Sherlock giggles and chases after her with hugs.

Hugs are entirely welcome! Sherlock can join her in her air-dancing. "We," she says, very seriously, "are going to take over the world."

"I love you too!" Bell grins. She's got a chain of starter coins making jangling noises audible only to her around her waist; she's got an array of glorious superpowers; and now she has to decide how to take over the world. "Hmmm. Went from having not enough resources to form a proper plan to having so many that I can play this any way I want. Not all that much easier, I gotta say."

"Finding Atlantis if it exists is definitely on the to-do list," Bell agrees. "There could easily be some functional government across the ocean better equipped to absorb Panem's population than anything we make de novo will be. Then again, Atlantis could exist and turn out to be just as bad. I'd like a plan for handling Panem if there is no Atlantis, and then if there is a bad Atlantis, we won't be caught giving ourselves away in one without any strategy we can adapt for a bad Atlantis too."

"We could install your counterpart's anti-violence measures directly over the planet," she says. "Or better ones. And then start solving problems and deal with resistance as it occurs. Whatever we do, it would be best to do it fast, while the Capitol is still headless."

"We could," Bell says. "I don't think the ones she has for Mars will work exactly as she 'worded' the wishes. It's designed to coexist with some others of the 'ground rules'. She has enough of them buzzing around to render a police force completely unnecessary in the first place, and I'm not sure how the Peacekeepers will take being rendered unnecessary. Speaking of Peacekeepers," she says, looking up suddenly, "I don't think I have any excuse not to tell my parents that I'm alive after all. I can teleport in when they'll both be home and have a brief conversation and make sure they're safe and fed and then teleport back."

"All right."

[A handy talent,] she says, kissing back.

[I'm sorry,] she says, although she's not sure that's the right thing.

[When you return,] says Sherlock, [I believe I will give you a hug.]

Hugs. Definitely hugs.

"Okay," says Shell Bell, after there have been a satisfying number of hugs for the time being. "I think what I want is an accurate globe of the earth with - population indicators and marked capital cities and so on. That's a magical object, so - pentagon, I suppose. ...I have a fair few for now but let me know if and when you feel like making more?"

"Happily," she says.

"Thirteen," says Sherlock. "Interesting."

"Should we go and investigate, do you think?"

"I think that would be prudent of us. Do you suppose Tony will want to come?"

"I think he will be fine with being brought along later."

"All right then. I think we probably ought to land invisible. Who knows what they have going on there."

"Agreed," says Sherlock. She provides herself the appropriate power, appropriately mutually perceptible with Bell's, and invisibles.

[That is not a person who looks pleased with life,] says Sherlock. [Then again, I can see why not.]

[Yeah. Opinions on spying on her for a while versus introducing ourselves?]

[Spying first.]

[I am considering dropping a wagonload of cornucopias on their heads,] says Sherlock. [If I can duplicate them. I suppose I should check.]

[Oh, I bet we can,] agrees Bell. [They seem... well, as decent as one could expect anyone living in Panem's shadow could reasonably be expected to be. But not so nice that I can be sure of what they'll do if that shadow changes.]

[Well. Perhaps we'll just see what happens when we make our move on the Capitol, whatever it is. Maybe wagonloads of cornucopias for everyone would be a good start,] she suggests.

[I am considering implementing a variant on Stella's Martian ground rules, and then picking up the entire Capitol, putting it on the Moon, and coming up with a procedure to put its inhabitants on trial,] Bell says.

[That does sound fun.]

[Yes. Of course then I have to decide what to do with the guilty of various sorts, and what to do with their dependents when they have any, and, for that matter, what to do with the innocent, and what to do with the Peacekeepers who are mostly from Districts and not the Capitol itself, and so on. Very complicated.]

[Keep the guilty on the moon,] she suggests. [In comfort but not luxury. Let everyone else come back.]

[I'll probably wind up on something that has that as part of the scheme, but - I don't know. Snow had kids. He had a granddaughter, his kids were all grown and I didn't consider it relevant for him in particular, but I'm sure there are rotten people with small children and I'm torn about them.]

[What are your proposed solutions?]

[I'm working on that. If I had a good one I would've just triumphantly explained it,] Bell sighs. She leans on Sherlock and watches a family of District Thirteeners go down the hall past Coin's office.

[If you have a bad one, perhaps I can improve it.]

[Well. If the guilty go on a lunar prison colony and not into outright lockup, I could give kids old enough to express a preference a choice of staying there with their families or coming down and going into some kind of - facility, ideally designed to get the kids adopted. That hardly seems like a less nasty thing to do to an - eight-year-old or whatever than just sending them straight to the facility without consulting them, though. Sometimes giving a choice isn't helping.]

[I see what you mean,] she muses.

[I probably would've had a more comfortable childhood if I'd passed some tests and gotten moved to a district that had more use for brains, like yours, but I wasn't going to let anyone take me from my parents, not when I was little and I needed them.]

[Remove the children that want to go or are being mistreated; leave the rest,] Sherlock says after a moment. [Include in the ground rules of the Moon that no children can be conceived there, to limit the problem. Allow the children to come back at any time and deal with them individually if they begin making trouble.]

[Mm. I'm probably not going to do any better than that. And then I design a facility - and I have to staff it, too, I can make the facility operate itself with respect to basic needs but kids need to be around people. I wonder if Thirteen's a potentially good source of personnel who grew up not so cowed by the Games and with adequate educations? I mean, obviously the other twelve Districts can produce smart and decent people, but it might be easier to find them here.]

[I am not sure 'uncowed' is the first description that comes to mind,] says Sherlock.

[Well. Anticipating war if something goes wrong is a different state than anticipating squashing if you annoy the wrong person. Thirteen used to do nukes, didn't it? The Capitol's probably at least as afraid of them as they are of it.]

[I do see what you mean,] she muses.

[I want to find their school and see what it's like,] Bell decides, and she starts reading passerby forearms to seek someone who's headed in that direction. It's almost like they're trying to be convenient for invisible spies.

Laughing silently, Sherlock follows as soon as Bell finds one.

The school appears to operate in shifts - they're underground, and people can sleep as well during the day as they can at night, so it's most efficient that way. They get to the school just as First Shift is taking over from Third Shift, and watch the history teacher they followed setting up for the day and greeting her students. The lesson is spare, factual, and delivered to relatively attentive children.

[The place is a match for its president,] Sherlock comments. [Very unfrivolous.]

[Very. I wonder what they'll do in sudden excess. I think my hometown would throw a party. I'm not sure these people know what a party is.]

[I am really very tempted to wish each and every one of them a cornucopia and an instruction packet, just to see what happens.]

[I don't think they're underfed - just - careful. But let's have a look at the dining hall.] It's easy to find someone on their way to the dining hall after they leave the school. Everyone lines up and gets a reasonable portion of food for their size. [Yeah. I mean, if something happened to their supply they'd be in trouble, but I don't think cornucopias are the key to sweeping cultural change, especially not since we know they take refugees when refugees get this far.]

[They lack abundance.]

[They do. Let's go have another look at Coin.]

[All right.]

[Do,] Sherlock says merrily. [Leave me in reserve.]

[Hardly fair,] says Sherlock, invisi-grinning.

[Have we anything flashier to demonstrate with?] she wonders. [I'm not sure what would make the best impression.]

[Well. This should be interesting,] Sherlock brain-murmurs.

Sherlock loves her girlfriend.

[Shall I find out about the nukes?]

[They have nukes,] Sherlock reports. [Shall I do something about them?]

[You are very attractive to me right now,] Sherlock observes.

[One cornucopia might make a nice goodwill present, at the appropriate moment,] she muses. [It represents abundance.]

Sherlock nearly bounces with glee.

Sherlock loves her. Oh, how Sherlock loves her.

She wraps her arms around Bell and kisses back with pure delight.

[I love you. I love you I love you I love you we're going to take over the world,] Bell sings silently.

[I love you too,] she says, hugging Bell closer. [Shall we replenish our supply of coins while we're at it?]

Bell stills in Sherlock's arms. [Still not used to that,] she admits. [But - yeah, I should - get accustomed to it. Um, bedroom - mine? yours?]

[Mine?] she suggests, kissing Bell's cheek. [I like making coins. I will endeavour to show you how much.]

[Slowly,] she decides. [Squares are a good place to start.]

Squares can be as small as ten triangles. When they're both sitting on Sherlock's bed, Bell bites her lip, and turns on the agony beam at that level. [..."Flavor"... preferences?] she asks dubiously, peering at the read.

There's a dozen kinds of sharp. Why Stella's Alice felt the need to solicit such variety is beyond her. Bell picks glass-sharp, as the first thing to come to mind.

Bell kisses back. The agony beam doesn't need attention to maintain, and Sherlock will tell her when she wants it kicked up. (Presumably.)

Soon enough: [More, please.]

[How much more?]

[Another ten?]

Bell doubles it, and snuggles up to Sherlock, and watches the read.

And up Bell goes, as asked, focusing very hard on that affect-white and not on the fact that it's surrounding a lightning bolt.

"That's lovely," she sighs, and kisses Bell again.

"Good. Should I just - keep going up ten at a time occasionally - or wait for you to say?"

"Keep going. I'll tell you when to stop." Like pouring a cup of tea, she thinks, and giggles.

Hmm. Out of clothes. Bell saw that. She fumbles for the nearest button, not really looking, and starts skipping up a liiiittle faster.

Up-up-up. At increments of ten they'll be in pentagons for a while.

Pentagons and warm snuggly kisses. Lovely.

Bell stops pushing upwards, and leaves it where it is, and watches the whiteness and presses into the snuggle.

She wraps her arms around Bell and kisses her, slow and sweet.

Mmm, kisses. Bell can almost forget about what must be staggering amounts of pain if she tries.