thecapitol | The Bullet's First Tour

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The Bullet's First Tour

Who| Gary Epps and you!
What| Gary's first professional concert tour is live! And also eating into precious homework time.
Where| Various locations around the Capitol and the Training Center.
When| 5/11 through 5/22, evenings
Warnings/Notes| Can't think of any, will update as needed!

Gary rarely expects good things to happen to him. This isn't some kind of attempt to emphasize the things that do end up happening, or a denial of fate or other such decisions about the nature of life; Gary simply doesn't have the foresight to look ahead that far and would rather accept events as they occur. The message from his sponsor about recording an album, for example. Gary never would have assumed that his concert for the attempted Rebellion heist would have become as popular as it has, certainly not enough for it to get its own section in Celebrus. Anyone else would have connected the dots when they got the call mere hours after the magazine's release. Gary's swollen ego keeps him from thinking about it too much.

It's taken some weeks to record his first album, but it's definitely worth it by Gary's estimation. They were going to start touring as soon as the radios got hold of it; the Youth Programme conspired against them. Well, conspired against Gary--his sponsor knew all about it and, annoyingly, supported the cause. He was more than willing to shuffle dates around for the benefit of Gary's continued education. Concerts Friday through Sunday nights, vocal training and recording after school the rest of the week, that would work. Gary assured his sponsor that this schedule would give him plenty of time to get his work done. Unfortunately, his sponsor believed him.

A - The Tour - Around the Capitol

Gary was at first disappointed that his tour couldn't extend to the other Districts, but there's no shortage of venues in the Capitol for him to take advantage of, and in a way this makes setting up concerts all the more exciting. Some nights they pop into random bars and take over karaoke stages. Some nights they set up stages in the park, or open plazas. It's all very spontaneous and fun, much like the first concert after the Signless's sermon had been, though each session is much shorter than the original. There are no tickets to give out--only copies of Gary's album and various other paraphernalia sold at a couple stands around the stage. The theme is 'young love,' inspired by his classic single from the first concert, and includes various other hits and one-off melodies. There's no guarantee which ones Gary will be singing at any single venue. Most of the time even Gary doesn't know until he's just about to hop on-stage. He prefers it that way.

The concerts are loud, flashy and quick--suddenly there's a stage and lights and the thrumming of speakers, a crowd gathers and screams, then it's all over and the ensemble disappears. But it's not all totally unprovoked or unpredictable; Gary and his sponsor show up first to scope out an area, then he sits back and watches his stage crew blitz through preparing the venue. This, along with the few minutes he gets to towel the sweat out of his hair and get something to drink after each performance, is basically the only time Gary's allowed to interact one-on-one with the crowd, and he relishes in it. He'll mingle loudly, take requests and sign autographs and pose for pictures, and of course, give a hearty wink at anyone that stares at him for too long. Gary is in his element, here, and will go well into the early-morning hours to live in it for as long as his sponsor will let him.

B - Everything Else - Training Center

Doing homework, on the other hand, is not Gary's element.

He's perfectly happy to let the assignments pile up during the first week. Surely there will be some time when he's not exhausted after coming back to the Training Center, and he can just sit down and crank all of these out, no problem...but twelve grades of primary school have not taught Gary that he and procrastination just really don't work well together. Inevitably deadlines begin to creep up on him, and then there's a lot of huffing and puffing about actually getting out all his books and paper and pencils and study material, finding somewhere that isn't surrounded by television or games or magazines that he would much rather be paying attention to right now, and then the final scramble to a quiet corner in the building as the panic sets in and drives Gary to action.

For a full thirty minutes, he manages to focus on reading, maybe write down a couple lines of work. Forty-five minutes in he realizes that he has no idea what he's doing. An hour in, all that touring kicks in and Gary is face-down on the table, dead asleep.

This clearly isn't going well for him. Gary realizes this by about mid-second week and decides that perhaps he ought to get some help. Bleary-eyed and nursing on a cup of fancy coffee (three others surround him, long since emptied), he flags down anyone who catches his eye with a lazy wave.

"Hey! Uh." Gary pauses to take another long sip. "You know anything about math and stuff?"

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Being confined to the Training Center for his own good (ha ha), Haruto has been in no position to experience first-hand the wonders of a Gary Epps concert. The experience of catching bits of it on TV has been more than enough. It is not bad so much as it is ridiculous, and the part of him that wants to give Gary a hard time about it doesn't want to do it maliciously. He just wants to tease. Like a friend would.

Oh God, what is happening? How has it come to this? Feeling like Gary's friend?

Well, whatever the reason for it, it's a thing. It's there. And it's what has Haruto immediately stopping his trip to the kitchen and plunking down in a chair right alongside the guy. "Nope. Not a thing." Though he's reaching out to have a look at just what this homework entails. He was a fairly middle-of-the-road student, but hey, maybe he can do some good. "What do they have you learning, anyway?"

Gary, on the other hand, has no such reservations about Haruto. He's eager to flag down his Districtmate as soon as he appears, regardless of whether or not he had prior reasons for being down here (in retrospect, Gary figures that he must have been on a course for the kitchen, but obviously it wasn't important enough to keep him en-route), or if he's shown any signs of being good at math. Mostly it's a way for Gary to keep track of him. The Peacekeepers have him locked up in the Training Center, after all; Gary may be stubbornly optimistic, but part of him worries that, if he turns away for too long, he'll see Haruto walked out onto the steps. That would be most unfortunate.

Instead of that, they're going to talk about precalculus. "Graphs," Gary answers, practically a groan as he swats the paper in front of him. "Who the hell decided math needed pictures? It's not fuckin' art class, you know?"

Graphs are certainly a distraction from the day to day anxieties of post-brainwashing life here in the Tribute Tower. He flips through a few pages, frowning at what he sees on them, before drawing his hand back. "Mathematicians? They probably decided that." He is not all that much in disagreement with you, Gary. "You need to turn the graphs into numbers, or the numbers into graphs...?" Not that he can really help with either, but it seems like a good question to ask.

Gary huffs and rolls his eyes. Mathematicians. What do they know, anyways? At least Haruto seems to be in agreement with him--which isn't so helpful for actually getting the homework done, but it does let Gary cope a little better.

"I think I need to turn the graphs into more graphs," he says, scratching his head. The drawings are mostly of vectors, either tangent to other lines or aligned one after the other. Pictorial vector addition seems to be the lesson for today. "Like, I could do it if they just gave me the numbers," Gary explains with desperate gestures at his failed work, "but this is impossible."

Edited 2015-06-07 14:16 (UTC)

"More graphs?" Haruto looks aghast, and then looks back at the pages that he had just flipped through. Wow, no, this is way outside of the realms of his recollection. "Uh... what if you figured out the numbers from the graphs you do have?" He is grasping at straws. He is feeling around for anything that might help. In a metaphorical sense, at least. "I don't know. I don't remember any of this." His memories of those last years of school are mostly soccer and friends and sleepless nights and nodding off in class. Not all bad, but also not helpful right now.

"But then I have to do weird shit with triangles! Or--man, I dunno," Gary sighs, sinking into his chair with a huff. He's not looking for help from Haruto anymore; what Gary needs now is a bleeding heart to commiserate with. "It's all a waste of time anyways. When am I ever gonna need this? It's bullshit! Total bullshit."

Commiseration, Haruto can do. He lets himself slump in his seat, nodding along slowly and sympathetically. "I didn't think that it could get any worse. That they'd find a way to screw with us beyond what they're already doing. But..." And he slaps a hand idly on the tabletop. "Math homework. Are they trying to break you guys?"

It's flippant but it's just complaining. Hardly seditious enough to get him hauled off, surely.

Probably not serious enough for Peacekeeper intervention, and yet Gary finds himself flinching and nervously laughing to dispel any possible outside alarm anyways. It hasn't taken too long for that reflex to settle in. Gary would be appalled at himself if he even realized he was doing it.

"Don't jinx it," he chuckles weakly out of the corner of his mouth. "Now just because we said it, next Arena we'll get muttations that chase you until you perfectly recite your multiplication tables or some shit. I'll put money on it."

Haruto lifts an eyebrow at Gary's reaction. That's... a little more startled than he'd expected. Is this stuff finally getting to the guy? He's feeling guilty now, but he's not sure if it's for the slap on the desk or the joke about breaking people. He draws his hand back, and sits a little straighter.

"Math-mutts? Eh, well, you'll have an advantage over everyone else, what with all this math homework... you really hoping to win the next one?" He may be asking it casually, but it's a serious question. Haruto is giving him a serious look. There's no smile. He really wants to know.

"Yeah, maybe..." Gary rolls his eyes and shrugs, leaning back into his chair with one arm slung lazily over the backboard. That's a sign that whatever worry he had before has been just as quickly forgotten as it was realized...until the second question registers. No, that was only an answer to the first. Gary's eyes widen with confused interest.

"--Hmm?" He sits up slightly. "Oh yeah! Man, why wouldn't I? That's, like--that's the goal, right? Don't you always go in to win?"

In Gary's case in particular: No he does not. Not that he realizes. But he doesn't have the self-awareness to realize that he craves the competition more than the reward--and even so, the consequences of losing are starting to outweigh the adrenaline high.

"I do." And Haruto's serious expression is already gone, replaced with a smile and a shrug of his own. "I'm just considering something different to be a 'win'." It is an idea that he has not spent much time talking about, if just because he's worried it's going to bring out Wesker, who will then get all creepy in his direction. But he's pretty sure the guy is somewhere off-site today, so here's the chance.

"I don't like going in there, but I don't mind it. If it were down to you and me, last ones left?" He pauses for emphasis. "I'd let you win it." And then before it gets too serious, he leans forward, grinning. "I want to see what kind of crazy party they'd throw for you. It'd be way better than mine."

Gary's head tilts slightly to the side and his smile quirks in the same direction. A different sort of 'win,' eh? What an interesting thought. It reminds him rather suddenly of the conversation he had with Linden, soon after the whole rebellion business that had Haruto confined to the Center in the first place--they talked about this sort of thing, a different goal than winning an Arena, a different way out. And the idea had struck him as unpleasant, then, to abandon his friends for the sake of the Capitol, but...to hear Haruto suggest that this perhaps isn't the end-all for him, either, is a definite reassurance. Maybe they won't be angry after all. Maybe this is something worth looking into.

This idle train of thought has Gary distracted, long enough that what Haruto tells him after hits him late and knocks him abruptly off the tracks. He blinks back to attention. "--Party? Oh, yeah," Gary chuckles easily and stares at the ceiling. "It'll be a real party. Not one of these weird costume socials they've set up for everyone else, you know? I'll make sure of it, don't worry."

Things seemed to be veering dangerously close to an emotional moment, but between the both of them, it has been successfully dodged. "Real party? How's that going to work? I mean, me, if I won, everyone'd be wearing masks and belts and rings... for yours, everyone's just going to have to dress up really loud, right?" He reaches out to give Gary a playful tap on the arm, then pushes up to his feet from there.

"...gonna get something from the kitchen. Want me to grab you something?"

"I can not believe I just got rickrolled."

Rochelle had figured it couldn't hurt, going to a concert set up by that strange guy from the Crowning. Concerts were another thing that she'd missed, on top of a lengthy list of things, and she didn't quite trust Capitolite music. What do they have to sing about? Having too much money?

Rochelle had not anticipated what Gary was capable of.

It wasn't even bad music, but her eyes narrowed as soon as she realized what that song was, and were narrowed even now, as she meandered up to him after the show. Despite her words, though, she looked amused. It was a relief to at least hear songs that she recognized, if she were to be honest.

"In the year...Whatever year it is. I just got rickrolled. Unbelievable." She continued, a smile on her face as she shook her head. "Rick Astley is shaking his head in his grave, kid."

Even if Rochelle had been properly angry at him, Gary is not in a position to care or notice. He's breathless, swarmed in a crowd of people that he mostly doesn't recognize, being asked too many questions at once to process, and absolutely loving every second of it--but there's a grounding force at work. A familiar voice, which Gary connects to a familiar face a moment later. A Tribute! He remembers her! Skydiving, yeah. That was fun. With a series of carefully-executed wiggles and shuffles, Gary writhes his way out of the mob, calling back a few promises to talk later and some kisses blown from his palms, then lets the ensuing chaos distract them while he focuses on Rochelle instead.

"Well," Gary drawls, propping his hands on his hips while he catches his breath, "Maybe he's rolling in his grave."

There's a long pause. Gary looks ahead, expectantly.

"Maybe Rick is rolling," he reiterates, slowly.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Her voice is dry as Gary has to all but writhe his way out from under his adoring fans. If anyone was good at grounding someone, whether they liked it or not, it was Rochelle. She stares at him calmly, arms crossed. The one face raising an eyebrow at him in a sea of overly excited idiots.

She has to stop, though, when he talks, and her expression takes a level in deadpan that even she didn't know that she could achieve. For a few moments, she just stares at him, unable to believe that a real live person had just uttered those words with a real live voice. She opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again. If they weren't surrounded by a bunch of people who seemed to think that he was the greatest thing since sliced bread, she might consider a noogie.

As it was, she just slowly shook her head. "How dare you make me hear that with my own two ears, boy."

He probably deserves one. In any case, Gary is sufficiently grounded.

"Yes ma'am." His face falls for a fraction of a second as he stares at his feet, utterly defeated. But the reaction is quick, to the point of being almost instinctive; Gary recovers a moment later, chin up and all smiles as he was when he told his shitty joke. The slight, he assumes, has been forgiven. "--I'm just finishing up here! We can talk."

Gary does not actually pause long enough to let Rochelle decide what they're going to talk about.

"What's a rickroll?"

Well, now she feels a bit like she just beat up a kid. Guilt prodded at her--Teenagers were allowed to indulge in being idiots, weren't they? She sighs, and pats his shoulder. "Hey, it's nice to have fans." Which was the closest she was going to get for apologizing, or being any kind of comforting.

She did squint at him about not knowing what a rickroll was. "That song...I mean. Are you from the actual 80s...? Did you unironically sing that song just because it's a good song...?" The idea that anyone could actually, genuinely like that song had been a concept lost to her after too many times naively clicking links.

This is close enough for Gary's purposes. He straightens and preens a bit under Rochelle's reassuring hand, but makes the wise decision not to push his luck too much again. Rochelle is nice! And pretty! And reasonably tolerant of him! All fantastic reasons not to drive her off with a mistimed joke.

They can, instead, talk about whatever the hell a 'rickroll' is. "Uh...I was born in '88. Does that count?" Gary says, quirking an eyebrow. He's fairly sure it doesn't, so he continues on anyways. "--I heard it on the radio around here a couple of times. It's okay! But I thought it would sound great with a little, you know...pop!"

For emphasis, Gary plants his feet and gives an exaggerated, rolling thrust of his hips. Somewhere in the background, several preteen girls shriek in unison.

"Seems to have worked, I think! My sponsor told me it's my best-selling single!"

...really. The Tribute his niece has been making goo-goo eyes at--just because he's old doesn't mean he's blind, Felicity--is trying to ask him for homework help. Normally, Torin would have been very polite to a Tribute asking for that sort of assistance, but he seems unusually cross this afternoon. Gary, are you sure you really want the cranky-looking older guy coming your way to help?

Gary is sure, because he remembers his last talk with Torin and he seems like a smart, understanding older guy who would be willing to help a Tribute out in his time of need. The cranky look is probably just some form of resting bitch face. Totally not his fault.

"Yeah, you! Uh--" Gary snaps his fingers a few times to conjure the name. It was a while ago, by his terms. "--Torin! Yeah. I'm doing this stuff with, uh...parabolas? You know anything about parabolas?"

No, there's something a little more to it than that, Gary. Torin has gotten excellent at cultivating a displeased look over the years, and the one he's wearing now would have likely sent some District 2 Tributes from the old days scurrying to hide under a couch. (Granted, part of this is because he thinks worrying about teaching the younger Tributes here about parabolas is a waste of time when all the Capitol expects them to do is fight and die and serve as part of the propaganda machine.) "It's been a while since I had to worry about that." Not since he'd survived his Arena.

"How's your singing career going?" He's circling what he really wants to talk about now, not unlike a shark who's spotted a tiny lifeboat out in the middle of the ocean.

That's quite the look. Withering, even. Gary's natural smile twitches and droops in confusion and dismay as the realization slowly kicks in that maybe, just maybe he's in some hot water right now. But why? He hasn't done anything wrong. Usually he at least knows what he's done wrong.

"Oh! Okay, that's--oh?" Gary perks up, partially out of interest, partially because of the subject whiplash. Why would Torin be curious about that? Does it matter? Gary's not going to think too hard about why it matters. He forces another grin and confidently sticks his hands on his hips. "Great! It's going great. I've been touring, now. It's kind of a spontaneous sort of thing--you know, for the image and stuff or whatever. Have you caught any?"

"I haven't caught any," Torin admits, seizing the conversational opportunity here, "but my niece has. Maybe you know her? Felicity Yoshida?"

Careful, Gary. You're dealing with a protective uncle now.

Gary, ever oblivious, does not realize that perhaps Felicity is the missing link here. Maybe then he would know where this is going and would be able to defend himself.

Instead, he walks straight into the trap Torin has set up for him, grinning from ear-to-ear the entire time. "Felicity! Yeah, I know her! I had no idea you two were related!" Gary gives an enthusiastic nod and stares wistfully off at the ceiling. "I've seen her at all my big concerts so far. We don't always get to talk, but I know she's there from the camera flashes and the screaming." He giggles. This is the point where he should stop. Gary does not stop. "She's adorable. Definitely my biggest fan--don't tell anyone else I said that. Did you, uh...want to get her something?"

Torin does not seem impressed with the direction in which Gary has chosen to take this discussion. He wonders if Gary is really this dense, has such a lack of a self-preservation instinct, or doesn't care. "You are aware that there are rules governing fraternization between Tributes and the citizenry of Panem, aren't you?"

Really, Gary shouldn't be so surprised at where this has gone. If only he had more foresight! But this is entirely too much to ask of him. He is truly that dense--dense enough that the severity of the topic isn't enough to wipe the smile from his face. Just make it a little confused.

"Uh...kind of?" Gary chuckles nervously and offers a helpless shrug of consolation. "She's not a Mentor or anything, is she?"

"She's the niece of a Mentor." Torin wonders how far he should go with this, and he dryly adds, "A Mentor with a noted history of running people through with swords." Is he being serious there? It's very hard to say. (Yet watching any recordings of Torin's time in the Arena would confirm that yes, he has run several people through with swords.)

That's plenty far enough, as far as Gary's concerned. He looks incredulous for a moment, and his mouth opens, a vague attempt at saying 'You're threatening' me?' comes out as a simple mimed gesture before he gives up. His mouth closes into a thin line. He's gone a little pale. Come on, Epps, pull it together...How would he normally deal with this kind of infringement?

Oh, that's right--stupidly. "Well--" Gary blusters, suddenly folding his arms in defiance, "--it's not a problem if she doesn't work in the Center, and you're not the boss of her, so--there."

Edited (terminology!) 2015-07-02 22:12 (UTC)

Mission accomplished. Gary's gone pale, has momentarily gone speechless...Torin knows when he's hit his mark. He's scared Gary, if only for a little bit. And with any luck, that would translate into a bit of discouragement. It's better for all parties involved...even if part of Torin wishes he could let teenage foolishness run its course. (The other part, the protective part, is just fine with how this is going.)

"I may not be the boss of her," Torin replies smoothly, "but the laws apply to us all. And the law might think otherwise of certain behaviors between a Tribute and a citizen." And since he's done his job of getting Gary a little shaken up, he tips his hat and moves to walk away. "Good day, Mr. Epps. I'll let you get back to your studies."

It's discouragement, but it's not any sort that Gary's willing to show. He's on a roll now. Competent points or otherwise, he's decided that, right at the tail end of their talk while the other party has his back turned, is the best way to win their little debate.

"Yeah, well--you're not the boss of me, either!" he calls after Torin. "That's right, you'd better walk away! Chump. You ever seen a bigger chump in your life? Me neither. Wow."

The fact that Gary has elected not to follow him must speak volumes about how he really feels. No matter; Gary's slumping back in his chair to grumpily stumble the rest of his way through his homework.

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The Bullet's First Tour

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I think we can wrap this up!

Sounds good!

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