THE GREATEST SHOW UNEARTHED

[whocouldwinarabbit]

WHO: The HABIT whocouldwinarabbit and his eighteen lucky Rabbits.
WHERE: Yankee Stadium.
WHEN: Tuesday, November 13 afternoon onward.
WARNINGS: Not for the children. Graphic murder expected.
SUMMARY: THUNDERDOME.
FORMAT: Whatever our contestants would like.

"Rise and fucking shine, campers!" blasts the loudspeaker.

Eighteen bodies. Not a bad turnout. He's hauled them into the locker rooms to wake up together, tied balloon strings to their wrists, the balloons Skittles colors. Angora, some say in sharpie, Flemish Giant. And all have a smile drawn on, bunny ears on top.

"You're probably wondering what the hell you're doing here, right? Wonder no more! Welcome to the Trials, rabbits. Time to feed the HABIT."

The crowd roars in response, their fists in the air. They're not nearly enough to fill the stands, not hardly, the count's barely crawling up to a hundred -- but it's the impassive eyes of the cameras set up around the stadium that matter. These idiots are just for the noise of it.

"Now, see, the rules to this game are real simple. All you gotta do is kill everybody else. That's it! What could be easier, right? Knife in the brain. Sword in the guts. I don't care how you do it, just do it, meat. Look at it this way: the Porter'll bring you back good as new. So... what's keeping you? Besides, hey... the winner gets a prize."

HABIT laughs tinnily through the sound system, over the sound of the crowd. "If one of you makes a break for it -- go ahead! I encourage it, make your move -- but you will notice that there's no escape. Can't have you spoiling my fun, now can we? The good people up there in the stands paid twenty-nine ninety-nine for a show, and by fucking golly, they're gonna get it."

"Now... if you'll look at the balloons for your group assignments. Flemish Giants, why don't you come on out here? No, no, hey, don't be shy. Being first is a big ol' honor. So show us some blood!"

He hits the music, and opens the doors.

Comments

[invoking]

[ Gil is normally a light sleeper provided he hasn't been in an exhausting and long fight and/or had to invoke Raven. Since neither of such situations have happened in a while, he jerks sharply as he awakens. The sudden, booming voices rattle his head and he squints while his eyes adjust to the light in the room.

He's already tense, but listening to the "rules" of this "game" gets him to freeze up entirely. It's bad enough when he checks the strap on his leg his pistol is missing. He checks over the balloon tied to his wrist (Lionhead?) and eventually rips it off, looking around to see who else is here with him. ]

What the hell is all this?

[soulbondee]

[ Near him, sitting on the floor and leaning against the lockers, Yuma is still mostly asleep, practically snoring through the rules. The commotion eventually gets too hard to ignore, and with a long, exaggerated yawn, he finally starts waking up. ]

The hell's all... whaaat... ? [ even asking a simple question gets dragged out with a yawn. ]

[invoking]

[ He almost doesn't see Yuma and takes a step back. His eyes widen; there are children here? ]

Hey-- [ Gil doesn't duck down yet, though. ] Are you alright?

[soulbondee]

[ The boy scrubs his hand over his face, balloon bobbing along with the motion, but eventually, blearily, looks towards Gilbert. It takes him a second to register the question, both in content and in direction. ]

Me? I'm alright--- huh? [ He tugs on the string. ] What's this? [ And back to looking at Gil. He just does not stop pivoting. ] And who're you?

[invoking]

[ Gil's balloon floats above their heads, probably bumping into other ones left discarded against the ceiling. He offers his hand to Yuma, to get the kid on his feet at least. ]

I'm... not sure. [ He scowls, indicating his displeasure. ] It doesn't seem like anyone has any idea how they got here.