thecapitol | blah blah void blah blah spiders blah blah science [open]

Entry tags:

blah blah void blah blah spiders blah blah science [open]

Who| Carlos and anyone
What| Since Carlos's survival hinges on his ability to act like he doesn't care, he's going about his business as usual. Even though he and Cecil had a very short-lived but very public romantic relationship, he's acting like he doesn't care. Come make his life harder. Come ask him how he feels.
Where| The D10 rooms, a coffeeshop, and the Speakeasy
When| After Penny and Cruentus's classy, classy announcement.
Warnings/Notes Possible mention of torture, drinking in the last prompt. Also, the first two prompts will involve Carlos denying any real feelings for Cecil. If you want an honest discussion with him, it'll have to be in the Speakeasy.

PROMPT A: D10 common room

Carlos had known what to expect. Penny had announced that Cecil would be avoxed, after all. He had known this was coming.

That had not made keeping a straight face during the broadcast any easier.

He turned off his communicator and knew that if he was going to make this act convincing, he couldn't hide up in his room all day. Carlos hated this act. It was like he had told one lie in the Arena and hadn't been able to stop lying since. It disgusted him. However, he knew that at this point, he had no choice.

There was no need to fake the irritation on Carlos's face as he walked out into the D10 common area and sat down in one of the chairs. He pulled out a notebook and began to scribble in it. Was he writing or drawing? It would be hard to tell...

PROMPT B: TRIBUTE CENTER COMMONS: GENERIC CAPITOL COFFEESHOP

Here Carlos was, sitting in the very place Dave had brought his last words to Cecil, drinking something too hot for the midsummer weather and talking into his tape recorder. If you get close enough, you might hear snatches of what he was saying:

"--correct about my impending death--"

"--new tactic--"

"--willingly cooperate--"

This part of the Tribute center was open to the public: anyone might pass by and see him.

PROMPT C: THE SPEAKEASY

Carlos wasn't one to drink out of sadness. Not usually. He had been in and out of the Speakeasy these past few weeks, having important discussions about the rebellion.

This time, though, he was after some self-administered emotional numbing.

"I don't even know what's in this," he muttered to himself, staring at the half-empty glass in front of him, which was a mass of swirling colors.

PROMPT D: ELEVATORS

Being two floors from the top meant that Carlos stood a solid chance of sharing an elevator on the way two and from the D10 rooms. He was used to it, and usually, didn't mind it. Today, however, it was all but a guarantee that whoever he ended up in the elevator with would be awkward as hell, and Carlos was really tired of dealing with it. He shifted from foot to foot in his lab coat, trying not to sigh when the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

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He nodded. "I heard something about TB. Do the doctors know how so many people ended up with it at once?"

"The diseases were brought to the Capitol by all those extra visitors before the last Arena," Carlos explained. "Then when the visitors were shown around the city, they left a lot of foreign bacteria in a lot of places. There hasn't been a single recorded case of typoid or tuberculosis in Panem in over a century, and hypermalaria isn't native to Earth at all. Ergo, everyone in Panem was extremely vulnerable to infection."

"That makes sense." He wondered how he and Barbara hadn't got ill in any of the places they'd been to - there was bound to be diseases they hadn't encountered in those places. No doubt the Doctor would have had an explanation or avoided the question, had Ian ever thought to ask. But maybe they'd just got lucky.

"I suppose that means we won't have any more visitors." He hoped so. He really didn't want to see anyone he knew here again.

"At least not for a while," Carlos agreed. "It got a whole lot of bad press, so I don't think many citizens want another batch of visitors like that for a long time." Of course, that meant that the city wasn't too kindly disposed towards the Tributes themselves, but Carlos wasn't about to bring that unpleasant fact up. He tried not to let his face darken too much; tried to stay cheerfully unconcerned. The cameras, after all, were everywhere.

"I won't complain about that," he said with feeling. "I can't say I enjoyed trying to pretend everything was sweetness and roses." Not that his pretence lasted for long.

"How much further is this place?" He wasn't too sure how much longer he wanted to keep up the small talk.

"Not far. It's just around the corner, there." Carlos gestured in one direction.

Then, when they got to the corner, he turned in the opposite direction. Down a narrow gap between two buildings they went, and when they emerged, they were in front of a small, nondescript door.

Carlos led the way inside, holding the door for Ian behind him.

"This is it," he said, once the door was safely shut. Then, in a lower tone: "We can talk safely in here. There are no cameras in the entire building."

Ian was sceptical, much as he liked the look of the place. It did seem well hidden, but Carlos could still be leading him into a trap. "How can you be sure?" he asked, looking around to see if he could see where cameras might be hidden.

"I tested it," he replied confidently, leading Ian towards a booth off to the side. "Listen. I'll show you." Carlos slid into a seat at a table, where listening devices were most likely to be, and cleared his throat. "President Snow is a two-faced son of a proton, and I'm going to lead a handful of Tributes into the Presidential Mansion to kill him."

It was the kind of statement that would send Peacekeepers running and bring the law down on them hard. Carlos, though, looked unconcerned.

Ian stood nearby, holding his breath and ready to deny all knowledge. But nothing happened and as nothing continued to happen he considered the idea that Carlos was right and slid into the seat opposite him.

It could still be a trick, of course, and Carlos had arranged in advance that he'd say such a thing. That seemed like too much paranoia, though, but he'd be careful, just in case.

"All right, I believe you." He looked around toward the bar. "Do they serve decent beer in there?"

"It's not half bad," said Carlos, flashing Ian a small grin. "Though they usually give me glowing drinks that flash strange colors. I think they feel like those drinks are more scientifically interesting than the ones that don't."

What Carlos didn't say was that they were completely right.

Ian chuckled, sure that those drinks were just a gimmick and probably contained very little alcohol. "I think I'll stick to the beer."

Having established the service was by waitress, he waved a nearby one over and ordered a beer for himself, then waited for Carlos to choose a drink.

Once the waitress had gone he said, "You brought me here to prove you're not working for the capitol?" There was a small note of scepticism in his voice.

"Not exactly," replied Carlos, taking off his glasses and fidgeting with them a little nervously. "It's more that circumstances made it impossible for us to have an honest conversation anywhere else, and...I wanted to find out where we stood," he explained. "Being honest has gotten a lot harder lately," he added darkly.

"It has," he agreed and sighed. He wasn't even sure where he stood any more, never mind 'we'.

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "I'm not going to do anything that might end up with someone else getting hurt, but I'm not going to pretend I love the government either."

Since Carlos was either doing the latter or not pretending at all, Ian wasn't sure if it was a good idea for them to be seen in the same company.

"I never meant for things to become as complicated as they did," Carlos admitted, with a note of apology in his voice. "I told one lie in the Arena and it sort of gained momentum until it became impossible to stop. I can't go back now, not without putting at least a dozen others in danger. Maybe more, I don't know." This fact distressed Carlos: he knew too much to risk being taken in for interrogation. "Most likely more, actually, considering what I know."

Ian looked sympathetic at that admission. He understood putting others in danger. "The capitol have certainly doing their best recently to remind us of the consequences of rebelling."

Carlos looked up at Ian, his brows knotted, his mouth pulled into an uncertain line.

"If the consequences are too severe," he said, "and you don't want me to tell you anything else, I understand, Ian. We're both being watched already, and if the government even suspects that you know something..." Carlos left the rest of that implied.

However, he was offering. If Ian wanted to help -- if Ian wanted to be part of the rebellion -- Carlos would give him an in.

He didn't care about consequences to him, it was what the capitol would do to other people that worried him. He was considering Carlos's offer when their drinks came. Ian took a sip of his beer and then stared at it. Sadly this city wasn't the place to get a decent pint of beer. Not that it would stop him from drinking it now he'd bought it.

He sat back, one hand around the glass. If he knew something, but didn't do anything obviously rebellious, surely the capitol would only punish him, if they found out. Which they were unlikely to.

"All right." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I want to know."

Good.

Carlos leaned in. "First, I can confirm that the rumors about District 13 are true. It's very much alive and functions as a headquarters for the rebel elements of Panem. I also know that at least one Tribute has made it there alive, and that more of us may be going there soon."

Ian considered that for a moment, and then had a sip of his drink while he thought. This could still be a trap and District 13 could merely be a codeword for something else entirely. Or it could be true. He'd be better off watching what he said, just in case.

"How have the capitol not noticed a whole District existing and a Tribute escaping?" He sounded a bit sceptical. It almost sounded too good to be true, in some respects.

"Oh, the Capitol knows," Carlos said with confidence. "You see, District 13 used to be the center of nuclear weapons production for Panem. However, it's on the other side of the country from where we are now, which was a clear strategic mistake. District 13 threatened to use its weapons against the Capitol unless the Capitol granted it independence. The Capitol agreed on the condition that it could bomb the surface and pretend that 13 had been completely obliterated. Now, of course I can't prove that District 13 is alive, but I can prove that there is something there that the Capitol doesn't want us to see. If you look at any footage of District 13 the Capitol has, you'll see that it's the same tape looped over and over. There's a bird that flies across one of the corners -- always in the same place, always at regular intervals. The Capitol pretends it's always shooting live, but I'm convinced that it's old footage. Seventy-five years old, I imagine."

Ian sat up straight when Carlos mentioned nuclear weapons. "Manufacturing nuclear weapons is a terrible idea to start with." He knew he didn't have to explain why to a fellow scientist. "But then to give it to one district and not keep control of it themselves is just asking for trouble."

Of course not. Carlos was right there with him: making weapons was not what science was for.

"At least some good came out of it this time," Carlos replied. "According to my information, some of the scientists who revive us after each Arena are sympathetic to us and 13. They're willing to smuggle us out. Unfortunately, we have no idea who's gone to 13 and who's just died permanently," Carlos admitted, "since if anyone who escaped that way gave away the fact that he or she was alive, it could endanger the scientists responsible for his or her escape."

"That's interesting," he said slowly. It was also unprovable - at least until those tributes previously thought dead popped up. He wondered who might be - but then decided that was a bad idea. Best to just assume they were dead. "I suppose we can't tell which scientists are the sympathetic ones."

Carlos shook his head. "But," he went on, "I can tell you who some of the sympathetic Tributes are. Who to go to if you need help -- or if you want to help."

"All right." That would be useful to know. And it might make it easier to tell if Carlos was telling the truth. He leaned forward over the table. "Who are they?"

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