TRIPLE UPDATE!
Chapter One-Hundred-and-Seventy-Nine; Winning & Losing
Wirin exited President Snow's office, trying to convince his racing heart to slow. He had known Snow to put men guilty of lesser failings than Wirin now, to death immediately. Snow's granted reprieve only made Wirin more determined to see his mission through successfully.
He felt familiar hatred hiss through him as he thought of Seneca. The infallible, blue-eyed Seneca he had been competing against his whole life, and losing. His own uncle Vash blatantly preferred Seneca! Wirin considered his uncle had the sheer audacity to berate Wirin about their Xavier family name, when Vash clearly cared so little for his actual nephew; Wirin himself! Even President Snow wouldn't do away with his son, though Wirin showed far more loyalty to Snow than Seneca did most times.
Seneca was the cavalier, debonair son of the President, universally adored by all in the Capitol. His flaws like his short, volatile and violent temper or his arrogance were evidently overlooked. Because Seneca was charming, faultless and sophisticated and oozed confidence. He always knew what to say and how to say it. Practically every Capitolite woman wanted to be with him and every Capitolite man wanted to be him. And it wasn't even the fact that Seneca was the President's son that had secured for him such a formidable and enviable position. Seneca was dauntingly intelligent. As much as he was impatient and could be rash, he could also be shrewd and calculating. He wouldn't have lasted long as Head Gamemaker if not. He knew exactly how to manipulate others, how to get what he wanted, how to utterly crush anyone who attempted to challenge him.
To say that Wirin envied Seneca would be too tame a statement. Over the years as things had slowly gone wrong for Wirin while everything went right for Seneca; Wirin developed a complex that allowed him to blame Seneca for every little thing that went awry in his life. Wirin's sense of entitlement grew steadily as the list of things Seneca had taken from him that Wirin should have had by right, grew also.
His father's unconditional love, his uncle's support, the coveted position of Head Gamemaker, Capitolite women falling over him and Capitolite men green with jealousy looking at him…It should have all been Wirin's and yet Seneca had taken it. Seneca Crane; the untouchable Head Gamemaker and President's son.
Seneca even had Stephanie Trindlesworth, a district girl for his own Games falling in love with him! Electra Hocol had only become involved with Wirin for convenience and money, yet Stephanie Trindlesworth's affection for Seneca was becoming so blatantly obvious and genuine. The situations were different. Just like his uncle had said that morning, and Wirin hated Seneca all the more for it. Wirin didn't care about Stephanie Trindlesworth or Electra Hocol at all; they were district girls and Wirin always had held a contempt and disgust for district dwellers. But it was the fact that Seneca could obtain something so impossible as to have Stephanie Trindlesworth, a district girl that by all sensible reason should hate Seneca Crane above all, fall in love with him instead.
As far as Wirin was concerned, Seneca Crane had it all and Wirin Xavier was left with nothing. It was Wirin who trailed his family's name through the dirt when he got involved with a district girl and he was punished with his family and the Capitol's scorn. Yet when Seneca did the exact same thing, his uncle Vash was only too eager to help, President Snow was essentially protecting Seneca and the Capitol were still in love with their flawless, blue-eyed, arrogant Gamemaker.
Wirin with monumental difficulty pushed back the blinding hatred that had seized him. Wirin could almost laugh at fools like Haymitch Abernathy or Electra Hocol who thought they hated Seneca. Seneca may have had Haymitch Abernathy's entire family killed but Seneca had forced Wirin to murder his own father. At least that district tramp Abernathy's family loved him. Seneca didn't even allow me that, before I killed my father.
Wirin had waited years for an opportunity like this to bring Seneca down. He couldn't believe his luck when President Snow had sent him to find out why Seneca was missing so many meetings. He expected to find the blue-eyed Gamemaker was simply too unbothered to concern himself with actually attending meetings. Instead, rather unexpectedly, Wirin had happened upon Seneca's beginning entanglements with a district tribute for his own Games; District 3's Stephanie Trindlesworth.
Wirin had eagerly ran to Snow with the information, hoping gleefully that Seneca was in for a severe rebuking that Wirin could witness. But Snow had wanted to wait and see; to have Seneca monitored so he could ensnare and entrap him. Snow never was the type of father who would simply verbally upbraid his son.
Wirin never suspected that Seneca would do something so idiotically brilliant for Wirin, as to actually fall in love with Stephanie Trindlesworth; a worthless district girl. Wirin could still hardly believe it at times. That his infallible, pseudo-brother Seneca who he had witnessed perform acts of cruelty that made lesser men flinch, had actually fallen in love with someone as innocently and stupidly naïve as Stephanie Trindlesworth. It had been the golden opportunity that Wirin had been fervently wishing for with every fibre of his being for years.
This time Seneca would fall and Wirin would rise. This time Seneca would be stripped of everything while Wirin would gain everything. This time, finally and once and for all; Wirin would win and Seneca would lose.
Wirin was so caught up in his own thoughts that he careened directly into a smaller figure as they hurried past him.
Wirin whirled fiercely, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. "Do you know who I am?" Wirin began to threaten darkly, before his words trailed off as he recognised the pale, haggard looking figure.
"Sharpe!" Wirin addressed the smaller man.
Sharpe looked back at Wirin from red-rimmed eyes that were bloodshot, stubble shadowing his unwashed face.
"What the hell happened to you?" Wirin hissed, as he dragged the assassin into the nearest vacant room. The office was abandoned, the occupants evidently having gone to the cafeteria for their lunch break.
"Sharpe!" Wirin called angrily as the smaller man immediately began to pace a grove into the carpet in the small office, utterly ignoring Wirin.
"There's another one," Sharpe muttered, looking at Wirin with dark desperation in his eyes.
Sharpe took out his gun, running his surprisingly steady fingers over the cool metal in an attempt to soothe himself. "Another one," he muttered in an agonised whisper.
"Another what?" Wirin snapped impatiently.
"Sylvie. She has another lover. I know it. I just know it. I can tell you know. She thinks she's so clever and that I don't notice the little things, but I do. I do notice. And I know. I know she has a new lover. And with all the jobs I've been doing for President Snow recently I haven't been able to catch him. Kill him. Not yet. I stayed up nights without sleep trying to catch him as he snuck in. But I haven't been able to. Not yet. But I will. I will – "
"Damn you Sharpe!" Wirin cried furiously as he seized the smaller man by fistfuls of his jacket, shaking him hard. "Snap out of it Sharpe! Your wife has a new lover. So what?! The President's work comes first, before all."
"I could smell his cologne when I went into the bedroom, but Sylvie - " Sharpe muttered under his breath, moustache twitching feverishly.
"I swear Sharpe, if you don't pull yourself together right now, I will sleep with your damn wife myself!" Wirin loomed over Sharpe, fingers white as he twisted the material of Sharpe's cheap jacket tighter.
Sharpe's eyes sharpened suddenly as Wirin's words registered. "I'd kill you if you tried it," Sharpe muttered sullenly.
Wirin fleetingly smirked grimly. Then his expression sobered. "Sharpe, now is not the time to be having a breakdown because your wife has taken another lover. You'll find him and kill him, like you have all the others. But all in good time. Now the President needs you for work of his. Seneca has grown careless and sloppy; you cannot afford to do likewise over a woman."
"But Sylvie…" Sharpe trailed off with an agonised whimper as he clutched his gun tighter.
Wirin gritted his teeth, willing himself to have patience. Why of all bloody days did Sharpe have to find out about his wife's newest affair today?! The black storm outside seemed suddenly apt to Wirin's current situation. Everyone was counting on him to make things right, and yet the people he was meant to rely on were falling to pieces and letting him down.
"Sharpe, you can deal with Sylvie's new lover later. Right now you have work – "
"What if he's there right now?" Sharpe interrupted in a fanatic whisper, eyes wide, teeth bared in a grimace of pain almost. "If I go back home right now, I could catch him!" Sharpe's grip on his gun grew white-knuckled.
Wirin shook Sharpe again harshly before the smaller man could move for the door. "Sharpe damn you! You have work to do for the President that is bigger than your wife's latest lover!"
Sharpe glared at Wirin, eyes still wide and desperate. "I have been doing the President's work! Killing all those guards and drivers and Avoxes and even medics! And when I was doing all that work, Sylvie…Sylvie, she was…"
"Your work isn't finished yet, Sharpe," Wirin snarled uncompromisingly.
"I know, I know," Sharpe snapped miserably. "District mentor – Haymitch Abernathy. Kill him for you or Seneca or the President, I don't care."
Wirin resisted the urge to punch the smaller man to knock some sense into him. If only for the reason that Sharpe was still clutching his gun fiercely to his chest, and in such an unhinged state Wirin didn't trust Sharpe to show the restraint necessary not to use it to lethal purpose.
"Yes Sharpe, that's right. You have to kill Haymitch Abernathy. For the President. Because that is your job; you are Snow's personal and best assassin. You've never failed him. You've never missed a shot. You always deliver on your jobs."
Sharpe blinked stupidly, staring down at the gun in his hands. "I never miss a shot…" he mumbled childishly and Wirin resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Yes Sharpe," he encouraged through gritted teeth, slowly releasing his grip from the assassin's coat.
Sharpe looked up at Wirin, his expression slightly more focused. "Haymitch Abernathy. District 3's 90th Hunger Games Victor," Sharpe listed clinically.
Wirin breathed a swift sigh of relief, seeing as Sharpe's objective, unfeeling assassin front began to take over from the broken, paranoid husband of before.
"Yes. Your President's orders are to assassinate him," Wirin confirmed.
Sharpe nodded smartly. "I always obey the President," he muttered, reverently replacing his gun beneath his coat.
"Good," Wirin said, before grimacing slightly. "Maybe get cleaned up first Sharpe. I don't claim to be a professional assassin like you, but surely you have to blend in with your surroundings to carry out a covert hit."
Sharpe looked down over his haggard appearance of wrinkled and sweat-stained clothing, as though only noticing them for the first time. "Fine," he mumbled moodily.
"I want a favour in return though," Sharpe demanded suddenly, looking defiantly up at Wirin.
Wirin scowled. "The President doesn't – " Wirin began to bite back derisively when Sharpe cut across him.
"Not President Snow. You. I want a favour from you, Wirin Xavier."
Wirin stiffened, but tried not to let his wariness show. "Fine, what is it?" he snapped.
"Find out who he is: Sylvie's new lover. Find out who he is so I can kill him. I know you have resources being Chief of President Snow's staff. Use them to put my house under constant surveillance. Catch him sneaking in, and when you do, tell me who he is so I can kill him."
Wirin growled. "I can't just use resources from these offices to hunt down your wife's latest bed partner," Wirin sneered sardonically.
"But you will. I'm keeping your secret from Seneca all these years, aren't I? I could just as easily tell Seneca that it was really you who killed Lark."
Wirin gritted his teeth angrily, breathing harshly through his nose. Wirin always had been a bragger. Years ago, with Electra Hocol's blood still on his clothes he had gone out for a celebratory night of drinking, boasting to anyone who would listen about what he had done previously to the District 3 Victor. He couldn't resist therefore the opportunity to crow about his next brilliance and stroke of ingenuity in rigging his own father's Games against him. Unfortunately in his drunken state of celebration after Lark had been executed, his listener that night years ago had been Sharpe.
Sharpe and Snow were the only two people alive who knew Wirin's secret. For Wirin knew that if Seneca found out, there would be no corner of this earth that he could hide in that Seneca would not ruthlessly hunt him down, and find him to punish him.
"You fool! If you did that our President would kill you, because you would be telling Seneca about President's Snow's part to play in my father's death also."
Sharpe scowled, little moustache twitching. But he still faced Wirin determinedly. "President Snow probably would have me killed," Sharpe agreed. "But not before I told Seneca the truth. And then no-one in the whole of Panem could save you from Seneca."
Wirin tried his hardest not to gulp audibly. "Who do you think you are; you brainless, little imp, to try and threaten me?" Wirin spat scathingly.
But a disturbing grin curved Sharpe's lips as he shook his head knowingly. "You don't fool me Wirin. This situation is making you nervous. And do you know how I know you're nervous? Because you give me the order to assassinate Haymitch Abernathy before you had cleared it with President Snow. "
"I had already cleared it with President Snow, when I gave you the orders before. I was merely reminding you now of your duties before you could sink any more into a pitiful excuse of a man, whimpering over your wife and her latest lover," Wirin lied, grappling desperately for superior ground, and not liking how close Sharpe was to being right. Because the current situation was making Wirin nervous.
It was alright before when Seneca was merely conjuring up more creative ways to torture Haymitch from afar each year by killing his tributes. But now – now Stephanie Trindlesworth had altered things; was whispering sweet, little words into Seneca's ear and changing him. And she was involved with Haymitch Abernathy intimately also. Wirin was sure that he had covered his tracks in Lark's murder definitively, but still; a situation as delicate as the current one made Wirin extremely nervous.
Sharpe was right. Wirin had given Sharpe the order to assassinate Abernathy before he had gotten President Snow's approval. But now that had gotten the President's approbation to kill Haymitch Abernathy, Sharpe couldn't refuse.
Yet Sharpe knew that Wirin was nervous; and the little, mindless man had enough gumption to try and squeeze Wirin with the one small titbit of power he had.
Wirin felt hatred burn in him like acid. He had spent the morning being pushed around by Seneca and his uncle Vash. He wasn't about to let someone like Sharpe, who he considered lesser than him, to try and do the same.
"You know Sharpe; any real man would have just put a bullet between Sylvie's pretty green eyes by now, instead of chasing after her like the simpering imbecile you are, pining for the day when she might actually want you. Allow me to let you in on a little secret Sharpe: Sylvie would sleep with every other man in Panem including every disgusting, worthless district dweller before she would even spare you, her husband, a second glance."
Sharpe's fingers tightened on his gun, until his fingertips had turned white with the pressure and the little man practically shook with rage; neat moustache twitching frantically.
When Sharpe spoke though his voice was only filled with cold promise, and not blinding fury. "I want to know who Sylvie's new lover is. And I know you can find out for me, Wirin. Or I will tell Seneca about what you did."
Wirin rolled his eyes in angered exasperation, attempting to look nonchalantly unconcerned. He tried not to spare a thought to what Seneca would do to him if the blue-eyed Gamemaker ever found out it was him that had killed Lark, and not Abernathy.
"Fine then!" Wirin exclaimed haughtily. "I will use these specialised resources I have access to, just to find out Sylvie Sharpe's latest damn lover," Wirin finished sardonically.
A grim smirk of relief touched Sharpe's lips and Wirin resisted the urge to sneer contemptuously.
"Will you see to your work now for the President like the good, mindless assassin you are?" Wirin added scathingly.
Sharpe scowled darkly but offered no protest. He stood to his full unimpressive height, unsuccessfully trying to straighten his crumpled jacket.
"I am at the President's service always," Sharpe replied before exiting the office.
Wirin let his eyes slip shut as soon as he heard the office door close. He breathed heavily through his nose, resisting the urge to tear something apart. That behaviour reminded him too much of Seneca.
Wirin's eyes snapped open as he stared out the window at the building storm.
He had waited too long for an opportunity like this. An opportunity to finally be the winner. He wouldn't let idiots like Sharpe ruin it for him.
Wirin could have easily told Sharpe that his wife had been fooling around with Dan Flickerman behind his back, and for longer than Sharpe could even imagine. But Wirin wouldn't. Because Dan Flickerman was crucial to keeping Seneca's district fling secret. And that was Wirin's main priority.
He had only two main objectives at this point.
To keep Seneca and his district tramp's affair a secret by whatever means necessary; no matter how many bodies Sharpe would need to leave behind to do so.
And to gain access to Seneca's master passkey and the arena blueprints, so that Wirin could rig the arena and have Seneca's own Games kill the woman he loved.
Once he had obtained those two goals Wirin was convinced; nothing would ever stand in his way again.
Thanks to girlworthfightingfor for the review; I'm guessing after this chapter you mightn't feel so sorry for Wirin anymore (even a little bit) :P
Thanks to Silver Fletcher for the review; I'm glad you're continuing to stay intrigued and enjoying the read!