Chapter Four - Findings and Fire (Fractals - Three)
One Week Before the Reaping of the Annual Hunger Games
(Trigger Warning: mentions of suicide)
Captain Rhine Rhombus, head of the City of 3-1 Peacekeepers, had to work exceptionally hard to get where she was.
That is the extent of anyone's knowledge pertaining to her.
The claim, which their superior made whenever someone asked about her personal history, had been an object of doubt to many officers, but that suspicion quickly reduced to nothing whenever someone entered her office. Clean yet sparse save for her desk and the flag of Panem; whoever entered left with one piece of crucial information about her.
Which was, yes, she did, in fact, work exceptionally hard to get where she was.
Otherwise, she remained an enigma. She arrived here, fresh out of the Peacekeeper Training Center in 2-2, already stationed in the role of Captain after the previous one's passing. No one knew her, but at the same time, they knew better than to question it. No Peacekeeper questioned anything; that's just how it goes. As such, any idea of a misdeed, aggravation, or some sort of sin that she might've committed to obtain her position was disregarded, which left the supposed scoundrel to her own devices, sitting in her office alone, away from prying eyes.
To be entirely truthful, it must be said that yes, Rhine Rhombus is innocent of these false charges. She had, in fact, not committed any misdeeds, aggravations, or some sort of sin to get to her position. The works of the Peacekeepers' minds were merely figments of the imagination, stories told to keep the great monotony of District Three from getting to their heads. It was merely hard work that got her here, nothing less. She remained innocent, content with her position, one could think.
However, innocence and happiness are both very fragile notions.
If one was to see into Captain Rhombus's office at this very moment (which they most certainly couldn't, as she had removed the security cameras from the room shortly after her arrival), you would see her writing on an old, yellowed piece of stationary with a scratched and worn fountain pen. The pressure of each stroke of the pen had been thought of and preconceived prior; each letter was written in a scribbly, rushed look, as she continued to piece it together elegantly. She lifted the pen, inspected her handiwork, and nodded in approval. Yes, it would do.
"To whoever finds this paper, by the time you read this, I will be dead."
She glanced at the documents beside her. There were many of them stacked up in her tiny office, each delivered from various parts of the Station at exactly five-thirty in the afternoon by the little clerk at the front desk. Crime reports. She sighed. There weren't too many, but she would hope that there would be fewer now that she has essentially ruled over 3-1 for two years now. Perhaps she simply didn't have the power to stop these disasters. Arson, assaults, muggings–were the streets of her city this revolting?
Rifling through them, she pulled one out of the middle of the stack; one from a certain Laertes Saner, the Head Peacekeeper of District Three himself. Ah, so even he had a problem with her city. Perfect. Rhine rested her head on the desk and stared at the sheet of paper, before glancing at the clock. 5:10. In just twenty minutes, the clerk would come in with more crime reports for her to rifle through and waste her time doing. If this continued, she'd never get any actual work done. She'd never be able to take control of the situation.
She turned her gaze back to the paper, then after dipping the pen in a glass jar of ink, scribbled a signature at the bottom of the yellowed stationery.
The clock above her doorway ticked and tocked as she opened the bottom right drawer of her desk and delicately placed the stationary inside to dry. Five paragraphs of carefully crafted ideas, with the perfected tone of finality she knew was necessary. She corked the bottle of ink, careful not to get any on her pristine white gloves. She added them to the 3-1 Peacekeeper uniform when she first arrived in the city. The only action she's been able to carry through at all in the two years she's spent stationed there.
How much time had she wasted solving nothing but petty squabbles?
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick…
5:13 in the afternoon. She had seventeen minutes before the clerk arrived, and still, so much to go through. So much she had to do…
Tick. Tock. Tick…
The fountain pen had dried, so she placed it in the drawer. Lightly, she blew on the paper and inspected the ink on its surface. Paragraphs upon paragraphs of messy calligraphy, perfect words, and a predetermined message contained on a page. When she was certain that the ink was perfectly dry, she nodded to herself once more and then folded a crease halfway through. In that same drawer that she set it in to dry, an envelope was procured, and she delicately placed the stationary inside.
5:17 in the afternoon. She sealed the envelope and then patted it down.
It was done.
Tick…
She–
BANG BANG BANG!
The door, located opposite her desk, had been knocked on thrice, causing Rhine to quickly and quietly slide the envelope and ink into her desk, closing it afterward. Similar to the lack of cameras in her room, Rhine had been quick to install locks to her quarters and office upon her arrival.
"Captain! Open up, I've got something to show you!"
Rhine stood up, brushing off her uniform pants, then took an aggravated breath. If one of her officers had something to show her, they would file it to the clerk, who would bring it to her in a report, and from there she would decide on a course of action. If it were an urgent matter, they could call her during her office hours, or enter her office with a proper, dignified briefing. However, banging on the door, demanding to enter with something to show her, was not a regulated way to inform the Captain on a matter. She glared at the door.
"This had better be important, officer," she said, walking towards the entryway, "Or else you are in massive trouble."
She couldn't believe that she had spent two years here, and she, not once, was able to properly fix the training of these Peacekeepers. Most of them were much too disorderly and had no respect for her authority. It made her sick.
This whole city made her sick, and she had no way to deal with it.
She unlatched the lock and stood to the left to allow this disorderly Peacekeeper into her office, and immediately after opening her door to him, he stormed in and threw a child onto the hardwood floor.
…What?
"Get in there!" the officer shouted. Rhine could've sworn that he was frothing at the mouth, practically leaping at the chance to punish and hurt this… this random child whom she had never seen before. The child in question groaned in pain, doubled over with his (she was almost certain that the child was a young boy) eyes shut tight. His breaths came out stuttered and ragged as if this Peacekeeper had already leaped and taken his chance. That was not regulatory behavior. Even if this boy was a terrible crook, violence against the youth of 3-1 was strongly discouraged unless strictly necessary. Rhine scowled, then turned to the Peacekeeper, fist clenched.
"Officer," Rhine said. She kept her voice low and demanding, and the still furious man appeared to have some of the red clear out of his vision at this. Captain Rhombus was not a woman to be trifled with, and even a bull in a china shop would realize that.
"Yes, Captain!" the man said. He saluted, as was regulation when the Captain asked a question, but this did not quell Rhine in the slightest. Mentally, she made a note to investigate this disorderly officer. But she couldn't remember this particular Peacekeeper's name. Everyone in 3-1 looked the same to her with that dark hair and sickly white skin…
She put her hands behind her back and stood tall before him, causing the rouge Peacekeeper to slightly shrink before her stature. "Explain to me this instant why you have assaulted this young boy."
He blanched but stood tall the same as if he had not just been cowering before his Captain just a few moments ago. He raised his hand in a sloppy salute. "Y- Yes, Captain! We found this boy beyond the Western Wall, Captain!"
…oh?
She quirked an eyebrow, but all the same, found herself disappointed and completely unsurprised. The number one rule of the Peacekeepers was never to allow the citizens outside of the walls, and yet… her officers still found ways to let her down. A cold glare settled into her eyes, and the confident officer shrank away from her again. She pinched her brow and sighed, turning to the boy. That's when she noticed a very prominent red flag.
Or, to be more accurate, red hair.
This boy had a very distinct and messy mop of red (well, technically it was orange) hair upon his head.
That was unusual.
Most unusual.
She glanced at the Peacekeeper, an inquisitive look on her face. The man appeared to nod as if telling her that yes, it was true. This boy was indeed suspicious, and he was right to bring him in, his eyes said. Those eyes demanded praise. But she didn't know if he was correct yet, she didn't know if he was truthful. As such, she would first need further explanation.
Besides that, he still wouldn't get any applause from her. Rhine wasn't one to praise brutes.
Rhine turned her focus to the boy, the incredibly suspicious child lying in pain on the floor. She approached him, boots clicking against the hardwood, then crouched down on one knee to lock eyes with him. The boy's eyes were still sealed tightly, and even then he shielded his face from her, bangs casting a shadow over his forehead. So the boy had enough common sense to hide his guilt…
She took a gloved hand and raised his chin so that he faced her, even if he wouldn't open his eyes. She scrutinized the boy, sizing up his stature. He was… unnatural. Wrong. False. His attire was fitting of a Three boy, with a pair of loose, too-large, brown slacks and what used to be a white button-up before it was stained and tattered to bits. That was standard. But it looked almost like a child from another district entirely dressing up as a Three. His skin was pale, but there were freckles scattered like dust across his face. There was, of course, his hair. And while he was scrawny like the rest of the populous, she had a hunch that she wanted to try out.
"Open your eyes."
Immediately, the boy did so. She could see him breathing heavily, panic overtaking all of his features. She could feel some herself the moment he opened his eyes.
His green eyes.
Rhine's breath hitched. The boy must have noticed as directly after she did so, his courage ran out, and he closed those green eyes once more, looking down and to the right (getting his chin out of her palm) to allow his bangs to cover his face again.
The initial shock over, Rhine stood up, keeping a careful glance trained on the boy. She could see him tremble oh so slightly, the light of the setting sun from her one-way window catching on a tear rolling down his cheek. She kept her hands behind her back.
"Your name?"
The boy did not respond, instead curling up into the fetal position, breathing heavily. The Peacekeeper by the door slammed one of his boots on the ground, shocking the boy into opening those eyes of his as he gasped. "When the Captain asks you a question, you will answer her!"
Almost immediately, the boy sputtered out a response; a light and airy voice weighed down by his ugly sobbing. "V- Viridian! Viridian Circuits!"
The Peacekeeper inhaled as if to speak again (to say what, Rhine didn't know), but the Captain held up a hand to silence him, and he hushed. She nodded outside of her office, behind him. "Go and see if you can find this boy's file. And close the door on your way out."
He paused for a moment, seemingly upset that he wouldn't be here to watch Rhine dole out punishment. But he knew better than to argue with her, and he saluted the woman. "Yes, Captain!"
And as quickly as he came, the Peacekeeper vanished, slamming the door shut behind him. Good. The boy, Viridian, as he called himself, would not be easy to interrogate as a sniffling, sobbing mess. He had his eyes trained on the door, then snapped back to looking at Rhine. The woman was cautious. She was intrigued.
What an… interesting specimen. A green-eyed ginger certainly was a rare breed in Three.
A threat.
Unless this boy was simply unusual and odd, but nothing more, Rhine was certain that she wouldn't like what she would have to do with this child. But he… he could be dangerous. To Three. To her.
The boy's eyes followed Rhine as she walked over to her desk. Rhine was perplexed at the exotic nature of them, but she was not fooled or entranced. She merely sat down at her desk, folded her hands, and bore her eyes into the boy's head.
"Now then, Mr. Circuits," she said. Viridian began to pick himself off the floor, holding his arms around himself and shaking harder than the woman had ever seen anyone shake. She narrowed her eyes. "Explain to me, quickly and concisely, exactly what you were doing past the Western Wall."
The boy took a shaky breath.
It was time to get answers.
Viri didn't know what was happening. He didn't understand why he was here, he didn't know why the Peacekeepers dragged him out, he didn't know what to say, what to do, what to– what to–!
He felt a pressure build behind his eyelids again, but forcibly, he held them back, which gave him a massive headache. Usually, when he wanted to stop crying, he would only get a minor one, but he had been tossed and thrashed and hurled left, right, and center; so much whirling around the centrifuge that he felt as if he had been thrown off the merry-go-round of pain and down into an abyss of misery.
At least, he thought. Viri had never seen a merry-go-round in real life, only in some of the books from his Special Place. Did they really spin fast enough to send someone as small as himself flying? Or were they slow from friction to allow for a leisurely joyride? Either way, they sounded lovely. He would love to ride one someday.
"Now then, Mr. Circuits," the woman said, and he shuttered. Viri had heard of her from some of his neighbors. Mr. Tienamo from across the street was arrested once, he said. He said the Peacekeepers would order him to check into their station each month (was that where he was right now? Viri had never seen the interior before), and once he saw a frightening woman with black hair and tanned skin who the rest called "Captain." Was this her, the Captain? The scary man who had picked him up by the collar and dragged him here kicking and screaming said she was.
Ms. Wyfee next door said she had a cousin who was a Peacekeeper once. She would tell Ms. Wyfee a lot of stories about this "Captain," and Ms. Wyfee sometimes told the block about them at their neighborhood get-togethers. A fierce, muscular graduate all the way from District Two, put into the role of Captain immediately. She struck fear into the hearts of all Peacekeepers, they said. 'How did she get the role?' he would ask. The block would come up with many theories, some serious, some not. Maybe she sabotaged the competition. Maybe she forged the papers. Maybe she killed for it!
Viri knew that some of those theories were unlikely, but now, looking into those dark, dark eyes of hers, dark enough that the iris and the pupil blended into one, Viri began to wonder if there was merit to the thought after all.
"Explain to me, quickly and concisely, exactly what you were doing past the Western Wall."
He took in a shaky breath, and the Captain didn't flinch. She looked expectantly at him. She wanted an answer. Could he tell her the answer? Would she believe him? Could he lie? Viri didn't think so, he never had been a very good liar.
"I was just… I was just… uh…"
He did not like this.
The Captain arched an eyebrow at him expectantly. She wasn't like the man that took him here, she wasn't screaming and shouting. But she frightened him all the same.
Tick. Tock Tick. Tock. Tick…
"I was just at… my… er… my Special Place…"
That was the truth. Viri's mum would always tell him to tell the truth, and thus, he would. He saw no reason to lie to the Captain. He hadn't done anything wrong.
He thought.
The Captain narrowed her eyes, and Viri averted his gaze. It was as if she saw right through him, she burrowed her way into his brain and saw into his thoughts.
But not really. Viri might not have known it, but the Captain didn't know anything about his secrets, about him, in fact. He was afraid, but so was she.
Viri, once again, didn't know this.
The Captain sighed, pinching her brow and rubbing her forehead. Was she frustrated with him already? Viri knew that he wasn't the best at this, but he would've liked for it to have taken longer before she was fed up with him. Everyone was fed up with him.
"Alright then, Mr. Circuits," she began again, once again folding her hands neatly on the desk. Viri didn't want to look into those eyes of hers, those dark eyes, eyes beholding no mercy behind them. He glanced elsewhere, towards the window to his right, or the flag on the wall, or the stack of papers on the Captain's desk, or the almond powder next to it. Almonds… weren't those from District Seven? Why would she have a jar labeled "almond powder?" Wait, didn't Ms. Wyfee tell him something about the big, bad, Head Peacekeeper being from Seven? Maybe he just brought some from home–
"How did you get past the Western Wall?"
Viri shot back to attention. Right! Right, right right right, he needed to pay attention. He had no time to focus on anything else, he had to get out of there, to go home. What did she want next– oh! How he got past the Western Wall. Ah, that Wall. It was quite a big wall, he could understand why she'd want to know.
"Well, erm…"
Where could he start?
"You see, Ms. Captain–"
"Just Captain will do, Mr. Circuits."
"Oh– uh– Yes ma'am!"
She nodded, then rolled her wrist, as if asking him to continue. He gulped, wringing his hands and shrinking beneath her frigid stare.
"Well, it was… er, December 31st, I believe…"
…
"You see, Captain, it was, uh, it was about… er, six months ago?
…
"Oh, no Captain, I'm sorry, I know you know when December 31st is, I'm so so so sorry for implying that you didn't…
"Well, uh… anyways, I live kinda close to that, er, that big Wall thingie. 's pre'y big. Sometimes when the clouds are real low, I can't even see the top! Wait, does that make the clouds low or the Wall… high…
"OH! Uh– sorry, Miss- er— Captain. That's not what you asked about. RIGHT. So– um, it was December 31st. Our neighborhood likes to throw a lot of get-togethers, and we always throw one for the last day of the year. 's fun! Last time it was my mum's turn to throw that thingie. She saved all of her money for three months so she could buy us a nice 'lil cake! Then we played a lot of games and the neighbors talked… uh, a lot– a whole lot. It gets, heh, it gets pretty stuffy sometimes at those thingies. All the neighbors wanna hear about me and how 'm doin', and it's pre'y tiring…
…
"Oh yes, yes, yes yes yes yes yes– the uh, the Wall! The Wall… Well, after a while, I get pretty tired from all that talking, so I went up to the roof. We were throwing that thingamajigger at Mrs. Mincrotos's place, which is in that high-rise by the wall, so the door was right next to it. …Oh, yes, my mum was throwing it, but our house isn't exactly, well, big… And Mrs. Mincrotos usually lets us throw our things there because it's got a lot more room!
…
"Well, um, uh… I'm getting there, I promise!
"So, 'm on the roof, yeah? And I'm looking out at all the buildings and such and such and such… And uh… well, I saw…
"I saw this crack in the Wall.
…
"Well, uh, I thought you guys did it! I mean, after– after all, 's a thick Wall, and– and– er… who else could've put a hole in that big thing?
…
"So, um… the next day, I went over to the hole to take a look-see. And, well, I was gonna go tell my mum, but, uh… it was just so pretty…
"I mean– not that Fordanda isn't a nice town, it's got a lotta fun people– oh, what's that? …What's 'Fordanda?' …Uh… that's– that's what this city's called, innit? …'3-1?' Well, I know that's what it's… well, titled, but I don't… think I've ever heard someone call it that…
"Well, I just… this place was just so… magical! I mean, it was still mostly gravel for a while, but then there were things like… like trees! And– and flowers! And they were so colorful and delightful and amazing and–
…
"Oh… um… no ma'am. Captain! Ma'am? No no– I'm so sorry, er… uh, Captain. Yeah, I think that's right… Well, er, my Special Place was in there but it wasn't the place. Um, how should I put it– oh! 's like how everyone in Forda– in 3-1's from Three, but not all of the Threes are from 3-1, y'know?
"Erm… uh… anyhow! So, um, about aways a thataway– or– thisaway? Or– I don't know! I know the route but I don't know the route, y'know? 's pre'y inconvenient, my directional skills. But, uh, I managed to find this big row of buildings. A whole street! I think. It wasn't a town or anything, but, well, um, it was… there. I don't know why. A whole street of abandoned buildings in the middle of nowhere? And they were such nice buildings too… I think I could fit my whole apartment inside a single room! The size of those things!
…
"It was… odd. A whole row'a buildings out there, that's so weird! The whole place was covered in all the… all the green nature stuff! I thought they were houses at first, but then I took a look in there, and there weren't any house-y things. But they did have a lot of such magical things… Like books, books I'd never seen before! Oh– and a machine that played movies on a screen when I put a disk inside! It took a while for me to learn how to operate it, but I once attended that mechanical school on Bletuth Street, you know the one? So I managed to find out how it worked. And I'm so glad I did!
…
"Well, I… I'm sorry if I did something… wrong, Miss Captain– sorry, Captain! So sorry…
"Um… well, I never did tell Mum. I knew she'd tell me to stay away from there, but I just couldn't, not with all of those amazing things! I felt so bad for lying to her. I don't like to lie, it makes me feel really, really bad. And I love my mum, so much. She does so much for me, and 's been a hard long while on her; taking care of us both since Pa died…
…
"When I was two, why?
…
…
…
"O- OK! Well, I was just there earlier, at my Special Place. I kept on goin' back there from time to time, because… because who wouldn't? It's so green and blue and all of these colors you don't get to see here!
…
"Well, uh… that man and a bunch of your Peacekeepers– or actually, are they yours? 'm not quite clear on the termin- ter- terminlogo- on the words and such. …Well, they, they came into the Place while I was watching one of those movies… and they… they…
"They were real loud, and they dragged me 'n here. And they had guns, and– and they had, they had these things that shot fire…
"Ma'am? Do you think… do you think they burned it down?
…
"Oh… well… that's… that's a, a real shame then–"
…
The door burst open once more, and Viri clutched at his chest. He whirled to look behind himself, seeing… him. That man who had dragged him here! Viri took a step back, and the man saluted to the Captain, pretending Viri didn't exist at all. That was fine with him. Viri didn't want to exist to this man.
"Captain!" the Peacekeeper proclaimed, saluting again, "I've printed the boy's file!"
From behind his back, he produced a skinny, manila envelope, labeled with a little white sticker. He placed it on the Captain's desk, grinning like a madman (which he was).
The Captain arched a brow, almost as if she was skeptical. Why would she be skeptical? Viri was… concerned that for some reason, there were files on people, but since there were, he would have one, wouldn't he? She opened the vessel and out came only a few, measly pages.
Was that a lot?
She turned her head to the officer, still beaming, expecting… praise, maybe? Viri didn't know. The Captain folded her hands, looking at him with an icy, icy glare.
"How did you come across this boy this afternoon?"
The man saluted her, still smiling fiercely. "Captain! We came across a crack in the Western Wall during a routine patrol, Captain!"
She narrowed her eyes at him, causing Viri to shrink back. He did not like this. He did not like that at all.
"Were you not stationed at the town square with most of the Peacekeepers to set up for next week's Reaping?"
"No, Captain!"
She hummed to herself, closing her eyes in thought as she rested her chin on her fist. "You should have notified me before exiting the Western Wall's bounds."
The man ceased his grinning. "...Captain?"
The Captain sighed, waving a hand at him. "I'll deal with you later, officer. You are dismissed."
The officer raised his hand to say something, but instead just scowled. He clenched his fists behind his back, then stormed away, slamming the door shut. The Captain didn't seem to care, as she was now focused on the file, pursuing it with great vigor. Viri shuttered at this. That contained his whole life, all of it, and she simply consumed it as if she were a machine recording data!
She muttered to herself as she spoke. "...Circuits, Viridian L… fifteen years old… born April 7th…"
Viri couldn't move, couldn't blink, even. That was it? That was the extent of him? Who was he, even? Was he nothing more than a number on a sheet, a file tucked away somewhere in this labyrinth of the building? The Captain put the first sheet down and began scanning the second. Her eyes widened, and Viri's heart began to race in his chest.
"Mr. Circuits, you said your father died when you were… two?"
It took him a few moments to process that yes, she was, in fact, talking to him. He blinked, gasping for air as he rushed to formulate a verbal response. "Oh– uh, yes ma'am!"
"Who was he?"
Viri's rushing heart and mind suddenly felt as if they had stopped. He felt as if they hit a wall, or perhaps the surface of water that slowed everything down. The invisible drips of his internal sea of panic cooled his skin, and he shivered from the breeze of confusion rushing past. There was only one question in his heart.
"What?"
The Captain, instead of responding, held up the file, pointing her finger at one specific section of data. That was all he was to them, a number, wasn't he? His whole existence could be categorized into this easy to sort… data.
The font was small, and as much as he didn't want to, he approached the desk to read it, wringing his hands in worry as he did so. Squinting (and trying not to notice the Captain's omnipresent gaze), he could make out exactly what the Captain was pointing at.
FAMILY
MOTHER
-Saffron Lavender Circuits
-Formally named Saffron Lavender Silvers
-Female
-43 years old (born July 19th)
-File Location: 27.s.c.3-1L
FATHER
-Unknown
SIBLINGS/OTHER
-N/A
Viridian felt as if his heart stopped beating.
What on earth was this?! What didn't he know about his parents? His pa didn't exist? His mum once had a different surname? Why would she change it? Was that his pa's surname? What even was his name? Mum never once told him, she said it hurt too much to talk about the man.
"Well?"
The Captain put the paper down and now stared into him again. She meant business, and Viri knew it. He held himself awkwardly, his mind coming up with a blank. He didn't know what to say, and the pressure was on. He could inhale and give out an answer, but it was a shot in the dark, nothing but wind. His mind was an empty void, empty except for the growing fear. It scrambled for a response, but as much as it dug, it could only form a bigger and bigger pit in his stomach.
"I…"
The gaze intensified, and his anxiety grew exponentially. "Well, Mr. Circuits?"
"I don't know."
The ball dropped.
Without any warning, the Captain slammed her fist into the desk, causing a strangled cry to escape Viri's lips. The tears he tried so very hard to keep back began to surface again, and he staggered backward to keep away from the woman as she rose from her seat.
"Unacceptable!"
The Captain rose, and like a great beast, she towered over the boy. The sunlight from the window gleamed red, and as she came out from behind her desk, she eclipsed it entirely. Viri found himself tripping over backward on his feet, stumbling onto the ground with an "eep!"
For the umpteenth time, Viri avoided looking directly at the Captain. He didn't want to see those cold, dead eyes, he didn't want to see her look straight through him again. He curled inward on himself, shielding his face with his elbow. He had seen enough.
The Captain had not.
He lost his breath, gagging as the Captain grabbed his collar and violently hoisted him up to eye level with her. Viri sealed his own eyes tight. He would not see it, he would not see it, he would not–
"I know what you are, boy–" she said. Let him go, let him go, let him go– don't touch him!
Don't touch him!
She spoke in low tones, like some sort of wild animal ready to tear him into thin little ribbons, a mass of red and demise. Her teeth were gritted as she spoke. What had he done? Viri couldn't tell, he couldn't tell what let this happen. Why were they doing this to him?
Don'ttouchhimdon'ttouchhimdon'ttouchhim get your hands OFF of him!
Viri was sweating, and crying, and struggling so hard, yet he couldn't move against her. He fought against her grip, but it was firm just like the other man but worse. She held power in her fist, she held him as if she was holding a bug, and he could just as easily be crushed by her.
"You're not going anywhere, Viridian Circuits," she said. Viri struggled, kicking his short little legs at her, but every time he made contact it was like hitting a brick wall. "I know you're lying–"
(He wasn't lying.)
"–and you will not be leaving until you tell me everythi– AAA–!"
A strangled cry ran out through the air, and Viri ceased kicking.
In a moment of slow motion, the Captain's grip failed. Every second moved as million more as Viri felt himself fall and collapse back onto the floor, the ticking of the clock practically nonexistent as the behemoth before him fell backward onto her desk. The papers piled up behind her fell and scattered as she clattered and crumpled onto the ground, a great crash resounding as she fell with them, debris scatted throughout the room. He fell to the floor, crashing onto his side and rolling onto his back to face the ceiling. His ears rang and his head swam for a few moments.
Viri opened his eyes.
The woman was dazed, her pupils, as much as he could see them, retracted and unfocused as she violently clutched at her side. She stared at nothing, her breathing coming out strangled and hoarse.
He brought low the titan.
And with no more time to think, Viri got up, dashing behind him to the door. He slammed it, bolting through the absolute maze of a compound. He wouldn't dare think a thought about what just occurred. Not on the violence and the migraine he had picked up. Not on the man who slammed him into the floor and the Captain who picked him up from it. Not from the millions and millions of questions that he had, not about the fire that the Peacekeepers set ablaze in his Special Place, none of it.
He wanted to go home, hide, and never speak of this day ever again.
He ran, and he ran, faster than he could imagine he could. He ran down hallways and doorways, past strange routes he couldn't remember when he came in.
He came across the door made of glass, facing the street outside. The main exit! Viri dashed, sprinting to reach the way out. He was so close, so close–
But before he knew it, however, he came skidding to a stop, lurching to a hallway on his right and crouching his small frame down low on a stray doorframe.
Viri's breathing was heavy in his chest. In the corner of his eye, he could see the street outside, overlooking the setting sun looming high in the sky. It was there, it was right there!
But… he had also seen a lone figure, and with a shiver traveling down his spine, Viri realized exactly who it was.
There was the man, the man who had dragged him here, wandering the halls.
Viri's heart rate accelerated, and he struggled to keep his breath silent. Clutching his mouth so as to not make a sound, he felt his migraine return to him, tears stinging at his eyes and forming a pressure in his face again. The footsteps clack and click against the cold, hard floors of the compound. He tried to tell if the noises were getting closer or not. Light seeped through the halls, and Viri saw a shadow grow in the glow of the evening.
He weighed his options. He couldn't run, he couldn't go back down the hall; they'd see him. So what about the door? This one was open, to… a room Viri hadn't seen before. A strange room this was; dark, with gray screens displaying the various rooms of the facility. In some, although few and far between, Peacekeepers roamed the halls, and he shuddered. What would they do to him, had they seen him? And– why was the door open to this? Who would do such a thing?
Wait, one camera wasn't displaying the facility! What was that, he wondered…
He wandered closer, similarly to a moth and a flame. Then he went still, his breathing silent.
That was the Western Wall. They installed a camera on his street, overlooking his house.
But… but… what did that m–
"What are you doing at my post, boy?"
Viri gasped suddenly, whirling around to realize that he had slinked further into the strange room. The man, terrible and giant, loomed far above his head. He could not see his eyes. Viri thought that perhaps there weren't any; there were no eyes to behold in the shadows. He shivered, a sense of dread overtaking him. Was this where the man was supposed to be? Is that why the door was open?
The man clenched his fists, and without warning, swung downwards at Viri in a furious, primal rage. Viri's eyes shrunk, and he quickly ducked underneath the desk, shielding himself with the man's chair. The man stumbled, having missed, and quickly, without thinking, he bolted towards the desk, picking up the chair over his head. Viri panicked, shielding his head from the man. What was he to do? What was he to do?! He could– uh– hmmm…
He had no ideas, only reactions. Perhaps that was simply how he was. He had… ideas, but never clarity. He was never able to let go of his gut reactions.
Occasionally, this was a very good thing. Such as now.
He rolled to the side of the blow and watched as the man's chair whipped over him and slammed into the desk behind him. The buttons on the keyboard received all sorts of different inputs all at once, flashing different sights before Viri's eyes. Different city streets, different locations, different homes. The cameras were everywhere in 3-1.
Everywhere.
"Who do you think you are, kid?!" the man shouted to him, before raising the chair up above him once more. And he aimed to strike. But Viri knew better than to simply stand there. In a simple fit of panic, he had no idea what he was doing. But the man was aggressive, seeing only red. He never expected anybody to fight back.
So when Viri tackled him, though the boy barely made a dent in his stance, he still stumbled backward. And the chair, held high above his head, did the rest, causing him to fall.
Directly into the alarm bell.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
He cried out in agony as Viri screamed, covering his ears tightly as a loud, shrill tone careened into his fragile eardrums. The man lay on the floor in agony, and the rooms flashed with one color. Now the only one Viri could see as well.
Red.
Viri couldn't think. He had to get out. Now. Now. Now. Marching boots came from a direction, ever louder, ever stronger. He blitzed out of the strange room, only to see the same color. The entire room was bathed in red, flashing, and noise and red and flashing and noise and red flashing noise and redflashingnoise and noise and NOISE AND NOISE AND NOISE–
The light of the outside was tinted in the same crimson, but it faded as metal began to cover the tops, coming ever closer to sealing him inside. His eyes constricted further as his breathing increased in rapidness. The thumping was getting closer, as he had three options.
Fight.
Flight.
Freeze.
Now then, something very important that one must know about Viri is this:
He always chooses flight.
And in a mad dash for the doors, he practically forced them off their hinges, shoving them open as the metal sheets slammed behind him, sealing away the compound in a single swoop.
And he ran. He always would run, because he could never stop.
He ran away, whirling thoughts, whirling his existence in the air. He went down streets at random, down alleys and corners and bridges and buildings that all looked the same. Why did no one stop him? How did only that man spot him? He heard once that the compound was supposed to be filled with Peacekeepers, where were they?
Were they out and about, destroying his Special Place?
He skidded across the corner of some building, but as he ran down the street Viri's worn-through sneaker caught on a rock, and he stumbled, rolling across the black and coarse pavement. His vision blurred, and the warm, orange light of a street light shone above him. The sun was practically gone now, so this was all he had left to see. It spun above him in waves of light, painting his sight in bleary colors as the dizziness reached his consciousness.
Viri began to cough, and his adrenaline wore through. He felt a wave of fatigue running through him, and now he felt utterly winded. He gasped for air, but no matter how deep he went, it wasn't enough to satisfy his lungs.
He didn't know where he was, he realized, leaning on the streetlight to help himself up and dusting off his pant legs. The world was still constantly falling out from underneath him; spinning counter-clockwise, but he still knew that he didn't recognize this street. This was far from his house.
It didn't matter to him, though. No sirens rang out in the distance. The Peacekeepers weren't here.
…He thought.
Quickly, he realizes something, and he looks around the road. In the machine shop, they taught him much about cameras and other watching devices. What if they could see him right now? What if they could hear him? What if they were on their way?
He walked with caution, holding his chest in his arms as he wheezed, but try as he may, he couldn't spot a single camera. But there was no relief tied to this. Viri never paid any attention to his surroundings; who's to say there isn't a super duper secret camera he just– didn't know of?
Another step forward, and Viri could hear a commotion just around the corner. Where was he again? Oh– right, he didn't know. What street was this? How could he get back to Mum? Should he go back, given the cameras?
He shook his head, holding it tightly against his palms. No, don't think that! She'd be so scared if he went away, he had to go back to her!
He searched for a street sign, wandering down an alleyway as he held himself.
Viri peered down the lane, then blanched.
This was the Town Square. The place the bulk of the Captain's Peacekeepers were sent to set up for… for that Reaping thingie. They were mostly here, and doing those patrols, and–
Oh no oh no oh no oh no–
He turned the corner once more and began to run.
He would never stop running.
Her ears were ringing. The ground had abandoned her, and she felt herself falling into the void. Her hands lost her, and they let go of the boy. Where he went, she didn't know.
The boy had struck true, his foot making contact with her side. An unimaginable, blinding, searing agony rippled throughout her being. She only managed to form one coherent thought as she grasped at her side, at the wound he dared attack again.
Which was that he got very lucky.
She didn't know what time it was. Her consciousness floated away, time escaping her being. The world was muffled behind a pane of thick glass that she couldn't see past. Only one noise made it to her.
Tick… ..ck… Ti…k… Toc…
Her ears wouldn't stop ringing. What was that… what was that incessant… incessant… noise…
"...tai… Capt… …tain!"
Who was that?
Wait…
Where was the boy?
And all of a sudden, she could breathe again, and she gasped. The world came back into focus, the greyscale colors of District Three shining with a clarity she couldn't recall ever seeing beforehand. A short little man stood above her, holding a few papers in his grubby hands. The clerk. With a vengeance, she stood up and towered over him like a wild beast, not caring for her ragged and messy appearance. She looked wild, she looked feral, but the clerk stood back all the same, as she looked commanding.
"WHERE IS HE?! WHERE IS THE BOY?!"
The clerk let out a weak cry in her presence, clutching the papers to his chest as he tried to speak to her. "W-w-whatever do you- do you mean, Captain?"
Rhine clenched her fists, stomping a booted foot on the floor. "You let him escape?!"
"L-let who, escape, Captain?"
The clerk stood backward, pressing the papers ever closer to his chest as the Captain screamed, a terrible, primal noise that displayed more anger, more wrath than he ever wished to see in his short, short life.
She turned around, slamming her fists on her desk. He was gone. The threat not only managed to escape, but no one stopped him! Everything on her desk was askew, the paperwork having fallen to the hardwood below. The boy toppled her, he mocked and made a fool out of her. And yet– yet no one stopped him! No one bothered! He simply walked out of there as if he owned the city! No. She did, but no one cared!
She picked up a small jar that had collapsed, a small vessel of almond powder from the Commissioner, and gripped it with all of her might. That Commissioner… didn't care for any of this. What did he even do, if he wouldn't train his officers? He simply sat around all day, drinking his tea with almond powder, thinking about home…
"You're useless…"
The voice of the clerk spoke up, and she almost jumped, as she had forgotten that the mouse was even still there. "W-what did you say, C-Captain?"
She snapped.
She threw the jar back onto the desk, and while it clattered unscathed, the clerk still jumped at the noises. "ALL OF YOU ARE USELESS!"
Rhine stormed out of the room, shoving the clerk to the floor and locking the door so he couldn't reenter. (Even now she wouldn't dream of allowing anybody to see her work.) With hate in her mind, she blazed through the hallways, not a single Peacekeeper in sight that could've intersected the boy. Really? Really?! Did the fools who worked under her not place any guards at the door? This was why this city was in shambles, this was why!
Damn that Commissioner, damn him!
When she found her Peacekeepers, they were standing around, and… why was the metal gate down? Had the alarm gone off in her absence?
There was a large commotion surrounding the Peacekeepers there, and, without another thought, she approached a scrawny young officer in the process of unbolting the door from its deadlock. Around her, the Peacekeepers parted like the sea itself for her to make way. Some looked at her in terror as they scurried away. Others, respect. Some, scorn… oh, how she would fix that miserable little issue soon enough.
But the Peacekeeper, the one unlocking the gate at a miserably slow pace, didn't notice the Captain until she took her by the shoulders. She was stunned for a second but mostly unperturbed, until her world fell into dizziness as the Captain spun her around to be face-to-face. The Captain was a foot taller, glaring down fire into the eyes of this young Peacekeeper. And yet, this girl was completely unfazed, staring right back up with apathy.
She didn't care about her. She didn't respect her.
"What is the meaning of this?! Where is the boy?"
The silence was palpable, quieting everyone in the room instantly. Taking a moment, the Officer pondered the question, but then tore herself out of the Captain's grip, going back to unbolting the door. The Captain clenched her fists. There was a hint of… disgust in the Officer's face.
"He's out there. 'm working on it, Caps," she said, and the gate was unlatched with a click. Nonchalantly, she lifted it into the air, causing it to rise back into the ceiling, revealing the door, swaying open in the breeze. The Captain gritted her teeth, and was about to reprimand the girl for being so… callous to her, but she interrupted her, "But don't expect to find him, Eins over there fell over and broke the cam room. We don't know nothin' about where he went."
The exit remained open, the doors swinging in the wind. Her Peacekeepers just stood there, doing… nothing at all. They couldn't just automatically raise the gate, because of course, Laertes wouldn't update their compound, why would he?! Why would he be bothered?! And that Peacekeeper from earlier… Eins… just broke… all of their equipment. And on top of that, he escaped. Viridian Circuits was gone.
…
No.
No, she wouldn't allow that, she would not allow that!
"You damn idiots…" she muttered, under her breath, and suddenly, she whipped back over to the congregation of Peacekeepers surrounding her, stomping her boot on the tile with such force that they all stepped away, as if affected with a shockwave.
"NONE of you know how to do your damn jobs!" the Captain exclaimed, and she inched forward toward them, everyone, even the uncaring and loathed, stepped back, shocked at the outburst, "Let me guess, the Commissioner told everyone to go to the Reapings, so now nobody's on patrol to stop the boy? Is that right?! Huh?! HUH?!"
…
…
…
"Of course…" she muttered, and with such vitriol that she practically spit acid onto the floor.
She whirled back to the Officer at the door, now staring wide-eyed and mouth agape. Good. She'd deal with her and… Eins, whoever that was, later, But for now, she shoved the Officer out of the way, sending her tumbling to the floor. No one came to help her.
"Since none of you can do your jobs–!" she shouted, turning her head to face the crowd, "I'll just have to do it for you!"
The Officer was getting up, rubbing her side as she leaned up against the wall. The Captain pointed at her directly, causing her to flinch ever so slightly. "And YOU!"
She brushed off her pants, wincing. "...uh, yes Captain?"
"Tell Laertes to be in my office by the time I get back."
And with that, she was off.
Not caring for her untucked uniform, she power-walked out of the building, the wind warping around her, a force of nature. Any citizens wandering the streets rushed indoors at the sight of the mad Captain.
She tracked the ground, for muddy footprints, for signs of struggle, for anything that could lead her to the boy. She hunted him through city streets, down alleys and corners and bridges and buildings that all looked the same. She would find him. She MUST find him!
Dispple Avenue. That is where she found it.
Now, fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on the perspective), it must be said that on this night, Rhine Rhombus, the Captain of the City of 3-1's Peacekeepers, did not, in fact, find the boy known as Viridian Circuits. Their paths had crossed briefly, ever so briefly, ever so crucially, but they would not be crossing again that evening.
On the street where Viridian was just a few minutes prior, Rhine found herself panting, the dark, cool summer night freezing her to the core. She gripped the streetlight for balance, her side still throbbing. Her head shrieked in agony from the pain, but she willed that down with a shaky breath.
He had dared to strike her… there.
That was forbidden. That was something that no one had ever dared to do, something that no one but her old instructor in District Two would ever know of. And yet…
She gritted her teeth. Lucky shot.
And… that was where the trail ended.
She didn't want to admit it but it was completely true. The boy's muddied shoes had cleared off, and the streets were cleaner here, meaning less footprints, less scurried trash, less… evidence…
No, no–! That couldn't be, it wouldn't! That boy was proof; proof that her City wasn't secure. Proof that they had infested her waters. Proof that those dirty, dirty, enemies of the State were here. Proof that what she had worked for was going to be torn into something… more.
She had enough to deal with already.
And the boy… wasn't… here!
What could she even do now? she thought to herself, and paced through the streets. One of her Peacekeepers destroyed the records of the day; they couldn't track him down. They had his file, sure, so they could find where he lived, but if she was to cause a big commotion, bigger than the one she already had, people would… speculate. And those dirty, dirty Enemies would intertwine themselves further with her. Further! No no no, the only further she wanted was to keep them further away from her. Her City was all she cared about, not conspiracies or anybody else. She just wanted her City. That was it.
And as long as that boy remained…
As she paced around the street, the night illuminated only by the orange and ethereal light of the streetlamps, surrounded in their halos of gold as the road was seen in the negative space, she could hear, down the road, signs of Peacekeepers– more Peacekeepers that failed to keep the peace. Their work was… important, perhaps.
Or perhaps not.
They were like ants, she thought as she surveyed them. All of them moved in wildly different directions– crawling around the cracking asphalt and stone as pillars of wood and banners were erected. Laertes enjoyed these Games to a disturbing level, and it was evident in the sheer amount of 3-1's personnel that were sent here. How many were relocated to overlook this sight instead of stopping the crime in this City? How many were there to just watch instead of stopping teenage criminals?
…not even that. She took a look at their faces. Each and every one of the ants was smiling, dancing, and passing a glass in a paper bag around, each swigging from it. Their lines were disorderly, their faces covered in intoxication and glee, and not the attention needed to protect 3-1. There was laughter, singing, joy, but not a care in the world. In fact, she stood right there, in the middle of the street, and not one Peacekeeper had noticed her, their superior. Disgraceful. She wouldn't be surprised if this Reaping burned to the ground on their watch.
The boy. The crime. Laeretes and his Peacekeepers… so many problems, so many issues taking away her time and attention. Eating away at her hard earned freedom…
Was there nothing she could do to fix it? Nothing? Was it all hopeless?
She watched as the great flag of Panem glared at her from the pillars erected. How it taunted her being, the insignia ten times bigger and brighter than her career. She had worked so, so very hard to get here, to emancipate herself, to start fresh… just to end up here. Powerless, with the worshipped flag staring her down. One that could cost her the very security and safety of her City, because her officers cared more about hanging it up than hanging traitors. What was the point of all this? Once a year, this all came to town and disrupted the order…
…
… …
… … … …wait.
A thought bubbled in her head as she surveyed the scenery, a heinous, dirty thought. At the flag and stage staring her down, ants crawling about and drinking without a care in the world. And a particular crack, one in their defenses, came to mind, and she glanced back at that stage. Her mind's eye could see it, it could see red hair and green eyes standing above her Peacekeepers, eclipsed by the flag of Panem as the train came into the station and whistled its ominous noise to signify that it had come to perform the namesake of the event.
Oh, it was a very bright thought. It was cruel, but it would work.
And then the world exploded into color.
Before any of them could react, any of the ants, or the Captain herself, the flame had already consumed the pillar on the left, bright orange flickering in a shine of terrible glow as the wood, dry as could be, suddenly was consumed by the force of chemistry. There were gasps, screams, and shock reverberating through the whole side of the crowd, and they all scrambled to escape as the supports failed and it came crashing down.
The Peacekeepers became a congregation of white, a wave moving out of the way of the falling pillar. An officer dropped a glass bottle in the panic, shattering it on the concrete.
For a moment, as the fire roared, and the crowd ran away from the danger in the center of the clearing in fear, she stood, transfixed, staring at the bits of glass. Tiny and sharp… dangerous… and yet they just had this on them. Yet…
She could not even grasp the full might of the incompetence. Her trigger-happy, yet lazy, overwhelmingly supportive, yet aloof and despising of her… troops. Whether they loved her or hated her they would let her down. No matter what, they'd never live up to her expectations, they'd somehow find a way to leave her drowning in disappointment.
Her fist clenched so tightly that the leather of her gloves began to tremble. A tear streamed down her cheek, but not of sadness.
And as the flag burned, stranded in the center of a sea of asphalt and shell-shocked officers, she stormed through the center of them, right towards the inferno. All eyes… on her.
But she was not loud and bright like the dancing hues of scarlet, she was cold. So cold that the heat of the fire, painting the skies of Three gray wasn't felt. So cold that they felt a chill of ice as they realized just who was there to see their shortcomings. Just who was there, standing right over the fire.
There was a man, in the white uniform of the Peacekeepers, standing slack-jawed and looking into the flame. The Captain went straight to him, footsteps hypnotizingly slow against the pavement, and with a cool, swift, motion, she took him by the jaw, and, deliberately, shut it tight. And while his body was froze in ice, he stared forward, into her dark, dark eyes…
He had never seen so much fury in a pair.
She spoke softly, but it was nothing if not deceptive.
"Who is responsible for this?"
The Peacekeepers around him backed up, focused on the stalemate instead of the flag burning away. The Officer wanted to run, he wanted to escape her terrible grasp, but she locked eyes with him, her every emotion conveyed in uncanny detail with just a glimpse.
He could not speak. He could not move. No one could, no one at all, for a short instant. But even when that instant passed, all that happened was some Peacekeepers wringing their hands in anticipation, and others, the bolder ones towards the back, sneaking out of the square via a back alley so they couldn't be spotted. And it remained this way for an elongated instant.
Until a girl fell at the Captain's feet, crumpled.
Her attention momentarily taken, she let go of the Officer's jaw, and he stumbled backward as she turned to her left, down at the girl lying on the pavement where she had been carelessly tossed. The Officer then slipped through the remaining Officers and into the crowd, hoping not to be seen.
A Peacekeeper stood above the girl, nervously, and moved a shaky hand into a salute. "I- it was her, Captain! We found matches in her pockets!"
She took a step back, and rifled in her pockets until she pulled out a little green box, with little pieces of wood falling to the concrete as she did. She held it in front of her face, squinting and hiding it away from view. But the Captain merely snatched it up, walking over the young girl, and then stared directly at the young Officer. Young… inexperienced…
Untrained…
"No…" the Captain said, voice barely a whisper. The Officer opened one eye to look at her, voice warbling in terror as she spoke again.
"I- I beg your pardon, ma'am?"
"NO!"
And she slapped the Officer across the face at that, sending her to the ground as the fire roared. No one came to help her.
"This is ALL of your faults! ALL OF YOU! EVERY LAST ONE!"
She prowled at them in a circle, staring down each and every one. The girl just lied there, doing absolutely nothing about her situation.
Because she'd still be here no matter what she did. Struggling was pointless.
The Captain continued her stalk, but… had nothing else to say. Not to them. What could she say? They were terrified, they were uncaring, they were aloof, they did not give a damn whether or not they succeeded or failed.
Only one man had the power to change that.
It was time to do… it.
So she whipped back to the Peacekeeper on the ground, crouching to eye level and took her by the collar. Once again, no one dared to help her.
"Let me make myself very clear," her voice was quiet but heard by all. "This is unacceptable. Unacceptable!"
She dropped the Officer back down, causing her cheek to hit the asphalt. She clutched at it as the Captain stalked away, taking the girl by the arm. She was limp, her eyes dead. On another occasion, the Captain would have cared about her.
But she had a meeting to get to.
She glanced back at the bleeding Officer, who flinched as the Captain looked at her, and again as the girl landed at her feet.
"Put her in the Station's hold," she said, then projected her voice so that not just the Peacekeepers, but perhaps the whole City could hear her.
"I expect this all to be repaired as if it had never happened by tomorrow morning!" her proclamation said, "And I'll deal with you all… later."
She stormed off the same way she came.
And the ants, as soon as she left view, got back to work.
The Officer was perplexed by the girl in the cell.
Usually, when dealing with heinous criminals like her, they'd scream and fight back as their belongings were taken to the back. They'd get angry and they'd tell the crew to let them go, they'd kick and shout and fume and be full of emotion as they were delivered to justice. They were always loud and obnoxious and… uh… whatever the opposite of the word calm was. Rhombus, probably. It was especially the case with teenagers, and especially the case with violent ones. Which was what this kid was.
And yet…
As he watched the girl, she merely sat, hands crossed on her lap, staring into the middle distance.
Their cages were empty, for the most part. As was the whole of the facility, at the moment. The Captain was constantly complaining about their lack of expertise. About the lack of "initiative" that the Peacekeepers of 3-1 had, apparently. He wasn't sure if that was true or not– after all, he wasn't at the Reapings when this girl got to them. But did it even matter? Laertes was never this picky; he was so glad that he was still in charge…
It didn't matter. He wasn't the one who let the girl in the cell start the fire. He wasn't the one who broke the surveillance room by dropping a chair at a child, meaning that they'd have no way of tracking down that redhead the Captain wouldn't shut up about. No, he was just the guard watching the cell of the arsonist.
A rather unnerving arsonist.
She was so calm. She didn't shout or complain about where she was. She just sat there as if nothing had changed. Usually, that was for multi-timers, who had been in this room time and time again. But this girl was a new face.
He didn't know what to think about that.
There was already a lot of crime in 3-1, and the youth were no exception. But what really got him going was how far this girl went. Most her age were arrested for petty crimes and placed in their real prisons on the other side of the city. This room? This was for the worst of their worst. The traitors, the murderers. Arsonists? Well, not usually. And not usually with youth, as well.
She just stared into the middle distance, completely calm, despite committing an act so horrible.
From his spot, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, he scrutinized her. She didn't look particularly out of the ordinary for a Three. She had that pale skin, and those dark eyes… and while her black hair was much curlier than the average citizen's, it wasn't anything to raise an alarm. She was the epitome of average, or at least she would be if she wasn't here. That still perplexed the officer the most.
Why would she do something like burning down the Reaping?
He didn't actually care; he was mainly here for the pay benefits. But the Captain was angry right now. Probably yelling at Commissioner Saner again about how "lazy" and "unethical" all of them were. So? They did their jobs. She was just a madwoman who needed everything to be perfect.
Not that he didn't want to be on her good side… she was… well, not pleasant to deal with when she was angry.
Still, after throwing the girl in there, and also after that spat about the ginger kid, Captain Rhombus insisted that he interrogate the young lady. It was his job after all.
But what exactly did you say to someone who hasn't spoken since she was put in handcuffs? More importantly, what exactly was there even to know? She was a radical, probably, based on her crime targeting the Reapings. OK, so just let her rot in jail! Case over!
….no, not quite. There had to be an accomplice, didn't there? Family, friends? Who else could know of her behavior and take responsibility for her?
…he supposed that was a good excuse to start. But what to say? What to say…
"Hey," he started, and instantly regretted it. What kind of Peacekeeper started an interrogation with that?
Still, she ignored him, and that aggravated him. Weren't Peacekeepers supposed to be respected?
"Hey," he repeated, a little sharper this time, and he grabbed the cell bars. There was a flicker from her eyes, like a spark from a machine scraping metal. A glint of activity behind those thoughtless eyes…
"'m talkin' to you, you know, kid!"
And she fluttered her eyes to him.
She did not move her head, merely her eyes to glance upwards at him without changing her position in any way. He held back the cold feeling this put in him. After all, she was just a kid! What… what was there to be afraid of?
She did not speak, but narrowed her eyes, as if to tell him to continue. He shoved down that chill again as he gritted his teeth at her.
Where to start…
Or, more accurately, he didn't want to talk to this weird kid. She gave him the creeps. If he could just get a name, then he could look up her file on their database and find her parents. They'd probably be easier to crack than her.
"What's your name, kid?" he said. No beating around the bush, he didn't care.
She blinked at him.
.
Then looked away.
.
…!
He banged on the gate again, as if to get her attention, and this time, her whole head turned to him.
But before he could speak up to her, she went first.
It was a raspy noise, quiet and full of error. It has an odd, distorted effect about it, robotic, yet completely raw and organic. There was nothing natural about it, but nothing man-made about it all the same. Crafted out of something not meant to be seen.
"...you want my file…?"
He hesitated.
But then quickly snapped himself out of it. Focus! This wasn't some murderer, or Captain Rhombus! This was a small girl! He could take her!
"Classified, kid," he told her, then took a step back, "now give it to me. Things might get messy if you don't, I heard you made a mess out there."
She blinked.
Then turned away again.
"...don't bother…" she rasped out, "...I am alone…"
"That's what they all say, kid."
He leaned down to eye-level, scrutinizing her. Then spoke once more. Maybe he was impatient; he wanted to go home now. His kids would be missing him, he didn't have time to deal with miscreants.
"Now, you're a dirty little lawbreaker," he told her, a patronizing accusation thick in his voice, "and that means that you're going to tell us what we need to know, or there will be consequences."
She cocked her head at him.
"...like what…?" she said.
He raised his voice as if to speak again, but she went first.
"...would you hurt me…?"
The question went over his head at first, but the gust of wind it brought winded him quickfast. It shoved him against the wall, metaphorically.
…of course they would. Maybe not him specifically, but some Peacekeepers, like that Eins guy that broke the room earlier, certainly would. And what was the problem? She looked seventeen, practically an adult, she knew that her actions would mean something. You don't just burn down the Reapings on a whim.
But her eyes… those gray eyes… they looked exhausted. They expected pain and dread.
They gave him the shivers.
"...would you…?"
They reminded him of his own kids. In the worst possible way.
.
.
.
…no! He needed to stop letting her deceive him! He had a job to do, and kids to feed and tuck into bed! He didn't need to deal with this!
"Look, kid," he managed to say, "just tell us what we need to hear, and it'll be fine, 'k? Why'd you do it?"
.
.
.
.
The girl stood up, staring at the wall of her cell pensively. She was perplexing, a walking oxymoron. Everything she did looked as if there was not a thought in those eyes, but as if she knew everything. Innocent and guilty.
Her words did not help distinguish this.
"...it's just a cycle…"
He quirked a brow. "And what's that supposed to mean, kid?"
She stopped walking, staring straight into nothing, hugging her arms to herself.
"...you couldn't understand…" this time the words were just a whisper, "...I don't even understand…why…"
.
…what?
What was she talking about?
"Are you alright, kid?" he asked. She seemed out of it. Was she on pills? Did she run out? Was this why she burned down the Reaping? She sounded crazy, her words made no sense. Cycle? What cycle? "Did you forget your medicine this morning?"
"...I don't have medicine…" she sat down again, "...I don't have anything…just the cycle…"
He squinted at her, trying to make sense of it. Yeah, she was definitely an untreated case. It was unlikely they'd get anything out of her. Hm, shame.
Not really. It meant he got to get home in time to make his kids dinner tonight. Another reason he was glad that Laertes was in charge: he'd never see them if Rhombus was.
"She's loony," he whispered to himself. And he prepared to exit the room—
But her head shot up at him, and suddenly, without any warning, she blitzed to the gate in a blink of an eye, rattling the bars so hard that he shrieked and stumbled backward onto his rear.
"I'm not crazy!" she shouted from above him, and her eyes, once unfocused, pierced his skull in half, "I'm not the crazy one! I'm the only one who knows the truth! The truth is hidden from you, the truth about the cycle, about the world, about everything! It's a constant rise and fall! We rise, we fall, over and over and over again! How many times has it happened? How many times will it happen again?! How many times must—"
"ENOUGH!"
He didn't mean to shout that loud, but her eyes retracted, and after a moment at his anger, she trembled, letting go of the bars and quietly retreating back to the bench.
She put her hands in her lap, staring forward. If it weren't for that look in her eyes, it would be as if she had never spoken at all.
…
.
.
He got up.
He took out his radio, looking her in the eyes the whole time, then switched it on, staring at the door.
"She's incomprehensible," he muttered to the other end of the line, glancing back at her, "She keeps on saying nonsense about cycles. Won't say a word; I'll have to try again some other time."
When he left the room, it was as if nothing had changed.
The door closed behind her, and she clicked the lock. A shadow covered the top of her face. And despite the window being one-sided glass, she still shut the blinds in case a silhouette was seen behind the reflections. No one would see this conversation. No one would hear this conversation. No one would know the ending.
"There's no need to act all mysterious, Rhine."
She was quick to answer, staring the old man in the face with the sharpest glare, "That's Captain Rhombus to you."
There was a chuckle, and the old man stopped stirring his tea for a moment, setting the mug down on top of some of the scattered papers that she had yet to clean up from the boy's escape. Afterwards, he flickered his eyes up to her, neatly folding his hands on her disorderly pile.
"Alright then, Captain," he spoke, eyes slightly narrowed, "care to tell me why you insisted that I come down here this late at night?"
She leveled a glare. "Get out of my seat, Commissioner."
Commissioner Laertes Saner, Head Peacekeeper of District Three, was an older man, one of the oldest men in the force. He was covered in wrinkles, but did not look withered, his hair was white but not seceded. And he did not look at her, instead taking a look at some of her papers.
"My my… someone didn't complete her workload for the day, did she?"
And Rhine had had it with this old man.
She slammed her hands on the desk, snarling down at an uncaring Laertes as the tea in his mug wibbled a little, spilling brown drops onto her papers. He whistled, picking it up and taking a sip, then setting it back down onto the ring of liquid left on the page.
"I've had it with you, Saner!" she exclaimed, "This wouldn't be a problem if you just did your job and trained your forces! We wouldn't have so much paperwork if you just–
"No need to get so feisty, Captain!" he interrupted, but there was no humor in his words, "In fact, I think I've had it with you!"
She stood back for a moment in exasperation as he casually took another sip of tea, then grimaced at its bitterness.
"Hm, I didn't put any of my almond powder in here yet…" he mused, "do you still have that jar I gave you?"
He glanced around, then grinned in glee as he spotted it, pouring a generous helping of it into the tea and stirring it back and forth.
It was at that point that Rhine found her words again, gritting her teeth as the spoon clicked on the ceramic. "Do you even take this job seriously?!" she spat, throwing her hand in the air. "There is crime all over the streets, and our troops never spot them before they happen! They need training, rules, and regulations! Why are there none here that they abide by?! Where is the justice?"
The spoon clicked on the mug for a few more moments, and then the Peacekeeper set it down with a soft thud onto the desk once more.
"I don't know," Laertes told her, flatly, then frowned as he removed the spoon from the mug. "I don't know why you seem to be so proactive. After all, you're the only one that seems to be so obsessed over it all."
She was about to raise her voice when suddenly he threw the spoon across the room, where it clattered against the wall with a loud ding.
"And not to mention what the Peacekeepers have told me about you!" he shouted, pulling her attention away from the spoon, "You beat and slap them senseless, and you have the gall to ask me of justice?"
But she was not deterred. Not at all. She shot right back. "There was a crack in the Western Wall for months, and they didn't spot a thing!" she listed, pointing off a finger as each idea came to pass, "A teenaged girl managed to burn down the whole Reaping display despite having half the troops there because they were too drunk and distracted to see her!"
"One day," he told her, glaring right back at the pacing woman, "It was just one bad day–"
"Exactly!" she shouted, circling back around to the desk, towering over him, "This is what happens in one day. Can you imagine what I have to deal with?! All of this!"
She gestured to the papers, scattered throughout the room. Tens and tens of crime reports, half resolved, half unresolved. Despite all of their surveillance that she ordained to put in place, despite all of the regulations she tried to enforce, 3-1 was full of crime. All of this was a single day's activity in 3-1.
There was a beat of silence, and then the Commissioner spoke back up.
"So what is it you want me to do about it?" Laertes said, voice getting louder and more annoyed the more his underling spoke, "Give you absolute authority over my troops?! The overworked, exhausted troops that I don't have enough money to pay? So you can do what, Rhine, work them to de–"
"So I can make this City clean and safe!" she spat, slamming a fist down, "To stop crime before it happens! I worked hard to get here, why shouldn't they?!"
He stood up, and despite his old age, his stature towered over her. But her glare was not afraid. It was in overwhelming hate.
"My troops are people, Rhine." he said, and his eyes bore into her head, "Not machines like you. They make mistakes, they have fun, they enjoy life, whereas you only prioritize this job. Where is your sense of well-being? Where is your sense of care?"
"In this City," she answered, not hesitating in the slightest, "in security and the law. Every Head Peacekeeper in every other District understands that. Every one… but you."
There was a pause.
.
Then another.
.
And another.
.
Laertes took a sip of his tea, drinking the rest of glass in one gulp, and set it back down on the table with an ominous clack.
"Those Head Peacekeepers are all fools, Rhine," he told her, voice deep and rumbling "They care more about the law than they do their troops. I care about them, Rhine. You don't. I'd hoped you'd learned that by now."
Like she was a ghost, he passed her by, heading straight for the door. As if this conversation didn't matter. As if she didn't matter. As if everything didn't matter. It sickened her.
But he did not leave the room.
He did not pull down on the door handle to let her stew in his lessons, as he did every time she called him in here.
He did not even reach the door.
Rhine did not turn to look at him as his skin turned red, or as he collapsed to the floor, limp, yet spasming. Nor as liquid came out of his mouth and the pupil of each eye dilated to take over the whole of the iris. Not even as his breathing strained against his heart; the time between each pump getting more elongated each time.
No.
No, she just went over to her desk, going through the motions she had prepared a million times. Her own heart and gut were offline now as his went dark, her mind whirling and whizzing, but refusing to stop. And took. A step.
A step.
A step.
And the mug was in her hand.
She smashed it against the floor.
The few remaining drops spilled against the floor, the trace cyanide the Commissioner so carelessly put into his drink contained in them. Her mind was more gone than his, every sound replaced with the ringing in her ears and the loudest thumping of the heart.
This was happening.
This was happening now.
She knew the steps. She knew what had to be done.
As if in a trance, she took an envelope out of her desk, containing a piece of yellowed stationary.
And slipping it into the Commissioner's pocket, she left the room.
A/N: Hey! Sorry for the big gap since I introduced the Twos, but between VE 2023 and life, it's been a bit difficult! The rest of the intro chapters I hope to have done before October, but given how long it's taken me to post with the last few chapters, that might not happen. Anyways, special shoutout to snowlikestardust for beta reading this, and I'll see you next time! Leave a review if you're so inclined :)