"You know what?" Reggin spoke suddenly, casual like, "I think I'm going to volunteer today."
Talus ignored him, her legs sprawled out on the rickety platform that shook and quivered with the wind and the vibrations of the train tracks. It was an old structure, unused except for the odd straggler here and there, not many people came this far out. Why would they, there was nothing to see here after all.
The others though, they were interested in what he had to say, despite the fact that it was nothing new. It was the odds that stood against him that intrigued them, the miniscule chance that he would actually volunteer, that he had a chance to win.
Reg was leaning back on his elbows below the platform, and she could just about make out the wild tufts of dull brown hair that stuck every which way. He was a hopeless sort usually, but with his deep rooted cynicism came the odd spur of nonsense, such came about every reaping like clockwork, but he had yet to act on this pipe dream of his as of yet. Talus was a gambler, and she could say wholeheartedly that she wouldn't put a dime on Reg, he was too soft hearted in the long run.
"I mean, I could do it, you know." He went on, "What is it that those upper District pricks call it? Bringing pride to their district. I could do that."
At this point, stemming from solid evidence compiled over the years, Talus had come to the conclusion that Reg was an idiot. A real dimlow. Because what other reason would he have to talk such pure and utter shite if not for lack of a brain?
"Those career pricks are the Capitol pets." Eligius stated, pausing as the bottle was halfway suspended to his mouth, always ready to perpetuate the ingrown hatred of the lower districts towards the better off, the kind that was harbored from an early age. It was a healthy sort of radicalism, with a streak of rebelliousness for appeal. "The pricks." He added on half heartedly, as if to clarify his point further, before finally taking a swig of his beer. It was a compelling argument, truly.
Axel chuckled quietly at that, somewhere to Talus' left, but the smallest shaking of his chest was enough to make the rafters sway along with him.
No one spoke after that, because what was there to say? Sure, they could talk in circles about how unfair it was, could conjure up a weak voice that spoke of unrest and impending revolution, but they'd heard that spiel a thousand times before. They were just waiting for the freight train, half cut from indulging in cheap booze and copious amounts of rotgut liquor, smoking their cigarettes in a familiar and amicable silence.
"Look at this view." She could imagine Reg motioning vaguely to the endless rolls of fields and hill tops ahead. "Doesn't it make you proud- Proud to be from Six? Those capitol pricks and upper district pigs don't get this view. Us Micks, we're the only ones who get to see this."
District Six consisted of interconnected hubs via transportation, largely industrialised and severely overpopulated. The Justice Building and the town square were situated smack bang in the middle, that's where the Reaping was held, it was the only place big enough to hold such a mass. Up North you had the Rail Yards and Cargo holds, East was where the offices were situated and where people collected their pay slips. Middle ground was where the market place was, dotted around the Justice Building and public domain, the rich and the merchants lived their lives there along with the Mayor, the rest of the population were simply tourists. South was split between wasteland and a few well-off neighbourhoods, where Talus and her friends currently were, for lack of a better word, stranded. The fields weren't used for anything, and it had become some sort of ritual to wander there the day before the Reaping. And West was where the Micks were situated, the most impoverished of the lot.
The West consisted of scrap yards and heath's, the local business' were solely illegal havens and an array of pubs, a few black markets here and there on a small scale. There was a small tobacco company situated near an illegal race track where the Mick's held the drag races, they kept their unlicensed homemade motor cars in an abandoned Cargo hold down South. The people of District Six referred to it's inhabitants as Micks, a derogatory term they had adopted and rebranded.
"Up the West and fuck the rest!" Eli let out a peal of laughter and sent his empty bottle flying. He was stood atop a large rock, a boy on the brink of manhood with an impressive stature, standing tall and lean as the sun warmed his face. It was a common mantra upon the Micks, one that Talus had grown to hate overtime. They all took the time to watch the bottle soar before it inevitably came back down, and she admired the throw all the same.
"It's shit being a Mick. Even shitter living in the districts, Capitol pets or not." Talus spoke around her cigarette, letting out plumes of smoke as she looked on with hardened eyes. "Some people hate those Capitol pricks, well I don't. They're all just a sorry shower of bastards, but we're the damn cads underneath their thumb."
She took an especially long drag, Axel's nimble fingers prying the stick away from her lips. His red hair was all that she could see in her peripheral vision, and he rested his freckled cheek against her own, chin jutting out over her shoulder as he breathed out smoke. Personal space was a myth as far as he was concerned.
"We're the scrape of the barrel, boys, and that's what it means to be a Mick. No view, no matter how grand it may be, will change that." Her gaze dropped to the boy below, wide eyes peering up at her in between crooked floor boards."So no, Reg, I'm not proud to be a Mick, and all the fucking fresh air in the world won't change my mind."
With that she took back her cigarette, and everyone went back to staring into the nothingness of the supposed pride of district six. All was silent once more, the freight train was getting closer and Talus threw her cigarette to the wind. She hoped those bloody fields burned for all the good it had done them.
Pushing Axel's body away from her own she got back on her feet, engineer boots absorbing the rattle of the oncoming train as if the world was being pulled from beneath her feet, but she stood steady all the same. It was all about timing when it came to freighthopping, that and sure footing.
Talus was the first to take the dive, swinging open the cart and heaving herself inside in one swift, concise movement.
"She's got a point, you know." Axel piped up, flashing an impish grin before he pulled himself into the cart.
Eli took long strides, climbing up the decking of the platform at ease, calculating which move would less likely get him killed. Riding suicide wasn't an option, not today, not with alcohol in his bloodstream and a lazy heat that left him so slow. He saw his opportunity, and he was ready to take it, not taking any notice as Reg tried to scramble his way to the platform.
"She's got a real way with words, dontcha think?" Eli said to no one in particular, swinging into the freight car with a strange grace for a lanky lad of that sheer size, but at that point Reg was the only one left to hear.
He stood there dumbly, it never occurred to him that he could miss the train if he didn't get a move on.
"I think that's the most I've ever heard her talk." He announced to thin air.