A/N:This was written for the Starvation Monthly Challenge, #3 on the forums. Be sure to check it out, lots of games, competitions, discussions, fun and over all craziness :D
This month's CHallenge "Perfection"
Remember a quick review is alway nice :D
I am not SuCO
The gun pointed straight at me, his steely gray eyes full of anger held tightly in check easily found his mark on my chest. The bullet flew at me like time slowed down, the pain of my body being torn inside was I felt as I hit the floor slumped against the ground, just feet from the alarm button. Someone barked at the rebels to fall back as they retrieved the prisoners from our cells. The steely eyed soldier took the gun that fell at my feet and began to retreat and check every door way he passed along our corridor to make sure no one pursued them.
I wanted to see a barbaric rebel, dressed in rags, and full of unnecessary rage. I wanted to see some childish fool with fake hope. But no matter how hard I tried I couldn't. All I saw was a perfect soldier. All I could see was myself.
Like me, that young man had a goal in his life, a reason for everything he did. He worked endlessly for it and pushed himself beyond the breaking point more than once for everything he loved. That steely glint, though, it showed me that, also like me, when it was time for his reward, the one he longed for it was ripped away. Yes, he was a perfect soldier, just like me.
I remember when my life wasn't spilling out of my chest, I was so young when I was chosen to become the perfect tribute candidate for my District. I was sent to the camp and trained every day, wanting perfection. I would not stop until every one of my motions were perfect. I controlled my temper so that I could be rational in the worst of times. I cleaned every stitch of clothing I had in practice for when I would need to look perfectly presentable. Because in the end, that's what I would be: Perfect.
I wasn't chosen as the tribute though, I was sent away early to work. They said I was too perfect to waste in an arena. I was to be a Captain of the Peacekeepers at the age of eighteen, and a different boy was chosen to represent my district. While he wore the crown of a Victor, I was sent to District 7 to oversee the mill workers, they had weapons in their hands every day, it was a dangerous place for a Peacekeeper, but it was my duty and I followed my duty because I was a perfect soldier.
Even now, I was given leave to rest, go back to my home and check on my family. I chose not. I chose to stay in the Capitol and check on the Peacekeepers who guarded the prisoners. I was a Captain for five years now, I knew that they would laze about unless a figure of authority was nearby. I was right, I'm almost always am.
Those rebels broke through somehow unnoticed; I knew the guards wouldn't stand a chance alone, so I ran to the alarm, that's when he confronted me. he didn't try to stop me. He just shot. Like a perfect soldier. Now here I am, my perfect white uniform covered in my blood as I strain to hit the alarm button, but I am no longer a perfect soldier, I am a dying soldier, and all I can do a graze the wall beneath the button with my bloody fingertips.
Just like me, that gray eyes man was angry, honed in on a goal, and ready to give up everything for what he believed in; a perfect soldier. But unlike me, he lives to see another because he did not make the mistake of being too slow. I deserve to die for my imperfection, just like he deserves to live for his perfection.