Phillip Gray | Phone Guy [AU] (
voiceinthephone) wrote in
thecapitol2015-02-23 10:58 pm
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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.
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.
no subject
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."
no subject
no subject
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.
no subject
He knew that the moment he was sent back, he'd be deader than dead.
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"What's up with your 'situation' back home?"
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"What about yours?"
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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.
no subject
Understatement of the century.
no subject
Sure, it was a little more likely than getting killed in the management position Phil had said he'd had before, but security guards tended to get left alone in Firo's world. Most of them knew to back down from the mob-connected robbers, at least; for their respect, they'd get handcuffed to a pipe and left with their lives.
He shook his head. Something just wasn't right. A lot of things just weren't right. "Damn. That sucks."
no subject
"Tell you what? We meet up with Captain Sparrow and I'll tell you everything I had happening. I can bet good money I don't have that the Capitol probably knows about it anyways. Or at least the people who determine my stay here."
Beer, scheming and a side of gore, what more can anyone want?
no subject
"Yeah? Sounds like a story, that's for sure."
He nodded. "I'm game.