thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Everyone
What| Lockdown
Where| Tribute Training Center
When| Starting around dusk
Warnings/Notes| None atm. If your character tries anything extravagant, shoot the mods a pm.

Dusk was falling when it started.

Anyone in the District 12 suite's would have heard heavy sounds above them moments before a loud explosion rocked the entire building. The electricity flickers once, twice, then goes out, replaced by cool, blue glowing lights running along the ceilings. Avoxes appeared silently, as they do, herding people from one room to another.

Once the door shuts, it doesn't open again until the last person is there, sealed shut. The windows in the rooms with them were darkened, and the computer would not respond to any request to show anything. However, food could be called to the room, the trays appearing as they normally do. But the doors would not budge, and the cool blue lights stayed the only light source, the only power.

Although there was nothing to see, there was lots to hear. Banging, foot steps in the halls, on the floors above, explosions, straining metal collapsing, scraping down the side of the building. Occasionally the repetitive rapping of gun shots. Yelling. Screaming. Those near the top of the building could smell smoke, at times strongly. The elevator can be heard moving up and down, even though it doesn't respond to any calls from those trapped.

The sounds last into the late night, finally quieting around midnight. Finally, at 1 am, a calm, cool voice comes over the loud speakers.

"The rebellion forces have been repressed. We will be clearing the building for the next few hours. Please stay patient and sleep well."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Trying to get to his own room didn't happen. Neither did getting downstairs to get involved in whatever the fuck was going on. The elevator spit Riddick out into one of the conference rooms-- not somewhere he'd spent much time, really-- and the avoxes had shooed him inside. He had decided once the doors locked behind him that he'd probably better not do anything to draw attention to himself.

So, while casting the door a dirty look, he browsed on the food provided and paced restlessly, all the while thinking that the fucking rebellion ought to have at least given a heads up about this shit.

It wasn't long before the doors opened, another Tribute stumbling in.

The first thought R had was they were under attack - this was the Living's idea of quarantine and they were finally getting their act together. To his surprise, R didn't get a bullet to the head. Instead he was herded to one of the conference rooms, more or less shoved inside, and those mutes couldn't grunt at him like a zombie, but the intention was still the same: Stay.

At least he wasn't the only one here. R came closer, bumping into a chair here, stubbing a toe there and not registering it. He gazed up at the blue emergency lights, then eventually turned his attention back to the man checking out the food.

"Others?" R gurgled out, trying to get some answers here. This guy was even balder than M, and looked like he could benchpress him too. "Rebel...s?"

Riddick had seen this guy around. He'd mostly kind of avoided him, to be honest, because anybody who screamed "dead but still walking" was not something he wanted to deal with. And oh look, now he's stuck with him. Great. He rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, everpresent despite the hour, and popped a fried butterball thing into his mouth.

"Maybe," he answered around the mouthful. "Can't think of what else'd be makin' a shit-fit like that outside."

R peered at the sunglasses, wondering why he was wearing them. Maybe it was another one of those Capitol fashion-statement things. "Not worried?"

He didn't look worried. The other guy looked casually, like it was no big deal there were explosions or the idea of people busting in with guns.

"Nope." Riddick shrugged his big shoulders. "We kill people, remember? Some of us more than others. I think we'll be fine if somebody busts down those doors."

Well, all right, maybe he would be fine. And probably dead guy here, since dead guy was, y'know, already dead. He did add, "Don't think anybody's gonna, though. We're celebrities, not legit targets."

R wasn't comfortable with that. Sure, he'd murdered more people than he could remember, but it hadn't ever been for entertainment - or even self-defense, come to think of it. Food was food. R shot the Tribute a lost kind of stare, like this was a whole new world here and he was struggling to follow along like the rest of the class.

"Then..." R worked to follow with Big's train of thought. "...who are? Legit?"

All right, so the dead guy was actually a little cute when he looked at him like that. In a rotting-and-blank-lost-dog kind of way. Riddick always was a bit fond of predators.

So he smirked at him. "Probably somebody who don't like the Games and wanna see us all set free to do whatever. Or just somebody who don't like the capitol fuckers and think attackin' here will get 'em some leverage. They'll be wrong, of course."

Big smirked at him. It was the kind of smirk that somehow made R feel like he was the prey here and not the other way around.

"Don't want...escape?" R was surprised. Most of the people he'd talked to here, the other Tributes, seemed like they didn't want to be here. This guy struck him as looking for an excuse to kick some ass.

Riddick shrugged, body language relaxed and relatively closed off, but his brows were up near where his hairline would be, if he had hair. "Not too fond of bein' made to do shit I didn't sign up for. But could be worse, I guess."

There were cameras everywhere in here, he knew that much. He couldn't exactly say how he really felt-- or what he really knew-- anywhere in this building. Especially not with peacekeepers everywhere, on the other side of those doors.

"What about you? You wanna get outa here? Go do whatever. Uh. Dead kids do?"

"Could be worse" was something R was intimately familiar with. Story of his un-life. Story of every Dead, basically. At least that was something he could agree with Big on, R giving a hunch of his shoulders and a bob of his head.

"Find...ways. Keep busy," R said, rasping. He eyed Big. "Wouldn't mind...out."

He waved a hand limply. Who wouldn't?

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