the HABIT. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whocouldwinarabbit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2012-11-13 06:13 pm
whocouldwinarabbit) wrote in capeandcowllogs2012-11-13 06:13 pm
Entry tags:
- damian wayne | robin,
- gilbert nightray | n/a,
- kanaya maryam | sylph of space,
- kyouko sakura | ophelia,
- minako arisato | the wild card,
- piccolo | n/a,
- rick bradbury | n/a,
- rin tohsaka | n/a,
- † aoi | the laughing man,
- † david xanatos | magnificent bastard,
- † jay | n/a,
- † ladd russo | white suit,
- † lenalee lee | n/a,
- † matt murdock | daredevil,
- † max gibson | batwoman,
- † n/a | the habit,
- † pamela isley | poison ivy,
- † sayaka miki | oktavia,
- † yuma tsukumo | unicorn king
THE GREATEST SHOW UNEARTHED
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.
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.
no subject
It was only a matter of time before things took such a turn. I don't know why anyone expected better.
no subject
HABIT needs to work on his originality. Or maybe everyone else needs to stop copying him.]
I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop ever since I was dumped in this city. I just didn't think it would take the form of a death match.
no subject
she drops the fragments of the balloon in her lap, giving him a weary look. ]
Those shoes drop with an alarming frequency, really. You're fortunate to have missed them until now, if you've been here for any remarkable quantity of time.
I suppose it's the culmination of some rite of residency. You're finally receiving the proper welcome and there's no one here to apologize for it.
[ she pauses for a beat. there is at least one person here, actually. ] ...Sorry.
no subject
Shows how much he knew.
He doesn't really know what to say in response. He hadn't expected the apology or the bitterness with which she spoke of the City's shenanigans. She looked and sounded far more exhausted than any person her age should.]
What's your name?
no subject
she pulls back up the pieces of the balloon, stretching them out again so he can see. ]
Today, it seems I'm "English Lop". [ not inappropriate, given her inexplicable accent. ] Any other, it would be Kanaya. You?