Crowded Table [Crisis Council - Blitz]

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Vasco Izar

Setting: Mayor’s Office

Friday, January 20th – 1:03AM

I’d gotten out of Eight the morning before last, the meeting with Pierre still weighing heavily on my mind.

The day had started like any other, coffee from the little kitchen in the hall. Meetings with some citizens about zoning permits. A few warrants I stamped void for lack of evidence (and suspicion of the falsehood). I daydreamed about how Yani had wanted to go to Marisol’s that night, and we were supposed to make tostadas and play dice together.

Peacekeepers had come through the door just after six with a telegram regarding the first act. The video came in clear, and I had to look away when the blasts detonated across six. I didn’t know anyone personally, aside from the name of the Mayor, but it brought back memories of Sampson and all the things he’d said years ago. The scene replayed over and over with remarks on injuries and deaths reported.

Then the building collapse in eight, and I could feel the pin prick along the length of the skin on my arms. I stood at my desk in the mayor’s office watching the scenes unfold on the television screen, right hand over my mouth, wondering then about Pierre. About the people who’d walked past me on the street. If Birdie had taken a stroll that morning and would wind up one of the unnamed dead.

At first, I wanted to believe that the two were separate incidents, that perhaps the collapse was propaganda to drive up fear over what could’ve been a district dispute. But as the sight of the flames showed again, I could feel my stomach turn. I turned the television off when the hospital was bombed and took a seat at my desk.

When I thought of a better world, I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that the capitol would simply cede power to those that asked. As I hunched forward across my desk and looked at the photos of my family – the reunions, the faces of the ones we’d lost, even Elias – I couldn’t help but feel my blood start to boil.

We’d need the best to respond to this to prepare for all that might come.

I’d sent for Emma first, and we busied ourselves over who we needed to assemble, and how we could delegate to the those in the district that would commit in a time of emergency. People to ready the hospitals for a copycat or worse. Someone to manage food distribution. Others to keep an eye on the streets. Still others to make sure that law and order didn’t break down.

When the order came to lockdown the district a few minutes after midnight, I’d just set another pot of coffee to brew.

Emma had set-up a whiteboard in the little conference room and I’d put out some brownies and the coffee for those that’d come.

“OK mis compañeros. I’ve called you all here because District Eleven will need its best working together to see us through whatever is coming,” I started, the small wood paneled box television on a cart behind me playing the scenes from six and eight for the council. “I shouldn't need to tell you what it feels like to see this sort of destruction. Or knowing that we have to prepare for what may come here. The capitol has decided to have us locked down and the power will be reduced."

Something was building up around us. Something big.

"There comes a time when we let what's happen define us, or we define it for ourselves. You know the district will need us. And I need you.”

Despite what the capitol may have tried to teach us, no one would get through this alone.

“Shall we begin?”

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

KILLIAN

Killian had not been in the District Center when the world shifted. He wasn't at the community home, or the underground bar, or any of his usual haunts. It took time - too much damn time - for Courtney Persimmon to find him, ghosting the train station.

"You know how many miles I've biked today? Fuck's sake, K. What are you doing, ghosting the station?"

"Counting the Keepers," he'd said thickly beneath the dark hood of his jacket.

"Well, you're wanted. Lucky you." She'd thrown some verbal details at him like tiny bombs and then stalked off. He didn't take it personally; he knew she would not be invited. he stayed in the shadow of a pillar, counting, watching, waiting. At some point, long after dark, the station finally deserted, he stretched and coughed, his body taught with impersonating a statue.

It felt good to walk, even though he considered the possibility he was walking right into a trap.

"There comes a time when we let what's happen define us, or we define it for ourselves. You know the district will need us. And I need you. Shall we begin?"

"No time to waste," Killian murmured. He'd slung his jacket over the back of a chair, and then set his fingers to the leather. He was kneeding it, standing behind the chair, his gaze far away. "They're reinforced their Keeper squadron here. I estimate maybe a thirty percent increase. That's hardly enough to keep all the citizens of District Eleven in their homes, but it sure as hell is enough to intimidate us."

He glanced around the table, feeling every one of his years. "I don't imagine they're planning to just scare us into submission. Do you?"

[charade]

The news rocked Katelyn to her core. Explosions in two districts, and the Capitol was blaming it on rebels? She highly doubted that. Not when they were locking down eleven and instituting power rationing. A decade ago, she would have been full of fire and fury. She would have railed against the measures the Capitol was implementing and demanded to be on the front lines on this thing.

Now, now she was tired. Tired and worried. She knew just how long the reach of the Capitol was, knew how they got their claws in a person and how they tore. She was worried about being in this meeting; as far as she was concerned, she was a liability. The Capitol had done everything it could to break her, and broke she had. It had taken the better part of the last four years to put herself back together.

But, despite her misgivings, as Eleven’s senior victor and one of Vasco’s friends, how could she refuse to come? Eleven was her home. These were her people.

He'd asked. She would deliver.

Vasco took charge, saying that preparation was needed. Without comms and power, there were going to be a lot of people in need very shortly. Katelyn grimaced, her heart aching to hear Opal’s voice, something that was beyond her reach for the foreseeable future. The mayor went on to say that he needed everyone in the room to play their part. That this would be a defining moment for all of them. Killian blew into the room, another phantom of her youth, and Katelyn gave him a small nod of acknowledgment when he glanced her way.

“I don’t imagine they’re just planning to just scare us into submission, do you?”

No, she thought. They had ways of getting what they wanted.

She thought about how she could help from the wings, turning over the cessation of transportation in her head along with what methods were available to her. As the largest food-producing district, they didn’t need to transport much food into the district beyond meat, dairy and fish that they received from Ten and Four. There was no talk of rationing yet, but her gut said that that was next. She’d had to ration in the arena. A single tin of tuna had lasted her four days if she remembered right. It wasn’t something she liked to dwell on.

“Everything my bakery is stocked with can be doled out to those in need. I’m sure my employees would have no qualms about keeping the loaves coming,” She’d have to head down to Persimmon Pies immediately after this and let them know what was happening. “I’d suggest talking to all the grocers, restaurateurs and anyone who sells at the farmer’s market about getting supply packages out. If they are mobilizing that many peacekeepers, as well as shutting down transportation, it won’t be long before they start appropriating people’s food stock for military rations.”

That was all she had to add, and if the meeting turned to talk of fighting back or protest demonstrations, then she would have to excuse herself early. The less she knew about that sort of the thing, the better.

^{[ DARS ]}

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Vasco Izar

There would be a struggle for power, both the literal and metaphorical, as the district shifted into lockdown. No one in this room could have any doubt what sort of measures the capitol would try to put in place to make sure the district held fast to order. For a half-second I was glad Sampson had ducked out of town long ago. We didn’t need hot heads putting other folks at risk, not while we waited to see what was truly going on.

“You’re right, Killian.” I watched his fingers tighten around the leather of his jacket. He didn’t strike me as the nervous type, and I wondered if he’d heard something I hadn’t. Good thing he was with us, then.

I uncorked a marker and started drafting on the dry erase board. As I scrawled out letters, I prayed they could read the chicken scratch. “We’ll need someone to monitor the keepers to make sure they don’t take advantage of us, just as much as we need to make sure that people aren’t picking fights right now. Maybe we could set-up someone as the designated person they could report things to, if we need to dispatch someone to keep order, or they feel like they need to report something that isn’t right. Eh Killian?”

Four years on, and I’d done my best to get to know the names of some of the keepers. Tried to win them over with kindness, to understand who they were, where they’d come from. And maybe it’d all be moot – maybe they’d never taken me seriously – but I had to hope that no matter the differences, we all wanted to be able to go home each night without a fuss. That their job wasn’t going to be any easier, not now, if they stirred up the worst in people. Just as we had to protect the most vulnerable from their abuses.

“I can get out a radio address this morning. Maybe get out in front of folks getting ready for work. And another one a bit before curfew.” At times like these, we needed to offer a voice that would assure people of their safety. Someone that would let them know even if we were experiencing something strange, we were in this, together. And we had not forgotten them.

‘I’d suggest talking to all the grocers, restaurateurs and anyone who sells at the farmer’s market about getting supply packages out. If they are mobilizing that many peacekeepers, as well as shutting down transportation, it won’t be long before they start appropriating people’s food stock for military rations.’

It felt distinctly eleven-ish when Katelyn offered up stores from her bakery without a second thought. Not an offer for us to buy them at cost, or a negotiation of how much she might have. A call to give was answered with ‘how much’, as though she’d been waiting. I practically beamed while I wrote across the board.

“Gracias, Katelyn. Yes – let’s get someone on organizing the food pantries and their supplies. Beans, rice, bread, oatmeal, things that can feed a lot with a little. Tell the grocers and folks that we’ll make it worth their while, this is an emergency.” No one would go without on my watch, even if it meant delivering meals myself.

“Would someone be willing to ready the hospitals in case we need them?” It felt as though I was tempting fate asking, but if experience had taught me anything, it was to be ready.