OOC: I'm going to take a guess and say that you will either have your announcements before or after food, I will change this to suit if need be.

Nathans eyes snapped open at the noise, he had given up on trying to sleep on that nightmare of a bed and taken to sleeping on the ground, it had not been all that bad considering. before the call for lights out had came Nathan had taken several springs from his torture device called a bed and crafted them into a makeshift handle and a sheath on his left wrist, it wasn't the best construction but so long as Nathan didn't get into a fist fight anytime soon there would be no problems. The weapon was secure up his sleeve, simply with the act of rearming himself Nathan felt much more secure about surviving this.
The canteen was a noisy affair with bustling slavers everywhere, mostly stuffing their faces none really paid attention to the slaves.
"Thanks" Nathan said roughly as a man with half his face covered in burn scars shoved a bowl of food in his direction
"Don't be zombie, only reason you get anything but brahmin crap for breakfast is because Saint says I can't starve the entertainment." Nathan ignored the insult and went to find a seat preparing himself for yet another demoralizing speech from everyone's favorite [censored].
on his way Nathan saw the burned man walk into a door with what looked to be an understocked kitchen behind it, spying several bags of flour Nathan added yet another object to his list of Things For Escape. Taking a place at what looked to be a large rotten log Nathan started eating his slop ignoring the fact it looked to be made of half spit and waited for the circus to begin.

Ren slowly got off the bed she had been sleeping on as the slaver walked by making a racket. She hadn't slept well, but was certainly wide awake now. She followed that other slaves as they mulled to the canteen.

As the bowl of slop was given to her she quietly murmured a sarcastic, "Thanks."

This was followed by a large spoon being thrown at her. Instinctively she ducked it's path, and watched it clang on the floor. The cook looked at her with a red face and anger in his eyes, if Renae closed her eyes she could picture steam coming out of his ears. She quickly went and took a seat next to Nathan, the ghoul she met the other night.

"Do they really expect us to eat this garbage?" she said aloud.

Nathan snorted "Better then starving"
staring at his bowl for a moment he saw an eyeball looking back at him. rubbing his eyes with his free hand Nathan looked back at the bowl, the eyeball was gone
"I think."
with the noise of the canteen at shouting volume Nathan felt it safe to talk about escape. "I think I may have found something to make a distraction with, also I saw the kitchen was low on food, there should be something coming in soon unless Saint wants his workers eating each other." It would take being right next to Nathan right now to hear any of the conversation

"That's good, we'll have to be ready for when they get a new shipment of food then. I think I've found a way out of the prison once they lock it. The sheet metal roof doesn't look too sturdy, so all we need to do is jump up to the rafters and take a sheet off. I'm not sure what we can do after that though," Ren said in a hushed tone.

Ren looked the slop one last time. She took her spoon and picked up a small amount. Closing her eyes, she put the mystery food in her mouth. As she expected it was horrible, and it took a lot of concentration to choke it down.

That's really bad, she thought to herself.

Grumpy about being called a mutt Saracen Saul followed the crowd to breakfast.
Saracan Saul took his food without making eye contact with the Spartan lunch lady. He went and found a seat near the slaves who were busily chit chatting. They seemed to be openly discussing their escape. He listened to the few words he managed to catch with amusemant.

He would have listened more carefully or told them how idiotic they seemed to him but he was extremely hungry. He chewed noisily and snatched the scraps left by the fed slavers and ate those too. Then he waited for Saint to show up for a demoralizing speech.

"You'll never make it out of this place. These Spartans are proffesional mancatchers. Dogs, barbed wire, Mez guns...thats just the first line of defense. If they catch you beyond that...let's just say you will still be used for entertainment but much worse than playing some silly games." Saracen Saul addressed the plotting slaves.

Mark was rudely awakened by a slaver banging the jailbars with a Lead Pipe. Mark then walked over to the canteen and was given a bowl of soup for breakfast. Mark took one taste and said, "Damn, this stuff is nasty, Floridian water isn't this bad." Det took one taste from his bowl and promply spat it back up. Mark said, "Eat it, you'll need your strength." The duo then grudgingly ate the soup, Mark thinking, "I hope we'll get out of this alive." He then took notice of the guy who had just come in and was staring at everyone else with contempt and thought, "Like I said earlier, for the moment, escape is futile."

"You seem to agree. I can see it in your eyes...your resigned to this more than your friends." Saracen Saul spoke directly to the dark skinned man. He only glanced at Saracen Saul and didn't seem to want to talk to him.

"If I win these games I will become one of the Spartans. That's how I got in this mess...killed a slave who was escaping. It was an accident of course but that word isn't in Saint's vocabulary." He kept talking as the slaves fell silent. The presence of a Slaver had made them all drop the topic of escape.

"Besides, your plans aren't gonna work. I didn't hear all you said but I know none of you have any idea what your up against or you wouldn't bother." Saracen Saul smiled but the expression only made the slaves despise him in return. At least that is what he thought. Loathing was a constant emotion in his blackened Slaver heart.

Mark said, "Well, if you know so much about these guys, why don't you enlighten us as to what and whom we're dealing with?" Mark didn't care for how he'd treated the others, but he knew he'd need all the information he could get.

Aerts awoke to clanking and clunking. Sleep was particularly futile. With such a rush of emotions it seemed impossible to do so. The little sleep he got would be worth it though. Finally there would be food. This is what Eddie was waiting for when he got here. A bit odd he thought but hell, might as well die on a full stomach.

He came up to the canteen and recieved his food willingly. It looked like some mix and match mash...soup even? Eddie reluctantly thanked the 'chef' who merely smirked as he walked over to a near by table. Any consumable material was a god send for Aerts. He could only remember trying to eat away at the muscle and intestines of a rotting dog corspe. This was nothing...

He notcied three people already there. One was Mark and the others were unidentifiable. As he sat down and began to eat. The coarse and bitter sludge tantilized his taste buds in all of the wrong ways. He didn't care though. Nothing had taste anymore.

He noticed one talking. Appeared that he once was a slaver by his posture and tone. Aerts overheard the man talking about how plans were escape were pointless. He agreed. At this point he'd have to earn his way out. Aerts decided to chime in. The man appeared to have the confidence and knowledge. Might as well get to know him. He talked to the alleged slaver.

"Trust me...maybe it's a good idea that we don't know what's to happen. The name's Eddie Aerts. You look like you don't belong on this end of the stick man."

"I am a Slaver. Name is Saracen. Saracen Saul. Saint just has a sick sense of humor. But back to what I was telling..." Saracen Saul gestured toward the man who had asked him what he knew.

"Mark." Mark told Saracen Saul his name in exchange for a piece of his slaver lore.

"Well what I know is that the Spartans define how other slavers operate." Saracen Saul paused momentarily after saying this so that it seemed he was done talking. Then he continued:

"They come from the Southwest Commonwealth where they either competed with or splintered from Caesar's Legion. When I was still an upstart Slaver I heard numerous rumors to their origins. The one I like to believe is that the Spartans were formed by Caesar's lieutenant Vexillarius Terrance during a war with NCR." Saracen Saul gave the slaves a little history lesson. He paused again and then added some more:

"The Spartans were Slavers armed for bear...literally speaking of course. They took the fight back to the NCR's Rangers and managed to garner a ceasefire. Most of this was done with guerrilla warfare and earned them such a nasty reputation that the Legion gradually became disassociated with their 'secret warriors'." Saracen Saul chuckled as his 'class' absorbed his campfire story.

"But back to the facts we all know: they take slaves from other slavers. They do catch them themselves but most of you probably have a wide variety of descriptions for how you were captured. That is because they tax other slavers for goods. Your the goods. What they do with you is book you in sporting events where they make a fortune selling seats and trophies."

"Trophies?" One of the girls interrupted Saracen Saul with a question. He had a momentary lapse in character and decided not to tell her what he meant by trophies. She had been through enough already and besides, he didn't want to see her throw up her breakfast. She had a hard enough time getting it down the first time. And Saint insisted everyone finish their food...

Mark thought, "I've heard of the NCR, but these guys appear to be just as powerful, if they were able to get slaves from this far away over here to Nevada." He then said, "I've heard of slaving operations in the Pitt, but this seems like two steps up in organization." Mark then finished the rest of his "meal", and waited to learn about team placements.

"I have never been to the Pitt." Saracen Saul remorsed. "But I intend to visit there someday...when I am a Spartan...you know, as a tourist. See how they do things out that way."

"Getting acquainted?" The same big mean Spartan that had been ribbing Saracen Saul since the beginning walked over.

"Sure." Saracen Saul growled.

"Good dog." The Spartan pointed at the empty dishes. "You get those."

"Yeah." Saracen Saul tried to conceal his anger at being treated like a slave. He noted the Spartan, Biggus Diqqus as he was called, still had the sharpened spear Saint had given Saracen Saul in exchange for all of his Slaver gear. That's my spear...

"All of them..." Biggus Diqqus snorted. "I heard your history of the Spartans part one. You aint no scholar."

Saracen collected dishes from Mark, the girl, the other guy who had talked to him and the rest of the slaves.

"You know where they go. Move it." Biggus Diqqus followed his pet project to the kitchen while he carried the dishes.

Somehow Ren had finished most of her 'meal'. As Saul took her dish she sat wondering what he meant by trophies.

What an odd person. A slaver turned slave, her thoughts paused for a moment, I'll bet he knows a way out. I'll just have to see if I can get him to tell me.

She was becoming more anxious as time went on. The games were getting closer.

Nathan watched his nearly untouched bowl and the man disappear into the swinging door of the kitchen, Nathan did not mourn either of their passing.
"we'd best avoid him, guy's chasing his old status." Nathan chuckled at the irony "He wouldn't think twice about betraying us to get back in his bosses favor."

Mark watched the man leave and said to Nathan, "You're probably right, but he does have valuable information, and we'll need all the intel we can get if wwe want to get out of here."

Alice saw the man pick up the dishes and walk off with them, obviously hassled by the Spartan with the spear. He was among a small group of other slaves, a group whom she had seen together whenever possible. Something's up with them. she thought. Getting up she went into the yard with the rest of the slaves to hear Saint's speech, no doubt he'll be organising the teams for the entertainment of the locals and Slavers.

Out in the compound, she waited among the other slaves, waiting for Saint to emerge onto the the podium.After about ten minutes of waiting, the man of the hour made his appearance, flanked by two Spartans as usual.
"Good morning, Slaves of Spartan Corporation! I hope you enjoyed your accomodations and breakfast, yes?" he gave a wry smile before continuing. "Today, you will all be sorted into your teams and then we'll be on our way." With that, three Slavers walked into the crowd, each randomly grabbing one person and hoisting them up to the podium. They grabbed the ghoul, a man she heard being called Mark and the other woman she had seen with them two.
"Standing in front of you is Team One." He announced, then turned to face the three slaves. "Head to the side, please, and I beg of you not to run, we need you for entertainment."

The Spartans went to grab the next team. She felt an tight grip on her upper arm and in a matter of seconds found herself standing on the podium with Sean and that crazy woman, Charlette was her name. "Here is Team Two." Saint told the crowd. He say any more after that, he just let them get shoved off to the side by his goons.

Saint didn't bother bringing up the last three; a rugged-looking man, the man that seemed detached from everyone, but whom the Slavers seem to know and a man with dirty blonde hair and a large scar on his face. Saint pointed at the remaining slaves. "These men are Team Three."
"You're first match against each other will take place in the Grand Canyon. We will be following the Colorado River to the canyon, think of it as a test of your endurance." he said grinning from ear to ear."
"Each team will be placed in a part of the canyon that has been sectioned off by a cave-in; one team in the middle of this area and two at either end. You will be competing to try obtain five white flags, the team with the most after all are collected is the winner. We will be keeping an eye on you, so don't try to escape. You are allowed to attack the other teams, and watch out for the Radscorpions and Ghouls."

Saint clasped his hands together. "Now, let's get some more food in ya before we set off!"

Charlette stood on the stage, shivering. All eyes were on her team, Two women? She could hear them whispering. That's not fair!
She looked to her side and was releived to see Alice there. She and Alice had become fast freinds, and Alice had promised to take care of her. "It's going to be alright, isn't it?" Charlette asked desperately, a look of complete fear plastered over her filthy face. Alice didn't reply. her forehead was furrowed, she was in deep thought. "Alice?" Asked the man with them. "You Ok?"Alice put her finger to her mouth. She was planning something. Something great.

Mark thought, "I was hoping Tom would've been with us, but at least I have Nathan." He then said to the rest of his team, "So it appears we're working together this time, huh Nathan." Mark's mind then turned towards everyone else. He hoped that he wouldn't have to shoot at the friends he had, or anyone else for that matter, since they were all in this together.

Saracen Saul jogged a pace to catch up to the other two members of team three.

"Hey." He was then walking between them. Everyone was headed back to the mess hall for more food before departure. Team three had ended up walking drogue.

"What?" The big guy asked.

"Name is Saracen Saul. We seem to be the bruiser team." He considered.

"Eddie." The big guy seemed not to care that he had been teamed with a ex slaver. Saracen Saul trusted him a little more than the guy with scars who seemed more like a 'dudley do right' than Eddie did. To Saracen Saul the rugged man, Eddie, seemed like more of an adventurer.

The other guy said nothing but stared Saracen Saul down.

"We will be expected to be the bully team out there. Saint likes things to go according to his plan. One team moves fast and gets the flags. That would be the second one I guess. The women will probably stay out of our way and get a flag or two. We end up having to take flags away adding some action to the game." Saracen Saul predicted.

The other member of team three, a silent and scar faced guy had the vibe of a 'good guy'. Saracen figured he wouldn't be very useful if he was pitted against his little slave buddies. He just seemed to ignore the ex slaver.

Sean sighed in relief, One, because Alice was with him. Two, because it wasn't a team deathmatch.
Sean walked with Alice and a girl he believed was called Charlette. Great, the crazy girl. No, he shouldn't be so judgemental, she would listen to us.

Sean answered her question, "Maybe, just listen to us and get down when we say yeah? We're trained so trust us. You'll be fine."
She noticed her staring at Alice. Alice was deep in thought, she had a plan.
Sean rolled his eyes, "Well then, spill the beans Alice. You were always one for plans."

When back in the canteen with the other slaves, preparing for their long journey down the Colorado River to the Grand Canyon, Alice finally told her team the plan.
"Okay, so it's common knowledge everyone wants to get out of here, right? I was thinking, if we play along for a while and get some of our equipment back we could bust out of here. I say that we see how much man power is left behind at the jail house while the rest oversee the games with Saint. If it's only a skeleton crew, we can use whatever equipment that we've won back to bust out the rest of our stuff and run for it.. Or we could take out Saint."

She notice that Charlette and Sean had a speculative look on their face, as if assessing her plan for escape. She took the opportunity of her team not asking questions to look around at the other teams. They were mostly seated together, probably planning escape like them. Some of them were trying to acquaint themselves with their teammates better, by the looks of things. She returned her attention back to her Mole Rat soup, a rather unappetising dish but better than nothing.

She looked back to Charlette and Sean. "So, what do you think?"

Sean really liked her idea, he nodded, "Not bad Alice not bad at all... As for escaping or taking out Saint. I say we should take Saint down as well as the rest of the Slavers. We can't leave these people to die here in these sick games. Anyway they're always looking for more slaves, we can end this. I have an idea, if we make the escape I'll set some mines around the place to kill the guards overlooking. But should we take Saint out first? Or make him wait until he's the last one we kill?"
Sean looked at Alice and then to Charlette. She better be up for this...

The teams were set. Aerts seemed relieved that the games weren't that of some Roman Gladiator. However the dangers did come with the terrain and beasts that called them home. From the looks of it he was teamed up with the hardened ex slaver, Saul, and the rough looking Tom Miler, who he hadn't really had a chance to interact with. It seemed like a great team of tough and burly men. Hopefully, Eddie thought, he could pull his load.

They walked together and discussed the matters at hand. It seemed that Miller was a bit tentative to whether he'd want to hurt his friends. Aerts figured that this would be to his advantage. He didn't know anyone...no friends or anything. He wouldn't have the emotional toll as others might. More importantly though, Aerts had to gain their trust. He was a mere adventurer, not as hardened as these boys. Might as well start now.

"Well guys you did hear about those ghouls and scorps we got to conflict with. I've encountered a beast many a time. Been trained as a hunter all my life. I figure that perhaps only one or two of us will be carrying a weapon as part of the 'catch'. I would be more than happy to oblige with my rifle."

Alice could see where Sean was looking, he was seeing Charlette's reaction to this, seeing if she wanted to be part of this. She then returned her attention to Sean.
"We should leave Saint until last. Either way we'll need to go through his goons whether we're liberating our weapons or taking him out. I'd rather if he didn't have backup, it would make my life easier." she finished off her Mole Rat soup and dropped the spoon into the bowl. She got up to put it give it back to cook but turned to her teammates. "Oh, and by the way, I get first picks of the loot when we bust these Slavers." she said winking, before walking away.

When she left her bowl back she let out a deep breath. Damn, I've never worked very well in teams before, let alone protect someone who can't defend herself. Besides the team coordination she had other problems to worry about; breaking out. I can't coordinate this, surely there are more ambitious people than just me who'd like to lead this.

(OOC: Little bit of character control there? The personality works for him being silent the entire time. Try to not do that)

Tom had gotten to bed shortly before the Spartans woke him once again. He hung off to the side, waiting for what would happen next. Eventually, he set to the slop they put in front of him before starting to watch the slavers. After carefully watching for quite a while, and drawing comments from those who grew uncomfortable under his stare. Eventually, Tom deceided he could take most of them in a fair fight, but they were armed with weapons. Tom's hand-to-hand skills wouldn't match up to bullets. As he plotted a way to take out the guards individually, they deceided on teams. Tom watched as Nathan, Mark, and the girl from before were picked for Team One. He cursed and looked at his other options. Eventually, Tom was paired with the ex-slaver, and the man he had seen before talking to Mark. He cursed once more and followed the rest of his team. Tom felt regret for not being on the same team as Mark, but he put it away. He'd play their games with his team, and hopefully they'd all make it out alive. With a backwards thought, he realized that his team had the best chance. Although Tom didn't feel comfortable having a slaver on his team, he figured himself and the other member of Team Three could take him if he tried anything.

'Speaking of which..' Tom thought, coming up alongside Aherts. "I'm Tom." he said, maintaining his stride. That was the most he really offered for an introduction.