Ladies and Gentlemen...

[etcircenses]

The Capitol has ordered its people inward. Some move weary, knowing now some of the reason for their displacement, but they move, closer and closer to the reach of the President. It is said the children will be allowed in here past the heavy guard. But with all the distrust shaken into the core of the Capitol and the Peacekeepers at its heart, it’s not impossible to slip away. Surviving the traps to escape, however, is another story.

Outside the Capitol, the Districts line-up. In the month since the last battle, the stalemate Districts, 9 and 6 were won over. Districts 8, 10, and 1 have fewer of their number, but their rebel leaders have shown up and all the survivors with them. District 13 joins soon after, led by Webb and the Offworlders. It’ll be slow going for the Districts, but some of the Offworlders and allies have been tasked with leading the way in navigating the minefield that is the Capitol.

The Quarter Quell making up the 75th Hunger Games reached its end, but the Games themselves aren’t over yet. With all the war to prepare, the Gamemakers enlisted to work will be throwing out their best. Every arena needs it’s finale…

And there, patrolling, armed and ready to meet the traitors between the traps are the Peacekeepers. It’s their lives on the line too and they won’t be going down without a fight.

Welcome to the 76th Hunger Games.

Comments

OTA: tribble army, days 1 to ??

[biiowiired]

The warehouse was supposed to appear abandoned. Its corrugated sides were more rust than metal. Hardly any light filtered through the grime-covered windows. Inside, cobwebs were the only decoration. A tall, lanky, gray-skinned alien was fiddling with the bolt of a shipping crate. Just beyond its open door were what looked like fuzzy animals the size of a child's toy ball in various shades of brown and white. They had no discernible features other than being round. They cooed and trilled obliviously.

Tribbles were completely harmless, except for eating any and all food in their path. They also reproduced to infestation levels in a matter of hours if given even the slightest bit of food. Psii was overjoyed to find out that some of his perfect low maintenance pets had not only survived the destruction of the Tribute Tower, but also repopulated their numbers. He was scheming to plant them in Capitol soldier food caches. Though he loved them disproportionately, their sacrifice would not be in vain. No siege could last without food, no matter how strong its defenses.

Maybe you were scheduled to meet with Psii and receive a food-ration-destroying tribble in the fight against the Capitol regime. Maybe you were tipped on suspicious activity at this location and need to put this rebel and his machinations down. Maybe you just like going places where you're not allowed. Whatever the case, you've stumbled in unexpected while this troll was too busy to notice. However, his vigilance was born of paranoia, and his pointed ear inevitably pricked up.

Psii slammed the door shut and turned, hissing.

[revvinguptheharley]

As if Harleen hadn't had enough trouble during this war, and here she was looking into suspicious information? Outside of the warehouse there were other guards but they had sent her in ahead knowing her acrobatic instincts were probably enough to keep her safe.

Well...that and frankly the peacekeepers didn't care about her.

When Psii whirled on her she let out a shriek, stumbling over a crate and smashing it open as she fell over backwards, rolling comically and scrambling to her feet again.

[biiowiired]

His fangs hid at a reasonable level as he closed his mouth. He straightened from his defensive posture and crept hesitatingly toward her. Jumpy at every little thing, she reminded him of the more destitute lowbloods and slaves, including himself once upon a time. She shouldn't be scared of him, of all people, but fear was never really rational. It crept up from unseen corners and smothered one's vision. Recovery was a long road, and this war wasn't helping.

"I'm thorry, I didn't mean to thcare you," he blurted. He extended his hand to her and asked softly, "Are you OK?"

[talltaleteller]

Getting hired on by Stephen Reagan was not how Felicity had expected herself to get introduced into the wild and terrifying world of hands-on rebellion, but things just started to kind of come together once she'd signed her contract and gotten handed her little badge. One thing lead to another lead to another lead to a whisper here to an elbow there to talk of someone needed to smuggle some small things somewhere... and so that's what has brought her to Psii's little tribble dispensary.

She almost offers a careful hello, but he's right on the ball when it comes to not getting snuck up on. "Yee!" Up go her hands, empty and defensive, to stave off any possible attack. And maybe possible yelling, too. "I'm here for a tribble! That's all!" She's dressed like a Capitolite, sort of, kind of... those shoes are too practical and the colors are far more drab than stylish this season.

[biiowiired]

Psii scowled. As nice as he could be, he was also very grumpy half the time.

"You're early. How about announthing yourthelf when you come in? Or do you get a kick out of being on the wrong end of an optic blatht?"

He doubted someone who exhibited Capitolite culture had enough fighting skill to challenge him, but he always erred on the cautious side. Assuming everyone was out to cull him in a variety of powered and non-powered ways worked on Alternia. So what if he drove people off sometimes? It kept him alive.

He opened the door to the fuzzy, cooing pile.

"Take your pick, but the oneth with thtripeth are mine only. I athume you've already retheived your drop point?"

[talltaleteller]

Oh, he's going to be like that, is he? Felicity may be an eensy bit intimidated by trolls, but she's not going to put up with that kind of nonsense from anybody. "I was gonna announce myself! You turned around and got all on my case before I even could!"

Good thing there are adorable, cooing tribbles to act as a distraction. She sighs and lowers her hands and creeps closer, craning her neck in to try and find a choice on. They... are all pretty similar, and you'd think that would make the choice easier, but it doesn't.

"...hey. You remember Gary Epps, right? D'you know what happened to his tribbles? I heard someone got 'em...." Aah. There. There's an orangey one, that reminds her just a bit of the one he'd hidden in his shirt at a party that one time. Yes. That one would be good. She dips in and scoops it up.

"Yeah, yeah. I've got the spot. I know where I'm going."

[biiowiired]

He just rolled his eyes (hard to see with his particular set, but whatever) at her protests. He seemed to come around at the mention of Gary, the enthusiastic proponent of tribbles as pets. He and Gary were kindred spirits in that.

"Well, after we were taken by Thirteen, the oneth that weren't exthterminated went into hiding and prethumably bred with each other. There'th probably theveral mixthed dethendantth here. I'm thurprithed thith many thurvived the Training Center'th collapthe, but they do breed tenathiouthly. Which remindth me: Do you remember the number one rule of tribbleth, the thing you mutht never do unleth you are intentionally breeding a thwarm of them?" He fixed her with a pointed look.

[porcelainandsteel]

Sansa wasn't looking for trouble. Quite the opposite - she was panicking, still totally unprepared for a real battle, and she ran for the warehouse because it looked like a safe haven. Dark. Abandoned. Quiet, too - no sound of gunfire, no screaming.

Was it a trap? She knew it could be, but fear overrode thought, and she ducked inside without considering it, clutching her gun to her chest and breathing heavily. Her lips moved silently, in a prayer for the Mother's mercy.

She was just starting to breathe again, her eyes adjusting to the dimness, when the door slammed and she realised she wasn't alone. With a little moue of fear, she flattened herself back against the wall, eyes wide, mind racing. Say something! Now, before he kills you! But her tongue's like lead in her mouth, and she can't say anything at all.

[biiowiired]

Sansa had assumed right. The warehouse was some distance away from battle. Tribbles were not an urgently needed supply like first aid or food. In fact, it was wisest to keep them away from their own food supplies. Few shared his enthusiasm for the pests.

He was glad to have some time away from the fighting. He wasn't going to kill people left and right. This wasn't Alternia, and he wasn't the scared runaway he used to be. Every death was another precognitive voice added to the mix, and his head had already been overrun with visions days before the fighting started. It was much too easy for someone like him to wipe a field clean of soldiers. He didn't want to kill someone who could have been an ally under different circumstances, like Roland for example, who had once been forced to fight for the Capitol.

He saw her defensive stance—and the gun in her hand. Sparks immediately flew to surround him in oscillating red and blue. The glow covered the tribble container as well. He wasn't afraid of her gun now. A high-powered laser cannon or an RPG might make a dent, but as long as he kept his shield up, he was effectively bulletproof.

"You don't have an appointment."

[porcelainandsteel]

She wetted her lips with a brief, furtive dart of her tongue, eyes wide and heart thudding in her ears. Sometimes, she could look much older than she was; she carried herself with the right sort of elegance and sense of self for that. But now wasn't one of those times. Right now, she just looked like a frightened thirteen-year-old girl, who barely knew how to hold the gun and certainly didn't want to use it.

"I don't..." she said at last, her voice high and quavering. She cleared her throat, biting her lip, and tried to summon up her courage. I am a wolf. I am a wolf. I will not be afraid. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything, ser. I'll go."

[biiowiired]

Psii could posture and present himself as a scary, stoic psionic bodyguard if he wanted to, instead of a young adult nerd with survival's guilt and more spark than bite. Both facets were true, even if they seemed to cancel each other out. He could see she was shaking in her shoes, but he also didn't want a bullet to the head. A scared person could still kill him on impulse.

"Oh hell no. You come into my plathe, holding a gun, and you exthpect me to jutht ignore that? You might be completely utheleth on the battlefield, but anyone can pull a trigger. Firtht of all, take the magazine out and throw that thing towardth me."

[porcelainandsteel]

"What's the magazine?" Her fear might not be feigned, but her ignorance is. Maybe, if she seems clueless enough, she can get away with not giving up her weapon. It isn't that she wants to use it - the thought makes her sick to her stomach - but nor does she want to be stuck in a closed-off area with an enemy soldier, without even a working weapon for protection.