thecapitol | Cellblock Tango Redux

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Cellblock Tango Redux

The holding facilities have been modified since the last time the prisoners were held there. There are roughly twenty or so holding cells, ten on either side of a long hallway, facing across from one another. The cells themselves are rather spacious, but they've been divided into smaller sub-cells with a forcefield acting as a barrier. Up to four prisoners can be housed in one of these smaller cells.

Those who never made it out of the prison have been branded and are housed in these cells beginning on Friday night. They can verbally communicate with each other, but physical contact is restricted. And remember, your words and actions are under constant surveillance by Peacekeepers.

Those who escaped and were recaptured will be put into cells in this same cellblock. They will not be branded, but instead will be cuffed.

All characters will be occasionally removed from their individual cells and taken elsewhere for interrogation. Some will be injured. Others will not. There does not seem to be much rhyme or reason to who is physically punished and who is not.

The guards are even less friendly than they were before. Now they are armed to the teeth and there are even more of them. There are K9 units posted at either end of the hallway at all times. Privacy is a thing of the past, but at least it's not forever. Right? Right?

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Capture had always been a possibility. Most of him had known that, but there's always one part that expects otherwise, expects to win through because he's him. It's the stupid certainty of youth, which's gotten quieter and weaker with Roland's age but never quite died. Roland sits in the middle of his little section of the cell, elbows resting on his drawn up knees, and determinedly pays no particular attention to that small, surprised part of his mind.

Mostly, what he's paying attention to is Susannah. Susannah, the point of this whole venture, and the one important thing in damned Panem that he's got left. A little attention goes to Harley, too, but those glances are briefer. Warier. Often confined to the corners of his eyes. She took the brand with the rest of them, sits here trapped, same as the rest, but in the end he's certain she did it for Detta.

Still, when he speaks, eying the ceiling in a vain attempt to spot the Capitol's cameras, he's almost addressing both of them. "They probably don't mean to kill us."

"Well of course not." Harley snaps sounding decidedly irritated compared to her usual chipper self. "They coulda killed us back in the hallways. It'll be much more fun to pitch us all back into the arena." She reasoned and then sighed.

"Well...being a mentor was nice while it lasted. I'd like to think I helped some people. Maybe I can be more useful with my feet on the ground so to speak." quickly adding "No offense Susie Q."

Because Harley never met a joke in poor taste she didn't like.

Susannah groans, partly from Harley's awful joke, partly from the pain she's in from when the peacekeepers roughed her up in front of the other two. She feels like her entire body is one big bruise--about the only place they didn't hit her was her head and that's only because she's had enough head trauma that any more would make her useless for interrogation, as that brick last arena had showed.

"The last I saw of my feet or legs, they were on the ground, all smashed up," she says, hoarsely. That had happened about a day after she'd been brought in, when they'd first interrogated her. She suspected the Peacekeepers probably regretted removing them (without anesthetic) so early on--otherwise, they could have done it in front of Roland and Harley.

She shifts, a little, in her corner. Her bladder aches, but she's already been informed that her toilet privileges have been removed. (They'd heard what she'd told Mindy about the last time she'd been in jail, hadn't they? Of course they had.)

He watches Susannah, paying attention to the way she speaks more than the words themselves. What is he going to say to that, after all? There's a place and time for sympathy - here, where anger is one of the only defenses they've got, it might actually make things worse. "I meant execution," he shakes his head. "Formally. Public execution, to set an example. But these brands look like they want to make a longer example of us. I think we're just important enough that they want us 'on the ground', rather than quietly killed in a pathetic attempt at rescue."

"If it's anything like last time they made an example out of us, prepare for the public opinion to be harsh." Harley sighed and thumped her head on the wall. "Fickle fickle fame. It's just not fair with how much charm I put out there that all it takes is a little burning to make them all forget how much they loved me."

After wallowing in self pity for a moment she huffed and turned her attention to Roland's side of the room.

"You know, I've broken into and out of jail a ton and I never got busted so fast. Was it really so hard for you to just have a little faith that maybe just MAYBE I was putting Susannah's needs first?"

"Nothing I haven't already been through," Susannah says under her breath, even though she hadn't been around last time examples had been made of tributes. She isn't thinking of that, she's thinking of her life before Roland came into it. The worst had been in the South when she'd been signing up people to vote, but hateful people like that existed in the North too and if her daddy's money had mostly shielded her from it, it hadn't completely.

She shifts again, crossing her legs and gritting her teeth. "Ain't like you gave him reason," she says, roughly. She rubs her forehead.

"And let you alone to give her what you think she needs?" He doesn't look at Harley as he talks, watching Susannah instead. "No. Faith has to be earned, and you've lost your rights to it." His tone, light and dismissive, gets a little more weight to it as he moves on to what really matters here. "Susannah? Feeling alright?"

Beyond the obvious, he doesn't say, because that's - well - obvious.

Harley huffed but despite herself she couldn't help but look hurt.

Shrinking back into the farthest corner her cell she listened quietly and reflected upon why she was here in the first place. She'd begged Susannah, thrown herself at Susie's feet so to speak.

She'd wheeled and dealed, even spending her hard earned sponsorship money on Susannah and what was the result? Cold, bitter indifference.

She'd even admitted she was wrong despite not believing it.

And now she was here beaten even more senseless then usual, her comfortable position as mentor almost certainly thrown away and for what?

More cold bitter indifference.

Wrapping her arms around herself Harley felt sick as it dawned on her that she was falling back into bad habits. If she had anything left in her stomach it might have come back up.

Instead she tried to focus on her blurry memory of the attempted rescue, perhaps there was some information she had overlooked. Some trick they could still use.

"What do you think, Gunslinger?" she growls at him, voice going rougher with every word. "Lord, no wonder the two of you got caught if you were both pickin' fights like that. I ain't nevah seen a stupider pair o' honkies in mah entire life. Now shet the fuck up, I'm tryin' not t' piss mahself."

Edited 2014-08-14 01:34 (UTC)

Shit.

It's not as if he doesn't understand why Detta's coming out now. That part of her is necessary, perhaps here more than ever, but given Susannah's recent worries about keeping control of her it's not very encouraging. And recreating her experience in the jails of her world, one of the ones that'd effected her so much that he'd been able to use it while training her, that's hardly going to help.

"Go in the corner, Susannah. Better than soiling yourself. We'll move in front of you as well as we can while you do it." He glances toward Harley, making sure she knows 'we' partly means her, and frowns at what he sees. Shrunk in the corner, arms wrapped around herself, she looks to him as if her attention's very far away. He tries to catch her eyes and jerks his head toward Susannah's corner, hoping Harley's paying at least enough attention to be useful.

Edited 2014-08-14 02:14 (UTC)

Oh, she was paying attention. She was far away but the growling sound of Detta was enough to drag her back into the moment.

It took her a moment to collect herself and she rose to her feet with a wince gripping at her ribs. She was familiar with the feeling of cracked ribs but it didn't make it easier.

"Yeah well, he started it." She muttered shuffling into position and trying to make herself a big as possible. The best she could do was square her shoulders and stick out her ample curves. Thank Capitol dining for her extra padding.

All her limbs feel like they're on fire, but they were hitting more for pain than damage, so she peels of the prison regulation pants (tied off at the knee) and underpants, and stumps her way over to the corner to do her business as quick as possible. The smell of it assaults her nose, but it's not all over her legs (what remains of 'em) so that's something at least.

Once she's done, with her bottoms back on and sitting as far away from the corner puddle as she can, she says, "Thank you. Both of you."

She doesn't just mean for shielding her dignity.

Roland just nods. He has an idea of what she means, but if being grateful for one of the sorriest escape attempts he's ever been a part of is keeping her voice as Susannah's voice, her mind as Susannah's mind, then he's not going to disagree with her. He's not going to respond to Harley's childish response with anything more than a reproachful look, either. No matter how tempting it is to find a vent for this whole situation there, he is not a child and bickering like one won't do anyone any good. Not even the 'peacekeepers', who patrol the hall every now and then but don't seem to care about the noise any particular cell is making.

"You said you've fallen out of favor with the Capitol before," he says to Harley. It isn't something he's too concerned about, but it's better not to fall into their own thoughts here, keep themselves distracted. "How dangerous is that going to be?"

Harley accepts the smudge of gratitude gracefully by promptly falling to her knees, then flopping onto the floor.

"My everything hurts." She whines curling up to clutch at her ribs." She endured worse but there's no reason for her to suffer with quiet dignity like her cohorts.

At the question she turns her face to look up at Roland with a sardonic stare.

"Well that depends on what you consider dangerous sport. After all by my mental count there should be an arena starting soon, it's been awhile since the last one. So I would guess sponsorships are gonna be few and far between for anyone labeled a traitor. Just like last time."

Here she rolled onto her back and adopted a more casual pose tucking her hands behind her head.

"It'll be worse if we make it back to the Capitol. If you thought it was annoying before being hounded by fans and watched everywhere you go for being a celebrity? Now imagine everywhere you go in the city people who were kind and friendly and supportive of you now scowl at you, glare at you and treat you like you strangled their grandma in front of them. The fickle hearts of the Capitol citizens can be more cruel then any punishment they can throw at us in here!"

Of course that was Harley's opinion, she loved the Capitol citizens and having them turn on her so sharply had been a painful experience.

"I bet they'll take that drink they named after me off the menu again. I probably won't be able to drum up any good sponsors either. All those old farts I took for a good time just to send out pies and medical supplies will treat me like dirt."

"If they let you stay a mentor," Susannah says. "After this, they might just shove you back into the arena with us."

In fact, that sounded more than likely to her. It would probably hurt Harley as much as seeing her legs smashed had done to Susannah: all that hard work for nothing. Part of her even pities her former friend, just a bit.

Roland pays fairly close attention to Harley - that is, until it becomes clear what it is she's truly worried about losing. He snorts a little, leans back on his hands and goes back to trying to spot any hidden cameras. "Might do you some good. Remind you what the people here really think of us."

Her lips tighten into a line and her eyes narrow casting an irritated look in his direction.

"The people of the Capitol are just that Sargent Sourpuss. They are people. They're just people who have grown up with an oppressive government who has successfully brainwashed most of them. You wouldn't hate a child because their parents taught them all the wrong lessons would you? The ones you need to be angry at are the coherent ones in charge who know exactly what they are doing."

Closing her eyes she took a deep breath which made her wince again but she didn't reach for where it hurt. The air came out as a sigh.

"Besides, being around all that violence and chaos isn't exactly the most stabilizing of environments for a girl like me. Tends to bring out the worst in me clearly."

"It really, really does," Susannah agrees. She isn't moving now that she doesn't have to worry about her bladder. Moving hurts too much. "I can state that for a fact. Well, you'd have heard it or heard of it. She held her own with Detta."

She closes her eyes. "As for the rest... that's somethin' to keep in mind for the future, I guess." For when they bring the Capitol down. Being stuck here in jail has only made her more sure of that goal.

"Keep it in mind. Keep this in mind, too: 'people' aren't as innocent as you want to believe. Those who'd fawn over you one moment and spit on you the next live in this place, same as we do. They hear the same lies we do, and they choose to believe them. People will believe anything they're told, so long as it doesn't impact them. If a lie is cruel to others but safer for them, they'll chew it up and ask for more."

Now he's said his piece on that, Roland can think on the rest of what's been said. What it says about Susannah's betrayer doesn't quite fit with what he knows of her. "Violence and chaos. You'd stay away from it, if you could?" He frowns at Susannah, a silent question. She's the woman's friend, or was. Surely that doesn't fit with what Susannah knows of her.

If Harley wasn't so irritated with him she might shoot him a scathing look. Instead she opted just not to glance in his direction at all.

"It brings out the worst in everyone chuckles. Of course it brings out the worst in me. The only difference is I enjoy it. And I know it's bad for me and everyone around me but that doesn't matter. An addict can logic their way out of an addiction. I got out of all that mess and even if no one cares It's given me alot of time to put my energy to helping people. Especially people I care about."

As much as she appreciated the acknowledgment from earlier it wasn't enough to sooth her hurt feelings entirely it seemed.

Sadly, Susannah still has her eyes shut, so she doesn't see Roland's frown.

"Some of us have better will power, Harley," she says, "and some of us don't--" She pauses for a moment and amends what she was going to say for better accuracy, "Don't want to enjoy it. It's like if I were tryin' to quit drinkin' and you were my drunk of a friend shovin' a beer in my hand."

closed to susannah and harley, open if anyone wants to talk to Roland afterward

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