Round Two - Ishmael Khalil vs. Mako Perez

[lance]

The tributes step back out onto the arena one at a time to a backdrop of their name being boomed over the loudspeaker by the announcer. But that pales in comparison to the roar of the crowd as they take in the new and (allegedly) improved looks of the tributes. Freshly scrubbed clean of the blood of their enemies, faces and horrendous jumpsuits alike now partially covered by antique and rusting yet somehow still wearable armor, it marks a shift in the Games. If the first round was a bloodbath in the most literal of sense, this round will be anything but - a simple duel to the death, fought four times over, until there remains but one standing in each respective section.

Notably, to the tributes, there are three major changes to the arena. First and foremost, the bodies of their opponents have been removed, though the bloodstains (of which there are many) remain. Second, each section, once a single, solid color, has now been bisected - two appear half-red and half-blue, while the other two are half-green and half-yellow. And three, perhaps most disturbing of all, the line of drones has split into pairs, each hovering over the tributes' section and rotating for the entire arena to see.

One has your face on it. So the other, presumably, belongs to your opponent.

Not that it'll make a difference in the end as to who they are - if you are to survive this, they must die all the same.

--

Section Two will consist of the following mandate, to be completed only in death:

Ishmael Khalil (60) vs Mako Perez (33)

[10th retro gm | paxton hayes]

A frantic heart claws at his chest as Edith falls to the ground next to Namoi, and the roars of the crowd cheering for death bellow through his ears. It's sickening, yet Ishmael can't do a thing about it. Death tried snatching him away, the grim reaper was standing right there, but for now, it's not his time.

But soon the loud roars turned into silence, and in that exact same moment, his hand tightened around his sword. Something is happening, something is going on, and yet the only thing running through a frantic mind is figuring out how to stay alive. Some of the banners were going up in flames as others were rising higher into the sky. It's so loud, impossible to even think, impossible to figure out what the next move is. Staying alive. Finding the animal inside.

Is it possible?

"All tributes please report to the edge of the arena to prepare for your next round."

A lump sits in the back of his throat, and for now having a moment to breathe, a moment to gather himself is super important because it allows him the chance to rethink his approach. Two people were hitting him before, but what's next? What happens now? It doesn't take long, but soon they've patched him up, offered some first aid to give him a chance to stand against whoever he fights next. Ishmael was one breath away from dying, but now he's standing tall and strong, and maybe it'll help him succeed.

Returning to the arena, he finds himself standing in a different location, and the crowd is cheering louder than ever before. At least the outfit looks different than before. At least it might offer some sort of protection. Maybe it can help him stay alive longer than he thought possible.

Nothing from this place is to be trusted.

Ishmael looks at his opponent as his grip on the bloody sword tightens. Killing one person was hard, but maybe this will become easier. Maybe this is all that's needed to figure out how to make it home from this madness alive. Talking won't do any good since they're both fighting for the same reason. Formalities mean nothing when one has to die.

Taking a deep breath, Ishmael steadies himself before leading the charge. Someone has to die, and he'll do whatever he can to make sure the forgotten soul isn't him.

credit to Kiah <3



Attacks Mako
MS2bojEy3nsword
1136 -- Severed Left Arm at Shoulder -- 10 damage

sword

[d7m fraser birk ♚ frankel]

All Mako does is stare down at Tanvi, the face of the first person he has ever killed slowly burns into his brain. She has become a scar on him now, a reminder forever if he leaves here but he knows there will have to be more. Did all the rebels that his father killed leave a mark on him? Did all the Capitol soldiers that his mother killed leave a mark on her? Today he could reunite with them and find out, but he would rather continue a few more years wondering. Not all questions need answers, he has a legacy to build after all.

Except he cannot keep his eyes off of Tanvi’s body, even after being ordered to leave the area. It takes a few minutes after the order for him to even think about leaving her. ”Michael Pérez, return at once.” An individual call, with his full legal name. Before someone is given the chance to drag him from his victim, he obeys like the little sheep that he has been brought up to be. It just does not feel right to him, leaving her like that. At least on the farm he had the decency to discard the carcasses in an honourable way. Either he used every piece and sent it to market, or the stock was turned to ash. Not just left, alone, lying on the battleground…

Blood and sweat are quickly wiped from his brow by the Capitol workers, none of them talk to him. Just muttering under their breath, the odd comment on the relief that he has no limbs to sew back on. It is like he is a machine, the mako that he was named after. Pulled from battle, patched back up with a douse of oil, then sent back out to work again. He has never been treated like a human all of life, now it looks like he is not going to be treated like one in death.

Like Mako with the new armour, the arena has had a quick makeover and a new opponents face is draped next to his. The neighbour from Six, equipped with a far longer blade than his own. ”You got a sword?” Mako says, pulling out his measly knife that is nothing compared to what the other guy holds.

”Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

My fucking arm. He can’t say it out loud, not when the vomit bursts from his lips whenever he takes a glimpse to his left. Lights crackle in his vision and it is not from the fires high above. Blood and vomit bursts from his shoulder and mouth. The tiny smidgen of adrenaline is the only thing that charges his right arm with little blade towards his maimer. His heart is on overdrive and his lungs don’t know when the slow down will begin.

There is no way he is falling into his own puddle of bodily fluid, that is no way to die. What a waste Tanvi’s life will be if he just gives up now.

Attacks Ishmael D6m | Knife

v1rVdVIJdVknife

[2169 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage]

knife

[10th retro gm | paxton hayes]

"You got a sword?"

It catches him off guard for just a second, but when his opponent shows his weapon, Ishmael can't help but feel a moment of relief. Swords extend further, they give a better chance at fighting, yet he knows it's not over until it's over.

Bile rises into his throat as an entire arm falls to the ground right before his eyes, and it's hard to hold any sort of vomit back. Looking weak isn't an option, it's something that will only drive him crazy as the crowd cheers grow even louder. It's a terrifying feeling, and deep down Ishmael feels horrible for what has happened, yet nothing can change it. Apologizing won't give Make his arm back. It won't change anything.

Even as he screams, Ishmael feels his heart breaking in half, but the animal inside of him begs him to keep going, to stay strong despite everything that's going on. Weakening the enemy, making it harder for someone to attack him, it's what will keep him alive, and apologizing for trying to live isn't worth it. Everyone wants to live, everyone wants to make it out of this mess alive, and right now only one person can do so. Only one person will wear a crown.

That crown will belong to me.

So many are waiting back home for the toys he hasn't delivered yet. Who will do the job if he dies in this godforsaken place? It's something he doesn't want to think of, but it's always on his mind. Seeing his family, seeing everyone again, it's all so important, however, a frantic mind is known for playing tricks, and in this moment, Ishmael actually believes he's capable of surviving the torture chamber.

Downcast eyes lock onto the ground darting across the blood and vomit, and it makes him sick. His stomach churns as he tries keeping the vomit from spewing through his own lips.

"You'd think they wanted to keep this fair," For a moment, his gaze shifts between his sword and Mako's knife, "but life isn't fair."

One more deep breath. Just one more moment is all he needs. A monster is born from the misery of others, yet it's all that's needed to see family again.

credit to Kiah <3




attacks mako
t50kRZap96sword
1015 -- Deep Gash on Right Bicep -- 8.0 damage

sword

[d7m fraser birk ♚ frankel]

”You are not taking my other arm.” Mako stumbles back as the sword nearly wipes out his right arm, instead it just takes a bite out of his bicep and piles on more of the pain. So, this is his taste of karma, the same suffering that Tanvi had to endure but surely Ishmael has killed to be here too? Mako just needs to pluck up the strength to deal his own kind of punishment. Right now, he can just imagine his grandfather shaking his head at him if he could see this. His grandmother would be screaming with him, he just hopes they never get to see this. He just hopes he can return home whole.

”Yeah, not fair for you.” Mako pushes all his reserves away from his vocal chords, that is it, if he speaks up again the entire contents of his stomach will follow with the words. Instead, he just boots the vomit and blood covered arm towards Ishmael, the limb splatters bodily fluids all over the place. Hopefully all over Ishmael too as it lands just past the wing of his opponent.

Kicking limbs and sick at him won’t kill him though. He can’t blame his tools for his failures, maybe the blood loss and the slowly fading vision in both of his eyes, and the head on his shoulder that is gaining a kilogram of weight every thirty seconds…but there is still fuel left in the tank. The little blade has already tasted flesh before, now it is time to let it feast.

Attacks Ishmael D6m | Knife

lF_5YWD6Ruknife

[2116 -- Deep Gash on Forehead -- 9.0 damage]

knife

[10th retro gm | paxton hayes]

A sigh leaves his lips as the other arm remains attached, but it's covered in blood. Just a few more moments of precision and maybe Mako wouldn't have any arms left. That would help him more than anyone could ever imagine, but it's not about the arms. It's not about anything except killing everyone standing in his way to give him a chance to survive this game.

"Yeah, not fair for you."

At first this statement doesn't make much sense. How is it unfair for him? Ishmael has the sword, the advantage, and Mako has a knife, something that isn't nearly as long as the sword, but it's also just as deadly especially if it catches him completely off guard. Maybe that's what this person wants, maybe that's his plan, and Ishmael is starting to figure it out, yet he can't completely dodge the arm as it comes flying towards him.

Blood and vomit splatter across the outfit the gamemakers fit him with, and as he's focusing on the arm, vomit, and blood, Ishmael momentarily forgets about his opponent until blood starts gushing down his face running into his eyes making it hard to see. A bloody hand removes as much red as possible.

Losing focus is deadly. Losing focus is the only way anyone can die, and right now Ishmael knows what has to be done, he knows the fight at hand. It's all or nothing, and maybe just maybe that's all that's needed at the moment. A frantic heart begs for an escape. A frail mind pleads for the chance to wake up in bed from this horrendous nightmare.

But it's not a nightmare.

"If I can't have your other arm, I'll take your head!"

It could be a bluff for a distraction. It could mean a million different things, and Ishmael knows what's best to do. Either go for the head to land a kill, or target something else completely. All that's left is a second to decide, and whatever that is, he knows he can live with it.

credit to Kiah <3





attacks mako

FnPpM5BrFrsword
1008 -- Shallow Cut on Back -- 4.0 damage

sword

[d7m fraser birk ♚ frankel]

If he was a horse or a cow right now, he would have had a bullet in his head before he could see daylight again. His grandmother talks about miracles all the time, Mako is going to need one of them to be able to walk out of here. That thing called Karma; it must work quickly. Tanvi’s death was not even an hour ago and already it has left a curse on him.

Mako’s insides are pouring up through his throat and his veins are bursting through the gaping hole where his shoulder used to be. It is so hot for him right now, there is no talking anymore. Not more retaliation to the jibes from Ishmael, just coughs with an added shot of blood and vomit. There is a little smidgen of energy left to point a smirk on the left side of his face when he sees the wound on the other kid’s face and the stains that cover his jumpsuit. He is painting a picture on Ishmael, while the other guy is just tearing Mako apart.

The sword nips at Mako’s back, not quite catching the head that Ishmael pleas for. Despite obtaining all his limbs, Mako’s opponent is just as close to death’s door as he is. They are both knocking, very loudly but only one of them will get an answer and this is the very door Mako wishes to not see open in front of him.

All hope rests on the little rusting knife, a flea compared to the mighty piece of steel that so remarkably cut through his own bones, but his little blade is a whippersnapper, ready to bite until the very end. Mako has a legacy to play with, a real reason to live and he will crawl through a mountain of vomit to get to his goal. He spits more of his guts out onto the ground before pressing forwards with one mighty last push.

Attacks Ishmael D6m | Knife

2RzfyH9Dd7knife

[2020 -- Shallow Cut on Left Forearm -- 3.5 damage]

knife

[10th retro gm | paxton hayes]

Everything is fading, specks dance before his eyes, yet Ishmael carries himself forward. Death is calling, but only one will answer. It's not the first time his heart started racing, and the world started spinning. Its's not the first time his limbs felt weak. Death nearly knocked him down just moments before this matchup, and now it's time for him to prove why he's not worthy of dying just yet.

But maybe it's his time.

No.

For a moment, Ishmael wonders just how much blood runs through his veins before it all spills out onto the ground below. How much more can he take? Most of the time, he would lay down and just let the world do whatever it desired to him, but now that death is coming closer again, standing up and fighting is important. Finding his worth. Proving that he's more than just a kid digging through the garbage back in district six is the strongest desire.

Making toys for kids in need.

That's what keeps him going. That's what helps him press forward.

Using the sword as a cane to stop himself from swaying, Ishmael regains control of his body, and he looks at the sword, the blood dripping from it and tries finding the strength inside to carry on when a breeze would simply knock him over. The roaring of the crowd echoes through his ears, and the ringing grows louder and louder.

His head is throbbing, and he feels like it's going to explode, yet he does his best to keep calm through it all.

I will not die today.

With the last bit of his strength, Ishmael charges forward hoping it's not a fatal mistake.

credit to Kiah <3

Attacks Mako

NQeXfDZU6Rsword
1131 -- Shallow Cut on Right Calf -- 3.5 damage
sword

[d7m fraser birk ♚ frankel]

Shaking beneath his feet, the ground is grabbing at Mako’s ankles, doing its best to try and drag him down in front of Ishmael. There is a slither of fight left in him, even the tiniest amount might just get him through this but how is he going to face the other tributes with the power he has missing now?

Death is beginning to tease him; its lips are delicately brushing against his and only the roar of the crowd can pull him away from taking the kiss. The curtains are not drawing just yet for Mako but the lights on the stage are definitely beginning to fade.

Here it is then, the reality of how fragile life really is. The mako destruction machine, the thing that he adopted his name from brought pain like this onto hundreds. Hundreds of innocents. Hundreds of people just fighting for their freedom, for their lives. Even children. Can he be proud of the man that built that machine or can he proud of the woman who stood in front of it?

Too bad he shares his blood with both.

He is crawling to the finish line and so clearly is Ishmael. The power of the sword is slowly dwindling and its not quite strong enough to push Mako over the edge just yet. Just one right move with the little blade and he can end this.

”I will make it quick.”

Attacks Ishmael D6m | Knife

04B|CI3a8Gknife

[2074 -- Block -- 0.0 damage]

knife

[10th retro gm | paxton hayes]

"I'll make it quick."

Ishmael takes a step back as the tiny blade swings through the air, and all it takes is lifting his sword higher to prevent the blade from striking him. But it takes majority of his strength just to stand on his feet. The race to the death isn't for the weak.

The world spins faster and faster and he feels like he'll fall over without any notice. Every beat of his heart bounces through his skull.

"You'll have to do better than that."

A once light sword is heavier than ever before, and his lungs are screaming for some sort of release. Nothing helps. Nothing ever will.

"Too bad you're not going to get another chance."

His head is spinning, yet his mind stays focused. It's all he can do.



Attacks mako

EBJS8KcNuOsword
sword