thecapitol | Mass murder was the last straw [OPEN]

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Mass murder was the last straw [OPEN]

Who| Joan Watson and OPEN
What| Joan is talking to friends, and to people she hasn't met yet, looking for allies to help her bring down the Capitol.
Where| The Speakeasy, the Training Center, the park
When| After the revelation of District 3's destruction and Penny's predictable lies.
Warnings/Notes| If you would like Joan to approach your character in one of these places, tag in with what your character is doing and I'll have her initiate contact.

I. The Speakeasy

"The Speakeasy's theirs."

That's what Wyatt had told her when they had only moments to speak freely to each other while the Capitol was unable to look in on their thoughts. So when Joan goes looking for potential allies, she starts there. The dive is, as always, dark and loud, perfect for hiding lips and faces and drowning words. She goes to the bar, orders what passes for beer in Panem, and carries to a booth in the corner where she can see the whole room, as well as the door. She looks for people she knows, people she recognizes.

II. The Training Center

Joan has met a number of people in the training center. It's one place where she knows she can find Tributes without going floor by floor, which would be both time consuming and suspicious.

She walks into the gymnasium and surveys the stations. If she sees no one, she makes her way to the shelter-making station, and looks over the different supplies.

III. The park

Joan isn't exactly looking for anyone in the park. Instead, she's looking (without looking like she's looking) for spots that might be sufficiently free of cameras and microphones to make good meeting place for sensitive conversation.

Of course, that doesn't mean she isn't also aware of the people around her. Sitting on benches, passing her by...following her...

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That assessment earns a grunt of assent and Albert's nose in a beer again for a moment. "You and me both."

He hates the cloak and dagger, but he has to be more careful now. What's left of District 3 - its tributes and mentors - are on a knife's edge and for the sake of his fellows he can't risk being as outspoken as he has been. Not long ago he'd even groveled at Penny's feet to save Eponine. It's a start, but he can't backslide now, so he chooses his words carefully, concerned but not assigning blame. He hopes Joan can see through it, intelligent as she is.

"Jessica won't get out of bed, Eddie I think may try to put himself into a drug-hazed coma, Eponine seems keen on walking headfirst into her own doom, and all the rest are..." He sighs and turns the glass against the bartop. "The suits are a dour place right now, to say the least."

A little of why what small amount of sleep he can make himself get is taken in Jet's room in the District 2 suites instead, not that he's open about that. It seems a little pathetic to find comfort in his partner's space when said partner is still fighting for his life in the arena.

"I can't imagine what that must be like. They've even gone out of their way to get us to identify with our Districts, and then they do this." She sighs, her teeth tight. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not that I can think of, unless you have some cure for heartache." He sighs and glances around the bar before turning his attention back. "Jessica's sister was lost in the eradication, along with whatever else there was left of her life before victory. I wish I knew of some way to help her manage the heartache I know she's feeling."

"That's terrible," she says softly. She didn't know any of the Victors, so it hadn't occurred to her that of course there would be some from District 3 who lost their home and their people.

"You can be present," she answers. "And listen. In the end, though, what she'll need most is time."

"I've been trying. Mostly she holes up in her room. I've gotten her to eat a little, though." But only a little. He hopes that Barbie fellow, the victor from 1 who visits more and more, is having more luck.

"Losing one person is bad enough to go through. Losing everyone you've ever known in an instant like that.." He shakes his head.

"I can't even imagine what that must be like." She sighs, glances away. "When I was doing my ER rotation, I treated a man who had just been in a car accident with his whole family. Wife and three kids. They died at the scene, and I was just stitching up a scalp laceration. He was just...broken. A lot of guilt."

"I can imagine..." he trails off, more than imagining; it had taken him a very long time to forgive himself for Hilda's death when he'd been the one behind the wheel. Decades. And sometimes he feels it anyway despite having accepted that he couldn't have changed anything.

"You're lucky you can't imagine it."

She watches his face, sees the pain there.

"Not at the scale of a whole district," she says softly. "But I've lost people too."

"No, of course, I didn't mean to imply-" He sits up straight, looking embarrassed. "I apologize. This isn't any kind of competition. It's taken its toll on all of us..."

Damnit, what is it with him sticking his foot in his mouth so often lately?

She blinks in surprise when he apologizes.

"Oh, no! That's not what I meant. Just...that I can relate."

She sighs, changes the subject.

"Destroying the District was a stupid thing for the Capitol to do. They've just created a whole group of people who have little left to lose."

"I agree. It's going to come back and bite them, mark my words." He just wishes he could help it happen. He's had enough of totalitarian societies and mass loss of life. What were they fighting for all those years if the world only ended up like this?

"There's also the resistance," she notes, careful to watch his reaction. "Blowing up a whole district is just going to make them more determined."

"It's true. If the Capitol keeps pushing, something is going to snap and there may be a full on rebellion." He uses carefully noncommittal language in a practiced way, not letting on that he either condones or condemns a course of action, just commenting on the future. That in and of itself may be a clue, though. He's been outspoken against the Capitol before and this isn't exactly a change of tune, just a much more cautious expression.

"I expect we wouldn't hear much of it through proper channels, however, what with the majority of television taken up with the Games."

"Not only that. The government manipulates the media to hide things they don't want known. You can notice, though, if you look close enough. That's how I knew there was something wrong in District 3."

Giving him a bit of information as a show of trust.

That catches his attention and he raises an eyebrow, taking a surreptitious look around the bar to make certain they haven't been overheard. "It wasn't Cecil's subversive broadcast that tipped you off?"

He sounds wry, not quite joking but maybe speaking with a little humor. Even so, the way he phrases it and his intonation implies he'd like to know more if it's safe to tell.

It's dark, and noisy, and Joan has a general trust that things said quietly in the Speakeasy will not get back to the Capitol. She's still alive, after all, and still in possession of her tongue.

"The other way around. I'm the one who tipped him off."

Albert's eyebrows disappear into his fringe of hair in surprise, but to his credit all he asks in a quiet voice is "how?"

"I ran into a recent emigrant from District 3 who let slip that he had been saved. Then I watched the news from the Districts, and saw that all the footage from 3 was repeated from older broadcasts. I went to Cecil to ask him to find out what was going on."

She shrugs.

"So I half tipped him off. The specifics, he discovered on his own."

At this revelation, Albert leans in close. It looks more like an intimate discussion with a friend than anything conspiratory but he must know what Joan does about District 3. "They're hiding it. Why? If it's a message to everyone the government sees as misbehaving then why keep it a secret? It's counter productive. Unless something else was going on there they don't want the public finding out."

She leans in a little too. "I don't know," she admits. "I agree, it doesn't make sense. It can't be just a show of strength, they didn't show anybody."

She glances away, eyes narrowing slightly as a thought struck her.

"Maybe they were waiting for something. Maybe they were hoping to time the reveal with something else."

"I don't think so. I can't imagine they'd go through the trouble of a - frankly - sloppy cover up when it would lessen the impact of what they're revealing if the story's already been broken. No, they must be hiding something." He rubs the side of his finger against his lips, thinking. "Something that was in District 3, an event or an object, a person, it could be anything, but it's something that could rattle the government's foundation, that's for certain given what we've seen."

"It's possible."

She glances away and presses her lips in thought.

"I can keep reviewing the broadcasts. See if there's anything they seem to be covering."

"Please. I'll keep my eyes and ears open too, though there's little to work with. Anyone who knows anything seems to know to keep guarded around District 3 tributes. All I seem to get are sympathetic looks."

"I'll let you know what I find out. Is there anything else I can do to help?"

"I'm not sure," he leans back in the booth, sighing quietly. He looks his age for a moment, just in the eyes. Old and weary. "I want to be more involved but I don't know where to start. I'm used to working with more assets than this."

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