IX. Ignominious
There's intervention, just prevention
My incision will separate you from your pension
I'm takin' you to the abyss
Drag you under, drown you.
Vancouver Easton. 17.
District Twelve Female.
TW: Mention of drugs.
She told Johansson last month that Seren Bakersfield's bad news, but of course, he didn't listen, said something along the lines of, "Well, he'll still bring in profits."
And Vancouver had crossed her arms and scoffed, "You're assuming he's going to pay," because she'd heard what the other merchants at the Hob said about Seren during one of her weekly craft runs, that he's prone to ordering goods then never paying, ridiculous.
Per usual, Vancouver's right.
"What did I tell you?" She stands in the northern Seam entrance of the Silver Mine, her Silver Mine, Johannson by her side as they wait for him to arrive with the money for his… rather large shipment, "About Bakersfield?"
Her bodyguard nods, "Not to trust him."
She really doesn't have time for this sort of bullshit, she does have a business to run after all, a business that doesn't involve waiting around for lying sleazes to pay up when somebody (Verity, this is Verity's fault) decided to send three pounds of cocaine off with him before there was even a dollar in anybody's pockets… Lord, Verity's lucky she's a good friend when she isn't fucking up, and she's just as lucky that she's suffered enough in life that Vancouver torturing her would just be cruel— besides, three pounds of coke is only a few hundred dollars in profit, it's just the principle of the matter; Vancouver doesn't need people thinking they can get off with her product without paying, this is a precedent that mustn't be set.
"It'll be fine," Beckett, her boyfriend, or at least her primary boyfriend (everyone needs their fun from time to time) puts his arm around her in an attempt to calm her down, "Worst case scenario, we find him and we—"
"No," Vancouver refuses, and adamantly so, "You know I don't like doing that."
Beckett chuckles and rolls his eyes, "You don't like it so much you did it four times?"
Well… he does have a point, but really, all the killing's getting exhausting, especially when it's so bloody, and nothing's more embarrassing than having your boyfriend hold your hair back as you puke from seeing the aftermath of a crime you committed yourself. Though really, it's not Vancouver's fault she's so sickened by the sight of blood, it's all… sticky and bubbly and just— no. Vomiting over a scumbag like Seren really isn't worth it, but then again… setting a precedent, and she doesn't need people knowing of her business when they shouldn't be.
"I'm sorry," Beckett continues, his brown eyes reflecting from the rays of sunlight that peak through the cellar door, "I know you don't, I just don't like it when you're stressed."
"I don't like it when I'm stressed either," Vancouver presses the balm of her left foot to the ground and pivots away from the entrance, "I'll be tending to things downstairs if you need me, it's best you stay up here in case he comes."
Doubtful, but hey— it's worth a shot, She holds onto the brass rail as she descends underground once more reaching the forth floor while, admiring the silver and white bricks which line the walls.
"Ms. Easton," She strolls past one of the administrative offices to find Ivy Dunnelly, her secretary peaking out from her window, "Can we talk for a minute?"
"I tell you time and time again that you're allowed to call me Vancouver," She tries her best to be personable towards the members of her Diamond Legion, the inner circle of the Kingdom, those in charge of the majority of executive duties, "Ms. Easton was my mother," Vancouver doesn't like thinking of her though, what a waste.
"Right," Ivy pulls back a strand of red hair and pushes her glasses closer to her nose, "I wanted to ask you if you received the money from Bakersfield."
Vancouver rolls her eyes, "Well does it look like I'm carrying money right now," her hands bare.
"No…"
"Exactly," She rolls her eyes and points behind her, "Johannson and Becket are up there waiting for him… which means, shit— I'm without protection."
Because everything Vancouver does is not exactly legal, it's important she have somebody protecting her at all times. Typically, that's Johannson, but he can get grating at times, probably because he's like a father to her at this point, which is… rather unorthodox, the fact a man her real father hired to protect her before he died that was deemed "too chaotic and ruthless" to serve as a Peacekeeper is somebody she looks up to, but when has she ever cared? Maybe what's worse is the fact he's Beckett's father. Luckily, he doesn't seem to mind the fact his girlfriend goes to his father for advice, he's really understanding of the whole orphan thing, despite knowing the circumstances that led to it.
"Donahue," She calls out to one of the other retired Peacekeepers she got to work with her who's standing in the corner of the offices, "Could you escort me up a floor? I'd like to check on production."
Despite how busy the Kingdom's gotten ever since Vancouver took over, she still likes to take a personal approach with the operations, doing her best to remember the names of all her hundreds of employees, no matter how difficult it is, because she does genuinely like the people who work for her. Yeah they're indebted to her for giving them such a glamorous opportunity, but that doesn't mean she needs to treat them like shit, especially after everything that a fair bit of them have gone through, mainly the accident from about a year and a half ago, "Lumi's Big Boom," as it's called around Twelve in reference to the rat who set off her robotic bombs in the mines and killed several thousand.
It injured many more, severed their legs from their bodies rendering them unable to work in the mine, which happened to be quite the issue in a District almost entirely known for producing coal from mines. The Hob doesn't have room for all of them to rent out stalls for selling. They'd be homeless if it wasn't for Vancouver and her generous offers: "Come work for me, you don't need to be on your feet and I'll even house you."
Breaking cocaine from blocks is easy work that anybody can do, as is running numbers and placing orders in bags, so really they were living in the best possible outcome. All they have to do is not fuck up their orders and not steal and they're practically set for life. Some call it exploitation but to that, Vancouver just says she's being a proper businesswoman who took advantage of mass unemployment and empty mines to build her empire. Wasn't like her parents could run it anymore being as the Boom made them deader than dead, so really nothing was stopping Vancouver for stepping in, expanding what was once their tight knit circle of drug trafficking, and creating an empire.
And not only is she helping so many people that otherwise would be jobless and homeless, she's doing her best to put Twelve on the map as anything but the Dump of Panem. Even if it involves sitting on a throne of heroin and crack, Vancouver'll see Twelve summit into a place worthy of a queen, a place worthy of her.
"I'll take you upstairs," Donahue replies, "Though they're quite busy today. Apparently Abernathy's coming in tonight to pick up a big order, something about how he needs everything he can get to numb himself when he has to go to the Capitol tomorrow."
For the past few months, Vancouver's formed about as close as she could get to a friendship with Haymitch Abernathy, the man coming in weekly to pick up an array of the strongest goods in the Kingdom. It's a bit sad, the way he's a shell of the man Vancouver saw win the 50th Games, but he tips well and has always been polite to her.
Vancouver's trip upstairs is prevented by Beckett running towards her in a panic, his eye swollen and lip bruised, "What the fuck happened to you?"
"Well the good news is, Bakersfield came," She wraps him in his arms and presses her head to his left shoulder as he speaks, "The bad news is, he didn't like the notion that he has to pay for the shit he got and um… well my father's bringing him downstairs now if you want a word with him yourself."
The lowest level of the Silver Mine's the torture chamber, the prison, where Vancouver does her dirty work in the event that dirty work needs to be done, even if she doesn't like it. But nobody touches her Beckett and gets away with it, especially after they've already wronged the Kingdom, "Are you okay, though?"
"Please, this isn't the first time I've taken a beating for you," He presses his lips to her forehead, "And as far as I'm concerned, it won't be the last."
They walk hand in hand to the fifth floor, Donahue in front of them and shining a light so they can navigate the darkness. She thinks back at what she knows about Seren, or at least one of the hunches she has and whispers in Beckett's ear, "Could you do me a favor and make me a peanut butter sandwich?" He's learned not to question her.
Johannson's waiting for her in a cell, Seren bound to the walls with ropes and cuffs, trying and failing to wiggle his way free, "Glad to see you here."
Vancouver crosses her arms, "Though it's really a shame we have to meet in this prison again, it's really a shame people keep abusing us like this."
Seren flinches, "I just wanted to appo—"
"No you don't," She cuts him off and bites her lips, "Now, a question for you," Vancouver masquerades around the cell, hands on her hips, "You purchased every sort of good in my Kingdom except one thing; why didn't you buy any methenphetamines?"
"Personal preference," It's easy to detect his lies so Vancouver steps closer to him, "What?"
"I'm not an idiot, Seren," She bats her eyes like a puppy, "Are you by any chance allergic to anything in meth?"
"No," Tears well in his eyes but she doesn't care.
"Johannson, my knife," She signals him and that just leads Seren to panic more—
"Fine… yes, I'm allergic to meth but why do you care?" He stammers.
Well, it's simple. If Seren's allergic to something in meth, there's a damn good chance it's peanuts, which is why…
"Your sandwich," Beckett appears at the door, said item in his hands, peanut butter dripping off the sides, perfect.
"Thank you, love," Vancouver sinks the first bite between her teeth as Seren watches, fear in his eyes the way she likes it, "Why are you staring at me? I'm just hungry."
They both know Vancouver isn't just hungry. Bite by bite she stares Seren down, nearly laughing as he trembles until there's just one small piece of the sandwich left.
"Are you hungry too?" But she doesn't give him time to answer.
She chews the sandwich in her mouth, but this time, she doesn't swallow. Instead, Vancouver stands directly in front of him and pinches at his chin. Unsurprisingly, he doesn't open his mouths but despite all attempts to move his head, Vancouver's able to press her lips against his, food still in her mouth.
Her tongue brushes against Seren's teeth in an attempt to get him to open his mouth, and it works just well enough that she's able to push the sandwich through her mouth and into his.
Vancouver steps away, Seren's face turning red and his throat coughing mad. His eyes are so wide they nearly bulge out of his head, and that's how she knows she's done her job well, and all without a single drop of blood.
Seren's tongue drops out of his mouth and his head tilts to the side, let that be a reminder that nobody fucks with Vancouver and her Kingdom.
When I go into that ground
I won't go quietly, I'm bringin' my crown
And when I go into that ground
Oh, they gotta bury me, bury me face down
Calsin Verrillo. 18.
District Four Male.
TW: Mention of alcohol
Sure, Adrian's laughing at him for it, but there's some reason to Calsin's early rise that day, which is rare actually, the idea that Calsin Verrillo's got a purpose for his actions instead of being a reckless little asshole.
As they stumble towards Four's rocky shores, Calsin finds it difficult, his ankle twisting with every step, which is his own fault, But was I just not supposed to get wasted the night before the Reaping? If I'm about to fucking die, I don't want it to be sober. He's lucky Adrian's there to grab on his arm when he tilts too hard, and even though Calsin grunts at his touch, he enjoys it far more than he should.
"So you're not the tough guy you said you were last night, after all," Adrian chuckles, his voice light like the seafoam in the distance.
"The fuck you mean?" Calsin jeers, his arms snapping away from Adrian's so they can cross, "If anything, my hangover's just proof of how strong I am." His voice is oddly assured despite the lack of reasoning in his words, "If anything, you're just jealous because we both know you can't hold your liquor."
He has flashbacks to the night before, his arms wrapped around Adrian's waist, his chin rested on Adrian's head, his eyes closed as they swayed to the sounds of the waves crashing again the sands, too good to be true, or at least too good to happen sober. And Calsin pretends he has no recollection of it because the last thing he needs is Adrian trying to hold him again… the only person Calsin Verrillo's supposed to hold is himself. He doesn't need… attachment or connection, especially when—
Calsin was supposed to have a good life, or at least a good life from now on after a rather miserable first fifteen and a half years. When he ran away from home, he wasn't supposed to look back, he wasn't supposed to return to Havenside ever again. Poipu was supposed to be his new home, and he was supposed to spend the rest of his days on a ship with the wind in his hair, catching fish for the locals and looking for Sevillin. Calsin was supposed to eventually find his brother and that pirate Varsen wherever they'd ran off to, and then there would be smiles and laughter as they reunited, smiles and laughter when he finally got around to telling Adrian how he feels, yet that all shattered so fast.
Their shack was supposed to be just them, Adrian, Calsin, and the cats he found by the docks, Brack and Delphin. Sure, it was small and the walls were falling apart, but that didn't matter because it's just them.
And it was going well until a few months ago when Calsin awoke to a knock on the door and a voice he still remembered despite trying his best to forget, "Mr. Verrillo!"
Half asleep across the shack, Adrian had asked, "Do you know who that is?"
Calsin nodded, "Unfortunately, I do."
Shane Odeen: District Four native, Head Trainer at the Lotus Academy, professional fatass with a beer belly, and overall piece of shit. Calsin's life would have been way better if he never had to see that bastard again, but why would Calsin's life ever be good.
"What do you need, Shane?" He rolled his eyes when he opened the door, emphasizing the fact he'd called him by his first name and not his last as required at the Academy, "If you're begging me to come back and train for you, that's not happening. I've moved on to bigger and better things."
Yes, bigger and better things involved not having a shower and being forced to bathe in the ocean and only occasionally being able to cook his food, but that was better than the Academy, fucking freaks— all of them are. So obsessed with their status and their false god, always walking and talking about a white whale as if everyone's supposed to understand.
"You wish," Shane scoffed, his arms crossed in fury, "I've don't need you for your strength, or rather lack thereof."
That made a surprising amount of sense, Calsin was never the best at the Academy though none of the boys really were, it seemed that Shane spent most of his time training the girls in hopes one would "be a worthy savior" or some bullshit like that. The only time a Four boy wasn't completely useless as of late was during the 49th, when Calsin's brother Sevillin had grinded for hours and hours on end, so determined to be the designated volunteer.
Calsin still remembers the confident tone in his voice when he'd visit him in room at night and whisper, "I'm going to get us out of here, Sin. Once I volunteer and win, we won't have to deal with mom and dad and their bullshit, we'll run away, I promise."
It was too good to be true.
Despite a less than stellar performance throughout his time at the Academy, Caspian Zale was chosen to volunteer solely based on the fact his father had helped found the place. The night after it was announced, Sev climbed out the window and Calsin hasn't seen him since, the only person I could actually see myself in. Sure, Adrian and his hijinks are great, but Calsin would throw him in the ocean in an instant if it meant seeing Sev again, and then I wouldn't have to tell him how I feel— double win for me.
"You have a duty to uphold," Shane decided he'd let himself into the shack which was just plain rude of him, "I'm sure you know of my plans for the future, maybe from your parents before you left them?"
Of course Calsin knows, it was all Kyros and Julisa would talk about, how Shane Odeen's a great fucking man and that's why they've got to keep funneling money into the Academy despite the fact they treated all their kids like shit. They'd spew bullshit on how Shane's little "Collective," whatever the fuck that meant was the secret to bringing Panem peace and unity. Honestly? He doesn't buy it. There's simply no way to logically reason his parents making themselves puke every morning to "cleanse their souls," and if that's just part of their nutty little Collective, Calsin doesn't want any part in it. That and the fact the hastily designed statue of a white whale with a tall girl next to it is probably the ugliest fucking thing he's ever seen. There's no need to get involved.
And unfortunately, Calsin knows all too well that this group of asswhipes is planning a "revival" or sorts, plans to bring Panem to their knees. He knows that Shane's been on the lookout for a new "savior," ever since the previous one, Lana Lotus, died in the 26th, and unless he up and announces that to be Calsin, he doesn't care.
"That you're starting up again?" Calsin asked him, "Did you find your savior or something? Is it me?"
"You wish," Shane grunted, leaning back in his chair, "Tell me, do you know anything about Atlantis Seasbane."
The name itself made Calsin want to hit something… lord Atlantis, she really was something to say the least. He knows the rumors, about how her words literally kill and that the only reason she's at the Academy is because of some scholarship Shane gave her that really should be taken away because she— wait… shit!
"Is she your savior?" Calsin was just about ready to push Shane out of his chair, "Because I know you're fucking kidding me."
But he isn't, because Shane simply nods, "She has been for years. She's the closest thing to Lana we have left, and even if she's a bit more subtle, I think that she's the perfect fit to drag our country out of this mess."
Calsin yawned, Blah blah blah! Atlantis Seasbane is going to save our fucking country just like she "saved" all those girls with her advice that really just ended up worse off… what a mess… what a fucking mess that Atlantis is. You know who'd really be a good "savior?" Me, I've got good ideas to change the place and I'm not a fucking bitch to everyone I meet, gosh.
"Okay, but what does that have to do with me?" That was the real question here, since Calsin was still so confused as to why Shane was in his residence.
"She needs a sacrifice," He said it plain and simple, "And the best one I can think of is you, you know you did betray the Academy."
"What? How?" Calsin had raised his voice and pouted, "All I did was leave because I was tired of your bum-ass Collective and all your bullshit. If anything, you should be thankful that I didn't cover it in flames before I left."
"If Atlantis is really the one destined to avenge Lana, she'll kill you without question," Shane explained through Calsin's hisses, "And I know that she will, because it's what she was born to do."
Calsin had wanted to leave, had wanted to hide under the table and, well not cry because he's too tough for that but at least think about crying, but he wasn't given a choice. Outside his shack stood Caspian and his father Bron, their arms linking around him as they delivered an ultimatum, "Volunteer for the Games or we kill him," They'd pointed at Adrian, "And we'll find your brother too."
So he has no other choice. Calsin's volunteering not because he's the best or the most fit, but because if he doesn't, he'll lose his past and his future, and the doesn't want to be in the present.
The past three months have been spent training at the Academy after-hours, but that doesn't mean he's not afraid. Because that bitch Atlantis… he knows she's beyond his abilities, and while he wants to break her down, he's afraid.
He'll get over it. He has to.
They reach the water eventually and flinch when the waves meet their toes. It's bliss… well almost. If only Calsin be here forever instead of being shipped as a sacrifice later that day.
He further submerges himself and splashes at Adrian, "This could be the last time I do this, yanno?"
Adrian just frowns, "Don't say that. You said you'd do your best to come back."
And he will, Calsin's going to do whatever it takes to return to Adrian, return to the cats and return to his life. And he'll make everything better too, actually. Because he'll reform the Academy and he'll rid the lands of the Collective and he'll make the world a decent place to live in once and for all, even if times will always be hard for dreamers.
He tilts his head back and let the water cover his ears and drown out his thoughts before closing his eyes. Calsin doesn't hear a thing, doesn't see a thing, and the only thing he tastes is remnants of salt water on his tongue.
I'll get out of here, I promise I'll get out of here. Oh mighty sea, I'll let the Collective fall and Atlantis crash with her. I'll be the final current of the riptide no matter what it takes. I'll get my revenge, I have to.
The water washes away his past and clears his mind for the future, for his vengeance and his success, Soon, they'll all know my name, not as the Verrillo family loser but as the one who brought down the ultimate evil and brought forth the ultimate good.
He shakes the water from his hair and smiles, "Adrian, I'll come home soon. I just made a promise with the sea."
(But everyone knows Four's waters seldom keep their promises.)
Bad Dope, Ice Cube / bury me face down, grandson
Okay so fun fact about this Chapter is that I'm currently on a plane and I just wrote this whole thing. It's currently July 3rd meaning I finished this Chapter before the first set of intros was even posted. I just wanted to flex the fact I'm actually iconic, that's all.
Anyways! Calsin and Vancouver! For sure two of the most anticipated Tributes here at ACD so I hope they didn't disappoint and also thanks to Para for the girl boss and Dyl for the sea urchin. What a pair!
This marks us being halfway there on the road to being done with intros *no bon jovi music plays because that joke is so 2020* Curious to hear what y'all think of the cast thus far and what any possible dynamics could be, especially now that we also know half of the Career pack and have gotten a slight peak at two more of them.
As per usual, I hope you're all doing well, and be sure to drink some water if you haven't already (no salt water in it pls).
Okay, that's it, I'll see you next week xx
Fuck this shit, I'm out,
Linds