[open] They're mopping up the butcher's floor

[samson]

Who| Brock Samson and YOU
What| Brock gets over himself and goes to the zoo
Where| Training Center (D8, gym, roof, commons) and Capitol Zoo & Aquarium
When| Weds., Jan. 14

a. TRIBUTE TOWER.

After the Arena, Brock spent a little over a week being as reclusive as one can in a world where one has been foisted into Kardashianing against one's will. He spent a large amount of his time in the Training Center -- specifically in the gym.

Today is really no different. He's in the gym, stabbing training dummies and hitting the heavy bag and climbing the rock wall. He has a lot of aggression to work out, and this is the best way to do it.

Still, it's been over a week. It's time to buck up and get over it. It's not so much that Brock's mad he lost -- he didn't really care to win, and, to be fair, pretty much everyone was cheated out of a fair fight because of several circumstances -- but rather that his death disturbed him more than he'd care to admit. And the best way to deal with things he didn't want to admit, in Brock's experience, was to distract himself to the point where he didn't have time to think about it. But there is a thin line between healthy coping mechanisms and being a little bitch about something, so he makes a concerted effort to move the hell on.

Midday, he's up at the rooftop garden, idly looking over plants as he smokes a cigarette. Which is probably not a great combination, but screw you, just try and stop him. Occasionally, he leans over to touch the plants, frowning, before he moves on to the next planter.

He can also be found in the District 8 Suites and in the Central Commons, though he doesn't stay in either place for long, only passing through.

b. CAPITOL ZOO & AQUARIUM

As the day winds down, Brock heads out into the world. He's usually at the zoo every week, every Wednesday, a quirk he's not sure the Capitol has picked up on yet, judging by the lack of paparazzi following him here. But it's not like there aren't cameras everywhere anyway, he muses darkly, as he looks over giraffes and monkeys and other things on his way to nowhere in particular.

Or at least that's how he's trying to appear: he's going nowhere in particular. He always winds up by the polar bears as the sun begins to sink down, then upstairs to the otters and sea lions and other aquatic mammals. He lingers here awhile, maybe waiting for someone, but then again, maybe these are just his favorite animals. Either way, once it's dark enough, he moves on, glancing at a few more exhibits before he leaves.

Comments

[samson]

Wow, Joel, lighten up! It's going to kill you if you don't find something funny about how stupid all this is. That last part does give Brock pause though, because that... could be a problem...

He knows a lot of dead people.

"Wait, seriously? Is that a thing?"

[aintyourdad]

"Did it a couple arenas ago," Joel says gruffly, offering no more information than that. It had been a nightmare, and he's not about to explain to anyone what happened in detail. Enough people saw it at the time. More than enough.

[samson]

Brock rubs at his chin, frowning. Well, he can at least take solace in the fact that they will probably not repeat themselves. Probably.

"Great. Sounds like a blast," he says, a lot more deadpan and a lot less flippantly than before. "How long you even been here, man?"

[aintyourdad]

He shrugs. "Hard to keep track when they keep throwing us in there. But I'd say about a year. This'll be my fifth arena."

[samson]

"Jesus," Brock swears quietly, because he can't even imagine what that's like. Brock is used to weirdness but Joel strikes him as a civilian -- someone who's not trained for this kind of madness, the compartmentalization needed. Even Brock feels like he's starting to lose it a little from constantly being on edge.

"I'm surprised more people don't snap, honestly."

[aintyourdad]

"Oh, they do," Joel says with a snort. "Whenever a few disappear, or get killed, I'd be willing to put money on it that they snapped."

The Capitol just really likes its coverups.

[samson]

Well, that's certainly possible...

"But never anything public? No head-shaving meltdowns?"

[aintyourdad]

"I'm sure there have been," Joel says with a shrug. "Probably a lot more before they started pullin' from other worlds - their own people seem more interested in makin' a fuss than most of us. But I don't watch the news much, either."

Certainly not the gossip rags.

"There was that peacekeeper murder a while back, though. If that wasn't a meltdown, I dunno what was."

[samson]

"Yeah... that's still unsolved, I guess."

Though the way he says it implies he doesn't really buy that.

Brock pauses, looking at Joel, and then he arches an eyebrow a bit. "Y'know, I heard you, uh, 'made a fuss' back when they had that kiddie Arena, right? Landed in jail or something?"

[aintyourdad]

"Yeah, and?" Joel asks him. "They did one sicko thing too many and I got mad."

[samson]

"Just saying. I'd cool it if I were you," he answers casually, turning his attention back to the plants. Joel may be right: it's possible that there are people who snap under pressure, and that they're the ones that die under mysterious circumstances or outright disappear. If lying low keeps you alive, well, it might be a good idea to learn to lie low.

[aintyourdad]

"Cool what? I'm not sayin' it on national TV, and they can't do worse to me than they've already done," Joel says flatly. And yes, he's aware they can kill him. He really couldn't care less at this point. He can go back to his world, and die horribly, or die horribly here. It's pretty bleak, either way.

[samson]

Brock just laughs a little mirthlessly in response. "Yeah, you'd be real freakin' surprised at how creative people can get with torture. Believe me."

He stands up straight, dropping his cigarette to the ground and toeing it out. "Point is, cool yourself. We're all pissed about this whole thing, but don't pull that shit."

[aintyourdad]

"I'm far from the biggest troublemaker in this place, I'm on their radar barely, if at all," Joel says with a shrug. "Just ask one of the people they branded."

He's pretty sure they know the difference between complaints about mistreatment and actually suggesting plots against them - the former, he does in spades. The latter, he sees no point in.

[samson]

Joel. Joel please. Take a hint. Brock rolls his eyes a bit, tipping his head slightly to one side.

"Bro, I'm just trying to help you out. Alright? Take my advice or don't, but don't blow me off."

Brock's natural inclination is to give people advice and protect them -- particularly if they are in situations they don't know much about. Joel's been here for a year, he says, but Brock knows espionage. And Joel doesn't really seem too concerned with his own safety. It's worrying.

[aintyourdad]

If he doesn't seem concerned for his own safety, it's because he's not. Certainly not now that Ellie is gone, his only real reason for giving a damn about anything.

A spy he is not, a liar he is not. But he knows what it is to live under an oppressive regime - how to keep his head down when he needs to. He'll grumble, but he doesn't grumble any louder than anyone else here - and certainly not as loud as some. Nor is he actually working against them.

So he shrugs, and turns away - doing exactly that - brushing him off.