"There is nothing more important in my life than being a father. I will never allow any of my career choices or aspirations to threaten this bond." -Corey Hart
District Eight's Lawrence Varen's POV
*Eight years ago*
"Get back here you son of a bitch!" One of my pursuers shouted as I rounded a corner of one of the many factories that made up the district. Factories were in nearly every section of the district. Rich, middle, and poor sections of the district had factories, but where I was right now, the industrial part of the district, had the most factories in one place, a perfect place to lose people that were chasing you. Or a perfect place to get lost yourself if you were unlucky, or just didn't know the area well enough. I knew the area well enough not to get lost, but the real question was, did they?
I continued to run, hoping to lose them in the maze of industrial buildings and alleyways, but it was easier said than done. These people were willing to go to extreme measures to insure that I didn't leave with their precious cargo, and I didn't blame them, this stuff was valuable, so valuable that it was a Capitol issue. Letting it get in the wrong hands was something that they didn't want to happen, and I was in the same position as them. I didn't want it to get in the wrong hands as well, but unfortunately, it was already in the wrong hands. Their hands. I couldn't allow them to hold on to it any longer. It wasn't safe. It was dangerous. And it was bad.
I continued to take sharp turns and go in as many directions and change alleyways as often as I could without slipping on the wet ground that was a mixture of loose dirt and mud, or on pieces of debris and useless machine parts that were no longer in use. I didn't want them to catch me, who knows what they would do to me. It was stupid, and dangerous, but it was something that needed to be done.
Running, jumping, rounding, dodging, I had never done so much of this in my life. The clothing store that my wife and I run had the occasional thief that would try to steal some of our things, but most of the time, I was able to catch them. Got quite good at it too. The trick was to prevent them from getting out the door, that would usually end in an easy victory. And even if they did get out of the door, usually all I'd need to do is chase them down until the stolen clothes got tangled up in something, or the clothes slipped from their hands, or some obstacle got in their way. Mostly it was people that they accidentally ran into because they were watching me chase them instead of looking ahead of them.
Normally, we'd be able to catch the thieves, but there were times that they got away. It was always a shame when they got away with our items. We were better off than the majority of the district thanks to our clothing store selling quality stuff for any class of citizens, but that didn't mean that we could afford to have our stuff stolen. It was still a struggle to live, and I didn't want my wife or my daughters to somehow fall into poverty, like a lot of the citizens that roamed the streets of District Eight. Like the people I had known.
And besides, you start to go easy on thieves, they'll overrun you, feed off the weakness that you showed them, and you'll soon find yourself fighting on the street for the very clothes that you were protecting in the first place. Except that it would no longer be between staying in business and making a profit, but between being cold and being somewhat comfortable.
Right now, I had new respect for those kids, teenagers, and adults that would take a chance at taking the shop's items. This fear that I was feeling was like a darkness surrounding me, the dangerous unknown somewhere in that darkness, right to strike at any moment. The fear of stopping was the only thing that kept me running, even though my legs felt as if they were burning up inside, melting my bones and ripping my muscles apart. My chest and throat were tight as I struggled to breathe. My sights were surrounded with black and grey patterns that swirled every which way. My heart was beating so hard that I thought I was going to vomit it out, and my body was getting mixed with hot sweat and the cold rain.
So this is how they felt when I chased them. I never knew that it was so scary and intense. I now knew what it was like to have your life on the line now, and I suddenly understood why they tried to hard to outrun, out manouvour, and try to stop me at any cost.
So this is what it's like on the other side. I didn't like it.
The running, the pain, the fear, I didn't like it one bit. The mud and rain and people behind me didn't help either. Still, I needed to do this, just like those kids stealing from me, I had to do this.
I continued to run, to get away from them, but then I started to slow down, and more fear started to rush through my body.
My legs started to get heavier, like they were being weight down with weights. My breathing became heavier, and I could no longer breathe properly, and the pain in my chest, arms, legs, and even my head, became more intense. I started to get slower, and slower, and slower, until I couldn't even move. My body was so tired and in so much pain that I fell to my knees.
No. This can't happen. Not yet.
"Caught you you bastard!" One of my chasers shouted before I felt a sharp pain erupt behind my head. Caught in a moment of blinding pain, I fell right into the mud, soaking the entire front of my body with freezing cold intensity, before I felt the assault of fists and footwear hitting me furiously.
I couldn't fight back. I tried, but everything I did seemed to be useless. I blocked one attack, three other attacks would get past me.
Head, chest, sides, legs, feet, arms, hands, they attacked everything. Even when I managed to get to my feet, they continued to attack me. Grabbing my jacket and slamming their fists in my face while slamming them elsewhere as well. It was hell.
I could feel the warm, sticky blood running out of various parts of my body, and I could see myself going blind along with the feeling of my bones possibly breaking, but they continued to brutalize me. I had never felt so much agony in my life.
These people were furious and violent, that's what separated me from them. I would get my stolen merchandise back and tell the thieves to shove off, never hurting them more than I needed to. These people however, were going to kill me in order to keep their secret a secret.
Fuck. Now what was going to happen to my Janee? My June? My December? What was to become of them now that I was dead? Dead because of my stupid fucking mistake.
Thinking about them and what they'd be thinking hurt me more than the pain that these people were inflecting on me. The thought of the future was worse than the physical pain of the present. I had to get away, I just had to.
"You there!" A voice called out. All of a sudden, the attack stopped. I gave a heavy sigh of relief, as much as it hurt, and wondered who had stopped this attack. I tried to look, but it was too painful to move, so I just laid where I was, hoping that it wasn't one of their friends that came to finish the job. "What are you all doing?"
"This man stole from us!" One of my attackers told the newcomer. "We were just trying to get back what was ours."
"Really?" The newcomer said, unconvinced that they were telling the truth. "And where is this stolen item of yours? Can I see it?"
"It's...Um...It...Um..." The attacker stuttered, afraid to say where it was on me. He didn't want this guy to see it. I couldn't help but smile and use all of my energy to turn my head up to see why he was so worried. Feeling the strain on my neck as muscles seemed to rip apart, I saw a small group of men wearing white uniforms and raincoats that had rain slithering down the plastic. Each of them held a rifle in their hands. Peacekeepers.
My grin grew as I discovered that this was my chance to show them what I had stolen, and shut down the hazardous operation that was going on in this district.
"It's a data pad." I answered with a voice that almost didn't sound like my own.
I saw the peacekeeper turn towards me as my attackers looked on in fear. "In my bottom right jacket pocket." The peacekeeper nodded before he turned back to his companions.
"You four watch these assholes as I search the suspect." His allies answered simply before he walked towards me. His boots dirty with wet mud.
The peacekeeper roughly placed his hand in my pocket, and started to search around. I continued to smile, knowing that what I had done wouldn't have been in vain. I wasn't the one to be scared now, the original owners of the data pad were the ones that should be shitting their pants.
When the peacekeeper found the data pad in my pocket, he ripped it out before waving it around in the air. "Is this what he stole from you?" A couple moments of silence occurred as only the falling rain made any sound. "I asked you all a question." He said, his voice becoming more harsh. "Is this, or isn't this, the fucking data pad that he stole from you assholes or what?"
"Y-Yes." One of them answered suddenly.
"What are you so scared about?" One of the other peacekeepers asked. "Afraid of us finding something illegal on that device? Is that why you're scared and the thief isn't?"
Before anyone could say anything, the peacekeeper with the data pad activated the device and started to look at the lists that were on it. I sighed with relief and placed my head back in the mud. My work here was done. I had done my part, the peacekeepers could do the rest.
"What's you name, thief?"
"Lawrence Varen." I answered, too tired and happy to care that he called me thief.
My joy and tiredness turned to confusion as I felt myself get ripped off the ground before I saw the data pad get thrown to the people I had stolen it from. What the hell? What was that all ab-
"Lawrence Varen," The peacekeeper harshly said to me as he pulled me in close, his face so close to mine that I could count his eyelashes and smell his disgusting breath. "Want to know what I think you want with Capitol shipping records?" What? Capitol shipping records? That not what was on the pad. "I think you're a rebel that wants to either blow up our supply line, or you want to steal supplies for your rebel friends."
What? No! No! That's wrong! Fuck! Fuck! What went wrong? Shit. I think I stole the wrong data pad. And now they think I'm a rebel. A rebel of all things!
Fear rose inside of my as I realized where this was heading. "Either way, the sentence is death. Got anything to say about that?"
*One month later*
"So you're Lawrence Varen, the man who begged for his life until a deal got cut?"
"That's right." I told the peacekeeper that was escorting me through District Two from the train station. He was a young man, early twenties with a shaved head and muscled body. Looked and seemed kind enough, though I wasn't sure wither he was like that because he wanted to be or not. The peacekeepers that had been escorting me from my native District Eight to here hadn't looked too happy to have me come aboard as they headed to their home.
They had looked at me like I was below them, that they couldn't believe that I was on the same train as them. More than once I had heard comments from them saying that I didn't belong with them, that the Capitol, and someone called Hurricane, allowed my plea to be heard. They also weren't the nicest people around as they were rough as could be. Shoving me into the train, shoving me into my chair, kicking me and slamming the butts of their guns into me if I moved too slowly. Yeah, I didn't belong with them either, but I did what I had to do.
I didn't want to get executed, it would have brought shame to both my family and my ancestors. I would forever be branded a thief that stole from a merchant, and my family would have had to live with that title upon them. I didn't want them to suffer, so I begged for an alternative. I wanted something, anything, that would clear my name. Something that wouldn't allow my family to suffer and so that I wouldn't shame the name of those that lived before me.
And they did come to a decision. They wouldn't have me branded as a thief, and I wouldn't be killed, but I had to serve the Capitol for the rest of my life. I had to become a peacekeeper until I died. And there was no way that I could return home.
It saddened me to no end, because my family saw me begging for my life until those in power caved in and struck a deal with the Capitol and District Two. They had to see me at my lowest, and be charged with a crime that had been a huge mistake. They didn't know that though, they didn't need to know about it and they couldn't know about it.
Before I was hauled off by the peacekeepers, those merchants that I had stolen from had threatened me. They said that if I ever told anyone, peacekeeper or otherwise, or if their operation got shut down, they would slit the throats of my family. I wasn't going to risk their lives again, so I kept my mouth shut and I'll probably always keep it shut. For their sake.
But it was also for their sake that I become part of the system that was hated by damn near everyone in the district. I become part of the Capitol. Become a peacekeeper. I didn't like the peacekeepers as well, but I was going to swallow what little pride I had if it meant that my family would be safe both physically and in name.
And now I was here in District Two. Strange, I expected to be transported to the Capitol, where the peacekeepers came from. Was it just a pit stop or something?
"Welcome to District Two, Lawrence Varen." The young peacekeeper told me before he nodded his head to the side. I then noticed that the peacekeepers that had been escorting me were now leaving, walking away from the train station with a look that looked like they had a weight off their shoulders, leaving just myself and this young peacekeeper. "I'll be your guide until further notice." He took a pause before continuing. "Before we go on a tour of the district, got any questions?"
"Why am I in District Two?" I asked. "Isn't the Capitol the one that supplies peacekeepers?"
The young man just laughed as if I had just told him a joke. I didn't see what was so funny about it.
"Most of the Capitol citizens can hardly take care of themselves, and you think that they'd want to give up their luxurious lifestyle to come down and patrol districts?" I hadn't thought of it that way.
"Not really." I told him as I thought of the Capitol citizens that I had seen before, mainly escorts, and wondered why would they give up their comfortable lives and come to the districts. It now made sense why peacekeepers seemed different from the Capitol, even if they were supposed to be from there. "So peacekeepers aren't Capitol rejects? They're all from District Two?"
"Mostly." He answered. "Some Capitol citizens come to serve their country because they're in dept or something. But other than that, yeah, the vast majority of the peacekeeping forces are born and raised in good old District Two."
"Makes sense."
"Come on, let me show you around as I explain what you should expect in a few months."
He then started to take me around District Two, explaining about how they were the military of Panem and that they were also a masonry district, the role that District Two had in Panem, and showed me that many sights that were in the district. I told myself that I should learn where everything was since it was going to be my new home for, well, the rest of my life perhaps.
He only got to show me a little of the district, which was mostly the military section and the town square, before he started to get back to the reason that I was really here for. "So in a few months you'll be heading to basic peacekeeper training, and from the report that I've gotten, you've got to pass it, otherwise, it's back to your original punishment."
"Don't remind me." I sighed as I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the pressure build up inside me. If I didn't become a peacekeeper at the next available opportunity, I would be sent back to District Eight and executed. I couldn't let that happen. "What do I have to do to pass?"
"For starters, how far can you run?" He asked.
"How far can I run?" I asked, wondering why he would ask me that. "Why?"
"You're going to find out that you have to run a lot during training. So much in fact that there's a reason why the drill instructors call them five mile fun runs." Drill instructors? Five miles?
"Five miles?" I asked, shocked at the distance. "Are you kidding me?"
"Remember, they're fun runs, so you're going to sometimes be running six or seven miles each morning."
"Each morning!"
"Four oh clock sharp."
Four in the morning! Ancestors. Are you crazy?"
"I guess we found out what you need to work on first." He commented. "Anyway, in order to just get in you need to be able to run five miles in thirty five minutes or less, march twelve miles in full military gear, which is around seventy pounds or more, eighty push ups in two minutes, eighty sit ups in two minutes, fifteen chin ups, be able to fight, and go a while without sleep." Holy crap. The running was bad enough, but from the sound of what I had to do just to get in sounded like I was going to die before I even got into the training. And what the heck were chin ups? Sit ups?
I looked at him, and he didn't look like he was kidding. "I would also mention that you'll only be eating one or two meals a day, but since you're from one of the poorer districts, I'm guessing you're ahead of the game." Was I going to even survive this? What have I gotten myself into? "Now come on, let's go see Commander Hurricane so that you can get measured and weighed and help him finish some of the application work."
*Five months later*
I had never been a fit person, so when my District Two peacekeeper escort, Quartz, put me through career training, I thought that I was going to die within the first couple of weeks. But I lived through it. But not without some humiliation.
Turns out that Quartz was serious about wanting to train me, so he did what he thought was best, teach me in the way that he had been trained. So what ended up happening was that I trained like a career, a career that went to school and learned how to fight and get in shape. I ran, did push ups, sit ups, combat, swimming, obstacle courses, and weaponry with teenagers. I went to class with them.
They wondered what someone like me was doing with them, and I had to wonder why I was with them as well. Wouldn't it of been better if Quartz had just trained me himself? Or got someone to train me privately? Apparently not.
At first, the only thing that the school kids did was wonder why a forty one year old man was in the training academy with them, doing classes with them. At first, they thought that I was their new instructor, until their instructor told them that I was going to be learning with them.
But it eventually lead to them mocking me for my lack of athletics. I could barley run a mile, couldn't do two pull ups, or do an obstacle course without falling on my ass. Couldn't even fight that well, and ended up having my face shoved into the floor more than once a day. I was a joke to them. I felt like a joke just being around them. Being late teenagers, they were in prime shape, and they had been trained their entire lives. I didn't belong there, and they knew it. I knew it.
It was a great change, and one that I hadn't willingly made.
There was a good side to it though, and it was that they feed me well. I may have gotten breakfast, lunch, and dinner back in District Eight, but the food in District Two was of better quality and quantity. It made sense, them being the Capitol lap dogs and a career district.
Quartz lived in the peacekeeper barracks, and nobody but peacekeepers could live in that building, so I lived with his mother, father, and two younger brothers, both in younger years than the class I was training with. Even so, they were still more athletic than I was. Still, they treated me right and gave me good food and shelter, so I didn't complain.
Everyday, I came to their home with bruises, cramps, and pain. It was horrible, and when the weekends came, I thought that I had died and gone to heaven. A break from all that training. I never been that tired in my life, and that was just after two weeks.
Now, as I have my hands in the freezing cold snow, sinking deeper ever so slowly with the chilly wind hitting the left side of my body as thick snowfall blew on my uniform, already wet from snow, slush, and sweat, I wished that I was back in the career training academy.
Peacekeeper training was so much harsher than academy training. Now instead of instructors trying to teach you by explaining things to you and demonstrating stuff until you eventually got it, we had drill instructors who shouted and swore a lot and physically attacked you and punished you for any, and every mistake that you made.
They also pushed you farther than you thought you could handle, but were too afraid to stop because of the physical and verbal abuse that you'd hear would make it seem so much worse.
I don't know if it was luck or not, but I ended up with the toughest drill instructor in District Two. Drill instructor Breezy, Commander Hurricane's little sister. I knew before hand that she was a tough instructor, thanks to Quartz filling me in on her. And even then I didn't expect her to be as tough as she was. For one thing, when she couldn't wake someone up, mainly me in the beginning, she would pour ice water on you, even though it was freezing cold outside. She had other sadistic methods that made you quickly fall in line, and they were effective.
She also liked to remind everyone that I wasn't of District Two origin, and that I was forty two years old, and say that I wasn't going to pass because I had been raised in a too comfortable lifestyle to handle being a peacekeeper. And at times, I nearly let those words get to me, because I felt as if that it was true, but I held my pain inside and tried to not show it.
I didn't belong here either, because most of these kids were half my age. Kids that had willingly signed up, not been forced to choose between life and death.
Normally, someone my age wouldn't have gotten in either, the cut off age for enlisting in the peacekeepers was twenty eight. So here I was, training with kids over a decade younger than me. Hell, I was older than drill instructor Breezy, who was in her early thirties. The only thing that I was better at than the kids was that I was able to fight through the hunger that they oh so hated.
To them it was pure agony. They bitched about how they were losing weight and how they felt so weak and were being starved to death because they were going through the rigorous activities that were being demanded of them. Meanwhile, I thought of home and found that while I wasn't living the way I had been back home not too recently, I wasn't affected as much as the career kids. It made me proud that I could do just that one thing better than them.
But even with that achievement, I was still at my lowest.
"Recruit!" I heard DI Breezy scream an instant before I saw her face in the corner of my right eye, her brimmed hat on my temple, sending melting snow streaking down my face. "Did I tell you to fucking stop pushing?"
"No Ma'am!" I answered, wondering how long I had been letting myself rest from doing some of the many push ups I should be doing.
"So why did you stop, recruit!" She continued to yell in my ear, sending a high pitched ring through my skull.
"Sorry Ma'am!" I answered as I let my body fall and push up again, ever so slowly, against the protests of my screaming, burning arms.
"I asked you a question, recruit!" She yelled. "Why did you stop? Answer me before I rip all of your god damn teeth out!"
"Tried, Ma'am!"
"You're tired?" DI Breezy said with mock surprise. "How many push ups have you done?"
"Seventy, Ma'am!"
"Seventy push ups." She said thoughtfully, right before she started to scream at me again. "Bitch, you will continue to do push ups until I get tired! You had your rest, now put it to some fucking use!"
"Yes Ma'am!" I shouted as I continued to slowly do ever more push ups against the objections my arms were sending to my brain.
I couldn't help but feel eyes glaring at me. Even though I got chewed out, they were still pissed that I got an opportunity to rest while they continued to abuse their arms.
I hated this. I hated all of this.
Waking up at four in the morning, before the sun even showed it's face, to do five mile runs, in the snow and slush, do other physical activities, learn about weapons and discipline and teamwork and military tactics and history and more physical training. Getting verbally and physically attacked by drill instructors and my fellow recruits. The physically and mental toll that peacekeeper basic training was taking on me. Nothing I did was ever good enough. I had to run faster, get better test scores, or pull myself up faster. Try to get one last punch in. I hated it all.
Some of the younger, fitter kids had already dropped out, and here I was, still here and doing what they couldn't do, and I still couldn't get any damn respect from these District Two folks. The only people in this district that had shown me any respect was Quartz, and Hurricane. What did I have to do for everyone to not hate me? Sure I was an outsider, but was I really that bad?
I was in the same position as you people. Harsh conditions with harsh instructors, shaved bald to look the same as you people while having my identity and dignity taken away from me. I was no longer Lawrence Varen, I was recruit. Just like the rest of you.
I looked at the girl to my right, and thought one thought. Whatever your name was, it no longer matters, the only thing you are is a recruit. Same as me.
I looked to the boy to my left, and thought the same thing. Same as me. He was the same as me, same as the girl to my right, and everyone else in this fucking training session.
We were the same, so why was I the only one that was being treated different?
As I heard instructor Breezy give an ear full to another recruit, I thought to myself that it doesn't really matter what those kids think. It doesn't matter what Breezy thinks of me. If they want me to fail, try as hard as you fucking please, I will not fail. Failing is not an option. If you all fail, you can all try again in the summer. I didn't have that option, I had to pass this training session, no second chances.
My family depended on me. I couldn't fail. Not with everything that I had almost done to them. Not after everything I had already done to them. I couldn't make this worse for them.
Thinking about the reason I was here, I continued to push my body up and down, ignoring the screaming agony of my arms threatening to break.
*Two and a half months later*
Graduation. I was finally done peacekeeper basic training, and honestly, it felt like one of the greatest achievement of my life. One of my proudest moments. The only time that I felt this happy was when my babies, June and December, were born. I was that happy.
When Commander Hurricane handed me my white uniform, clean and pressed, along with my helmet, boots, extendable baton, side arm and automatic rifle, I felt that things were going to be better. It was the start of a new life, and while I was going to miss my old life, I knew that it was for the better. For both my family and myself.
"Congratulations, Varen." Breezy said to me, talking to me like I was actually a human being. "You're a peacekeeper now." Those words were like no other. It was amazing. But at the same time, I was dreading the thought of being a peacekeeper.
Peacekeepers were hated by those back in the district. And why wouldn't they be? They harassed us and punished us, hurt us for every minor infraction that we did. Even worse was that they were fully willing to do it. They might not be Capitol, but it was worse to know that it was District Two, because they had sold themselves to the Capitol. Not only were they a career district, a place that thrives on the games, taking their winnings and making their lives better than they needed it to be. They were already living better than us, they didn't need any more money to support them. Those careers also killed our kids in the arena, leaving us to wonder if our children were ever going to return home.
If Districts One, Two, and Four were already Capitol lap dogs, District Two was definitely the Capitol ass kissers, and I was now a part of them.
Joy mixed with disgust. An odd combination.
"Thank you, Ma'am." I told her, feeling a bitter sweet taste in my mouth. I both hated and liked her. Hated her because she had abused me for fourteen weeks, pushing my body past it's breaking point, and making my life a living hell. But I liked her, because she transformed me into someone that I could have never been before. The old Lawrence would never have been able to do the training. And if there was one thing that kept me going, besides the fact that it was my life and my family's life on the line, it was the single sentence that she had once said to me. She had told me that our body is stronger than we think. That our body doesn't quit us, we quit our body. Pain is only in the mind. Those words were what kept me going.
When the last peacekeeper graduated had recovered their uniform, weapons, and equipment, Commander Hurricane, leader of the peacekeepers, and his sister, drill instructor Breezy, gave us a final speech about how this was going to be a new, exciting chapter in our lives before dismissing us.
Basic training was over, and I thanked my ancestors that I had managed to pass it.
Of the one hundred kids that had started training, only sixty were left. Did I feel the need to say that the one that they had made fun of so much had beaten them on their own turf? I did. But I didn't do it. The sight of me in a white uniform with the name Varen stitched on the right breast of my uniform would say enough. As I walked out of the parade grounds, I couldn't wait to get a look at their shocked faces.
*Three years later*
During my tour of District Three, I found out that I was wrong about the peacekeepers. They weren't the so called sadists that lived on our fear and pain. They weren't soulless, nor were they really bad people. Instead, I found that these kids and adults were just that, kids and adults. They were people, just like me.
Well, most of them were. The trouble makers, the real bad ones, they were sent to districts Ten, Eleven, and Twelve, where conditions were the harshest and where they would keep the locals in line the most.
District Ten because it was farm land and where most of the meat came from. District Eleven because of their agriculture. And District Twelve because it was a place that had given birth to the almost second rebellion. The Capitol didn't want District Twelve to rise up again, and because of the corruption that had been there before, the Capitol wanted to tighten it's hold on it.
I saw some of those psychos that were sent to those districts, and I knew that I would never want to cross their paths. Just looking into their eyes made me know that anyone that got on their bad side would be more than just sorry. Luckily, over three quarters of the peacekeeper force was made up of people that weren't like them.
Another good thing was that after I had earned my uniform, the folks of District Two started to see me as someone else other than the man from District Eight. Granted that it was mostly peacekeepers that saw me that way, but the hostility that had plagued me before was less intense.
There were still District Two civilians that couldn't believe that I had passed training, and they thought that I had somehow cheated, but it didn't really matter what they thought. I had passed. I had gone through hell and passed. And now, I knew better than to let their words get under my skin, because, what did they know?
"Lawrence?" A voice called out as the snapping of fingers in front of me drew me out of my trance. "You still alive, old man?" I chuckled a little bit before turning back to Quartz.
"You know it." I answered.
"Good, because I didn't want all my efforts to go to waste." I could feel the smile growing on my face as he pulled out some photos from his breast pocket. "I did what you asked for, checking up on your family I mean."
Quartz had recently come back from a tour in District Eight, and before he left for the tour, I asked him if he could see if my family was all right. He agreed, saying that he knew what it was like to go without family for a long while.
For me, it was going to be a very long while. And when he said that he was going to District Eight, I just had to know what they were up to, how they were doing without me. "They're doing all right." He said as he pushed the first couple photos towards me. " 's doing all right. Running a clothing store that actually gets a decent amount of costumers, and thieves. She recently found it in her best interest to hire a couple of civis to protect her goods after one too many thefts. Pays good too."
I remember the days. It used to be me that would chase the runts away.
Looking at the picture of my wife, short and dark haired, pretty, and tired looking, and thought of how we first meet.
My mother, after working in a factory for many years, was seen as someone that could move up in the ranks of the factory. Instead of being one of the low paying factory worker girls, she could move up and become a secretary that managed finances and that sort of thing. She was educated, and the managers finally took notice of her. It was higher paying job, and it meant that she didn't have to risk losing her fingers every day. She quickly agreed, as expected.
The problem though was that she needed something better to wear than the rags that she was so used to. So me, wanting to be the good son, and wanting a better life in general, went to the shop that was owned by the Varen's, and practically begged for that dress. I told them that I'd repay them back some day, told them that it was important that I get that dress for my mother.
The owners wouldn't budge, no matter what I bartered. It wasn't until one Janee Varen came to my rescue, telling her parents that a deal could be arranged. That I work for them for free, until the price of the dress had been repaid in full, plus interest.
Her parents didn't like the idea of me working in their up town shop. After all, I was of lower class than them. My family was poor, but we weren't starving. But there was still a noticeable difference between the oily clothes that I wore and the clean clothes that Janee Varen's family wore.
Her parents thought that it was a trick, but after some talk with their daughter, they eventually gave in and let me work with them, but always keeping an eye on me. They didn't need to worry though, I wasn't like some of the other poor people that resorted to crime. My family and I had been too worried about getting caught by the peacekeepers to try. That, and it just wasn't something that we really wanted to do anyway.
Much to my delight, my mother got the dress, got the job, and within about three weeks, we were able to pay the dress off. But I decided to stay and work with the Varen family, because working there was much more pleasant than working in a factory. And if I was completely honest, I liked being around Janee. She was nice and didn't look down on me like a rat.
We eventually got closer and closer, until we eventually got married. Her parents, while they still didn't like me all that much, didn't object. By then, my family was in the middle class, and we were all happy, more or less.
Touching the photos of my wife, working and stitching finishing touches on clothes, I found it rather amazing that we had actually gotten together. "Your daughters are also doing fine." Quartz said, interrupting my thoughts.
He pushed forward some more pictures, this time, two girls that were both eleven years old by now. "June and December Varen. Quite a pair they are. One's smart, and the other is good at athletics. One has lots of friends, the other doesn't. And the mother is more strict on the one that looks more like her."
"December?" I asked, pointing to the picture of December.
"Yeah, her." Quartz answered.
"Why?" I asked.
"I don't know." He said with a shrug. "I'm not a stalker of little girls."
"Thank ancestors for that." I joked with a smile.
"Yeah yeah, whatever." Quartz laughed as I looked at the pictures of my daughters.
I had left them when they were seven years old, and how they had changed since then. They were now bigger, growing into young woman. In one of the pictures, December was reading a school book, studying. I remembered her being a curious creature, and it appears to of done her some good. She was starting to look somewhat like her mother.
In another picture, June was running around with other kids, trying to grab a ribbon that was attached to their back. I remembered June being someone that was into athletics. She looked like she was having fun, and I was glad for that. I chuckled to myself, thinking that she was more ready for peacekeeper training now than I had been when I first arrived in District Two. While she had little of her mother's looks, she had some of my features.
"They've changed so much." I sighed as I looked at my little girls doing their thing. I wished that I could be there with them, reading to December and running with June and running the clothing shop with my wife.
"You think they've changed, take a look at yourself." Quartz then threw a photo on top of my daughter's, and in that photo was a man that I knew once. A man that had changed thanks to trying to be a good person. His name was, and still is, Lawrence Varen, but looking at the photo, I hardly recognized him.
The last time I looked at myself, I didn't look this soft, or that weak.
In the photo, I looked like an everyday family man with short and straight dark bronze hair. Light brown eyes of kindness and innocence with a well off body, by District Eight standards. Slender with some muscles, but nothing that was too noticeable.
The man that I saw in the mirror last night now had a completely different aura surrounding him. And the physical changes were just as noticeable. There were more lines across his face than there had been three years ago, his eyes were hardened, and whatever soft curves his face used to have were now roughed up. And his body was now in better shape than just about anyone in District Eight with broad shoulders and well toned muscles. He looked more like an old District Two career than the family man in the photo.
The man I am now looked more violent, unkind, and warrior like. Just like the peacekeepers that patrolled the streets of District Eight.
"Damn." I said with shock. "If I were to ever return to District Eight, would anyone recognize me? Would my own wife and daughters even recognize me?" I hardly recognized me. If they somehow see me one day, would they even know who they were looking at? Would they be able to see their husband or father, or would they just see another peacekeeper? The thought of somehow seeing my daughters, and them not seeing me, was a mental and physical pain that exceeded even that of peacekeeper training. The very thought of it made me want to cry.
"I'm not sure, Lawrence." Quartz answered honestly. "They're not expecting to see you ever again, and you left your daughters when they were seven. I wouldn't put it beyond them to recognize you, but there's still a big chance that they won't recognize you. Besides, what are the odds that you'll ever be able to interact with them again anyway?"
*Present day*
What are the odds indeed?
During my most recent tour of District Three, my comrades and I encounter a series of missing girls, all aged between twelve and fifteen. Nobody knew what was going on, and the case hit me pretty hard, having a couple of girls that were in that age category. I got too focused on that case for my own good, something that the other peacekeepers weren't doing. They were putting all their duties on equal ground more or less, while I was spending more and more time with that case.
I was getting too involved with the family members, trying too hard to solve the case, and as more than one of my comrades had said to me, it was taking a toll on my mind.
It was another one of the reasons why peacekeepers weren't allowed to have relationships, it was something to distract them from their overall duty. We were there to enforce the laws of the district, to protect the citizens of Panem, and make sure that the country kept on flowing. But one thing that they had drilled into us during basic training was that we were not supposed to get too close, or too involved, with the actual civilians of the district.
It was easy for me at first, but as time went on, it became harder and harder. I was too soft on most of the kids, and occasionally let people get away with petty crimes if I saw that they really needed to do the deed. Circumstances that reminded me of both District Eight and my family.
I did my best to be a serious peacekeeper, and about ninety nine percent of the time, I was. Being looked at with hatred by the civilians helped me remember that no matter what I did for whom, I wasn't one of them anymore. I found that I understood the peacekeepers just as much as I did the civilians.
The peacekeepers were not bad people, most of them doing it for money, because they needed a job, because they couldn't see themselves doing anything else back in District Two. They wanted to find a calling. After all, they had been trained for the games, and would have found life boring as a mason or a quarry worker. It was what they were breed for.
They were people, just like myself and anyone else that I encountered. I can't believe that it took becoming a peacekeeper to realize that. But then again, I was in a different state of mind back then.
But even so, even though the peacekeepers were loyal to the Capitol and to Panem, I was still divided between the common folk and the authority figures that I now called my brothers and sisters. I wasn't a civi, but I wasn't really a peacekeeper either.
Things would have been a lot simpler if I just minded my own damn business back home. But noooo, that stuff was too important for me to ignore, and I felt as if I had to do something, and this is where it landed me.
In the heart of District Three, trying to catch a kidnapper that adducted little girls.
I got a message from the head peacekeeper of District Three, saying that Commander Hurricane had shipped over some new faces for District Three, and that he needed me to take care of one of the new soldiers. And while I knew that it was them trying to distract me from the case, one of the things you learn during basic is that you follow the orders of those that are in charge of you. I took the new meat.
The kid that I had to look after was fresh out of basic training, and was only nineteen years old. His name was Marco Grey, and while he was a small kid by District Two standards, his attitude seemed to make up for it. He was foul mouthed and seemed to want to do things his way rather than the way others wanted him to do. I had a feeling that DI Breezy was not present during his basic peacekeeper training.
He was hard to get along with at first, but slowly but surly, I got him to calm down and learn to obey orders from those that were of higher rank. He was a good kid, dedicated, loyal, and while bitter, he was someone that I could count on. I got our head peacekeeper to put him in my squad. I liked him.
A while later, while my squad and I were out on patrol, we encountered a thirteen year old girl, bloody and bruised with clothes in tatters, running towards us, screaming for help.
I was the first one to reach her, and when I asked her what happened to her, I learned the fate of the girls that had been kidnapped.
My squad and I eventually made it to the lair of the monster, and found a horrific finding that made us all gag. It wasn't the sight of the decomposing, tied up bodies, or the severed limbs, or the bloody instruments that were laid out, or the gallons upon gallons of both fresh and dry blood that made us gag, it was the revolting smell that permeated the place.
Our criminal wasn't too smart, because he was in that room. Doing what I can't remember, the only thing I remember after seeing all those bloody and severed corpses of little girls was the memory of five of us peacekeepers fighting the sick bastard before tying him up and brining him over to our head peacekeeper, telling him what we discovered and waiting for him to give us the authority to perform a death sentence.
He went to the bastard's lair himself, and later got a call from President Frost, saying that we were to leave that monster alive and unharmed. There was outrage by both the public and peacekeepers alike, when we learned that he was to remain alive.
I was outraged myself, seeing at what Zap Philistone, who kept on insisting that his name was Tharizdun, had done to the district. If it were up to me, I would have shot that guy then and there, but it wasn't my choice, and there was nothing that any of us could do or say to change the president's mind.
Still, even though we couldn't kill him, we made his life a living hell. I mean, twenty seven victims, all girls between the ages of twelve and fifteen, raping them and taking a piece of them off before ripping their throat out with sharpened teeth. Burning his family home down so that they couldn't tell of his crimes if they ever did find out. Believing that he was a god and that that was what was protecting him from everything.
I laughed at his claims of being a god, some higher being was protecting him, but the president wasn't as high as the ancestors up above. I didn't know what the president had in store with him, but I had a feeling that it wasn't anything good.
And I was right. It wasn't anything good. Especially since my daughter was reaped.
Seeing her during the reaping re-caps made me wonder if those above us wanted to punish us because of what I had done eight years ago.
I thought that I had saved them by becoming a peacekeeper and not returning home, but I was wrong. I had saved them the shame of my deed, but I hadn't saved December's life. Fuck me in the ass with an assault rifle, my ancestors hadn't forgiven me.
Now December would never be able to grow up and live her life, all because of my stupid mistake.
What these people were doing to be right now was the least of my concerns. They could hit me, stab me, even shoot me, but whatever they wanted from me, I was not going to give in to their demands.
They managed to get me away from my comrades, and drag me into a room that was dimly light where the sun don't shine with solid grey walls and a cold floor that was soaked with water. They took my clothes away, and it only made the chillingly freezing air worse. I could hear the sound of a device that was venting in the cold air, and if it weren't for the warmth of the blood flowing out and down my body, pouring out of my mouth, and the pain that kept me from thinking about just how cold it really was in this room, I would know just how cold it really was.
Other than that, the room was mostly empty, save for myself being tied to a metal chair with tight chains that made my hands, arms, and legs feel like they were being crushed, and two other people. Capitol folks, as they weren't very good at inflecting me with pain and were wearing those ridiculous outfits of theirs. They hurt me all right, but they were squeamish about it.
There was a table of torture devices that they could choose from, but for the most part, they were worried about the blood and actually hurting me. They would yelp whenever they did something to me, and in general, they just didn't seem to be capable of doing much to me. Funny considering that those people practically lived for the Hunger Games, which involved kids getting hurt, bloodied, and killed. The worse the death, the bloodier the fight, the better. But they themselves couldn't handle doing the deed. Guess that's why they never had Capitol kids go into the games.
Even so, they managed to do some heavy damage to my body, even if it took them ancestors knows how long. Every part of my body hurt, and I'm pretty sure my left ankle, right hand and fingers, and maybe some other things were broken as well. I think some teeth were missing as well as I could feel something swimming in the lake of blood inside my mouth. Still, I wasn't going to give them what they wanted. They wanted me to take part in a job that I had no intention of doing. Nothing these pussies could do would change that.
"Leave us." A new voice called out, causing me to raise my head and look towards it. Whoever was talking was in the shadows, everything above their knees were blacked out because of the darkness. Her voice sounded high pitched, feminine, and child like. Who was that and how did she get in without making a sound?
"Yes Ma'am." The two voices said as one, a little too gratefully, before quickly running out of the room, thankful to not be doing the deeds that they had been doing to me. I didn't know wither to sigh in relief or not. I didn't, because for some reason, I had a bad feeling about this.
I heard the door to this room creak open noisily before it was repeated with an equally audible slam. That was when the new girl stepped forward, into the light. The sight of her was a shock to say the least.
Unlike the previous two, this girl looked more like she was fourteen or fifteen instead of being in their late twenties. With long, dirty blonde hair and skin that was a strange mixture of sick, slightly pale, and healthy, with a thin body, she looked more like a district kid than a Capitol one. She dressed fancy as well, though it was also more district fancy than Capitol. Suit, tie, dress shirt, dress pants and shoes, she looked like a teenager girl dressing up in her father's fancy outfit.
"It appears you've been uncooperative with my request, Lawrence Varen." She said as she came ever so closer to me. I found her child like voice to be somewhat unsettling. The hardness in her voice made her seem like a peacekeeper DI, something that a girl like her shouldn't be.
When she stopped walking, she was too close for comfort, and when she leaned down and looked at me right in the eyes, our foreheads almost touching, I could see that her eyes held nothing. They were empty, like her very soul had been sucked out of her body, taking every bit of emotion with it. As cold and hard as steel. "So I'll make this simple, for the both of us."
I then felt a sharp agony lance through the entire upper right section of my body as I felt something thick and hard squirm through the bullet hole in my chest. "I'm not like those pathetic gamemakers that were sent into torture you, and I know that no amount of pain will allow you to cave in to their demands."
I looked down and saw that the teenage girl had three of her fingers in my bullet wound. Her fingers were bigger than the wound itself, so my flesh was stretching, getting bigger, allowing more blood to spill. I didn't scream, but I did clench my teeth in an attempt to minimize the noise. "I have no problem doing this all day to you."
Then she pulled her fingers out, allowing the blood flow to resume at normal speed, but the torment she had inflected on me was still there. I let out a deep exhale of air, feeling the worst of the pain gone. "But again, as I said, it would do me no good."
Out of the top of my sights, I saw the girl lean back before she sat on my legs. A burning wildfire built up inside my legs as the weight of her fell upon me. This time, I did scream, because of the sheer agony that was being inflected upon me. She couldn't have been that heavy, but because of my injuries, and maybe because of a fractured leg, it felt as if this little girl weighed over two hundred pounds. It was not a good feeling to have this girl sit on my lap like I was her father about to tell her a story. "So here's the deal," She said with deadly seriousness. "You give in to our demands, or I'll make sure that your family never grows up happy."
"You can't do that." I challenged her, knowing that she was bluffing. She couldn't touch my family. She may be Capitol, but she didn't have that much power.
"Sure I can." She countered, wrapping her right arm around my shoulders. "It would be a simple matter for me to arrange for some District Twelve peacekeepers to be transported to District Eight, have them disguised as normal district people, and have them burn down your wife's clothing shop. But not before they all have a go at your wife and daughter, Janee and June I believe their names are? I wonder what their mental state of minds would be after getting gang raped by twenty psychotic men before seeing their entire future get burned before their eyes. And then, they'd have to live a life that only your side of the family has known, the poor side. Would you like them to fall back into what you lived like as a kid, Lawrence? Would you like that for your lovely wife and child? June isn't very smart, but she's still going to school because her mother can afford to send her. Her chance of getting a good job will disappear. She'd turn into your mother, if your mother wasn't educated."
"You can't do that." I repeated, knowing that her threats were empty. There was no way that she could do all that. Still, it shocked me to see just how much she knew. How did she discover so much about our history? "You are not an all powerful being."
"No." She told me in a not so disappointed voice. "But I am president of Panem, so I'm as close to one as I'll ever be."
Looking at this girl, claiming that she was President Frost, was almost comical. If it weren't for the situation I was in I might have laughed.
"You? The president?" I said in disbelief. "I highly doubt it."
"It doesn't matter if you believe me or not," She told me. "All that matters is that I do have the power to make the threats I make a reality. And why do you doubt me anyway? Is it because of my looks? Come now, you don't expect me to be all crazy in the head like a lot of the air heads of the Capitol, do you?" She then paused for a moment before she looked like she remembered something. "Speaking of air heads, escorts aren't that alert, and avoxes can't talk, and everyone needs to sleep." She then reached into one of her jacket pockets and pulled out something that was of dark chocolate bronze colour, very curly, and very familiar in material. Hair.
As soon as she pulled it out, I knew exactly what it was. "A piece of Ember's hair." She confirmed, waving it in front of my face as I felt blood drain from my face. "I could have easily disposed of her in her sleep, but I'm going to let her die in the arena. After all, the gamemakers answer to me."
The girl claiming to be the president got off my legs, and I swore I could hear popping noise occur. It was a relief though, all that weight of my legs. "So you better think about two things while I'm gone. One: Do you want your little Ember to have a chance in the arena, or no chance at all? And two: You saw the faces of those that were trying to torture you, try to see if you recognize their gamemaker faces." A pause came. "I'll expect your answer the next time I come in."
And with that, she began to leave. Her body getting swallowed up by the darkness until nothing of her remained but her footsteps, which eventually got quieter and quieter, until the sound of metal grinding on metal occurred. Twice. After that, I was alone with my thoughts and the dim lights.
I kept thinking to myself, no, she can't do what she threatened of me. But then I remembered that the newly elected president never did show her face on T.V, so for all I know, she really was the president. Looks be damned.
And now that I thought about it, I did recognize those faces, they were two high ranking gamemakers that sometimes appeared on Capitol interviews. Fuck! Maybe she really was telling the truth!
Damn! Damn! Double Damn! My family was at risk again. And this time, with a worse fate than before.
My daughter was going into the arena, and Frost could easily kill her at a moment's notice. I could give her a chance to live, even if just a slim one. It was better than allowing her to just die. After all, there was nothing I could do for her in the arena, so the best I could do was give her the best shot that she could get.
As for Janee and June, I did not want them to get gang raped, or have their shop set on fire, or live the life that my mother, father, and those before them had lived before the great change my family got offered. No. I didn't want them to live that way.
With all that thought of, I knew what my decision was going to be, and I couldn't help but cry.
Ancestors forgive me.
A/N: Did I do his history some justice? I don't know, it's up to you.
Before I leave for my vay-cay, I hope to post at least one more chapter. That chapter being the chapter before the bloodbath.
To ClovesShinyKnife: Thanks. Glad you like it.