Deep in the meadow, under the willow...

[etcircenses]

Who| All those on the liberation mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 12.
Where| District 12.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

It doesn't take long to get to District 12, the closest district to the rebel district. It's one of the smallest districts, and you only know you reach it when rolling hills grow and grow until they become large, fertile green mountains. The environment looks green and lush, beautiful, really--That is, until you reach the part of the District where people actually live. The weather is chillier than the Capitol, though the wind bares the worst of it. Anyone planning on spending any time outside should definitely get a coat.

The town is smaller than any of the others, and more worn down. Everything seems to have a thin layer of cole settled over it, no matter how much cleaning is done. The center of the town isn't too shabby, and there are a few things that stand new and shining--A metal whipping post and stocks. The latter occasionally has an unfortunate person in it, though most people have learned to buckle down and accept the new rules.

In the merchant part of town, there's some signs of wildlife, knobby trees and green enough yards. The merchants used to ply their trades here, though for now, everything's locked down. As you get farther, it gets shabbier, poorer. Into the Seam, where the poorest of the poor live. Here, the houses are barely more than shacks. Trees grow wild, and what animal life exists is quick to run from any humans, no doubt having survived at least one attempt by the people of the Seam to capture them for the supper pot.

One thing in common with all the sections of the District is a feeling of hopelessness. The mood is dour, as heavy and permanent as the cole dust that seeps into everything. The only sign of anything even resembling any rebellion is a few chalk scratchings on the sides of abandoned buildings, a few zodiac symbols--Anyone who knows the trolls can recognize the symbols of Karkat, Terezi, Psiioniic, and even the Initiate. That, and the grand pictures of Sam Wilson and Joan Watson, and the bold words stating NOT ALONE and WE ALL DESERVE BETTER.

The war continues, and in the back of everyone's mind is a familiar phrase; may the odds be ever in your favor.

Comments

[silberfuchs]

It's not the worst he's ever had. In his time, Albert has been cut, stabbed, punched, kicked, hit with bullets, lasers, electricity, flame, ice, avalanches, bombs, and even was thrown bodily at tanks more than once. The life of a cyborg soldier isn't ever easy or boring. He's faced giant robots and giant beasts alike. He even was able to take down a enormous, mutated crocodile with some kind of supersonic power that had shredded Pyunma to ribbons, cybernetics and all. It was a miracle Doctor Gilmore was able to save him, but Albert managed to kill the monster without too much injury to himself. A gash across the face, impact of stone to his back?

This is not the worst he's ever had. Physically.

Mentally, emotionally, the altercation takes its toll already because he's been where Initiate is. He knows the grief that drives you to hurt everyone around you, to make the world that took what little good you'd found in it away pay, and pay in spades. His grief had never manifested so blindly, though. Albert's had always come into sharp focus incredibly quickly, giving him an almost surgical precision in his vengeance. Von Bagoot hadn't lasted more than a few minutes after he'd killed Biina and her sisters. Perry Kelvin had a grand total of a few days after Albert had found Jet bleeding out in their first Arena. The understanding of why Initiate has lost it takes much of a willingness out of him.

He struggles, but not overmuch. He wouldn't be able to break away anyway, and for all he doesn't want to fight Initiate, the blows also daze him enough to effect his reaction time. He's dazed. Or at least, he is for long enough that Jet makes the scene. His husband's voice brings Albert's mind back to razor sharpness, but his body is still too sluggish to react, his cybernetics rebelling against Albert treating them as if they should be his original ones, actually useful and not just for decoration. He's dropped and he can't rise immediately despite his efforts. It takes some time for the blood in his eyes and the pain in his back and sides.

By the time Albert's on his knees, scrambling for his sidearm, Initiate's back is to him and his snarling face is trained on Jet like he's intent on squashing a particularly irritating bug.

Initiate's back is to him.

Albert raises his handgun, ignoring the pounding in his head and every pinpoint of pain that tries to slowly creep towards agony with each movement, and aims at the through-and-through wound on Initiate's shoulder that Jet had caused.

Exhaling, hating himself, he pulls the trigger.

[carnagecarnival]

He hears it before he feels it. A second shot going through an old wound doesn't tend for a clean shot. Shit burns it does, more than it even up and did before, ripping free the already torn flush and making that whole in him just a little bit wider. His body moves with it, momentum making him stumble.

He gasps at that pain renewed, snarls, then turns sharply. So this is how they wanted at to mother fuckin play, was it? This was how such things was getting hashed to be? Fine then.

Teeth bared, he stalks on Albert, quickly going to grab by an ankle. He yanks sharp to throw of any sense of balance that might have been claimed. Then he's all for dragging, a good foot or two. he doesn't stop there. He renews his grip and he lifts ripping the heavy weight what Albert is as much through the air as he can and aiming to launch him at Jet.

He grits his teeth and presses against that aching shoulder, like the pain might cease that way. The only that's being the haps is if he ends these two. Club twirling again in his other hand, he runs at them, picking up speed the more he goes.

Can't outrun a bullet, say true. But he ain't so easy to outrun neither.

[metalicarus]

He has Initiate's attention and that has Jet's so he doesn't notice when Albert moves other than to make sure his husband was okay. The gunshot surprises him just as much as it clearly takes Initiate off guard and he swears under his breath. Why couldn't Albert have just held off until the raging troll was closer to Jet and further away from him?

His point was proven as Initate grabbed Albert's ankle and Jet rushed to reload so he could bury another bullet into the threat on his partner's life. But just as the clip clicked into place, the older cyborg was being launched like a doll towards Jet. He didn't have his jets to help steady him, but Albert wasn't 400 pounds of metal either.

Still, the force of his husband's weight hitting him as Jet tried to catch him was enough to knock him over and take the breath out of his lungs at the same time. But at least Jet had him now.

Little good it did them as he rushed to get back to his feet, gun in hand once more and poised protectively between Initiate and Albert. Blood pounded in his head as he faced what reminded him of a raging bull tearing towards them. His aim held steady between those two red eyes but he winced and it lowered to chest level, aimed for an injury sustained before now. He pulled the trigger again.

[silberfuchs]

Getting tossed is never a pleasant experience, especially not by an extremity. The joint of the cybernetic leg to actual bone and tendon screams in protest as Initiate takes hold of him, chucking him like a rag doll into Jet and sending them both sprawling.

Still mobile, Albert immediately hauls himself off of Jet, working on instinct of this happening before. It has, too, though usually he's on the receiving end of Jet being plucked from the sky and sent sailing into him, but the principle's the same; get up, keep fighting. They're not out of danger yet.

He glances at Jet for half a second to make sure he's still in one piece, but instead finds himself behind his husband, the blond making himself a wall between, ready to be knocked down when Initiate bowls into them both. They have his attention, what they need now is to wear him down, and standing their ground isn't going to do that. They have to split up again, keep Initiate's attention divided between both threats until he's too worn out to follow them both. It's a tactic they'd used before, with more of their cyborg brethren, but it should work here too; at least Initiate can't shoot lightning or accelerate.

"Jet, like 0010!" Pained, running mostly on adrenaline and trying hard to ignore the stress he's putting on an already overworked body, Albert holds his sidearm at the ready and goes darting off in a different direction from where he assumes Jet will go running, waiting until he sees who Initiate will follow before lining up another shot.

[carnagecarnival]

He's got sense victorious to see that when Albert smashes into Jet, it's in interrupting another shot yet to come. He grins to himself, gaining ground on them both, readying his club, rearing that thirst for blood strong and sure.

He'll take off their heads. He'll put them pretty side by motherfucking side, just as he had to make on getting done before, his daywalker copy of his descendant, Sigma's matesprit done too, and Sigma his own motherfucking self up in the middle. How he'd railed against the inevitable. How surely and sharply it had come back around to bite, using the teeth of his own goddamn boy. He could keep these two together forever.

But not if they keep running on apart, no, no, that ain't mother fucking bide. He snarls once, then again as Jet raises that gun. He stars into the end of it daring, betting which will reach the other first.

Would seem the luck's in Jet's favor this time. Another whole is blown through him. His grip slips on his club this time but he ain't dropping. He spots Albert moving and this time, this fuckin time, he ain't falling for it. What happens if he can't follow both? Well he'll just find on for one. He turns his gaze from Albert and continues stalking forward, blood running down in rivulets now.

[metalicarus]

That purple blood pours out from where Jet's already shot Initiate too many times, but the troll isn't stopping and that meant Jet couldn't either. But he didn't take aim again, not until he was tearing off in the opposite direction of his partner, eyes trained on their target as he continued for Jet.

"Come on, jackass!" He doubted he needed to keep Initiate's attention, but he yelled it anyway, his following taunt quieter. "Come and get me." He had little doubt it was still heard.

He didn't have a plan -when did he ever?- but he half hoped Albert did beyond 'get him to chase us.' That didn't seem to always work out for them, even when there'd been nine of them.

[carnagecarnival]

He gives enough pace, enough space and time to let them believe, let them be motherfucking lulled into thinking they know what he's thinking at and where he's being to go. It's whip-fast sudden that he turns from Jet and his tugging taunts, charging fast at Albert then and grasping at that front, shot or no.

With a quick heave, he throws Albert back, sending him on and off to fly in the crumbling ruin of what once may have been a home. If there ain't no crash then he'll be all kinds of disappointed. He needs the ruin to roar for him, just as he used to need his enemies to sing.

Now, he runs back to Jet, giving little time for shock as he swings his weapon, aiming high for the head. His eyes are wide with the need to hurt.

[silberfuchs]

It was a rudimentary plan at best, but Albert had thought they could divide Initiate's attention, keep him reeling from one threat to the other. Instead he finds he'd underestimated the Troll's speed - or overestimated his own - and instead he's sent careening into another building despite his being able to snap off another two shots before he was grabbed.

The building doesn't come down, not entirely, but there's a keening groan and great clouds of dust that move like an angry exhale out of each window, the second floor having collapsed down to the first and taking Albert's body with it.

He's not dead, thank whatever higher power made that possible, but he is immobile at least for the moment, struggling to unbury himself from the debris and deal with exposed wires and servos from his right leg. Jet's on his own for the moment, and the thought makes Albert try and push himself.

[metalicarus]

Jet watched in horror as Initiate grabbed Albert and tossed him into a building. Were they their old selves, Jet would have simply felt bad for the building, but a large chunk of his husband was still human and that sent terrified ice through his veins. It was quickly swept away by a spark of fire that caught quickly.

It took everything in him not to unleash his fury on Initiate, the knowledge he could lose his brother and his partner if he didn't play his cards right tamped down on that vengeant rage and allowed some semblance of reason. They couldn't do anything here, not alone, not without their powers to combat the natural strength of trolls.

Initiate brought his club up to aim for Jet's head, leaving him little time to react. He threw his arm up on instinct and ducked, the club catching his all too human arm and ripping it up, but he didn't feel it, even the glancing blow was strong enough to instantly numb his arm. It was fine, he didn't need his arm to run.

He dashed, fast as he could, for the building without another glance at Initiate and dove behind the rubble while he searched for his husband. Hopefully it would provide enough cover to allow them an escape. And hopefully...Albert was still capable of escaping.

[carnagecarnival]

It's not Jet's head but the vibration of impact is something. The blood so bright he gets up off it is even motherfucking more, like just the sight is enough to quench a thirst not all so different from rainbowdrinkers.

Between the injury and the rage, the Initiate lights in a twisted form of delight. He almost laughs. But then the motherfucker's got at all to be ruining it all, dashing off quick.

He unleashes a near-silent snarl of frustration before going to follow after, determined to cull his prey.

[silberfuchs]

It's not long before Jet gets to him, Albert coughing and trying to push his way out of the dirt and rubble. In this situation he doesn't fuss, doesn't mother hen over Jet's injured arm though he does file that away for something to take care of later. Like his leg, sparking at the knee as it is, the falling bits of ceiling not only having taken out half his pant leg but the metal underneath as well, puncturing the casing and oozing some sort of fluid. He hopes abstractly that it's not flammable, considering the way his knee is giving off sparks.

Thank goodness he can't feel it.

"We need to get away. We can't take him like this." The civilians are all out of the area now anyway, as are the ally soldiers who could have potentially become targets. He hates to leave Kurloz in this state, knows they both hate it, but they'll all hate more if they died to the hands of a friend in the throes of grief.

He finally gets the last large piece of debris off of him and pushes to try and stand, staggering as he can't place any weight on his malfunctioning leg. "Help me, quick."

[metalicarus]

The words are barely out of Albert's mouth when Jet's already got his arm around Albert's waist. "Don't walk on it, use me." He'd had enough injured legs to know the impossibility of using one. It would be simpler if Jet could just carry Albert, but he didn't trust his human muscles to withstand the strain long enough to get them to safety; his husband wasn't 400 pounds anymore, but he was still heavy and they needed to go, Jet could at least support Albert's weight on that side.

As soon as he had a secure hold on his partner, he led them out of the wreckage as quickly as they could, eyes staying focused on out rather than the potential rampage at their backs should they be spotted. He couldn't afford to look back and hope for the best.

Gonna cut in then Initiate can see they're gone and wrap?

[silberfuchs]

With a nod, Albert does just that, leaning on the blond perhaps more heavily than he intends, but still enough that they can get moving. They have to, quickly, or the monster that had once been their friend will find them again, and this time there would be no escape, just smears of red on cracked pavement.

Luckily, they're used to this sort of quick and injured escape and it doesn't take long for the pair to lose themselves in what's left of the District. Later, they'll be able to circle back and find medical attention from their allies, but for now escape is foremost on both of their minds. They need to disappear.

And so they do.

wrap

[carnagecarnival]

Holes and holes and holes run him through. Holes in his body and holes in his pan and heart. Motherfuckers be slipping as like through holes in his motherfucking hands. He charges into that ruinous building and they ain't there. They ain't motherfucking there. He's got nothing nothing nothing. He's got ragged breath all growled punctured.

He tries to scream. It comes out like more strangled breath and his claws rake on stone.

He leaves the building and it crumbles down.