The Gamemakers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecapitol2013-06-21 12:41 pm
gamemakers) wrote in thecapitol2013-06-21 12:41 pm
Entry tags:
- aunamee,
- cassandra marko,
- commander shepard,
- harley quinn,
- npc: darius,
- sigma klim,
- the grand highblood,
- the signless,
- wyatt earp,
- ✘ alex rider,
- ✘ blaine anderson,
- ✘ callista ming,
- ✘ charlotte "lottie" la bouff,
- ✘ cinna,
- ✘ cuthbert allgood,
- ✘ damian wayne,
- ✘ daniel jackson,
- ✘ donatello,
- ✘ effie trinket,
- ✘ enjolras,
- ✘ howard bassem,
- ✘ ian gallagher,
- ✘ jack atlas,
- ✘ jay,
- ✘ john watson,
- ✘ kate bishop,
- ✘ lady,
- ✘ marius pontmercy,
- ✘ maximus,
- ✘ neffa a reyeth,
- ✘ neophyte redglare,
- ✘ pruna,
- ✘ r,
- ✘ sherlock holmes (bbc),
- ✘ shion,
- ✘ some ovmennet,
- ✘ stephanie brown,
- ✘ tony stark,
- ✘ topher brink
The Execution of a Traitor
Who| Everyone.
What| Ariadne's public execution.
Where| Execution is in the public square, threads in the Districts
When| Mid-morning the day before the new arena.
Warnings/Notes| Within the first cut is an execution with nerve-attacking toxins, as well and gore and gun violence. Everyone is still locked into their districts.
Starting at 9:30, in every bedroom in the training center, an alarm has started. Everyone is to wake up, everyone is to see this, and anyone who hasn't wandered out by 9:45 is awoken by an Avox and escort into the suites common area.
The TV's turn on exactly at 10.
The morning is crisp, cool, even this close to the start of summer. Even being so early there is of course a crowd gathered. A small live audience, all Capitol citizens, all thoroughly checked for security, is shown entering by the cameras, gathering before the empty stage. Peacekeepers can be seen, en mass, around the edges.
Finally Cruentus walks out, barely containing her excitement. She tries to keep on a serious mask, but looks more like a child trying to behave so she isn't take away from the Santa greeting line.
"My father, unfortunately, has business to attend to, and couldn't be here. But as the head of the Tribute program, I am here for you instead. As you all know, on the night of the crowning ceremony, one of our guests tried to assassinate our beloved head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee." She pauses, giving the crowd time to discuss that, waiting patiently for them to settle.
"Ariadne was one of our guests, one of our victors. She was someone we welcomed here, with open arms. And we will not stand for this disrespect. Her act of rebellion, though sloppy and easy to unwind, was unacceptable!"
Another pause, longer, the crowd working themselves up more.
"We will not stand for this. We will not stand for people we welcome into our city, into our homes, to injure our kin. No more!"
With a quick gesture, she summons the two avoxes, Shepard and Holly, both former mentors themselves, to bring Ariadne out to the center of the stage, bound in chains.
For everything that went wrong, Ariadne is absolutely unapologetic. She knows full well that she got sloppy, and that she shouldn't have trusted Eva as far as she could throw her - that's the only explanation, she thinks; she's blissfully oblivious to Eva's public betrayal, but she knows something went wrong somewhere down the line. She's not sorry that she got caught, nor is she sorry that she's in this position now. She caused a stir; she got things going. That's better than the waiting game that everyone else is playing. She can respect it, but it wasn't for her.
Her back still stings from the shrapnel that hit her during the blast: the way that Shepard and Holly hold her makes it impossible to ignore as she stumbles out to the stage, eyes hardened as she looks up to stare at Cruentus over anyone else. She welcomes whatever punishment she's begotten; she's not afraid.
The crowd goes wild for a long time. Booing, loud, raucous - they seem just barely controlled. Hatred comes off in waves towards Ariadne, the first true target of a growing, seething hatred that still hasn't found its purpose yet.
Cruentus lets it go on, draws it out, encourages it. Then, finally, she holds up another arm.
"For such a vile crime, we have cooked up a special little potion for our traitor. Something any of those feeling a touch rebellious might keep in mind."
Glancing back, she gestures for Penny Hsiang to come forward, flashing the other woman the smile she had been struggling to keep in.
Penny steps forward and pulls a syringe out of her wide sleeves like a magician revealing a rabbit from a hat. She holds it up high, bearing a grin that could make someone queasy if it were aimed in their direction. For a brilliant, brief moment, she is the center of attention, and even the crowd hushes slightly.
"This is a poison fit for a traitor," she announces. "It's rapid-onset, degenerative. It strips away the parts of the brain that take the oomph out of bad memories. Then it disables the part of your brain that dampens pain signals. Then it kills you."
She takes a step towards Ariadne. A Peacekeeper presents Ariadne's vein.
"Special order," Penny says as she leans in and whispers in Ariadne's ear, giggling as if she were a teenager girl discussing cute classmates and not a torturer sinking a needle into Ariadne's arm. "Just for you."
Still, the crowd's response to her makes no difference. Cruentus' words don't make any difference, and Penny's barely concealed venom doesn't either. Ariadne is unflappable in the face of her own execution, for she saw that coming; Cobb's words come back to her in that moment - dying was how you got out of a dream, dying was how he and Mal got out of Limbo - and a strange sort of calm comes to her in waves, counteracting the hatred of the crowd and all of those around her.
Ariadne doesn't even turn when Penny whispers in her ear; she's never been much for gossip or chatting idly about cute classmates. She doesn't blink when the needle sinks into her vein, though it sends a shiver down her spine that she can't control. For a moment, she wonders just how good the Capitol is at capital punishment, and how long it's going to take for this to happen. Ariadne might theoretically have all the time in the world, but that doesn't mean she wants to drag it out.
It hits the moment after her mind goes blank again, after her last thought is fully formed; her mind is forced to go blank, simply because of the level of sheer pain that wracks her body. It comes to her in spasms, in seizing that is only contained by the fact that her hands are still bound, and she's still held by the Avoxes she once knew. She doesn't scream. Instead, Ariadne bites the inside of her cheek, the inside of her lip; her teeth go through the flesh - she tastes blood - and it's still not enough to detract from the poison running through her veins. She seizes violently for all to see, every inch of her body trembling and shaking and contorting in a fashion that would make anyone cringe.
Biology had never been her strong suit, and most of Penny's explanation of it went over her head; still, she can tell when the second part of the poison starts to kick in, when the pain almost fades away, leaving her numb and still shaking where she's held, a trickle of her blood spilling down her chin from where she'd bitten her mouth to shreds. And still, she doesn't scream; still, she doesn't tear her eyes away from Cruentus.
Holly and Shepard hold her high and as still as possible as the toxin causes her to twitch, jerk in their grasp. It looks better on TV, of course, but possibly, somewhere in their reprogramming, it is also a way to give Ariadne her last bit of dignity.
When her body finally stops convulsing, when her head drops to her chest and she goes still, the crowd cheers. And Cruentus smiles, knowing her message was sent loud and clear.
Penny steps back to the corpse. A gun materializes from the wide sleeves into her hands, and she places it straight to Ariadne's cold temple and pulls the trigger. She doesn't flinch when there's a bang, nor when the blood and bits of bone and brain and gunpowder spray over Holly's Avox robes, nor when the crowd celebrates even more uproariously.
"Can never be too sure," she says quietly, then to Holly, "go clean yourself up."
It's the last bit of this particular section of footage in the broadcast.
When the viewing is over, a Peacekeeeper appears to sets a box on a table set up just for this. Opening it, within each box are several wrist cuffs, the names of Tributes carved on the inside, one for each named Tribute, a simple motif relating to the District on the outside. A neat hand-written note from Cruentus sits in the white satin in the middle of the box.
A gift, for those among us who need to remember where they are.
It is clear the Peacekeeper is there for anyone who objects to putting their cuff on. After receiving the cuff, the Tributes are permitted to wander, although those with cuffs are given 'special attention' by their Escorts.
What| Ariadne's public execution.
Where| Execution is in the public square, threads in the Districts
When| Mid-morning the day before the new arena.
Warnings/Notes| Within the first cut is an execution with nerve-attacking toxins, as well and gore and gun violence. Everyone is still locked into their districts.
Starting at 9:30, in every bedroom in the training center, an alarm has started. Everyone is to wake up, everyone is to see this, and anyone who hasn't wandered out by 9:45 is awoken by an Avox and escort into the suites common area.
The TV's turn on exactly at 10.
The morning is crisp, cool, even this close to the start of summer. Even being so early there is of course a crowd gathered. A small live audience, all Capitol citizens, all thoroughly checked for security, is shown entering by the cameras, gathering before the empty stage. Peacekeepers can be seen, en mass, around the edges.
Finally Cruentus walks out, barely containing her excitement. She tries to keep on a serious mask, but looks more like a child trying to behave so she isn't take away from the Santa greeting line.
"My father, unfortunately, has business to attend to, and couldn't be here. But as the head of the Tribute program, I am here for you instead. As you all know, on the night of the crowning ceremony, one of our guests tried to assassinate our beloved head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee." She pauses, giving the crowd time to discuss that, waiting patiently for them to settle.
"Ariadne was one of our guests, one of our victors. She was someone we welcomed here, with open arms. And we will not stand for this disrespect. Her act of rebellion, though sloppy and easy to unwind, was unacceptable!"
Another pause, longer, the crowd working themselves up more.
"We will not stand for this. We will not stand for people we welcome into our city, into our homes, to injure our kin. No more!"
With a quick gesture, she summons the two avoxes, Shepard and Holly, both former mentors themselves, to bring Ariadne out to the center of the stage, bound in chains.
For everything that went wrong, Ariadne is absolutely unapologetic. She knows full well that she got sloppy, and that she shouldn't have trusted Eva as far as she could throw her - that's the only explanation, she thinks; she's blissfully oblivious to Eva's public betrayal, but she knows something went wrong somewhere down the line. She's not sorry that she got caught, nor is she sorry that she's in this position now. She caused a stir; she got things going. That's better than the waiting game that everyone else is playing. She can respect it, but it wasn't for her.
Her back still stings from the shrapnel that hit her during the blast: the way that Shepard and Holly hold her makes it impossible to ignore as she stumbles out to the stage, eyes hardened as she looks up to stare at Cruentus over anyone else. She welcomes whatever punishment she's begotten; she's not afraid.
The crowd goes wild for a long time. Booing, loud, raucous - they seem just barely controlled. Hatred comes off in waves towards Ariadne, the first true target of a growing, seething hatred that still hasn't found its purpose yet.
Cruentus lets it go on, draws it out, encourages it. Then, finally, she holds up another arm.
"For such a vile crime, we have cooked up a special little potion for our traitor. Something any of those feeling a touch rebellious might keep in mind."
Glancing back, she gestures for Penny Hsiang to come forward, flashing the other woman the smile she had been struggling to keep in.
Penny steps forward and pulls a syringe out of her wide sleeves like a magician revealing a rabbit from a hat. She holds it up high, bearing a grin that could make someone queasy if it were aimed in their direction. For a brilliant, brief moment, she is the center of attention, and even the crowd hushes slightly.
"This is a poison fit for a traitor," she announces. "It's rapid-onset, degenerative. It strips away the parts of the brain that take the oomph out of bad memories. Then it disables the part of your brain that dampens pain signals. Then it kills you."
She takes a step towards Ariadne. A Peacekeeper presents Ariadne's vein.
"Special order," Penny says as she leans in and whispers in Ariadne's ear, giggling as if she were a teenager girl discussing cute classmates and not a torturer sinking a needle into Ariadne's arm. "Just for you."
Still, the crowd's response to her makes no difference. Cruentus' words don't make any difference, and Penny's barely concealed venom doesn't either. Ariadne is unflappable in the face of her own execution, for she saw that coming; Cobb's words come back to her in that moment - dying was how you got out of a dream, dying was how he and Mal got out of Limbo - and a strange sort of calm comes to her in waves, counteracting the hatred of the crowd and all of those around her.
Ariadne doesn't even turn when Penny whispers in her ear; she's never been much for gossip or chatting idly about cute classmates. She doesn't blink when the needle sinks into her vein, though it sends a shiver down her spine that she can't control. For a moment, she wonders just how good the Capitol is at capital punishment, and how long it's going to take for this to happen. Ariadne might theoretically have all the time in the world, but that doesn't mean she wants to drag it out.
It hits the moment after her mind goes blank again, after her last thought is fully formed; her mind is forced to go blank, simply because of the level of sheer pain that wracks her body. It comes to her in spasms, in seizing that is only contained by the fact that her hands are still bound, and she's still held by the Avoxes she once knew. She doesn't scream. Instead, Ariadne bites the inside of her cheek, the inside of her lip; her teeth go through the flesh - she tastes blood - and it's still not enough to detract from the poison running through her veins. She seizes violently for all to see, every inch of her body trembling and shaking and contorting in a fashion that would make anyone cringe.
Biology had never been her strong suit, and most of Penny's explanation of it went over her head; still, she can tell when the second part of the poison starts to kick in, when the pain almost fades away, leaving her numb and still shaking where she's held, a trickle of her blood spilling down her chin from where she'd bitten her mouth to shreds. And still, she doesn't scream; still, she doesn't tear her eyes away from Cruentus.
Holly and Shepard hold her high and as still as possible as the toxin causes her to twitch, jerk in their grasp. It looks better on TV, of course, but possibly, somewhere in their reprogramming, it is also a way to give Ariadne her last bit of dignity.
When her body finally stops convulsing, when her head drops to her chest and she goes still, the crowd cheers. And Cruentus smiles, knowing her message was sent loud and clear.
Penny steps back to the corpse. A gun materializes from the wide sleeves into her hands, and she places it straight to Ariadne's cold temple and pulls the trigger. She doesn't flinch when there's a bang, nor when the blood and bits of bone and brain and gunpowder spray over Holly's Avox robes, nor when the crowd celebrates even more uproariously.
"Can never be too sure," she says quietly, then to Holly, "go clean yourself up."
It's the last bit of this particular section of footage in the broadcast.
When the viewing is over, a Peacekeeeper appears to sets a box on a table set up just for this. Opening it, within each box are several wrist cuffs, the names of Tributes carved on the inside, one for each named Tribute, a simple motif relating to the District on the outside. A neat hand-written note from Cruentus sits in the white satin in the middle of the box.
It is clear the Peacekeeper is there for anyone who objects to putting their cuff on. After receiving the cuff, the Tributes are permitted to wander, although those with cuffs are given 'special attention' by their Escorts.
no subject
It didn't disturb him that Eponine spoke of her own deaths in that way - he imagined most of the tributes who had been here for long enough had a cavalier attitude toward it. Instead, he said, "Pain doesn't matter. Only honour matters."
no subject
She's seen executions, evidently. But she looked in astonishment at Maximus when he spoke of honour.
"Is there honour in dying? I do not think there is. How can there be? It does not matter anyway, when you are dead."
no subject
"And everyone dies," Maximus pointed out, flatly. "Death is as natural as living. One must live with honour, and one must die with honour, or you leave those you leave behind with nothing." He caught her eye, his face stern. "Not every death has honour, no. But it can. Dying to save the life of your Emperor. Or your family. Dying to ensure peace. Dying to save a city from itself. Then your death means more than what it simply meant to you."
no subject
She shrugged. "I do not think it is an honourable death, Sir. I would not die for my family - they would probably have killed me though, if I were at home." She laughed at that. "I think they are silly deaths. You would mean nothing to the king if you died for him, you would mean nothing to the city. It is foolish to think so, really. People like kings, they do not look at the ordinary people like us."
no subject
But there was a real warning, underneath, a shift of taut muscles under his tanned skin.
"I cannot speak for the future, or for any other man. But I fought at my Emperor's side until the day he died. He was a better man than any I have ever known, in that lifetime or this, and you would do well not to disrespect his memory."
no subject
Eponine looked confused. She notes Maximus tensing beside her, and shifted, just a little, should she need to lean back out of his way.
"I do not care for any emperor or king. They are all the same. They do nothing for the people, only themselves and the few rich, Sir. It was the same with the old king and it is the same in France now. Things cannot change. It is like here - things cannot change for us."
no subject
It wasn't that he didn't believe that governments could be despotic. He had seen it, here and back home. But he had also seen the dream that was Rome - Marcus Aurelius' dream. The fact that John had called him 'the last of the five good emperors' was disheartening, but that did not take away from the man he knew.
"Evil is everywhere. The richest man or the poorest man, it makes no difference. But how many kings or emperors have you known? How many Emperors have you fought beside? Bled beside? How many have murmured philosophy to you in the dark?"
"There are good men, among them. If they are not good men, then you fight. I've seen the world change, in every way save one."
"There are always evil men. And there are always good men. Kings, or no."
no subject
"My king would not let me fight - I am a woman. And I have nothing - he would look at who I am and he would say, 'PAH - to the jail." He would not murmer philosophy. He is stupid. He is blind to me, deaf to me, to all of us. They do not hear children crying in the streets and women begging for a crust so they do not have to lower themselves. They do not hear men begging for work or a coin to buy medicine for their family. He can close his curtains and leave me to be murdered on the streets or sleep in a ditch with the rats, and have them chew my toes for we are hungry, the rats and me. The kings, they are all the same. And they execute the people who stand up to them - like Madame Ariadne there."
She nodded at the TV screen. She glared back at Maximus, resentful. It hurt, to remember Paris, how she had starved. How she and her sister hand wandered barefoot through the snow, forced to beg and steal to live their horrible life - no, existence - another day.
"I would rather have an evil honest man than a man who says he is good, like the kings and who does nothing for anyone but himself."
no subject
He shook his head. It was pointless, arguing with her. She was too young. She'd seen one way the world could be, had likely suffered too much personally, that there was no Dream left. If she had nothing to fight for, so be it. He could not instill honour in others, he could only find it.
And in Eponine - poor, sad, young Eponine. He found none.
He glanced once more at the cuffs. "I judge a man on his actions, not his words." He said with a tone of finality.
no subject
"Yes - evil and honest. It is better to know from the start that you are dealing with a bad man - you can be prepared then, Sir. Like my husband - he is almost my husband - I know he is bad - and I know to run when he is in a temper. I do not visit those days. But the men who pretend to be good, to help, and then they do not. They are dangerous. They give hope and there is none really, so it hurts."
She shrugged. "I have tried not to fight. I thought that was the best to show them - but Monsieur Marius - I would help him now. You see - bad and honest, yes. That is for me as well."
no subject
no subject
Had she realised that she'd slipped into a personal narrative? If she had, she didn't acknowledge it.
"They are very honest -"
She burst out into a peal of laughter then, harsh in her hoarse voice. "Or perhaps they are only honest when they talk to other bad people? I do not know - for they are all honest with me. It is the people who everyone says are good who lie, always to me. Even here. This Monsieur Snow - he says the Games are a good thing, but that is the biggest lie I know, for I can see nothing good in them at all, Sir."
no subject
Until she mentioned Snow's name and his face went hard, lips pierced into a thin line.
"If that is your idea of good, then I hope we are all of us bad men," he replied stiffly. But it was too late - he was suddenly all too aware of where they were, of who could be watching, who could be listening. So he backed up a step and offered a short, tight nod.
"Pray we never meet in the arena," he said, a little louder. Hopefully that would be enough to mask the hint of rebellion in his previous words. He didn't wait for an answer, simply turned and walked away.