thecapitol | rogue ◎ open!

Who| beck and YOU!
What| a rebellious program wants to start something
Where| out and around
When| now!
Warnings/Notes| none yet!

( training center )

Beck wasn't happy.

To be honest, he hadn't been completely happy since he came here. Since before, even. Things were messed up here. As a program, he used to think that Users were the greatest. They created the Grid he lived in, they told him of his primary function and a place to work at. Users were supposed to be everything above a program.

But they weren't "above" programs here. These Users were just as bad as the programs at home who idolized over the games, only worse. In the Grid, nobody brought back the same competitors because they were dead- who cared? But here, it was a repeating cycle. They knew that the tributes would hurt here when they died, but they brought them back anyway.

It was sick.

In Argon City, Beck was originally supposed to be a mechanic. But before he left, he was a rogue program. The Grid was being overtaken by a dictator of sorts, and he had been fighting against him. Any little thing he did to slow down the Occupation, he did it. Beck loved to fight, to be the Renegade. So why couldn't he be the Renegade here?

He frowned as he thought, picking up a spear nearby. He drew his arm back and tossed it forward with a yell, aiming for the center of a stuffed dummy nearby.

( commons )

Okay. He wanted to start a rebellion. He knew how to do it; for a while, Beck had been running around on the streets, trying to gain supporters by his actions and those alone. As far as he knew, he had been...getting better at it. There wasn't a full-scale revolution going on, but as far as he was concerned, it was getting started.

But it wouldn't work here, would it?

Beck wasn't a program anymore; the only part of him that represented that was the identity disc on his back. And honestly, that wasn't really helpful to him here. He was pure flesh and blood, almost fragile in a way. The last few times in the arena kind of showed that to him.

Supporters. A rebellion needed supporters...

...but who would want to here? In a place where Users knew how to manipulate other Users, and sent them through punishments, and penalties in the arena...this wouldn't work, would it?

Beck sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Things weren't the same as they were in the Grid. Could he even make it through this?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rat had an armful of books. Yes books, none of this digital nonsense. Sure, he knew and was used to the tech, but there was nothing like paper and leather in his fingers. It was quite the stack, too, more than most people would be able to carry from wherever he'd spirited them from. He dropped them with a heavy thud onto a tabletop, and started sorting through them.

He took a smaller stack over toward the communal bookshelves, but there was a familiar face in the way. Last he'd seen it, it'd been cold and lifeless after he'd slit his throat. It was time to see for himself just how cruel the Arena was. "You really don't have much concept of what's going on around you, do you?" he said with an exasperated sigh.

As far as resemblance to the "woman" Beck had tried to help, his hair was left long, though it was in much better condition than it had been when Beck saw it. His stylists had chosen some fluttery sort of peasant shirt for him, something the Phantom might have worn during his final scenes. He looked like the cover of a romance novel, but the shirt was actually closed.

Edited 2014-02-18 07:37 (UTC)

At first, Beck couldn't recognize the voice. But when he looked up and saw Rat standing there, a flood of very unpleasant memories came flooding back.

There was pain, and red and white and black...and then after a while, there was nothing at all. Things felt that way, until he woke up back in the Capitol. Not a scar or bloodstain to be seen.

He jumped up, his heart suddenly racing at a million miles an hour. Okay, so you were kind of forced to kill in the Arena. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to be wary. Absolutely nothing of the sort.

"What are you doing here?"

He just looked at Beck, with nothing in his look that implied he knew at all what had gotten that reaction from him. Beck was nothing but a nuisance at the moment. "You're in the way." He pointed at the recently-emptied bookshelves nearby.

It hadn't been anything personal, Beck. What happens in the arena, stays in the arena.

He couldn't ever see it that way. As much as he was told, and as much as it made sense (not a lot, anyway), Beck never could. It would probably be helpful, considering what they were going through.

But he gets out of Rat's way all the time. This guy wasn't trustworthy, so Beck wasn't about to get involved with this guy more than he could. If he does what Rat requests, everything would be fine.

Rat went back to what he was doing, but the look he was getting didn't go unnoticed. "Don't be mad at me for laying an obvious trap. Be mad at yourself for falling for it," he told him. He didn't look up from what he was doing at all. He started excavating another shelf into a messy heap on the floor. He sat down and started flipping through some volumes to give them a cursory evaluation.

"It wasn't obvious." Okay, so Beck would give him that much credit. This guy could look and sound just like a woman if he wanted to. It was a trick, but it was dirty. Dirty and unfair to everyone this guy probably lured in.

This coming from a guy who hasn't killed anyone yet. And doesn't want to.

Beck sighed, crossing his arms as he watched Rat flip through the pages. "I don't understand why people do it."

He didn't really care about this guy, only enough that he'd finished him off before he'd suffered too much. But he'd do the same for anyone. He sighed. "And not an ounce of appreciation for singing you off back here instead of letting you squirm around in pain and bleed out on the floor."

Beck can't even believe that.

"Do you want me to thank you for killing me?" He didn't understand blood loss and all of that jazz. He didn't really understand that what Rat did was actually a good thing. There's so much that Beck doesn't know about the human body still, and it irritates him. "Well then, thanks. Also thanks for tricking me and stabbing me twice."

He still didn't look up from what he was doing. This guy was the kind of idiot Rat wanted nothing to do with. One idealist in his life was more than enough. "Alright, I'll remember this for the next Arena. Normally people pay good money to get a send-off. You got it for free, and lived to complain about it." If he'd been disaffected earlier, he's rather annoyed now. There's levels of stupid he just couldn't pretend didn't exist.

"I don't care about you giving me a send-off." Whatever that meant..."I'm talking about how you set yourself up and blaming your injuries on someone else, instead of just fighting for yourself." Beck glared. "I wouldn't have cared if you left me there."

"Suit yourself," he finally concluded. He switched some books around and continued his browsing. He was pretty much done with this guy at this point. He was more than welcome to be ungrateful if he wanted to. He knew he'd bea ble to spare the effort next time.

Well, this guy wasn't really worth his time, was he?

Beck couldn't say he ever met someone like this before. Someone who killed you out of a dirty trick, and then wanted you to be more appreciative because he decided to kill you and spare you. Not even a program was like that. Were they?

He liked to think there were none. "Fine." Beck glared at Rat's back, and started to walk away. He had better things to do rather than get caught up in this stuff.

rogue ◎ open!

Commons - Because this can only end in tears and awesome...

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