It's always the quiet ones

[honeyibrokeharlem]

Who | Bruce Banner and YOU
What | There are biographies of him. They must be destroyed.
Where | The Bookstore.
Where | First day of the arena, after the Cornucopia
Warnings | References to past attempted suicide and violence, probably.

At first, Bruce had just glanced through the books in hopes of finding something out about the Capitol. When he realized they were books about the Tributes, he found his own.

Some weren't very bad. Many of them had information he never wanted anyone else to see. Those had to go.

He piled all the painfully accurate books on him he could find--he would have to sweep through the store again after he had finished with this batch--and started to rip them apart. It wasn't the frenzied, messy tearing that one might expect. It was methodical. He tore out pages at a time, then ripped apart the pages until they were fluttering debris with unfinished sentences and sad little inklings of the truth he was hiding. It was quiet, measured, and his face didn't show hint of all the things he felt.

How dare the Capitol plaster their personal business everywhere like tabloids.

Comments

[assassinat]

Fortunately, Natasha found the bookstore early on and happened to collect every copy that had her name on it. At least she hoped to have done so--there's no telling if they would be mad enough to restock them in the middle of an Arena. Actually no, she's willing to bet they will.

She'll have to swing by the bookstore more often.

Seems she's not the only one who is experiencing trouble when it comes to fictional stories. Maybe he picked up something a little too close to home? Sneaking up behind him, she plucks a book from over his shoulder just to see his reaction.

[honeyibrokeharlem]

"Give it back." He turns in place to face her, still ripping the book in his hand. His eyes are on her, though, and his voice is stern, like a teacher's. Not angry or panicked or desperate, just stern.

And when he's facing her, it's clear that there's something wrong with his hands and arms. They're wrapped in bandages, giving off a mummy vibe, but whatever is wrong with them, it doesn't seem to keep him from tearing books apart.

[iflipmyhair]

After having the Initiate stay in a safe hiding place, Homura went about her business She wasn't quite ready to go back to the Cornucopia - not yet, it was still quite vivid what happened - but she could find supplies to help out. Maybe other weapons, aside from the skate blades.

Or, in the case of the bookstore, kindling. Kindling worked, especially if the lights went out. Always a possibility. Keep warm, and especially, to warm up the Initiate. She'd managed to snatch up a few - and she was absolutely not tempted to read any of them, absolutely not, when she spotted the man ripping up the pages from the book.

Huh. Perhaps it was something embarrassing? A small piece of debris landed in the open palm of her injured, shaking hand. She didn't see who was ripping the books, save out of the corner of her eye, as she spoke.

"You're wasting paper, you know."

[honeyibrokeharlem]

"They don't seem to have any recycling bins."

He didn't seem fazed by her voice, but he was paying attention, his eyes immediately darting towards the sound. His hands and arms were bandaged, so he'd be at a disadvantage if it came to a fight, but he could probably throw the average sized person long enough to run if he had to.

[iflipmyhair]

Homura's own physical condition was hardly pristine. Even with the change of clothing, there was dried blood down her arm. Nor did she seem to particularly care about fighting; she simply stood and flipped her hair with her good hand.

"It makes for good kindling, or sleeping material. But not in tiny pieces."

[honeyibrokeharlem]

"How do you plan on ventilating a fire? Who knows if this place has smoke alarms, or ways for smoke to get outside?"

She seemed to be wounded. That could be an advantage if she became aggressive, but at the moment, she didn't seem interested in a fight.

And... that was a lot of hair. Bruce never understood how people were able to deal with lots of hair.

[smarterthanthem]

"Why are you destroying them?"

Clementine asks, from a small distance away. Enough distance that this stranger decide to turn and grab for her she can easily turn and flee back out of the store with a good lead on him if she has to.

Most people in the arena can be counted on not to harm children, not all of them though. In this situation it counts to play it safe.

[honeyibrokeharlem]

The voice is too high. Too soft. His jaw clenches.

When he glances towards the sound, his suspicions are confirmed. He keeps the rage boiling in his gut from showing on his face. (He could rip apart the whole Capitol in this one moment. Child torturers and murderers. He wouldn't even feel bad.)

"Because they have a lot of personal details in them," he says softly. He's never liked lying to children, so he won't. "Details I would rather keep to myself until I choose to share them."

The remains of pages flutter down at his feet like inked snow.

"How old are you?"

[smarterthanthem]

That's a safe reaction to start with. It's the type of question people immediately ask on seeing her because they're upset at the sight of a child in this situation.

Clementine takes a few steps closer to him, glancing about the books. "They're about you?" she says. Books about a tribute... it must be something the Capitol has put into this arena to mess with them, meaning he's probably not the only one. "I'm eleven."

[honeyibrokeharlem]

"I expect all the tributes have one. I found a few that belonged to people I don't know, but I didn't look for them."

He doesn't have a visible reaction to her age. His voice stays soft and his expression calm. He doesn't want to give her anything else to worry about when she's already in such an awful situation.

"Eleven? So you'd be... fifth or sixth grade?" He glances up at her from his book. She doesn't... feel eleven, if that makes sense. Her demeanor is very calm for such a young girl in such a horrible place. Had she been in previous arenas?

He wouldn't feel guilty for murdering the Gamemakers. That should scare him. It doesn't.

"You can come closer, if you like. I won't hurt you."

[silberfuchs]

"This is ridiculous." It's barely more than an amused mutter from behind the next shelf over, though Albert doesn't quite care of Bruce overhears. He'd come into the store when the other man was perusing the shelves and not in sight, only to find Bruce was there when he started to hear the tell-tale ripping of paper. Already having come in contact with the Capitol's brand of defamation, he leaves Bruce to his business in sympathy.

Of course he's morbidly curious about what they may have written for him and went in search. He wasn't disappointed. What he's uncovered is a travesty of hokey purple prose attempting to overshadow blatant pornographic content concerning himself and his fiance. If it wasn't so ridiculous (he may have been a cyborg, but a vibrate setting was never one of his functions) he might have been offended, but as it stands he can only laugh periodically at the printed trainwreck in his hands. He'll have to show this to Jet later.

He's got to wonder if anyone else appears in such caricature and so he moves a bit further up the aisle, looking for anything of note once he's stowed away a copy of the sleezy paperback. Bruce's name pops out at him when he gets near the end and while the doctor might be ripping apart volumes as Albert peruses, he has to conclude that if Bruce left the book, he must not care about this particular one.

Albert's quiet for a moment as he opens to a random page, and then...

"How many children?!"

[honeyibrokeharlem]

Bruce immediately started laughing. Not chuckling, not snickering, but full-on belly laughs. He hasn't laughed that hard in years.

"You found that version?"

He leaves his tearing for a moment to move through the book shelves and face Albert, still smiling in amusement. He had heard Albert's grousing, but that tone meant he had found a certain book that had left Bruce rolling his eyes and putting it back on the shelf.

"It also says I'm an alien in a human suit."

[silberfuchs]

"Is that better or worse than being characterized as a half robotic sex toy?" He waggles the ludicrous recount of Bruce's history to indicate the content of his own book. "Where do they come up with these things?"

Though, all of the salacious material aside, some fundamentals are true. He was a cyborg, after all. It makes him wonder about Bruce's, but he's not certain he should pry. "Sometimes they do get things alarmingly correct, though..."

[honeyibrokeharlem]

"Better, better, you win on that one." Bruce leans against the edge of a bookshelf. "Are you actually part robot, or is that as true as the alien thing?"

He won't volunteer information. He wouldn't hold questions against anyone, but he wouldn't necessarily answer them, either.

[guardiandevil]

Outwardly, Matt wouldn't seem to have much use for books. After all, he was blind, and without his glasses it was more obviously so. But he'd kept his heightened senses a closely guarded secret, one that he wasn't ready to reveal just yet. His acute hearing had let him overhear whispers from other Tributes, whispers which told him that the bookstore houses a library of biographies on each of the competitors. His first thoughts were not of using the books to his own advantage or of getting to know his enemies. No, no. Matt Murdock was a selfish man. Before anything else, he needed to find his own biography and rip it to shreds. His secrets were his own, damn it. He'd spent half of his adult life fighting to tuck his most personal life away again. He couldn't just be on display like that, not after everything he'd done back home to change things.

And so there he was, a blind man sorting through shelves of books, opening each one and running his fingers over the print to decipher the letters. It was time consuming, it was arduous. And every so often he'd paused to read whatever interesting passage he'd come across. But still, he'd yet to find the book he was looking for.

[honeyibrokeharlem]

Bruce took note of the blind man who walked in. He had frowned into his destruction of books, thinking about what kind of horrible people would put a blind person in a gladiator match. He didn't comment, though, since he doubted it was anything the man hadn't heard before, and just kept tearing.

Up until he realized that the man was looking for something. Probably his own secrets.

"If you tell me your name, I can just read through the spines and find your books," Bruce offered, still ripping as he did so. It might expedite the blind man's process a little bit. "I wouldn't read anything else."

[guardiandevil]

He paused, turning slowly to face the other man, or rather to listen to him more closely. It wasn't his offer that gave Matt pause so much as it was this sense that he knew this man, recognized him, mingled with the familiar disappointment that he wasn't recognized in turn.

"Matt Murdock," he said at last, closing the book in his hand and setting it back on the shelf. He wondered if it would be strange of him to offer that he knew full well that he was talking to Bruce Banner. It'd probably be stranger still if he tried to explain that he was Bruce's attorney. "My secrets have a habit of getting out there. I'd be glad for the help in reeling them back in."

[honeyibrokeharlem]

Bruce had had alternate universes explained to him, but in his world, he hadn't had an attorney in years. He didn't recognize the name at all.

"I'm Bruce." He put aside his books for a moment, running his fingers along the spines still on the shelves, searching for Murdock quietly. "There will probably be more than one. I'm already destroying some books of my own, so if you want any help tearing them all apart..." He would offer the help to anyone who didn't look like they were going to hurt him, but he felt especially inclined to help this man. He couldn't help but wonder if the Capitol had put him into the arena as some kind of joke, a sick gimmick for them to enjoy in the comfort of their living rooms. Hopefully, he could still fight without sight.

[helpmeguideit]

Charles didn't really mean to end up in the bookstore, but somehow - he just made his way there. It was natural for him to find himself in this place. He moved his fingers over the books, eyeing what they had, but then he found ones with his name on them. Once he saw them, he pulled them off the shelf, and held them in his arms. He moved them towards one of the chairs, and dropped them in there.

When he looked around, he saw someone ripping apart books, he moved in that direction, leaving his stack of books yet to be read.

"Did they offend you?" he asked. He hadn't had the chance to read, so he...didn't know quite what they contained.

[honeyibrokeharlem]

"You could say that," he said, surrounded by the fluttering remains of paper. Bruce glanced up from his destruction, looking at Charles carefully so he was ready to react in case he was attacked.

"They're biographies. At least the ones I saw were. They're biographies about all of us."

[helpmeguideit]

"I noticed," Charles hesitated. He glanced towards the books he had snagged earlier. He was careful about the way he held himself. His posture was non-threatening. He'd appear almost relaxed if not for the way he'd periodically glance over his shoulder if there were a sound in the distance.

"I'm curious as to how accurate mine is." Bruce's own reaction could mean either it was totally inaccurate and offensive, or so accurate that it caused upset. He didn't want to ask.

"Sorry to hear yours didn't turn out so well here," Charles offered. "I don't know how seriously anyone will take anything the Capitol puts in here."

[honeyibrokeharlem]

Bruce wasn't fooled. The man was on edge, just like he was. That wasn't bothersome. He was on edge, too. All he wanted was the man to not try killing him.

"They probably won't take it seriously. I'd still prefer it gone."

Another torn page.

"I suggest looking for yours." He didn't specify why. Too accurate? Too inaccurate? Straight up strange?

[bravebargain]

After escaping from the cornucopia, Belle had almost immediately found her way to the bookstore (it figures that it'd be the first place she'd come across.) And since the store seemed to be relatively safe and empty from the possibly dangerous tributes she decided to stay there, still wearing the beautiful, but uncomfortably revealing, outfit that she had been dressed in before being released to the arena.

It didn't take a long from her to realize that all the books were about them, about tributes. And even though she was very curious to find out more about her fellow tributes, it felt horribly wrong to peek into others' private life like that without a permission. Besides, there was something in these books and the idea of Capitol being able find so much about their lives and putting them on such public display, that sent an unsettling feeling down to her gut.

So, instead of reading the books, she just walked through each aisle while keeping her eyes open for titles that might sound familiar to her. During her search she had came across a book that had the name of her new friend, Bruce Banner, on the cover. The green monster on it intrigued her and made her wonder, but she stayed true to her decision and picked up the book without reading it, moving forward. Eventually she found an old fairy tale book "The Tale Old As Time", which had her silhouette dancing with Beast on the cover.

But just when she was about to reach for the book, she heard ripping sounds coming from the direction where she had found the book about Bruce. She quickly picks her book and rushes to see what was happening.

"Bruce!" She calls out as she sees him tearing pages off the books, holding the two books tightly against her chest. "Is everything alright?"

[honeyibrokeharlem]

Bruce recognizes the voice easily enough. He glances at her face, instinctively checking her for weapons even as he continues to rip the books apart. "I'm fine, considering the circumstances."

It's immediately clear that he's not quite fine. His arms are wrapped like a mummy's in bandages.

He doesn't look away from her--his paranoia requires a little more than just a pleasant conversation before he is ready to let his guard down--but he keeps tearing the books instead of tensing up. He doesn't expect her to try hurting him.

"I just don't like my business published for anyone to read."

[bravebargain]

Belle did not believe him a slightest bit, not when he was so obviously stressed. She still remembers how anxious he had been when they had first met, and even though the situation back then was highly uncomfortable it was nothing compared to what they were dealing with right now.

"That's understandable. " She nodded cautiously and knitted her brow in worry, not wanting to aggravate him in any way. While she trusted Bruce and considered him as a friend, she still couldn't help but keep the nature of the game in her mind while approaching him.

But all that was forgotten when she notices his bandaged hands.

"You are hurt!" She immediately drops the books she's holding and hurries next to him.