seemed easier than just waiting around to die; (OPEN)

[assassinat]

Who| Nat and YOU!
What| Another newcomer and the fronts she puts on
Where| District 8 floor, shopping area, wherever else
When| With the rest of the newbies
Warnings/Notes| #comics (N/A)

Whoever her abductors were, they were good enough to capture the Black Widow without it being a part of her plan and therefore in doing so have earned themselves her temporary cooperation. It isn't that she wants to rebel (because she does), but there were more important matters to tend to other than pointlessly question those who will deny her significant answers. That and she's had decades of experience when it came to asking questions: these goons aren't going to tell her what she needs to know.

The next best thing is to experience it herself. The first chance she gets to peel away from the other tributes and those watching her, Natasha takes it and explores to her heart's content. If there's something or someone out there she needs to find, she'll be sure to do it before entering a death arena.

      ➊ (DISTRICT 8 FLOOR)
Natasha's time here is minimal. Just enough to memorize faces, to pick apart those who might seem familiar and those who aren't, and to identify who may be trouble later on. There's no hint to what her skill set may be when she's around others, choosing instead to feign ignorance and charm others with a smile that shows her discomfort. The role she plays today is that of a scared woman, who has just been ripped from an everyday life to participate in a bloodbath. A woman who is petrified of death, but attempts to face it with a brave face.

It's a flimsy mask and Natasha already fears something may slip through the cracks. Her thoughts are elsewhere, but she remains focused on her role until she leaves the Training Center building.

      ➋ (SHOPPING)
It isn't so out of character for a woman to take up retail therapy when something devastating happens to her, so Natasha lingers in this area for a good amount of time. There's a lot to take in, but more importantly the people are vocal with their conversations so there's plenty of information to be found. This is what she thrives on, the good honest speculation is more reliable than any book she can request at the Training Center.

There's also no harm in looking at what's for sale either. What better way to understand the culture than to look over the absurd things they value?

      ➌ (OPEN)
OOC | Have an idea or already coordinated something with me? Feel free to hit me up with anything.

Comments

[earthborn]

The military, any military, runs on a few basic essentials. For example, if pay stops for an significant amount of time, there might be grumbling, but you'll still get your work done; the Alliance Navy is well known for honoring its debts. But without a food-supply, even the bravest won't venture more than a half-day from anywhere, and without caffeine it'll be a challenge to get them even that far.

Shepard knew she had a problem. She admits it; it's just that there isn't anything she's going to do about it. Caffeine withdrawl wasn't fun, but it wasn't fatal, and there was never any logic so well-founded that she couldn't easily put off the ordeal until tomorrow.

Which is probably where Natasha finds her, sitting on the ground against a low retaining wall in one of the lovely little grassy berms the Capitol uses to beautify their find city. Yes the carafé and hot-plate are both stolen from the tribute tower, of course they are. Do you expect her to sit here and drink it cold while she reads?

Heathen. Next you'll be saying she should use a cup instead of drinking it straight from the pot like a civilized person.

[assassinat]

Every person has their vice. For Natasha, it's atonement for all that she's done as she desperately seeks to undo all the death she's wrought. No easy feat considering she's built a sizable reputation, but still it's what keeps her distracted.

For her, it appears to be coffee? Restless nights perhaps, trouble staying asleep, or she could just enjoy the taste.

"Long night?" Teasing and as friendly as she can make it.

Natasha has a lot of trouble with the latter half when it comes to women, but why not try it for now? Everyone else has been treated kindly so far and she's only been shot at once. All in all a good day.

[earthborn]

"If I can help it."

Shepard likes work, and work likes coffee, and sleep is the enemy that must be fought off until you pass out or die trying. Nightmares and flash backs and memories she sure as hell hopes aren't hers, oh my.

Shepard gives Natasha a second glance— well, a double-take. Ah, look at you, miss, with that District insignia on your Tribute-issue shirt. You're on the same shitty boat as I.

"Oh. You're new," her tone is closed. Shepard doesn't trust nice, or friendly; give her an honest asshole, any day, "Got a name?"

[assassinat]

"Sure you'll hear it soon enough." The change in tone frustrates her, but she matches along with it. No point in acting coy when she's been seen through.

Lots of people are seeing right through her today. She's not used to being around those who are just as paranoid as herself.

"Natasha." No point in giving a last name, not until she's entirely sure which one the Gamemakers will call her by. "District 8--as you can tell."

[earthborn]

She has to snort at that. From cheerful to professional on a moment's notice, and she didn't even have to hit anyone. Nice.

"Okay. I'm Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy," She's got no indication of District Five anywhere on her person— lately it's been back to the shepherd puns with the Stylists, and today is the day of powder blue sweatshirts with fleecy cartoon sheep. But the carafé has five's symbol stenciled on it, numeric designation standing proud, so there's no keeping it a secret.

It's just that Shepard doesn't give a damn about arbitrarily applied team divisions.

"Got a friend in Eight. You've probably noticed him, tall guy, face like a bird got with a cricket," Garrus was anything but inconspicuous, in the predominately human Tribute center, "Don't eat anything with his name on it. I promise you'll thank me."

[assassinat]

A friend? Someone from home or something else? The way she describes him isn't the most pleasant, but Natasha stomachs the news like she does anything else. Filed away and with a neutral expression to boot.

Alliance Navy. Commander. A militant woman, she can respect that, despite the attire she's wearing.

"Wrong shade of blue."

She finally comments awkwardly on the style. Thankfully Natasha's avoided the ones who want to dress her up, but not for long. Her time will come, but what will they do to her? How can they identify someone they don't really know yet?

"They do that often? Mess with your wardrobe?"

[earthborn]

"They toned it down some after I threatened to give 'em a few new holes with their own shears, but you can't get away from it entirely," Claudia had seemed relatively calm about the whole ordeal, and she'd scared off the understudies, permanently, "But if you're out here, then they're already screwing with yours."

Come to think of it, she'd heard a rumor of Claudia retiring. That would be the third stylist and second escort the District Five tributes had collectively run off since Shepard had arrived. Not a bad record.

"Hope you like fancy designer ballgowns."

[assassinat]

"Really?" That's not too bad.

Then again, Natasha does enjoy dressing up as her finest while she's out. Today is a rare exception, having been in a rush to get out to absorb as much information as she can get.

"I can't wait to see what they come up with."

[earthborn]

Shepard has to put down her coffee to stare— she can't help it. She needs to be sure that Natasha is being serious.

...oh wow, she is. She has no idea what constitutes fancy and designer, around here. This is...going to be interesting.

"I'm sure you'll just love it. After the arena, of course."

[assassinat]

To her she can't wait to find out what they think of her. What does her Stylist think she radiates? What sort of person do they think Natalia Romanova to be?

"What about our wardrobes there? Don't tell us they send us into the arena wearing heels and evening gowns."

[earthborn]

"Depends on the arena. Last time it was flannel nightshirts, no shoes. Time before that, safari shorts. I'm pretty sure they think they're being cute," Shepard doesn't think much of cute, "You haven't quite lived until you watch a grown man get his ass kicked by a nine year old dressed like a cupcake."

She's being deliberately wry, but there had been something very special about Pruna getting the drop on mister Barton. What a good kid— it makes her smile to remember it.

[assassinat]

Children as well. Women are easier for Natasha to stomach. For years, women have been hurt and abused for the sake of humoring man so while it hurt a part of her to think about it, it was still something that was normal.

A nine year old killer? Not so unheard of where she's from, but she's also from a world where a man flies around in a metal suit and gods from other worlds fight.

"Some cupcake." A wry comment on the subject before she moves on with, "There's no way to tell what we will have before the day, is there?"

[earthborn]

"What, and spoil the surprise?" She goes back to her coffee for a moment, thinking. Natasha seems like a practical enough woman— she's asking the right questions. Jane set it down on the hotplate and put her datapad— tablet, damn archaic technology— aside.

"My advice is eat fatty foods and get in the habit of being up at four every morning. You're gonna want those fat reserves later, they don't call them 'The Hunger Games' for nothing," Shepard had been less than a day from death by starvation when Iskierka had put her teeth in Shep's throat, last time, "And I wouldn't try to step off your spot before the countdown is finished. But that's just me."

[assassinat]

Good advice, she'll take it to heart.

Natasha is a simple person. She values her sleep. She values eating. She enjoys looking nice. All three of those things being denied at once?

The bloodbath is the least of her worries.

"So this is really happening."

[earthborn]

Shepard's smile was thin. Ah, now you're getting it.

"Welcome to the losing side."

[assassinat]

"We're all losers in the end, aren't we? From what I hear, winners don't get to return home either."

Why would they want to, Natasha asks herself. Why would anyone who engaged in this sort of gladiator sport be able to live with themselves and return to the life they left behind?

[earthborn]

"That depends on whether or not you believe the promises made by a totalitarian government that demands it's war reparations be made in the literal blood of children," Ah, dry wit. The last safe haven of the doomed, "But so far? I'm gonna go with, no. They don't."

[assassinat]

"So there's no true incentive."

Yet people still eagerly participated in these games. Why? That's the question on her mind.

[earthborn]

That's the question, isn't it? Why fight, if you can't win? Why win if you can't live with yourself?

Really, it's the same as anywhere else; they don't want to die. People are hoary-minded, emotional things, full of contradictions. A machine, a logical being, might step off the pillar every time, and make the arenas much shorter than they otherwise would be. People?

It was the hope that did it. That one faint glimmer of hope. Well that, and the silent looming threat of going through the rest of your life as an Avox.

But Shepard didn't say any of that, just tipped her drink at Natasha and watched her reaction.

[assassinat]

There has to be something she's overlooking. Is it the servant-like people who are constantly running about, doing errands for everyone, and generally looking nothing like the flashy companions they follow five steps behind?

Maybe. She doesn't want to think about them right now.

"No one enjoys dying." Is her answer in the end. A solid one, but not the one she was looking for.

[earthborn]

"You can be a conscientious objector if you want. Everybody's got their own degrees of not doing shit— or otherwise."

She wasn't satisfied, and that was good. If Natasha wanted more information, however, she was probably going to have to observe. Shepard placed a high value on a good solid line of inquiry, but there was so much that would only be words unless you learned it for yourself.

Like the fact that one of the Avox was wearing a face identical, but for the scars, to Jane's own. The message had been simple; straighten up or you're next.

"But they are going to put you in the Arena no matter what you do," Shepard didn't doubt a determined tribute could kill a few peacekeepers before they got you, but it wasn't exactly a solid plan of escape, "And the only way out is dead, or last man standing. You should probably take some time to review the highlight reels. I know I'll be watching yours."

That's an offer of friendship, if you like— though, maybe it sounds more like a threat.

[assassinat]

"The highlight reels--do you mean when they scored us?"

This charade of her's is going to end very quickly if so. It was stupid to believe they would remain private since nothing here was private. If they were out for everyone to see, well, she likely made a few enemies.

"So that's how it is. Showing off for people who will sponsor you is one thing, but actually trying to survive out in an arena? How many people can do that?"

[earthborn]

"Most of them. You might be surprised how well," She spread her hands to illustrate the futility of it all, "And no, I mean the part where the Arenas are publicly televised for entertainment purposes. But, if you're interested..."

She picked up the tablet and after a few taps and swipes, turned to show Natasha the readout. Ah, there it was, with a very nice mug-shot and all the fun little notations to tease the gambling public.

"Wow," Even Shepard hadn't scored that high, but then she'd never been political about this particular cul-de-sac in her life, just annoyed, "You must've really pissed them off, they only score people that high when they wanna paint a target on you."

[assassinat]

There it was right in front of her face.

Whatever act she has been throwing at the experienced Tributes the past day was all for naught. Frustration tugs at her mind gently, but she swallows it down. Time to roll with the punches, even the ones that are aimed beyond her gut and hit a little closer to home.

"Guess I made quite the impression." Exhaling deeply as she rubs the back of her neck in a futile gesture, one that reeks of being anxious.

"So what happens to those who have a target on them?"

[earthborn]

"Uh, typically, that would be the part where the professionals among us try to gut you," it's almost an apology, but only almost. Awkward, "But I've set myself up for a lot of work this time around, so unless you feel the special need to start a fight..."

There were advantages to making a basic attempt at empathy and avoiding child-murdering, and then there were times like this. It made her wonder if Natasha wasn't likely to take Venus' route and constantly make references to 'that one time I stabbed you'.

"Don't take it too personally."