Grand Opening Gala: Beyond the Broadcast!

[L△LIA]

All at once, the entire building goes dark. Shouts of surprise echo throughout a crowd of socialites and celebrities, all dressed to the nines and here to be seen. This is not what they expected, but expected isn’t on the night’s itinerary. When they arrived there were no ice sculptures, no red carpet, no decorative flourishes whatsoever. The hall where the evening’s guests were directed is completely empty, walls blank except for a series of doors along one of the walls and little else to look at beyond the matte black flooring. More than one person was outraged at the apparent lack of effort, but others found themselves loving how the stark minimalism emphasized their own glitz and glamor.

“Welcome,” greets the voice of a woman who clearly thrives on each and every reaction she has managed to egg from the crowd, her amusement booming in surround sound. “I’m flattered that our little get together has inspired such a turnout. I know this isn’t quite what any of you had in mind when you imagined what might be waiting for you,” the soft click of her shoes is amplified by the perfect darkness, every ear fixated on even these minute details, “but that’s rather the point, now isn’t it.” For the span of a single heartbeat, the entire room seems to hold its breath. Then, with a simple snap of Dia Voltaire’s fingers, chaos erupts.

Dozens of screams rip the air apart as light explodes within the room. Suddenly there is blue all around and the ocean is in the sky, filled with whales drifting and diving through schools of smaller fish, blissfully ignoring the children plummeting toward the room of Capitolites in ball gowns and glitter. It is a familiar scene of flying sharks and jellyfish swooping to lower countless boys and girls onto chimney tops throughout the crowd and yet there isn’t a soul in the room who could claim to have experienced this before. When the gong rings out, many of the gala attendees find themselves taken aback, trying to huddle against the protection of chimneys that don’t exist or dropping to the ground to avoid a cacophony of fists swinging through the air.

Snap.

Everything freezes. Familiar faces hang in midair, leaping paused. A razor sharp playing card holds itself to the throat of a man in a particularly nice fuchsia suit who doesn’t seem to know whether he should be smiling from the novelty of it all or preparing his last breath. Pipes that are not pipes, but merely colored air, are scattered around their feet. “Some of you might say there is nothing in this room. No furniture, no banquet table... a particularly upsetting absence of champagne.” There are crayons. Everywhere. “To those of you who think you are standing in an empty room, I’m afraid I have to disagree.” There is no stage, but the curator of the museum weaves a path through the crowd that is difficult to ignore. “All of us stand within a place that is absolutely filled with possibilities. This institution has always sought to be a home for history, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t also embrace the future. Each of us here tonight knows what was —” Raising one hand into the air, the world all around twists until chimneys and their tributes hang from the ceiling and a second set remains upon the ground. Above is one bloodbath, below another. Dia smiles up at the tribute who had been posed beside her only a moment ago and Jano Karmichael extends his hand. The offer is not meant for her, but rather the young girl standing beside the curator who reaches out to take her brother’s hand and be pulled up to stand upon the ceiling beside him. “— but why should that stop us from contemplating what could have been?”

Turning her attention toward a more gruesome scene, Dia’s signature satin suit is a jarring contrast to the girl with a croquet mallet shaped like a pink flamingo lodged in the underside of her jaw. “Hello, Zanita.” There’s a blink and a suspicious shift of her gaze as Zanita Luzell side eyes the woman who has approached her, somehow unaware that this might not be the ideal moment for making new acquaintances.

“Hey,” she responds. The mallet bounces with the small movement of her jaw and a few droplets of blood shake loose and splatter on her chest. Altas Lumiere remains suspended in time beside her, hands still wrapped around the famous murder weapon. Looking the situation up and down, Dia twists a finger through the air and the battle footage rewinds. Taking a step back, Atlas pulls his flamingo free and all the droplets of blood and little flecks of torn skin go flying back into Zanita’s unwounded chin. There’s a pause and then the conductor’s finger twists in reverse until the killing blow is in full swing and Zanita’s jaw has been completely shattered, the momentum pushing her body toward the edge of the roof. Before she can tumble over, Dia gestures her back and time rewinds once more until all of the gore has disappeared and no one would know they were looking at a girl who had died if they hadn’t just been given such a graphic reminder.

"Could you please tell us, in your own words, what happened here?"

There is a pause as Zanita looks around the empty room that has become a rooftop, at both the tributes she recognizes and at a crowd that has become part of a distinctly new scene. "I was in the bloodbath. That boy smacked me in the face. It broke my jaw," Dia watches the hologram with an expression of sympathy for a recitation of simple events with terrible repercussions, but also with a hint of anticipation. It is expected that the holograms should know what happened to them, but the curator has greater expectations, "it hurt like fucking hell." The words carry through the room, not only because of harsh bite of the language, but because the curses express an opinion. It is subtle, but the implications begin sparking realization throughout the crowd. Not only have these holograms been programed with the original games footage, they are attempting to guess at the emotions at play. Walking to the edge of the rooftop, Zanita peers over and shrugs matter of factly. "Then I fell. Then I died." It was an end, but it wasn't the only one.

"This," Dia returns her attention to the crowd, arms spread to gesture at the bloodbath the Capitolites themselves stand in, tributes dotted throughout, "is a familiar scene to us all. We know what happened here and remember when our hearts broke for Zanita, a girl who held so much potential. There were many of us who believed that she would be a fierce and lasting competitor, if only..." Snap. Zanita and Atlas are reset and the croquet mallet is once again swinging through the air, except this time his foot slips against a loose roof tile and his attack is too wide, missing her jaw by mere inches. Reaching her throwing cards in time, the razor sharp edge of the queen of diamonds is flung in retaliation, lodging itself deeply into Atlas's eye. The life blinks out of him instantly, Zanita kicking him in the chest to push him backwards off the edge of a roof that suddenly feels unfamiliar to her. "Things could have gone a little bit differently. Beyond the Broadcast! invites you to explore history from every angle, including entirely new ones. In a place where anything is possible, tell me, what can you imagine?"

(OOC: A special thank you to Geebs for plotting this post with me and contributing all of Zanita's reactions.

This thread is open to be responded to by Capitol characters attending the grand opening gala. This is the end of the speech and now guests are welcome to interact with the 75th Games holograms. Interactions and IC questions may be directed at Zanita (Geebs), who will be available to respond so that everyone can explore the exhibit and interact directly with a tribute hologram. You may ask her things like Games facts or IC character opinions.

If you would like to interact with holograms of other 75th Games tributes (having conversations or interactions other than replaying original footage), the original writers of the characters are welcome to respond. Please ask them for permission. If you would like to interact with holograms from other Games, etc, please do so in a separate thread so as not to over-complicate this one.

Any questions about this event may be directed to me. I will be available on Slack.)