Look out, I said a BAD WORD!
Pray Jager, District Two (15)
Another year, another two Tributes. After you've won the Games, there's really nowhere left to go. I'd torn a boy apart with knives on my hands. I'd slit another boy's throat and shot an arrow into a girl's head. Extreme sports and philanthropy were dull as paint. Even training didn't have the same zest as the Games.
I often found myself wandering the Capitol at night. It was the only time such a fake, glitzy metropolis seemed interesting. I liked to see the seedy underbelly they'd rather keep hidden. Even paradise had strip joints and drug dealers. I could almost pretend I was scared walking the bad part of town.
"Hey baby, can I have a ride?" someone asked from behind me. I flipped him off over my shoulder and didn't even turn.
"I don't think you want to do that," the man said. Another man slunk out of an alleyway in front of me. I heard the click of a switchblade and smiled. Before, it was two punks who weren't worth my time and hardly deserved my wrath. Now I had an excuse.
"What do you want?" I said as I turned to face the first man. A streetlight illuminated him and I stood in its shadow. He stepped forward.
"First, your purse. Maybe more," he said. He reached out to snatch my bag. I clamped my fingers around his wrist and curled them like a vise. Five pointed talons burst through his skin and grew slick with blood. The man yelped and I slammed into him, knocking him back and bringing me into the light, which bounced off my hand.
"Oh shit, it's Silver Claws," the thug behind me said. The man I was holding whimpered and tried to twist his hand to slash me. I squeezed harder until he dropped the knife.
"Help me, man!" he called to his partner. The other man reluctantly stepped closer and looked at me. I flashed him a glare and he stood still. The second I took my eyes off the first man, he brought his other hand up and punched my jaw. My head snapped back and I dropped his hand. He grabbed me in a bear hug and tried to pin my arms to my sides. I wasn't stupid enough to consider any fight easy. No matter how weak the opponent, he could get lucky. I craned my lower arms and sank my claws into his sides. He pushed me back and I almost lost my balance. He tried to punch me again and dodged around him sideways. I slammed a palm into his throat and he doubled over. I brought my knee up into his stomach and he collapsed the rest of the way to the ground. I kicked him in the ribs and he tried to curl on his side. I knew he was beaten. I could have left him then and gone on my way. Unfortunately, I didn't feel like it.
"Not you," I said. I put a foot on his throat and lifted the other. I felt the crack as his vertebrae snapped, his windpipe collapsed, and the life left him. His last breath escaped in a rattle and I stepped off of him. I turned to the other man, who was trembling and was an instant from bolting.
"You," I said. I held his gaze and he got my message. He didn't run, but he backed away as I came until he was pressed against the wall of a building. I stood on my toes as I looked at him, noting the humor of the situation. I was a foot shorter than he was, yet he was the one quailing in fear.
"No, please don't," he said. He started to cry and I almost felt bad for him. I took his chin in my hand and ran a claw along his jawline. I smiled again.
"Tell the devil Pray sent you," I said. My hand flashed along his cheek and I carved a diagonal slash in his cheek. I only wanted to scare the crap out of him, and it worked. He actually fainted before I even finished the cut. I left him slumped in the alleyway and continued my walk. It was the most fun I'd had in years.
Pray was fifteen when she won, but this took place some time later. It's weird writing someone so different from me. I have to remind myself that Pray is merciless. I always want people to just get wounded and never die, but Pray would straight up kill someone for looking at her funny.