Albert Heinrich (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silberfuchs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2016-03-15 11:19 am
silberfuchs) wrote in thecapitol2016-03-15 11:19 am
Entry tags:
[Closed] We gotta get out of this place
Who| Jet and Albert
What| Touching base, future plans
Where| The detainment center exercise yard
When| Before the assassination plot
Warnings/Notes| Mentions of terrible Capitol shit. Will be more specific as needed.
It's raining.
Albert keeps to the edges of the exercise yard, keeping dry but watching the drops make puddles in the slight deviations of concrete that makes up the ground. It's more familiar than the rain dripping off of the branches outside District 13, having grown up in the city as Albert had, but it's less appealing still. He feels trapped, in this rare instance where he allows himself to feel what is. Sam's gone - thankfully so. Not only can he get the information he'd discovered back to Thirteen but he's also out of the scientists' hands, able to adjust better without fear that the Capitol will return him to that lab and try to rewire him again - but Albert feels his loss sharply. It's just him and Jet now, and while Albert had at one time thought that was all he'd ever need, he misses his ragtag family in the dull ache of missing pieces.
He tries to distract himself, push ups and sit ups and running usually, but he doesn't care to get sopping wet in the effort today. Instead, he stands with a cigarette in his fingers, one of the blessed heinous Capitol things Punchy had left with him. The butt burns with a myriad of colors and the smoke he exhales gallops away from him in the shape of actual horses. But it's something to do with his mouth and hands and the nicotine makes him feel better, fills those holes in him for seconds at a time an numbs the ache. It's only long enough to feel it more strongly a moment later, but it's at least something.
At least, at least. All they have right now is at least.
He's been trying to gather information, in his own way. It feels less like spying and more like simply keeping his eyes and ears open, but he supposes that's what actual espionage is like. He'd been a special case as a cyborg soldier, their missions far more cartoonish in practice than he cares to admit. Who would believe they'd faced off against giant ice serpents or the ghost of an Incan princess? Perhaps that's why he has trouble accepting the mundane on some level even as he craves it. But he wants it on his terms. Either way, he hasn't heard much as of late. He'll have to redouble his efforts without sneaking about or listening at doors.
At least (there's that phrase again...) he's been a little productive in that he's found a place or two without microphones, or at least where they'd be hard pressed to hear anything over ambient noise. Take where he stands, for example. The weather through this overhang, since it's configured just so, makes it nearly impossible to hear anything that goes on in that corridor over the patter of water and the high-pitched wail of the wind through a door that's been cracked every so slightly to cause the noise.
He waits for there in his little deaf spot, burning down his cigarette to its last ember and watching the resulting horse-shaped trails of smoke lose their substance in the rain.
What| Touching base, future plans
Where| The detainment center exercise yard
When| Before the assassination plot
Warnings/Notes| Mentions of terrible Capitol shit. Will be more specific as needed.
It's raining.
Albert keeps to the edges of the exercise yard, keeping dry but watching the drops make puddles in the slight deviations of concrete that makes up the ground. It's more familiar than the rain dripping off of the branches outside District 13, having grown up in the city as Albert had, but it's less appealing still. He feels trapped, in this rare instance where he allows himself to feel what is. Sam's gone - thankfully so. Not only can he get the information he'd discovered back to Thirteen but he's also out of the scientists' hands, able to adjust better without fear that the Capitol will return him to that lab and try to rewire him again - but Albert feels his loss sharply. It's just him and Jet now, and while Albert had at one time thought that was all he'd ever need, he misses his ragtag family in the dull ache of missing pieces.
He tries to distract himself, push ups and sit ups and running usually, but he doesn't care to get sopping wet in the effort today. Instead, he stands with a cigarette in his fingers, one of the blessed heinous Capitol things Punchy had left with him. The butt burns with a myriad of colors and the smoke he exhales gallops away from him in the shape of actual horses. But it's something to do with his mouth and hands and the nicotine makes him feel better, fills those holes in him for seconds at a time an numbs the ache. It's only long enough to feel it more strongly a moment later, but it's at least something.
At least, at least. All they have right now is at least.
He's been trying to gather information, in his own way. It feels less like spying and more like simply keeping his eyes and ears open, but he supposes that's what actual espionage is like. He'd been a special case as a cyborg soldier, their missions far more cartoonish in practice than he cares to admit. Who would believe they'd faced off against giant ice serpents or the ghost of an Incan princess? Perhaps that's why he has trouble accepting the mundane on some level even as he craves it. But he wants it on his terms. Either way, he hasn't heard much as of late. He'll have to redouble his efforts without sneaking about or listening at doors.
At least (there's that phrase again...) he's been a little productive in that he's found a place or two without microphones, or at least where they'd be hard pressed to hear anything over ambient noise. Take where he stands, for example. The weather through this overhang, since it's configured just so, makes it nearly impossible to hear anything that goes on in that corridor over the patter of water and the high-pitched wail of the wind through a door that's been cracked every so slightly to cause the noise.
He waits for there in his little deaf spot, burning down his cigarette to its last ember and watching the resulting horse-shaped trails of smoke lose their substance in the rain.
no subject
"They have no real reason to trust us, which could well be a reason to remove us from here. This facility - prison - is a dirty little secret and to take ourselves from it might hinder our ability to get information." It's not as if they're locked in the place all of the time; they do have run of the city so long as they behave, and they have behaved insofar as the Capitol has asked thus far.
Well, for the most part, but Albert has been careful in his dealings. By all accounts any conversations with Sigma or Phi or anyone else have been superficial at best, setting up his willingness to be manipulated by the Capitol for the sake of Jet's safety. It's an easy cover because on some level its true.
All of that are reasons to take into account, but what really seals it as a poor idea to Albert is the disdain in Jet's voice when he finishes talking about it, the dissonance it causes that could just be in Albert hearing Jet talk like that, or could really be Jet remembering that he's never been one to back down from a fight, not when it concerns true injustice. He can't take Jet away and risk falling into a complacent huddle, as tempting as it is. If Jet's going to truly find himself again, this is probably the better way to do it. It's closer to what their lives were like before Panem regardless.
"I can help you from here, then, and we can continue our efforts. Maybe plan ahead a bit if possible, get people back to Thirteen in the confusion of battle, that sort of thing."
no subject
He nodded. "I'll be fine, Al." He may not feel it or think it, but it would be true someday, it had to be, he couldn't allow anything less. He'd put himself back together in the past and that had even been by himself or while holding Albert together, with Albert's help, surely he could do it again and be the kind of support his partner needed on their new mission.
"So...crisis aside, what's the plan? Mess their shit up quietly and then bust out if the chance arises?" And if the chance didn't arise? Well...they'd find something. Of course, it was less to do with the chance arising and more to do with that chance showing up when they could both escape. Jet sure as hell wasn't going to bail without Albert and he didn't hold any delusion Albert might take the chance for himself if it rolled along.
no subject
"I've made some contacts, but we could use more. With so many of the Districts already warzones, I doubt the rest will wait much longer in falling to one side or the other. What we need - the rebellion needs - is a foothold in the Capitol. Eventually it will all have to lead here, and at that time they'll need help. Even now, if we can share information where we can, it would give them an advantage they didn't have before."
no subject
"Okay. I'll see what ground I can cover. There's some people who wanted to meet and talk back before, some Capitolite or other, I can answer their social call and see what it gets me." Information or simply another contact. Maybe nothing. But what else where they going to do but talk? It was all they had right now.
But he didn't plan to take a step without checking with Albert first. They'd promised. He hated that he needed to remind himself over and over again, but it was better than forgetting and rushing off blind.
"Speakeasy's still a good place too, even if it's been a little quieter recently."
no subject
He purses his lips, mulling over Jet's offer to meet up with Capitolites who had contacted him before. "You could do that, but be careful. I don't want it mistaken for" - he clears his throat - "Another sort of invitation."
The rebellion is one thing, they'll both have to put their lives on the line, but something more personal than their lives is more Albert's worry, especially in Jet's improving but still vulnerable state.
no subject
"Honestly, with our rep in this town, they'd likely be more interested in seeing us kissing each other than me kissing someone else." But he doubted that would make his partner feel any better about it. "I won't meet any of em anywhere private or possibly dangerous. They'll probably just talk about themselves the whole time anyhow."
no subject
Better that he doesn't have to find some dirty Capitolite and break their neck. He lets that vindictive thought settle at the back of his mind instead of nursing it.
"I'll do what I can around here with other off-worlders. It would be odd to see me around town without out, considering. Apparently I've become a hermit or so the gossip goes."
no subject
He supposed it made sense. Before, Albert had been working his personable side to gain favor while Jet was too grumpy and vindictive to play their game, so he used his silence in public situations to his advantage and hid in Albert's social shadow. Now, he'd spent a few solid weeks not knowing any better to keep his mouth closed, so he'd been more personable himself while Albert was more measured. An odd thought but it made him smile.
"Before you know it, we'll have our own little network like a good couple of spies." And then, if their web stretched far enough, they'd be able to flip this city over.
no subject
"You have the experience in that regard. I'm just a soldier, you at least worked for an organization that did this sort of thing regularly."
no subject
He shrugged. "We'll get it done because we're determined. We've gotten through worse plans on less."
no subject
He nods, putting out his cigarette in a puddle on the ground and watching the smoke rise in distorted shapes from the moisture, horses dissolving into regular smoke in whorls and eddies. "We'll make it. Something's going to snap, I can feel it, and when it does I want to be in a position to guide which way it falls."