Victory Tour!

[etcircenses]

Most of you weren't around the last time District tours were allowed. The opulence of the train is just as great however. It is plush, full of the same comforts and pleasures as the Capitol. Dining, entertainment centers, and shared rooms for the Tributes, the bunk beds featuring the finest of fabrics. The wide windows all around the train give way to the stunning views of the District countrysides.

Before the quell, it used to be that only the Victors of the arena would behold such sights, but you Tributes, the survivors of the fifteenth arena of the seventy fifth quarter quell are very lucky indeed. It will be a greater pageant than ever before, with so many Tributes getting the chance to speak to the Districts their children were reaped from, where you stand and the children stand no longer. The honor, duty, and sacrifice a Tribute's life involves cannot be understated.

Staff and Mentors are, of course, brought along for the ride. You'll need them for when you are to give your speech to the Districts! There will be a lot of preparation work involved, but maybe, should you do well, you will be afforded some time to travel between the cars and visit those of other Districts.

As always, the tour will be starting in District twelve, which will take just over forty eight hours to reach. There's no need to feel unsafe. There's an overwhelming number of Peacekeepers on board, here to keep you all safe, as will there be in each of the Districts you visit.

Sleep tight.

Comments

Part One - Mingle

[etcircenses]

For D6

[quiethumerus]

Dressing to represent four is meant to be exagerative. It's about condensing the District into a unit full only of heroism and beautyf and wonder. It is blues and bright colors, interserped with the occasional green, indigo, and straw yellow. Everything is meant to glitter and shine so as to best capture Capitol hearts.

Dressing to visit District four is very different. It does not mean for any sort of drabness, but he knows the people of four and knows what they better respond to. Or, well, he used to. There is less work to do and still somehow more. He goes to each member of District four and he fusses over them, one way or another.

He looks inquisitive, pulling out the same question each time: HATH THEE MADE OF PROPER PREPARATION AS YET FOR THOSE ONCE REPRESENTED TO STAND AS SPECTATOR TO THINE SPEECH?

for Clara Murphy

[inrestlessdreams]

It had been a while since the Arena wrapped up but there was no denying that James was living for someone else. He made sure that she knew he was still alive in those grueling weeks, leaving her notes written in mud or monster blood that read "I'M STILL HERE".

Time to face the facts: he was falling for her, he was conflicted about it and it seemed like he wasn't alone in this sentiment.

He knocked on her suite, having made the dizzying walk from District 3 to District 10 on a moving train.

"Hello? Can we talk?" Smooth.

[seestheman]

The Arena had been a hectic period for her, between interviews about how she felt about the Gamemakers not choosing to bring back one of her Tributes and the rest of her girls doing fairly well (despite their eventual losses). Despite all those things, she kept trying to keep an eye out for James without being too obvious of her affections for him.

She didn't want to admit to herself how deep those affections ran, he was also dealing with grief and at the end of the day she still loved Alex more than was probably healthy, considering he was dead. But at the same time, she knew and could sometimes acknowledge that there was a spark there.

Clara was in the common area for her District's car, clad in a pair of yoga pants and a sweater from an ad campaign she had done not long after her win. She looked up at James and smiled, despite herself. "Of course. Do you want to talk here, or we could go to my compartment?"

[inrestlessdreams]

"Uh, your compartment works...I'm not too sure I want people listening in," he admitted with a bit of redness tinting his pale face. He's been through the public media ringer and his particularly gruesome death at the hands of a fellow Tribute still stuck to his head.

In fact, part of the reason he was here was to check up on Clara as soon as he was back. When he found her busying herself as mentor, he quietly stepped aside and let her work in peace. There was something between them and it...it was welcomed and terrifying at the same time. It was the familiar warmth of fire in the desolate emotional winter Sunderland had imposed on himself.

"I see you're uh," James looked at her and immediately raised his eyesight to the ceiling. "You're okay, I didn't want to bother you in the last week o-of the Arena."

For Rick and Vivi

[weaintashes]

Another arena and mandatory murder celebration had come and gone, but it seemed this time the farce was being stretched further. Now Tributes were like sacrificial rock stars, going on tour to sing the lies of the Capitol, to preach to the Districts about honour and duty and other such drivel, as though the deaths of those innocent children could ever be justified. Daryl could barely stomach the thought of it. He didn't know how he was going to be able to vomit forth the Capitol's script without getting arrested in the process for insubordination, and it cast a pall over his already tense mood.

At least he'd been permitted to take Charlie with him on the tour. With a leash hooked to his harness, Charlie walked beside him as he made his way through District 9's compartments and into District 7's to collect Vivi. Helping the mage onto Charlie's broad back where he could ride for fun, they headed down into District 3's compartments to meet up with Rick, whom he greeted with a kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth, by now a familiar gesture. With his small family all accounted for and together again, it eased Daryl's nerves somewhat, enough for him to suggest they help themselves to some grub, check out the entertainment, and just catch up with each other for a while.

They'd reach the first stop of the tour in a little less than two days, and it seemed they were allowed to spend their downtime as they saw fit until then.

As they made their way back through the train cars, he pocketed a deck of playing cards that didn't appear to belong to anybody, figuring they'd help pass the time later. When they finally located one of the dining cars, he wasted no time in filling a plate for himself (and Charlie) with a bit of everything, then claimed an empty table by sliding into one of the booth seats, with Charlie jumping up to sit beside him as though he belonged there. And he did, as far as Daryl was concerned.

He watched the scenery passing by through the window for several moments, turning his attention to Rick and Vivi once they joined him at the table. "What do you guys make of all this?" he asked, choosing his words with some care, as he always did when he knew the Capitol's eye was on them. "Might be nice to see all the different Districts. Lotta Peacekeepers around..."

That was something of an understatement.

[steepled]

Vivi lowered his head to adjust his hat when he sees Daryl leaning closer to Rick to do that thing that adults do to express how much they like each other. He didn't get why it was such a big deal for the reporters and gossip magazines to talk about such things. It was probably an adult thing he had yet to come to understand. (Zidane said he would tell him all about it but they never got around to doing that...not that he was dying to know anyway.) But, whatever. Rick and Daryl has been some of the nicest people he met since his arrival and they deserved to be happy.

"I've been wanting to see the Districts for a while," Vivi replied from his seat without looking away from the window. He even expressed that to his penpal before he was told that he wasn't allowed to, much to his initial disappointment. Learning that made him all the more earnest with writing his letters and making sure that Hemlock and the other children were okay. The guilt from the last arena was still eating him, because of the ink display he participated in. Nobody deserved what happened to them and Vivi had been quiet about the matter since. The Capitol intended to silence him and it worked (sans the tears he cried on his own). For the most part, he kept his emotions tight and was grateful for once that his expressions have been difficult to read (mostly).

"...I want to say sorry to the families."

A Tour Interrupted

[etcircenses]

For some, it's a long night. Walking about after hours might mean the only ones up are those in Peacekeeper cars, with the bright lights peaking through the door frame and muffled noise of televisions guiding the way. Whatever they're watching doesn't sound good.

You may have noticed, passing certain landmarks, graffiti gone in a blink of an eye. But it was there. You saw it. They may be words you said, or heard, something taken out of its original context and made into a statement of what may very well be... actual rebellion.

There is unrest among the Peacekeepers. They pace the train and look over everything.

The dawn has not yet broken, though the light is coming soon and bringing the vibrant red-orange colors of the sky. It's either beautiful or ominous, depending entirely on your outlook. Is that a bird on the hori--

The train jerks, the sound of breaks screaming can be heard all over. Objects are sent flying in all directions and people too. The chaos caused is great, but thankfully, it would seem the train stays on its track. The problem is, it isn't the only thing on the track according to Peacekeeper observed monitors.A troop is sent out to investigate.

And within minutes, a raid begins.

They come from the woods, dressed in camouflage and wearing cloths over their faces, hiding identities. Any weapons are makeshift, usually blunt, but sometimes incendiary in the form of molotov cocktails. Cars burn, windows are smashed, doors broken. They fight their way in, even against the quick mowing down the Peacekeepers guns preform and the flames they create. Tributes are grabbed and dragged, willing or not, back to the woods... where hovercrafts wait, letting out not more Districters, but a number of offworlders long since escaped to District 13. Presumably, they're here to help, bearing all manner of weapon save, that is, for guns as the Peacekeepers have.

It doesn't take long for Peacekeepers to work it out. All of them return to the train, grabbing as many Tributes as they still can. Everyone is brought to the back end of the train which apparently functions with alternate engine and more. Breaking off from the rest of the cars takes the flip of a switch. The offworlders and remaining staff are crammed into just three cars that pull away from friends and loved ones, leaving the stuck in the flaming cars that hail the brightening dawn or taken by rebels off to a place that isn't supposed to exist.

for Albert Heinrich

[voiceinthephone]

The Odds were never in our favor Words that flashed along the side of the train but Phone Guy saw them. How accurate.

Phillip was resting in his room, with not one but two fox kits at its feet, when he felt the sudden stop of the train. Vehicles like these made Alby, Jeremy's pet, anxious so Gray offered to let the little brat to stay with an older "sibling" so to speak until they got to District 12. Something about it didn't seem right and more so when Foxy began to growl at the windows. "Steady boy..." he whispered as he grabbed the nearest coat and placed the white fox in his inside pocket.

It's in that moment that the first window breaks that Phil realized what this was: a raid. Phil's first instinct isn't to run for cover, it's to grab his loyal pet, put him into the other pocket and check on his Tributes and those he cares about. Sansa, Luna, Karkat, Firo in D8, Sandy in 12, Jeremy's in 1... Gray isn't getting off the train until he knows these people are safe. What he doesn't expect is to see a ghost from his first Arena.

[silberfuchs]

It's easiest to climb on the train between the cars. Albert had seen some go vaulting into windows or scrambling up onto the roof in an overexcited attempt at swashbuckling, but the most direct way is always the easiest and he mumbles something about amateurs as he uses his metal elbow to knock the handle clean off the door and kick it out of the way, rifle at the ready in case he encounters any Peacekeepers. He can already hear the gunfire from the car behind him.

In this case, he's lucky. Instead of a car full of trained soldiers, he's met with a familiar astonished face. It takes Albert a moment to remember his name, a guilty moment considering how Venus had favored this man, but in the cyborg's defense he'd met him only once and was far more interested in saving Venus' life than pleasantries.

"Phillip," he finally blurts out a hint of bashful belatedness. "We're here to rescue you. Well, everyone. Come with me."

[voiceinthephone]

"Albert!" Phil doesn't mind the delay, he just feels elated that the man is actually safe and that meant that Venus and Sam and- "Is Jet all right? Thank God, I-"

Wait, what did he say? Rescue? They were rescuing them?

"O-Oh, oh crap, this is happening, isn't it?" He's going to the District that shouldn't exist and he's understandably spooked. Foxy bared his teeth, small but needle-like at the cyborg, prompting Phil to try and comfort the pets in his pockets, "F-Foxy, no, he's a friend." But to Albert, Gray looked up, "I need to find my tributes a-and my friends..." Things have changed since the last time they saw each other and the former guard was now a Mentor.

for Sam

[fusshionable]

It's been there, in her stomach, the whole train ride. A feeling of unrest, not subtle in the least, roiling in her stomach. For the first time in her entire life, Porrim neglects her dinner, instead staring out the window of Five's car from the dinner table, seeing for the first time the world outside of the Capitol, and finding that it all looks far more bleak than she'd pictured. Her mind had painted it over with shades of wonder and beauty, but something in the air has those images retreating in favor of dullness.

She's been tossing and turning in her bed all night when the train screams to a halt, and immediately Porrim feels her whole body turn hot with adrenaline. There's nobody in Panem who'd be attacking the train like this...nobody except rebels from Thirteen. This is her chance. It has to be. If she's lucky, Sam will be here. If she's not...she'll have to hope that someone can vouch for her. That someone will trust her. But she can't go back to the Capitol, because if she doesn't leave know she's pretty certain that she'll be stuck there forever.

Jolting awake, Porrim keeps an ear turned to the corridor, where she can hear screams, desperate shouts, yells and explosions and the sounds of struggle. She throws on the nearest clothes she can find, paying the least attention she's ever paid in her life to what she's wearing, and surges out the door--only to be confronted with a gaping hole in the side of the train. With only seconds to decide what she's going to do before she's either killed or dragged back inside or detained by a Peacekeeper, she lunges for a metal pipe that's dangling from the wreckage--the remains of a handhold from the outer train door--and wrests it away from its last remaining bolt, jumping out of the car and stumbling a little as she hoofs it down the side of the train.

It's utter chaos, and while she knows she should be looking out for her Tributes, she can't help but let her eyes skim over everything else, looking for one person in particular. And when she finds him, her blood turns cold--Sam is grappling with a Peacekeeper, and it doesn't seem to be turning in his favor, either.

It's stupid, and she knows it, to try and intervene with no training, but before she can even think, Porrim is running forward on impossibly tall shoes, raising the pipe up over her head, and committing the most rebellious act of her life by bringing the pipe down, hard, on the back of the Peacekeeper's head.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

This is the mission that Sam's been waiting for. He's got a number of friends back in the Capitol - Psiioniic, Nick, Aang, even Shepard - but there's two in particular that he's looking for, two that he promised he'd get out no matter what he had to do.

He's not banking on the fact that he's going to be able to get both Clint and Porrim off this train and back to District 13, because missions like this never go perfectly and Sam knows damn well that they're not going to be able to get everyone they're trying to save, but that isn't going to stop him from trying his damnedest.

He's fighting his way through, taking out Peacekeepers and keeping an eye out for his friends, but this one is proving especially hard to take down - and then there's suddenly someone coming to his aid, a pipe slamming into the back of his enemy's head.

The Peacekeeper drops down like a sack of bricks after that blow, but just in case that didn't do it, Sam snaps his knee up and stomps his foot out to a kick under the guy's chin, sending his helment bouncing off. Then he looks up at his rescuer, smile wide and face lit up.

"My knight in high heels," he teases, but he's clearly impressed, and he yanks her in for a hug before he can help himself. He'd like to linger, but he knows they don't have a lot of time, so he settles for taking her hand as he turns back towards the way he'd just fought through.

"Come on, there's no way in hell you're going back to the Capitol now."

[fusshionable]

If she's honest, Porrim is a little surprised at how easily the Peacekeeper goes down; she's not exactly weak, but she wasn't expecting her idiot maneuver to actually work.

But it does, and then there's just Sam, standing there with that grin on his face, and despite the fact that they're far from out of danger, she can't help the way her heart melts at his teasing. She hasn't seen his face in months, far too long, except for in his propaganda video and even then it wasn't quite the same. But now he's right here, in the flesh, and he's tugging her in for a hug that she returns without a second thought.

"Who else?" She murmurs into his shoulder, before letting him pull her away by the hand, back toward the forest. It's actually sort of impressive how well she manages to run in heels, fingers laced tight through Sam's, her other hand gripping her pipe still.

"Hell no," she crows happily. She wasn't delusional, this whole time, after all. She knew he'd come back for her, somehow. It's nice to be right for once.

OTA

[f0rthereaping]

She didn't come along to help with the rescue. She can't spare the care for the offworlders. She's not sure she would try to save them if she did. No, what Hannah comes along for is the raid. She comes along wreak havoc.

She wears cloth around her face to hide her identity. She doesn't want anyone recognizing her and getting in her way. And she gets to tear cloth up to make it.

The hovercrafts land. They wait. The train can be heard from miles off and the stirring of the Districters grows more restless. She's climbing out before the train even halts, vanishing within the woods. These trees aren't high like the ones of seven, but she can dart through the tops of them well enough until she reaches the edge. She has one job here and that's to incite chaos.

Finally thirteen is actually clueing in to what she's good for.

The cries sound out as the rebels rush in, bring guerilla weaponry of all kinds. With her sharpened throwing daggers and whip at her hip, she leaps from the trees and rushes in. Her knives sail, piercing what Peacekeepers aren't full armored. Districters fall around her under a rain of gunfire. She reaches the train's side and jumps up, climbing with ease.

It's from this vantage that she can catch the necks of her enemies with her whip and even drag them aside. How lucky for the rebel who just got saved. She would assure it wasn't her intention.

[wizardplease]

Maybe it wasn't her intention, but Haruto is grateful for the save. His attempt to rescue his 'rival' had completely failed, the Peacekeepers had started to rally, and he was fighting his way on back in preparation to pull out when in comes that whip and aside goes his opponent. There's a moment of surprise, then he looks on up and... is no less surprised, really.

"....good one!" But there's no time to gawk and marvel, not if they both want to live through this. He's right back to being a serious fighter, deflecting a Peacekeeper's blow, and turning the remaining motion into a snap-kick that throws him into another. "They're pushing back! Hurry up!" She's vulnerable up there. At least, that's how he's seeing it. If she needs a hand making a safe getaway, he's there to provide it. It has yet to occur to him that it might not be wanted or needed.

OTA

[quiethumerus]

Meulin has been great help for taking his mind off, the delightful creature leaving pleasant picture on his communicator. He's busied himself with his Tributes and has even blown time with concocting a new smoothie mix. But it's still some time before they reach District four. It's still some time before they reach twelve.

He stands over the sink, before the mirror. The reflection shows his image, dressed in something military inspired, something he's been trying to work himself up to for a long time. Will they recognize him? He imagines so. But will they recognize him as a Capitolite, a child, or as the son of a Peacekeeper.

Maybe he should re-do his stitches. He reaches to open that mirror cabinet when suddenly a shriek fills his ears and his whole world is lurching. He feels a pain in his arm and hears a loud shattering sound, something glimmering raining around him. Some of it is stained red.

His ears ring. He reaches up with bloodied fingertips, finding them still mobile but focusing less upon the shattered glass of the present as he does his stitched lips as came from the past. Dizzy and off balance, he stumbles from that bathroom, out into the open train. He watches in a daze as the first windows break. Fire-lit cloth comes in through the shattered window and he stares at it. More cries and shouts start up, mobilized Peacekeepers rushing past.

And then everything is fast again as doors open, people rush in or flee out, guns firing upon the crowd and blunt weapons being used in retaliation. He runs out from the train and stares, stunned, as a raid begins. His heart races, his eyes are wide. He finds, just there beside him, is a downed Peacekeeper. He pulls off the helmet and doesn't recognize the face, not sure if he's relieved or not. The Peacekeeper's gun has been abandoned. His hands curl around it.

[sociopathicwolf]

Derek's more than content with the thought of going home again, of seeing Herc - despite the drama that always comes up whenever Chuck and Herc are in the same general area - of potentially seeing his mom, assuming she's not off on business. He's spent most of the time on the train with Chuck, texting Meulin, letting Kurloz fuss over him, occasionally mingling with their Tributes, and it's nice, this little break from the Capitol.

Right up until the explosions start happening. Derek's first instinct is to protect, to make sure Chuck's safe, lunging to cover whoever's closest to him. And that doesn't change once people start rushing in and out, and he realizes what's happening here.

Derek and Chuck snapped into action, moving together to fight off the rebels, to try to gather up their staff and Tributes and herd them to safety. It becomes clear that's not going to be easy, though, with the way they've scattered in the chaos - and when Derek spots Kurloz outside he rests one hand on the small of Chuck's back, a silent signal that he'll be right back.

And then he follows after Kurloz, finding him standing next to a dead Peacekeeper with his hands curled around a gun. It's... not what Derek expected, at the same time as he isn't sure that it surprises him, but there will be time to look more closely into that when they're not under attack.

"Know how to shoot that?"

[occasio]

Phi is off the car not long after Kurloz. She keeps close to the edge, not willing to risk going out into open space and getting shot in the crossfire. At the same time, she can't stay on the train when more than half of the cars are on fire or being raided. She can see some of the occupants being dragged off towards the tree line by masked assailants, and it's not difficult to imagine someone picking her up and carting her off as well.

She sees Kurloz nearby, and judging by the way his wide eyes mimic hers, he's feeling just as shaken up as she is. She touches his arm to get his attention and offer a bit of support in her own way. It's probably the most contact that she's initiated herself since meeting him.

"Are you okay?" There's a gun in his hand, but the expression on his face reads to her like he's not certain about using it. But whether it's out of fear or the shock of the attack or something else entirely, she doesn't know.

For Kousuke Nitou

[wizardplease]

Action is Haruto's specialty, and he's been waiting for a chance to do something like this since he'd arrived in 13. He's in with the rest of the rebels, a sword in hand and hope in his heart. So much hope. He'd not just be seeing old friends again, but saving them.

At least, that's the plan. That's if he can get through the chaos and to the train. Bullets are already flying, and others who were in the first wave to hit the train are now heading back with their rescuees. It'll do more good if he fights and helps thin the opposition, as much as he hates to admit it. And if thinning the opposition is the delicate way to put 'killing peacekeepers'... he's okay with that.

If Nitou's watching from anywhere nearby, he might not recognize the guy with a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face and brown hair with dark roots coming in. That guy has just put wounds on several peacekeepers that don't look like they were intended to peacefully disable.

[infinitemayonnaise]

Nitou had been asleep when it happened, when all the fuss broke out. He'd fallen out of bed and landed on his travelling mayonnaise when the train shrieked to a halt. It's hard for him to do anything, what with the Peacekeepers on the train being a bit more awake and heavily armed than he is, but he wants to see what's happening outside, to try to figure out what's got everyone so upset.

He's there at a window of the train when he sees the guy with the scarf stabbing at the Peacekeepers. Well. That's new, and he hasn't realized who Scarf Dude actually is yet. He can only watch in some surprise, because stabbing Peacekeepers is a thing he can definitely get behind.

For Phi

[sociopathicwolf]

Derek had been reading when the train suddenly screeches to a halt, sending the book in his hands flying as he grabs on to Chuck to prevent both of them from tumbling from the little train cabin bed. His first instinct is to shove Chuck under the bed, tell him to stay down, but he overrides it immediately - too many years of Chuck beating it into him that he can take care of himself.

Instead he stumbles out into the main car, brows furrowed as he looks around, both trying to figure out why the hell they've stopped and trying to locate Kurloz and all his Tributes. To make sure they're okay.

That's when the explosions start, windows breaking and doors smashing and at the first sight of a molotov cocktail, Derek snaps into action. Phi's closest to the trajectory of the flaming object, so Derek lunges for her, aiming to tackle her and roll them both under a table.

[occasio]

Before the train had jerked to a stop, Phi had been whittling away her time with a book of her own. It was better than letting Kurloz's anxiousness get to her with the way the he seemed to be fussing over this visit. Was she ready to meet these people? No. Was she going to have a choice about it? Apparently not. It was better to just not think about it.

That is, until the train jerks to a sudden stop. Her book goes tumbling from her hands to the floor, and Phi has to grab a hold of the couch arm to keep from following after it. She can hear some sort of commotion outside, but the sounds are muffled by the windows. She leans a little closer to try and catch a glimpse of what's going on--and the commotion breaks into the train car with the sound of shattering glass.

She jerks back from the window at the sound of shouting and gunfire now clearly coming from outside. There's another crash, and Phi barely gets a chance to turn and see what it was before she feels another body crash into hers, taking them both to the ground. A yelp of fright passes her lips, and she's about two seconds from punching and kicking her way free before she realizes the person's grip is protective, not aggressive. A moment later, she realizes the person is Derek, and she's floored in a way that she hasn't been since, well... Sigma.

Out of the corner of her eye, she realizes that flames have caught to the couch that she was sitting on just a minute ago. She tries to sit up to get a look at the damage, putting a hand on Derek's chest to push him back a bit. "I'm fine. You can let go."

For Vivi and Rick

[weaintashes]

The length of Daryl's body was pressed into Rick's beneath the sheets, their limbs still tangled from their earlier activities, his head tucked between Rick's neck and shoulder, where his breath was warm and steady against his lover's skin. It felt as though he'd barely drifted off when the sudden shuddery jolt of the train and shrieking brakes startled him into immediate alertness; he'd been thrown backwards, nearly right off the bed.

"Rick," came his urgent and unnecessary whisper to his bedmate, whom he could tell was already waking. Quickly freeing himself from the sheets, he stood and started pulling on his clothes with practised haste, and separated Rick's out for him at the same time. Everything had been left strewn across the floor of their private compartment, and a couple items of clothing were probably confused in the low light and wound up on the wrong body, but that hardly mattered. Their priority went without saying: they had to get to Vivi and make sure he was safe.

Charlie was likewise already up and grumbling his annoyance at being woken so roughly, which soon became low growling in warning as he stood at the door listening to the chaos erupting beyond it. His attention remained there even as Daryl urged him this way and that, leashing and preparing him to take with them. There was no way in hell he'd ever leave their dog behind, especially if danger was near at hand. Better to stick together.

[rictator]

The end of the world had a way of altering one's sleeping habits, not that Rick had ever been a particularly deep sleeper. Fatherhood had put an early end to that, his ears trained for even the quietest of noises; every muted footstep, every slight cough was enough to shake him from the heaviest of slumber. The lurch of the train hadn't been nearly so subtle.

Even after nearly a year in the Capitol, Rick's hand moved immediately for a gun that wasn't there, his heart stopping for a brief moment as his mind scrambled to fill in the blanks. He'd noticed the absence of Daryl's heat even before he'd opened his eyes, his fingers groping blindly as he hurriedly followed suit, disentangling himself from the blankets.

And then he was on his feet, yanking his jeans up over his thighs and glancing around for his other boot. Words weren't needed - He already knew that they were on the same wavelength, his eyes traveling the distance between Daryl and the door, then back again. They were separated, scattered, and whatever caused this... Accident, attack, or otherwise, they were at a disadvantage. They were all unarmed, and Vivi was easily the most vulnerable of their ragtag little family, his magic still bound by the Capitol's influence.

Rick could only hope that the cacophony from the hallway beyond might mask the resounding crack as the chair hit the wall. It may have given away their position, but it was a necessary risk; the Capitol had been thorough in their sweep for potential weapons. That didn't make it any easier on his nerves, every loud noise making his heart skip, setting his teeth on edge... It wasn't until the third strike that the wood finally splintered, and Rick managed to break away one of the legs; it wouldn't even the odds, but the jagged end was sure to ruin someone's day.

There was no question as he pushed the makeshift stake in Daryl's direction, needing to know that he was taken care of first; they were running out of time, and he had no intention of arguing the point.