thecapitol | woosh

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woosh

Who| The Batter, OTA
What| Roller coasters? Nah, Duck Hunt and Pong.
Where| in the Capitol, exploring the carnivale and arcade.
When| July 30th
Warnings/Notes| TBA, nothing of note yet.

This isn't exactly what he had in mind. He supposes there's only so much training and exercise one can do over the course of a few days, and he still hasn't managed to change his preference from blunt instruments to something a little more efficient - a blade, perhaps, something sharp for a quick and efficient end. But practice is practice, and when the time comes, he's more than prepared for the task.

The world here is strange, but he's accustomed to it. The rules are different, but he will abide by them. It is not his place to question, to have cause for concern, he simply follows and does as higher authority commands. He can sense the darkness, the impurities tarnishing a once great land, and if it is his duty to cleanse it and prove his worth in the arenas, he considers it an honour.

But the arcade and carnivale is a little more than unexpected. It somehow reminds him of home, as he walks along the pier and watches the roller coasters zoom by. He almost wants to go wait in line for it. But that would be ridiculous.

He's in the arcade now, a plastic, bright orange handgun in his hand and a pixelated brown dog congratulating him on his kill - the Batter has never seen real purple ducks, but it's a possibility in this world. The game isn't difficult, but he's more than half tempted to shoot the damn dog whenever it laughs at him for a missed shot. Stupid thing.

There's evidence he's been there a while. A collection of trinkets and plushes are gathered at his feet, toys that he has no use for and will not keep. But dammit, he's going to beat this game and every game in the arcade if he has to. A waste of time, but no video game is going to laugh at him and get away with it.

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Arya frowns a little as she watches him - tempted to shoot the dog herself too. "That's nothing like really shooting."

Oh-- a child. Of course, children would find more entertainment in such ridiculous pastimes. Though her comment on shooting has him curious and after he takes another shot (stupid dog--) he turns his attention back to her.

"It's a pitiful excuse at best. It doesn't even sound right at all."

She looks at the plastic guns and around at the lights of the arcade. "They should make it realistic, if they're going to do it at all."

She seems knowledgeable on the subject. It's intriguing, but not entirely surprising - what he knows of this land is that it encourages violent behaviour even in the younger generations, and considering that, it's probably better this way. Never hurts to have a method of defense.

"We are in agreement." Even saying that, he offers the plastic, bright orange gun to her. "Did you want to try it?"

She takes the gun from him, turning it over in her hands and frowning disapprovingly at it. She's only used one a couple of times, in the ice Arena when one had quite literally fallen from the sky and landed at her feet in a little silver parachute. She'd loved the sense of control that came with holding it, knowing that she was on even footing with everyone else, and didn't need to worry about most of them being physically bigger and stronger than her when she aimed it at them.

"It shouldn't feel this light. Does that make it more difficult to aim?"

She's taking this all far more seriously than an arcade game merits.

All right, her knowledge of rifles and weaponry is more than what he'd expected, but it's impressive and he makes a note of it. If he is one day to face her in these arenas, he knows better than to underestimate her. All the better then.

"It's only a toy, meant for smaller and weaker hands," he answers, folding his arms. A part of him does wonder if she's better at this game than him, being a child and all, but it's a stupid kid's arcade game and it doesn't matter if he beats his score.

"I imagine there would be more regulations in place were it an actual rifle. Though it takes away from the experience."

Sandy didn't spend a lot of time in the arcade any more, now that she had to pay for her own food it seemed like it might be a waste of money.

However she'd recently finalized a deal with a clothing brand that wanted her to model some of their things in commercials so she felt like she'd earned the reward.

The problem however was the "Sand Sisters" that seemed to flock to her when she was in places like this. Sometimes they were perfectly friendly, and other times they would swarm her and make her feel uncomfortably anxious. Today they were swarming and buzzing about like she was a planet and they were in her gravitation pull.

In an effort to put a little distance between them and her she ducked around an arcade cabinet, slid between two others and tripped over some toys and plushies someone had left on the floor. This sent her tumbling in a most ungraceful fashion.

If the girl was trying to hide, she was certainly doing a poor job of it.

Not only was she clearly visible in the cabinet's reflection, but the trip and subsequent tumble to the floor had more than caused a scene. Sure, he probably could've put his pile of collectibles and trinkets somewhere else, but he preferred to keep an eye on them so no one would steal them. Despite the fact that he wasn't planning on keeping them, anyway.

"Children should watch where they're going," the Batter says in a firm tone, returning his attention to the game and shooting at the next group of accursed purple ducks. "You could hurt yourself like that."

Her face burned red as she picked herself up off the floor and glanced in the direction of her fan base who were rounding the corner looking extremely worried.

"Yeah well maybe other children shouldn't leave their toys on the ground if they actually care about them." She grumbled aiming a half hearted kick at a plush monster that bounced harmlessly off her foot and the arcade cabinet to land on The Batter's toes.

-- okay point, they are children's toys, it is only logical to assume that the pile on the floor belongs to another child. It's a thought that only occurs to him after she says it, and suddenly the small collection of plush bears and other trinkets is far less appealing. What could he possibly use these for? He's not a child.

"Do you want them?" he asks with a shrug, brow furrowed. This is such a ridiculous pastime. He's not learning anything from it. This isn't training or weapon practice - it's not even a real gun. "I've no need for them."

She was about to question why he went to all the trouble to win them, when her fans surged around the corner.

"Yes thank you!" She scooped up the toys in her arms and brought them to the crowd like some form of sacrifice to appease their tribe.

The girls squealed and each took a toy, even fighting over the larger ones. Sandy just seemed greatful to give them something to focus on.

... well. That's one way to dispose of a bunch of needless, unnecessary toys.

The Batter watches the plushie frenzy for a few moments, seemingly baffled by the sheer insanity of it all. There's a part of him that finds it almost endearing, but it's a very small, miniscule part of him and he silences it quickly with a scoff. Stupid and pointless, all of it.

"Glad to see they will be of some use," the Batter replies, a bit puzzled but mostly irritated - all that squealing is awfully shrill. "Companions of yours?"

Sandy's glad to, it's almost enough to make her feel bad for seizing the opportunity so swiftly. But the girls seem content and she smiles apologetically at The Batter.

"The Sand Sisters." She held up a leather hand made bracelet with the same words stamped into it. "Fans of mine who get a little excited when I'm hanging out in the same places they do."

The girls affirmed this by squealing excitedly before going back to their squabbles and excited giggling.

"Sand Sisters." He repeats the name, sounding confused but not overly enthused. He never is.

The concept of fans is a little strange, especially for an otherwise seemingly bland and ordinary girl, but it's not his place to question these things. The Batter eyes the bracelet she shows him, an eyebrow raising - an odd mark of leadership, cheap and clearly not a real symbol of any authority. Pitiful, really.

"They seem bothersome." And shrill. "Perhaps you should have them removed."

Her face somehow fell even more and she stood a little straighter like she was being cornered.

"I can't do that, they're perfectly fine here just...a little worked up." She defended them and then under breath mentioned "And I need all the support I can get in the arena." And the Sand Sisters had drummed up support any number of times.

Ah. So they were a support system. Likely not a system with many benefits in the arenas themselves, but for some, emotional and moral support helped in other ways that he simply could not understand. Or tolerate. Were he armed at the moment, that incessant shrieking would be silenced immediately.

"I see."

One of the toys is dropped again, rolling on the floor to land near his feet, and the Batter only regards it for a moment before giving it a light kick back towards the group. He'd rather not get any closer.

"If it is what works for you, then it works for you."

"It's one way of doing things." She agreed, and then deciding it was rude not to introduce herself to a guy who had just helped her out "I'm Sandy Marko, District 12. Nice to meet you." She offered a warm smile and a held out hand for shaking.

Hand shaking. Right, that was a common form of greeting in most lands. He can't recall if he's ever done it himself before, but he can give it a try.

"I am called the Batter," he answers, grasping her hand maybe a little too firmly for his first known handshake ever, though the way he awkwardly raises their hands up and back down is proof he's a bit of a novice on the concept. "I don't believe the same could be said."

This handshake is somehow even more mechanical then the time she shook hands with a literal robot who was a tribute once. She's all too happy to have her hand back but don't think she missed that little barb at the end. It's enough to make her smile fade.

"Batter huh? So do you play on a team or something? Do you play any field positions too or just...batting?"

Even in the crappy version of New York she's from, baseball is still a big deal.

She certainly knows how to bring up the questions that really make him think, that's for sure.

The Batter's stare is a long and puzzled one, indeed. It's not that he doesn't understand the concept of what she's talking about, because the game is familiar to him. But the fact remains that he simply cannot recall a time he's ever played the sport in the first place. His bat is not for sport, it is a weapon.

"It is the name assigned to me by the creator," he eventually does answer. "I'm not on a team."

"Creator?" Ok now we've steered from uncanny valley handshakes into possibly not human territory.

"So wait...you were created? By who? For what?"

He wouldn't be the first person she's met in the last two weeks who was created. And if his reasons were as dark as her districtmate who happened to be a bunch of souls bound together to kill people...well this next arena was gonna get interesting.

Oh, one can only hope the girl has the time and patience to deal with the response that's coming.

"Hugo."

-- it's an odd name on his lips now. It feels as if centuries had past before he'd last spoken it, and yet it comes naturally as though nothing is changed. He's not sure what to call the odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he brushes it off and continues, explaining what he can to sate the girl's curiosity.

"He created us to assist the Guardians in building a new world after the calamity," the Batter carries on, not entirely unaware of how strange the whole thing must sound. "He was a child. We were given new life to keep the world pure and safe from ruination."

Patience she has, time might be another story. But for now...

"That sounds...pretty heavy. What was the calamity? What were you going to do to keep things pure?" She had been here long enough now and spoken to enough people to hear about the death of worlds multiple times. Sometimes through war, other times through natural disaster. But most often it was the fault of humanity. An ominous fact that had not been lost on Sandy's young mind.

"It was before my time," the Batter continues. To anyone else, it would be troubling, not knowing the details of such a significant event of their home world's past, but the Batter is almost disturbingly unaffected by it. As he is by pretty much anything.

"The details were not necessary," he explains, leaning down to pick up one of the discarded toys. Maybe some other child will want it. "My only task was to destroy the impure beings tarnishing my homeland's grace. I did not hold back."

It is a bit unsettling to speak with someone so...cold. Unmoved and unmotivated by the sorts of things that normal people would speak about with passion. He was starting to make Sandy's skin crawl.

"So since you can't do those things here how are you just totally not losing your mind? Have you already found a new purpose?"

The Hunger Games did seem plenty capable of forcing people to re-evaluate their lives.

"My purpose is to be my district's victor in the arena, when the time calls for it," came the Batter's quick, equally unemotional response. It really was as simple as that. Once he was victorious, it was hard to say what came after that. But all of his focus was spent on the immediate road ahead, and what would follow, would follow.

"I would imagine the same could be said for yourself," he continues, keeping the toy in one arm as he turns to face her again. "Is it not the purpose of all of us newcomers here? Victory in the arena?"

If it's not, this city sure is sending out the wrong signals.

Sandy had to take a moment to decide if this guy was drinking the Capitol Kool-aid or if he simply didn't know better. It was impossible to say for sure.

"Well yeah, most of us want that. No more death, no more starving, at least until they put the mentors back in for a special arena." As that had happened twice now it was more or less confirmed being a mentor did not make you any safer then being a tribute.

"But some people don't want to win. They just want to try and...I dunno hold onto their humanity you know?"

Which was a drawn out way of saying they didn't want to kill anyone or be manipulated.

"Honestly at this point all I ever aim to do is survive."

They just want to try and hold on to their humanity.

What a strange concept. The Batter's not sure what to think of it, but there's a great deal he doesn't know what to think about in this world. The people here are so very different, they have odd ways of thinking that are foreign to him, and that means there's really only one explanation for it.

"Then I am not human."

If he has no humanity to hold onto, after all.

"Survival is all that those of lesser strength can hope to accomplish," he answers, cold as ever. "Even then, it is a fool's hope."

And with that, this guy has moved one notch further down into the category of "People Sandy does not like"

"I don't think it's foolish." She retorted "I've been here long enough to see that there's lots of different kinds of strength. Fighting and killing isn't always the best way to win."

She braced herself and then cast a wary glance towards the peacekeepers but they'd finally gotten bored and moved along. That was a small comfort. Saying these sorts of things even in a tactical sense wasn't exactly smiled upon.

Leonidas wasn’t too sure if this was the right Tribute but the new reports stated a man with a sport uniform that was anachronistic for the Capitol. Spotting him in the arcade was…not something he expected out of an athlete but he’ll roll with it. The man had impressive aim in the video game but now he had to see how much of it translated to combat. District 2 had a less than stellar run in the last Arena, so all Tributes had to be checked out and prepped for any incoming mess.

“Subject Name: Batter?” Cora called out as soon as the level ended. “Or is there another name to refer to you?” This was a man that took no shit when it came to Tributes, offworld or native.

Subject name is an interesting choice of greeting, but it certainly gets the Batter's attention. He's just finishing the next round of squawking ducks before setting the plastic gun back in the cabinet's holder, turning to focus his attention on the man approaching him instead. An authority figure, clearly. Perhaps he can get some form of guidance or direction from him.

"I am known only as the Batter," he answers as he steps forward, doing his best to look presentable. Upright, squared shoulders, and an air of confidence and determination to his tone. "Is there something you require of me?"

"Yes, there is," Leo answered promptly, giving the Tribute an assessment. The man before him had an athletic build, and from the records, had an impressive history. Now he had to see if the trip to Panem dulled any of it.

"I am Leonidas Cora, Trainer to District 2 an assistant to Mentor Torin Byrd. I was notified that you were assigned to my District and I am here to evaluate your combat skills as Tribute," he stated without missing a beat. No doubt this one would be replacing Jet Link as the promising one he could market to the Sponsors but now, there was a level of respect. "Will you come with me to the Training Center?"

Ah. So he was correct in assuming the man was in a position of authority. A trainer and mentor's assistant, of his own district at that. The man commanded respect and obedience, no doubt, and if this was to be his new assigned path in this world, he wasn't going to cause any objections. Not just yet, at any rate. But it was a good idea to be on his best behaviour, if he was going to be assessed.

"As you wish," the Batter answers firmly, short and to the point as ever, nodding his head and stepping away from the arcade cabinet to follow this Leonidas to the training center. The pile of toys that remains is left there - he has no use for them. He doesn't know why he collected so many in the first place.

The Batter was an interesting read, something about purification through violent means, so Leo asks point blank, "What was your purpose in your world? Which weapon do you prefer in combat? I can only assure the more mundane things but it seems you have a preference for blunt force trauma."

This is the Batter's moment to impress the trainer and ensure that, while new, he can be a formidable Tribute.

The question does give him reason to pause and think back for a moment, of his life before arrival here. Reflecting hasn't exactly been a favourite pastime of his, but everything he did was what had to be done. He isn't at all remorseful of his actions.

"I travelled from the various zones of my home world, to destroy the corrupt beings and impure souls inhabiting it," the Batter explains, as forward as he can be. "There were countless horrid creatures, all of them foul and desecrated. Though I was successful in my quest, and my home world is now purged and pure of all tainted souls, it was at the cost of my own life."

Among others. But the Batter shrugs it off and continues.

"I am most skilled with my bat, and I lament its loss. A similar weapon would certainly ensure my victory."

Color Cora impressed from the way the Batter described his accomplishments in sacrifice and protecting one's ideals. "So you were in a religious quest to purify your world? How did you figure which souls were pure, and those who were not? A bat may be harder to send out to the arena but I can manage other items, as long as they belong in the theme."

There were gaps in the story, many of them concerning the death toll, there had to be a way to spin it all around for the Sponsors....this Tribute could be the first one in a while that coule be actually loyal to the Capitol.

His quest was indeed a holy one, assigned to him by the divine beings of his home world. Here, such is not the case - the rulers here are the highest authority, but they are not divinity, and he'll not give them the same respect. More than the other tributes and citizens here, of course, as they are still the ones assigning his quests and tasks, but they are only human.

"I can tell," the Batter answers, simple and blunt. "Their words, their mannerisms, their existence. I can see their souls, inky black like smoke."

The mention of his bat - or at least, a similar weapon of sorts - does perk his interest. "It would be appreciated. A club, if not my bat."

Leo was counting on somehow exploiting the tells from what the Batter claimed to be a holy mission in the Arena but he's got a better one. "If I were to tell you that these games carry a deeper purpose, one of pride and survival, what would you say to that? Would you agree to survive, to do what it takes to seize the crown?"

And the bigger question, "How far are you willing to go for an order?"

It's exactly those words that peak the Batter's interest. A holy and divine mission is one thing, but it would be false - these people are no prophets, no divine order from them would be worth their salt. But pride, proving his worth to authorities and peasants alike, it would demand respect. He can't help but feel intrigued at the prospect.

"I've not let anything stop me in the past," he answers firmly, resting a hand on his hip. "A crown holds no meaning to me. I will reign victorious no matter what reward is offered."

This is what Leo looks for in a Tribute within the Arena, and he can't help the quick smirk on his face when he hears the Batter's answer. Pride and commands, this is what drives this man to do what needs to be done.

"A crown here is a symbol for the people you will be fighting for. You would be recognized as a Victor among the past, maybe remembered for centuries for your dedication to Panem. Are you willing to kill anything that stands in your path, including children?" Not one of the palatable topics in an interview.

It appears as though he's doing well. The Batter doesn't always look for recognition or praise - it's unnecessary, it doesn't grant him instant victory, it's useless to him. But knowing that his authorities see him as an asset, as someone who will bring honour and victory to their district, he can't help feeling a little smug about it.

"It's not stopped me before," he answers without hesitation. Adults, children, monsters, and any variation between were of no issue. "I'll not let anything stand in the way of my victory. I can assure you of that."

...One last question but this was more for Leo's peace of mind and not have a repeat of the Worst Game in the history of Panem. "Do you enjoy killing and causing pain onto your opponents?" There's devotion to one's duty, the other is to take delight and diminished the value of the sacrifices in the coach's eyes. "You're a promising Tribute, Batter, more than I initially thought...though your public relations skills are atrocious. The winner of the Arenas must be able to represent their District properly. If not, he'll be forgotten and their work will turn into dust."

"I don't enjoy anything."

His answer about sums up everything there is to know about the Batter. He wants nothing, he feels nothing, his only purpose is to accomplish his mission and in the end remain the victor. Everything he'd done in his home world was a means to an end, and little more than that. The comment about his public relation skills has one eyebrow arching, but the Batter shrugs it off.

"If it is a necessary step on my path to victory, I will learn," the Batter continues, folding his arms over his chest. "Otherwise, I see no point."

That answer is both alarming and exactly what Leo needed to hear in regards to the Tribute before him.

"If that commitment has any weight to it, then I'll set you up with a public relations expert and you will pay attention to what he has to say. I, on the other hand, can only ensure your needs in the Arena are met, especially with the weapons and supplies. Whether you want it or not, you'll be getting food drops as well. Impress the sponsors and the Capitol, they will further your trek into the Arena."

He then added with a hint of caution, "But remember this, your survival depends on the odds. Nothing can account for sheer bad luck. Are we clear?"

It's probably alarming to hear from a complete stranger, if the circumstances were any different. But the Batter's complete emotional detachment from the world around him probably made him the ideal tribute - he was careful and calculated, strong, and carried no guilt or remorse for his actions, no matter how horrible they might be.

"So it shall be," the Batter answers, more as a confirmation to himself than anything. This is officially his next mission, and while not divine or holy in any form, it isn't as if he has a choice in the matter. If he has to suffer through public relations training first, then fine, he'll do what he must and excel in the arenas like he expects to. Luck, bah, he doesn't believe in the stuff.

"You will not be disappointed."

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woosh

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think it's a good place to wrap up?

works for me!