thecapitol | Once Upon A Dream

Once Upon A Dream - 4th wall

The Tributes will not be warned for when their injections will occur. For those who are known to be compliant and willing to work with the capitol, they may be taken aside and told they are getting a shot or whatever else may convince them. Others may be injected within their sleep (and have been drugged earlier to keep them that way).

If you are not a tribute, your injection comes on your decision, having cashed in your ticket at Hypnogogia for a good rest and stay.

Everyone is ushered to bed at once and everyone will be quick to discover why.

The first effect is a sort of paralysis - not the terrifying inability to move, but a signal to the brain that says why move? Moving is so much effort. It's quickly followed by drowsiness, and then a chill that radiates from the needle into the body, and finally, unconsciousness.

This shared dreaming carries on whenever you sleep for seven total days, with the Expos running during their waking hours. Those with Vistors will meet them within the dream.

Day 1: It starts as a typical day in the tower. You may very well not realise it to be a dream. The only difference is that there are others here, ones who won't be around when you wake. They've been instructed to wait for you. You can show them the whole of the Capitol in this time, if you wish.

Day 2: On this day, the world is... yours. Some of the world will bleed into the mini worlds of others, so long as you have the wish in mind to visit them. Some details about the worlds may be off but it will initially seem as though you've finally returned home.

Day 3: A paradise. Any paradise. Whatever your characters would personally deem as a paradise. Like with day 2, the dream worlds will bleed into one another.

Day 4: On day four, it starts off somewhere inspired by a District. It's been tailored to suit the Capitol of course but

̨̙̟͒̒̔ͬ̄̌̓̓s̋͒ͩ̈́ͯ́̾ͭ͑͘҉̮͈̪̲̼̜̟͡ó͔͔͖̼̂̓̌̓m̰̹ͩ͑̽̆̽̚͟͞e͙̰̬̻̋ͣ͑ͭ̄̌̀ṭ̡͈͔̺̀͂̈́ͯ̎͛̓́́ḣ̍̉͌҉̮̖͔͉̜͉̘͓į̶̥̼͙͒̏́̈n̼̬̼͖͖̳͊͐̈g̷̱͈̦̀ͣ͒̒̅͛ͯ̐̿ ̵̡̻̳̯ͫ̓̃ͭͨg̵͚͚͖̏̒̏ͨ̐̏ͦ͞͡ȏ͚̳͓̱̩̞͚͙ͮ̊̄̐̂͊e͇͇̦̳̦ͥ̽͌̆͂̇͆ͤͅs͙͙̠̝͍̹͔͓͛̽̾͑͂͆ ̠͖̘̥̤̑ͧ͘w̛̰̰̗͕̻̯̰͕̃͌͘r͖̰͚̋o̵̭̺̺̘͈͕͆̐̇̌ͣ͆͗͟n̷̫ͦ̆ͯ̀g̛̥͖͎̺͙͈ͮ̓͐̄̇.

The dream world seems to distort. From the setting, to those in it, for five seconds everything is warped and wrong, caught in an echo chamber. Then it goes dark and silent. From the dark, the nightmares crawl out. The nightmares may have things taken from memory, but most of it is a new and horrible scene where making sense isn't mandatory.

Capitolites are quickly awoken and refunded. They are given a (poor-tasting) drink that will offer them totally dreamless sleep. But they don't have to drink it if they do not wish...

[OOC: This is the day that D13 players will finally be able to participate and on every day following. You are allowed to post for this early.]

Day 5: The Capitol tries again to take back control of the dream, starting out with a fun and cute arena with super-soakers, glitter bombs, and weapons made from foam. It's happy and colorful. But it doesn't last long.

Soon enough, the dream warps again into a nightmare. The arena loses its harmlessness, becoming one that's very much a threat. This may be an arena from memory or something totally new.

Day 6: The Capitol hasn't given up fighting District thirteen's interference but they've taken to a new tactic. In attempt to drive them out, or at least pin some of the blame on thirteen, the sixth round of sleep is set in a bad memory. It can be any memory at all; something in the arena, something offworld, even things around the capitol or area around so long as it could've been caught on camera. Essentially, unless it's a blind spot, it's fair game.

Individuals who are free of or manage to fight through this torment are free to help the dreaming characters as they will-- or make things worse.

Day 7: War. Terrible war. This is what will be heard on the final day. It will echo out over the dream world. And that dream world will reflect the very terrible war spoken of. Is that your friend over there, looking shell-shocked? Is that your family laying there motionless? Who is that in the fray crying out? Could it be the one you love most?

This dream will leave very few survivors and will not last long. Those that do, will hear this: "Know the cost of selfish acts. Consider what you stand for."

[OOC: With this you may consider the fourth wall live! All tributes and any guests, Capitolites, and D13ers who are signed up may tag in here. Alternately, you may make your own logs! If you are tagging in here, you MUST warn with headers for any relevant topics that may upset players.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Day 4 -Closed to copesetic ((Series!Appearance))
They were told this was coming, they signed up to be subjected to their fears just to prove they could overcome them and considering the reputation that had preceded him as a liability for his temper, Jet had practically been the first one to sign up. He wouldn't let himself be seen like that, he had to prove he was strong and just as worth being around as anyone else. What they didn't tell them was when the mission would happen, so when he went to bed with Albert at his back like always, he thought nothing of it.

He woke up with a jolt and shook his head, red hair spilling everywhere across his shoulders. Stiffly, he uncurled from his folded up position against the wall and stretched too-heavy legs out in front of him. That was when he realized something was wrong. He stared at the black boots against the green material of his pants for a long time as if he couldn't comprehend what he was looking at. Calmly, he reached up to his neck and pulled the bright red fabric of his scarf around to see as though that might have the answers instead. A second passed, then another, then his brain snapped to attention on what he was staring at and jolted him into standing.

He was wearing the old uniform, the really old one, the one from over sixty years ago. The Black Ghost uniform.

His hands scrambled to his hair and felt it's length and pulled a strand around to see it's flaming red color instead of the blond he'd been expecting and without looking, he already knew his eyes were back to being brown from blue. He was back to the way he'd looked originally, before the fall. But how? And why was he here on Ghost Island?? He should be with Joe and the others in Gilmore's beach house. Jet's eyes darted to the door with no windows and then the slit of a window behind him that informed him it was night time and then to the vent on the wall next to him.

The Vent. These assholes wouldn't be stupid enough to put them next to each other again, would they? God, he could only hope so. "Al! Albert, are you over there? Tell me you are and...this is gonna sound crazy as hell, but tell me if you look thirty years younger to boot, okay?" What was this, some kind of time lapse crap? Who the hell even knew, first he needed to ensure his husband was on the other side of that wall.

Day 5-Open ((Normal!Appearance))
This was easier. They had their mission: break into the dreams of others and act as living propaganda for 13. It shouldn't be hard beyond figuring out how to break into other's dreams but that might only take a thought, this was a dream, after all. The rest of it would work itself out.

Those where his thoughts as he went to sleep, those were his thoughts as he was just waking up in that dreamscape, dark now that it lacked the nightmare to fill it. That is, until he realized nothing was coming to fill that darkness. There was nothing, only darkness and silence and he felt his heart rate spike. It wasn't the voidroom, though, he could reach out and feel some kind of tree or bush or something plant-like near his hand and when he shifted, there was definitely gravel under his feet. Which meant...

His heart leapt into his throat and choked the air out of his system. He was blind again, just like in the mall arena, he was blind and helpless and useless and he didn't even know where he was or who was with him or- "A-Al...Albert? A-Are you there?" His voice quivered with terror and his frantic thoughts scrambled to remember his husband's words after they'd woken up from that arena, how he'd told Jet he thought the younger man could survive being blind as long as he gave himself a chance to do it. He just had to remember that, remember to be strong. He could do that.

A low growl in the distance kept his heart in his throat and sent his stomach twisting in on itself. The growl was followed by a gurgle and crunch of teeth ripping through flesh and all Jet could think of was what that felt like, what had happened the last time he'd heard that sound. Kevin with his gray skin, ripped around the jaw as too many teeth tore through it and his jaw, his body twisted and malformed into something broken and wrong and dangerous. He could hear the snap of those bony arms as Jet fought him and broke them, but then he could hear the snap and crunch of his own bones breaking and the searing pain as Kevin's jaws came around Jet's middle and heard the monster's teeth squelch into guts and fragile innards that burst all too easily under the serrated force. He could remember the taste of his own blood bubbling up in his throat and mouth and the sound of his own agonized screams and Jet gasps, hands coming to cover his ears like that would block out the remembered sounds. Hot breath flows down the back of Jet's neck and in his blinded and panicked state, he can just imagine that twisted thing bring right behind him and about ready to snack on his skin once more and terror jolts him into action. He runs. He runs as hard and fast as he can, but all the while he can hear it crashing after him, chasing him down until his lungs give out and leave him vulnerable for the attack.

Day 6-Open ((Normal!Appearance))
This was the third day of this shit and he still wasn't used to it. They went to sleep, mission in mind, but when he woke up, it was to find himself standing on the cliff side outside the doors of Valhalla. A strong gust of wind blew golden hair into his eyes and he pushed it out of his face as he looked down the path. There, nearly fifty feet from him was Albert and the mission flew from his mind, instantly replaced with the memory of relief and barely formed or faded grief. He wasn't dead, he'd been brought back to life and found his way back to them and now he was safe and out of Jaden's grasp.

A huge grin split his face and he dashed down the path, intending to fling himself into Albert's arms and crush his partner in as tight a grip as he could manage. Hell, maybe they'd even fall over with the force of it, but he didn't care if it meant the older cyborg was alive and there with him. "Al! Thank god!" Twenty feet. Ten. Albert's right arm came up and Jet froze in his steps. Three feet from his partner and he stood at eye-level with five barrels of a gun. That gunhand had never once been pointed at him before and it sent cold fear and staggering confusion through him.

"A-Al...what? What are you...doing?" He was still smiling, still happy to see his lover back from the dead, but there was a quiver to it, a nervousness and fear that was foreign to him. He'd never felt it when looking at Albert before. Distantly, the part of him that recognized the memory for what it was, realized there'd be no Pyunma to intervene this time, no one would come to pull Jet back just before the bullets were fired at him, no one would put themselves between Jet and the death he refused to see coming.

He'd never told the voice in the vent his name and so the sudden blurt of it from Jet on the other side of the wall is jarring, as much as anything startles him anymore. The world these days is just one long bland stretch of Hell as he waits for the inevitable end. Their testing is getting more difficult, they come back in need of more repairs after every sojourn into the field. The only spot of brightness for 004 to look forward to is that maybe he finally won't come back at all.

"No." He looks the same age as he did when he was captured. And always will. He won't age, only rust.

Even Jet's question isn't much of a change, not after he'd been spinning this ridiculously concocted story for the better part of a year. It'd kept them going, honestly, but 004 has to question 002's sanity in the asking.

"Why?"

Something wasn't right, something in Albert's tone sounded off. Not unfamiliar, but wrong. Jet leaned against the wall they shared, like he could phase through it and reach the man on the otherside.

"Hey...you alright in there? It'll be okay, you know, whatever's going on here...we'll figure it out. We busted out once, we can do it again. Then we can find Sam and Bucky and Terezi and Kurloz and them." If they were here. Maybe they really did get sucked back into time.

Of course, that didn't mean their friends weren't with them, Pyunma and Chaud had been with them when they'd gone to Panem.

He just had to keep their hopes up, they were stronger now and they were still together, that was all that mattered.

"The characters in your stories?" There's a note of concern in 004's voice, something that's not generally even there when 002 comes back injured and talks with strain in his voice. The scientists will just fix him up, after all. They can put them back together like puzzle pieces, so what's a little pain? He can't let himself care about it.

But this is different, this is a turn down a bad road, though frankly he's not sure why either of them haven't been down it yet in the first place. Endless surgeries, endless tests, endless combat is enough to make anyone crazy.

"002, we've never 'busted out.' Escape is impossible."

Without even touching him, Albert knocked the air out of him. He couldn't tell which had done it worse: the phrase 'characters in your stories' or the fact Albert had just called him 002. Both hurt and confused him.

"No...we did! We escaped decades ago, we beat Black Ghost, we were on Mocawa with Q and Lady and then we were in Panem. We got-!" He cut himself off before the word 'married' came out of his mouth. Albert wouldn't forget something like that. Maybe it was cheesy and overly romantic, but Jet firmly believed Albert could get brainwashed or have amnesia and he wouldn't forget that, it was too important to them.

So then why was he acting like that wasn't the case now? Unless it was because it was true. What if he were the only one who'd gone back in time and none of that had happened for Albert yet? But then why would their family's names even be recognizable in the wrong context?

"What stories are you talking about?"

"About defeating Black Ghost, being clones, and that island, and...." 004 trails off, not wanting to touch on much of the rest. Sex and marriage? With a man? He'd let Jet go on at first because he'd been so surprised by the matter of fact why the younger cyborg told the story, but to actually believe it, to assume a man over ten years his senior believes it too brings 004 an uncomfortable but ultimately unsurprising revelation.

The man who the voice in the vent belonged to, 004's last lifeline to anything besides the grim path set before them, was completely insane.

"002... Don't tell me you actually believe what you've been saying."

"I..." He did, he believed it whole-heartedly but what did that mean? He sat back against the wall, legs pulled up to his chest like before. He didn't remember telling any stories, but Albert had no reason to lie to him, not here. Had he really dreamed it all?

Dreamed...he was supposed to be undergoing some kind of 'dream mission' for 13, right? But what if he'd dreamed that up too? Why would that be real if all the rest was fake? Maybe the reason he'd had so many brushes with insanity in the arenas was because he was actually insane and didn't realize it.

Maybe this was reality. It wouldn't be the first time in his life he'd used his imagination to escape a situation he couldn't face. It made sense like that, didn't it. Some slums kid with shitty parents gets picked up by lunatics and turned into tool for people to use, so he makes up a reality where he escapes and has real friends and falls in love with some great person and they even get married, he becomes a hero and not a weapon. Looking at it like that, it made perfect sense.

"It's true, though. It happened. This, right now, is the dream, not that. It can't just be stories to you." But as determined as his words were, his tone told the real story: he wasn't as sure as he'd like to be, there was doubt and fear of what it might mean if he was wrong.

He didn't want to be crazy, how could that even happen to a person without realizing it?

Jet Day 4/5/6 CW: Insanity, thoughts of suicide, graphic descriptions

Day 4

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Day 6

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Day 5

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Day 6

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