Where a dead man called out for his love to flee.

[etcircenses]

Who| All those on the liberation mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 10.
Where| District 10.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

Fields of grass are all that can be seen in any direction for at least an hour while the hovercraft come in. These fields are broken only by the occasional color change (marking different kinds of grass and even the occasional wheat field) and a farmstead every now and again. It’s easy to see that the animals here far outnumber the people as it’s more likely to see a grazing horse or cow or even something stranger like llamas and elephant before one would ever notice a human being. The temperature is mild in this season, not too cool in the shade and not too hot under the sun, although as the hovercraft come in and the people of the main city come into view, quite a few are dressed in long pants and sleeves, their clothing worn and dirty from hours of hard labor. In wide open fields like these there are only a few groves of trees to park a hovercraft out of sight behind. It’s one of these far off groves the craft lands. It would be a shame to have to hoof it all the way into the city.

If you’re from the Capitol, this doesn’t apply, as they can land wherever is most convenient. For those in the rebel forces... well just be glad someone knew what to expect and has procured more than a few horses to carry you into town.

District Ten has always been overlooked by the Capitol. A large district by landmass alone, its people are perceived to be just as domestic as the livestock they tend to, so despite whatever political climate it may hold, rebellion is not seen as a concern here. Consequently, those on the rebellion’s side will find they’re the first ones on the scene.

They’re greeted by friendly, if not guarded, faces. These are people who stick to their own community, their own families, but they’re not an unfriendly group. They know who you are and why you’re here. They’ve said for ages that the Capitol needed to go down, that something ought to be done about Snow and his Games, but no one ever paid them any mind. Probably because all that talk may be there, but it’s only ever been that. No one expects an uprising from the countryfolk.

Being so laid back, there's really not much in the way of graffiti. No one particularly has anything to say that has been said and shrugged off. One might hear laughs and mutters about the compliance video or a morose mention of Bison and the call to fight. There are also others pointing out that this is just the way things work.

Even the peacekeeping forces here are limited and laid back, not nearly as strict as might be found in other districts, but they are still there, so it’s best to keep your heads down as you move through the town.

As for how the Capitol forces are greeted upon their arrival, well, that all depends on how successful those rebels are.

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

Comments

Battlefield

[etcircenses]

The battlefield is the entire district city by the time the fighting starts, but the Capitol is at a slight tactical disadvantage. While the terrain of the battlefield ranges from wide open grass and wheat to the halls and levels of the meat processing factory and transport, the only ‘safe’ place injured can fall back to is Peacekeeper headquarters near the edge of the town, whereas rebels will find plenty of families sympathetic enough to at least house the wounded and tend to their injuries. If the rebels can do their job on the town, this will be a short and uneven fight. If they can’t, it’ll be arduous all around.

Ota

[foundafamily]

For once, Firo's in his element, aside from the whole thing about being forced to fight for a bunch of assholes. That aside, cities are where he does well, and the sight of District 10's layout brings a mixture of reassurance and discomfort. The former because it's the kind of battlefield he's spent his whole life on; the latter because he's not the same desperate, vicious person who wouldn't have allowed himself to feel any qualms about this fight.

He keeps to the alleys and tight quarters, trying to avoid open areas and anything that looks like a family home. There are lines he can't cross.

He doesn't set out looking for fights, though he's always alert for them. If he sees a fellow Capitol soldier, he'll hail them with a wave. "How're you holdin' up?"

Anyone else will receive a guarded look and a conspicuous raising of his knife.

hi

[inrestlessdreams]

James and Firo did not have the best start, and worse yet, Sunderland had been proven right from the last Arena. Now they were on opposite sides of the war and James was looking livelier than he'd ever was. He was fighting for someone, for this damnable nation and it fueled his own bubbling desire for revenge.

But instead of engaging, James tossed Firo a small bag, full of fruits. "Better than you by far," he commented, being a little petty about this.

hi :D

[foundafamily]

To say that Firo wasn't happy to see James would be an understatement. The gift just made him angrier. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Firo didn't need help from anyone. At least, that was what he told himself.

He was wary of bending down to pick up the bag--it could leave his back open, even if only for an instant--so he kicked it right back in James's direction. A little bruising wouldn't hurt any of the food.

"What do you want?"

Was he here to gloat, maybe? Firo hadn't forgotten the words they exchanged during the Arena.

[inrestlessdreams]

"Here I thought I could help you escape this hell," Because James has been on the Capitol side and the word is every bit as appropriate as it was powerful. "But I'm going to guess you have your own agenda."

He's offering Firo the chance to dissent from the Capitol, to make like a bandit. Something told Sunderland that it wasn't happening because why would a man with a fragile ego and a temper that rivaled a volcano accept an offer of assistance.

"I'm not killing you if that's what you're worried about."

Closed to Bucky, Albert, Black Tom, and Clint

[sizeofyourbaggage]

[catch all for death and seize threads, nesting them below!]

For Bucky and Clint

[sizeofyourbaggage]

This is the second time that Sam’s been out on the battlefield since - well, since everything, and this time it’s harder to stay focused on what’s real. The Capitol’s had longer at him, and though they haven’t completely taken over, if Sam’s honest with himself he’s starting to get a little scared about going back. So he tries not to be honest with himself.

It’s better after seeing Bucky, and being out here with Clint and Albert. It gives him something more concrete to hold onto, to keep himself from really fighting for the Capitol like they want him to. Which mostly when that when some chaos breaks out nearby, Sam does his best to ignore it. He doesn’t trust himself to step in, not when he can’t be sure who he might end up fighting.

But that goes out of the window when he sees Albert at the center of it. Or, more specifically, when he sees Albert and Black Tom. There’s a flash of memory of fighting Tom in the arena, of Clint dying in his arms, of Albert dying in his arms, and the two bleed together a little bit.

Enough that without consciously thinking about it, his wings snap open as he turns towards the chaos.

Before the distraction

[silberfuchs]

Sam.

It's routine with them now, Albert starting with Sam's name in a particular way that means 'focus on me if you can' but also 'I'm here for you.' It's just not normally transmitted through to Sam's brain directly, but with powers on Albert thinks its best for Sam to get used to it. Its their best communication tool, and if there's ever a chance to use it if they get separated, Albert wants Sam to at least have a feel for it.

He walks up beside his brother, bits of paper folded into tiny, easy to carry and easy to miss shapes and tucked into the palm of his hand. I want to give you something, just in case.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

He's doing a hell of a lot better this time around than he was the last time the Capitol shoved him onto the battlefield like this, but he still startles when he hears Albert's voice in his head.

For a moment he almost rebels - he doesn't need anyone else in his head - but it's Albert. It's not like Albert hasn't been in his head this whole time, if Sam wants to get metaphorical. In a way, it's almost comforting.

Sam doesn't argue about the 'just in case,' because there's no point pretending like the chances of something happening to them aren't pretty high. Instead, he tilts his head at Albert.

Something aside from a way to communicate long distance that I wish we'd had before?

It's the first time he's expressed anything positive about what'd happened - but the middle of a battlefield isn't the place to look at that.

[silberfuchs]

Yes, aside from that. The mirth in Albert's mental voice is the same as it would be in sound, only it comes across with color, a bright spot in his usually placid, cool tone.

With a quick glance around to make certain he's not seen, Albert slips the folded papers into Sam's palm. One has a bold capital SW on the front while the other is blank around the outside.

Don't open them now. Just keep them safe.

For Albert and Black Tom

[silberfuchs]

It's funny, going into something like this with the knowledge that he'll most likely die and not bring frightened in the slightest. In fact, he can set it up to his advantage once the fear of the unknown is removed. He'd already given Sam the messages he'd intended, and now all he needs to do is create a distraction, some opportune moment for Sam to make a run for it. Preferably something flashy and distracting for more than just those in their general vicinity, but subtle enough that it can't entirely be pinned on him when he's inevitably revived and there's a possibly inquiry. So he needs a dupe, and it doesn't take long to find the perfect person whose buttons he's well accomplished at pushing.

"Cassidy," Albert jogs up beside Tom, fresh from the field with the scent of ranch dirt on his boots. "There's fighting creeping towards our camp. We may be able to put it down if we're quick, otherwise they might get it in their heads to set a fire."

[pimpcanes]

"Aye, and that'd be a pity, wouldn't it?" Tom's mostly stuck to the field, because even without powers he prefers the lush terrain. It's made sneaking up and sniping stragglers that much easier.

No one is under any illusions that there is love to lose between him and Albert, but the powers that be are under the impression that the two of them can cooperate towards a common goal. Tom's fine to let them labor under that delusion, but he doesn't plan on fulfilling it in any way. The first chance he gets to club Albert over the head and leave him for dead, he'll take, consequences be damned.

The only thing stopping him now is that he doesn't trust himself not to be overpowered if he waged some sort of attack, and so he'll play nice for now.

"If we can clear the area and keep them pinned down long enough, they'll have to retreat when the flank falls." He gestures with his hand and they both head towards the border of the camp. Tom keeps his palm on his holster.

[silberfuchs]

He'd more expected at least some level of convincing to be necessary, or at least animosity, but instead there's a quip at his 'former' rebel ties - ties which he's certain Tom at least knows there's nothing former about and just doesn't have proof - and a simple move to achieve their shared goal. Albert can only conclude that Tom is planning his revenge for the way Albert had taken him out the last time they'd been in a battlefield scenario.

Honestly, it suits him fine so long as the man is particularly flashy about it. That's the real trick. The Psiioniic had warned him he was going to die, but the manner in which it happens is something Albert intends to use to greatest advantage. He can't let Tom thwart him in that.

He has no rifle, as he walks beside Tom. Powers are on, and so he's been fully loaded with rounds in his arm and extras in a small bag strapped to his thigh in the same manner as a holster. As such, he carries the air of a man who's fully armed despite all visual being to the contrary.

"That shouldn't be too hard to manage. The ones from Thirteen have had training, but the combatants from the District are still wet behind the ears. Still, we'll need to be careful. Those fighting for their homes are often more savage than the aggressors." Albert keeps an eye around them as they travel, and half of one on Tom, just in case.

Closed to Jeremy Fitzgerald, Albert Heinrich

[didnothing]

Main battlefield; for Jeremy
After the disasters surrounding the fighting in District Nine and the personal shame of propaganda stardom, Luna's almost glad to return to normal work on the battlefield. She still hates being at war at all, but she never had much of a choice in that matter anyway. While there's fighting she's obliged to help, and at least she welcomes the relative anonymity of an environment where nobody cares about whatever was on TV.

She's sticking to the battlefield again this time, covering a rough perimeter around the Peacekeeper headquarters in search of Capitol soldiers who need medical attention. She has a wide distance to cover: staying too close to their base won't help anyone. Too far in is dangerous territory with the likelihood of encountering rebels, though, and in the end that's how she finds Jeremy. It's been a long time since they last met in the Arena, but she can still recognize him. In fact his name is burned into her memory thanks to Sigma, and she can't help but gasp and step back when she sees him. "It's you."

Peacekeepers HQ/Capitol base; for Albert
She's bleeding, and it's a mess. Luna's in no danger of dying at the moment, her metal skeleton and internal hardware very much intact, but if things keep up she's going to lose a lot of the white liquid that passes for her "blood" and her artificial skin is going to have some rather interesting problems.

She's glad because it means she's no good anymore and better to be useless than to try and drag someone back to the Capitol, but it does make the trek back to the Capitol's station very unpleasant. Luna feels the irony of the situation keenly as she approaches the Peacekeepers' headquarters, intending to find the area they're using for a hospital this time and explain her situation. She may not be in danger in dying, but some proper dressings would be useful all the same right now.

[leiche]

Having been on several failed specific missions previously, the battlefield is - ironically - the safer option. As much as Jeremy doesn't want to be hurting anyone anymore, he's a (relatively) able-bodied fighter for the rebellion, and he can't stay hiding behind the lines forever. He's not helping anyone that way. If he's going to work through any of the guilt of what he'd done under the Capitol's control, the best way to do it is to fight back, and show he's not their little puppet anymore, especially after the disaster that happened last time.

It's better not to think about it, and instead focus on now. Despite being out at least half his arrows and his best efforts to aim for not vital areas, it's still hard to get over the motionless bodies on the ground and he eventually has to duck into a nearby shelter to catch his breath and wait for his hands to stop shaking. But that's when a nearby voice catches him off guard, and Jeremy's first instinct is to notch another arrow as quick as he can before a Capitol soldier takes him out first.

"-- Luna?" he hesitates once he recognizes her, and the bowstring is loosened and the arrow aimed towards the ground instead. He does remember her, somehow. They met in the arena, and they agreed to look for each other once they were out, didn't they? "Wh- ... are you okay?"

[didnothing]

"No!" Luna's posture is defensive now, and even when Jeremy lowers his bow she's wide-eyed with fear. She takes another step back. "This...isn't how I wanted to meet." She still remembers their first meeting in the Arena, of course. She'd been concerned for him then, but once they'd parted it had taken this long for them to meet again. Given their current situation on top of what happened in District Nine, she wishes they wouldn't have met again at all. She wants to run away, but her orders won't allow her to. As a servant of the Capitol, it's her duty to try and bring him back - whether or not she actually wants to. In lieu of a pressing reason to leave, leaving Jeremy here to act freely counts as aiding rebels just enough that Luna's behavioral monitors block her ability to run.

Fair warning is permitted, though, and so she tries for that instead. "You're a rebel. I serve the Capitol. We're dangerous to each other. And you..." The memory of Sigma's death the previous month is still clear in her mind, but she wavers in bringing it up. Should that matter, when most rebels don't have much reason to care for Gamemakers? She redirects the issue slightly instead. "You hurt someone very important to me when you were in District Nine. You wouldn't have realized it at the time, but he told me."

[leiche]

It doesn't immediately make sense at first. Luna had seemed like a kind and friendly person when they had first met in the arena, and she had tried to offer advice and help him when he was very clearly not in the right mental state for a sudden battle to the death. But now there was definitely something not right, and though he hadn't known her for very long at all, there was something different about her now. And it all comes to light when she admits her alliegance - and on top of that, what Jeremy himself had done to give her reason to be so defensive and wary around him now. The arrow slips from his fingers at the realization. She's with the Capitol, they're on opposite sides ... while they hadn't known each other for long, she didn't immediately seem like their supporter at the time. Had they done to her what they'd done to him?

"... I'm sorry," he apologizes, hands trembling. The memories of his experiences in District Nine were foggy at best, some of them entirely blank, but there's only so many things that could've happened for her to confront him like that. What else could he do? "I can't remember-- but I didn't ... I didn't mean to."

It's the worst excuse in the book, but it's all he has.

[silberfuchs]

The acrid scent of non organic fluids has Albert checking himself for injuries before he catches sight of Luna and the deplorable state she's in. The magnetorheological fluid mixture must be a similar one to the one that Gilmore utilized in the zero zero build to smell so similar, though the coolant and oil and whatever else used is likely all different.

He watches her walk towards the medical unit that the Capitol forces have set up, the outfit much better stocked and manned than its mirror on the Rebellion side. He knows they can't help her there, nothing more than a patch job unless they have trained engineers among the medical staff, which he doubts. She's just a robot though. However it happened, it doesn't matter. She can just be repaired later so there's really no reason for him to care, much less step in...

Only that look on her face...

"Luna." He calls out before she disappears into the tent. "Let me patch you up. They won't know what to do with you."

[didnothing]

For a second Luna's surprised to see Albert, and she's certainly surprised by the offer. After his quick exit in their last meeting she hadn't really expected him to talk to her for anything less than an urgent matter - though then again, bleeding from multiple places is generally considered some degree of urgent even for a GAULEM.

She nearly declines the offer anyway. She theoretically could go get a crude patch job and maybe make it through all right, and Albert would be spared the trouble and awkwardness. But he has a point: he won't know as much about Luna's exact build as Sigma does, but all the same he's much more qualified to handle her than any other medical staff the Capitol has. And he is offering, even if it's probably just for the sake of practicality.

She turns towards him and nods, although her hands are occupied covering a wound on her side where an arrow's grazed and broken her skin. Similar wounds are scattered at a few different points on her body - neither she nor Jeremy had been very elegant in their scuffle. Luna feels apprehensive about going to Albert for help, but there's a weariness in her expression and her voice that makes her sound more resigned than anything despite her polite response. "Yes, all right. If you're willing to see to me, I would appreciate the help."

for Albert Heinrich

[biiowiired]

Psii ventured out into the fields away from the safe haven of rebel communication tents. He was on scouting duty, looking for hidden dangers. He had a a few tools, a walkie in his belt, and an earpiece, but unlike the other rebel soldiers, Psii didn't have weapons on him. A high-level psionic had no need for any particular weapon. Red and blue sparks danced from his forehead and gently pushed aside the wheat in the direction of the wind. Occasionally his sparks thumped at the ground, looking for mines.

Seeing Albert was like seeing a ghost. This was an all-too-familiar feeling. When his headaches returned at the start of this operation, so did his visions, and the people he knew in them.

"Albert human? Hey, get over here."

He'd thought about keeping his prophecies to himself, but that would be like denying part of who he was. Even if Albert pulled a Signless in the space arena and discounted the whole thing, he still had to tell him. (And if Albert was under the influence of the Capitol and attacked him, he could pick him up with his brain and see how far a cyborg could fly.)

[silberfuchs]

He's in the fields because it's easier to be overlooked there, to keep his head down and at least attempt communication with his mental transmitter. He'd only just gotten out this far, about to try, when he's interrupted by a familiar face. Not so much friendly, but certainly on the side he wishes he were on overtly and not stuck in this web of clandestine plans and doublespeak. He's not good at that. He's never been good at it.

Life is much easier when you can just point and shoot, but it's rarely ever that simple.

"Psionic?" He doesn't elongate the I sound, too tired to worry overmuch about proper speech. He does static his internal transmitter though; the Capitol doesn't need to hear this conversation. "Good to see you alive."

Or, good that Albert's alive to see him. In war, it's the same difference.

[biiowiired]

It was a shame, really. Albert had seemed like a good egg, the sort of stable presence of mind that Psii lacked half the time.

"Yeah, I, um, can't really thay the thame for you. I've got thome bad newth."

No use twiddling his claws about it. Psii, too, didn't much care for secrets and mind games.

"You're going to die. It'll be methy, confuthing, not pretty. Thorry, I don't have much more than that. Thometimeth the vithionth aren't tho clear."

Closed to Clara Murphy

[inrestlessdreams]

It's stupidly dangerous to be out here in the District, with James knowing that if he gets caught or killed, he's back at the Capitol. But there was a plan forming in his head as he made his way around the muddy fields of tall grass. He is going to try his damnedest to see Clara again after weeks, no months of fighting and capture. He left her messages for her to find in the news footage: "I AM STILL HERE." It's the same message he left her during the last Arena, now repurposed for the war. Sometimes he had dead Peacekeepers returned with wild flowers, letters were too expensive in that time...

He heard intel that Clara was being shipped to her representing District to help in the effort. This was make or break...and he left her a trail of breadcrumbs that led to an abandoned farm he could hide out while the fighting took place. If she made it here, they could finally reunite.

[seestheman]

Clara had been certain that the Capitol would send her to Ten when the time came. It was the obvious choice, even if it was for all the wrong reasons, and before they could assign which District she'd be assisting, she put in her request. She had her reasons of course. She owed it to Bison, she owed it to the people who she represented without even knowing, she needed to see that maybe there was a reason for all the shit she'd been through and maybe she'd done something good in her time here.

And then there was that tiny selfish reason: that maybe James would connect the dots and she'd be able to see him again. Even with his train confession, she couldn't squash those feelings down, even though she'd tried for both their sakes.

Finding an excuse to get away from the field hospital she was helping man was the hardest part, it took some well placed lies and mentions of how it was a goodwill mission while she was on the ground here. If nothing else, she could try to lay some seeds of good will towards the Capitol, try to remind District 10 that the Capitol truly did care (a lie, it was all a lie, but it was a lie that fell in perfectly with their goals).

She approached the farm with caution, trying to make sure that 1) she hadn't been followed and 2) this wasn't some sort of trap planted by the Capitol to prove that she was disloyal. She tried not to think about what had happened so that this farm was abandoned in the first place, and proceeded on, eventually peering through the barn door. "Are you still here?"

[inrestlessdreams]

James didn't want to know how this farm became empty and out of the way of the conflict but he had to take the chance. He'd kept his gun lined up to anyone who tried to sneak into his hiding place but that stopped the moment he saw her blonde hair and her cautious gaze.

"Yeah, I'm here..." he spoke up as more life returned to his voice. He carefully made his way out of his enclosure. The only thing he had left from the Capitol had to be his token and the worn out green jacket he had since his trip to Silent Hill. Everything else was the meager scraps of armor the Rebellion had at their disposal. As proof of his own peaceful intentions, he tossed the handgun and the salvaged steel pipe he'd been using for a while now.

"Oh God, you're safe," Sunderland nearly rushed towards her before he remembered that he had confessed his part in his wife's death. As much as he wanted to kiss her, embrace her, he didn't know where he stood with Clara.