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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He nodded and tried another punch; it was straight this time and probably easy to block.

"Hey, c'mon, I was jokin' about that." A shrug. Even the justification Phil just gave there was pretty kind. "It's better to be smart than nice."

"I wasn't," Phil asserted before blocking then grabbing the arm, "If Nick killed us for extra supplies and in cold blood, why can't we do the same for those who are hurting?" It was sound logic, "We'd look good for the camera." These were probably the same motivations Nick had but the way Gray thought and spoke about it, it was more merciful than what it actually felt.

Unless they were permanently killed and then, the guilt would be the worst. "We gotta be on point for the show. Smile and make it so we don't, uh, lose favor with the Sponsors, I guess."

Firo smiled at the grab, but carried on their conversation instead of going for a counterattack immediately.

"Can't argue with--" He cut himself off at the mention of the camera, unable to hide the surprise on his face. The rest of it had been pretty sound, but that... He's definitely still wrestling with even pretending to be okay with playing their game.

Thanks to Phil's reminder earlier, Firo was more cautious this time. Using their sparring as a cover, he leaned in and asked, in a lowered voice, "Smile? You serious?"

He raised his eyebrows, trying to indicate that he didn't necessarily need a verbal answer. He'd just like to know.

Phillip responded to that look of surprise with a sort of worn-down resignation that came with being in a similarly ridiculous situation. He used the grab to shake a no, and as soon as he tried another grab, he pulled in and whispered in Firo's ear, "I meant in the Arena. I dunno how things work outside." He had yet to know that Tributes were more than just dolls to maim and piece together for the Capitol, they were a sort of celebrity that came with many obligations.

He let go, his smile a little brighter, "It's our first, we'll deal, right?"

At least he had confirmation that Phil wasn't actually the type to enjoy this; that was really all Firo needed.

He backed away once released and nodded, still with some reluctance. He did manage to stick a fake smile on his face, though. "Nothin' to do but put up with it, eh?"

Inside, he was sick of putting up with things. That was what he'd had to do in Alcatraz and it was painful enough there.

Gray nodded and gestured a thanks for Firo's understanding and his statement, "Put up with it and hope that they don't send their kids in like they did in the old days."

This was one of the reasons he used to keep himself from losing on purpose, that and survival. He was taking the place of a child that a family would lose due to the system imposed. It wasn't perfect but it was one death out of eleven for him.

"Did you ever get the proper introduction? Because I'm sure your mentor will gladly explain." Not the escorts, they didn't know that sort of pain.

Much as he'd like to, he can't hide a wince just at the thought. He wasn't a good person, of course, but thinking about a kid going through all that without the chance of revival was enough to turn his stomach. "...I've heard things."

He had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything insulting about the Capitol that would probably get him killed.

His fists were clenched so hard he nearly drew blood, but he tried to sound casual as he continued. "Yeah. That's a good way a' thinkin' about it. Still leaves the kids who're in with us, though..."

If Firo ever doubted Phillip's loyalty towards him, now he had it. If there was an easier way to get Gray's unbridled rage, it was to harm a child in any way. Anyone who could prevent such a heinous act, they had the former phone guy's trust. "We make sure they survive then. Most of them have gone through multiple Arenas."

There was nothing casual in that tone, "I have Clementine on my District..." Along with Sandy, who he promised he'd always keep safe. "It's all about having a goal in mind."

And if it involved killing a certain fellow D6 Tribute, Phil saw no qualms in carrying out those goals.

Edited 2015-03-14 05:06 (UTC)

"Yeah, seems like it. There was a kid named Sandy who sounded like she'd been here a while." While he'd been grateful for her advice, there was something sad about a kid having to know that much.

"Clementine? I met her during the fire."

It seemed absolutely insane that they wouldn't cut both of them a break, but everything about the Games was absolutely insane.

One side of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "It's a better goal than anything else."

The moment Firo mentioned Sandy, Phillip stopped the fighting and immediately switched to something paternal, "Did you see Sandy? Was she okay?" Of course she was...she'd gone through plenty of Arenas before he arrived in Panem. But that pang of worry was undeniable and he regretted dying in front of her.

"And Clementine?" Though he had yet to personally meet the Macomb survivor, he had a great deal of respect towards her.

With the fighting stopped, Firo stepped back and put his hands in his pockets. There was something endearing in Phil's protectiveness; if Firo needed any more reason to like this guy, there it was.

"She was a little beat up from those crazy birds, but other than she seemed fine. Even made a couple jokes and stuff."

He scratched his head, "...Clementine got chased by a fire and then got soaked in the river, but I think she was fine too. Tough kid."

Phil smiled, and even chuckled with no ill will towards Sandy or Firo, "Sounds like we both ran into Sandy fighting the goose apocalypse. I gave her my tent while I went out to find more food and water. She needed more than I did, especially after the caves."

If the man couldn't protect the kids back home, he sure as hell wasn't repeating that same mistake again. "Fair enough and Clementine, out of all of us District 6, she's going to make it far...like Molotov."

Whether or not he knew what was coming, Phil was confident in them (if understandably afraid of Molotov.).

Though he wouldn't have thought it funny at the time, Firo nearly joined him in laughing. "Awfully nice a' you."

"I hope so." Not that he wanted her to have to suffer through much more of that, but it had to beat dying and having to do it again in a month or so.

"Who's that?"

"I'd like to say pragmatic too, but I'd be overselling myself pretty badly," As for Molotov, all Phil had to do was point to the screen. "She's Molotov, District 6 too..." And another one of his fellow Tributes that Gray had become wary of after watching her fight with Venus and pretty much everything since.

"She's...um, I've never met her and I really don't plan to." He already has Dandy on his mark.

Firo's eyes followed Phil's gesture to the screen and he watched for a moment.

"...Damn. Can't say I'd really blame you for that. Doesn't look too friendly."

He'd been avoiding the televised Games since his death and hadn't seen the fight between Molotov and Venus. Given the good impression the latter had made, his opinion would have been more strongly negative.

"Are they the only two "promising" ones in your District?" More meaning promising as potential Victors.

"Yeah she's not very open to cooperation," Understatement of the century and watching her kill one of the first people in all of Panem that Phil grew to care about added to some of his bitterness. He caught himself and immediately pointed out, "But she is by sheer skill alone and Clementine on pure drive. Karkat and Bro Strider, they're good too and I kinda wished I saw Julian's." He sighed, "I wouldn't count myself, in that list. Hence...why I'm here. What about yours, Firo?"

"I don't know too many of 'em, to be honest. Didn't see 'em in action in the Arena, either."

He shrugged, smiling ruefully. "The guy I'd hoped would get outta there for good didn't make it any farther than us."

"From what I see in this first arena, they're usually huge. Heh, I never ran into my district mates, save for...one." Phillip immediately changed the subject, to less acrid ones like snowy death! "Which guy were you following? You never know if the next arena he gets lucky!"

Cautious optimism is what Phil always relied on when he was close to something big at Freddy Fazbear's. Hopefully here, it wouldn't get him permanently killed as he had back home. Again.

Firo allowed a small smile. He tried not to get his hopes up, but that didn't mean he couldn't dream. "I'd hope so. From what I hear, he's got some pretty crazy luck."

Like getting saved from the noose at the last minute. Firo didn't know if that counted as bad luck with death coming so close or good luck for the fact he escaped at all.

"Jack. Captain Jack. He's a stand-up guy."

"Captain? Like a navy captain?" Phil was so far off from the truth, the universe groaned into the abyss from which it came. "Shoot, sounds like he should've been in the last round and not with-"

Wait.

"Don't tell me...shot?"

He grinned. A good look at Jack was really all you needed to set aside the thought that he'd have any place in the navy. "...Not quite."

The smirk melted away at Phil's question. Firo hadn't been thinking of it before, but... "We're gonna hafta start a club, aren't we?"

"Pretty damn much, the gunshot club," Phillip rolled his eyes, "The man went on a goddamn spree, I can't wait to see him back here."

To either punch him or thank him for a death that wasn't being dismembered and stuffed? Up in the air, really.

"We should round everybody else up for a drink." And maybe to plot about how to get revenge next time, because that's what you do.

"I thought you said you weren't gonna bother kickin' his ass?" Not that Firo was objecting. Not at all.

"I like that idea, actually," Phil grinned at Firo's suggestion, if to meet the infamous Jack Sparrow.

"I'm not, not out of the Arena or the Training Center. It wouldn't look good for District 6's public relations." Said relations would take a few hits soon but right now, he simply smiled like the manager he used to be.

"Yeah? We should talk to him about it, then. And whoever else bit it 'cause a' that asshole." Firo had little doubt that Jack would go along with it if booze were involved.

He shook his head and nearly groaned. "You're thinkin' about stuff like that? You remind me of my friend."

There was no reason to worry about that, despite Firo's tone. Luck was one of the people he loved most.

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