Mission: Capitol Liberation

[etcircenses]

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?

Comments

[culturalappropriation]

"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.

[formersurgeon]

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.

[culturalappropriation]

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.

[formersurgeon]

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?"

[culturalappropriation]

"Anything for you, Joanie. I can do anything..." He trails off, eyes fixed on something on the far wall, then snaps back to attention and looks at both their hands.

[formersurgeon]

"Hey."

She reaches up, cups his cheek, lifts his face so his eyes meet hers.

"You're going to follow me. Okay? Ignore everything else, just focus on me."

[culturalappropriation]

He nods, breathless and dazed. "I'm focused."

Not for the first time, she becomes his whole world, and he reaches over and gives her bicep a squeeze, holding on for direction.

[formersurgeon]

"You're doing great," she says, letting her thumb caress his cheek breifly. Then she turns, waits for a moment to make sure he's with her, and heads for the exit, keeping her head down.

[culturalappropriation]

He doesn't take her hand. He walks with that automated shuffle of an Avox now, only faster. It's not as if he's put on a costume; it's as if he's temporarily reverted himself entirely.

And so they escape.