the network

Phone call.
[ This message comes first. Hurried, and there's the sound of rapid typing while Roman speaks. ]

If anyone is still stuck out there and hears this, sound off. Many of us are holing up in the hospital for the time being and the more people we get here, the better defended we can make it to cover those who can't fight. Anyone listening to this who can get around, please try to go grab anyone else who's trapped or stuck.

Network UN: HOSPITAL LOBBY CPU 4.
Gather at the hospital if at all possible. Please post a location if you're stuck or in need of assistance. Those of us who can fight and move around will do our best to reach you.

If you know anyone else who can't reach communication but needs help, mention them too.
-Roman Fletcher

[ So Mary is seven. And while she's smart, she doesn't quite realize this network is private. Or that a message board is... a message board. Sorry network.]

Frank. Look what I made. Can I put it on the fridge?

❰ the revolution's begun.

katniss couldn't possibly have started it. she mentioned the word, sure, but the sheriff seemed perfectly pleased with her earnest contrition — a benefit of learning to pretend to be sweet on penalty of death — and honestly, this seems like it's been building since long before she arrived.

she's safe. peeta, too. she should be satisfied with that. instead, she feels like she's crawling out of her skin.

like she has to do something.

it's barely less than ten minutes before something finally gives. she's on the voice network, tone clipped, with a little too much breath. like she's been on the move, and this is only a brief few-second interval before she's on the move again. ❱


There's a way out. I've found it. Don't try to follow.


❰ and that's it. she'll be giving no replies, but replies can talk to each other here. this, like the others, is gone within 5 minutes of going up, though not quite as quickly as steve & poe's or laura's.

spoilers: katniss has no idea how to get out. what she does know how to do is shoot, and over the next few minutes she hauls ass for the western woods and the fence beyond it. her tracker's long since been sliced out of her leg, and she's got it and peeta's own tracker taped to two separate arrows in the quiver on her back. she plans to get as close to the fence as she can and then shoot them over, lazy arcing shots that (to an overtaxed peacekeeper policeman) would seem terrifyingly like a successful escape.

this isn't a system she knows how to fight — the least she can do is take some of the heat off of the people that do. ❱

TOWN HALL IS LISTENING( under cut! )