Now, you shall deal with me, O Prince, and all the powers of Hell.

[the_hit_list]

Who| Tim Drake-Wayne and OPEN
What| The dragon attack on the tributes is shown live at a party. Tim is forced to eventually witness Stephanie Brown's death. He is not happy.
Where| A random Capitol party. Feel free to claim it as something your character threw together, or make up details as you go.
When| Late evening. When the freaking dragon shows up.
Warnings/Notes| Probable extreme violence. The dragon nightmare will be on the viewing screens at the party. Characters may mention the Tributes getting burned, maimed, eaten, etc, as the dragon log itself unfolds. ALSO: If you want to use this thread to have two other characters watch and discuss what's going on, just let me know and I won't bring Tim into it.



Tim had begged to go to this one, as the gold-leafed invitation had proclaimed it to be an exclusive viewing party. He had hoped that there would be enough televisions that he would be able to keep a consistent eye on the games, and he was right. The ballroom - and it was a ballroom, albeit a small one, had televisions everywhere. All of the tvs were the same soft, buttery yellow that draws the eye without detracting from the beauty of the rest of the room. On the buffet tables, tiny screens sit amongst the serving platters and dessert towers, all of which hold skillfully crafted bite-sized portions. Custom-sized televisions were fit periodically into the paneling along the walls. Huge, 70" inch displays hung from the ceiling on chains that had been interwoven with ribbons and roses.

In front of these, there were U-shaped collections of comfortable chairs and loveseats gathered around round tables. This was not a party that has a focus on a large dinner, Tim surmised from the small size of the plates and tables. The party planner meant for each guest to regularly return to the buffet, perhaps meeting new people along the way, and find a different seat when they returned. By Capitol standards, the party was tame, with only quiet ambient music and no performers or dancers. A chance to celebrate on a Friday night without missing any of the late arena action while chatting about the Games, and that was the draw for the addicted attendees. The invitation had promised that all Tributes and Victors were invited, and, from the crowd, it appeared that not many had declined.

Tim had arrived an hour ago, not long after the party began, and had wandered around the room, waving occasionally at a stranger who caught him looking at them. He wanted to get the lay of the place and an estimation of the sort of Citizens who were in attendance. Wealthy was assumed, but he'd met plenty of rich at home who owed everything to the cleverness and connections of forefathers. Eventually, he had drifted to the food and then the tables, armed with two glasses of sparkling wine for the conversation.

When the dragon first broke the surface of the water, a woman screamed in shock and delight. Tim, returning to the viewing area with another glass of wine, didn't understand at first, until he looked directly at the television. A giant, black dragon was rising out of the river, water sluicing off its body. "Steph."

The flute cracked in his hand, and glass shards and wine hit the floor audibly, the room had gone quiet in awe of this show of Gamemaker ingenuity. Tim, who was slightly tipsy even if he had pretended to be worse, started to apologize profusely and was waved away from cleaning up the mess by a silent servant.

He can't stay here and watch this. It's worse than having them murder each other. That was violence that he'd seen before. That dragon would be ripping people apart in short order, Tim was sure of it. He didn't want to see it. He had to leave, now, and go anywhere that didn't have a television. Tim started edging away from everyone, towards the wall, in hopes of a discreet exit.

Comments

[the_hit_list]

"What weapons would you prefer?" Tim said conversationally. Yes, he was digging for information on other tributes, but he wasn't trying to be surreptitious about it. There was no point, if he talking with another professional. Besides, Tim was willing to offer information in trade. Anyone that used the training facility would eventually find him there working out. "I'm partial to a good bo-staff, myself, or thrown, bladed weapons like shuriken. They're custom jobs, and I don't expect to find anything like that here."

Tim was lucky, as far as back-up was concerned. He had had Bruce and Stephanie, with the comforting knowledge that Diana was out there somewhere as well. Barbara might not have trusted him if she wasn't aware of him. But it was better than a freakish monster. "I'm... not really cold-blooded."

By which he means that his exit from the Arena, if Chris saw it, was an aberration. Tim can't bring himself to say that he's not a killer. Not right now. "Is he safe? The monster? R was fairly safe."

[big_badass_hero]

"Beretta, sniper rifle... Back home I was ex-air force turned law enforcement." Though here, he's really hoping for the rifle to take out the assholes in charge, so what if it made him a murderer, maybe he'd do everyone some good.

Chris actually barked a laugh. "Don't worry I'm not going to try to right your wrongs. There's worse to deal with."

Chris had missed it, dealing with Parker had taken a lot of his time. "He's not actively attacking anyone. R's, I'm not sure what to think of him yet." Other than he really is planning at some point taking the mask off the kid and letting him loose on the game makers.

[the_hit_list]

Guns. The one weapon that Tim was positive would never appear in an arena. Steph might have found a bow, but a bow requires skill. Arrows are strictly ranged - there's a reason why the Arrow clan has taken to carrying additional weaponry lately. But for the purposes of the Hunger Games, gunshots are too quick, too tidy, too lazy a death. There's no excitement in sniper fire. A gun in the right hands - in this man's hands - wouldn't just level the playing field. IT would steamroll it.

Even Tim, who has been trained on them somewhat but without heavy amounts of target practice or anything of the kind, has used rifles with proficiency - he's able to hit a flying, human-sized target. Give them to anyone with steady hands and a working knowledge of physics. With a decent scope and enough ammo, you could take out the entire competition solo and never come within 300 yards of another tribute. Any idiot could blow someone's brains out from 10 feet.

"Law enforcement. My older brother is a cop," Tim said to steer the conversation away from his wrongs and how much that underplayed the fact that he had just murdered someone. It didn't matter if it was only temporary; there should be ramifications for it. He deserved them. The rough conditions of the arena might have explained the lapse in judgment, but it would never excuse it.

At least R doesn't have to live with his actions. Then again, who knows? Being dead doesn't make Deadman any less cognizant. "Not actively attacking is really all we can hope for. R - he confused me, when I met him. I'm not used to zombies with a protective streak."

[big_badass_hero]

Chris knew he had other skills, but part of the reason he had been brought into S.T.A.R.S. was because of his skill with a gun. Knives were okay, but getting that close reminded him too much of the events before he was pulled here. Which is probably why he still has yet to take a real kill.

Chris gave a small grin at that. "Bet he's looking for you right now too. I know I'd be tearing up the city if it was my sister here instead of me." He's just hoping that Claire's staying in school until they're supposed to meet at break. He was pretty sure she wasn't though, Claire could be just as stubborn as he was, curse of being a Redfield.

"I first saw him here, he's nothing like ones I've seen before. If it wasn't for the mask I might have mistaken him for a local with a sick sense of humor." Hey, he had been drunk at the time. R had sobered him up real quick though.

[the_hit_list]

Tim considered this and smirked. Tearing up the city was only the start of what was most likely going on at home. He'd gone incommunicado before, but never for this long with no contact with anyone. He knew that the ones that found him had always kept the rest in the loop. His absence would have been noted by now, especially now that Bruce was back. They would know that his place hadn't been touched in weeks by the moldy food in the fridge. He wasn't on the active Titans roster, but Kon, Bart, or Cassie would have called a dozen times by now. Word would leak out, and there would be a manhunt soon.

Even if he'd disappeared without a trace, he had faith in his friends. Maybe this would be solved from their end.

"Yeah, it's safe to say Gotham's getting turned inside out." And Bludhaven, and San Francisco, and anywhere Oracle can find record of him ever being. He hoped that she didn't mess with his computer too much. Note to self: re-encrypt everything when you get home. "You have them too? The ones I know all have... emotional issues."

Which was the polite way of saying they want to kill you.

[big_badass_hero]

"I'm just hoping that my team's doing okay. We went in after the Alpha team, when they lost contact. Pretty sure Barry'll keep an eye on Jill and keep her safe, but not sure about Ca... I mean Wesker." He nodded a little.

"First ones we saw were three months before I got here, we thought they were just animal attacks. But they gradually got worse, now we have the city pretty much in lock down at night. It's why my team was headed out to the woods, some hikers got lost so we were trying to find them and bring em in."

[the_hit_list]

Tim nodded along with this. He can understand being distracted by things that you left behind. The name Wesker caught his attention - there was a tribute with the same name, he'd heard the announcers say it a few times.

"The ones that we have back home... I'm not sure if they're like R, so if he's the kind you remember, I don't really have advice," Tim said carefully. "They're faster, for one, and they talk more coherently. They tend to... seek out loved ones. It's ... pretty complicated, actually. But then, there's Solomon Grundy, but again... not like R. He's over seven feet tall and weighs 500 pounds."

[big_badass_hero]

"See the ones we have... few days ago they were normal, now they're slow, missing parts, and well ever see the movie night of the living dead? Kinda like that." He looked at Tim a moment. "Five hundred pounds? Do I want to know how he got that big?"

[the_hit_list]

"I've seen parts of it. It's not really my thing, but I get the idea. Sorry to hear that it's a real thing somewhere else." Tim spun his glass a little. There was nothing to say, about

"About Grundy, well... the whole story would probably give you a headache. Anyway, it happened before I was born, so I can't vouch for the truth of it." Tim shrugged at this. Really, there was so much of his world that he didn't think would make sense to outsiders. "Magic was involved. The file technically calls it 'elemental energy.' Ordinarily, I would say that pollution of the swamp caused a mutation, but A. it was over a hundred years ago, so it's not like nuclear waste existed, and B. he was dead to begin with."

[big_badass_hero]

Chris is silent for a moment thinking over what Tim said. "Okay, really I think I like the version I'm used to more. They only last a few months, by then they're too far gone to do much damage, the virus is still hot, but the carrier can't really move fast enough to be a threat."