solravehs_temple | Test Drive #11: Are you not entertained?

Entry tags:

september,
tdm

Test Drive #11: Are you not entertained?

The roar of the crowd, the harsh sun. The zing of blades and the bite of sand.

Welcome to the arena.

New to this place? You find yourself in the pit, surrounded by others. A rusted sword sits at your feet, dare you lift it up? If you do you name yourself Gladiator and you will be a target. Lifting the cool metal you feel it's weight in your hand, it feels...right. It feels natural, however a sudden surge of aggression that follows is not so normal. Who is that getting close to you? A friend? An enemy? A stranger? It doesn't matter, all you know is that you have to win. You have to be the Champion!

Meanwhile in the stands all who have been in this place for a while are forced to watch. Do you know that person who is being attacked? Is your normally sweet and quiet friend suddenly brutally assaulting someone else? Have fun watching because you can't get down to them. You can call down to them but will they even hear you through the sound of blood rushing in their ears?

It's worth a shot right?

Welcome to the Arena.

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Allura woke up in an arena. Last thing she remembered was being knocked into a random area of space in the castle... while the lions went elsewhere. Sitting up, she noticed a sword nearby, and someone standing along the other edge of the arena.

This wasn't good.

Standing, she moved to the sword and picked it up, holding it into a ready position, just in case. If she had to win this, she was going to win this.

Pidge didn't want to be here. The whole thing seemed pointlessly violent, and reminded her far too much of the things Shiro had described about his capture and imprisonment by the Galra.

Ozuma seemed strangely insistent about it, though. As if not going could have worse consequences than sitting around watching new arrivals fight for their lives.

At least Shiro wasn't the one having to go in to the ring. Not that it would make his reactions to whatever memories cropped up any better.

Pidge was looking for where he was among the crowd that had filtered in through the door and around the to stone seats that surrounded a half-circle arena. Huge circular shutters made of some amalgamation of stone and metal were pulled back to cast light down on either side - one above the entry way to the seats and one above the actual arena area. Pidge could see that there were even more of those shutters beyond the one above the arena, and something glinting in the distance out on a grassy field, but there was no way to get to whatever it was without clamoring through the circular opening as any regular door to it was blocked off.

This place was strange, apparently serving a purpose for more than just the fights, but without being able to get to that object in the distance Pidge couldn't even begin to speculate what that "other purpose" was.

Regardless, her focus was on finding Shiro. She was down towards the last row of seats, though, when massive metal bars shot up from the floor, effectively blocking the crowd from interacting with whoever was going to be fighting.

That's when the familiar sight of a blue, white pink and black Paladin suit caught Pidge's attention.]

Oh no...

[The search for Shiro forgotten, she practically slammed herself in to the bars, screaming out as loudly as her voice would carry.]

ALLURA! ALLURA!

Allura was dodging one of the people in the ring when she heard her name coming from the side. Moving to the side, she swung the sword into his calf before pushing him into the ground and jumping back. Glancing towards the direction of the voice, she noticed a familiar face. Sprinting over, she put her back to the bars so she could keep an eye on her enemies and spoke to Pidge.

"Pidge! What are you doing here?!"

"I've been here! That's not what you should be focusing on right now!"

What she should be focusing on, Pidge, is not getting killed. You're kind of taking her attention away from that at the moment.

Pidge attempts to rattle the bars but they barely even move. She looks around frantically, but even among the familiar faces currently in the crowd none of them are her other two teammates. At least not from where she can see.

"This is bad... Allura, can you handle this? The things they're throwing at you, they're not like the Galra!"

"What then? Are they easier or harder to beat?" She asked before lunging out of the way of another attack. She didn't have the lions, the castle, or Voltron to call on this time, just her brains and experience...

...which was nil with these things.

Aiming for the legs again, she slashed to disable them before heading back to where she could hear Pidge, focusing on her instructions.

"Any information on how to take them down?"

They were a different form of shadow - left behind energy from gladiators that had fallen here before combined with whatever dark magic the Queen was capable of spinning and shoved in to the champions she later claimed as her own.

It wasn't a pretty sight, like something out of a b-rated horror movie with surprisingly good monster design. A disturbing combination of something that had once been human and the creatures that were dealt with on a regular basis in the castle.

It reminded Pidge a lot of how they had to face mocking versions of themselves not that long ago, only with the added horror of seeing something not quite dead but not quite alive at the same time.

She was already thinking, though, mentally tearing through everything she could shout at Allura in a short amount of time.

"Okay, okay! They're... tougher than normal shadows, so they take a lot of hits to get down! These ones look like the sentries so they might not be that strong but they're going to be fast! And uhm... Ozuma said this place used to be used for tournaments! So they might have something of past fighters in them! But they're not alive so you're going to wear down quicker than they will! I think... I think, be faster and hit them harder than they hit you!"

Was that even remotely helpful? She has no idea, it was half rambling and half informative.

[ Enter: a plainclothes man, sword already in hand, standing half hunched over a fallen shadow. Though for as alive and alert as his victory might paint him to be, he somehow doesn't look entirely sure as to how he'd ended up in this position. Carlos' eyes are deer-in-headlights wide, even in the blazing sun, shoulders heaving as if he'd already been fighting for hours before this. This has to be a hallucination, that's all it can be, brought on by the level of stress and panic only a brandished chainsaw can truly provide. Hell, at this rate, maybe he's already dead and this is his brain entertaining itself with its last few firing neurons. Why it's chosen an ancient gladiator motif is several psych degrees beyond him, but he'll think about that later. This feels way too real to write off as a lucid dream, and there's something already clambering toward him past the fallen creature. ]

1.
[ Whoever it is, they look blessedly normal. Or at least, normal in comparison to the black and featureless shadows he'd been pitted against so far. There's an undeniable rush of relief in his tone as his gaze seems to focus. ]

Hey, are you alright?

[ ... Nevertheless, a twinge deep in his gut tells him to keep the sword raised between them. They're armed too, after all, no harm in a spot of self defense... After all, maybe it really is some kind of battle royale that they're far more aware of than he is. Not us versus them, but every man for himself. As much as he wants to trust them, something's refusing to let him be caught off guard. ]

2.
[ More of the same, it seems, another shadow lurching its way toward him. But there are plenty of people gathered around the outer edge that don't seem to be dark, nondescript gladiator ghosts. Catching the blade against the hilt of his own and wrenching it sideways, he aims a shout up at the crowd of spectators. ]

Hey! [ FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK. ] What's the deal here?!

A cat sits in front of the sword, her tail slowly curling and uncurling. She's studying it with an interested look on her face, attempting to decide whether she'd rather transform and use it or walk away. Blair has the knowledge that if she picks it up then she will become a Champion, but such a thing is hardly important to a cat such as she.

Looking up at the stands, she licks one of her paws. "Mrrrow?" She's playing the innocent, refusing to tip her hand that she's anything but a normal cat. Perhaps then she can get out of here without having to risk even one of her lives.

Of course, hardly any normal cats wear a hat or wink after they speak, but those are just little things.

[ Her ostentatious wardrobe probably makes up for his garden variety outfit, but she's got a matching expression that's frayed at the seams. (Aqua too, had been fighting elsewhere—the Coliseum, landscaping honestly doesn't look all that different—and suddenly she's here, surrounded by Shadow creatures she might've mistaken for Heartless were she a little further along her world's timeline.)

Also, her magic is not cooperating... Hard not to be a little distracted by how quickly her Keyblade melts from her hands as soon as she sets foot in the foreign space. (When and how she got to the arena, she couldn't say.) It's all scattered pieces and question marks, but the need for self-defense becomes readily apparent with the inky figures lurking about. Before she knows it she's got the hilt of a rusty sword in her hand, the weapon surprisingly well-balanced for its crude shape and condition.

Someone calls out to her from her left and she turns a bit too abruptly, adrenaline spiking higher than it ought to. Her posture tenses in preparation for a fight, and it takes a few seconds for her mind to make sense of his words. (She hasn't raised her blade toward him but the urge is there, and it's deeply disconcerting.) ]

...Do you know where we are?

[ A question to counter his. (She wouldn't be sure how to answer him anyway... None of this is exactly 'fine' or 'okay' or 'peachy'.) The oppressive power of the castle makes it nearly impossible to hold a civil conversation, but she does her best not to succumb to the sudden, animal instinct that's urging her toward violence. ]

Wh-What's going on...?

[ elsewhere, but no more than ten feet away from either of them, stands a rather petite teenager in a dress that is hardly fighting-wear either... clutching a sword that looks as out of place in her hand as she does in this entire arena. lilina's voice was small, uncertain, but there is a sharpness in her wide eyes that glances between carlos and aqua almost accusingly. as if they must somehow have all the answers here. ]

Nope! No. Oh no. This was not good. Any time you are somewhere you don't remember being and in the middle of a pit with other people and there are weapons then it's a no good situation and Hunk didn't like it.

Not one bit.

Glancing around he noticed others, all with rusted swords before them and everything. "Um... guys?" He said, and looked, not seeing the others, at least not right away. "I uh... I don't think we're in the Castle of Lions anymore..." He said to no one at all, feeling dread sink into his chest slowly.

He watched some people picking up swords, and others backing away. His hand went down for his Bayard but it wasn't there. "Ooooh, I don't like this..." He rumbled more to himself, reaching down to pick up the sword, just in case. "I don't like this at all..."

And yet as soon as his fingers curled around the hilt he felt... okay. Right. This felt right. He hefted it, looking confused down at it, then smiling.

'No good' might be understating it a little, buddy.

Even before he realizes just who is trapped inside the pit, Shiro's hovering perilously close to panic, eyes squeezed shut and hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

It's different than the arena he knew. No jeering crowd and no purple glow reflecting off the edge of the provided weapons, but it's still too much like before. Too much like the scraps of memories that haunt most of his nights. That break into his days like lightning strikes, there and gone in a flash and leaving naught but destruction behind.

It takes a considerable amount of effort for Shiro to force his eyes open again, his anxiety temporarily forgotten as his gaze immediately lands on a very familiar uniform. He's running before his mind properly registers what his body is doing, sprinting along the stone bleachers and leaping down rows to try and get closer because that's Hunk. Another teammate not just in the castle, but in the arena, and he can't lose another one. He can't let his team go through this too.

"Hunk?!"

Shiro's own armor is nowhere to be seen, and though it was never anything he could really consider restrictive, he's even faster than usual without it... but not fast enough. He's poised to clear the last row of bleachers when massive bars shoot up from the floor, efficiently separating the "spectators" from physically interacting with those in the arena.

Inertia carries Shiro right into the bars, slamming into them with a grunt and straining against the metal for several long moments, shoulders too broad to let him squeeze through the narrow openings.

"HUNK!"

His mind was on the weapon in his hand for the moment. He realized there were people starting to panic, or yell. There was a crowd, though he didn't look at them at first. His hand curled around the hilt of the rusty sword. Good Crow did this feel right. "Ha..." And then he felt the unnatural surge of aggression that welled up in him. He held the sword out and frowned at it.

It generally took a lot to anger Hunk. He was mostly that well grounded, thoughtful, mostly easy to scare kind of guy, and really, that wasn't gone either. Especially as someone came at him with a sword of their own.

(Somewhere he could swear he heard his name being called...)

Raising the sword he blocked a swing, eyes going wide. "H-hey!" He barked as he stumbled back three or four steps, both hands grabbing to hold the sword. Just as he moved to block again something else came and took that persons attention.

Sure, there was aggression running through him now, but also a healthy and deep well of fear. Which lead to his backing up. And up. And (something just hit bars with a good thud, and he was sure that was his name again) up, until he ran into something behind him.

Hunk jumped and looked back to see Shiro. His eye's went wide then... with a bit more anger then he intended he barked up at the older man. "Shiro! is going on here!?"

"Long story. Hold on!"

Shiro activated his right hand, illuminating he already singed edges of his sleeve as he took a single step back before leaping forward again, arm swinging for the bars in a quick, horizontal arc... only to bounce off.

Shiro blinked, staring down at his hand for a moment in disbelief before repeating the motion again. And again and again, each time with the exact same results. How could this be possible? He'd used that tech to cut through the solid, six-inch thick hulls of space ships, and now he was stymied by simple bars? Even applying his palm directly to one of the bars seemed to do little more than scorch the surface. There was no way he could get Hunk out of there on his own.

"Damn it..."

He drew close to the barrier again, eyes flicking between the yellow paladin and the other figures within the arena just a little too quickly. Most were shadows, dark and monstrous, but humanoid enough to add yet another layer of wrong to the situation.

"Anything human is a prisoner, but the rest are shadows! They're not alive, but they take a lot of hits! Strike hard and try to be fast!"

"Long story he says. Hold on he says. Hold onto wha--What was that?!" His voice broke as he had to look up and back to see Shiro's arm hitting bars. He stood steady, hands on the sword and looking between the bars above him in this area pit, and the things in the pit with him.

Nothing was coming at him just yet, but there weren't a lot of choices for them to fight. When the hum and thunks of Shiro's arm stopped his gut sank. Okay, okay, okay, okay... so that didn't work. Shiro can't get him out of here, can he? And there's no coming in to fight with him. Oh Crow...

He took a breath and held it, trying not to whine as Shiro appeared again to tell him what he was fighting. "Shadows. Shadows?!" He started in, hands holding the rusty sword out and the blade end shaking a bit. "Shadows aren't made to be hit! You can't hit a shadow. That isn't possible. They have no mass. But if they have no mass why do they have weapons and Oh Crow! Did you see that guys over there? Oh man, oh man, oh man..." He rambled in a higher pitched voice for a moment.

"You CAN'T HIT A SHADOW! How am I suppose to hit a shadow!?" He yelled at Shiro, a bit aggressively. But he was focused on them now, watchful. Anything human is a prisoner too. Okay, got it. Why was he so angry though? He didn't want to keep yelling at Shiro. Oh, right, he wanted to drop this sword (no he didn't, it felt so right in his hands) and run.

"HowdoIgetoutofhere?"

It was good that Hunk's focus was on the arena and his potential opponents. Not just for the obvious reasons (self-preservation and whatnot), but because watching the shadows meant he wouldn't see Shiro's face. Wouldn't see that special cocktail of dread and sharp focus as he slipped into a mindset made more and more familiar with every memory of his captivity that resurfaced.

"Trust me, you can hit these."

Hit them, shock them, put your hand through their chests... They don't really bleed, thankfully, and they don't leave bodies behind, but their forms replicated the feeling of steel through flesh disturbingly accurately.

Somewhere in his mind he registered the anomaly that was that aggressive edge in Hunk's voice, but the danger was too immediate to consider the tone further.

"Focus, Hunk! Just think of them like Galra sentries, but stronger! You have to stay alive until his all ends!"

Excuse you, Shiro, you can put your hand through the chest of any shadow. If it's solid, how are you--no, wait. That isn't an answer Hunk needs, and it' a great thing that he doesn't heard things like that.

He would much rather just BLAST THEM ALL with his Bayard instead of this... this... tetanus inducing rusted nearly blunt sword. "Oh, yeah, that sounds great. Galra sentries, but stronger! I feel better all ready. You realize I am nearly almost always the first man down when it comes to training, right? My shield isn't working and my Bayard is missing and--"

He let out a yelp as something moved from further away and then suddenly towards him. His rant was either Scared Hunk being scared, or a bit of odd aggression that he really needed to start channeling into this sword. There was a small part of him that was glad his Bayard was missing, because this sword felt so right in his hands (which contradicted the rational side of him greatly).

If these Not!Galra Shadows Sentries could lift an average person, then this one had to work a bit, and did. Hunk found himself held by the neck and cross weaponed with the other, struggling to keep his feet on the ground. Shiro would notice that instead of his flailing commentary, Hunk struggled and kicked and pushed, trying to get his footing so he could fight it.

[As far as he remembered, he'd simply settled down for a quick nap in his room. Nothing outside of the ordinary. That being said, he couldn't figure out how the hell he'd suddenly woke up standing in the middle of a strange place with a sword at his feet.

A dream, maybe? Lance reached down, picking up the sword out of curiosity. It feels good in his hand, even if he's not usually a sword kind of guy.]

Yeah, I can rock this...

[He swings the sword a few times, not yet entirely mindful of the people around him. It feels better and better by the moment, almost natural.]

Edited 2016-09-20 16:51 (UTC)

[ Shit. Shit...shit!

The last thing Keith remembered was resting in his and Pidge's room, now he was in the stands of some arena. He hadn't seen the arena before, but he could tell he was still in the castle. He wasn't exactly sure if that was a good thing or not, but the more he looked around the more he noticed faces that he knew, both in the stands and in the arena.

He saw Pidge talking to Allura, Shiro talking to Hunk....the only one who didn't seem to notice the others was...a very familiar blue clad paladin.

Lance.

God damn it, of course he'd be too interested in the sword than what was around him. Moving to climb over the side Keith was stopped by bars that seemed to shoot from the stone and block him from the 'action'. ]

Shit...

[ He had to do something, he had his bayard but he couldn't get to the other to help him. ]

Lance!

[Hearing his name called snaps him out of his trance, and--oh. He's in the middle of a battlefield. How Lance had managed to space out enough to not realize that at first is anyone's guess. There are familiar figures nearby, Allura and most of the other paladins, but it's Keith voice he hears.

Lance spins around, seeing the red paladin on the other side of the arena's edge.]

Okay, did I totally miss the announcement of a new training exercise or something?!

Far from it, Lance you need to find a way out.

[ Keith doesn't normally panic, but after what happened last month, after dying like he did and coming back to seeing his friends in the state they were in...yeah panicking is a thing he sort of does now.

Along with the familiar faces in the crowd and unfamiliar ones Keith could make out the black forms that were tell tale signs of Shadows.

Not like the ones from the previous month, none of them wore the other resident's faces basically, but they were still dangerous. ]

Listen to me, those black misty looking guys, they're called Shadows. Don't let them hit you if you can. They will kill you, just get out of there.

Shadows? What? But--

[Okay. So this may or may not be a weird dream, but Lance decides he'll err on the safe side and not get killed. He's about to speak again when one of the shadows in question takes notice of him and rushes at him. Lance is able to get up his sword just in time to parry the attack.]

Right, okay, fight the heartless, thanks for the advice, so where the hell is the exit?!

I have no idea, I haven't seen this place before.

[ What was he supposed to do? He couldn't get down there. The more he looks around the more he can't seem to find an exit, just a bunch of closed gates. ]

Careful, these guys look like they are stronger and meaner than what I've faced.

[ He'd try climbing to bars, trying to see if he can get over the bars, only for it to not work.

He'd just have to keep trying to find something. He hated feeling so helpless like this. ]

Nope, and it's not something he'll ever hear if Shiro has a choice about it.

The shadow got a grip on Hunk and Shiro's hand clanged off of the bars again. Shit, shit, shit, there had to be something he could do. No way through the bars, and they were too high to vault. He might've been able to climb them given time, but time was something they didn't have, and that was assuming his entrance to the arena wasn't simply barred some other way.

Scanning their surroundings, Shiro's eyes landed on the stone bleachers and a spark of inspiration struck him. He crouched low, activating his hand again to carve out a large chunk of rock. Between the narrow space the bars allowed and the awkward angle he was at, it would be a tough throw to make, but he had to try something. The shadows were big targets, taller and broader than Hunk... but Hunk wasn't exactly small himself. He'd have to be careful, and even then, it's not as if a rock would end things, but he might be able to provide a distraction.

He took a few crucial moments to aim before flinging his chunk of stone through the bars, aiming to clip the shadow's head and hopefully striking well above Hunk's helmet.

Hunk found it mildly unfair that a shadow be this strong. Or able to pick him up like this. Or pick anything up at all. This would be a heck of a lot better if they were being attacked by space monsters made of space candy or something. So much better.

He kicked, flailed and, just as he felt their weapons drawing closer to himself, something flew in over head and hit the shadowy thing. It didn't make the creature let go, but it was enough that it turned it's head to who threw the object, and Hunk managed to make his move.

The moment he got a single foot on level ground he was pushing forward, and a few hits after and the shadow creature was down. Hunk scrambled backwards again, hand wringing at his neck a moment, taking in a full breath and looking wide eyed. Not in surprise but anger.

"Thanks, Shiro!" He called back, pleased for the help, yes, but displeased at the situation. Or maybe that displeasure was holding the sword. Didn't matter. He had managed to cut one down. The rest will fall too if he had to.

"There... there has to be a way out of here!" He called back to Shiro, moving along the wall a bit, more away because he was keeping an eye on the pit and battle, not wanting to get caught by one again. Oh look, he's focused now. "And why are you out there and not in here?" Not that he WANTED him to have to fight too, but Shiro seemed to know what was going on.

Shiro's been trying not to think too hard about what should or shouldn't be possible. Caused him nothing but headaches in this place so far.

The shadow fell and disappeared, and a wave of relief washed over Shiro. He couldn't let it linger for too long with the other shadows still roaming the arena, but Hunk was okay for the moment. One fight at a time.

With Hunk finally focused his surroundings and defending himself, Shiro took the chance to try and scale the bars, with "try" being the key word. Were the situation less dire, watching the head of Voltron attempt and consistently fail to make any headway would've been amusing, but for Shiro it was just frustrating. Whatever it was that made the bars strong enough to survive his prosthetic, it also made them strangely difficult to get a solid grip on. Climbing wasn't going to work.

"I don't know. This has never happened before..."

Weird enough battling shadows. Weirder still that it disappeared. Actually, that wasn't as weird as the feel of actually hitting something when he swung the sword. At least they weren't alive. He couldn't handle it if they were alive.

Facing another he defended himself pretty well, and he could just barely see Shiro trying something from where he was. By time he hit this last one four or five times and it swooshed out of sight, he managed to see Shiro's failing attempts to get over the bars.

"I didn't mean you should come IN here!" Just, why was HE the one in here and why was Shiro out there! "How do you know what these are? Where are we? One minute I was in the yellow lion, the next I'm here!"

And then a shadowy thing came towards him and he yelped, running a few yards away, down the wall. Sorry, Shiro, you'll have to follow if you want to keep talking or helping. He took a hit and fell, turning to fight the shadow hovering above him from the ground. He'll manage. He's scared enough to take care of them. And the aggression he keeps trying to over ride keeps hitting him in waves.

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Test Drive #11: Are you not entertained?

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wow I botched that format, GO ME

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imouto it is!

Hunk | Voltron: Legendary Defender | will match format

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