The Stars
Title: Blood
Characters: Faiz, Kallisto, Cuan, mentions of the others
Word Count: 1,030
Warnings: Talk of remorseless killing, torture, etc. and assassins
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games and the inspiration for these characters comes from another series entirely. In no way do I endorse Faiz's life philosophy.
Notes: More about both Faiz and Kallisto!
017: Blood
People always thought that Faiz would be the one covered in the blood of his victims.
Correction: before they died people always thought that Faiz would be covered in blood.
The people who knew him (and that was apparently a dwindling number at this point in his life) also knew better than to expect him to be up to his knees in blood. The people who didn't know him either didn't know anything about him or would depart from this world before they could get a single thought across.
Shedding blood was, after all, quite unrefined. Faiz appreciated finesse and skill, not the disorganized flurry of murder and rage that was characteristic of the unexperienced.
It was simple enough to bash someone's skull in or stab him until he stopped moving.
On the other hand, it took a steady and careful hand honed by years of practice to slit a person's throat without them noticing until it was too late. It took skill to kill without shedding a single drop of blood, and without resorting to lackluster techniques such as drugs or strangulation.
And on the other hand, it took a great amount of skill to torture another person physically without losing them to blood loss or insanity.
Faiz did know how to do it all, naturally, but no matter how hard he implored the others, most of them just went for the quick and simple methods. As long as they left no trace evidence behind they were satisfied.
Cuan, of course, did understand Faiz's respect for the finer art of killing. Sometimes he discussed it with him over dinner or the rare times when they were all gathered together and Pyro was preoccupied with someone else.
Faiz, though, could never talk to Cuan at length. After all these years he would chance a guess and say that only Pyro and Penka had ever been able to hold conversations freely with the man. Everyone else kept their respectful distance.
It was normally Haakon who Faiz was partnered with, the loud and somewhat brutish man a bit of an eyesore, really. He was a good fighter, though, and that was what counted.
But he really, really seemed to like blood. Faiz would always walk straight out of the room when the guy returned, clothes splattered in blood and his own pristine.
When the group lost member, they immediately gained another. That was how it worked - people were as dispensable as trash. In a District like District 3 there was plenty of disparity and cutthroats, more than enough unique ones who would qualify for a position among them.
But it seemed that their leader was a bit pickier about such matters. Cuan always carefully thought about and selected the perfect candidate - although Faiz had his doubts about Pyro. The boy was honestly more of an eyesore than Haakon.
So when Cuan brought in a little brat who was barely even in puberty yet (kinda like Syarnark but so much like a girl that it was ridiculous), Faiz considered for a moment that age had addled the man's brain.
He never expected to take a liking to the kid.
Kallisto was quiet, like himself. He never spoke unless spoken to, and sometimes he simply ignored the world around him and retreated into his own mind. Unlike Pyro he followed orders obediently and never asked questions except for, "When?" and "Where?".
But above all, he was neat and clean like Faiz. Although they never spoke of their pasts, although they had no idea from what corner of the District Cuan had pulled him from, Faiz could discern a few details from his skills.
He was still a bit unpolished, but that would come with age and experience. At ten years old it just wasn't possible to match Faiz in skill or precision.
What he was able to tell about the boy was this much: he had to have been raised into such a lifestyle, and not simply having grown up in the junkyard like many of them had. The boy was too refined, too obedient, to have originated from such an ungainly place.
Really, Faiz had thought that family was a myth. Among those who specialized in killing for a living, executing the Capitol's enemies in the Districts for money or other such comforts, there was a popular story flying around about an entire family of professional killers. No one knew where they came from, if they were Capitol or not, and no one had ever seen them (or at least lived to tell the tale).
Most passed them off as mere fantasy. It was hard to believe the Capitol would endorse such a thing unless they were from the Capitol itself, and that was also impossible. Everyone knew what species those from the Capitol belonged in, and they were certainly not the cold killers of the Districts.
However, the longer Faiz thought about it, the more it made sense. Kallisto was skilled, far too skilled for someone his age. Faiz had been at that level when he was fifteen years old, and he was considered somewhat talented for his age.
The little boy looked plain, but that said nothing about where he came from. He moved delicately and with grace, as if executing an impeccable dance each time he walked. He didn't have the light, airy step that those who grew up in the junkyard had.
Even if the rumors were true, no one from their group was supposed to question another about his or her past. That only left the question of why the boy had left such a comfortable life behind for this.
He must have had everything - born fortunate, born lucky - and yet he would throw it all away and join a group of criminals who danced with death and were on the precarious balance of being eliminated and staying in the good graces of the Capitol.
Faiz kept his distance after his initial interest. They were perhaps too alike, too quiet to interact, but he watched from afar when he could.
He watched, and he did not complain about how messy and unrefined everyone else was so much anymore.