( red right hand )

deezee ashfrost. 32. he/him. district 10. victor of the 60th hunger games.

walking out towards the gate you'll all be stars now, just you wait done enough to take the bait don't let my sorrow turn to hate

full bio / connections / playlist / pinterest / skeleton

HC WRAP:

PISTA IS SURPRISED by the revelation about District Thirteen and is unable to process anything else for a moment. Briefly, he lets his mouth run off as he begins to ask DeeZee question after question, which DeeZee, despite his limited knowledge, tries his best to answer, but not too long after, Pista stops himself and the barrage of questions. It’s clear that DeeZee doesn’t know enough, and now isn’t really the time to be discussing this when they could do more of that later on, in safety, once they’re together again in the meeting place. DeeZee’s words do give Pista a bit more hope, the promise of safety and home too good to pass off, even though it’s clear the both of them still have their apprehensions, but for once, he tries to be an optimist and believe that the two of them will be seeing one another again after separating now. They share one big hug, a little longer this time, and clap each other’s backs before parting at last with some firm see you laters.

PISTA CAN PRACTICALLY hear DeeZee pleading for him to just go along with the plan, and as much as he wants to push back, he’s not about to argue with his best friend right now. This may well be the last they’ll be seeing of each other until much, much later, and he doesn’t want to spend it pushing for something that DeeZee clearly thinks isn’t going to happen. Pista shakes his head, puts both his hands up as if in surrender saying, “Fine. Fine.” When he lowers them, he looks back up at DeeZee, and he finds himself wishing things didn’t have to be so complicated. “Just…” he starts, and his voice breaks before he can continue, and straight away, he pulls DeeZee into a hug, tight and firm and strong.

“Just be there,” he mutters as he squeezes, knowing there’s nothing else to say that could possibly change DeeZee’s mind. “Wherever it is we’re going…” It occurs to him now that he hasn’t even asked DeeZee. If they’re leaving the tower, where in the world are they even going? “…You gotta be there. Okay?” He gives his friend another tight squeeze, for a moment wanting this hug to last longer than he knows it can, before pulling away and heaving a particularly heavy sigh. He shakes his head, gestures vaguely with an arm before deciding to change the topic, quickly before the buildup of what seems to be tears behind his eyes breaks through. “The hell are we going anyway?”

...

He feels bad forcing Pista to say he’s okay with this shit, he really does, but there isn’t really much of a choice at this moment. He’s still got too much to do, too many people to hit from the Districts that Griffin gave him to tell, and he still needs to try for sponsorships, too. As much as he wishes he could guarantee they’ll be able to find each other in time after finishing everything and head there together, he can’t imagine risking Pista’s safety in case something goes wrong with his own shit. That doesn’t make it any less emotional when Pista gives in, and immediately pulls him into a hug as his voice breaks. It makes warm tears start to pool behind his own eyes, his chest feel tight, the threat of all of the emotion he’s been trying to ignore since Griffin dropped so many bombs on him bubbling up. All he can do is hug Pista back tight, nod along with his words.

“I’ll be there, I swear I will, Pista. We’re gonna get out of this hellhole together,” he mutters, letting his eyes close for a second, staying in the hug. He knows that he needs to keep going, that he can’t linger here with Pista for much longer now that he’s passed most everything on, but that doesn’t make the thought of leaving him and not knowing if he makes it or not until much later any easier. He wishes desperately that they could stick together, but he knows he’s making the right choice, knows he’ll be putting Pista in more danger if they do all of it together. When they pull back, it’s clear Pista is just as emotional about having to do this separately, not knowing, too, but he tries to focus for his sake as well. At least he has an answer full of a weird sense of hope. “Thirteen. I don’t know the details, Griff couldn’t tell me much, time is short as fuck, but apparently that’s where the rebels are. There’s some sort of base there, maybe has been since it got destroyed, but that’s where we’re heading. We’re getting out, we’re gonna be safe,” he says emphatically, letting that hope creep into his voice. “We just gotta make sure we all get to the meeting point, then it’s home free.”

It’s hard to hear him say that he has things to take care of. She wants to tell him he’s being an idiot. That he’ll die in the process and that if he doesn’t stick around with them, he wont make it. The thought of him not being there sound unbearable and she doesn’t want to let him keep falling into this idea of martyrdom. What of all their conversations?

Unfortunately, there’s defeat too, knowing that he wouldn’t even listen even if she did beg and plea, he wouldn’t give in. So her jaw tenses, and she gets herself ready to leave. “Don’t keep us waiting too long, okay?” There was obvious worry and concern in her tone, fearful of what will come his way.

...

He can see it on her face, of course, he can, the way she wants to argue, wants to push back and tell him how stupid of a choice it is to risk staying around for any longer than this. And he wishes that they were in a place where he could be honest, explain to her that Griffin had given him a job, things to do to make sure everyone got the message before he left, too, and he can’t shrink back from that. It’s a chance to do something good for once in his sad life, but he meant it when he promised Griffin he wouldn’t do anything stupid, when he promised Pista he wouldn’t be a martyr, he means it here, too. Of course, he has no way of controlling what goes on around him, but he’s gonna try.

Reaching over, DeeZee puts his hand on her wrist, gives it a little squeeze, tries to convey all of that in a look. “I promise I won’t. I’ll be careful, quiet as a fuckin’ mouse for once, I swear,” he says seriously, giving her wrist another squeeze before getting up and getting ready to go do just that. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you soon, Aldera.” 

DEEZEE’S CLEARLY UPSET by Griffin’s non-answer, though it’s obvious he’d already figured there was really only one way for things to go for those they’d left behind. Griffin’s upset about it too, knowing there are plenty of people back in the districts who don’t deserve what’s coming to them, but if the rebels truly mean to help Panem and not merely their own small collective, then Griffin wants to hold out hope for some kind of plan. Maybe there’s something in place, maybe they’ve got rebel-aligned people planted in the districts too, maybe there’s still a way out for some of them. He knows how much like wishful thinking that sounds, but there must be other facets to this plan too, right? It can’t just be them and their small group. The fight is meant to be for everyone else, for the whole of Panem. There’s got to be something.

But then again, what does he know? He’s only one cog in this machine, getting another cog to start whirling. DeeZee asks if there’s anything more, and Griffin shakes his head, that feeling of impatience and panic once again starting to creep up the back of his neck now that their conversation is coming to an end. After this, it’ll be time to go; he’ll head back up to Twelve, and then the real, harder work begins. “That’s it, kiddo. That’s all of it,” he says, squeezing DeeZee on the shoulder. “I’m trusting you to pass all that along, hard as it will be to. But I know you can do it. I’m counting on you.” He fixes him a look, then brings his hand up to firmly pat DeeZee’s cheek, before stepping away from him. “I’ll see you later at the safe spot, yeah?”

...

The panic is really starting to creep up again now, realizing that this is it, and he’s got this enormous job to do as soon as they part ways. He’s already trying to come up with a plan, an order to make this easiest, but there’s really no telling where anyone is right now, which makes having enough time essential. Stop by Ten again first to see if Bandi is around, plus get a few of his things he can hide on his person, then on to Pista, and Aldera, before Ivory, then trying for sponsorships, which includes making sure Coco isn’t going to do anything stupid either to try to keep everyone else safe. It’s a lot to accomplish in a short amount of time, considering there’s no guarantee of where he’ll find anyone or if that order will work, especially when the Games are still going on, screens everywhere, still the worry that they’re not all gonna make it that far either. He refuses to let himself even consider the Districts, his family any further right now, because he might just break if he does, and he’s promised he’s gonna do this right. 

All there is to do is try, but that doesn’t make the amount riding on his shoulders feel any lighter. DeeZee’s mind is already far away from here, and he’s practically ready to start sprinting back into Ten as soon as Griffin says that’s all there is. He nods, keeps nodding, appreciative of the shoulder squeeze. Griffin seems to believe in him, says he knows he can do it, that he’s counting on him even though he knows it’s gonna be hard, and that’s gotta be enough to make him believe he can do it, too, now, because there’s not really time for doubt. The way Griffin pats his cheek reminds him of the way his own uncle always says goodbye, the rough but fond gesture, saying more than they can manage in words. It makes DeeZee’s throat feel a little tight, but he pushes past that. “I’ll get it all done,” he says, trying to sound certain, taking a deep breath and stepping back towards Ten. “Yeah, I’ll see you at the spot. Thanks, Griff, for trusting me with all of this. I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you, DeeZee.” Aldera lets out a long breath, her tone serious and genuine. Of course DeeZee would do what he could to help out those his frineds loved, but that didn’t make it mean any less to her. There wasn’t a lot of hope left in her for what could be done, but she knew that most of the hope laid in Riggs, but now DeeZee was helping and maybe that would make things better.

She looks down closely as DeeZee draws the map and then scribbles more notes. So they’re leaving leaving. Getting the fuck out of here. Her stomach churns as the reality of all of this starts to settle in. She swallows hard and her knee begins to bounce anxiously. She tears the map out of the page and puts it in her pocket for safe keeping. “I should go find Pista.” She says, thinking the words are vague enough to say out loud. It would be good to be with him. “Do you want to come with?” It would be better if they were all together, right?

...

He nods, tries to give her as close to a smile as he can manage now when he’s terrified, and running on pure adrenaline still. At least they can try to set Birch up to keep going, even if they won’t know what happens for a good long while. That’s gotta mean something, considering everything else feels so uncertain right now. He can feel her own anxiety wafting into the air now, too, and it’s clear she’s ready to get things going now. She mentions finding Pista, and he knows that now comes the part that he had argued with Pista over for the better part of their conversation. He’s only hoping that since they can’t talk as outright here, it’ll be a little easier to convince Aldera to head on without him, and that he’ll meet them both there when he’s finished. 

It’s hard to deny it, but he can’t go yet, and he knows it would be way too suspicious and dangerous to try to accomplish everything he needs to with Aldera and Pista trailing him around for the rest of the six hours. “I want to, but I’ve got some shit I gotta take care of right now first. But I’ll see you two later, alright? I’ll come find you all after and we’ll watch tonight together, yeah?” DeeZee says, a hint of something verging on desperate in his voice, hoping she’ll get it, that she won’t try to convince him otherwise. “I won’t be long, I promise. Just, you know, find somewhere comfy, and save a seat for me.”

THERE’S SO FEW to truly trust in the Capitol that finally being told one of the people he’d always felt good about actually can be trusted is such a relief to Pista. He wonders if he can find Coco again later, maybe see if he can ask help with sponsorships from her too, but for now, he’s glad that it appears DeeZee had chosen the right Capitolite to befriend all those years ago. All the same, the plan appears not to have changed at all despite his protestations and suggestions: DeeZee wants him to go on ahead, to go directly to the safe place after his business, without sticking around to look or wait for him. Pista still isn’t comfortable with it, and he can already tell that once he finds Aldera, she’ll likely want to find DeeZee too so they can all go together, and maybe any other day, he’d cave and stay true to his word, but right now, he can’t bear the thought of DeeZee possibly staying out just a bit too long and then getting himself into some kind of trouble.

“I… okay. Okay, just…” he starts to say, struggling with his words a little, before he shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head. “I mean, if I can fucking find Aldera, then the two of us should probably be able to find you too, right?” he adds, and then looks back up at DeeZee, something clearly pleading about the expression on his face. He’s not an optimist, never has been. His mind will always, always come up with the worst possible outcome when given the chance, and he thinks if he doesn’t keep DeeZee close, something will happen. “Please don’t stay out too long, Deez. I know the old man’s probably given you a lot of responsibility, but that’s no reason to stay out here and wait until it’s too late, is it?” continues Pista. “Don’t be a fucking martyr and don’t cause too much trouble than you’re capable of getting out of.”

...

He gets it, he really does, and in the end there’s no stopping Pista from waiting around to try to look for him, just like there’s no way that Pista is gonna stop him from making sure everyone else he cares about makes it out first, and doing all he needs before even thinking about heading that way himself. But still, he hopes that Pista won’t hang around too long, that even if he does try to look for him, he’ll head there with plenty of time to spare, even if that means not going in with DeeZee. All he can really do is make a noise of skepticism, because there’s a difference between finding Aldera and finding him, and he thinks they both know that. Even without the responsibility that Griff’s given him to take care of, he’s got more people he needs to look out for, more people he needs to make sure get there first than Pista or Aldera, and that’s just a fact. And the possibility of both of them staying out for too long looking for him and then ending up in danger because of it is something he could never forgive himself for. 

“If we had fuckin’ walkie talkies, sure, but I’ve got so many places to hit before I can go, I don’t know how we can plan for it. Just, trust me, okay? Trust me just this once. I wanna get out of this hellhole as much as everyone else, and I’m not planning on doing anything that’s gonna jeopardize my chances of making it. I mean it,” he says, a hint of pleading creeping into his voice now. DeeZee lets out a breath of humorless laughter. “Me? Cause more trouble than I can get out of? Never. But seriously, I’m not gonna play that game today, this is too important. I won’t be a martyr, if you don’t do the same trying to find me, okay? We’ll meet where it’s safe.”

IT’S HARD FOR him to have to dump so much information on DeeZee this way, especially knowing it’s not exactly easy information to swallow either, but he doesn’t really have a choice in the matter. There’s no delicate way to put any of this, and there’s no time to take things slow. If they all mean to get things done as quickly as they can ( and they have to ), this is how it’s got to go. And, he assumes, this is how it’ll have to go between DeeZee and all those he has to tell too. He can see it in the younger Victor’s face, hear the strain in his voice. Learning that Thirteen is out there, has been out there all along, is neither a picnic nor a walk in the park. He can’t blame DeeZee for swearing as much and for struggling to process all these revelations. “Yeah. Yeah, I know,” says Griffin, nodding quickly. “I get the feeling, kid.”

And he does, truly he does, but what DeeZee goes on to ask him next ends up, admittedly, catching him more off guard than he’d expected it would. He asks Griffin about the ones left behind in the districts, about family, and something aches inside his chest, realizing he hadn’t quite considered any of that before now. Neither he nor Ostro have family left for them in the districts, and with Zero being in the arena, he doubts there are any others left for the android beyond the ones in this tower. Griffin is in a similar boat. He has one more fellow he’s worried about left in Twelve, but things have been so grim and dismal that he’d all but assumed they’d gotten his father figure captured or killed already anyway. Hearing DeeZee point it out now, and recognizing just how many the guy has left in the districts, Griffin can’t help but look down. “I’m sorry,” he says, almost ashamed to look at him, knowing this will be the hardest of all to swallow. “I don’t think that’s something I can really answer.” He sighs. “And even if I could, I doubt it’d be something you’d want to hear.”

...

The answer isn’t unexpected, but that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. It’s clear that it’s not necessarily something that Griffin’s thought about fully, or at the very least something that no one’s given him the answer to yet. DeeZee’s well aware he’s one of the rare victors, after all, a victor who’s family surprisingly, despite his vocal hatred of things, hasn’t had to suffer the consequences of his own choices since his Games. No, he’s done a good enough job at fucking them all up and over that the Capitol apparently has never felt the need to intervene and do it themselves. That’s all over now, though. If they’re ever still alive in Ten right now, after the show that DeeZee’s given the past few days, then he’ll be all but signing their death wishes by making his escape with everyone else. There’s no possible way that any of his family is going to make it out of this alright, and they both know that. So DeeZee swallows hard, and nods, trying to ignore the way his throat feels tight thinking about his uncle, what they might put him through when he’s been one of the only people to stick by DeeZee, despite what he had to do to his daughter all those years ago. He can’t even consider his brothers, it hurts too much, and there’s too much to do.

“Well...I hope they can at least go out with a fight, if they’re not already gone. That’s what I’d want, anyway,” he mutters, looking down at nothing in particular, more to himself than Griffin, really. It’s hard to imagine, so he tries to stop his thoughts from going any further down that path right now. He can have that panic once he’s in that room, safe, waiting to leave.  DeeZee looks back up at Griffin, trying to focus through it all. In that moment, he’s very aware that he’s probably wasting time standing here, teetering on the edge of panic, when they should both be out telling the people they need to and getting out. “That’s all she wrote then, yeah? Nothing else I need to pass along besides this massive amount of shit?”

THE RELIEF IN DeeZee’s face is palpable, and Griffin hates that this is what being in the Capitol’s pushed him to do all these years. Of course, Griffin’s one to talk, having relied on the bottle himself to stay sane on some level for over two decades. Thankfully, though, they’re both here now, closer to escape than they have ever been since they got here, so close to finding release from the things that have gripped them and have had them in their clutches this whole time. Griffin reaches up to pat him on the shoulder as he takes that information in. And then, not long after, the plans are unfolded to him. DeeZee’s reactions are understandable, but Griffin barely has time to quell his very valid worries himself, and he’s only glad DeeZee’s able to exercise some understanding and self-control so he doesn’t have to. 

“I know,” Griffin whispers back just as DeeZee pulls him down by the neck again, unable to risk talking in volumes louder than this for fear of listening ears and watching eyes. “How do you think me and the android felt when we were pulled aside for it?” As much as it looks like he and Silver are the ones calling the shots, they really aren’t, and the two of them have had to process and plan on the fly too, having been given all this information so suddenly, with the added pressure of being the ones to relay it clearly and correctly enough the first time so others can pass it along too. “There’s only so much planning you can do on such short notice. We’re all just going to have to try our best. And as for where…” Quickly after, to DeeZee’s question — a very important one at that — Griffin holds up both hands, one finger raised on one, and three raised on the other. He hopes that’s clear enough before adding, “It’s somewhere out there. They’re working with us. Like-minded folk.”

...

It’s probably one of the most fucked up conversations he’s ever had, which is saying something considering how most conversations with him have gone since he came out of his Games. But it’s a shit ton of information thrown at him at once, with responsibility that probably shouldn’t be on shoulders as chaotic and unpredictable as his own, along with dozens of warning of the unknown, and very real danger of what will happen if even part of this haphazard and disorganized plan don’t go the way they’re meant to. And how could they, when they have such little time, and no real way to communicate with each other openly and all at once? DeeZee lets out a deep sigh, but nods, heart pounding hard still, but determined to do what Griffin says, to try their best to make it all happen. 

The revelation that Griffin gives him about the after is a fucking shock to say the least, though, enough so that he’s silent for a moment, stunned, after Griffin holds up his fingers, the message clear enough. He has to wonder how long he’s known, and how it’s even possible, but those aren’t questions for now. Hard to focus with so much shit suddenly hitting him, though. “Fuck, really? How? Fuck, okay, what the fuck...this whole time? And they didn’t think to...fuck,” he can’t help the cursing, stopping himself over and over again from the words he really wants to say, the questions he really wants to ask. It’s both hopeful and terrifying to consider that Thirteen exists out there, that it has this whole time maybe, and they’ve been working on a rebellion, but doing it at a snail’s pace. The terrifying part is the unknown, knowing that that means he’s not gonna be going back to Ten, back home, none of them are, and that the people back home likely aren’t going to be making it to Thirteen, since he assumes they’re not planning on stopping in every District along the way to pick up loved ones. He thinks of his parents, his uncle, his brothers, how he’s failed them so deeply already, how they deserve a spot in safety way fucking more than he does. “It’s not fair that we get to...what about my brothers, my family? What about Ten? There’s nothing we can do for them...is there?”

Whatever you think will give him the best chance. Well, he’s got shit chance regardless. Aldera can’t guarantee he’ll find someone to stick with, not all the money in the world could bring tributes together in the arena. But it’s a nice gesture. And she spends a moment thinking about what could possible do him good right now. But the gesture lands her with her lips in a thin line. “Anything, honestly. Things to keep him safe and sound. He’s got nothing so really anything is better than nothing. Food, water, shelter, whatever.” And she trusts DeeZee is able to come up with something, too. He wouldn’t set Birch up with something unhelpful.

Then she leans forward, reading over the note and she tries not to let it show on her face, or make some sort of sound to give it away just how shocked she is by the confession of Thirteen. This is a lot for the brain wrap itself around but there’s clearly urgency in the moment. There’s no time for her shock or her additional question. She just looks at the smudged lines on his hands and looks up at him before scribbling down on the notepad. What the fuck is that sweaty mess?

...

He’s not really sure, in honesty, what he can send to Birch that might end up getting him to find the rest of the tributes when they don’t even know where the hell he is in relation to them, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to put in the effort to try to give him something. That’s what Griffin said to do, after all. Last minute sponsorships to get them all set up to keep going, and keep together, so that they can pick them all up when the time comes. He’s not naive enough to think that all of them will make it that far, but he’s pretty sure none of them will stand a chance if they get pessimistic or too realistic just now. They’ve gotta hold onto the little sliver of hope. “Okay, yeah, anything to keep him safe and sound, I’m sure we can come up with something to help. Just gotta convince Coco it’s worth it,” he adds the last part mostly for show, for whoever might be listening or watching, knowing already the likelihood of her saying no is dependent on time, not on if she thinks it’s worth trying.

The other bit is even more important, though, getting Aldera the information about where to go and when. No surprise she looks shocked as hell, and he wishes he could be direct, could give her the little bit he does know in a more straightforward way, but this is all they have. DeeZee sighs, and rolls his eyes, but more at himself and his sweaty hand than at her. He takes the pen back, and tries to quickly draw an approximation of the map that’s now half sweated away. Follow that hallway and go through that door, it’s the meeting spot. Or better yet, find Pista and go with him through the kitchen. Hell, he’d have everyone go through the secret, indirect way if he had the choice, safer for them all, loud or not, as Griffin put it. 

IT’S A LOT to take in, and Pista’s normally already cluttered mind just feels even more messy now with the addition of all this new, and frankly terrifying information. It’s wild, considering how much hope there is to be found in this if it all succeeds, but it’s so scary how easily things could go wrong too. A single slip-up, one tiny misstep, someone stays out too late or is, god forbid, taken even before they can make it to the safe place and… Pista shakes his head, and immediately starts to speak out loud as if to talk over his own thoughts. “Okay… Okay, I’ll tell Harquin,” he says, practically pants out, every single part of him somehow feeling simultaneously frozen and yet also panicked, with all this energy and franticness that he doesn’t quite know what to do with. “Maybe I can find you again, tell Bandi with you, and…” He’d heard it a moment back, but it only hits him now, and he interrupts his own words. “Shit, man, Coco, though… Damn…” Too much to take in all at once, and he tries to force himself to calm down.

For the most part, it works, and he’s able to tell DeeZee what he knows he has to tell him before they part ways and do what it is they’ve got to. “Look, I… It would make me feel so much better if we could go there together. Maybe you, me, and Aldera could meet up again if we haven’t gone yet, and…” It hits him, of course, how improbable that sounds, considering they could all be anywhere in the tower at any given point, and there’s no real direct way to communicate. Just people fumbling about, trying to discreetly find one another in this fucking tower so they can all head to safety. He pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment, shutting his eyes, before putting a hand out between them. “Just. You have to get there. Okay? Before us, after us, at the same time… You gotta be there. I’ll fucking… stall the escape if you’re not there yet.”

...

He watches as Pista takes it in, nods along with his words, although he doesn’t really have a whole lot of hope that they’ll manage to meet up again after they part ways here. It’s not that he doesn’t want to––hell, he wishes to any higher power that might be listening that they didn’t have to do this on their own, that they could do it together, so at least he would know Pista is safe, could guarantee that they both make it out together, because he doesn’t know if he can do any of it without his best friend––but he knows how dangerous sticking together will be through this, and how impossible it’ll be to coordinate enough to meet up again discreetly before going to the spot, when they all have so much to do, and there are a thousand unknown factors. They can’t really afford to focus too hard on the panic that comes with having to split up right now, though, so instead DeeZee focuses on the other part of Pista’s words. “Yeah, Coco’s apart of it, apparently, thank fuck. She’ll help make sure we’re safe, I know she will,” he nods. 

It makes his chest feel tight, the way Pista says it would make him feel better if they could go together, because he feels the same, but he knows how impossible it is. For some reason, it makes his eyes sting, maybe the adrenaline of it all, and the panic of not knowing when he’ll see Pista next after this. He pushes it down by taking a long drag of his cigarette, holding onto Pista’s arm tighter, as it seems Pista also realizes how unlikely that is. “You know I wish it was possible, too... But even if you can’t find me after you’ve tried for sponsorships again, find Aldera, and you two get out of here together. I’ll meet you there, okay?” he says emphatically, looking Pista in the eye, trying to make it clear how real his promise is. “I will, Pista, I promise. I’ll get there. I just gotta take care of some shit first, but I’m gonna be careful. I’m not gonna let you live through the embarrassment of trying to stall a whole ass escape plan by yourself. I’ll be there.”

She just wanted a bit of peace and quiet. Riggs seemed to have it taken care of for a little bit, so she could happily escape all the chaos in her mind and seek refuge on Eleven’s floor. Unfortunately, that solace was interrupted when the door rushes open and DeeZee nearly stumbles in. 

Aldera’s body jolts and then he’s sits beside her, grabbing her notebook and flipping to a new page. “What the fu—,” But he’s already talking and her eyes bulge and this isn’t just some warm-check in. No, there’s urgency and a mission here and her body goes flush once she reads the note. On instinct, she reaches up, hand on the notebook to grab the sheet and rip it out, shoving it in their pocket in case someone could see. Even if it is only the two of them and the Avox. “What are you talking about?” She shakes her head and blinks, “You want to help Birch how exactly? He’s all on his own.” But she reaches to take the note back out of her pocket, flattening it and following up with, leaving? to go where?

...

He feels kind of bad for how jarring his entrance clearly is, but there’s not time for apologies, and between Aldera and Pista, he needs to get them both moving now, and the best way has always been his chaos. He figures they’ll probably have a much more calm, but anxious talk after he leave Eleven anyway. Luckily, she gets with the program quick, ripping the page out of the notebook and shoving it out of sight, which at least tells him the message is loud and clear. And she plays along, too, which is even better, they can deal with both parts of this at the same time, save them both time, get everyone they need to safe sooner rather than later. 

“I was thinking we could find a way to try to get him to the big group, or even Harbor and Abe, maybe get him some supplies so he can keep going in the meantime. Whatever you think will give him the best chance. I just wanna do what I can to help now that Ten’s got no one left,” he says, and he means it, even if the words come out a little fast, a little frantic, for the subject matter. He takes the note and pen back from her, and writes quickly, his scrawl even worse as he tries to lay it all out as best as he can. Thirteen. It’s still there, a hidden rebel base or some shit. We’re supposed to meet here before time runs out, and then we’ll go pick up the tributes. They’re working on their own part of the plan. He opens his palm for Aldera to see the map Griffin drew, even if it’s smudged now from how fucking sweaty and stressed he is.

THERE’S A MOMENT where Griffin is worried that DeeZee’s going to let his emotions get the better of him here, but he catches it himself and stops his own train of thought before it gets there. Griffin lets himself feel proud for a moment. It’s what we gotta do, he says, and Griffin wants to commend him for that, for recognizing how important it is despite how difficult, but there’s just no time. He can only hope DeeZee’s next conversations will be as easy as this because Griffin knows, with what’s in store for him up in Twelve, that he won’t be able to say the same for himself. DeeZee, of course, seems ready to do what needs to be done, but with that comes a hefty amount of moderation. They all want to do their part, and if it means DeeZee has to sell his soul one more time to ensure safety for the Tributes, then Griffin has to draw the line there. “Don’t. We’ve got other helpers in the cause. Your stylist friend is one of them. Maybe you can get an in through her.” 

Before he’s able to ask more, only because there’s so little time left and they all need to be moving into their tasks, Griffin keeps going. “Now listen close. People like you, noisy ones, and you know what I mean by that, have to go through here,” he says as he points to a particular pathway on DeeZee’s palm, before moving onto another. “Your more innocent friends can pass directly through here. You see why we’ve got to have separate waves coming in through different times and places. And I know you can understand why we have to move now and trust that the Tributes can hold out long enough before we’re able to pick them up.” He recognizes that this is putting a lot on DeeZee, but he trusts him, utterly and completely, to do his best. “I’m counting on you, kid.” He clasps the back of the DeeZee’s neck, gently pushing him down towards him. “But don’t stay out too long, and don’t do anything reckless.“

...

There’s an enormous sense of relief that comes with Griffin telling him in the same breath not to offer himself up to any more sponsors like that right now, and that Coco in on their side, has been for a long time, it sounds like. It’s not a surprise, of course, having known her for a long time now, having seen why she was sent in as a replacement in the first place, the way the last one in her shoes had been too vocal in their support. Coco showed the same since the beginning, but she did it in quiet ways. Understanding that fucking Capitolites rarely had for victors and those from the Districts, gentleness that isn’t really taught to people in her position usually. He’s glad to know he’s put his trust in the right person, but it also makes him realize that when he asks for her help, he needs to make sure she’s still keeping herself safe, too. He couldn’t take it if she got captured because of him. “Coco, okay, thank fuck, I’ll see what she can do...” he mutters, mostly to himself, mind still racing with all of the information that Griffin is throwing at him, never very good at remembering details, but knowing how important it is right now.

He tells him to listen close and he does. He gets it, the ones that aren’t as safe, because of what they’ve said, or done, or who they’re associated with, need to take the back way in, the others can take the front, it makes sense. With no concrete plan about timing thanks to so many unknown factors, though, he’s not sure how they’re gonna move in separate waves, because he’s also not positive many of them are gonna be willing to go immediately hearing that they won’t see the end of the Games. “I know, I get it. It’s fucked up, but I get it. I don’t know how the fuck we’re all gonna manage it without something going down, though, Griff. Even if we’re careful, we’re all only human,” he says, when Griffin is finally done, pulling him down by the neck so they’re closer again. It’s the only way he really knows how to put his fears into words safely. There’s another fear, the fear of what happens if he ends up in the line of something unpredictable and has to give into his emotion, but there’s no time to linger on it. “You know shit is fucked when you’ve gotta count on an Ashfrost for something this important. But I promise, nothing reckless, I can manage that for six hours...what the fuck comes after, though, where comes after?” 

THE ELEVATOR RIDE is silent, and for a moment there, Pista has half a mind to ask if he can get any clues in now, but he doesn’t. The entire time, DeeZee keeps his hand on Pista’s arm, holding tight as though worried his friend might be dragged off somewhere if he doesn’t keep him in place. Or if not that, then it could be as if he’s holding onto him for support — could be that it’s DeeZee who needs the contact now, for whatever reason. In some way, that’s what helps ground Pista, gets him to keep his mouth shut, despite the burgeoning curiosity and dread that grows the longer the silence stretches. It feels almost like he’s holding onto a breath he doesn’t dare let go of, and it’s only once they arrive at the roof deck at last, right next to a particularly noisy wind chime, that he’s able to. The news practically knocks the breath out of him.

“What?” he blurts out as DeeZee pauses long enough to give him room to take it in. “What the fuck, I…” Pista finds himself slumping back against the railings. On one hand, it’s like it’s hitting him now, all at once; on the other, it feels as if the weight of it has yet to fully drop. He repeats it in his head: there was a plan all along. The rebels are here, and they’re all leaving. Six hours to pick up the ones in the Arena. He swears a few more times under his breath, incredulous, disbelieving, shocked, and he knows nothing he’s saying is contributing at all, but it does help him process enough to realize what leaving soon to pick up the Tributes will mean. “Wait… wait a minute. So, we’re all leaving… and we’ll be picking up the Tributes. Six hours… that means we won’t get to…” The panic rises to his throat; he won’t get to see how the Quell will pan out. If he wants to make sure his mother continues to stay safe, he needs to act now. “Fuck,” he says, turning to look at DeeZee. “What else — is there anything else I need to know? I need to tell Harquin. And my mom, I have to…” Too many thoughts going at once and there isn’t enough time to voice them all. “Who else knows? Who else do we need to tell?”

...

Pista takes it about how DeeZee had, hell, how DeeZee still is processing it, except the need to tell everyone as quickly as possible has negated some of his shock for the moment, no time to fully process before it’s too late. So he just lets Pista go through it, curse as it all seems to hit him, the disbelief and surprise, along with the dawning realization of what it means not just for them, but for those in the Arena, for his mom. It’s hard to think of that word right now, because so far DeeZee’s done a good job of focusing on what Griffin told him to do, not doing anything reckless, but if he lets himself stop and think, if he considers Tilsee and what this means for Pista’s family, it makes him think of what it’ll mean for his family, too. They might not be in the Arena, but he’s pretty fucking sure the Capitol isn’t going to let them rest if he does manage to get out, if not live, and he already knows there’s no way they’ll make it out of Ten. He squashes those thoughts for now though like a particularly rancid bug, and takes a long hit of his cigarette, blowing out a cloud of blue smoke. 

“Yeah, I know, it’s fucked up, but you get why we won’t be able to see the end; we’ve gotta be there to get them out,” he says, repeating what Griffin had told him when his own panic had risen about that part of things. It’s not a real consolation, though, the unknown terrifying when it comes to those they love. DeeZee pockets his lighter, and reaches out to put his hand on Pista’s shoulder, hoping it’ll help both of them stay grounded in the overload of information, the panic of the unknown, and danger of it all. “You don’t need to tell anyone else but Harquin; I’ve got Aldera next, then I’m gonna find Bandi and Coco, but Griff says Coco at least already knows. He’s telling Twelve, and the robot is taking care of the others. You focus on trying to get Tilsee any last minute sponsorships and then getting out through the back way as soon as you can. I’ll give you hell myself if you’re not there at the meeting point by the time I make it. Don’t make me have to do anything stupid when I’ve been expressly told not to.”

THE PAST DAYS have been a blur for Pista, of swimming in and out of proper consciousness. He’s certain he’s eaten, showered, and taken care of himself in some capacity every day, but his mind has been so focused on little more than what was going on in the Arena that he barely even remembers. Sometimes, Harquin is beside him, sitting fearfully, quietly watching the screen, and sometimes, he holds her hand, tries to reassure her without words. There’d been a palpable relief when Tilsee and Darby ( and, of course, Cabil ) finally made it to the larger group, with Zero and Holly and poor Chrysanthe seeming to be at the center of it all, but with it came an even larger sense of what now. It’s clear none of these people want to harm one another, and from the way the boy genius from Three talks, there’s obviously an even bigger plan in place, but none of his friends here in the Tower seem to know anything about it either.

It’s while he’s trapped in these very same thoughts that he hears another voice behind him, breaking through the silence of his room, and being so out of it, he doesn’t recognize who it is right away until he turns around to see. “DeeZee — I…” He shakes his head, trying to pull himself back into reality as DeeZee tugs him up by the arm. He feels like he’s been moving so slowly, and DeeZee’s here, frantic as he’s ever seen him, obviously in some kind of hurry, but the sudden pulling upwards seems to shake him out of his languid revery. “Yeah, anything. Anything you need to tell me, wherever.” There’s mention of Aldera, but DeeZee backtracks, and Pista agrees as he follows DeeZee out of there, “We can always just go to her after.” The two of them pass by Harquin, whom Pista gives a quick signal that he’ll be back, quelling the look of worry that had bloomed on her face. In no time at all, the two are out of Six’s common area, and briskly walking to the elevator.

...

It’s not the nicest way he’s ever greeted Pista, and it’s clear that his friend is in one of his moments, those times where he just kind of drifts off into his own thoughts, his own little world of worry. If there were time, he would try to ground him in a different, gentler way, but six hours is already closer to five considering the time it probably took for Griffin to get to him in the first place navigating the mess that is the tower, and they’ve gotta make due with what they have. The good news is that Pista doesn’t put up a fight, not that he thought he would, not that he ever has when DeeZee’s physically pulled him along somewhere in his chaotic moments, and as soon as he’s up, Pista seems to come back down to earth saying he’s ready for whatever it is he needs to tell him. That makes DeeZee let out a loud bark of humorless laughter, imagining Pista might not feel the same once he hears what it is, but at least they’re on their way. “Yeah, we’ll talk to her next, and you can get her later, it’s fine,” he says, waving his free hand vaguely at Harquin as he pulls Pista past her and out of Six.

He stays silent on the ride up to the rooftop, but he doesn’t let go of Pista’s arm, and maybe it’s partially the need for some physical anchor of his own to keep him from losing his shit, or doing something stupid, but he thinks Pista will understand. Once they make it there, he pulls him over to the spot next to the loudest wind chimes he’s found yet, and finally lets go, in favor of pulling a cigarette and his lighter out of his pocket. “The proverbial them finally got off their asses and put a plan in motion; guess they were working on it all along. We’re getting the fuck out of here, Pista. We have less than six hours, before we go and pick up the ones in the Arena, if they manage their part, too. We need to meet up here, there are two ways there,” he says, holding out his hand for Pista to see the map Griff drew there, sweaty as his palm is, as he lights the cigarette with his metal hand. “I know it’s a lot. I’m still fucking reeling, too, it’s hard to believe it’s actually going to happen.” 

IT’S TIMES LIKE this ( utterly rare instances ) that he’s thankful for how short he is in comparison to most others here. DeeZee’s height does more than enough to shield his face from view, keep any particularly skilled Peacekeepers at a distance from reading lips, giving him time to very quickly tell him what he needs to before the hug lasts for too long and causes suspicion. “There’s a room you can pass through either by an entryway through the kitchen or by using a more direct approach. Your friends need to be there before six hours are up,” he says, not caring to slow down too much, hoping DeeZee is listening carefully. “Tell Six, Ten, Eleven. Let us take care of the rest.” He doesn’t bother to elaborate on who us is either, knowing the kid is smart enough to put two and two together, figure out who else is in this movement with them.

“Arrange any last minute sponsorships you need to because none of us are going to see how this Quell ends, but we need to make sure they’re given more than a fighting chance before help arrives for them too.” Easier to tell DeeZee this without worrying about him panicking further, knowing he doesn’t quite have a direct loved one in the Arena, harsh as that is to think, and as soon as that’s done, Griffin breaks away and makes a show out of patting his shoulder — right before taking his non-bionic hand, and, with a pen from his pocket, very quickly sketching something out on the Victor’s palm: two separate ways into the safe place, hastily drawn from memory, as best as he can.

...

He kind of forgets for a second that he’s hugging Griffin, maybe a little too tightly, too, for his own good, considering one of his arms is made of metal, but there are too many thoughts running through his mind suddenly to worry about things like that, when they’re going to leave, when there’s a shit ton to do to get that far even. But this is also a reminder of something he’s thought himself a thousand times before. He’s got a hundred questions, but he’s meant to be a soldier, not a leader, and here he is with a commander giving him the exact orders he needs to follow. He just has to do it, no questions asked. Griffin mentions a room to get to, two ways to get there, that they need to make it before six hours are up, that he’s in charge of Six, Ten and Eleven. It’s a lot to take in, and he finds himself clinging onto the words, repeating them over and over, knowing he can’t let himself worry about the rest, he’s got to trust that Griffin already has plans, probably with the robot, to take care of the other Districts. 

“Okay, I can do that, I promise,” he mutters breathlessly, still stunned by everything he’s hearing. And if that wasn’t enough to make him panic, the fact that they won’t get to see how the Games ends nearly has him arguing with Griffin. “What the fuck, we can’t just... Fuck, no, okay, it’s what we gotta do, right?” Deezee breathes, before Griffin finally pulls back, and takes his hand. He watches Griffin draw a map on the palm of his hand, how to get to the meeting point it seems like, and his heart is still racing, but he tries to play it off, tries to act like this is all normal. “I don’t know if I can fuck another sponsor into sending a pittance in, but I should probably try, huh? Not really much else for me to do with Ten out of the running but make sure someone else wins.” His voice is serious, even in the disguise of humor; he hopes Griffin can tell that means he’s willing to do that, too, make sure the people he cares about get out first, too.