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

"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.

She's seen people crash before. Too many times, actually. So when she sees that slight stumble in his step, sees him shaking, sees the fear on his face...she knows they don't have a lot of time. It can disrupt their narrative, but that's a very far second to her primary concern.

Him.

She steps close, wraps her arms around him, meets his eyes.

"Hold on to me. It's going to be okay."

Normally he can fortify himself against the memories, but the drugs make everything clear, as if his psyche is clear icewater. He closes his eyes and breathes through his mouth, letter her hold on to him as he trembles and tells himself that it'll only be a few seconds until he's out of the elevator.

But then, forgetting the pretense, he can't help but try and warn her. "Joanie, they're going to catch you, they're gonna Avox us both- I-"

He clasps her and shakes.

She pulls him closer, holds him tighter, cradles the back of his head with one hand.

"No they won't. I promise. We're going to be fine."

She pauses for a moment, thinking. This is a mess. Things are unraveling, they have very little time, they need to get out of the building, they need to change their tactics.

"Can we find Avox jumpsuits to change into?"

"Yeah. Yeah, church. I know where it all is. Plus my homies got us." He did this for months, after all.

His scalp sweats against the back of her hand, and for a moment he just breathes into her shoulder.

The elevator doors open to a massive laundry room, where Avoxes bustle around with the vacancy of hopelessness. They somehow seem smaller than normal humans, despite taking up the same space. None of them even look up at Joan and Punchy, because it's none of their business.

"Dawg, I need jumpers and an alibi," he says to one of the Avoxes, his voice shaky. "And one of you mofos needs to shave me. ASAP. Thanks and props to you. Time's come."

He's got blue streaks in his hair. They can't hope to blend in now.

The Avoxes snap to help him with a sort of fervor that they never show with other Tributes and certainly not with citizens.

He turns to Joan. "I gotta be able to wipe this footage remote when we get back, or we- or they-"

The Avoxes will be culpable.

Joan doesn't know if wiping the footage will even be possible. She hopes so, because these Avoxes were in serious, lethal danger if not. And she thinks there's a chance the Rebellion plans on covering their tracks that way. She'll do what she can to see it happens, but she can't promise him it will happen.

Except that's totally what she does.

"Absolutely. I promise." Her expression shows nothing but conviction. Lying is a skill that way predates Panem.

When an Avox hands her a jumpsuit she heads for a somewhat obscured corner and starts shedding her costume, beginning with the ridiculously red and curly wig. The dress is tight and complicated, but she made sure she could both dress and undress quickly and without help, so she manages to peel it off in less than a minute. It has a small pocket sewn into the skirts that contains a plain pair of black shoes and a pack of wipes. She takes off her heels and puts on the shoes, then goes to work wiping all her makeup off.

Sensing the importance of the situation, one of the Avoxes has already gotten Punchy's hair sheared off by the time Joan's in her Avox outfit. Despite being high still, Punchy seems able to work with the teamwork of the Avoxes as if he were a fish sliding into the same current as the rest of a school. He gets dressed extremely quickly despite the shaking, despite his difficulty keeping his eyes focused, with an automatic simplicity.

"A'ight. I'm good to go." He looks at Joan, still hapless, face still flushed, still dizzy and trembling.

Joan has drawn her hair back and tied it in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, hoping it looks sufficiently different and sufficiently mousy to pull this off. But when she looks at Punchy, her hair is the least of her concerns.

She crosses to him and takes his hands in hers.

"It's not far. Once we get to the meeting place, we can rest a little."

She squeezes his hands.

"Can you do this for me?"

Mission: Capitol Liberation

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