gunpowder. babe+terra vt.

gunpowder. babe+terra vt. Aug 29, 2021 21:01:25 GMT -5

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Post by ✨ zozo. on Aug 29, 2021 21:01:25 GMT -5

gunpowder .

You have heard the rumours that District Nine never stopped fighting for the cause, half of the main town still a warzone. Gunshots you won't be able to hear before they hit you in the chest, leg, spine, the deployment extra Peacekeepers confirms the whispers are true.

You're not scared. District's Five through Seven have been easy. There are two sets of challenges at the top and tail of your Victory Tour, one already conquered, a very different kind of task for the Lower Districts. But Nine is a happy medium. A victor in Babe Adroxis, spear through September's eye played on repeat at Montague House. A dead girl in Teddy King, you could've butchered her even more but gave her mercy - a true sign of respect, equals in all ways but one.

When you step off the platform you hold your breath, escorted by soldiers in white. Like you couldn't fight off the crowd that had gathered on the steps of the station, frowns and furious faces spitting words you cannot hear. Someone holds up a sign from the back of the crowd and when your eyes catch the painted words your heart stops for half a second.

TEACH US INSTEAD!

They're not supposed to know.

Right?

A Keeper nudges you along, if they said anything you can't tell through the reflection in their helmet visors. Nobody had asked about the trainings in One, Two and Four in the other districts. Or maybe they had, and you simply could not hear.

Your fists curl into balls, nails digging into your palms, if Nine know then surely Ten will too.

You know what that means. You've known it all along. Treason, in the highest regard - Nine, Eleven, Twelve, then you'll meet your maker in Ten. You swallow hard, feel something catch in your throat, splutter into the crook of your elbow and your nose finally registers the undeniable scent of this place: gunpowder.

Into a van, into a car, crumbling buildings either not yet repaired from the war or freshly destroyed in a last-chance defiance of totalitarianism. You stop somewhere outside of the main town center, raise your eyebrows into a silent question mark. Change of plans, someone scrawls on a note. We'll record your speech instead, play it on the stage once you're gone. For your safety.

For your safety, you want to laugh but instead just nod. Why do you obey without question? Why do you let the world decide what happens to you? The war is long over, at least it was in Ten. You can stop letting fate choose whether you live or die, but stockholm syndrome has kept you alive this far. It's innate, second-nature. Muscle memory. Take your orders. Kill without questions. Stay alive.

Nine makes you question where your loyalties lie, why you simply do instead of dictate. Maybe it's the little rebel in you, child of The Circle. Or maybe it's just the taste of treason in the air.

You park the answer for later, ushered out of a car to a building labelled ADROXIS AMMUNITIONS. They hand you a card but you pocket it into the inside of your jacket, you know why you're here:

Babe Adroxis, gunpowder boy.

'Hello', you wave, voice feeling croaky in your throat so you clear it and stick out your hand in greeting. 'I'm Terra.'

He's taller than he seemed on television.

table by elegant.

gunpowder. babe+terra vt. Sept 7, 2021 1:54:59 GMT -5

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Post by gamemaker kelsier on Sept 7, 2021 1:54:59 GMT -5

b a b e .

Some days he wakes up with September's name still in his mouth, just resting there heavy.

His tongue a rock in his mouth, he runs tap water over dry lips and waits for it to leave him, but the name remains, stuck to the back of his throat.

"I know," he mumbles, "Yeah, yeah, yeah kid, I know."

Days like today, when it's time to meet another of his slow growing kind, perennials pushing up stubbornly through layers and layers of ash, Babe is haunted.

He forgot to fall in love again this year, it flew by so fast. Forgot to lay beneath the willow trees that grow all over the fields outside of town. He'd dusted off Xim's grave a few times though and pruned back the wisteria tree he'd planted behind it. There was also that one night Burma and him got too drunk to walk up stairs and so they set a blanket on the drawing room floor and pretended to stargaze.

That had been good, that had been living, right?

A week after that'd been the crawl, the start of three weeks spent crouching in back alleys, marking the street corners with the Adroxis symbol, pushing back the Serpents and the Lions.

War has turned inward lately, the peacekeepers barely need to do shit anymore, the cells in Nine are too busy picking each other off to rebel.

Now he stands in the courtyard of Adroxis Ammunitions, hands tucked under his arms as the winter frost curls long fingers over his. His workers wander all over the yard, pushing past each other, trying to get a better viewpoint to see the new victor. There'll be no fighting today, it's too risky for that, but it is the perfect time for an information snatch. So while Babe stands on the steps to the factory, waiting for Terra, Burma and Tara head off to Nine's Peacekeeper headquarters to steal some information.

News travels quickly into Nine through holes in the fence and the mouths that move it. Goods are passed through small dug out holes and letters, still coded in the old ways find themselves onto Babe's desk.

Terra Montague, Victor of the 5th Games, spending way too long in the upper districts. Killer queen, kids call her on the streets here. New information comes in all the time and no matter how close the rebels try to keep it, some of it always finds its way out. Everyone in Nine knows the stakes by now. Babe's had kids banging on his doors for weeks now, asking him to teach them how to kill.

Few days back, he was so tired of it, he handed this young kid a gun and told them, "Just fuckin' shoot."

It wasn't loaded.

A car pulls up to the gates and Babe straightens, stubbing out the spliff he was finishing as he does so. The crowd goes quiet for a moment, as if everyone is taking a breath at once, and then erupts into sound as the door to the car opens and Terra steps out.

She's the first of her kind, he thinks without thought as she approaches.

Blonde hair pulled back and this look in her eyes that Babe's seen hundreds of times staring back at him in the mirror. She's not like Mo but she's not like Samiq or Adder either.

She's just something different, and he knows that like how he knows the sun will rise in the morning. He feels something in him bend as she gets closer, a sharpness pushes through his shoulder and he winces. It's that old bullet wound acting up again in the frost, that's all.

She gets up the steps, two peacekeepers following closely and sticks a hand out for him. "I'm Terra," she says. Her voice is lower, flatter than he thought it was going to be but Babe doesn't miss a beat.

"You read lips, Terra?" he asks her, speaking slower than usual so she can understand the question. The crowd screams, notes of excitement and hatred blending into this weird hybrid of sound. Babe's almost grateful that Terra can't hear it.

He takes her hand and shakes, hand wrapped firmly, warmly around hers. "Babe," he says and hooks a thumb at himself, "Happy to have you in Nine."

Babe tugs her forward a little bit before letting go, turning to go inside as he does so in an effort to signal that they were leaving.

As the large double doors to the factory swing open in front of them, Babe turns back towards Terra and her peacekeeper entourage before he speaks. "You know the agreement," he tells the peacekeepers, "I keep us in sight, you stay back, yeah?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, just gestures Terra forward through the rows of work benches, half built guns on some, a scattering of tools on others from when the peacekeepers announced that the Victor was on her way. Babe turns to face her again and waves a little to get her attention. He doesn't really know how to do this, Mo was a weird case but easy as hell to read, just a kid.

Terra's eyes are dark like his, that makes her a mystery.

"Those pirate ships were some bullshit, huh? Can't believe the shit you had to deal with this year," he says and leans back on a bench.