Barley Simmons sat at the brown table chewing on a ruby apple. At the moment, she was calm. The Games had ended mercifully faster than she expected, and her mentorship had proven to be a success. Of course, most credit did have to go to Aslovee. He was probably one of the better tributes to ever come out of District Nine.
The District, despite its wheat reputation, was mostly urban with the exception of the spacious yellow fields swaying in the golden sunlight. The buildings and shops flustered together in a hodgepodge of businesses and homes. As one of the poorer Districts, it was no surprise that the wealthy lived out in the country by those fields. It was a cruel joke that the workers had to look out of the factory windows and see the obnoxious estates and manors hugging the horizon.
Barley would have the pleasure of bringing back a Victor, and along with that came the special prizes and events the Capitol gave to the winning District. She expected that it would still be a tradition, considering that District Nine did not have a very large presence in the failed Rebellion.
A young man in his mid twenties with short brown hair and grey-blue eyes bit his fingernails in the black chair in front of him. He wore a green suit blazer with black pants. He seemed timid at best, but Barley's assistant did send him in for a conversation. While Aslovee was in the shower, he said that he needed to speak with her about the impending Victory Tour schedule.
"For quick introduction, I'm Russell Whitman. I'm assuming you're the mentor in question."
Barley nodded. "Yes I am."
"Where's Aslovee?"
"He's been in the shower for about an hour now. The guy is a real clean freak. You wouldn't think it. But we all have our quirks."
"You'd be surprised with the people I deal with. I'm a psychologist."
"A doctor? Or counselor? You're like twenty one."
"I'm interning at a counselor place. And I'm twenty."
"Where do you work?"
"I can't discuss that right now. I think there's one very important thing that I need to tell you. Now, nobody else knows this yet. We want to keep it secret until after the Tour is over."
"What? Did the President die or something?"
He coughed ferociously. After recovering, he stammered. "How did you know about that?"
Barley stared at the young man. "I was kidding."
He sighed. "We don't want it to overshadow the Tour. This is an important one. We need this to get back on track."
"On track of what?"
"Just on track."
Barley rolled her eyes. "So do we need to shake hands with some celebrity or something. Somebody has an affair with someone? What are you looking for? And who are you to come in here and demand this of me?"
"I've been assigned to help Aslovee. You see, the disturbing trend of clinically insane Victor's has always been apparent. The people at the government offices thought it was time to change that."
"What government offices?"
"Oh...just over at the government building. We picked straws and mine was the shortest." He said with a nervous chuckle.
Barley was growing suspicious. For all she knew, he was some paparazzi man looking for some extra money. Or he was some sort of Capitol man trying to dig for any trouble.
"I think you should go. We have to get ready for the interviews."
Russell pulled out a beige crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. "Let me just give you the itinerary."
Barley took it. The schedule for the next two weeks were emblazoned in black ink on the paper.
"I'll be joining in around the end. I believe that's when my first session with Aslovee is. Can't have him going crazy on us. This is a crucial time for our nation."
"You a politician or something? Why do you care?"
Russell said his goodbye and rushed out of the room.
Barley was growing nervous. This weird kid was up to something. He wasn't just working for the Capitol. There had to be a catch. She didn't remember being told about a psychologist when she got the mentor packet in the mail.
She saw some ink deep through the front of the paper. She turned it to the back.
She almost dropped the paper.
"The night before District Nine, there will be a vaccine in the train first aid kit. Inject it in his arm, then tell me. You find out the rest later."
Barley nodded to herself them ripped up the paper.
Aslovee Chesed
I've never scrubbed myself with soap harder in my entire life.
When I left the arena, I was out under for a quick operation, erasing any marks or abrasions from the Games. When I came to, he was in a Capitol hospital. I was released into Barley's care. The moment I got in, he made a beeline for the shower despite Barley's insistence that I was clean.
I only felt right when I did the job.
I've always felt better under the running shower. It felt so good underneath those hot drops of water. The steam around my face was like one of those masks they have at those spas I saw in a magazine.
I'm not sure if I feel happy about winning. It doesn't seem as special as people said it would be. I survived. I've done that every single day. Why should that last week have been any more different.
Then again, weird alien illusions and horny as fuck teenagers weren't normally in my way. I should be thankful. What about those others? It's weird, but I don't think I tried to kill any of those people out of anger or revenge like that one guy at the end. I think I did a lot of that stuff out of...pity? I don't know. I didn't want others to have to deal with one of that shot that went down like Edan.
All of those kills were just to take them out of their misery. Or they were trying to kill me. I'm not trying to justify that shit, but I did what had to be done.
I almost didn't want to leave that shower, but I figured enough clean linen scented soap would do for one lifetime. I got out and saw a crisp, black and grey pinstripe suit resting on my bed.
I forgot about those fucking interviews with that pussy Caesar. Mentor lady told me to be nice, which I wouldn't be if I didn't have every Peacekeeper's gun pointed at me. It'll probably be that way for the rest of my life so I don't start something.
Whatever. I'm gonna be in a real house for once. I gotta love that.
Caesar Flickerman adjusted his blue contact lenses with a wrinkles finger. His age was starting to show. Even with all the plastic surgery, layers of filmy makeup, and the smoky screens of the television special effects, the dying skin on his shining face was starting to wither away into layers of crinkling and drying skin.
Despite this, the Capitol crowd still lived him. He figured he had a good three or four years left until he had to give up the microphone anyway.
On the black stage, the lights explode into a barrage of gold and indigo. Upbeat music sprinkled through the large theatre. The crowd buzzed in applause while the cloud of stinging perfume floated above the cool stage.
He let out a heavy laugh and outstretched his arms beside him like he was a bird taking off. "Welcome everybody. It has been an exciting Games as usual. Now, I know we have lost quite a few friends along the way."
The crowd awed.
Caesar put a finger up to hush the audience. "But...it's okay. Because only the very best can make it here tonight. And, ladies and gentleman, we have a young man that has proven to be the best around. Give it up for the Bictor of the Seventy-Sixth Hunger Games, Aslovee Chesed."
The crowd roared and shot to their feet. Aslovee walked out in the black and grey pinstripe suit to the center. He looked uninterested, bored even from the flashing lights and cheering crowd sprinkled before him. He slowed down as he approached Caesar. The announcer reached out to his hand and gave it a firm shake. Aslovee returned the notion. He turned to the curved silver chair which was placed opposite of Caesar.
When he say down, he turned out to the crowd. They in turn sat down.
Caesar smiled. "Glad to plant your feet back on Earth, space man?"
The crowd laughed. Aslovee cleared his throat. "Sure. I felt kind of dizzy, but I'm fine."
"They say your spine stretches out in space. Hitting your head on anything?"
The crowd laughed again, but Aslovee was fuming. His insides felt cold, and a small zap of electricity ran down his spine. He frowned, and his hands tightened into tight fists. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Caesar chuckled. "Oh, come off it, Aslovee. We're all friends here."
"Hmph." Aslovee crossed his arms. "You're funny."
"You are, too. What isn't funny is just how dominating you were in the Games. Am I right, folks?"
The crowd applauded.
"The tribute with the most kills only wins thirty five percent of the time. Feel pretty lucky now, don't you?"
"About as lucky as being in the Games to begin with." He said.
The crowd laughed. Aslovee thought they were being generous. He was never very good with words, and he wanted to get through this interview as son as possible. If anything, dealing with Caesar and his obvious public facade was making him more impatient. He told himself to breathe. He made it this far; he could stomach a few more moments.
"We learned so little about you when we first met. When the final eight interviews happened, we weren't able to speak to your parents."
Caesar stopped. Aslovee was caught a little of guard at the awkward end. He shrugged. "A lot of kids don't have parents."
"Didn't we see them in the Games?"
"No you didn't. Those were just some things they decided to throw at me."
"Do you think that taps into your wish to see them?"
"No. Although if they were to show up, it would be now."
"Of course. You are the Victor. Anybody would want to know you."
For some reason, that last statement made Aslovee mad. Why is Caesar saying the worst things right now? Is he more temperamental because of the Games? The thing that surprised Aslovee the most was the truth in the words. Of course people would finally like him. Now, he was somebody. Not just a nameless face in the poverty-ridden alleyways. He thought it was disturbing and cruel. The moment somebody has something valuable, the whole world wants a piece of him.
"Aslovee? You alive, friend?"
Aslovee ripped his eyes off the small piece of fabric that stuck out on his pant leg. He relaxed his tensed shoulders and adjusted his black hair. "Peachy."
"Speaking of wanting to know you, I'm sure your aware of your popularity with the ladies here."
Shrieks and whistles pierced the cool air into Aslovee's ears. Some teenage girls stood up and hopped in the air or waved; anything to get his attention.
"I'm sure you'll find the perfect girl in that crowd somewhere. You're already on magazine covers, I may add. You're look was very appealing during the Games for many, and that's a rare thing to accomplish."
Aslovee scratched the back of his head. "I wanted to show everyone at home what they were missing."
He wanted to throw up after that, but he knew it was close to finishing.
It worked. A few girls screamed in the audience. Caesar chuckled. "And I'm sure you appeased all of them. In fact, that same thing seemed to have been a motif of the Games. Remember Satine and how she tried to weasel her way out of that situation."
Aslovee nodded. "People do that a lot of times. I've never weaseled out from anything. I'm going to take pain, I'll take it. Pain is a great teacher. The problem was that there are to types of pain. Teaching pain, and pointless pain. The pain that's there for people to suffer, and nothing else. That's what you run away from."
"Wise words. How about some of the other tributes. Romeo came across you towards the end."
"He was a wacko."
Silence settled between the two.
"Is that it?"
Aslovee nodded.
"What about Eva-Marie? The girl at the end."
"Tired. I think she gave up."
More silence.
"That's it?"
He nodded.
"How about Edan?"
"I wouldn't have minded helping her, but she would have only suffered."
"Satine?"
"Ew."
"Sirch? The one you battled with?"
"Didn't know him."
They both stared at each other. Caesar with a nervous glance, and Aslovee with a dark glare.
"So what do you plan on doing when you get home?"
"Take a vacation."
"That's it? No other plans?"
"Nope."
"Thank you very much. We are out of time, folks. But don't worry. Our coverage is still ongoing, and the Victor's ball is later tonight. Watch all of it and catch our new Victor in all his glory: Aslovee Chesed, everybody."
The crowd cheered.
Aslovee darted off.
How did that make you feel? Was the interview good?
What do you want to see next? What do you like or don't like about our victor?
All constructive criticisms or compliments are welcomed and needed.
IMPORTANT NEWS! I will be accepting non-tribute OCs for the Rebellion. They will interact with Aslovee and the new Rebellion forces in an undiscolsed way. Do not worry about their placement or role, I will decide that. However, I will ask for further information on the character on a case-by-case basis! The same Application applies, just take out the Games categories. Again, I will ask for more information if necessary!
I set up a new poll. Please answer it!
Thank you!
