thecapitol | [OPEN]

Entry tags:

[OPEN]

Who | Garrett and you!
What | The Master Thief lurks around in the shadows
Where | Around the Capitol
When | Just before the Crowning
Warnings | tbd

It's been a couple of weeks since he was killed in the arena. As far as he could tell, the game was essentially over, which meant it was definitely time to get out and track down some essential thieving tools. He'd agreed to show Ellis the ropes, after all, and their target had to be back in the city by now. Unfortunately, the natives here hadn't been too wild about talking to him about anything other than the arena, least of all about anything that might lead him to the black market or where he can find so much as a good set of lock picks. Or whatever people used to break in around here.

And so, he finds himself slinking in the alleys, looking no more significant than the shadows and the garbage strewn around as he listens to passerby. Every city had its scummy characters, and they were usually drawn to the alleys like flies to spoiled fish.

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Zed is having a pretty good time of it exploring the city. It's shining! It's bustling! No one really seems to care where he goes! He'll take it.

But even if he's been told his powers aren't functioning, he's not sure. He knows the big things aren't working, but there was that rash he'd gotten in the Arena after spending too long in the sun. He hadn't connected that to pollen yet, and so as he explores the city, he's reluctantly taking breaks. Said breaks are in the form of ducking into some shade, into the shadows, staying out of the light for a little while. Right now, he's decided he should probably take one of those shade breaks, and so he's ducked into this alley. He just wasn't expecting to find someone else already in it. "What, is this alley taken?"

Garrett scowls a bit at suddenly sharing his hiding spot. Having someone talk to him made him uncomfortably noticeable to passerby.

"Yes."

But he wasn't going to shove the guy out. He might know something, after all, and someone being pushed out of the alley might just attract more attention.

"You looking for something, or do you just like hanging out in alleys?"

"I'm just taking in the sights," Zed says flippantly. "Might as well check out the alleys, too." Not like he's going to admit that his powers might have developed into some kind of light allergy. He looks around the alley, unimpressed. "Can't say it's as nice as the rest of the place."

No one's bothered to explain bathrooms to Bayard yet. As such, when nature calls, he descends the twelve flights of stairs it takes to get to the ground floor, no matter what hour, and tries to find himself a nice, isolated place to finish up before mounting the flights again. What with buildings everywhere, Bayard's looking for such a place and finding himself coming up empty-handed. In his journey to find somewhere private, he ends up hopelessly lost in a city where every building looks the same: massive and incomprehensible.

He doesn't even see Garrett slinking around, and he shivers slightly in the night chill as he makes his way down an alley - he's finally found privacy, it seems, but at the cost of his feeling of relative safety. The tall buildings loom over him, and he can't tell his way by the stars for all the light pollution, a concept he doesn't know of.

He hears something moving behind a trash can.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

Wanna know what else is unusually drawn to alleyways?

Alley cats. And a veritable army of them, at that.

Ever since she met Cole out here and they fed the strays together, Jane has quietly committed to making sure the homeless felines get a decent meal in now and then. She sits some distance from them, her back to the alley wall, while they crowd around the bag of kibble she tore open for them, dozens of little mouths yowling and crunching in turns as they hop around each other for a better seat at the dinner table. In her hands is her sister's nail file, which she turns absently as she watches the cats eat. She's quiet, but relaxed by all appearances, her brow unfurrowed for once.

Ellis followed Garrett's suggestions and managed to find quieter shoes his size, along with some gray and brown clothes that fit the profile. Granted it was a hooded jacket and pants but beggars can't be choosers, okay?

The young man is getting used to the stares, the comments about him, but he can't stand how eager some of the Capitolites are to remind him of how he died and in graphic detail. He reminds them, quite often, that he was there, that he knows how it felt. So maybe he's a little annoyed at his new teacher.

"I'm here," he let out in a murmur.

Garrett wasn't particularly fond of cats. Sure, they were quiet and generally didn't mind him sneaking around in their owner's home, but they had a bad habit of getting directly underfoot where they'd either be stepped on or tripped over. So, when there's an army of them gathering in his alley, he follows them to get rid of whatever's drawing them in.

When he sees who's feeding them, he smirks and hops onto a dumpster.

"Quite the crowd you're gathering there."

He hesitates for a minute. No other shadows to swoop over to. Damn. He stands up from behind the garbage can, slowly and deliberately. His hand stays near the club in his belt. It was a poor substitute for his blackjack, but at least it was something.

"Yeah. Me. And why are you creeping around in alleys?"

"About time. Nice outfit, by the way."

Hoods were severely underestimated, in his opinion. Yes, you had to sacrifice some peripheral vision, but the camouflage and the anonymity they afforded were worth it.

"Any idea what kind of hours Nick keeps?"

There are worse people to catch off-guard around here, but not many. Jane starts to her feet when he lands on the dumpster, nail file gripped like a blade and hunched like she's ready for a fight. She only eases up slightly when she recognizes him, and she's still backing up to create some distance. Garrett's on the receiving end of a long, measuring glance, while her sister's token goes back up the sleeve of her jacket. Her pinched features don't betray anything but displeasure at being interrupted. Even then, the smile she pulls right before answering him is sweetly deceptive.

"Oh, good – you died."

"Seems to me that the game's over."

He crouches on the lid, relaxed but ready to jump if he has to.

"I don't think you won, either."

"I hope yer not bein' sarcastic," Ellis pointed out, already missing his hat, "He doesn't keep regular hours, but he's...dealin' with the loss. Usually around th' bars an' such."

That loss was suffered on the mechanic's side too: after all that sacrifice and pain, Nick didn't win. "Gonna git piss drunk, that he does."

"Hadn't planned on it." She's not looking his way anymore, attention diverted when yowling comes from the center of the feeding frenzy. She edges her way in, using her boot to gently drive apart the squabbling cats without reaching in with her bare hands. They accept her interference, a sign that she's not a new presence in their lives.

When the fight dies down, Jane stoops to tear the bag open further so the strays don't have to battle for access. Then she shoots him a look over her shoulder, expression hard with dismay. She looks angry, but mostly she looks tired.

"The game's not over. It never ends."

"Good. He'll be easier to sneak by if he's in."

Garrett starts heading toward the tower. There's not much daylight left, which suits him just fine. He wasn't a wanted criminal here...yet...so getting to the room should be simple. Getting inside, however, would be a different story.

"First thing you need to know about working with me: I don't like violence on the job. Especially violence that you could have run away from."

He's well aware of how much of a hypocrit he must sound like to Ellis, but it's it's the truth. He'd never been paid to get in a fight with the guards, and he hadn't no interest in it. Running whenever possible had kept him alive outside the Arena so far. Hell, getting violent in the Arena had gotten him killed.

"Well shit, you're quite good at killin'," Ellis didn't miss a beat at pointing the hypocrisy out with a smirk as he walked with Garrett. "Nick's not th' problem. It's the District 7 support staff tha' worries me. I hear horror stories about tha' escort."

The mechanic shrugged, "I'm impartial to violence myself. I can run but if I can finish the enemy off, I can do it jus' fine."

Bayard looks at the stranger with marked distrust, his face and demeanor too young to have learned how to deceive. It's clear he's looking at Garrett's stray hand.

"I'm just looking for an outhouse, sir. Or a ditch."

"They don't have anything in the tower?"

He takes notes of the man's line of sight and relaxes his hand somewhat. He'd rather not start a fight if he didn't have a good reason, and so far the kid's only crime was wandering into his alley.

"Sometimes you don't get a choice when it comes to violence."

He quirks an eyebrows.

"What sort of 'horror stories?'"

Was he afraid of some guards? No. He'd faced worse, and it sounded like Ellis had, too. But knowing what to expect from your target's security measures was worth more than almost anything you could possibly steal from them. The bank back home, for example; most thieves had only expected guards. While there were certainly guards, it was the security cameras you had to watch for; once they detected an intruder, they executed their victim themselves. Knowing that he needed to run like hell had saved his life when the system had flooded the vault with poison gas.

"Mostly the escort bein' an asshole," Ellis shrugged, "Keeps an eye out for funny business." And in dire need of a chill pill.

"You've seen th' Tower an' the Districts, Garrett," the mechanic cut to the chase, "There ain't blindspots we can use, or at least ones I can readily find. Unless you're plannin' to use the vents an' those don't have th' structural capacity to hold one man, let alone two." His mind had noted the vents and groaned at the weak plates, "Plus, I dunno about ya, but Peacekeepers aren't huggy-friendly types."

"There are always blindspots. If there's one thing you can always trust, it's that people always make some mistake somewhere that you can exploit."

If security is that tight, though, that does present a problem.

"What if we left in some of the local rabid fans? They could keep the Peacekeepers busy while we slip in with our faces covered."

The plan sounded sane right up until Ellis remembered the ordeal he had to get to Garrett, "You almost had me at the fangirls. Though I suppose I can...lure them in."

More so when he could channel something an early heart-throb. Blergh. He was a mechanic for shit's sake, he should be fixing or building a goddamn car! Seeing a poster of his face in some store made Ellis temporarily skittish around the types that would scream his name. He drew the line at Fireball, that was Nick's and Rochelle's nickname for him and he gave the Capitolite troupe a very stern reminder of that. Probably shouldn't have done that.

"How many do ya need then?"

"How many can you round up?"

He catches the hesitation in Ellis' expression and smirks.

"Relax. Crowds are easy to lose, especially if someone redirects them."

As long as Ellis had the sense to keep his face hidden and his mouth shut until after they were safe from the crowd, it'd be easy for them both to get in.

"I think I can wrangle five if I gotta make a fair estimate," Ellis huffed, "Your tricks better be worth my humiliation."

An idea, "But you lasted longer in the Arena...you should have more fans." A trolling idea but it had some merits to it as the mechanic stretched his back.

"No, sir. I saw what looked like one, but it sure didn't smell like an outhouse. It almost smelled like soap, actually."

He shakes his head. "What are you doing in an alley like this?"

"Did it have a big porcelain bowl with a sort of handle on it?"

He crosses his arms, acting far more casual than he really feels. Just because someone acts like they're a naive kid, doesn't mean they actually are.

"Just taking in the sights, kid. There's a lot more to this city than just the tower, and I'd like to get a feel for it."

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