thecapitol | This isn't what I signed up for [OPEN]

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This isn't what I signed up for [OPEN]

Who| Cassius Jones and you! Yes, you
What| With the blackout and ensuing chaos, it's time for Cassius to actually do his job: keep the peace
Where| All over the Capitol
When| Shortly after the Blackout
Warnings/Notes| Potential death and violence. Will edit when anything pops up

"Son of a bitch!"

Cassius mutters under his breath, his curses muffled by his helmet, as he marches through the darkened streets of the Capitol. He's decked head to toe in heavy white armor, a pistol in his hand and a baton at his side, but that's the heaviest weaponry he has on hand now; the blackout caught everyone off guard and, well, it isn't as if he needs a machine gun during his usual shift, does he?

He hopes that he won't need anything else now. He hopes that he won't need any of this. But he's not optimistic. As he marches towards headquarters, he keeps an eye out for chaos and destruction, in case he needs to intervene more immediately.

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Well, she's not being actively attacked, but it looks like someone may need some help.

Justine's usual white dress is now splashed dark red, with little purple spots around the sleeve. It's ripped, especially around her torso where most of the cuts are. She is unsteady on her feet, her eyes looking upward at the buildings, at her surroundings, as if they're not quite taking everything in and she hasn't quite noticed that she could possibly be bleeding out. It looks like she's in shock.

The staggering gait catches his eye immediately, and when he turns to face her properly, he finally recognizes her for who she is. Cassius' eyes go wide behind his helmet and he curses under his breath, before he rushes towards her.

"Justine?"

He keeps his voice firm, but calm, as much to steady himself as to steady her. If he speaks like this, he's a Peacekeeper. If he lets his voice falter, if only for a moment, then he's just another scared man, hiding inside a plastic shell.

"Come on, Justine, I've got you."

He checks over her shoulder to make sure that no one is following her, and holds one arm out to steady her. The other one hovers over his holster just in case they have any lingering guests.

"Cassius?"

She recognizes the voice. She wants to laugh. Laugh in his face, laugh at his concern, laugh at all the blood on her, covering her completely like it did when she watched her father twitch and convulse and die on the floor.

Instead, she just takes his arm and collapses against him, lowering her head so he can't see her face, her shoulders shaking in what could be misconstrued as fear or tears when in reality it was just her silent laughter.

"He's not coming. I might have killed him. I don't know. He killed my patient to get to me."

He was alive when she left, but not in particularly good condition.

God, so much for their revolt! Going after citizens isn't enough, no, they have to go after each other, too! But her patient isn't his concern. There's nothing he can do for a dead man; meanwhile, Justine still lives, still breathes, and can still be saved.

"Couldn't think of anyone who deserves it more," he mutters bitterly as he guides her down the street. "Come on, let's get you out of here - we'll have you looked at and patched up in no time."

He hopes. He's not exactly a medical expert here.

"I might have killed him, Cassius. They'll take my tongue for this!" Her voice cracks, but not in panic. In her strain to keep her mad laughter from breaking out, though it could be easily misconstrued.

They won't take her tongue. Eridan didn't even have the advantage of looking like a human in his favor. Even if he died, and even if it was clearly intentional, the worst she would get would be a slap on the wrist.

But she's supposed to be scared. Scared people always overestimate the danger, she's noticed.

"My parents died for people like them."

"No! No, no, there will be no tongue...cutting... out for this!"

Avoxing, Cassius. The proper term is avoxing. He doesn't let the slip in vocabulary stop him, though. Cassius takes a deep breath and continues, forcing his tone to turn softer.

"Look, it was self defense, right? Not murder, self defense. And nobody's going to punish a citizen for defending themselves against a tribute, alright? It was life or death, you or him - no one in their right mind is going to hold that against you."

She should burst to tears. The trouble is, it's very hard to cry on demand, especially when you're on the edge of laughing. Instead, she holds onto him tighter, keeping her face hidden, and forces her eyes to stay open until they sting and begin to water. Close enough to crying on demand.

"He was just a teenager, and he was killed just like that, Cassius. He put himself in front of me, and then that troll just stabbed him. There was blood everywhere, he's dead because of me--"

He brushes against her side, right over one of her stab wounds. She flinches away from him, hissing and holding it protectively, her knees getting weak. That is a real reaction. She might be more hurt than she thought she was.

He flinches when Justine hisses, his eyes darting down to her wound. Cassius can barely see it in the dark, but he can see enough for his concern to upgrade itself into genuine, solid fear. They have to do something about this quick before she bleeds out onto the streets.

"Here-"

He shifts his arm to support her without pressing into a gaping wound, but thinks better of it. A second later he stoops to grab the hem of her dress while the other presses against one of the cuts in the skirt.

"Sorry about this, love, I really am."

And in one swift movent, he pulls his hand away, ripping off a length of cloth. Goodbye fashion, hello makeshift bandage!

She knows what he's going to do the moment he bends over. Normally, she would give at least a little wince for the loss of something so pretty, but...

"It wasn't salvageable anyway." And really, the loss of a dress is worth the excitement of tonight. She raises her elbows, wincing as they become perpendicular to her torso, her wounds forbidding her from trying to raise them much higher. "Just around the ribs. I need a hospital. I don't even need a doctor. I just need a hospital."

There's too much blood everywhere. It cuts a striking image, but it's alarming nonetheless.

While she speaks, he rips off another, smaller scrap of fabric, and presses it against the wound immediately. He'll bandage it up proper in a moment, but first he wants to see if he can get some of the bleeding down. This is how you're supposed to treat a wound like this, isn't it?

"A doctor would be a nice little extra, though." He adjusts the angle of the cloth, pressing hard again, and asks, "Did he get you anywhere else?"

He figures he should ask now instead of learning the hard way later on.

She hisses softly when he touches the wound. There's already a hastily applied compression bandage on it beneath her clothes, but it's already bled through and the bandage has become loose with all the running around.

"I don't know. It happened so fast." That much is true. When in the middle of a fight for one's life, stabs feel a lot like punches. She doesn't quite know what was a punch and what was a knife sinking into her.

Curiously, the shallow scratches sting the most. More nerves closer to the surface of the skin, her brain immediately supplies.

The hiss makes him wince, but he tells himself it's a good sign. Pain means that everything's working the way it should. Right? Right.

"Well, then let's take a look..."

He decides that now's as good a time as any to tie the bandage; after all, he might need his hands free in a moment. While he takes care of that, he glances over her body, searching for anything deeper. He ignores the lighter scratches, worrisome as they are; they're not mortal, and as such, are something she'll just have to suffer through for the time being.

She has a few wounds that look like stabs, but the one that he bandaged was the deepest. She grasps at his sleeve, then his wrist, pressing her thumb against the inside of his wrist. It could be construed as a frightened woman grasping at comfort while she bleeds all over the street. That's the goal. The more vulnerable she seems, the better about himself he'll feel when he saves her. Touching only cements the personal nature of it, and make him more likely to feel attached to her afterwards.

"Where are we? I wasn't paying attention to the signs, and... where's the nearest hospital?"

Okay, this? This is far beyond what little first aid knowledge he's gleaned over the years. Right now the best answer is to get her to the hospital, and quick, instead of dicking around out here.

"Not too far off," he says quickly. He does his best to support her, and says, "Just a few streets down...just hold onto me, alright?"

"Okay... okay, just hold onto you."

She drapes one arm on his shoulder and walks with him, blinking at how her blood was starting to spot his uniform.

"I'm sorry. I'm bleeding all over your clothes."

She isn't sorry, but she is beginning to feel rather detached from the situation. Probably the blood loss. It also seems the sort of thing a victim would say in this situation.

Despite himself, he laughs. The laugh is brief, breathless, and hollow, but it's a laugh nonetheless. Here she is, hurting, bleeding, and possibly dying, but she's still taking the time to apologize for the mess.

"Don't worry about that," he says quickly. "These are government issue, see? Nothing that came out of my own pocket."

Cas continues to move, doing his best to balance speed with caution, while scanning the street and darkened cityscape for signs of the hospital. He thinks he sees it, just a little ways off in the distance, but he can't be too certain.

"Oh. Then I rescind my apology. The Capitol can pay for it, after letting all this happen."

It's interesting to watch, her own blood. Drip-dripping onto his uniform, spreading onto the white cloth of her dress.

She looks up as they approach the hospital, giving a soft sigh of relief. "Fantastic. I can fix myself in there."

Cas' heart skips a beat, elated that they're finally here, but he sobers up immediately. They're at the hospital, yes, but they aren't done yet. He continues to support her as he forces the door open, still ready to follow and give his support (and protection) as needed.

"And is there anything I should be doing? 'Sides keeping an eye out, I mean."

Cal had been torn on what to do when the blackout came. Quite honestly, she was shocked. She'd not heard from Eva since she smashed her living room window, and held a gun out to her. Funnily enough, Eva hadn't bothered to rekindle the friendship.

But Eva had been Cal's mentor, her best friend, her support for a long time, and it saddened her to think of Eva as dead. On the other hand, what she died for was what Cal had been too scared to fight. And that made Cal feel wormish.

In the dark, Cal stole out of the Tribute centre. For once, her outfit didn't sparkle. She wore plain black, and twisted her flame coloured hair beneath a hat to hide it. And she headed for the big Capitol buildings.

When she spots Cassius, Calico is smashing windows at a nearby school, lobbing rocks, and quite carried away with herself, whoops as she hits glass.

Oh goddamnit. He hears the glass shatter and turns his head immediately, gritting his teeth. Is this looter or your garden variety vandal? Either way, he doesn't have time for this. For a brief moment he's tempted to just ignore it completely, but he knows better; he knows that it could be someone far dangerous.

Not wanting to take that chance, he steps forward, marching towards the figure in the distance. He hopes that the sight of a Peacekeeper will be enough to spook them and send them running, but if not... well, his hand hovers over his pistol, just in case they're looking for a fight.

Calico looks up as the footsteps come nearer, and she pauses, hand still raised to throw another rock at the window. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. They've already got her. May as well go out with a bang.

She looks deliberately at the Peacekeeper, before raising her hand and throwing the rock, hard, at the nearest un-broken window. There's a shriek from inside, and Calico cackles.

"Not with your buddies, eh? Good luck arresting me." She bends down and picks up another rock, weighing it in her hand. She looks back at the Peacekeeper.

"Now, are you going to clear off, or am I going to end up throwing this at you? It's your choice, love."

He stops in his tracks the moment he hears her voice. It's Calico. Of course it's Calico. A sensible person would have learned her lesson after a nice, lengthy exile, but apparently, all her sense fizzled out when Eva pulled the pug on the city. Lovely!

"Oh for the love of..."

He sighs, more tired and tense and exasperated than intimidated, and says, "Put the damn rock down, Cal, before you get yourself killed."

"What? You gonna arrest me again?" Calico cackles and drops her rock. "You're a fucking idiot, love, if you think I'd let that happen again. It's a riot. Let your hair down. Chuck a rock. Give in to your lusts for a bit."

The laugh puts him on edge, but her insult slides off her back. It's that last line, that single sentence, that finally makes him snap.

"Give in to- what the hell do you think this is?! A goddamn party?!"

He's shouting, he's screaming, but he doesn't care.

"Nothing more than a bit of fun, hmn? Is that what you think this is?!"

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This isn't what I signed up for [OPEN]

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