IS THERE A GOOD FIGHT? [P]

[grey]

Grey had thought he would drop off the Carna and be done with him, but no. First of all, the guard on duty had wanted to kill him. It took Grey some thirty minutes to convince him otherwise (he didn't know why he bothered, either--he hated Carna as much as the next guy). Secondly, he figured he needed to get the Carna at least basic medical attention, to keep him from bleeding out. Luckily one of the guards had Healing. Unluckily, he was rueful to use it on 'Carna scum'. Grey eventually convinced him otherwise, and the worst of the Carna's injuries were healed to a point where they would no longer be a threat to his life.

The Carna, of course, had gone on to say something sarcastic, and had gotten firmly socked in the jaw by one of the other guards. Grey continually surprised himself by coming to the defense of his hostage, on the verge of raining blows with one of his fellows. Eventually he managed to get the Carna lowered into the cesspool, and then he left, figuring that he wouldn't be needed again.

And then he got stuck with watch duty. Grey was mentally complaining about it, of course, because he would be doing his Ring a better favor by hauling in food. Instead? He was condemned to several hours, standing outside the hole, trying to ignore the sound of the Carna. Snark had gotten the better of Grey, however, and he had a bottle of rotgut liquor he'd taken from the Speakeasy several months before, and stashed in his train-car. Now he had an excuse to use it.

Grey traded off watches with another Fallen, who'd been stuck with the night duty, and looked about ready to collapse. Grey walked to the edge of the barbed wire, taking the opportunity to glance down into the hole, where the Carna lay, as well as another Carna prisoner and a rogue--but they were quieter, more subdued, after over a month of being forced to endure the cesspool.

"Oi', better rise and shine." Grey cocked a brow and waited for acknowledgement. He figured he probably shouldn't be talking to the prisoners, but he was bored, and the Carna had done anything really threatening, besides trespassing. I shouldn't be thinking that, he snapped at himself. To distract the line of his thoughts, Grey raised the bottle of rotgut and cocked his head in a wolfish, mischievous gesture. "I promised you that drink." He dropped the bottle, hoping that the Carna would catch it, or else it would just shatter at the base of the cesspool. He wasn't about to lower it in with a rope. Grey glanced away from the cesspool for a moment, towards the desert around them, and the sun that would become hot and beating in a matter of minutes. It was in the process of burning the morning off the desert.

Grey couldn't say for certain why he was doing this, other than he had connected much more with the Carna in that single fight than he had with anyone in Fallen throughout the duration of his stay.

[James Colt]

James sat slumped in the corner at the bottom of the hole, resting the back of his head against the muddy wall, his eyes half closed. He never found it easy to sleep, too many nightmares for that, but it was all but impossible in this pit. He'd been reduced to small catnaps, no more than ten minutes at a time, not long enough to dream, not long enough to start remembering all the other times he'd been caged.

He took a deep breath, wincing as his ribs complained at him, he was pretty sure one of the ones on his right side was at least cracked, maybe broken, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He'd been surprised when one of the guards had healed the worst of his injuries, even more surprised when the guy who thrashed him was the one who insisted on it; he hadn't seemed to have any problems killing him, but he seemed unwilling to let him bleed out in this pit. Not many of the Fallen had agreed with him. James was a little confused at first, the Fallen were usually the least ruthless of the three rings, but he supposed none of them had a reason to feel kindly towards any Carna at the moment, let alone a prisoner. He'd been a little surprised that they hadn't killed him already, he could tell a few of them would enjoy it.

He'd goaded his captors when they brought him here, unleashed his sarcasm and sharp tongue on everyone within range, just to let them know he wasn't cowed. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it made him feel a bit better, even when one of the guards had socked him in the jaw. He'd laughed through bloody teeth, knowing what a sight he must have been, covered in blood and bruises, barely standing but still laughing. They'd tossed him into this pit and left him to his injuries. Despite the healing he was still covered in open wounds, there was a cut across his right eyebrow, several long slashes across his right ribs, and a bunch of smaller cuts and scrapes from his encounters with the ground. The deep wounds to his right shoulder and arm, and the stab wound in his left thigh had been half healed, but they still burned painfully. Add to that bruising and busted rib, he wasn't in very good shape at the moment.

Still, he'd survived worse before, and he was determined to survive this. If he was going to let himself be taken alive, it wasn't going to be so he could rot in a hole for a while before being executed by the Fallen.

There were two other shifters in the pit with him, one of them was a fellow Carna, the familiar scent overlain with mud, blood and the stench of the Fallen, the other was a rogue. Neither of them said much, preferring to huddle in their respective corners, avoiding eye contact. They'd been here for a little more than a month, apparently that was enough to break them. James snorted derisively, if they let themselves be broken after a month then they weren't going to be strong enough to survive this, they'd already given up. Giving up wasn't an option, not for him.

A voice above him made him look up, squinting in the morning sunlight, Better rise and shine, he snorted, it was the guy who'd brought him in, waving a bottle of something, I promised you that drink. He cocked his eyebrow in confusion, moving forwards almost instinctively as the bottle fell, catching it without thinking with his right arm. He hissed quietly under his teeth as the movement jarred the half healed limb, keeping his face down so his captor couldn't see the flash of pain as he examined the bottle. It was filled with the clear liquid stuff that came from the speakeasy, guaranteed to burn your throat and get you stinking drunk. Perfect.

He looked up at his captor with a raised eyebrow, still a little confused at the gesture, and raised the bottle before uncorking it with his teeth. The smell of the moonshine was unmistakable. "Well I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, bottoms up."

[/color] he grinned a little as he took a swig, his throat burning and his eyes watering. It packed a punch, but he'd had enough practice drinking the stuff that he didn't spit it out coughing anymore.

"So who did you annoy to get stuck with this watch? Standing around in the heat of the day isn't exactly what I'd call a good time,"[/color] he asked, the Fallen seemed willing to talk, which was a little unusual, but it was better than trying to coax some conversation out of the other prisoners, "Although the night shifts no better, I guess it depends on if you like freezing or cooking. After a few days in here I think I'm turning into a campfire cooked squirrel: crispy on the outside, raw on the inside."[/color] He snorted, never having a problem at laughing at his own jokes.

If the Fallen didn't indulge his appetite for talk he'd have to start filling the silence himself, maybe he'd start singing at the top of his lungs, that always managed to annoy the keepers, he guessed it would annoy the Fallen too. Could be a laugh before they got angry enough to smack him around a little.[/blockquote][/blockquote]

ooc: sorry it's so long, it just got away from me and wrote itself :]

[grey]

The Fallen would be a fool to take it as a sign of compassion; it wasn't. Grey was bored, and he figured that the rotgut was the quickest way to amuse him. He had promised the other man a drink, hadn't he? And I'm nothing if not a man of my word, he added, sarcastically. Grey's eyes roamed the desert, and then returned to the cesspool. It was easy to see the difference between the Carna and the two other prisoners--for one, the tiger shifter still had fight in him. The others? Less so. They were already broken, either by the Menagerie or their stay in the prison. Perhaps a combination of both. Weak. Grey knew that you had to have fire to survive in a place such as the Menagerie, and people who gave up didn't deserve to.

Grey noted the Carna's hesitation after catching the bottle, and his sudden stiffness--did it hurt him? Grey's did a quick inventory of the trespassers' injuries, and concluded that he had to be hurting. Grey turned his attention to the Rogue, a dark-featured woman, who picked up her head and cocked it. He recognized the feral gaze, the way that her eyes lit up as they locked on the rotgut, as though thinking food. He snarled at her, a feral sound out of a human mouth, and she turned her eyes from the Carna to him over the line of barbed wire. The threat was clear. It isn't yours.

"Well I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, bottoms up." Grey cocked a brow, seeming unimpressed, but noncommittal. If anything, the Carna had retained his humor. Our Ring is too lenient, Grey thought, idly. The Imperium would have already knocked the Carna's teeth out for insubordination. Then why, exactly, am I giving him liquor? Grey shrugged off his contradicting thoughts, but before he could drop the subject entirely, another side of him piped up. Because I'm bored with these damned Fallen, that's why.

Grey had turned to examine the desert again. He was already breaking a sweat in the early morning sun. "They don't like me, most of them. I'm too violent for their tastes." One of the first weeks he'd been a Hunter, he'd smacked a Tenderfoot for giving him cheek. It hadn't been his smartest move, and he'd been punished for it. Not to mention, it had taken weeks for anyone to get more than a few words out of him when he had first joined up, and it had taken even longer for him to begin to combat his more feral nature. He added no more than that.

Maybe he was so willing to take this particular watch because he was wanting to feel out the Carna. Grey had some respect for him; the man had put up one hell of a fight, and the aspects of this humor intrigued him. He wasn't normally so talkative around others, particularly someone that was his enemy. Grey paused, reminding himself of that fact. "Squirrel tastes better." It was a lazy comment.

Grey grew bored with standing. He eased himself onto a hill of sand, a position where he could see the cesspool and the desert surrounding it. It was beautiful sometimes, but not today. Today it was hot and he was already sweating. "You're still in good humor. Heh, bet you get even happier after you drink that. Tell me, you get even more flirtatious, or is that only when people are trying to kill you?" One edge of his mouth cocked into the suggestion of a smile, while the rest of him remained impassive.

[James Colt]

James watched the Fallen with a calculating gaze, well, as calculating as he could get with a pounding headache and a grand total of about two hours sleep, the moonshine probably wouldn't be helping his case either, but he didn't have to pretend to be a responsible adult anymore.

The Fallen seemed almost uncertain, it seemed even he wasn't sure why he was talking with an imprisoned Carna. James was content to listen, it perked his interest when the Fallen mentioned being to violent for the tastes of the rest of the ring. It seemed he would be more at home in the Carna than the Fallen, but James wasn't one to question anyone's reasons for joining a ring. He'd joined the Carna because they seemed the most likely to accept his violent nature, it had been years since the cages but he'd never lost his urge to fight, or the willingness to kill. He didn't enjoy killing, not really, but he loved a good fight, and he wouldn't hesitate to end someones life if they were a threat.

He laughed as the Fallen asked if he was planning on flirting with him again. "Pshh, I don't have to be drunk to flirt with anything with a pulse. Sometimes it gets me laid, most of the time it gets me slapped, a couple of times it's been both. There was this one rogue..." he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the Fallen, "Although I'm guessing you didn't come here to hear tales of my numerous romantic encounters, some of them might even be true. I could go back to flirting with you if you wanted, but I'd say you already got to the slapping stage, so unless I want to keep trying and see if it goes the other way there's no real point."

He considered the bottle, wondering whether he should save the liquor and risk it being taken by another guard or if he should drink it all now and be done with it. He didn't miss the way the rogue was looking at the bottle, and while he knew he could smack her down if it came to a fight over the booze, he didn't really want to hurt her. He preferred fighting someone who still had some spirit, not kicking a starving dog. Deciding to down it all and deal with the inevitable hangover later he shrugged, taking a deep swallow.

"Of course I don't want to get out of practice, and you're not too hard on the eyes. I've certainly flirted with worse. Hows about we start with names though, I'm James Colt, although 'hey you' works just as well, and I've been known to answer to pretty much any profanity you feel like using. You don't have to tell me your name of course, but I 'spose it would be easier than calling you 'that fallen wolf-thing-guy that kicked my butt'. Either that or I could just make up a name, how's Bob?"

[/color] he asked cheekily.[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[grey]

Nonchalance aside, the Carna seemed to be quick on his feet, and not an idiot. Grey recognized the stare he was getting as an evaluating one, checking for weaknesses or noting traits. Out of reflex, he shuttered his expressions. His eyes turned blank, his smile dead. "That's how you get a disease." He was amused by the other man's antics, even if he didn't show it. "Not sure how much those rogues are going to like you now, with that shiner you're getting, and those nice new scars, pretty boy. I'll give you another one if you keep it up." Grey's stoicism had faded in favor of irritated amusement, a quirked lip and a pair of exasperated ideas. The idea of the Carna flirting with him again? It didn't please Grey much, but he hadn't been getting much action with the Fallen girls. They were mostly meek things, and he frightened them, going off a stereotype basis.

Not to mention, the memories of Nycole loomed up over his head. But now was not the time to think of her. A few seconds of silence passed, with Grey observing the desert around them. He heard the slosh of the bottle, and assumed the prisoner took another swing.

The guy was just a Chatty Kathy, wasn't he? Grey rubbed his temple, and toyed with his too-long hair. He was getting friendly, now. Something that surprised Grey, considering he'd beat the shit out of him (or they'd beat the shit out of each other, depending on how you looked at it), he'd expected the Carna to have a little bit of stung pride. Instead, he was treated with a surprising amount of humor. Maybe the guy--James Colt, Grey corrected--was just bored.

He thought it over. Eventually decided he had nothing to lose. "You can call me Grey. I don't look--or act--like a Bob." Grey snorted, and rolled onto his side, to get a better glimpse at the prisoners. He was feeling increasingly like a traitor, with every word that the two of them shared. But James was surprisingly easy to communicate with, and he'd made Grey want to laugh more than once. He twisted more."How 'bout some of that liquor, Colt?" His name was emphasised with a mocking smile. Grey still waded carefully through the barbed wire, sticking his hand out to catch the bottle.

He wanted to laugh at the expression of the other Carna and Rogue. They were looking at him like he was Santa Claus wearing a purple suit. Grey cracked a genuine grin. The guy isn't so bad, he thought.

[James Colt]

"Hey, chicks dig scars, they go well with the bad-boy look,"

[/color] he flexed his good arm and puffed his chest in an exagerated way, not put off by the Fallen's suddenly blank expression, "Though you gotta be careful with that, a couple of scars, that's cool, but once theres more scar than skin they start running the other direction real quick"[/color] He was only half joking, some girls did seem to like the faint scar on his jaw, but if they got a peek at the ones on his back he tended to get looks ranging from pity to horror; he prefered the horror, it was easier to deal with.

He was a little surprised when the guy gave him his name, it wasn't something most people would tell a prisoner, it humanized you, made you into flesh and blood like them and not just a nameless jailer. At least, that's what he'd experienced, none of his captors had ever told him their names before, but he supposed none of his captors had ever given him booze either. On one part it was welcome, sure he was locked up, but the guy, Gray, wasn't threatening or hurting him, for the moment at least. On the other hand it was a little unsettling, it wasn't what he was used to, he could take pain and hunger, threats and violence and fear, it was familiar, and old routine that didn't change much no matter who held the keys to your cage. This, this unsettled him, and that was a slightly ludicrous thought, he was more used to getting beaten and starved than holding a normal conversation.

He was even more suprised when Gray reached his arm through the wire, How 'bout some of that liquor, Colt? He blinked in surprise, handing the bottle up almost depsite himself. The urge to shift and rip into his captor's arm the moment it was within reach was still there of course, but it was muted, more of an afterthought than anything. Yeah, this was weird.

"It's your booze Gray."[/color] he shrugged his good shoulder, seemingly nonchalant, even as he was trying to figure out where he stood with this guy. They'd beaten the tar out of each other, heck, maybe that's why James felt comfortable with him; despite his time with the Carna most of his fighting experience had been cage matches against people he had almost considered friends. Even if they had just tried to kill you in the ring, you got over it pretty quickly, or, at least, he got over it pretty quickly, the other guys tended to hold grudges.

The thought was more than a little uncomfortable, maybe the hooch was affecting him more than he thought. Usually he avoided looking to deeply into himself, he didn't really like who he saw. "Drinking on duty, tsk tsk Gray,"[/color] he said lightly, "Whatever would you're alpha say?"[/color] at the last moment he realized a comment about the Fallen alpha might be poorly timed, even suicidal. The first thought he had after hearing the words come out of hit mouth was a simple one; Oops
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
ooc: James put his foot in his mouth :s

[grey]

He offered a knife-edged smile. "Isn't that the truth?" He couldn't believe he was 'agreeing with the prisoner, either. If this was the Imperium, outside of the Menagerie, Grey wouldn't have even looked at him. But this wasn't the Imperium, and the Carna was making him feel increasingly amused. And it was easier to relate to him than most of Fallen. After all, Grey had his fair share of scars, and it earned everything from apprehensive to pitying glances.

The expression of the Carna was one of surprise, not that Grey blamed him. It wasn't everyday that a guard chatted up his prisoner, unless they intended on threatening them. Sweet talk, Grey knew, was sometimes much harder to deal with. He stretched out the length of his arm, and figured the Carna would toss it the remaining distance--easily a few feet, being the depth of the cesspool.

A second later, he was snatching at the bottle and yanking it through the barbed wire, nearly slicing his forearm open in the process. He leaned up to take a short swing, grimacing at the taste and the fire of it. Its your booze, Grey. He said nothing, merely took another swing. They were shallow drinks, however, half for show and half for the taste. He wasn't going to get roaringly drunk on guard duty, his other lapses in "acceptable behavior" besides the point. Chatting up a prisoner was one thing. Getting drunk? That was another entirely.

Whatever would your Alpha say.

It would be easy to rouse up some sort of "patriotic" anger. Grey simply didn't have the energy. Skye was dead, and that was that. But he wasn't about to let information slip about Tomas, the new Alpha, either. He slipped a sidelong glance at the Carna, his eyes assessing him. "'Have as much fun as you want, Grey. Just don't let the prisoners escape!' That, or nothing. Since she's dead." He shot the retort back with an admirable amount of sarcasm.

He tossed the bottle back down and stood up. "Why were you trespassing?" Grey asked, frankly, and rather abruptly. He was interested in changing the subject, lest the Carna think his dispassion odd, which he may have already been doing.

[James Colt]

James had tensed apprehensively, expecting some sort of repurcusion, surely the Fallen would fly off the handle at the mention of his alpha? Surely they'd want revenge? The other Fallen had been prepared to lynch him just for being Carna, let alone bringing up such a sore subject. Strange that Gray, who admitted to being more prone to violence than the rest of the Fallen, didn't seem inclined to take it out of his hide. Very strange.

He would have to watch his tongue a little more carefully; he didn't mind riling up the guards, heck, he outright enjoyed it, but contrary to popular opinion he didn't really have a deathwish. He just liked living dangeorusly, very dangerously.

Before he'd finished thinking, the bottle was tossed back down, and he grabbed it nimbly, with his left arm this time. It would be a shame to lose the contents because the bottle shattered on the bottom of the pit. Gray's question was a little out of the blue, but it wasn't completely unexpected. No one had asked him why he'd been in Fallen territory yet. While he was deciding what to say he uncorked the bottle and took a careful sip, reconsidering his plan of getting utterly smashed on the stuff. He was debating whether to tell the truth, or a partial truth, or lie outright. He doubted it would have much bearing on how his fate was decided.

Deciding on a half truth he shrugged, "It was my turn to hunt, and no one particularly wanted to team up with me, so I was going stag for the night. I can take down larger prey no problem, but getting it back is a hassle, so I was looking for small prey. The desert is a great place to find rabbits and lizards at night, you've just gotta be patient, so I jumped the border. It's only a problem 'cause I got caught,"

[/color] he glanced up at Grey, debating with himself, before giving a small smirk, "That's my story and I'm sticking to it, but, off the record, I was bored. I stopped being bored pretty quickly after you found me. Nothing stirs up the blood like a good fight."[/color]

He stretched a little, trying to ease some of the stiffness out of his limbs without pulling on his wounds too much. It was getting warm down here, and it would only get hotter. He supposed water would have been better than booze, but he wasn't going to complain.[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[grey]

Grey listened quietly, trying to decide on how much he believed and how much he didn't. It was a normal story, really, something that should have been expected. The last bit that the Carna spoke caught him by surprise, though, because that did sound honest. Grey offered a bit of rueful laughter and shook his head. "Let me tell you a secret, Colt. If you're going to trespass and you're looking for a fight, win the fight. Otherwise you end up in a shithole like this."

Grey rolled onto his feet, fighting himself and his thoughts on the whole damn subject. He knew he shouldn't have been focusing so intently on the Carna, on their conversations. But Grey felt a sort of... well, not comradeship, per se. But he liked the guy, and they'd shed each other's blood. He'd heard this old story, once, that how once a man and beast shed one another's blood, they were connected for life. Of course, Grey didn't really believe in that pretentious bullshit, and he was mentally scoffing at his own line of thought. "What's Carna like?" He wasn't just making conversation. He was genuinely curious. Most of what he heard of it was biased at best, from his fellow Fallen. That, or he got rumors through the grapevine.

He wiped the beads of sweat off his brow, thinking about how it had been years since he'd last been stationed in the desert, and he was ill-suited for the climate. He doubted that the prisoners would be enjoying the pit, considering the mud would harden and begin to flake, and the smell wasn't what you would consider a pretty one. If he was a more pitying sort of man, he would have felt bad for the Carna. He didn't.

[James Colt]

James snorted at the advice to win a fight if he picked it outside his territory, "Come on, if I won every fight then fighting would be just as boring as everything else. Life's no fun without a little risk,"

[/color] he shrugged a little, "Besides, I've been in worse places than this before. Heck, I live in a sewer. Admittedly I'd prefer to be in my nice dank sewer right now, but shithole is relative."[/color]

He paused, considering how he'd describe life in Carna to an outsider, and a little surprised that he was even discussing it. If another Fallen had asked him what Carna was like he wouldn't have answered, well, he might have answered, but only so he could stir them up. He wondered what it was about Gray that made him feel like being honest. He was sort of starting to like the guy, which was weird. James usually didn't like anyone, well, that wasn't strictly true; He liked quite a few people, they just never really felt the same way. It was easier to be an asshole in the long run.

"I suppose to a Fallen it would look pretty savage. The rules are harsh, but we're allowed to fight within the ring as much as we like, short of killing a fellow Carna anyway. It's... rough, but it suits me, you know where you stand in the Carna. They don't have to like you, heck, they might even beat the crap out of you for something as small as singing at the top of your lungs before dawn, funny story... But they're loyal. If you prove you're worth they'll take care of you, even if you're a pain in the ass."[/color]

He put his back to the wall of the pit again, sitting down so he could still look up at Grey, "Fallen seems pretty strange to be honest. If I'd been captured by Carna my body would already be decorating the border by now as a warning. They don't keep prisoners for long, I suppose that's why I never bother taking them. What's the point in sparing someone's life if you know they're just going to be held for a day or two before being executed?"[/color]

He supposed some of the Carna liked dragging in their defeated enemies to be interrogated and killed, but he didn't see the point. Better to kill them clean if you had to, better still to leave them where they fell. If they died, they died. If they lived, then if they were smart they'd take the opportunity to get the hell out of Carna lands. Some would call it mercy, and maybe it was, but to him it was just practical: A dead shifter is worth nothing to anyone but the keepers.[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[grey]

Grey was aware of the sweat beading at the nape of his neck and temples. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand a second time, shifting his weight. It was uncomfortable, and although he had brought a jug of water, he was reluctant to begin drinking it yet. It would be hours until someone either brought replenishments or another guard, to relieve him.

The Fallen resisted the urge to give him a rueful smile. "Risk is what gets you killed, Carna boy. But I don't blame you on that sewer bit. It would be a whole lot cooler than this hellhole."

Grey couldn't say what had compelled him to ask the question, other than relative... well. He wasn't happy. Fallen hadn't been his cup of tea. He had joined it for Nycole, more than anything, and she wasn't even there to see him bettering himself. It wasn't working. He was exasperated with the lifestyle, and Carna just about sounded like a paradise.

At the thought, he disgusted himself. He was loyal to Fallen. I am a Fallen member, he told himself. First dispassionately, and then resolutely. I am a Fallen member.

"I would have killed you," Grey said, with a shrug. "The new Alpha has made a point of telling us that we need to avoid bloodshed on the borders." He did not mention that he was practically running on a three-strike rule. One, two, three and... you're out. Most Fallen didn't like him, and that was a fact. Grey stifled a yawn, but then his eyes caught on a pair of silhouettes in the distance. He stiffened, and assumed the posture of any guard, observant and in a stance that allowed him to see both the pit and the desert.

One of the figures raised a hand in greeting. Grey returned the gesture, and a few minutes later there were a pair of fellow Hunters standing on the edge of the pit. Grey recognized them as Felix and Renee. Renee had a bag positioned firmly on his shoulders, and was wearing a none-too-pleased expression. "We've got their rations. Last food they're going to get for a couple days, McKellar said. And he may want to speak with the Carna later today."

Renee was short and to the point. Felix offered an almost apologetic glance as Renee unslung the pack and offered it to Grey. "You can handle it, I'm sure. There's some water in there for you." Felix gave him a nervous smile. "Yeah, and there should be some lunch. There'll be a relief in another couple hours."

Grey nodded, and the two other Fallen went back in the direction they had come. He held the backpack up so that James could see it, wearing a more sardonic expression, and set it down in the sand. "Maybe I'll just eat it all." He was musing, a joke more than anything. He unzipped the pack and produced three bottles of water and three scraps of stale bread, one for each prisoner, respectively.

He knew it wasn't procedure, but he was bored, and with the arrival of Renee and Felix he knew that there would be no more Fallen for a few hours. No danger of being discovered doing something he shouldn't have been. Not that he was all that worried to begin with. He proceeded to throw the wooden ladder down into the pit, over the barbed wire, and with the pack in tow, he dropped down into the pit. He kept his back to the ladder, and made sure that the Carna and Rogue were in the opposite corner. He handed James his rations, and tossed the Rogue and other Carna there's. He watched as the chunk of bread landed at the girl's feet, and she scrambled to grab it.

"You're keeping wonderful company, Colt." Grey was sarcastic, as he leaned against the rungs of the ladder and fixed his pale eyes on all three prisoners, at intervals.

[James Colt]

James shrugged as Grey told him he would have killed him if not for his new Alpha's orders, "You definitely wouldn't be the first to try it, and I'm damn sure you won't be the last,"

[/color] he shrugged, "I wouldn't have killed you, not intentionally anyways, just roughed you up a bit and left. I've killed enough to know I don't want to add to my body count unless I have too."[/color]

He stiffened as he heard footsteps approaching, settling back into his corner and listening intently, tense and watchful. Grey might be happy to have a conversation with him, but he knew there were plenty of Fallen who wouldn't be so friendly. His eyes lit up at the mention of rations, it wasn't like going hungry for days or even weeks was anything new to him, but he always felt better when he had something in his belly. The news of someone wanting to 'speak' with him was a little unsettling. He wasn't sure how they did it in the Fallen, but questions in the Carna were usually accompanied with a healthy does of pain if you didn't answer. The Fallen liked to act like they were civilized, but he wondered if that extended to questioning prisoners. No doubt things would be easier if he co-operated, but since when did he choose the easy way?

Still, worrying about what might happen to him was a good way to drive himself crazy, better to focus on the good things, like food, even if it was just stale bread and water. He looked up eagerly, expecting the food to be dropped through the fence. He was more than a little surprised when the ladder was lowered into the pit. He tensed as Grey lowered himself into the pit, hardly believing his eyes; Surely Grey wasn't fool enough to come into the hole alone? The other two shifters might not be much of a threat, pathetic as they were, but he was a different breed entirely, more than willing to bite the hand that fed him. He'd done it before, ripped out the throat of the first guard he got the chance at in the cages, attacked any keeper foolish enough to approach him without knocking him out first.

This was no different, a quick bite and he could be out of here. He shouldn't feel bad about it, like he'd told Grey, he'd killed before, plenty of times. This guy was holding him captive, so why didn't he want to kill him?

Still reeling in shock and conflicted about what to do he accepted the rations, nibbling on one end of the chunk of bread distractedly, before slipping it into his pocket for later. No sense in eating it all at once, he might need that small scrap of bread later on, there was no way to tell when he'd next get food. He knew he had to try to escape, even if he was content to stay in this wretched pit it was his duty to get back to the Carna. That didn't mean he had to kill Grey though, he could just incapacitate him or get past him, all he needed to do was reach the ladder and he could be gone, running across the sands as fast as his four legs could carry him. If he kicked the ladder down Grey wouldn't be able to follow, he could get away clean.

"Heh, you're not all that bad Grey, definitely more interesting than these losers," he nodded towards the corner with the other prisoners in it, ignoring the dirty looks they gave him, "Sorry about this, it's nothing personal."[/color]

He shifted and launched himself at Grey, as much as he could in the cramped pit, trying to push him down and away from the ladder. He didn't want to hurt him too bad, he just needed to get to the ladder.[/blockquote][/blockquote]

ooc: Lets see where it goes from here I guess, James will stay in the pit a bit longer, this escape attempt is doomed. I like the idea of some other fallen deciding they don't like James' pretty face after Grey's shift is done.

[grey]

Lowering himself into the cesspool, he could not help but think that his real reason for doing it was to look for an outlet, something familiar, to step on the edge of danger. He missed habit, he missed the routine violence of his old life--the training, the missions. Now the Menagerie robbed him of those old comforts, forced him into a life of order and companionship that often rejected him, for being the very epitome of the big bad wolf.

His boots hit the bottom of the cesspool, which was several degrees cooler than the top of it. He kept his expression wiped clean, James' previous comment coming to mind. "I wouldn't have killed you, not intentionally anyways, just roughed you up a bit and left. I've killed enough to know I don't want to add to my body count unless I have too."

Grey wished he shared that philosophy, but he didn't, and he wasn't going to any time soon.He stood there nonchalantly and wondered what the Carna was going to do. He seemed relaxed--thoughtful, if anything, as he took small bites from the edge of the bread, before putting it in his pocket. He's smart.

Grey did not push conversation. Merely stood, with an air of expectancy. Sorry about this, it's nothing personal.

It was what he had been waiting for, subconsciously if nothing else. James launched himself at him, and Grey met the tiger mid-way, shoulder lowered to take the brunt of the animal's weight. Of course, James was much larger in this form, and crushed Grey backward. He hit the ground on his side, and shifted before the tiger had too much of an advantage. He used the position to attempt to get a good bite at his attacker's throat or shoulder, twisting his body and trying to brace his fore-paws against the tiger's chest.

The fight, while it did not calm him, began to focus him.

[James Colt]

Grey seemed to be expecting the attack, and James felt the familiar exhileration, but it was tempered with pain and desperation. He wasn't fighting because he was bored this time, he was fighting to escape. The panic he'd been supressing ever since he first got thrown in this hole fought to escape. He couldn't stand being caged, he hated it, feared it, it drove him mad, until he was almost literally climbing the walls. The fear helped though, a little surge of extra adrenaline driving him forwards despite the way his right foreleg throbbed and his ribs groaned with every movement.

James growled in pain and anger as his injured shoulder was bitten, again. There was no time to focus on the injury though, so he ignored the pain and kept fighting. Maneuvering around the paws braced on his chest, he reared up onto his hind legs, trying to push his front paws down on the wolf's back and use his superior size to crush his opponent to the ground.

In the close quarters of the pit there was nowhere for the wolf to go, it gave him an advantage, his shift form was a fair bit larger than Grey's, but it meant he couldn't evade his opponent's bites.

The longer the fight went on, the less likely it was that he'd be able to escape. He kept trying to move towards the ladder, even as he fought to push Grey down, hoping he'd get a chance to climb it before the fight began to take it's toll on his already weakened reserves. The Fallen healer had stopped him from bleeding to death in the pit, but he was far from healthy. He was injured, exhausted and weak from blood loss and hunger, and while Grey had injuries of his own, he hadn't been tossed into a muddy pit to recover.

He needed to get to the ladder soon, or this fight would be well and truly over. He wasn't sure if the Fallen would bother keeping him alive after he'd tried to escape. He couldn't let himself be beaten, not this time.

He twisted around, using the wall to brace himself, trying to clamp his jaws onto the back of Grey's neck and force him to submit. If he could get into the right position he could end the fight.

ooc: Just to recap, James has tried to push Grey down to the ground again and grab him by the scruff.

[grey]

It was nothing like the first fight, which had had the air of competition. This was desperation, borne out of a need to... well, escape. The tiger reared, breaking Grey's hold, only so that he could be shoved back into the earth. There was a pause, and then his scruff was bitten, pinning him there. The sharp pain at his neck was nothing other than a reminder to win.

Grey was familiar with the position--it was one that told him to submit, but he was having none of it. A rather savage snarl tore through his chest, and he twisted his body at an angle that would have been difficult for a wolf, but was not so impossible for a tiger. It was an attempt to shift his face and jaws against the ground, and seize James by the paw. If so, he was not holding back--he would bite for all that he was worth and simultaneously buck his body, bracing his paws under him.

He felt no fear. Merely a cold satisfaction, at having the chance to taste blood again. He was a merciless thing, and the idea of seeing when James' spirit broke was one that occurred to him, in that instant. Something had changed in the Carna in the second that he had shifted, something that bespoke of fear.

But there was a strange realization, in those seconds. I don't want to hurt him. At least not beyond repair.

[James Colt]

James felt a surge of grim triumph fill him, he had Grey by the scruff, the wolf shifter had to submit. He'd be able to get away without getting hurt any more, or having to kill anyone. Just as he was about to tell Grey to stay down, he felt the other shifter move underneath him, twisting in ways that a normal wolf would never be able to, moving out from the hold that should have finished this fight. He held on grimly, clenching his teeth to keep from being dislodged.

He felt Grey's teeth clamp into his right fore paw, hard, so hard he could feel the bones shift and grind against each other. A strangled sound escaped his mouth, muffled by the wolf's fur, halfway between a roar and a whimper. He held on still, despite the fact that the blood was roaring in his ears and his vision was swimming dangerously, clamping his jaw down harder as Grey bucked underneath him.

While his jaws didn't budge, the movement jarred his right foreleg, jolting the old and new wounds, and the injured limb just would not take any more abuse. It collapsed out from underneath him, and he was forced to release Grey from his grip.

Unable to walk on the paw he shifted back, trying to push away the pain so he could move. Tucking his injured right arm towards his body protectively, he rushed towards the ladder in a last ditch attempt to get out of the pit. His left hand grabbed the railing and he tried to pull himself up quickly enough to get out.

[grey]

Grey had always had a notorious disregard for past injuries, and now was one of those cases. His body protested the movement, the jarring of his badly healed wounds from their last fight, but he didn't seem to care--at least not then. And, if nothing else, pushing himself to extremes paid off, because despite the trembling in his forelegs, the tiger snarled (or was it a whimper) and tightened his grip.

At first, that seemed like a loss instead of a victory. He mentally cursed himself for getting into this situation, instead of trying to twist from James' hold in the beginning--

The tiger's right leg buckled, and Grey twisted out from under him in a flash, snarling savagely. His hackles had bristled in a ridge from the nape of his neck to the base of his tail, and his ears were pinned. His long tail lashed as he looked from James to the other prisoners, who had edged towards the ladder after devouring their rations. They paused with the wolf's eyes on them, and it distracted him just enough for James to lunge up the ladder.

Grey's reaction was immediate. He shifted abruptly, grabbed James by the collar, and pulled him off with all the strength in his arm.

He wasn't angry, surprisingly. Just tired. Tired, with the sick taste of blood in his mouth, because after it was done with he realized that baiting an injured tiger was no reward, was no challenge. He almost regretted it.

ooc: hope the PP is okay at the end <3 if you want me to change I shall! <3

[James Colt]

He felt the hand grasp his collar, and realized with a sinking sensation that there was no way he could hold on to the ladder with just one hand. Nonetheless, he tried, grasping at the wood only to feel himself falling through the air, back down into the pit. The breath rushed out of his lungs as he landed in a heap at the base of the ladder, a sharp pain in his side telling him that he'd busted at least one rib as he fell. He tried to struggle back onto his feet, dizzy and breathless but wanting to keep fighting, but all he managed to do was flop himself onto his knees and his one good hand, breathing hard.

There was no way he'd be able to get to the ladder now, and he doubted he'd get an opportunity like that again, he looked up at the sky with a mixture of longing and disappointment. He'd given it everything he had and he'd still failed, he hadn't felt this helpless since the keepers had caught him. The realization of failure cut deep, almost as painful as his mangled and freely bleeding hand and shoulder. Almost.

Swallowing back pain and disappointment, mixed with the bitter taste of fear, he tried to regain his bearings, masking everything behind a cocky little grin as he spat out blood and fur, for the second time in as many days, "Heh, can't blame a guy for trying, eh Grey?"

[/color] he wheezed, huffing a laugh that was bordering on hysteria.

He knew he was starting to lose it a little, coming down off the adrenaline high as all the little aches he'd ignored while fighting made themselves known. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to pull himself back together. He moved gingerly so that he was sitting up on his knees, hissing under his breath as his ribs and shoulder protested the movement.

"That was a nice move though, no ones ever pulled that one on me before. Usually when I get my teeth on the scruff it's all over. Guess we don't go for submission holds in here though, do we?"[/color] he coughed a little, still unable to catch his breath properly, "So, what happens now? I think we've established that there's no hope of me getting up that ladder."[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote]

ooc: No that was fine, I forgot to mention that that would be a nice time to grab him and drag him back into the pit lol

[grey]

The Carna hit the ground hard. Grey didn't grimace visibly, but it look like it hurt. From the way James struggled to get his bearings he knew it had dazed him, but if nothing else he had to respect the man for his resilience. Grey took a step back, giving him some breathing room, to circle towards the ladder and cross his arms, eyeing the two other prisoners as James struggled to catch his breath.

Grey offered a begrudgingly smile, because shit, the guy was tough. "Nah, can't blame a guy for trying." It was a light comment. Grey raised a hand to the back of his neck, feeling gingerly at the wounds there. He was bleeding down the back of his shirt. He watched the Carna without expression, while mentally applauding him. Backbone was something that Grey respected. He got up--or... He's sitting now, instead of laying, which should count for something.

He snorted at the comment. He had never been one for "submission" holds. He'd been taught to fight until he was dead, basically, and it was a habit he had never gotten out of, even if it had just resulted in some painful gouges at the back of his neck, and some pretty serious bruising on his back and ribs. "No, I guess not."

He pulled himself up onto the ladder, and offered a smile. "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" It could have been a threat, or a promise, or neither. Grey ascended the ladder, and hauled it back up, bringing the backpack with him. Once up, he allowed himself to relax some, sitting in the bank of sand overlooking the pit and their surroundings.

"You're not bad, James. You're not bad." It was the first time he'd called the Carna by name.

ooc: figure i'll make that next thread? >3

[James Colt]

James watched as Grey climbed out of the pit, slumping a little with mixed exhaustion and relief. While he hadn't expected Grey to kick him while he was down it had still been a concern, mainly because he didn't think he would have been able to do more than curl into a ball and wait it out. He hated being vulnerable, you never knew when someone was going to hurt you just for the fun of it.

He slowly dragged himself back to his corner, wincing with every movement. He knew he'd regret the failure his escape attempt even more when the stiffness set in later. For now, much as it frustrated him and stung his pride, he would have to lay low and lick his wounds, perhaps literally in the case of his hand. There was no telling what was going to happen to him, or whether the Fallen were going to punish him for trying to escape. He wasn't sorry that he'd tried to escape though, he was only sorry that it failed.

You're not bad James. You're not bad. He huffed a little laugh, apparently getting your ass handed to you, twice, was the best way to get an over-violent Fallen hunter to respect you. Who would have known? He liked Grey, he really did, he was just annoyed that the other shifter kept kicking his butt.

"You're not too bad yourself Grey."

[/color] he answered wryly, wriggling around as he tried to find some way of sitting that didn't make his ribs hurt quite as much.[/blockquote][/blockquote]

ooc: Yeah, if you want to start the other thread that would work well. This is fun ;D