thecapitol | Mission: Capitol Liberation

Entry tags:

Mission: Capitol Liberation

Who| Bucky Barnes, Enjolras, Joan Watson, Punchy, & Marius Pontmercy.
What| Liberation of the idiots.
Where| The Tribute Center
When| January 1st
Warnings/Notes| N/A

This leg of the mission would require more stealth and discretion than anything else. The team would go into the Capitol, making use of the smuggling method the rebels had established and make their way into the Tribute Center. Bucky, Enjolras, and Joan would be provided with elaborate disguises to aid in their infiltration if necessary, otherwise they would be very much on their own. The hovercraft couldn't wait around for them and they would have no back up in case something went wrong.

It wasn't until they were nearly to the Capitol that their targets were revealed. Punchy and Marius. Wait... Punchy and Marius?

Doubts as to their suitability as soldiers aside, the trio's mission was clear. They had to be in and out of there and at the rendezvous point before 2300. It was 0700 when they were dropped off. Plenty of time, right? Right?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's had dreams about this, about Joan with her face painted and her body up against his, and even knowing that it isn't real, that it's a plot to do something else, he can feel his breath get hot and his blood rush. The cocaine ferries it along. Little fireworks go off in his head, synapses like miniature supernovas, pleasure or thrill or just plain adrenalin.

"I should show you my crib." A few hapless ideas scrabble out of his brain and he realizes he should cover her in his jacket, as if he were her boyfriend, the popped collar and the heavy size obscuring her form all the more. Besides, he's sweating, probably from the drugs. "Let's go."

She can tell that she's arousing him, and she wishes she wasn't. This is all an act for her, purely pragmatic. And she knows that for him, a sexually charged situation is something that he has at least thought about. She feels like she's playing him, taking advantage, and she would never do that if she had any other choice.

He moves to wrap his jacket around her, and she presses herself closer.

"I need you to guide me through the party and the lobby," she murmurs into his ear. "I'll guide you once we're outside." She smiles faintly. "I'm taking you to my crib."

"Your crib at the Trib Center? If not my pad's probs on the up." He nods a bit, bringing his arm over her shoulders. He's much taller than her, and he can't help but notice how she fits perfectly, how he wishes that he could just have this moment with her against his chest and forget everything but the pounding of the music in the background and the rush of beautiful numbness in his head.

He follows her once they're outside, even as he wonders what the point is in going anywhere else but here. The cold air flushes his cheeks but he doesn't feel it.

It's dark outside, or as dark as it gets in the middle of a frantic city like Panem. Joan keeps her arm around Punchy's waist, and is trying to look like they're just out for a casual stroll, while at the same time moving relatively quickly. They have an hour to get to the rendezvous, but she wants to make good time in case something comes up to delay them.

"We still have a way to go. And it's not exactly a cakewalk." She glances up at him. "You doing okay?"

"Breezy, shawty. I feel like a baller right now." He taps the side of his nose, pinking with the cold air. "Higher than a motherfucker and still got my skills."

He places his hand in her hair, feeling it in her fingers.

"No..." she says, letting go of his waist so she can take his wrist, try to remove his hand from her head. "It's a wig. It would be bad for me to lose it..."

She wouldn't be quite as concerned if Punchy weren't, as he put it, "higher than a motherfucker." But she's much too familiar with how people can be wrong about their perceptions and motor skills when chemically compromised.

"'Kay..." He whispers, his breath hot and swampy. "We gonna bring more homies, make a party of this?"

The idea that they came just for him is simultaneously flattering and one he can't really wrap his head around. He has images of District Thirteen crashing in and saving everyone, of tidal waves sweeping in instead of curated leaks from the Capitol's stronghold.

"Just one other person. We're going to meet up at a rendezvous spot and then get out of here."

She doesn't want to give him any more specifics than that. If this went bad, and he was captured, it would be better for everyone involved if he had as few details as possible.

Joan spies a clutch of Peacekeepers coming toward them, and turns her head toward Punchy, pressing closer.

"Only one?" Punchy pauses there, although whether it's because his foot has slipped a bit on the thin layer of snow outside or because he has to physically stop moving long enough to accept that fact is unclear. "Is it Dave?"

Then he remembers that he's supposed to be playing a role. "I mean, nah, that homie's too young." He cracks open the door to the Tribute Center as they reach it, ducking out of sight of those Peacekeepers, who seem none the bothered to see Punchy with a girl again.

Edited 2015-01-25 00:52 (UTC)

"Way too young," she agrees with a smile that's as much of a disguise as her hair and makeup.

As they enter the Tower, there's a gaggle of girls who catch sight of Punchy. They squeal and bounce and flutter over to fawn over him.

Just great.

As starved for attention as Punchy perpetually is, and as spaced out as the coke's made him, even he's not thrilled to see all these teenagers and twenty-somethings bounding over to him. Especially not when the presence of a woman he actually likes, actually cares for, seems to make all their makeup seem garish, their clothing cheap, their hairspray choking, their bodies too nubile and Barbie-ish.

"This real estate's taken, bizzles. I be with a new bitch tonight." It occurs to him, dimly, like a voice from down a street, that they might recognize Joan from television, up this close. But he doesn't know what to do about it, pauses in this frozen dilemma without covering her up or standing in front of her.

Luckily Joan has not frozen (and has the presence of mind not to roll her eyes at being referred to as "bitch"). When the girls flock over, she turns, throws her arms around Punchy's neck, and presses her face into where his neck meets his shoulder, nuzzling and kissing.

Of course she would never do this if she didn't have to, if their lives didn't depend on her not being recognized. She resolves to talk with Punchy about it once they can do so safely.

"Yeah? Oh come on, Punchy, we know you're into threesomes," one coos, reaching forward to touch his face. He tries to keep walking but they block him, getting in the way like clutter in a drain. He tries to navigate around but he doesn't have the wherewithal.

"What do we do, shawty?" he whispers to her.

She has to think fast, and work with what they have. They're not going to just vanish, nor just make all these girls disappear.

"Pick one," she murmurs against his neck. "Bring her up with us."

He wants to say that they look the same, all with the exact same style of makeup and striped hairstyles, that they're blending together in his eyes because he can't seem to focus for more than a third of a second, but instead he just grabs one by the wrist and starts going. "A'ight."

By instinct, he goes for the stairs instead of the elevator. The elevator's a last resort for him ever since his Avoxing.

The stairs are probably safer for them. No box that can trap them with a simple flip of a switch. Still, it's awkward with three of them. The girl is giggling and pawing at Punchy, and Joan would bet she's just about as high as he is, so the three of them are not making great time getting upstairs.

"When we get to your room," Joan murmurs against his ear, "we ditch her, and get out. We need to get to the rendezvous."

Punchy, easily distracted and despite the tension of the situation feeling good, as if everything can be accomplished in less time than it realistically can be, is also having difficulty keeping his hands off the Capitol girl who's throwing herself at him. It seems every landing between floors they're pausing to jam tongues down each others' mouths, something he doesn't seem to be excluding Joan from. It's only with her urging that he remembers what they're doing and the limits of a temporal existence.

His skin feels like it's writhing on his muscle, his eyes too wide, his upper lip twitching, and when they reach the sixth floor he can't seem to figure out the key and so he actually kicks the door in.

Joan keeps her face buried against his neck, avoiding his kisses. She doesn't want to go there unless it's absolutely necessary, and at the moment she's pretty sure it's not. He can concentrate his kisses on the other woman; maybe that will help keep her attention away from Joan, away from what's really going on.

She doesn't expect the kick to the door, though. She gives a short gasp of shock, looking at the door. Then she realizes that she's uncovered her face, and immediately turns back to Punchy.

Dammit.

She pulls his head to her and kisses him hard.

He kisses back, not realizing what compelled her but not really caring. His breath is hot, her lips soft, and the other girl they brought is half-wrapped around his waist with her teeth on his neck. The three of them, chained together like some chimera of people, stumble into the District Six Suite.

"Now what?"

She moves her mouth to his ear again, moving like she's nibbling on the earlobe, but actually making very little contact. She needs to rein this in again, somehow, and fast.

"Tell her you're going to the bathroom. And you want her to be naked and ready by the time you get back. Sound sexy when you say it. Then we get out of here."

"Shawty, I gotta shake it a bit. Get yo' fine ass up in my bedroom, the big one for a champ. And be sure you's down to the skinny when I get in there."

He claps a hand on the girl's ass as she, giggling, stumbles down the hallway. Apparently he doesn't need to sound terribly sexy, or she's turned on quite a lot by the blunted, distracted cocaine affect. He turns back to Joan, eyes all questions behind the glassiness.

She's thinking as fast as she can. The cameras were still on them. They need a narrative so they don't tip the watchers off to what is actually going on.

The one she settles on requires more kissing. And she has to look happy about it. She's going to apologize when they're safely on their way to 13.

She steps in, pulls his head down roughly, and kisses him again, hard.

"We're getting out of here," she whispers against his lips. "Pretend I'm taking you off to have sex with you, one on one, somewhere else. Be eager."

She parts, gives him her best seductive smile, and speaks in a lilting tone.

"There's got to be a back door to the tower. Somewhere where we won't be swarmed by more ... fangirls."

"Avox quarters," he says quickly, and for a moment he seems entirely lucid. He knows it would probably be a decent cover, him taking her to that private place full of mutes to make out knowing no one would tell on them. But it makes him nauseous, and beneath her hands and lips he shudders at the idea of going back there for anything but to commune with his silent allies.

"They don't like Tribs seeing the Avoxes before they mouths is healed up. They got a tunnel to burn rubber when they truck 'em in." He gets vacant again, distracted by her hair, by her neck. She told him not to play with her hair, so he doesn't, but he lets himself get lost in the image of it. "Elevator."

Even without the shudder, Joan knows how difficult this must be for him, how important the Avoxes are to him She adds it to her mental list of things to discuss with him when this is all over, and her next kiss is gentle, meant to comfort, to call his attention back to the matter at hand.

"Take me there."

"A'ight." He stumbles for the elevator and the whole world seems to spin. He can feel the crash coming, the bottoming out of his brain, knows in maybe twenty minutes and god knows he can't tell time that he's going to be completely useless.

There's a code he can punch into the elevator and then it's taking them down, down fast, and he's not much of an actor now because he's shaking and with his inhibitions lowered he looks scared.

Mission: Capitol Liberation

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