(no subject)

[polyturtle]

Who| Don and OPEN
What| Don is preparing for his 10th Arena and worrying about the arrested Tributes
Where| Throughout the Tribute Tower, particularly the roof, the D9 suite and the Training Center
When| The last three nights before the Arena
Warnings| None at the moment, possible Arena talk!

Brewing coffee had never taken such an eternity.

The closer the Arena date came, the slower the time seemed to go for Don. No sign of the jailbreakers being released, only continued pedantic announcements of how the investigation of Penny's murder was gone. Half the Tower was practically missing now. And he could only keep wondering if he did the right thing in ultimately not getting involved in the jailbreak.

Or maybe he did the right thing. The fact that no one had returned is a sign it went bad. And he at least was able to finish the Shakespeare, though much good that did. He'd only been able to get a general approximate location of a pod near the Capitol Art Museum with the equipment Lonestar had given him, but not much else. That, and with the arrests surrounding Penny's death...and the very subtle shift of how he was treated on the streets, even though he was known to not be involved with the jailbreak or murder...

...was this coffee ever going to finish? Shell, it had been ten Arenas now, and he couldn't remember feeling more terrified, even after Ariadne's death. Things were most definitely changing, and he knew the pressure was only going to get worse. He cracked once; how now was he going to stop from cracking again?

Most of the last nights before the Arena would be spent training, drinking his own brewed coffee, and pacing. Lots of late night pacing, throughout the Tower, and on the roof, just drinking coffee. And worrying.

Comments

hope this is okay?

[biomechatronic]

Dennett also couldn't sleep well, and it was also because of the Arena. He's already died twice and he had to say the second time wasn't any easier than the first. But what was he going to do? Die for a third time, or would he actually have to kill someone?

A doctor, killing. It went against everything he'd devoted his whole life to.

And he still hated heights, but he found himself on the roof, anyway, hoping the distance from the city and the silence would give him some kind of answer.

Instead it gave him a...? He looked down at his mug, shocked. "They wouldn't...would they?" Seriously. He could NOT be hallucinating a giant turtle. Not without serious chemical aid.

Totally!

[polyturtle]

"...Hmm?" At this, Donatello turned, frowning. Oh. He'd seen this man around, as a newer Tribute, though he hadn't really met him otherwise. "Do you mean me, or something else?"

[biomechatronic]

Dennett's seen some strange looking Tributes in the Arenas, but logic dictates that they were, you know, costumes, the same way they'd stuffed Dennett into a tuxedo for the last one.

Up close, it sure didn't look like a costume.

"I meant, uh. You. That's not a suit, is it?" He had to ask, just to be sure.

[polyturtle]

"...No." Don shook his head. "Not a suit."

Which should answer the doctor's question. He was not on drugs, or hallucinating in any way. That was a giant turtle, who was clearly used to people being surprised that he existed.

[biomechatronic]

Not a suit. "So that's a...." He stops, tilting his head, trying to find a finish to that sentence that didn't sound, well, crazy.

And failing. "You're not from Earth," he says, finally. "Some kind of, I don't know, space alien." Because, yes, it's easier to believe that. At least there's some kind of space science involved.

[polyturtle]

"Actually...I'm from Manhattan," Don replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Mutated by space goo, but still American born and raised."

Sorry, doc, you weren't getting out of this easily.

[biomechatronic]

"Manhattan? But you're a...a...a...tortoise!" He remembers that much biology. "A large, sentient bipedal tortoise."

Give him a minute to let this sink in. It's probably bad that he'd almost rather it be a hallucination.

"Are you like...an escaped experiment? Or from some Superfund site? Or Three Mile Island?" Or...something? He is still a scientist: he has questions, friend.

[polyturtle]

"A red-eared slider, actually."

Semantics. But in any case.

"...No, no, and...before my time." He shook his head. "I just fell into the sewer during a car accident."

[biomechatronic]

He nods at the correction. Close enough. The important thing is that the, uh, sentient amphibian didn't deny it was a sentient amphibian.

"There are tortoises in New York?!" Radioactive goo? Sure. Talking tortoise? All right. But tortoises just roaming the streets of New York? A bridge too far, friend.

Then again, Dennett, you're the guy who brought cyborgs to Detroit. "I-I'm sorry. Dennett Norton. From Detroit."

[polyturtle]

"Donatello Hamato." Well, more like moving through the shadows of New York. "And...there's me and my brothers. And our master. And...one or two more mutants, That's about it, in terms of that."

[biomechatronic]

Well, once Dennett's accepted that there are talking bipedal tortoise mutants, he really can't draw a red line in the sand about a Renaissance sculptor's name.

"Oh. Well, that's a relief, I suppose." Not really, but he has to say something. "A-are you toxic? Has anyone checked your radiation levels?"

[polyturtle]

Oh, dear.

"I'm not toxic in that fashion, no. I was exposed to a type of alien radiation inside what mutated me," and the mutagen virus, not that he planned on mentioning that to someone already clearly worried about his health in Don's vicinity, "but that was a long time ago. Standing around me isn't going to be a problem." A pause. "...Unless you're a vampire and try to drink my blood."

[biomechatronic]

He's not an expert--Dennett's more about robots and brains than toxins, but he wishes now he knew more, had a good medical library he could access. But he does realize--he's slow, but not rude--that he's probably making the other man--turtle--uncomfortable.

But that...doesn't help. "There are vampires here?"

[polyturtle]

Oh...oops.

"Not that I'm aware of, anymore?"

[biomechatronic]

"Anymore." Oooooh boy. He almost dreads the day this place and this sort of revelation feels normal. "Well, I suppose the shell gives you some advantage." Have a clumsy neurosurgeon try to make a joke.

[polyturtle]

"...Something like that." He rubbed the back of his head at this. "If I even really had a neck to begin with."

[biomechatronic]

"Well, I mean, you have a neck-like structure." Oh, you brought this on yourself, tortoise, because now he's staring at your anatomy. "Though I was thinking more about getting stabbed in the back." Which was not a metaphor in this place.

[polyturtle]

"Oh." Technically, but- "Someone could do it, with enough strength. Someone has, actually. Though...one of them's not here anymore."

[biomechatronic]

Dennett's just going to give a sheepish laugh. "I think I'm going to stop trying to say reassuring things." Because he's not sure how much more he can take.

"So. Uh. How long have you been here?" That's a safe topic, right?

[polyturtle]

"Two years." Don sighed as he answers. "Ten arenas, once this new arena starts."

[biomechatronic]

"Jesus--erm, I mean," Don't start cursing now, Dennett. "I don't even...how do you manage?"

[polyturtle]

"Carefully." Don let out a breath. "To not go insane again."

[biomechatronic]

"I can imagine. That's what I'm afr--'again'?" What does again mean?

[polyturtle]

"...Well," Don frowned. "This place can do things to you."

[biomechatronic]

He's seen avoxes, so he knows that 'do things to you' can be very, very literal here. But that seems almost tame compared to the mental affect. "That's what I'm afraid of. I can't decide if it's good or bad that I know people here. I mean, people from my home."