Test Drive Meme

[etcircenses]

Welcome new Tributes!

The Capitol has gathered a good crop of you at once, and to help morale, and to ease you into Capitol society they are throwing a banquet, just for those who work with the Games. Stylists, Escorts, mentors, a few of the Capitol elite, and of course, you all, the Tributes.

Instead of waking up in the normal way, new Tributes awake in lush beds, in a very posh ski lodge. Elegant but simple clothes are laid out for them, in a warm grey, and a note to come down as soon as they are ready. And if they linger too long, a peacekeeper appears to escort them down.

Those from the Capitol, are brought in on chartered party buses, one for each District, which are about as posh as a bus can get. It's a roughly 45 minute drive, well out of the Capitol's city limits.

Although the party is "mellow" by Capitol standards, it is still pretty damn extravagant. Alcohol flows freely, and banquet tables are kept fully stocked by silent avoxes. The whole ski lodge has been cleared out, and guest can hit up an ice skating rink, or pick out a swim suit and jumped into the huge, natural hot springs tubs.

As the night drags on, however, all does not go as planned. Half way through the night, there is a tremendous roar, and the hotel is plunged into pitch blackness. There is chaos for roughly 10 minutes, till low power emergency lights flicker on. However the generators don't have the power to keep the heater going.

A first aid station is set up, and the avoxes start pulling in blankets to the main lobby, lighting a fire in the fireplace and doing what they can to keep everyone warm. It is quickly communicated that there was an avalanche, and although the hotel remains in good shape, the power and the road to the Capitol has been cut out.

It's going to be a long night.


OOC INFORMATION

Welcome to the test drive meme for thegames!

We are both a jamjar and a Hunger Games AU character game. You can choose to either have your character ported in from their world or AU them into Panem. Detailed knowledge of the Hunger Games is not required. We accept just about any character and character type that we can work into the world, including AUs, OCs, and up to 3 multiples (however, each versions of a character must be significantly different from the others.)

All the information you need can be found in this post, which can always be found at the top of the mod account. And if you don't find something you need, the FAQ is here, so drop us a line!

Welcome, and may the odds be ever in your favor!

Comments

[formersurgeon]

She realizes the direction they're headed and stops, grabbing his arm.

"Sherlock, no. We're in a ski lodge in the mountains. It's forty-five minutes from civilization by bus, and it's freezing out there. The only thing we're likely to do is freeze to death, and they don't bring people back if they die outside the Arena."

[costing]

He pauses, but sounds nothing short of perturbed when he responds, "Groups that design themselves as all-powerful don't repeat the same mistake. Are we likely to have this chance again?"

[formersurgeon]

"A chance to what? To die in the snow?"

She draws closer so she can lower her voice.

"This is a chance. It's a chance to find other Tributes like us and share information. Maybe it's a chance for us to try to take over the lodge. Overpower the Peacekeepers while they're distracted with what's going on. If we go out there, we will die, and that chance? Will be wasted."

[costing]

Hypothermia isn't the best way to go, it's true. But the alternatives don't sound much better and at least then he would have had tried.

She makes too much sense, sometimes. Her plan is a sound one and he can't find fault with it-- it just doesn't follow his own preferences. It's slow, and too reliant on others. He's just barely come to trust people. Gregson and Bell only barely make the cut, and Watson's own position in his esteem is entirely without precedent. He doesn't know if he could look at a room--an arena?-- of strangers and trust them.

He doesn't want to have to try.

He doesn't speak for a long moment. When he does, his voice is deceptively casual. "We might sabotage the power grid a bit. Give us a bit more time in which to make those plans."

[formersurgeon]

She knows this isn't the way he does things. Knows he doesn't rely on people any more than he has to. He's so like John's Sherlock in that way.

She has a deep fear that this place is going to destroy him, just like it's destroying his counterpart. But she's going to fight like hell to keep that from happening, starting with keeping him from just walking out into the snow to die.

"The fuse boxes are probably in the basement," she answers. "The generators are probably outside somewhere. Considering all the snow, they might be on the roof. There was a loud noise outside before the power went down, so I'm thinking that means the reason for the blackout is that the power lines are down."

[costing]

"So pick our poison, Watson-- roof or basement?"

They could both do a sizable amount of damage in either case. The basement would be harder to navigate in the dark, the roof more perilous in the weather.

[formersurgeon]

"Basement," she answers. "Easier to find access and less of a chance of deadly cold and winds. And the power from the generators would be routed through there. Two birds, one stone."

[costing]

There's something like pride on his face, if she could see it. But as she can't, he merely changes directions and says, "Lead on, then."

[formersurgeon]

She holds onto his arm to guide him as she heads to the west side of the lobby. She can hear people moving around, and she doesn't know if they're Tributes or Peacekeepers, so she steers clear, and talks quietly.

"Everyone uses elevators. Hedonists, like I said. But there's always a stairwell."

And she always notes where it is.

[costing]

His eyes have grown at least somewhat accustomed to the dark, at this point, so while it's still impossible to make out most people and things, he can track shadows well enough to not trip or run into a wall. Still, he sticks close to her, not knowing how he'd find her again if he lost her, at least not without drawing attention to himself.

The stairwell is small and serviceable, and clearly doesn't see much use. In other words, it's perfect.

"I will want to talk about it, you know," he says conversationally as he begins to descend. "What you've been through, here. Just at a more appropriate moment."

[formersurgeon]

She's silent for a moment, the only sound their footsteps echoing off the concrete as they descend. Talking about painful things isn't something she does well. It's hypocritical, considering how she pushed Sherlock to open up to her about his trauma. If she can trust someone, it's him. But telling him about what has happened, how she died...she's kept herself together so far. She fears losing that, even with him.

"Everything that happened in the Arenas was recorded," she says, the tightness in her voice the only thing betraying her conflicted emotions. "You can watch it if you want. Even if you don't want. They're constantly replaying clips from the games...deaths, mostly...and there are screens everywhere."

[costing]

"I will undoubtedly do my research," he says. "But that isn't quite what I meant."

Psychological health is something he's been fascinated by--no, it's something he cares about, now. He'd always understood it, on some academic level, but after his own struggles he realizes how much it actually matters. He has no doubt that Watson's mental fortitude is significant, but she always is the strong one, isn't she? And that strength can't be limitless.

He supposes he could always find a skull or a bust, here, and suggest she talk to that instead.

[formersurgeon]

"I know," she admits quietly. Another pause. "It would be good. To talk about it. And we should, probably before you see what they put out there. They edit the footage to fit their narratives, so...hearing things from me first might be for the best."

Easier to mask how much she really needs to talk with practicalities like that. Turning it into his benefit rather than her own.

[costing]

He supposes he doesn't have to call her on that, for now.

"I would like the least biased view," he agrees. "Strictly for research purposes, of course."

[formersurgeon]

She knows what he's doing, and she's grateful.

They reach the bottom of the stairwell, and one of the doors is already open. They can see flashlight beams bobbing within, hear the sound of voices. Of course there would be people down here figuring out what to do. Doubtless Peacekeepers and Avoxes.

"Should we hide and wait for them to leave?" she whispers.

[costing]

"I imagine once they have, the problem will be solved." Because why would they be down here if not to fix the power? And, damn it, he thought there'd be a neat solution to this place.

There's only one thing for it. "I suppose one of us could be the distraction."

[formersurgeon]

Yes. It makes sense. She considers quickly. They know who she is, and knows that she knows the rules of this place. It would cost her more if she got into an altercation with Peacekeepers. But Sherlock...Sherlock was new. He was an unknown entity. They were less likely to know how to handle him, and more likely to forgive him and not think he was working with the Rebellion.

"You should distract them," she answers quietly. "I'll cut the power."

[costing]

He nods, and then he moves back towards the stairs. "Get closer, you'll know when the time to move is."

Because he's preparing to make a bit of noise, as it were.

[formersurgeon]

She goes to the door, glances around, and then slips inside, pressing herself to the wall beside a storage cabinet. She waits, hardly breathing, listening for any approaching footsteps and for Sherlock's signal.

[costing]

The signal isn't subtle in the slightest. He'd nicked things off the various banquet tables earlier, supposing that they might come in handy. So now, he goes to the top of the stairwell and dumps them all out at once--cutlery and various odd-and-ends, which crash against the ground and continue to make noise as they fall down the stairs.

It isn't a very complicated plan, but then it doesn't need to be. The simplest solutions are best, after all.

It doesn't take long for the Avoxes and Peacekeepers to find them, and when they do he lifts both his hands immediately.

"It's rather dark around here, don't you agree?" he asks. "I've gotten quite lost."

[formersurgeon]

Yes, that totally lacked in subtlety.

Joan waits for the last of them to run by, then slips out and moves down the hall, running one hand along the wall. She gets to the first of the electrical panels, and feels around it. There are a number of switches, but in the dark she can't tell what's what. She can feel the wires, and tries tugging on them, but they're too firmly attached.

She presses her lips in frustration and moves backwards, and her foot hit something that scrapes against the floor. She crouches, feels for it, picks it up.

Wire cutters. Yes.

She quickly goes back to the panel, and clips all the wires in the top row, then the middle, then the bottom, then moves on to the next panel.

[costing]

He trusts her to do what they'd planned, and busies himself when the small crowd in front of him. If the sounds of motion are anything to go by, some of them are already reaching for weapons.

"Well?" he asks flippantly. "Isn't anyone going to give me directions? Or fix the electricity, I should think that'd be a priority, too."

[formersurgeon]

There are five panels in all, and she clips the wires in each. Then she makes her way back to the hiding spot by the supply cabinet. An idea occurs to her, and she takes the wire cutters and throws them as hard as possible down the corridor. It makes quite a racket, hitting pipes and panels and even shattering a light bulb. Then she ducks back again and waits for a response.