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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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?"

"Yeah, Martillo Family." The name probably meant next to nothing here, but it was such an ingrained part of Firo's identity that he found it difficult not to mention it.

Firo blinked. Even with all the thugs and jerks he knew in organized crime, sometimes he forgot that others didn't always fall into the mob the same (sort of) pleasant way he did. Or perhaps neglecting to think about it would be a better phrase. "I chose to be. They're my Family."

This was the part where the fear or the judgement or the lectures usually came in. Typically the latter two, because Firo wasn't the most fearsome gangster around. Either way, he put his hands in his pockets and watched Phil carefully to see how he'd take it. That sort of thing could tell you a lot about a guy.

Phil thought about the implications of it all, of talking to a mobster, but also how Firo behaved. At first glance, he looked more like a street thief than a made man, with his honesty and better traits. The other side of the coin were people like Nick, those who enjoyed their position in life and probably did it to make quick money and survive. The way Firo spoke, there was a loyalty that the guard could understand.

"If that's the case, as long as you didn't hurt kids or families, you're good on my book," he merely shrugged, "It's not where we came from that matters here anyways, it's what we do now. You sound like they were your family, flesh and blood."

The typical wiseguy response would be to say Phil could take his acceptance and shove it, but Firo was too preoccupied with thoughts of home to harp on that issue. So maybe his judgement was correct.

"'Course I'm not gonna hurt a kid." The disgust on his face was something that couldn't be faked; at least, not something that could be faked by someone as unskilled in that area as Firo was.

He grinned, "Technically not blood, I guess, but that ain't what matters anyway." He'd only ever met a single member of his biological family and that didn't bother him too much. "They're a better family than anyone's had."

The boast was a moment of honesty he hadn't planned and his smile vanished an instant later as he wondered if he'd said too much.

Phil instantly remembered what Sigma told him about the Capitol and their families, making him swallow for a moment. He decided to diffuse the situation with, "Well, you're here fighting for them and the Capitol, right?" The way the man looked at Firo, it was for him to follow along with the play. Gray didn't have anyone he could worry about unless the Gamemakers could somehow reverse the murders or death by natural causes, but Firo had loved ones that were still alive.

Being pretty slow on the uptake, Firo just stared at Phil in consternation. Fight for the Capitol? They were the assholes who'd taken him from that family. "What? Hell, no--"

Oh. Right. That whole being watched constantly thing. He inclined his head slightly to try and show his thanks for the warning without tipping any potential viewers off. "er, I mean, hell no I wouldn't not do that. Yeah."

To try and recover from his mistake, he figured it was probably best to change the subject. "...So, uh, speakin' of what I do back home... what was your job?"

"I used to be a manager then security guard in a family restaurant," Phil answered with a curt smile right back. "Not much to say about that!"

Oh but there was, but this was not the time or place to start that conversation. If they ever find a proper blind spot, then yes.

Lucky for Phil, Firo's distracted from asking too many questions by the discovery that they had something in common. Sort of. "Family restaurant, huh? We've got one back home too. Used to be a speakeasy back during Prohibition, but that's been over for a year now."

So it was shady, but still less shady than Fazbear's.

"Good food and a history to go with it, I bet you get rave reviews," Phil joked around, stretching now, "Tell me it was a legitimate business venture right? Give me at least that peace of mind."

Firo was a fascinating sort of man for Gray, a mobster who didn't have to kill and exert his influence on others. It's a sad state of affairs when the mafia-owned restaurant was less shady and murderprone than Freddy Fazbear's.

"Depends on your definition of 'legitimate'." He grinned. "Restaurant's still open and legal, but we did better when booze was illegal..."

Because Firo enjoyed being kind of a jerk, he kept the smile bright as he continued, "And then there's the question a' where we all got the money to start it up in the first place."

"Is that question on a need-to-know or I'll-get-killed sort of basis?" the man inquired with a grin and a return to form, "Tell me now so I can write up a last will."

But at least he wasn't planning his revenge anymore and Nick, however dickish he was, could sleep at night.

"C'mon, don't be so quick to jump to conclusions." He faked offense, but then conceded with a nod. "...But, yeah, maybe. We might not be as strict as the Mafia with that kinda thing, but a dead guy can't open his mouth. Safer for everybody, you know."

Despite verging far into the territory of bad taste, he was still joking about all of it. Firo was far too blindly loyal to actually talk about the things dangerous enough to get someone killed. Even if he didn't particularly care about the would-be victim, he wouldn't risk making a threat to the Family.

As Phillip tried to get back on his feet to join Firo, he added, "Especially a man like me..." Jokes aside, he does offer his hand to the younger man, "Think I can trust you to another friendly fight and beyond?"

A friendship or at least an alliance between them, maybe?

Firo wanted to ask what exactly that remark meant, but the offered hand swept that question away. He nodded and extended his own hand.

"Sure you can." He knew it probably wouldn't mean anything to an outsider, but the Martillo captains were the most loyal of the loyal. Even if Phil wasn't Family, it just wasn't in Firo's nature to turn on someone.

"I won't come after you if you won't come after me and we can watch each other's backs, deal?" After a pause, he added, "Oh, and if somebody kills you, I'll try and get 'em back, too."

Because that was the kind of thing friends did, right?

All Phillip meant is that he couldn't outright say secrets entrusted onto him. If someone were to ask him to not speak about something, he'd take it to the grave. Which is what probably got him killed.

"Agreed and if we hafta kill each other in the Arena, we duke it out simple and clean, all right?" Gray added to their pact, recognizing the inevitable nature of the Hunger Games. This was to ensure that their Districts had a fair chance at the final round.

He nodded firmly, a bitter half-smile on his face. "I'm not usually the kinda guy to bother with fightin' clean, but I swear."

Would it come to that? Given the sheer number of things out there waiting to kill them, Firo figured it was unlikely and took comfort in that fact. Back home, he'd lived with the possibility of having to go toe-to-toe with his best friends in another Family mostly by never actually thinking about it.

There wasn't that much that surprised Phil and to have Firo admit that made him grin, "Ready for round two then?"

There was a new level of camaraderie that the Arena, and Nick's actions almost took down, but came back full force. Yes they were out to kill each other but in here, they could scheme, they could build.

"You keep your folks safe, and I mine."

Honesty was the best policy, right? And Firo wasn't that good of a liar anyway.

"Sounds good to me."

He rolled his shoulders out and nods, "I'm always ready."

Which wasn't entirely true, but he did know that he could roll with the punches.

Taking that statement to heart and the honesty that Firo offered, Phil went ahead and launched a much more confident fist towards his comrade's arm. Never the face, that was one rule he always kept in mind.

"Though now that I think about it, if you had the gun," the gun in question was the one Nick had used, "Would you have done the same?" If one person had it, it probably meant there were more around the arena, hopefully in less arrogant hands.

Firo smiled to see Phil getting more forward with his attacks. He ducked to the side of the punch and tried to move in with an uppercut to his center.

He would've been more offended if he didn't have to admit to having some blood on his hands--what camorrista didn't? He shook his head, scowling with disgust. "A gun ain't a reason to go after people. Even if we don't really die here, it's still not right."

There were times when you had to kill; that was the only time it was acceptable. Admittedly, there were times when Firo really wanted to take someone out--he counted those as necessity too.

"What about you?"

"I'd-OOMPH!" the blow landed and Phil stumbled before he got his guard up, catching onto Firo's steps and attitude, "I'd save it for mercy kills, self-defense, and hunting! Why waste ammo when there's probably worse things out there?"

Spoken like a man who has never held a gun in his life and would rather keep it that way. Only now did he know the pain that came in being at the receiving end. But if push came to shove...Gray would have to be pragmatic and learn.

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