If we met at midnight

[etcircenses]

Who| All those on the liberation mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 2.
Where| District 2.
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

The hovercrafts fly in over the tall mountains of the Rockies, dwarfing the towering trees. From the sky, the scene is beautiful, all glittering snow, blue water, and green that never fades. The planes stretch on into the east, seeming never to end. Nestled in the mountains is a city that doesn't appear to have ever seen better days. It's worn and patched, and were the temperature a little warmer, one's first thought might be of the old west. The trains only add to this image, going all over into the various mining mountains.

Propaganda can be seen everywhere here in the city; posters of Snow, of Capitol supporting Tributes, things seeking to inspire District unity. If it seems to rebels like they're the bad guys here, that's because they are. District two doesn't want liberation. A District home to people loyal to the Capitol, to their District and the Peacekeepers, fans of the Games, and full of indoctrination, rebels are not only unwelcome, they're considered threats. Loyalty means everything to them and rebels are disruptions to this loyalty. There will be no help from the people here unless you're a soldier for the Capitol, in which case, housing and bed are offered, as well as munitions. Poster of Albert, Anna, and Felicity have been placed up, saying "The Courage Of Sacrifice!", "The Light Of Victory Shines Ahead!, and "To A Bright And Protected Future!", respectively.

If you serve the rebellion, however, it's off to the mountains with you. It's not exactly safe, but it's the best that can be managed until a takeover is made. The hovercraft lands upon a wider ledge of the snowy mountainside, sitting there rather precariously. There's no cave, and only barely enough room in the hovercraft. Resources are heavily rationed. Camp fires will need to be made outside the plane, and food hunted. Simply pulling in breath in the high altitudes may be difficult. Fight off frostbite may be more so. The moaning winds inspire all kinds of paranoia. Best stick close to one another.

Although everyone is lucky to find the sun shines during the day, allowing for some warmth, as the night falls, the temperature drops. The District shuts down all power, putting it all into heating and leaving the city in total darkness. This provides an advantage of cover for everyone, but if you're not a Districter used to the dark, seeing what you're doing may very well be a problem.

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

Comments

The Battlefield

[etcircenses]

The battlefield is set within the streets of the town and on the snowy planes. However, it's less of a battleground than it is a suicide for rebels. Not only is the District (once a career District) in full support of the Capitol-soldiers, but the vast majority of Peacekeepers come from here, and all of them find District two to be the training base. That in itself demonstrates the need for the rebellion to lay claim to this District, but it's no way going to be easy.

The rebellion will be fighting exclusively under the cover of night. The people of the District are reliant on their generators and Peacekeepers are willing to patrol all evening to make sure no one interferes with them. Taking out even one of them out will require stealth. Capitol-soldiers will of course have to stop the rebels.

They will have to watch along the trees, within the planes, and between each and every dwelling from the city hall to the pub. The District is depending on them.

There is a building functioning as a hospital in District two. Working with both miners, mason workers, and peacekeepers, the place is well stocked and fit to care for plenty. The rebellion's best hope is to tend on the spot and then get their injured back to the hovercraft as fast as they can, which won't be easy when the hovercraft can only touch down at night for brief times so as to not be caught.

Signless | OTA | cw: animal death and description of butchering

[69problems]

A. [At Camp]

It's almost homey, hiding out in the wilderness in a little group and having to catch his own food if he wants to eat. Signless is glad that while he did eventually grow used to the Capitol's rich food and regular meals, since the war has started he's had time to get used eating sparingly again. He's even more glad that for once his skills actually come in useful, because while he's not always the best on the battlefield he is one hell of a survivalist.

They fight at night, but during the day he hunts. It's slim pickings out here, mainly predatory animals he doesn't want to tangle with and scrawny critters he has to catch a couple of if he wants to bring back any real meat. Still. Even a little can go a long way. He sits by the fire, knife in hand, preparing the two squirrels he caught earlier. The hides (including the heads) have already been removed and are on a clean patch of ground next to him. Anyone want to help a troll make dinner and maybe get in on some sad, gamey squirrel meat?

B. [The Battlefield]

Fighting conducted mainly at night is where Signless excels. Unlike other trolls he has no special powers, but he does at least have his superior vision. While the humans of the Capitol have to use special goggles to see at night, he can see perfectly clear and with an increased range. You know what's great? Peripheral vision.

That peripheral vision is why he notices movement to his left and turns, trying to use his naturally dark skin and hair to blend into the shadows. Despite the snow on the ground he's opted to stay closer to the tree line than venture into the city. He feels more at home out here than he would among the buildings, and any advantage is one he'll take when so much is stacked against him and the other rebels.

If he's lucky he won't be noticed, but just in case, his hand tightens around the handle of his knife. If he's really lucky he'll be able to bring that handle down on the back of this soldier's head and knock them out, avoiding a confrontation altogether. That's certainly what he's going for. If anything gives him away it's the hard glint in his luminous red and yellow eyes, or perhaps the crunch of the snow beneath his feet.

B

[justoutrunyou]

As a tribute, Sandy was known for a few things.

Her speed was first and foremost, either running to or away from danger, followed shortly by her ability to take a beating. But with her head cluttered with concerns perception had never been her strong suit.

As a brainwashed soldier of the Capitol however, all those concerns and worries were buried under conditioning leaving only the skills and abilities she had spent years honing in the gym alongside her fellow tributes. There were no distractions save for the occasional pathetic attempts by her subconscious to fight back.

And so the crunch of snow had her tense up, twisting at the waist with her gun and taking aim. As luck would have it though seeing a familiar face touched something inside her and though her eyes registered no emotion she did not fire.

Not yet anyway, the weapon was cocked.

[69problems]

He'd hoped he wouldn't run into anyone he really wouldn't want to risk hurting, and yet here she is. He supposes that's really all he ought to have expected.

She has that look about her, the sort of steely robotic feel that enough Capitol conditioning can give. He knows that look because he's worn it himself, shaken it off twice now with Thirteen's help, and he knows how awful it feels deep down in the part of yourself that's still capable of thought. He ought to knock her out. It would be a kindness. But maybe... maybe he can reach her. And if he can, he can get her back to Thirteen and undo some of the damage.

"Sandy?"

His voice is a low hiss. He still doesn't lower the knife. He's not that stupid.

[justoutrunyou]

She didn't blink as he said his name. She barely breathed.

Instead she tilted the gun down slightly as if to lower it, and squeezed the trigger. It was not mercy, more that shooting lower gave her a larger target then aiming for his face.

"Surrender." She warned while the sound of her weapon still rang across the snow. "I can make this quick."

No emotion behind her words, only the sort of pure conviction that came when the only thing you could literally think about was service to a higher power.

In this case, the same evil bastards who had been ruining her life for almost four years.

B

[lionhearted_victor]

The war has finally reached the mountains and Leonidas was ready to lay his life here. This is where he was born, where his family resided, and where his sense of worth resided. The war has finally come home and District 2 needed a stand. But Cora was not the same man as the one who left for the Capitol now a year ago. The Capitol propaganda had fallen, crumbling like the cheap plaster barely holding some salvaged structures. What was left was an angry rebel in all but name. The Cora family were disgusted by the display of immortality on their own terms, they wanted Snow's multiple heads on a platter. They wanted blood for blood.

So when Leo catches a glimpse of Signless' eyes, he knows he has to put up the act of a soldier. A friend on the other side, how typical of his luck.

"Well, at least I get to see if you're that good a war survivor," he spat out, drawing his spear. Ready for a reunion?

[69problems]

No, but it looks like the reunion's happening anyway. Signless really ought to have expected he'd see Leo here in Two, with how Leo was always so fiercely loyal to his own. He wastes only a moment pondering that before switching gears to worrying about that spear. Leo's bigger than him already and that spear gives him quite a bit more range, but Signless won't use the gun strapped to his hip except perhaps as a bludgeon. It's too hard to make a gunshot survivable.

"I'll be sure to put my best foot forward," he responds, flipping the knife around in his hand. He'll be wanting the blade for this, not the hilt. It has to look convincing. His eyes, meanwhile, take in Leo's appearance. It could look like he's sizing him up, but what he's really doing is looking for injuries, for signs he hasn't been eating or sleeping well, for anything that can tell him how his friend has been faring since they were last together.

[lionhearted_victor]

"Not exactly the date in the mountains I promised you," Leo knew these mountains as intimately as his family home, every rock and every ledge etched into his history. He's fed well, and he's known in the District to have supplies. But he also knows that the Capitol is keeping an eye out on other assets, far more important than a crippled trainer turned soldier.

It's enough of a window for Cora to put his spear on the ground, "We haven't danced since that ball, but not quite the mood I was hoping for." He's not here to fight, not even for this farce of a war. "Are you all right?" Aw Leo does care.

The Last Stop

[etcircenses]

It snows gently tonight, falling from thin clouds in the sky that break to show a black night marked with stars. It's a beautiful night, even with the biting cold.

Most of the trains run here, even in the night, as many workers don't get out of the mines to see the sun set. Although the Weez, the train going into the Nut (one the bigger hollowed out mountains), seems like a good target, the rebellion has opted to take out a different one.

It was a tough call, but the rebellion has determined that the best way to gain control of the District is to gain control of their main power generator and supply train. This train is heavily guarded not just by Peacekeepers, but by some of the Capitol-soldiers.

Although sure to be difficult, on surface level, the task seems simple; defeat everyone in the train, get to the power generator and supply delivery station, then send the train back and blow it all to hell.

With the energy reserve generator under the Rebellion's control, they can cut the power at will, and with luck, force the hand of the District into surrender, thus securing victory.

It will be down to the Capitol-soldiers to stop this from happening and keep the District's energy in the District's hands.

Re: The Last Stop

[theflyingone]

OTA

In his uniform, Altaïr was nearly indistinguishable from the other Capitol solders. That was how it had always been, every time they sent him into battle. After they realized they couldn't trick him into being their assassin and spy—his attempt on the Head Peacekeeper's life was a clear betrayal—he was tortured and placed on the front lines, in the most danger.

He'd been good. He no longer acted out against his guards. That was bled out of him now. He had retreated inside himself and was content to lie dormant. He would not make a move unless he was sure he wouldn't be captured and punished again. Getting his face branded with a hot iron had been enough. So far, he had not directly attacked anyone on this train. Back home, he had learned how to avoid fights as well as start them, but now he was trapped in the confines of a moving train...

Sandy

Sweat threw the brand on his face into relief. He had worked hard to slip ahead of the other soldiers and not look suspicious. Everything here was unplanned; he only had his adaptation to go on. He didn't even know what the rebels were up to or if they would shoot him on sight, and yet he wanted to help them. As he was locking the train car's door to block more Capitol soldiers, he heard a sound. He turned, knife ready, hoping against hope that it was an ally he knew.

It wasn't.

[justoutrunyou]

Being one of the smallest soldiers in the Capitol's control, Sandy was aware how much she did not appear to be a threat.

Unfortunately, in her current state as a brainwashed killing machine, she lacked the creativity and self awareness to be able to use that to her advantage more then hoping her enemy underestimated her. She could not lie, could not manipulate.

Instead she raised up a gun training it on Altair, studying him carefully to see how he reacted. If she accidentally shot an ally then clearly she was defective and would require more "Education" so she couldn't just kill him right away.

"Where are you going?" She questioned in a lifeless and empty sort of tone. Like the words were simply words without any sort of emotion or passion behind them.

[theflyingone]

If anyone was able to monitor them, they would see two Capitol soldiers having a misunderstanding, one suspiciously fiddling with a door and the other very quick to draw her gun. By now, Altaïr was more than familiar with the severity of wounds caused by gunfire. The tone of Sandy's voice—or lack thereof—set off all sorts of warning bells in his mind. He had seen this sort of lifeless face on Naplouse's slaves.

She hadn't shot him yet, which meant that as long as he acted like a good Capitol soldier, he would live. But he still had to get past her.

"Trying to prevent more lives being lost," he evaded the question, albeit truthfully. He strode towards the side of the car. It had an open window.

[justoutrunyou]

Well she could hardly argue with that goal. After all that was something she had always encouraged before her brainwashing let alone now. But she followed him lowering her weapon. It was not however holstered.

"Explain." She pressed simply. "Has something gone wrong?"

Bringing It All Down

[etcircenses]

It doesn't take them long to figure out. With the hovercraft going back and forth, District two figures out the location of the rebel camp, their hiding place. They know those mountains. They know them far better than these people of the rebellion do.

They also know that, by getting themselves out of sight of the District, the rebellion has put themselves in a dangerous position. There's no threat of avalanche on the city's side of the Mountains, but that's not the case for the rebels. One wrong move and they could swept entirely away within minutes.

Munitions experts can set the bomb to go off at the top. It will be the job of Capitol-soldiers to keep the rebellion distracted. After that, they will have seconds to get out of their, grab their own and grab any hostages, get into the Capitol's hovercraft, and get out.

The rebellion's only chance is to overpower that of the Capitol-soldiers and take out the munitions expert before the bomb can be set.

Open to Capitol or Rebellion forces

[metalicarus]

Jet was dressed in only the thin Capitol-issued uniform. If he felt the cold, he didn't show it. His cybernetics kept him from feeling the cold in the tips of his fingers and the warmth of his torso kept the rest of him functioning, allowing him to focus on other things. Like the tight-rope walk he had to perform here.

Bombs, bombs that were meant to blow and send tons of snow crashing down on people he considered his friends. He couldn't let it happen, but he couldn't just take out the munitions officer he was sent to protect either.

He had to find a way to sabotage these bombs without getting caught while also keeping an eye out for Rebel soldiers who found their way up to them to stop them themselves. He'd have to pretend to fight them convincingly before throwing the fight too. If he slipped up at any point, his loyalties might get called into question and reign down judgement on himself or Albert.

At this point, he almost didn't care. It certainly wasn't enough anymore to stop him from trying.

As the munitions officer laid down the bombs, Jet followed behind, making a show of checking how secure they were before tugging just the right wire to render it ineffective or, at least (hopefully) less effective based on what he could see with his enhanced and low-level x-ray vision; he couldn't see like Frannie could (and boy could he use her ability to hack anything with a touch right now) but he had something similar and less powerful, the perks of being a recon cyborg.

It was better than nothing. It would have to be enough.

closed to Firo

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland sits, watching the bustle that comes before a battle - any battle, no matter where you go - and thinking. Feeling the wrong gun sitting at his hip and adjusting the straps of its matching gunbelt, absently. He knows the plan, aye, no one'd been secretive about that. It wouldn't have done any good even if they'd tried. There are rebels at the base of that mountain, and he thinks about that. Being trapped in the Tribute Tower like a dancing bear, trapped in the arenas, trapped in their gaol, their Detainment Center, Roland thinks about that, too.

It could be anyone down there - Signless, Alain, the Psiionic. None of them, or all. Maybe it isn't too curious that that's what drives him to it finally, all those thoughts, rather than plain duty. The Capitol is rotten, corrupted, but so are all civilizations who live long enough to see themselves become it. Gilead never had, even though there'd been many who'd said so. Gilead's rot was hastened, pushed along, but Roland recognizes what is happening to Panem as natural, nonetheless. Their world is falling into corruption and darkness, and what business is it of his? It has never been his business, and certainly not his duty, to either help or hinder.

He doesn't think too much on it beyond that. The truest decisions never have been made in a man's mind, anyway. He straightens. There's a crowd gathering, awaiting transport to the place where they'll distract the rebellion and keep them in place, and he moves through them with only half a mind to whether he bumps into anyone getting past. Roland was meant to be waiting with this crowd, but that is not where he is going to stay.

also closed to firo. cw hallucinationy funtimes

[ka_sera_sera]

There may be guards with him, and there may not. Roland does not think on that. It does not occur to him that anyone else is there at all. 'There', too, that's a trick, or maybe it isn't. Something's niggling at him, telling him these ought to be cool, clean white halls, that he shouldn't feel hot, shouldn't smell the dry air of the desert, but why shouldn't he? Of course he does. He always does.

"And time," he might mutter,

"And time," or maybe he shouts it

"And time," or mayhap something in between, he can not hear his own voice, wonders where it's gone and forgets that he wondered, of course it's gone. Where else would it go?

"Have pity," he says, because it's what he always says, "have mercy," he says, because there is none, "or was there a time? Was there?" and he sags and stumbles with no idea he's being led toward his cell, and with no idea of the people who see along the way. He isn't here. There are swollen marks on one of his hands, stings, and something's telling Roland these ought to be cool, clean white halls, that he shouldn't feel hot, shouldn't smell the dry air of the desert, but why shouldn't he? Of course he does.

[foundafamily]

Roland's gone. Firo shouldn't be surprised considering what the man did. What would surprise him would be if he saw his friend any time soon.

From his own experience sabatoging their gracious hosts, Firo knows there's a chance Roland won't be killed--he and Eowyn were only tortured. But maybe the Capitol's stricter now that they're reeling from losses. Maybe Roland's already gotten two right in the back of his head.

Firo spends most of the time after the battle trying not to think of what could be happening to his friend right now.

So when he's walking the halls in their free time, he doesn't expect to see him right there, almost within reach.

Firo stops and blinks a few times to make sure it's real. He clears his throat and calls out to the guards, "Hey--I can take him from here."

People back home have always hated the way he speaks to others as equals, thinking of him as nothing more than a presumptuous brat. Guards and cops especially. And he knows the rules for talking to guards--namely to not--but he's too worried here to bother with them. Roland. He needs to get to him and talk to him. It looks too much like before, and he needs to make it stop.

[ka_sera_sera]

These guards, regardless of Firo's urge toward caution, always have been - well, not kind. Roland, when he was in the condition to think on such things, thought it might be their Capitol upbringing showing through. A guard in any other land in any other world might do any number of things to his prisoners, enjoying his power over them. But these, they watched the arenas with the rest of the people of this land. They watched the arenas and the tributes and there is no respect there, not a bit of it, but perhaps are a few crumbs of something, the smallest leftovers of hero worship. Not enough to keep them from doing great evils, because they are of Panem, after all. Evil, to the men and women of Panem, is just another word, and one which does not apply to them, and never would.

Signless always had loved these people, tried to sympathize with them. Roland has never tried to understand why. It's just Signless' way, and not one Roland has to agree with, himself. He doesn't.

Signless. "Loves, and lost loves," he says in that voice he can't hear, a voice rough from screaming. "Have I called their names yet? Of course I have. I hear it now. Have I added yours, Firo, to my list of loved dead? Perhaps beside Eddie's. You are so like him. He might appreciate the company."

Roland's guards send looks at each other overtop Roland's bowed head. While he rambles on beneath them, their expressions share one, identical thought: done with this shit.

"You'll have to drag him," one of them says. "You wouldn't think such a skinny fucker would be so damn heavy."

[foundafamily]

Firo, too, is thinking of his friends. He's first glad that Phil never seems to go into the field. The man doesn't belong on the front lines anyway--he's too prone to guilt and too thoughtful. Hopefully he's still far away, back in District 13.

He wouldn't call it lucky, exactly, but maybe it's good that the rest of his friends are currently on the Capitol side.

And speaking of friends. Roland is easy to see in a crowd--he cuts a rather distinctive figure--even from Firo's vantage point. When he sees him moving, Firo immediately starts elbowing through the crowd to catch up.

He reaches for Roland's arm when he's close enough. "Hey, you tryin' to jump the line? Wouldn't've thought you'd be eager for this."

[ka_sera_sera]

Noticing everything around him is more than a matter of habit for Roland. It is a matter of survival. He twitches when Firo touches him, a whole body twitch, and for a second notices only his own surprise. Then he notices his hand's wrapped around the grip of that gun at his hip, notices it's Firo next to him. He processes the question and notices, vaguely, the way his mind is a little slow to switch tracks from action to speech, one friend speaking to another.

"Different line I'm headed to," he manages, slipping his hand off the gun and looking over the crowd. "Stay close to the peacekeepers, no matter what. You know that, don't you?" That's what he'd told Signless, before he'd been taken away that first time. Thirteen took him. He'd told him to stay close to the peacekeepers. Like a nervous father sending his child away for the first time. Useless. But there's a reason, this time. "They'll be the first to evacuate, once it's time. Once the avalanche starts. You'll do that, won't you?"

Roland's gaze swings from the crowd to Firo, one of his hands grips at Firo's arm and he stares at him. Roland won't accept a no.

[foundafamily]

Firo doesn’t know that, actually, and has always tried to keep his distance of the Peacekeepers. He doesn’t want them right at his back if he happens to find himself faltering over offing a rebel again. The look of confusion on his face fades with the explanation, though he's not exactly pleased with it.

Firo starts when Roland grabs his arm--that sudden intensity is a bit disconcerting when it's aimed at you. But a heartbeat later he squares his shoulders and straightens up, getting as in Roland's face as he can. This is no time to be on the defensive, though he doesn't intend the gesture to be hostile--just firm. “That depends. Where’re you gonna be?”

Something fishy is up. Firo doesn’t care that Roland may be stepping out of line—at least, not in the way the Peacekeepers or Capitol citizens would. But he does care about what ultimately happens to his friend, and he has a feeling that any 'different line' could be dangerous.

(frozen comment) Results

[etcircenses]

(frozen comment) The Last Stop

[etcircenses]

Those of District three have done this, what? Three times now? Practice makes perfect and this is a most perfect piece of cake. Resistance is taken out, the survivors made to hostages.

There's just one catch. They still have to take out the train, and there has to be someone on it to do it. As most of you stay back with the generator, you might see the train, on which one last fight takes place.

There's an explosion of sound and fire, the track warping and breaking apart. The train screams as it descends into the side of the snow mountains below, until it too goes up in a blaze.

It's a bittersweet victory at best.

(frozen comment) Bringing It Down

[etcircenses]

It's an incredibly close call, but the bomb is stopped from going off. The munition's expert may no longer be leaving. The Capitol soldiers may not realise right away that nothing's happened. The rebellion has won this round, and for it, they've gained a new bomb to add to their collection.

Capitol soldiers have the chance to run for their briefly appearing hovercraft, but some are sure to be captured and others, cut down.