JANET vs Oliver {80th AU fight} Blitz

J4N3T

Deep within the Capitol, a certain programmer had spent her previous weeks in many meetings. There was the businesswoman, who had pitched the idea of a fleet of toy JANETs, sold in the replica shops alongside iconic Games memorabilia like Seth Brogan's wooden leg, or Wendell Gordon's sword.

(No, Desarae, you need to simplify it down; no seven-year-old kid would want a toy with a 60-page instruction manual -)

The other businessman, that wanted to purchase the rights to the technology and put it into a Lorenza Aita doll. And then the Gamemakers -

It's a bit lacking, isn't it, confining such a beautifully made AI to a boombox, don't you think? Why, if we could just take the software, and install it into the doppelganger framework we designed from two quells ago -

This was not who JANET was built to be, of course. Then again, J4N3T wasn't fully JANET, was she? The Gamemakers would never allow a single programmer that much control, after all, not unless she was within their inner circle.

"False."

J4N3T spoke. Compared to the other quells - the Capitol audience had waited with bated breath, wondering of the quell twist that remained a mystery, even after the Gamemakers of next year's Games had been published for all to see. This finale would need to be memorable, before Beatrice Alfray could overshadow what was supposed to be Glamour's magnum opus - or his demise.

And what better way to end a quell than to entertain the possibility of no victor? To remind the audiences, waiting in the districts back home, than even the one-in-twenty-four hope they offered them each year was a generous gift from the Capitol?

What were they supposed to do, let them have too many victors just because some girl on fire threatens to kill herself?

She would not let Oliver Wren - District Eight, age fourteen - go home just yet. J4N3T unfolds herself, metal limbs creaking as the front of the boombox-shaped shell cracks open and she rises, hinges squeaking with fresh grease, until she stands to Oliver's height, spikes emerging from the shell of the boombox she wields in her hands.

"This is how it ends with fifty-eight percent probability, Oliver Wren."

J4N3T attacks Oliver with spiked blunt

lrXqEuJW3gspiked blunt

14152 -- GASH/BRUISED RIGHT FOOT -- 3.0 damage
(Spiked Blunt)

J4N3T

"Hey, you lousy robot!" the boy shouts at her.

"Not a robot," J4N3T chirps - one of her pre-programmed quips, set into a two-digit numbered resource file in her extensive memory. She was supposed to be more than a robot. Robots, after all, were the little whirring machines that swept floors in Capitol homes, or assembled bolts of cloth in District Eight mills.

No, J4N3T was built with the capacity for learning. There were layers of convolutional neural networks woven into her software, miles of circuitry and dozens of disk drives whirring to process each new experience and add them to her database.

And there was still more information to be gathered on the person that was Oliver Wren. The original JANET had only had a few brief moments with him on the second day, and even then she'd been too far away from his side of the action to pick up much.

"JANET, I'm sure you already know what death feels like, right?"

"I am neither human, nor capable of feeling anything. However, I am aware of what death feels like, as my filesystem contains a complete catalogue of all previous tributes' deaths."

Shuffling... (628/1868)

She had clips of Rachel Violette mourning, of Cecilia Brontz engulfed in flames, of Kyle Jones being run down. Perhaps after today, there would be Oliver Wren's death, added to that collection.

[attacks Oliver with boombox (spiked blunt)]

vfGpHEdxRxspiked blunt

[JANET uses Accuracy]

spiked blunt

14188 -- BROKEN RIGHT WRIST -- 6.5 damage
(Spiked Blunt)

J4N3T

"Don't try to tell me you're an angel, either. I don't really think there's a such thing as an angel that tries to kill."

The boy slices into her synthetic skin again. As an anthropomorphized informational delivery vessel, she did in fact contain quite a lot of knowledge about angels and demons, as well as about good and bad places. Unfortunately, however, she is also forbidden from discussing said information with the boy in front of her.

"Fun fact! Angel de Costa made one kill in the current games, that of thirteen-year-old Eve Renner of District Two."

She'd have to settle for a fun fact about an Angel who did kill.

J4N3T quickly inventories herself and the boy in front of her, her internal counter pushing the odds closer to Oliver's side with each blow he struck. She would continue, until her circuits faltered. As she heaves the boombox about her, it turns on, speakers blasting and surrounding the two of them with waves of music that wobbled through the air.

[attacks Oliver with boombox (spiked blunt)]

jR|irSqd6Bspiked blunt

14096 -- MISS -- 0.0 damage
(Spiked Blunt)

J4N3T

"They'll especially hate you, as a creation, JANET."

Glamour Kinkade had been pleased with her, or so Desarae had thought, when they'd seen the opportunity JANET presented. He did ever so enjoy toying with his tributes' emotions, after all, enjoy knowing just what to do to push them to their limits. A master of showmanship - and no torture meant no show.

JANET was not programmed for that, but then again, she was no tribute. Only one more obstacle to be endured by the final person to survive the rest of the arena. It was Oliver Wren's hatred, and pain, and sorrow that the entire Capitol had their eyes on, his face zoomed in on the cameras as they waited to see how he would react.

J4N3T's face, on the other hand, remains in its slightly smiling, default position, staring indifferently at Oliver.

"Your hatred does not affect me in any way."

And with that unnerving calm, lifting the screeching boombox, she strikes.

[attacks Oliver with boombox]

zHd7|HiWI4spiked blunt

14013 -- GASH/BRUISED LEFT COLLAR BONE -- 3.0 damage
(Spiked Blunt)

J4N3T

"Who created you?"

Had she been a human, J4N3T would have responded with some combination of "fuck you", "none of your business", or "wouldn't you like to know". Unlike humans were apt to do, however, she had not been programmed to lie, or to evade from the truth. She was Just Another Noise Entertainment Toy - or had been, at least, until the Gamemakers had modified her so she could be tasked with hunting and (attempting, poorly) to kill.

"My original programmer is Desarae Baud. I was programmed to be a sentient database that can provide answers from a massive datasource. Subsequently, I was upgraded by the 80th Gamemakers to include protocols designed by Warren Whip and Charlie Garnet for use in the 70th Hunger Games."

But she was still not built for killing, not truly. Oliver's sword sliced through her hand far more easily than the tributes ten games ago had sliced through the doppelgangers, exposing circuitry that fizzled as J4N3T lowered her mangled arm. With her remaining hand, she whirled the boombox again at Oliver.

[attacks Oliver with spiked blunt]

4sxmJ_wtFCspiked blunt

14086 -- DEEP GASH ON RIGHT FOREARM -- 8.0 damage
(Spiked Blunt)