For Sherlock of some flavor or another

[tofightinjustice]

There's a heavy bag hung up on one of the trees at the edge of the Milliways forest. It's a little off the beaten path, which is nice, and Bryce finds that working in the cool not-Scottish air is a lot less dehydrating than working in the California sun.

For her size (she's middling tall but not very bulky), she's giving the bag a fairly thorough beating.

Comments

[sicaria]

She glances to the side.

In measured tones: "I suppose it is, yes."

[tofightinjustice]

Bryce blinks.

"Do you do that?"

[sicaria]

"I killed twenty people on national television when I was seventeen," she says evenly.

[tofightinjustice]

Bryce . . . doesn't really have a response for that.

[sicaria]

"They're called the Hunger Games. Twenty-four teenagers, chosen initially by random selection and then replaced by volunteers if any, are taken to a remote location with minimal supplies and left there until only one of them is still alive. Every year. We count our calendar by it."

[tofightinjustice]

"Why?"

[sicaria]

"To remind us of the price of rebellion," she murmurs.

[tofightinjustice]

"And they televise it."

[sicaria]

"Yes. In detail."

[tofightinjustice]

She swallows, because otherwise she'll be too nauseated to talk.

"How can they enforce that? Don't people try to get away?"

(She remembers a short story they had to read in English class last year, about a village and a black spot and a woman screaming It isn't fair and the matter-of-fact way the other villagers stoned her to death. She remembers sitting there feeling cold as her classmates talked casually about death happening at random and man's inhumanity to man.)

[sicaria]

"The tributes? Rarely. First because it's supposedly an honour, second because they are watched at nearly all times between being chosen and being sent out. The rest of the country, yes, once in a while. They get caught. Nothing pleasant happens to them."

[tofightinjustice]

"God."

[sicaria]

"A fascinating concept. We don't have one."

[tofightinjustice]

"You mean you don't worship one."

She's pretty sure there is no God in her world, either, but that doesn't stop most of America from worshiping something.

[sicaria]

"I mean we don't have the concept," Sherlock clarifies.

[tofightinjustice]

"I'm not surprised."

[sicaria]

She snorts.

"Yes."

[tofightinjustice]

"You were the last person alive in the Games. You won."

[sicaria]

"Yes," she agrees.

[tofightinjustice]

"Why would you still be worrying about assassination?"

[sicaria]

"Because I annoyed the president of Panem a few too many times."

[tofightinjustice]

"Before or after you won?"

Putting someone into a deathmatch would be a good way of getting rid of an annoyance.

[sicaria]

"After."

[tofightinjustice]

She nods.

"You think they could follow you here?"

[sicaria]

"Unlikely. And someone from home would stand out to me here if they did."