thecapitol | [Open] A Reverse Will

Entry tags:

[Open] A Reverse Will

Who| Phillip Gray and Open
What| first death and reliving bad memories
Where| District 6 Suite & Training
When| Week 4
Warnings/Notes| Gore, mentions of murder and body disposal and then there's the Arena

A. District 6 Suite

The first thing Phillip Gray did as soon as he woke up from the Arena was to head to the nearest bathroom and toss whatever the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He wanted to believe it'd be a smooth transition, like he believed Venus and Sandy. That it'd be like in the movies. He wanted his death to be quick, but no, the universe had other plans for him. He escaped his punishment at Freddy's, now he had to endure this. It was his lot in life to die multiple times, this was just the first. Destroying all that evidence at the Pizzeria only compounded that weight. The old routine came back: washing out what little bits and pieces of the other night guards came first. Second: toss the bigger chunks in drums, then lie to their significant others or family when asked about the dead men's whereabouts. Ninety days later, file the report. How the hell was he to expect anything less than hell?

Back to the present, whole body was shaking after that first heave, motor skills reset to that last night before his reaping. Phillip was back in the pizzeria, just as he did when he had that panic attack with Julian. He was trapped inside rapidly draining doors, hoping for a miracle he knew wasn't coming. He even uttered some of that last few words he left Mike...But this wasn't home, Mike wasn't here. No one he knew from that place was here. In fact, it had been a while since Phil thought about his old home. Might as well step out of his room and stretch his legs, probably get something to eat. Maybe watch the Arena-wait yes! He can do that! He could watch those he cared about carry on! It wasn't the best solution but Gray figured he could keep his own demons at bay with that.

B. Training Center

Everything in the Training area had a new meaning after going through the frigid Arena. It wasn't just to keep one's self fit as a way to fine tune survival skills. Phil silently stretched out and smiled in a bittersweet manner when he spotted some of them. The first-aid one would be getting a quick review, if to brush up on catastrophic wounds like deep slashes and severe organ failure due to gunshot. He shuddered a little at the memory, feeling lead pierce through his body before the blood started pouring out. The sheer pain of dying motivated Gray to land the first punch. He was too reliant on escaping, there were times when he'd had to fight and perform a kill...

"I'm not him," Phil told himself as he tried a few more hits, each harsher than the last. The him in question, had been the main reason he hesitated in murdering anyone in the Arena: the serial killer back home. It was ridiculous to think now but if there was someone Gray wanted to beat until bones broke, it was him. The Hunger Games took away that proverbial clean slate, he'd have to be on that level. The Capitol didn't bring him here to be a saint, they brought him here to give them a show.

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"I-I'm full of surprises," Phil joked around, "I was on my night off and some guy started raising hell."

He spotted the opening and swung again, as if he were slinging a knife. His inexperience shone through when he stumbled on his feet to recover. "I couldn't do much other than avoid missing work!"

"Don't overextend like that." That was where, in a life or death fight, Firo would've gone for the gut or throat. Though pain was a pretty good teacher, he figured they could make do with verbal warnings. Instead of going into an attack just yet, he left his guard down to see if Phil would learn.

"There's always somebody like that, ain't there..." At his promotion party, it'd been Szilard. Took a real asshole to bring a tommy gun to a party. "How'd it go, then?"

"Thanks," the guard noted in his mind and tried again, now thinking about where the punch was supposed to land. He stopped short of landing the fist as he caught up to Firo's strategy. He wasn't wasting a lesson if he could avoid it.

"It was either punch the man in the nose and run or get a bottle to the face," Phil explained, remembering bits and pieces of that night. He was trying to relax after three months' of surviving and investigating.

He nodded his approval this time, though he almost laughed when Phil didn't follow through. "You can hit me." By Firo's thinking, they should both be at least a little comfortable hitting someone. But for all he knew, maybe that was what had gotten this guy killed. Mercy wasn't always a virtue.

This time he shuffled forward to throw a punch of his own; a light and relatively slow jab aimed just around the shoulder. "And what'd you do to piss him off so much?"

"All right then," Phil sidestepped a bit too late and got the jab, but he laughed at the thought, "I think it was breathing the same air. He was one of those angry drunks that just wanna swing at people."

It was a long term consequence of his mercy that got him killed: by helping Nick and not killed him at the Cornucopia, he sealed his fate and apparently three others.

He stepped back to give Phil some space.

"There're guys like that everywhere. Usually they ain't so tough, though--any time somebody got rowdy like that in our place, Sena could chase 'em out just fine."

To be fair, Sena was much more formidable than your typical middle-aged restaraunter. And she had a gaggle of gangsters backing her up.

"Sena? A fiend of yours back home?" Gray took the chance to try and swing twice with his arms, and seized the opportunity to strife out of Firo's range if he were to retaliate.

"Huh, this feels like almost dancing," he thought out loud, nothing like the punching bag. Of course, he sucked at it but it was a start. Phil was starting to have fun again, being able to make a stand.

"Family, more like, but yeah. She ran our restaurant and speakeasy." The second blow landed and Firo watched to see if the man's face would change at all when hitting another person versus a bag. Ideally, someone would be able to be just as harsh on one as the other--at least in Firo's book.

He laughed, "That's what some people say. I've never danced before, but you've gotta read your opponent in both, right?"

Gray flinched at landing the hit but he wasn't as upset as he would've back home. These were different circumstances and, while this was a exercise, he still saw Firo as Firo. "Very true!" he tried to play his hesitation off as merely testing the waters again.

The brutality he'd inflicted on the bag was special, having been festered for years. Phil in good faith couldn't just wail on a human being so easily.

Firo noted the flinching and held off on attacking once again. Instead he stepped back and spread his arms out. "C'mon, I've seen you do better than that."

He knew it was to his benefit to be surrounded by people foolishly merciful and that he shouldn't be questioning it. Let them pull their punches. But Firo himself was coming to realize that he had a bit too much of that kindness as well--he could blame his family for that.

And he could see this as a way to tweak the side of the Capitol by refusing to compete. That idea was pretty damn appealing.

"I-If you say so!" Phil took a deep breath and slammed his fist as best he could onto the chest. This time however, he used the knowledge from the first aid simulation to pinpoint where he could hit and cause pain but not crack ribs. Firo really didn't need a trip to the medical wing any time soon.

"I don't fight, I just run away and hope whatever's following me gets bored and finds someone else," he admitted.

Firo almost didn't expect to be taken up on his offer. He made no move to dodge, but he did allow himself to move with the hit and exhaled to keep the wind from being knocked out of him. Doing his best to hide a wince, he righted his balance and nodded with a slight smile. "That's better."

"How long've you been doin' that?" In terms of the Arenas, he was still a newbie, so he figured he should actually know how long that had worked out for this guy before he offered any opinions. After all, both in and out of the Arena, Firo's strategy of not running had gotten him shot dead a few times.

"Before this place? Five years," Phil boasted without thinking it twice, something that surprised himself. He never thought he'd speak of Freddy Fazbear's in anything remotely positive. "This was my first Arena...until I got shot. Multiple times. Can't exactly fight a bullet!"

Firo only hesitated a little before nodding. "Same here," there was more than a note of bitterness in his voice. "To both a' those, actually."

He straightened, no longer in much of a ready stance. The chance was slight, but he was awfully curious to know if they were done in by the same person. "I don't know if my guy was the only asshole out there runnin' around with a gun... but who got you?"

As soon as he spotted the difference instances, Phillip relaxed, "Kinda tall, black hair, always with a sneer and kinda guido-ish. His name is Nick."

It's a small world after all as the man would realize. "Don't tell me..."

'Guido' didn't mean anything more than a last name in Firo's time, but the other pieces were enough for him to put it together. He scowled, fists tightening as he thought of the man's face.

"...shit. That's gotta be him. Really fuckin' rude, too?"

Small world indeed. There was something reassuring about that, in this instance. Firo fully intended to get payback and another brain might be help with that.

He learned forward, as if he were about to start an interrogation. "Was that the first time you met him? How much do you know about him?"

Phil arched an eyebrow at that, "He really was wasting those stupid bullets. He gets the rarest weapon one can afford in the arena and he goes into a damn shooting spree."

At the interrogation, he has no choice but admitting, "Second time. First time, I helped him get some fruits from up a tree. Left me up there until I had no choice to jump. Seems like he's used to backstabbing people to get what he wants." Payback wasn't Gray's sort of game unless the target earned it as he laid on the floor to rest.

"Yeah. I've met a lotta psychos in my time and they're usually not too bright about stuff like that either."

Which made it hurt even more that Firo got killed by him. He knew that he didn't have too many options as a close-range fighter caught at long-range, but still.

Firo crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. "Damn. Sounds like a real charmer." A thin smile crossed his lips. "You plannin' on payin' him a visit next time?"

Ganging up on someone wasn't Firo's thing and he wasn't the type to step meekly out of the way if someone else wanted a jab at the guy, either. But he did know that one should probably be at least somewhat considerate of another man's revenge. These things were important.

"No, he had something going on behind that rifle, if he picked you and I off. He was on a mission...kinda disturbing if you think about it," Phil argued while he stretched his back the best he could., "He played us like violins and the game."

At that suggestion, the guard shook his head, "I'm not but you're welcome to if you want to. I'd rather take it out on the next Arena, I have enough to deal with off it." A certain serial killer came to mind

"How do you figure him playin' us? As far as I can see, he just picked off two guys--he's doin' what the people out here want and gettin' a kick out of it at the same time." Firo wasn't much of a thinker, admittedly, but he didn't see any grand plan in it.

"Well, yeah, that's what I meant. I'm not gonna try and kill him out here." He didn't like to kill someone permanently unless it was on Family orders or from necessity. And he imagined that the peacekeepers wouldn't really take that too well.

If Phil meant he was leaving the man alone entirely, Firo wouldn't have even thought to guess.

Phillip thought for a moment then had Firo sit down beside him. "Well apparently, the more kills you get, the better you're liked with the Sponsors. They like seeing a show, you know? Two easy kills, more prizes for him in the long run."

A little nudge to help the other Tribute out while he could. "Nick just took the chance and...seized with a sort of gusto I haven't seen in a while."

Firo turned down the offer with a shake of his head, instead pacing the floor in front of Gray. His irritation was probably showing more than he noticed.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard all that. So he played the game, fine. But I still wouldn't say he played me."

Firo was a prickly little cactus and the idea that he was killed needled him enough--precise wording might be a minor issue to a normal person, but to Firo it was yet another insult.

"To be honest, I'm surprised I didn't see more guys like him."

People were basically out to screw you over, Firo knew. Or thought he knew.

"They were probably spread out, in other areas. I was sticking to the safer zones after the massive cats started to pop out like daisies," Phil explained, "It's better to establish little camps around...in case there's an emergency."

Caring for Venus and Sandy, along with Sigma's advice changed some of his outlook.

"Past experiences?"

Edited 2015-03-04 01:34 (UTC)

Firo nodded and filed away the tip for the next Arena. "Smart."

It sounded like what some of the small-fry gangs and street kids did back home; have a few places and stashes around so you weren't high and dry when one got raided. Firo'd never had the resources for that, though, and later his life with the Martillos was steady enough that he hadn't need it.

He laughed, "Every damn day a' my life. City's full a' guys like that back home, except they've either gotta have enough for a fix or worry about Family rules if they wanna kick up a fuss like that."

"Family rules? You're mob before you came here?" That wasn't as big a surprise as Phil thought it would be. He may have been working-class but he knew when a thug with too much money came into the Pizzeria. They dressed in suits and their children were always in the tread lightly list. He remembered at least one of them tore poor Mangle's eyes...

Back to the present, Gray looked at Firo, "You were in deep or did you choose to be?"

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