I'm not sure what I'm looking for anymore

[somegrimshit]

Who| Rochelle and Open!
What| Rochelle just got here. What's going on, where am I? Why does everyone make a face when I ask about Nick???
Where| Around the Tribute Center
When| After the arena
Warnings/Notes| Possibly swearing at some point? Discussions of violence, probably.



Was this the rescue they'd worked so hard for? Was this the rescue that her and her team had dragged themselves through hell, chased by zombies, tanks, witches, and every special type of infected that walked this godforsaken earth? The last thing she remembered was making it to the helicopter, a tank close on her heels. It'd been a close one, but when she'd reached out, sturdy hands gripped her, as they always did when she needed them to. Whose hands, it didn't matter, because they were all a unit, each depending on the others for survival.

But this was different. The Hunger Games, they said. Battle to the death, they said. Like some kind of Battle Royale, except instead of Japanese kids in a dystopian future...It was her. Also in a dystopian future. Well, shit. She knew that there had been a lot of issues with carriers, people immune but exposed. They'd been gunned down by the military (though her sources on this were scribbles in pen on walls), but it seemed a little...excessive, to shuttle them in a helicopter to compete in some kind of blood match.

She is careful, as she walks, slowly going around the suite, looking into her room, walking down the hallway and exploring the areas available to her. She's thinking, mind whirling, but stays calm. Anyone who sees her will notice, she doesn't seem to be panicking, but there's a way that she watches everyone around her, quietly observing them.

She hasn't seen people in a long time, besides her teammates, but even as she quietly looks around at these new faces, she feels lonely. Three shadows are missing from her side, and she constantly turns to speak, asking Nick what he made of this, about to joke to Coach they ought to find the cafeteria, asking Ellis if he saw anyone looking friendly.

Her priorities were ordered neatly: Find her boys, find out what's going on, find weapons, and escape.

Rochelle can be located pretty much anywhere she's allowed in the Tribute Center, and might approach friendlier-looking people. Those who aren't so friendly-looking can come over and figure out who the new meat is.

Comments

[streetsmarts]

Once the truth of it becomes undeniable, Nick suddenly feels something of a weight on his chest. He doesn't know if he should be relieved, he doesn't know if this is better than back home. He does know that if she's here, odds are Coach might be here soon too. Or, y'know, on the way. Trust him to take his sweet time. The point is, it feels like he's to blame somehow and he's not sure why. He's suddenly hyper aware of the fact that the only people whose opinions he could give a damn about are starting to file in. Oh boy, do they have catching up to do.

He decides then and there that he'll let them figure it out himself, particularly since he's being inundated with the kinds of questions he'd been asking when he arrived. He holds his hands out, palms up and toward her face in an effort to calm her a little.

"Hey, hey. Slow down." He gives her a look, just so she knows that he knows it's alright to be calm. "This is some sci-fi bullcrap right out of some redneck magazine, but hear me out. This?" He gestures around. "This is not our world. There's no Ceda. No infected. They literally picked us up and put us in a new universe." He gives her a minute to process that, trying to keep a straight face even though he knows it's ridiculous. "Look, I've been here almost two months now. I've been in the Games. I can tell you what you want to know, but it's not good."

[somegrimshit]

His expression does calm her down, which is fortunate, because of what he's going to say next. But Rochelle trusts him implicitly--she's learned that when Nick gives his opinion, it's honest, whether you like it or not. So she stares up at him, and nods, slowly relaxing. She doesn't let go quite yet, though the grip relaxes, and Nick can remove himself if he chooses. But with her world turning to a chaos beyond even the Green Flu, she wanted to know that at least one thing was there that she could count on.

As he explains, though, her look becomes more and more incredulous. If it had been anyone but Nick (or Coach), she might ask just what the fuck he was on. She'd assume that they'd either taken too many hits from a charger, or given up and gotten ridiculously high. She opens her mouth to protest that it couldn't be two months, that they'd just gotten on the helicopter, and realizes...that'd kind of the least incredible thing about all of this.

She does let go of Nick, then, to lean heavily against the wall. One arm supports her against it, the other arm goes to rest on her forehead. There is no way this is happening. In fact, she informs Nick as much.

"There is no way this is happening."

But it is happening, this place is too shiny, too futuristic, like she had fallen into some Sci-fi channel original movie. She takes a few long, slow breaths. Collect herself. Stay cool. But it's real hard to keep her usual calm. "So this is it. No helicopter to rescue us, no boat to climb in. No way to get out of here. We're stuck in some future Battle Royale from hell." She finally manages that much, at least.

[streetsmarts]

There's absolutely no reason to sugarcoat shit like this. You don't stare down a hoard of zombies and say it'll be an easy ride. Lying about the odds is for conning and conning alone. He isn't looking to trick Rochelle, even if being the bringer of bad news isn't something he relishes. He'd like for her to be happy to see him and call it a wrap, but it's never that fucking easy.

Normally he'd brush her off for touching him too long, not because he doesn't like it but because he has posturing to do. For now, he's letting it happen. If it stops her freaking out, she can do it as much as she likes as far as he's concerned.

"If it's not happening, we're both high out of our gourds." He says that bitterly, because it almost seems like the better option at this point. "You got it, toots." A small smile finds his face, even if it's insincere. "But until they send us in the Arenas, you can focus on the fact that there's no infected. You know what there is, though? A bar. Booze. We're celebrities, we don't pay for shit. They feed us and dress us like we're the fucking A-list around here, Ro'. We don't need to get out of here, we need to win." He came to that conclusion a long time ago, like hell he isn't getting the team in on the plan here. "We've all seen bullshit before. There's no way we don't have an advantage here."

[somegrimshit]

She listens to him quietly, staring off. Just like she listened to so many other plans. Calculating, evaluating. His point is a good one. They're suddenly safe from zombies, safer than she could have imagined. In a land that was not even touched by zombies. Even back in New Orleans, getting carted off by that helicopter, they could only imagine what fate might have in store for them--Living in some post-apocalypse grungy wasteland, like some kind of movie you'd see on the sci-fi channel.

Was this really better? Fighting to the death repeatedly, for the sport of some sick assholes? But if they won...But of course, only one could win.

Finally, she looked up. "Alright, Nick. We need to find Ellis and Coach, then. You said you've been doing this for--two months?" Disbelief flitted across her face, but the odd time difference was the least crazy thing about all of this. "The four of us...we can figure this out. Plan together. If we've gotta win to survive, than we're going to win." That's what they did, wasn't it? Surviving.

[streetsmarts]

With a surprising amount of patience, Nick lets her stare off and think about it all. He needed his own time to mull it over, but he'd been alone with nobody to spell it out for him quite so well. He doesn't snap or bother her, but he does smirk half-heartedly when she finally snaps out of it.

"You're late to the party, Ro'." He feels pretty damn bad for her planning like she knows the half of it. "I know where Ellis is. He's in District Four, boring someone with his story. Coach is.." He trails off, because this part in particular is enough to stir sadness in Nick of all people. "Coach isn't here. He's probably still back home."