself? to Armand?- she wasn't sure. Nyir's nails clenched into her palm, drawing blood. She forced herself to sit still.

"Today, the fates of Dr. Watt, and a rebel girl named Petree rest in the arena. Watt is a man of endless capabilities who invested his time into aiding the rebellion; withholding hostages and speaking with rebel representatives in the prospects of releasing people. He has been observed manipulating the minds of his coworkers and even the rebels to get what he wants. This man can not be trusted."
Armand would heave a visible sigh, looking to the side, biting his lip. How annoying; and a little stretched for the truth. She was inflating him.
"And Petree; a girl who bore great potential but threw it away to steal from the President herself when her own greed consumed her. Resources say he was looking into getting her released as well, while he claimed to be "Training her" in one of his personal cells. Now, the two of you will fight each other to the death. Good luck to these two lost allies, may it be in your best interests to fight for your life."

The first thing Petree did was turn her back on Armand and face the Smoke Society, hoping Armand would get her message.
Help me, she muttered under her breath

The metal cages screeched as the tops were raised and the walls of them fell outwards, releasing the two in the arena together, with nothing to intervene. Armand's unsteady gait made it's way over to her and held up a hand. "You won't be able to get out of here; no matter how hard you try. I invented the magnetic field that surrounds it. You have to fight me Petree." He'd nod a little bit, looking at his feet before looking into her eyes with his golden fake ones. "Remind me, how did your training sequence go? Come on, now, start with your blade flat, and spar." He'd try for a little smirk and raise his arms so that his forearms blocked his face from any damage, using them as striking boards.
"You remember the story I told you about the feeling in my arms being gone?" His sleeves slid down a bit; the flesh beneath was a ghastly white rippled with scars, the skin rough and mutilated, hard from scar after scar.