Once Upon A Dream - 4th wall

[etcircenses]

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.]

Comments

[silberfuchs]

"They have their uses." It's a small concession, Albert never eager to sing the praises of what modifications were thrust upon him to turn him into 004, the God of Death. In this case, as in many others he doesn't care to acknowledge, they could save his life. Potentially both their lives, even if ostensibly he knows it's simply a dream and they'll both snap awake if they 'die' - he wonders if Klim has figured that part out - he still must act as if this is a real scenario.

"I have hands that steady," he raises one a bit before him, palm up as if to demonstrate. These are his original cybernetics, the ones Gilmore developed and not the useless Capitol facsimiles. Top of the line, custom alloys, bearings, and stabilizers. He could be still as a statue, including no breathing, for hours if he wishes.

"I also have a body made completely of metal. If the chair sprung closed, it would be more likely to break than I would." It would tear his synthetic flesh, but he's bulletproof beyond that. He doubts a spring trap could do much harm unless it was quite a bit heavier. The gun is more of a concern, however. He is indeed bulletproof, but it's aimed directly at eye level and cannot be swiveled. If he was shot there, it would go through his brain - one of very few organic parts left of him - and kill him.

But it's only a dream.

Albert appraises 'Kyle' silently. It's easy to put the pieces together after seeing the chair, how Klim's cybernetics were necessary because of that thing. It makes sense it would feature prominently in his nightmares. And if he were to take his place here two things could come of it. First, Klim could kill him, but that would put him no worse off than he was before. Second, though, he could earn gratitude and potentially help.

He is here for information, after all, and Klim is now a Gamemaker.

"I'll sit in it," he announces it heavily, then smirks, as if the decision isn't difficult at all. "I think you're a bit more squishy than I am."

[twoklimmen]

When Albert mentions his hands, it's as though a trapdoor has been sprung beneath Sigma's feet. He stares numbly at his cybernetics before closing his eyes to commit it to memory - but with a head full of static, it just won't stick. Come on. Albert could do it. He had to respect his decision: holding a trigger steady for nine minutes would require little to no effort for a sophisticated cyborg. To kill a person in that chair would have to be entirely intentional...

And then comes the rest of his sentence. Sigma's eyes snap open and he searches Albert's face for grief, amazed at how trivial a self-sacrifice seemed to him. Regardless of whether or not his partner was truly afraid, things were, at last, decided. Sigma chokes out a sigh of relief, arm drawing over his forehead to wipe the sweat from his eyebrows. His gratitude is powerful enough to drown out old grudges and he suddenly wishes, with all of his strength, that they could start from the beginning.

"Thank you, Heinrich."

When he gathers the courage to lift his head, his expression is twisted with a lifetime's worth of suffering. If he could still fight tooth and claw through physical pain, he has reached the limit of his endurance for emotional torment. "...I know how this must look to you. I must seem like the worst sort of coward, huh? It's just that I'm... so tired of these games..." The hundreds of lives he remembers, the hundreds of death games he has played, make him feel as old as dust and just as useful. Dying and screwing things over, the greatest talents of the king of infinite time. An immortal, omnipotent failure.

"...But you said you were willing to trust me. The last thing I want is for you to regret that." He wants, if only once, for someone's trust in him to be validated. This gives him the strength to make his way over to the chair and run his fingers over the crown of the machine, the way Diana did in his place years ago. She and his spectral form, they are both ghosts, buried in a simulated Mars. "You won't get hurt. That's a promise." He'll pull the trigger as steadily as he can whenever Albert is ready to sit.

[silberfuchs]

Sigma's relief is immediate and palpable and Albert knows he's made the right decision. If anything, this should foster some sort of trust between them, if only to save Sigma from his own nightmares. Only Albert's not prepared for the honesty in that gratitude, for the look in the man's eye that expresses a real debt.

"No, you don't. Not everyone can handle situations like this and even less should have to." Sigma doesn't look like a coward to Albert. He simply looks wrung out, exhausted to the edge of his endurance, and the cyborg has to wonder if Sigma was stuck in a similar situation to Doctor Gilmore. Possessed of a vision for a bright future but manipulated into using his skills for evil instead. Did he believe something similar to the Capitol lie, believe that sacrificing a few to save the many was a valid path? Albert can't ask directly, not without making them both look suspect.

He levels a steady gaze on his companion for a moment, taking in his promise of safety, then nods as if to solidify the moment. Without other hesitation, he allows Sigma to pull the trigger slowly to half way and settles himself into the chair.

The gun remains level with his eye. It's disconcerting, even knowing it's a dream.

[twoklimmen]

Sigma answers Albert with silence, though he finds his words quite wise. He'd always been critical of his own inability to thrive in the Arena... for he'd won two games before ever stepping foot in Panem, and surviving long enough to protect his children should not have been a difficult task. But when they became one's livelihood, it was almost too easy to forget that these games were abominations. No one should ever have had to suffer through them, and the blame was not on him for failing but on the first of their kind for ever setting their fate into motion...

The start of the trial is one of the most difficult parts, for one could easily pull the trigger too far back as they opened the chair, obliterating their poor volunteer as he sat down. Fortunately Sigma knows better than to test his luck, and the test begins without incident. Once Albert is seated, Sigma relaxes his finger to rest the clamps around Albert's body, his free hand sealing him in by locking the collar of needles around his neck. The collar was not connected with trigger, but acted as a guard against wriggling outside of the line of fire. With every piece set in place, the countdown on their bracelets jumps suddenly to one second - and begins its steady, screaming march upward to nine minutes.

If his trap had been rigged to become more difficult to hold over time, to ensure that the man who had come to save the world would fail, Sigma knew not of it. This trigger remains steady, and as numbers on their bracelets grow, it is easy to gain confidence. Cold sweat drips from Sigma's forehead onto Albert's shoulder, but his will does not fail him.

After a tense moment of silence, Sigma sighs, low and deep. See? This was fine. They were well on their way. "...How are you doing down there, Heinrich? Hoping my finger holds out, I bet." Injecting some sarcasm into the situation should communicate that he is fine. He hopes his partner has realized by now that if he'd planned on killing him, the earliest and easiest opportunity to do so had passed. "Since we're not going anywhere for awhile, would you mind if I talked?" He drums the fingernails of his free hand on the collar nervously, in time with the beat of their bracelet's beeping.

[silberfuchs]

The chair closes around him and Albert takes a slow breath, careful not to let his lungs expand too much against the restraints lest they trigger something he hasn't taken into account. It seems to do nothing more than center him though, a breath in, a breath out and then stillness.

"Naturally, though I have to congratulate you on your resolve. You could have just killed me and moved on." He smirks wryly, well aware that a joke like that with so much truth to it will likely make Sigma uncomfortable, but there's also a note of gratitude there, a knowledge that they do both know one another for their real identities and are playing a very dangerous game. But they are playing, which bodes well. Even moreso with Sigma's request to talk. If they're able to actually communicate any information, that's where it will be, in the seemingly random ramblings of a terrified dream Tribute.

"By all means. Whatever makes things easier." Though he does wish he wouldn't drum his fingers on the collar. Any unnecessary touching of the thing should probably be avoided.

[twoklimmen]

Sigma had nearly waited out his patience searching for a window of opportunity, a chance to share his message with the Rebellion, and here it was at last. If it were the Capitol that put him here to waste away in his terror, they would know how it felt when the dog bit back. "I guess you could say trust is important to me." It would be a comical statement to anyone who knew about his history of lies and betrayal, but after all this time, Sigma still considers it the truth. "You put your life in my hands - literally." Even at the end the road Sigma takes time to dwell on his stupid jokes. "...So I think I can do the same with you." He finds himself staring off into the edges of the nightmare, lost in thought, stepping backwards link by link through the chain of events that led him here. "Man, where to begin..." It was probably for the best that Albert sat in the chair. He wonders if he'd been the one down there now, if Albert wouldn't have just pulled the trigger the moment he opened his mouth.

"I should say I know where you're from, and I'm glad you're here. I've been waiting a damn long time to talk to someone from Thirteen," he says finally. "I want to help. I have information. You don't even have to do anything, just say that you'll listen." After such an exercise, he's done with making bargains.

[silberfuchs]

It would be important, if preying on the trust of others is how you keep yourself going. Manipulating people into decisions they wouldn't otherwise end up making based on their trust in you. So yes, Albert does believe Sigma, though perhaps not in the exact way he's thinking.

Sigma says the name of Thirteen and Albert frowns deeply. If they're being monitored by the Capitol in any way, Sigma's just given himself up, which is a stupid move no matter who's side he's on but especially so if he's truly playing this game for the Rebellion. He half expects the dream to wink out around them, but perhaps Sigma knows something he doesn't. Perhaps he knows who's watching. Or, more accurately, who isn't.

Even so, he doesn't nod, just waits with rapt attention for Sigma to continue.

"I'll listen."

[twoklimmen]

For a Nobel-laureate, Sigma was not particularly intelligent. Insightful and occasionally clever, perhaps, but any man could win himself an award if he spent five decades imprisoned in research. He is more than willing to press on blindly based on a hunch - even when the penalty is death, and especially when the opportunity may never come again. Perhaps there was something to be said in the fact that he still saw himself as an impulsive, emotional young man instead of the wise old doctor he’d been coached into becoming.

At any rate, he's having difficulty reading Albert's credulity, and prefaces himself. “I’m not sure what I could say to convince you to believe me. Hell, maybe you already know, and I'm putting a noose around my neck for nothing," he begins, darkly sarcastic. "Anyway, I couldn't live with myself if someone died 'coz I kept my stupid mouth shut, so here goes: almost every street in the Capitol has been set with traps to ward off an invasion. Mines, gas, homing missiles... Sick shit you couldn’t begin to imagine. They are prepared to annihilate the rebels at any cost. I don't think they care how many of their own people get caught in the crossfire." Just like his nonary game: an orderly, autonomous set of dominoes rigged to fall in just the right way. Difficult to predict unless one could, somehow, preview the pattern. "It'll be impossible to get to Snow without massive loss of life on both sides... Unless you know the layout going in." He feels, for the first time since his conversation with the Initiate, useful. Like he's actively holding back the death count instead of contributing to it. Comparatively, he doesn't know much, but what he does know will be invaluable to someone.

"Uh, I'd draw you a map, but my dominant hand is sorta occupied, you know?" He clicks his tongue between his teeth disapprovingly. There's a 'that's what she said' joke in there somewhere. "Let's hope your memory is as good as your composure..."

[silberfuchs]

This is something Albert's discovered about people in general. He's not a genius himself, but give anyone the time to apply themselves to an intellectual pursuit and they retain the knowledge. It's why he can pass himself off as something of a scholar; that didn't happen thanks to a natural aptitude, but instead because he's just so old that he's had the time to read up on most things. It's not the mark of natural intelligence, but instead of a lonely life. One they've both lead in their disparate ways.

Because of this but in spite of himself, Albert believes him. He believes him because there is little to gain but everything to lose for Sigma unless he's being coached to spread this information. Which is something to gain, so when Albert passes this information to Barnes he'll preface it with that remark, but it's too important to ignore so out of hand that he doesn't hear it. If Sigma is being truthful, then it's invaluable.

"I can't say I'm surprised Snow doesn't care who suffers for his safety. Luckily I have an exceptional memory." Thanks to being able to play back things that he hears through the brainwave recorder implanted in his head. He's now sure how that will translate to the waking world, but if he retains even a fraction of the information he's about to hear, it will be a help. "Go ahead."