Not enough Beetee fics out there.
And then (somehow) this happened.
Look at me, barely using the prompt.
oh yeah, I forgot to mention, it's for the dictionary challenge in the Hunger Games Contests and Character chat or something like that's dictionary challenge.
prompt; against
word count: 724
My father was an ordinary man.
Sure, he was smart.
But everyone, no matter how average, excels in something.
He was not brave. He was not a visionary. He simply taught physics to a class of university students who could, quite honestly, care less
Now, I loved my father.
So, maybe, he was not brave, he was not revolutionary, but he was a good man.
I have yet to understand why he died.
It was under the pretense of treason.
Treason! My father!
Impossible.
And there are impossibilities.
And the sky is not the limit.
My father did not teach me a great many things.
I tried to listen –no really, I tried—but I can't really remember much of anything of what he taught me, he being a man who thought that telling me laws of physics created by people of the Old era were good bedtime story material.
I can tell you it was not.
But I remember one thing he taught me.
It was before he died.
The last thing I heard him say.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
A man stands tall near the Justice Building.
For every action
He is shoved to the ground, glasses shattering and falling to the ground.
There is an equal
The man lifts his head, silently refusing to bow.
And opposite
A gun is raised to his head.
Reaction
There is a bang and there is metal and there is a dead body on the ground.
Since then, I have realized there are more silent ways of protest.
I started to observe the people around me for signs of rebellion.
I mean, if I had missed that my own father, a normal, average man, had been treasonous, then I was obviously doing something wrong.
After all, if the people of the Capitol are going to push and prod and shove against us, then there will be a time when we will retaliate.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, right?
So I watched for signs of unrest and I went to school, and then I watched some more.
Because I, like my father, am not brave. I am not selfless. I am not passionate and willing to give my life. I'm not a hero.
So I did nothing.
The Capitol did not do the same.
They continued the games, they continued the killings, they continued massacring children.
When I was reaped, I was not that shocked. After all, I was in for a fair amount of tesserae and District 3 is not all that big.
And I am nothing if not realistic.
So, I went into the arena with a 1:24 chance of getting out, and I did. How unlikely.
Almost impossible.
I guess I just didn't want to die.
When I got back to three, I went back to my routine of watching and waiting, except I did it from a bigger house.
Life (almost) went back to normal.
So I still watched and waited for the Capitol to push too far, and the districts to rebel and fight.
I mean, there has to be a point when the districts are tired of being pushed against a wall.
There must be a time when they realize who the enemy is.
And then came Katniss.
She was the hope for the rebellion.
The girl had spunk and fire and passion, but she was not a hero. She was not selfless. She was not brave.
She couldn't whip subdued people into a frenzy just by speaking.
She was action and flames and indecisiveness.
The rebellion was all but dead.
It seemed as if I underestimated the girl.
Katniss, I mean.
She was able to fan the flames.
And now we have a full on rebellion and people dying, and me stuck in a room with explosives and a talking bow.
Looks as if the people are finally working against the Capitol.
Effectively, maybe not, but the districts have nothing but time to give their equal and opposite reaction.
It has been two years.
Two years since we won.
Two years since we got tired of being oppressed, tired of being leaned on.
Two years since I bombed innocent children.
And I am still not brave.
I am still not selfless.
I am still not a hero.
But then again, is anybody?
