Something right with the world today

[silberfuchs]

Who| Albert and you!
What| Catchall
Where| All over
When| Late week 1 and into week 2
Warnings| Probably language, potential talk of WWII atrocities. Will add as needed.
Notes| Potentially the last time Albert will be separated from Jet this arena, so if you wanted CR with just him, tag here! Feel free to tag with any sort of prompt, I'm out for negative and positive CR, though Albert will likely err on the side of caution for people he doesn't know and try to help those he does. Individual prompts for things that have been planned ahead for are below in the comments.


Having a defensible home base, plenty of supplies, and Jet by his side first thing basically make this arena not so terrible for one Albert Heinrich. Aside from a blow to his pride in falling all over the ice, it's been a relative walk in the park. Of course, others are probably not having such an easy time, which is why Albert's taken it upon himself to make his way around the arena at large and see who he can help.

It seems someone's taken Steve's message at the Cornucopia a step further.

With paintball gun strapped to his back, a knife in a thigh sheath, and plenty of portable water, Albert's making the rounds from the first week into the second, finding all the passages and nooks he can while still scavenging for useful supplies to donate to other tributes, snacks includes. He can also be found around mealtimes repelling down from the third floor to snatch and grab what he can then darting off to circle back upstairs. It's a pretty efficient operation; he's clearly done similar before.

Comments

Eponine

[silberfuchs]

He's not sure how the girl ended up on the escalator but the fact of the matter is Eponine definitely needs some help. The thing is a veritable meat grinder and the last thing Albert's going to do is leave the little French waif to try and escape it under her own power. Even if she was strong enough, it's better safe than sorry.

It takes him a minute to get the repelling harness on, straps looped around his waist and legs securely, before he latches his clip onto the nylon rope he and Jet have set up and stands on the edge of a third floor balcony. He's got to judge the angle just right, but he's also got to hurry...

Re: Eponine

[gardienne]

Eponine's trapped. As fast as she tries to run down the escalator, she is carried up and up towards the end. With a shriek, she realises how close she's come and re-doubles her efforts to get back down to the safety of the ground. So concerned is she by the escalator and her impending death, she doesn't even notice Albert. Luckily for her though, she's quite fit - she's done a lot of running (away) in her time. But she's been on the escalator for a while now, and her steps are getting slower and slower.

But she doesn't dare yell out. Who would help her?

[silberfuchs]

Apparently, Albert.

He swings down from the third floor, praying silently that the metal clips and nylon rope hold up under the strain. A moment later he scoops Eponine up with his hands under her arms, snatching her from the jaws of death.

They swing freely for a few moments, Albert trying to compensate for the new amount of weight as an ominous creak sounds above them. Hurriedly, Albert tries to adjust their direction back to a second floor balcony.

He gets them within few inches, holding Eponine out as well as he can so she can reach out. "Grab the railing!"

[gardienne]

Eponine barely knows what's happened, except that she is somehow swinging above the metal teeth that had threatened to chop her and it feels as if she has been run over by one of those huge trains that the Capitol have to go to the districts. She twists her neck, trying to see what has happened, and realises that it is Albert, Albert swinging.

"Sir -" She squarks, but already he is throwing her towards the balcony, and she reaches out automatically to grab, surprisingly strong, despite her scrawniness. She scrambles over the railing to the safety of the balcony, before looking back for Albert.

"HERE, SIR, GIVE ME YOUR HAND!" She shouts to him.

Bucky (MCU)

[silberfuchs]

There are some days already that Albert feels more like a security guard than a tribute. They're in a mall, after all, and he's done a stint as a night watchman way back when. Of course, he's not checking storefronts since the grates are all down; he'd learned quickly that it's an easy way to deafen yourself and give your position away. Instead, he's exploring the side ways and offshoots, the darkened hallways that end in "Employees Only" signs hoping to find one that's open.

It's a long shot, but if he lucks out who knows what he could find.

Of course, there's always the chance of running into another tribute in the dark, but that's why he has knife in hand instead of safely in its sheath.

[tookthewheel]

In the darkness of the hallways he relies more on his hearing than his eyesight to warn him of approaching danger.

Bucky crouches low as soon as he hears footsteps approaching his position and presses himself up against the wall to minimise his visibility. He tries to think if one of his allies would be nearby but there has been no communication over the walkie talkie, which he now clicks off to avoid a sudden unexpected communication announcing his presence to the intruder.

His safest assumption is that this is a target coming towards him. The footsteps indicate someone large and heavy, too long to be a child. Male, probably. So Bucky hunkers lower, waiting in the shadows for his prey to come closer, closer...

When Albert is almost upon he lunges upwards, knife aimed for his heart.

[silberfuchs]

There's a sense that he's not alone in the hall. It's something he can't quite pinpoint, an oddness in the echo of his own footsteps, bouncing off at angles that shouldn't be if he were alone. He doesn't hear anyone though, nor see them even with his better than average vision in the dark.

At least, not until someone springs with the flash of a knife. It's all Albert can do to reel backwards several steps, a long gash cut out of his shirt but the actual wound only superficial, a thin cut that merely beads in tiny dots on his chest.

The German takes a defensive stance immediately, his own knife in his left hand and eyes trained on the darkened form with him in the gloom. If they want a kill, they'll be hard pressed to win it.

"Step away and I won't hurt you." It could be one of the new tributes, alone and frightened. Or it could be someone actually playing the Capitol's sick game and he's just given another opportunity to attack by not countering directly, but he can't convince himself he shouldn't try to talk first.

[tookthewheel]

Something about the voice nags at his mind even as he assesses his next move.

Bucky doesn't answer.

Instead he snakes forwards, relying on shadow to mask the full play of his movements. His opponent is not unskilled to avoid him, quick too but unwilling to fight. Hesitance is a weakness.

Either that or it is a ploy to make him vulnerable.

The first thing he does is throw the knife at the figure in front of him, slipping a second from his collection out of the waistband of his pants and lunging after path of the first blade, stabbing lower.

Anna

[silberfuchs]

It's morning and the grates are just opening but Albert's already wandering the second floor. He'd already gone through a lot of the bookstore, but the cinema across the way is still uncharted territory and that has to change. Besides, maybe there's popcorn.

Unfortunately he's to be disappointed, but at least the bathrooms have soap and toilet paper, which is a plus. Early as it is, he barricades the door to the men's room for ten minutes or so to rinse himself in the sink.

Somewhat refreshed, Albert steps back out into the lobby with wet hair to continue his searching, though it seems he's gotten a little cocky and forgets to check if anyone's come in while he was busy with hygiene...

[rediscover]

Now that she's detached herself from Elsa's side and feeling a bit more brave, Anna's taken to exploring the Arena. Coming from a place without anything remotely resembling a mall, the princess is fascinated by just about everything she sees, and the movie theatre is no exception. She's gotten used to the idea of moving pictures during her time in the Capitol, but a whole building just for showing them? Now that's exciting.

She comes across it in the morning, and though she's still armed only with an ice skate blade, she's feeling a bit more confident since she's not expecting anyone to actually be around. Which is why she finds herself humming under her breath as she steps quietly across the carpeted floor, taking in the enticing smell of popcorn and all the movie posters lined around the room.

And then someone steps out of one of the restrooms in front of her, and Anna freezes with a quiet gasp that still manages to sound loud in the stillness of the lobby. She goes immediately into a defensive crouch, holding her skate blade up in front of her and watching for any signs of movement.

[silberfuchs]

He doesn't see her at first, crouched like she is. She's short already and at 5'10" his eye-line is much higher than a little crouched princess with an ice skate. The sound too is lost in his still running a hand through his damp hair, his ears conveniently covered when she gasps. It's the glint of light off the tip of the blade that clues him in, turning his head slowly and resting his hand on the sheath where his knife rests, though he doesn't pull it out yet.

She doesn't really look particularly threatening, to be honest.

"What are you doing?"

[rediscover]

Anna blinks, watching as the man turns to study her. She'd thought she was being perfectly clear, honestly.

"Um. Defending myself?"

To be fair, this guy is a good bit bigger than her, and is certainly far more physically threatening than her. She bites her lip, willing herself not to cower, reasserting her stance stubbornly.

"I'm warning you! I'm--I'm really good with a knife!" It's quite obvious that this is mainly bravado; she may not be terrible with a knife after a good bit of practice, but she's better at being confident and faking it til she makes it.

Week 2

[metalicarus]

They'd split up (on Albert's dumbass suggestion again, hopefully there wouldn't be another stint with a store gate) and Jet had decided to hang around the third floor a bit more to see what he could see. It was a little more dangerous since it seemed people were coming up there a lot, but he stayed out of sight and out of the way to avoid any unwanted attention.

That was how he stumbled across the Marvel store and lost a solid hour in it.

Everything captivated him and he stared at almost every piece of merchandise there was. One caught his attention both aesthetically and practically. A blue woolen coat that seemed to be in the same style as Bucky's hung neatly from a hanger and after a moment of touching and admiring, Jet decided why the hell not and took one of them. He left in good time too, because not even two minutes later, some people who had been camping out there came back. (Luckily, Jet hadn't disturbed their stuff at all.)

He made a quick round through the rest of the floor before propelling down to get some food and making his way back to his and Albert's little encampment. Hopefully his partner would be back soon, in the meantime he sat snugly in his new jacket.

[silberfuchs]

It doesn't take long after Jet's already back for Albert to return as well, though he looks troubled. No worse for the wear, but his expression is off somehow, disconcerted. It could be the book he carries in his hand. A relatively slim volume with a plain black cover, title stamped into it in gold lettering.

The Tragic Life and Times of Albert Heinrich

"Hey. New jacket?" Of course he doesn't know where it's from or who it's supposed to emulate, he's just glad to see his partner and thinks he looks pretty good in that shade of blue.

Albert takes a seat near Jet, setting the book aside. Maybe he doesn't have to talk about this right now. Instead, he plants a chaste kiss on Jet's cheek and sheds his supplies to settle in.

[metalicarus]

Jet smiles at his fiance when the older man returns, glad to see he made it back safely. His eyes catch the title of the book, the gold standing out obviously against the black, but he doesn't immediately say anything.

Instead he returns a small kiss o his own and waits for Albert to get settled. "Yeah, it is. I think it's supposed to be like Bucky's coat, the one he wears in the comics I used to read. It seemed like a useful thing to have, so I grabbed it." Technically, either of them could wear it, it was a very good find! Nevermind his other motivations for grabbing it.

Once his partner had set aside his supplies, Jet settled in a bit against him so their arms were touching and nodded towards the book.

"What's that? Another terrible book from that store?"

He still hadn't gotten over the terrible sex fiction book of the two of them Albert had brought back--really, the whole thing was ridiculous, but why would his hair ever look like that?? He wasn't some chick.

[silberfuchs]

"Oh I see. And that won't be embarrassing if you run into him?" He's just teasing, but it's the sort of distracted teasing Albert engages in when he's trying not to let something bother him.

He takes a minute to unwrap a deli sandwich that they'd pilfered the day before - a reuben, with actual honest to God saurkraut. He'd actually called dips when they'd gone through their haul the afternoon previous. - and chews a bite before answering Jet's question. "Yes, only they got quite a few things correct this time."

Quite a few being far too many for Albert's tastes, and even the things that are played up, made to sound worse than they were, have a very clear basis in actual events. "My childhood, the circumstances surrounding Black Ghost, many of our missions, the GSG, they're all here. Mocawa too. And..."

He sets aside the sandwich in favor of the book, staring at the cover with a mixed expression. "There is other information in here too, about what happened in between. The gaps in our memory."

Perfume kiosk?

[celebrityskinned]

Venus done got her nails did.

She's also in a flattering pair of sweatpants and a jacket to hide all the bruises from being beaten in jail, a big pair of rhinestone-covered sunglasses to cover her face, and some bright blue hair extensions to give her a little pizzazz. If it weren't for the flesh that seems to drip down her cheek and jaw on one side, she might even look as if she's a normal mall-goer who got lost inside the Arena.

The indulgences have helped her a bit, kept her mind off of things. It's paint over a crumbling building, and anyone getting past the sunglasses would be able to tell she's damaged deep inside. She moves with a sort of distraction, and she lingers in front of ads as if trying to imagine herself in them again with her new, scarred face.

Now that Kankri's found, aside from making sure he's kept fed and safe, her only duties in the Arena are more violent, and she's alright with taking her sweet time with it - mostly because she's reluctant to go through with all this killing now that she feels actual remorse for it. Now that it's too complicated to just justify and ignore like she once did.

She often wishes she never started to care about her fellow Tributes. Her life would be a lot easier - part of her wants to say it would be more meaningless, but given that her current list of accomplishments has included Fucking Up and Getting Caught, she's hesitant to say she has anything for her epitaph but "put in a good effort".

She stops at a perfume kiosk and looks over the different bottles, pursing her lips as she considers which one to pick up and use.

Sounds good!

[silberfuchs]

"I wouldn't use that if I were you," Albert voice is relatively soft but it carries across the small perfume section with authority. He's standing at the display at the other end, packing a few perfume bottles carefully into a small box with gloved hands.

He smiles a bit, trying to keep his worry from his face at the state she's in. There's a vibrancy that's left her and while he's got an idea of why, it's a story he's heard all too often this arena and simply makes him want to bring the Capitol down all the more. He's been pussyfooting around long enough, it's time to really get involved.

Well, after the arena anyway. And one more bit of very personal business he needs to take care of. Fuck if he's going to let the Capitol's totalitarian antics postpone his wedding any longer.

But none of that is relevant right this second. Right now, he's more concerned with Venus and keeping her from accidentally melting holes in herself. "It's acid. Only some of them, but it's hard to tell which so better not to use any."

Albert's going to go all Groomzilla on President Snow ;P

[celebrityskinned]

She hears Albert at the other end, and that's enough to stop her pressing the spray-top on the perfume.

She considers, for just a second, smashing the perfume bottle in his face. She knows full-well that in the long run, Albert and so many others will have to die if Kankri's going to survive this. She knows that strategically, she gains nothing in this Arena from extraneous alliances.

But he may have just saved her from a painful death, and there's something profoundly distasteful about even considering killing him as repayment. Maybe Venus from a year ago wouldn't have cared, but this one does. This one finds herself sickened for entertaining the thought.

"Wow. That's just charming." She wrinkles her nose and puts the perfume bottle back. "Thanks. The last thing my face needs right now is an acid facial."

For his part, Albert looks relatively fine, and she can't explain why that lightens her mood a little bit. The problem of playing the Arena is that it makes everyone an enemy; the problem of having been in Panem for well over a year is that it makes everyone a comrade.

Week Two

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi isn't entirely sure how long the arena has been going on for already. Each day seems like one day too many, but they all blur together regardless. She's only going through the motions at this point. She doesn't want to be here, but she can't leave while there's people who need her, like Dave. And just letting herself die scares her, regardless. There's no telling if they intend to bring her back or not.

She's out scavenging for supplies when she runs into Albert on the second floor. The spirited and snarky girl that he knew was gone for the moment, replaced by a branded and bruised child that greets him with fear and uncertainty. The last she heard of this man, he'd taken the butt of a rifle for her. But that was weeks ago now, and for all she knows his opinions might have changed.

[silberfuchs]

"Terezi..." Through all his wandering the mall, he'd been keeping an eye out for her. He'd seen her very briefly at the Cornucopia, but it had been such a short look and he'd been literally whisked away by Jet soon after that he hadn't seen much, only that she was there.

Now he can see what's happened and he wishes he'd found her sooner.

His own remaining injuries are mild in comparison - the black eye is fading and his lip is mostly healed, just a small scab in the center where he'd bitten it when the rifle connected with his skull. Terezi though, she looks terrible. Not because of the brand, though that alone makes him want to tear down the Capitol, but because the light's gone out of her and left the girl who he'd caught trembling on the couch raw and exposed for the world to see.

Instead of rushing to her side as he's wont to do, he holds a hand out to her, crouching so he doesn't seem as imposing. With the heavy backpack and the paintball gun on his back he knows he comes off as frightening, but hopefully making himself smaller - he sheds the backpack too, putting it gently to the ground - will help get across his gentle intent.

"I have food, if you're hungry." She looks it. "I just want to help... Terezi, I'm so sorry."

He'd failed her so utterly in not being able to prevent the peacekeepers. His resolve wavers a little; how could she be expected to still trust him when he'd allowed this to happen?

[pythianjudgment]

She knows what he's doing by kneeling down and removing his pack. He's trying to make himself smaller so as not to spook her. He offers her food to coax her over. The intent is clear: He wants her to come over, to not be afraid. The fact that she knows this limits its effectiveness, but she approaches just the same.

"You shouldn't be," she responds, quieter than her usual abrasiveness. She stops a few feet from him, lingering there. "Sorry, I mean. You didn't do anything." Except nearly get himself arrested. Maybe he should be sorry for that, but she doesn't think that's what he means.

Week 2 - after Lyle's death

[googledox]

He had long since scrubbed off the blood of his teammate Rokk Krin and changed his clothes, yet Brainiac 5 still carried himself the way a man might after he'd been drenched in his friend's blood and that was because it wasn't something that could be undone. The stain was still there, invisible, under his very skin.

Lyle's death simply couldn't be undone either and now that they'd admitted their feelings for one another, he didn't know how to cope. Brainiac 5's expression was almost too implacable when Albert came upon him, scavenging in a store. No one was that calm in the arena. No one was that calm ever. His face was blank, cold, emotionless in a way that most human beings couldn't even manage. It wasn't a mask, it was an unnatural void where something should have been. There were depths to the emptiness that was there.

He was examining the phones in Cell-u-lar zone, wondering if they were exactly as useless as they looked when his control started to crack just a little bit. His left hand twitched uncontrollably and tears started to pour down his face from one eye.

Only one. The other was clear and unconcerned.

Clearly, something very strange was going on in his head, some kind of fit. Standing there, rubbing at his leaking eye, he flexed the fingers of his shaking hand in the air, as if grasping something invisible or trying to work out some kind of cramp and then he turned and smashed his fist into a glass case of phones.

It all happened in the space of a few seconds and only then, did he notice Albert's approach. He stood there looking awkwardly at his bleeding hand and at the broken case. One eye was still crying, the brow around it twisted into a position of sadness, the other eye devoid of tears and empty.

"I seem to have broken that product display," he said nonchalantly.

At the moment, the man was clearly mentally vulnerable and Albert had a choice in how to deal with. He could walk away, he could try to help him, or he could try to kill him.

[silberfuchs]

If anyone knows grief, it's Albert. Sometimes he wonders if he hasn't been intimate with that concept more often than with his fiance, having mourned him at least twice even before being brought to Panem. He's seen the same expression held in Brainiac's empty eye many times, usually in his own mirror. He's seen the other too, pregnant with pain and sorrow, seeing all the ways he could have prevented the way things turned out.

And so, despite not knowing who the young man is beyond his name, not knowing what caused this sudden outburst and outpour of emotion, Albert feels a kinship with him. Moreover, he can't simply walk away now when clearly help is needed.

"It's just a counter." He steps into the shop properly, though not too close right away, almost as if he's approaching a wounded and frightened animal. "Your hand should be seen to, though. I don't have first aid with me but I can get it."

Or he could take him up to their camp on the third floor, where there's food and even some tea Albert's been lucky enough to find. He'd have to make it lukewarm from the tap, but it's something. Still, offering that immediately to someone who doesn't know him is suspicious despite his good intentions. He should at least wait for introductions.

[googledox]

"Ah, I have two. Two first aid kits. I should use one."

His face twitched again and as if responding to the temporary sense of purpose, his one eye stopped crying, taking on the same blank expression as the other.

He sat down on the floor and took one of the first aid kits out of his bookbag with his uninjured hand. His movements were still unsure and jerky as if he had to keep reminding himself what he was doing as he did it.

"I suppose I should ask: are you going to try to kill me? It would rather inconvenient at the moment."

He was fairly certain the answer was no, given what he'd seen of Albert's character, but you never knew how people would act under psychological strain.