thecapitol | like a caged animal

Entry tags:

like a caged animal

Who| jack + you!
What| frustration and object-throwing from one of your newest tributes
Where| rooftop!
When| today idek
Warnings/Notes| i'm brand spanking new here so i have an extremely tenuous grasp of the setting/game dynamics. if i heck it up, don't hesitate to let me know! warning #2: jack swears like a sailor, so my brackets do too. my bad.

[ there's not a single thing about this fucking place that jack doesn't hate.

which blows, because if you think about it, her kids'd love it here. badass training facilities, better suites than jack's seen in her whole damn life, and a whole city watching to see exactly what you can do. watching to cheer for you. they'd get the biggest fucking kick out of that.

but they're not here, are they? of course they're not. that's the catch, see - that whole goddamn time, she just knew there was gonna be a catch. when does she ever get to be that okay? she doesn't. but for like, five fucking seconds? she almost thought it was possible. guess she was just getting set up for this. this stupid place that her kids'd love but jack can't stand. it's too public, too much on display. she hates being on display. it was bad enough on pragia, when the only ones eyeing her business were scientists and the kids she was gonna kill. even the rooms, those big stupid fancy suites with the wide open windows - they're too big and too bright and they put her right on edge.

that's why she's here on the roof now - the highest vantage point in the immediate vicinity. it's a garden, or something like it. green and rich and useless. it's too calm. she has to get out of here, has to do something. she steps over to the edge of the rooftop now, hands planting hard on the railing, and she leans with every intent to get a good look from above quite how far straight down this wall actually drops, but her forehead smacks hard into some kind of a goddamn barrier.

she recoils, glaring at the air where the barrier has to be for a second before exhaling a sharp breath and slamming it hard with the side of her fist. this really is just a fucking cage, isn't it?

a frustrated growl builds in her throat as she turns off to storm off back toward the exit, but she never quite gets that far. see, someone apparently thought this garden would be a peachy goddamn place for a picnic, and those tongueless fucks haven't quite swept in to clean up the dishes they left behind. so before she even quite thinks, jack's hand closes around one of the nearly-empty wine glasses, and she whirls with a raw, frustrated shout to fling it as hard as she can toward the barrier surrounding the roof. the glass collides and shatters, fragments scattering across a small patch of the rooftop.

and she stands there for a second, glaring and breathing hard. ] This is bullshit, [ is her tense-jawed declaration to the open air. because as far as she knows, she's still alone up here. ]

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She's not alone, though it's understandable that she thinks she is. Molotov is curled in a large, rounded chair with an attached canopy, facing out over the city, so she's not easily visible. After finally having gotten her hands on a tablet (getting a pen and paper in this place was a bitch and a half, she'd learned), Molotov decided that the rooftop was a good place to try and get some work done.

When you're one of the few tributes willing to embrace your newfound fame, there's a lot of work to be done. Mostly endless emails.

In fact, Molotov doesn't even peek out until the other woman speaks, at which point she peers around the edge of the canopy and gives her a dry look.

"It is, but throwing things at the forcefields will not change that. I suggest getting drunk instead. Bar's downstairs."

Jack snaps around to face the woman who spoke, eyeing her with a look equal parts guarded and appraising. Then, after a second, she offers, "That part's next." And with a hint of a scowl, "Better to break shit up here than faces down there."

There's a snort before Molotov clicks her tablet off to properly sit on the edge of her chair. "It's hardly worth it," she says casually, as if discussing beating people into a pulp is a perfectly normal part of her life. Then again, she did threaten to decapitate her Escort with a vase, so.

"The Peacekeepers will be on you before you can take a swing. Then you're just going to get hauled off and probably tortured or something. It is better to just wait for the arena to come, then you can smash in all the body parts you want."

"I'd like to see them try it." Though she sounds mutinous, there's something grudging about it, making it safe to assume Molotov's logic makes sense no matter what Jack may say.

"Oh, da, yeah, I was the same when I got here," Molotov responds, crossing her legs and lighting a cigarette. She's dressed more conservatively than most days -- after all, she's not doing anything -- but her clothes still don't leave a lot to the imagination. Also she looks like an idiot, wearing a white lace crop top, black leggings with shiny red cheetah print, and white stilettos.

Is this something the stylists did to her, or did she choose this herself? The world may never know.

"It's a numbers game, though. You can make a dent, you know, but when there's a hundred, two hundred, of them and only one of you, eventually they will overpower you. Also, they have guns and we don't." Molotov stands up just enough to reach one of the outlying wine glasses and polishes off what's in it. "So, you know. Probably not worth it, especially since they will still put you in the arena either way, and it is best to go in whole."

"If they'd fucking fight fair," she grumbles. They took away her biotics, hell if she knows how. If they gave them back for even five minutes, she could take out a hundred or more of them with her bare hands - anyone who wanted a piece of her.

As it is, though, she knows when she's outnumbered. Neutered like a goddamn house-pet.

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" Comparatively, Jack almost sounds conversational with that one.

"Asking for a fair fight here is like asking for the moon on a chain," Molotov snorts, placing the glass back down and then striding over with her hand held out for a shake. "Molotov Cocktease, District 6. And you are?"

[The roof was also Garrus' favourite place to hangout, a nice place where he could sit quietly, drink his beer, and watch the city without being disturbed. Since he was always on film, might as well make it the most boring video feed in the Capitol. Except for that familiar voice yelling and breaking things, that was new.

Taking his beer and wandering over to the source of the commotion he was surprised to see Jack. This made things a whole lot more interesting to see her here that was damn sure. ]

Drinking the alcohol, not smashing against the anti-suicide barrier works better usually.

[ now that's a familiar voice. jack whirls on the turian with a scowl. ] I'll break whatever the hell I want, [ she informs him, eyes narrowing. ] Unless you want to try and stop me.

You know, surprisingly, I'm going to choose no. [ Since he's going to choose life instead of pissing her off further. ]

So, what's pissed you off about this place?

Try asking what hasn't, it's a shorter list. [ but she doesn't sound quite as acidic - probably because he didn't rise to her challenge. ]

I'm guessing that those few things are on my list as well. [He's not surprised Jack is pissed, he's still on edge about being constantly monitored and filmed all the time. ]

I didn't think they'd actually be stupid enough to bring you here.

Yeah, well. They took my fucking biotics - not sure how the hell that's possible. [ she's really just bitching now, because she has all of this pissed-off energy that he's not quite being obnoxious enough for her to fling at him. ]

I'm not surprised, they did the same thing to Shepard and Thane. They took away my widow so I guess we all have something to be pissed about. [ He'll finish the beer in his hand and offer her the bottle. ]

Not the best thing but it smashes pretty damn well.

[ she damn near reaches for it, but instead she's crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one leg. then she jerks her head toward the barrier in gesture. ]

It's all you. [ be pissed with jack. it feels so good. ]

[He'll watch jack for a moment, trying to figure out of she actually wants him to chuck the bottle. Then decides why not and takes a step before throwing it at the barrier. Amazingly is shatters on impact and the little pieces seem to fizzle against the barrier before dissolving into nothing. ]

[It's the sound of smashing that draws Ruffnut out from her hiding place in some decorative bushes. The scrawny blond girl appears like a rabbit from the leaves and branches with stray twigs sticking out of her thick hair.]

We breaking stuff?

[this is said with a hopeful but crooked grin]

[ jack glances sharply to the source of the footsteps and voice, eyes narrowed in an apprasing glare for a long second before the corner of her mouth lifts in the barest of conspiratorial grins.

her answer doesn't come in words, but instead, in the act of snatching a small dessert plate and overhand-pitching it at the barrier much like the first glass. ]

YEAH!

[Ruffnut pumps her fists in the air and scrambles over to pick up a bench. It's heavier then she suspected and it throws her off balance. After a stumble and a thrust she pitches the metal bench over the edge and watches it bounce off the force field and hit the ground with a loud crash. Not much damage but it's dented and bent now.]

It's about time! Hiccup told me to behave but it's been forever since I blew something up and I can't stand it anymore!

[ jack watches the girl fling the bench in the corner of her eye, her fingers twitching through the mnemonics to access the biotics she's no longer got. that reminder has her upper lip twitching, so it's time to grab a garbage can and hurl it open-end first out over the edge. much like the bench, it bounces and lands with a loud clatter, but unlike the bench, it scatters a good half-can full of garbage in the process. ]

The fuck kind of name is Hiccup?

[ it's both belated and offhanded, not to mention technically the first words she's said to ruffnut so far. ]

[Ruffnut was casting her gaze around for something else to break and settled on a statue of a woman with wings perched among some flowers. It took her a moment to uproot it and she held it over head with both hands.]

It's what we Vikings call the runt of the litter. He's my chief now that he's all grown up and sort of cool.

[Then with a roar that would make her ancestors proud she ran for the edge and hurled the gaudy statue through the air. It shattered into four pieces upon impact with the shield and when it bounced back and hit the roof it shattered even more.]

[ that effort has jack standing back a little, arms crossing as she lifts her chin. ]

I don't know where the hell you came from, but kid, you're not half bad. [ what's that? is that mild approval? don't get to used to it. ]

[She grins a crooked grin and runs her long fingers through her hair.]

I'm Ruffnut, Dragon Rider from the Isle of Berk.

[After a moment of hesitation she adds with less enthusiasm]

District Seven, but that's just where they put me.

[She shoots a glance at the ground indicating the Capitol as if Jack couldn't guess. The sound of utter disdain should indicate Ruffnut couldn't give a flying crap about what District she's in. She'll always be a girl from Berk]

Shoved my ass in Six. [ the disdain's echoed twofold. if they ever actually send her to six, she'll show them why the fuck they shouldn't be cheering her name. ]

So far as I can tell the only difference it makes it what color your stupid outfit will be when they put you in the arena or send you to parties.

Unless you get really lucky and end up in a district with people you like...

[Then her face falls before twisting into a scowl.]

Oh...six. Oh gods, the mentor in your district ate me in my first arena. Good luck with that.

[Loki is moving about the roof and he has his arms folded over his chest. He's managed to obtain a long black coat, a green tee, and black jeans. He feels like himself again (he misses the piece on his head so much, it identified him). He hears the wineglass shatter, then approaches her. ]

Temper, temper. I mean, not that I can judge. You're not wrong about this. It's exactly as you described.

[He's...considerably less foul-mouthed than she is, so he just hangs onto her words and agrees. He actually thinks this place is way beyond that, though. It's awful. It's torture. But it was something he was good at. ]

Though if you want to keep throwing things at the barrier, you're welcome. It's futile. It doesn't break, and it doesn't go down at any point.

[ she looks to loki when he speaks, half a glare still in place, and her hands close to fists. ]

Who the hell says I'm trying to break it? [ but she's arguing just to argue, an outlet for her frustration. ] If I were, I'd use more than a fucking glass.

[Loki couldn't have rolled his eyes any more aggressively than he was at that exact moment. ]

Whatever. Then what are you hoping to accomplish? Mindless destruction?

[ He could get behind that. ]

Screw the system - destroy their glassware! [ Yeah. He's this type of person. ] What is it?

[ he's gonna give her shit? fine, then fuck, she might as well give him the truth. ] I'm smashing shit, [ she says as she seizes hold of a nearby garden statue (an angelic figure, though she can't tell if that's ironic). ] To take the fucking edge off, [ she continues, and flings the statue headlong to shatter against the barrier much like the glass. ] So I don't have to kill someone.

Oooh, someone's got a bug for destruction. I like it, I have to say.

[ He shrugs his shoulders. He isn't about to get on the Capitol's bad side intentionally, though. He figured they probably treated problems really poorly in the arena. It would be hard enough to have to deal with the other tributes without having someone with a giant red button pressing it repeatedly. ]

But that's what the arena's for. It's like fish in a barrel in there. We come back if we die in there, too.

Edited 2014-08-21 04:04 (UTC)

[Charles had been sitting on the opposite side of the roof. He was holding a beer in his hand, drinking it quite slowly. He was relaxing, at least until the sounds of cursing and shattered glass started. He broke himself from his thoughtful pace. He was thinking about Raven, Erik...everyone form home, really, which he often did when he was alone. Sometimes it made him feel less lonely, and other days it made him feel worse. Today, it brought him a little peace knowing they weren't here, still, even with the new arrivals. He stands from where he is, moves towards the sound of the noise. ]

I know it is, but...what are you hoping to accomplish?

How about 'none of your damn business'? [ she snaps by reflex, but charles doesn't get more than an appraising glance before she's eyeing the barrier again - or rather, the place where she knows the barrier is. ] I've been here less than a week and I already know it's stupid as fuck to try to accomplish anything.

Ah, so just breaking things. Maybe you should throw something they won't make you pay to replace.

[ He holds an empty bottle out towards her. He didn't like the idea of just throwing things around, really, but if you were going to do it, at least don't make yourself in debt to the Capitol. They were unpleasant enough without a debt. ]

[ she considers telling him exactly what finger she'll jam through their eye sockets if they show up at her door to collect, but then he's offering the bottle and - well okay, first she takes a long goddamn look at it, as if taking it means they've got some kind of ~truce~ bullshit, but then she's seizing the bottle and whirling to fling it at the wall now too. ]

So what, [ she asks, surveying her work a second before turning back to charles. ] You come all the fuckin' way up here just to drink alone?

Yes, I do. [ He doesn't sound like he's joking, either. Yeah, this place inspires one to drink. ] I feel like the cameras aren't here, even though I know better.

[ He knows where they aren't, but he also knows it would be suspicious if he was constantly off camera somewhere. ]

No, really? And here was me thinking it was all butterflies and rainbows.

[ Riley likes to come up here sometimes. It's better than being down in the streets and seeing everything down there up close. Up here it's isolated. Nothing's private, but it's as good as they'll get. And she can even lean over the edge sometimes and pretend that she'd get to fly or crack open her skull like an egg on the pavement if she leaned just a little farther. It's as comforting a thought as any, around here. ]

Nice ink. You new?

Guess so. [ but it's almost casual, or at least, as casual as jack can be when she's this kind of pissed off. the girl won more than a few points with the ink comment, even if she probably hasn't got a fucking clue.

jack crosses her arms loosely, looking the girl over. ] So what, you the welcome wagon?

"Well, at least you've figured it out early." Diana sits on the cool floor some distance away, several empty crisp packets and two drained water bottles beside her.

"Remind me not to wander up here barefoot for awhile though." Wiggling her baretoes she glances meaningfully at the little shards of glass now flecked around near the edge.

"Remind yourself. I've got better shit to do," says Jack with her upper lip just slightly curled. She can't tell if that last comment was fishing for some kind of apology, or maybe an offer to clean that shit up, but Jack's offering neither.

Diana raises her eyebrows skeptically. "What, like, throwing stuff at the barrier?"

Rolling her eyes she drains the last of her water bottles. "You know, if you want to wreck things there's a training room with knives and practice dummies."

"Wrecking shit on their terms," she echoes back her interpretation, more than a little dry. "I'm thinking that defeats the purpose."

A shrug. "Alright. You want use 'throwing glass' as your big 'stick it to the man' gesture, go for it. It's your life."

People on the rooftop are not unusual. Even people on the rooftop throwing glass at the force field-- it has to be glass, of course. Glass and ceramic shatters, and the fragments spark and burn away. A beer can would come hurtling back at concussion velocity, bounced back by its own explosive impact.

Nothing about Jack would ever be described as 'usual,' and there was no one Shepard could have less expected to see when she came up for air.

"Shit," In hindsight, not the smartest first word to a newly-kidnapped teammate already in a violent mood, but in Shepard's defense... Well, look who it is, "Jack? How long you been here?"

That voice has her stopping short with her next throw, so congrats, Shep - you just saved an innocent garden statue this evening. A slow grin tugs at the corners of Jack's mouth despite herself, and she turns around to face the Commander now, planting the statue vaguely in the garden with one hand before her arms cross over her chest. "Well shit," she says. "It's the Queen of the Girl Scouts again. You'd think by now I wouldn't be so damn surprised."

"Well, you know me. Find the biggest disaster, and there I am," She truly is a hero to all statuary everywhere, but this particular cast-cement cherub in particular, "It's good to see you. Sorry about all the uh...Crazy, bloodthirsty assholes."

She says it with the full weight of a bone-dry sarcasm. It's not as if their life is particularly free of those kinds of people most of the time-- but she is sorry, for what little it's worth.

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like a caged animal

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so sorry for the delay!

no problem!

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so sorry for the delay. and also for jack.........

it's okay! I enjoy backtagging

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