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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

"As long as the bar has something strong on tap, I'm good."

The Phone Guy's smile persisted, "Of course...if it ensures we get something good out of it, Firo. For what it's worth," Sigma's words ran true from Gray's last day alive in the Arena, "It's not just the kills that help you in this place. How else would our dickish friend get a gun when everyone else has knives?"

The logic was sound, of course. But Firo grit his teeth and folded his arms more tightly around himself. It was a big struggle to even consider cooperating like that. "Seems too much like workin' for people who aren't my Family. That's against the rules."

It was the same cop-out he'd used against Huey; he'd claimed he didn't have the boss's permission so he wouldn't have to collaborate with that asshole.

When it came to his men, Molsa Martillo was a more forgiving boss than even many legitimate bosses; he wouldn't kill one of his capos over a difficult situation like this. But avoiding the possible death sentence hadn't been Firo's motivation anyway--he just really didn't like going against Family rules.

"You'll have to think of these guys, they're your family," Phil's face read, pretend. If there was any possible way to warn the mobster about the worst, that there was always a chance that someone from Firo's world could be brought here, he would.

"Best to suck it up now...and avoid whatever this place's version of a strike is. Like Avoxing." Out of all the punishments, this one haunted the man to no end. "Or death." And yet that one gets a nonchalant voice. He's used to permanent deaths happening in the workplace.

The meaning behind that expression was loud and clear, but Firo grit his teeth nonetheless. He was already feeling like the lousiest capo for going along with this thing. To call the people here family? That would just be too much.

He wasn't so bold as to voice his refusal--as Phil had reminded him, they were being watched--but he shoved his fists into his pockets and looked away rather than affirm the recommendation.

It took him a moment to work down his anger enough to speak reliably. "Yeah. The shit that they go through sounds like a goddamn nightmare." It was probably a mistake that Firo still sounded more angry than concerned when he said it. His family had already been taken from him. What happened to him didn't matter as much.

That rage was building enough that Phillip didn't have to see Firo, he could almost feel it in the air. More so when he could spot any Peacekeepers patrolling the area. "Come on, Firo...we should walk and you train or walk...where's your District?"

Blow off the steam or punch the shit out of the bloodied up bag.

"Huh?"

He bit the inside of his lip as he looked at Phil. Slowly he ccaught on, and suddenly he felt a little guilty for being resistant. It'd be fine if it hurt just him, but he didn't want to drag someone else down with him. "Oh. Yeah, walking's good. And it's District 8."

"I'll walk you over to your District, nothing like a little camaraderie before we 'slaughter' each other in the Arena," Dark humor aside, Gray did his best to maintain the level head and let the young mobster have his moment of rebellion in a private area. Or at least a place they can talk freely as they did in combat. He did whisper, "You know it's temporary, right? You're not theirs to keep."

Firo nodded and just barely smiled. "...Thanks. You're a pal."

He blinked, then whispered back, "When's it end? When I die for good?"

Being under someone else's control was one of the biggest pains of the whole situation, to be sure. But there was also the fact that, by being here, he wasn't with his family.

The niceties were enough for suspicion to drop, enough for Phil to nod, "That or win but then you become a Mentor for the future Tributes. I dunno any other ways to escape that don't involve dying horribly. Well, at least in my case, I don't know about your situation back home."

He knew that the moment he was sent back, he'd be deader than dead.

His mouth tightened into a line. "...That's a risk I'd rather not take. Could hurt someone else, even if she's not here." When they died here, Firo assumed they were done for good, even back home. He was already concerned that his temporary would kill Ennis; the risk was even worse that his permanent death would.

"What's up with your 'situation' back home?"

"I'll get crushed, maimed, and stuffed into a meat grinder," Gray spoke without a hint of sarcasm or jokes. He always figured that telling the straightforward truth, especially in a world that doesn't shy away from creative deaths. Not to say he wasn't worried for Firo's as he asked,

"What about yours?"

Firo raised both eyebrows and just barely remembered not to raise his voice. "...Hang on, what? Who the hell did you piss off?"

Was this guy involved in the criminal underworld? Wrong place at the wrong time? It was insensitive to ask, probably, but Firo honestly hadn't even thought of that; he just had to know.

"Very...very long story but I guess I wasn't careful for that nightwatch," Gray shrugged, having long accepted his death by animatronic at least a year or so before he was reaped for this. "I'm not in a gang or anything but it's a very particular work hazard because of my employer's...incompatibility with common sense."

Understatement of the century.

[Open] A Reverse Will

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