Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometime [Charade]

Carver Predd

Anger.The emotion most commonly related to one's psychological interpretation of having been offended, wronged or denied and retaliating to this hurt, whether perceived or real. Some claim that there are three basic types of this particular emotion. Cognitive, or the kind that starts in your thought process about something usually insignificant. Getting mad at the rain for preventing you from going outside or at a sibling for taking the last cookie before you were able to. The second kind is derived from tension and agitation, from feeling uncomfortable to acting out. This kind is more of a reaction than anything to something potentially dangerous. The third and final kind is behavioral. It is this type which breeds antagonism, hate, rage, and wrath. It is this type of anger that ruins relationships and causes abuse.

This wrath can be described as a ticking time bomb, where you only have a certain amount of time until it explodes.The external expression of anger can be found in a persons facial expressions, In their body language, and at times in public acts of aggression. A characteristic that both humans and animals share with this behavior is the predictability for making loud sounds, attempting to look physically larger, baring their teeth, and staring without blinking. Uncontrolled anger can negatively affect personal or social well being. Though, such displays of anger can be sometimes be used for manipulating strategies to gain control of a situation.

How unfortunate for Naif Malloc that Carver Predd, the aspiring Peacekeeper, had practice with all of the above.

How unfortunate that his behavior was characterized by being callous, vicious, manipulative, and degrading; Like most sadists, his sadism stems from several unfavorable experiences during childhood , as well as hs personality being developed in through the harsh conditioning that came with having a corrupt law enforcer for a father. But perhaps, most unfortunate of all, were the actions that Carver witnessed Naif performing.

But more on that later. For now, the focus is on the young man from district two.

The day had started typically for Carver; a quick shave and a high protein breakfast followed by a quick skimming of his journal to remind himself of the many injustices committed by his fellow citizens and how he was usually unable to do anything about other than to notarize it for future reference. When he became a Peacekeeper, many were the people that would be surprised that their infractions had followed them straight to the Detention Center. Of course, he could matters into his own hands every now and then, but only when the ripe and right opportunity presented itself; that being preferably when no one else was watching him enact his own unique brand of... justice.

It was nearing time for him to travel to a training center to work on all manner of arena survival, and this morn, he felt like taking the scenic route. While it generally meant less people to follow around, It also meant less chance for someone to bother him about his eccentricities, and of late, those people seemed to be in no short supply; so he was willing to miss out on some possible criminal acts, if it spared him the indignity of having someone traipse around after him, trying to get their prying eyes into his journal. Duchess Grant had been the first, but since then, it seemed everyone was drawn to the secrets his journal held.

There were certainly better things to do with ones time. Watching the games for instance. Carver viewed them with a mild disinterest this year, having found it to contain far too much... mush. It seemed most of the tributes were trying to be heroes. Which, given their situation, was not the brightest thing to do. The ones who won were the ones were willing to do anything to survive. Carver thought some of them might be discovering that fact as the number of remaining tributes dwindled and allies began to turn on each other.

Some part of him wanted Destiny Linstil, his districts remaining tribute, to become the victor, if only so he could rattle off her atrocities with glee while he dragged her off to prison. But... there were other, perhaps more deserving tributes. The girl from seven had performed a admirable feat in killing the largest mutt he had ever seen, only to fall to a mutt a tenth of the krakens size. As for the others... It was surprising that the little girl from three had lasted this long; though Carver had to admit she had a fighters spirit and wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty. Traits of a victor.

It was storming while he made his way to his destination, though the rain did little to bother him. His journal was safely tucked deep within the bag he had purchased for occasions just like this one. There were shops lining what he called the scenic route, and several shoppers hurried to and fro, huddling under awnings in an attempt to stay dry, else hurrying on their way to get somewhere. But what caught Carver's attention was something else entirely. He had a practiced eye for detail, and when something seemed a bit off-kilter, he was inexorably drawn to it.

Such was the case as he watched the boy with the mud-caked shoes amble past a stall or two as the rain poured. How odd, Carver thought, there were few enough places for mud to accumulate, and none of them were close. His eyes widened as he observed a few fruits being palmed. The boy cast a cautious look around and then sped up, disappearing around a corner. Dismayed, Carver ducked into a nearby store, nodding at the owner as he pulled his book out to thumb through.

He silently swore after several pages of thieves, having realized he hadn't run across this thief before. Which meant that if he were to open up a file on the brown-haired boy, he would first have to learn his name, which meant, interaction was required. Stuffing his precious files back into his pack, he headed back out into the stormy weather in pursuit of this unknown criminal.

He wasn't far away.

Halfway down the street and into an alleyway, the other boy crouched, biting into an orange as the rain pattered all around. Sizing up the boy, he wondered why someone with nice clothes would even bother to steal some fruit and eat it next to a dumpster. This was a career district after all, not some podunk backwater like district twelve. Folding his arms, he stood with his legs apart so as to block the entrance to the alleyway and addressed the hooligan with a condescending tone.

"Are you enjoying your ill-gotten meal?"

Carver Predd

Watching impassively as the youth quickly polished off the stolen fruit, going so far as to smile as the peel blocked the view of his teeth, Carver had to wonder how he had not run across such an irritating person before. All the ne'er do wells and incompetents were supposed to have been cataloged by now, with only the occasional update needed for their page. Supposing the lad had only recently turned to crime made a bit more sense, if at the very least, explaining why the fruit thief was so far, an unknown variable. More surprising was the attitude. Generally, once someone had gotten a chance to observe Carver, they made sure not to tick him off. Which, given the current situation, proved that dumpster boy didn't know who Carver was either.

The rind was nonchalantly spit into a hand, and the other boy stared inquisitively at Carver, before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. It tasted pretty f—king good, yeah.” The boy kept grinning and Carver seethed, turning his mouth up into a scowl. He was being made fun of. The criminal was sassing him with little regard for who he was or what he could do. Even worse, he seemed to be enjoying it. The complete lack of respect for authority was something Carver was never quite able to wrap his head around. It was quite obvious from many tributes demeanor's that the lower districts held a kind of contempt for authoritative figures, something that was rarely seen in two.

“What’s it to you?”

Carver wasn't sure what annoyed him more; The dismissive sarcastic tone, or the idiotic mocking smile that the other wore on his face like it was a badge of honor. Whatever the case, Carver had had enough of his pretentiousness."What's it to me? You making fun of me punk?" There were many ways to deal with people, and each required a different sort of finesse. When dealing with the flirtatious Ms. Grant for instance, it had only taken some brusque words and a few mentions of uncomfortable subjects to get her out of his hair. This one appeared to need a defter touch. "I'm asking the questions." Moving with surprising speed for one of his muscled bulk, he gripped the others shirt with both hands and pushed him up against the dumpster.

It was time to get to the bottom of this strange encounter.

"Who are you?" he asked straight and to the point, a hard edge in his tone."I haven't seen you around any of the training centers, and I wouldn't expect to see your punk self at the Peacekeeper Academy." The other thing that bothered Predd alongside the as of yet unknown identity of the boy, was the nature of the crime. Why steal food? Most of the crimes he noted down were of a different type; public indecency, fraud, cheating, assault, theft of money or jewelry. This.. this was something else entirely."Why steal fruit? It's not like anyone goes without food in district two. You doing it for some kinda sick thrill?!"

Carver Predd

The miscreant squirmed in his grasp, not unlike the way a mouse did when pinned under the claws of a feline. That that was the first thing to jump to his mind in this instance only made him want to smile. Isn’t that how it always went? The weak perished and the strong flourished; after all that was what the games were about. To remind the downtrodden that they were so because they hadn’t the strength to stand. Though, he had to grudgingly admit that the lower districts did contain the occasional unique individual, if certain victors were any indication; but the exception only served to prove the rule.

There were many rules in place to be sure, but they were only there to ensure that order and peace prevailed over the chaos and anarchy that even now, hid in the factories and fields of closeted dissidents eager to spread a reign of terror across the whole of Panem. It always bothered him how people could want to destroy what the Capitol had carefully crafted. So what if if two dozen paid the price every year. It was for the greater good, and infinitely more desirable than the widespread bloodshed another war would spill. Besides, those kids were mostly criminals given a chance to become a celebrity. Why wouldn’t they enjoy the pampering afforded to them?

“You know, I like it rough, but can’t we get to know each other first?” Carver rolled his eyes. The smartmouthed jerkhole was really grating on his nerves. How hard was it to answer a simple question or two? Carver stood in tight-lipped silence as the other youth continued.“Do you like that? Is that what you like? Roughing up guys, huh, that haven’t done anything to you?” Now there was an interesting thought. Did he enjoy doling out his own unique brand of justice? Yes. But to people that hadn’t done a thing to him? There the boy was wrong. By stealing, the boy had broken a law, which meant he had flouted the rules and dissed the upholders of it. Which meant that by default, he had indeed insulted Carver.

“And what, are you retarded? Why the f—k do you think I would take an orange? ‘Cause I was f—king hungry…”Really. Like there wasn’t enough food at his home. This whole sad affair stunk, and Carver could feel what little patience he had slipping away. The thief began to cough; caught a cold from the rain had he? No less than what he deserved. The career was not prepared for what happened next; The wet wad that struck his cheek and began to run down it, or the manic grin that preceded the next exclamation of defiance.“I’m f—king whoever the f—k I want to be!”

Standing frozen for an instant, a look of disbelief crossed his visage before he slowly removed one of his hands from the boys shirt to wipe the wetness from his face. Carver inspected it incredulously, furrowing his brow as he flicked the offending particles to the rain soaked ground. The hand returned and he gripped the the offender with both fists. He could feel the fury rising in his chest as his shoulders tensed up. His eyes took on the half-crazed look he got whenever people needed to stay out of his way. The dark grin he got when there was injustice that could be rectified, the sinister stare when someone needed to be... punished.

Chuckling quietly, he moved his face inches away from the scoundrel.“That... That was unwise.”A second ticked by, and he drew back to smash his forehead into the youths, followed by a savage punch to the gut with his right hook. While the boy was doubled over, he flipped the boy over, pushing his face into the wall and twisting the boys left arm back. “Now... I’ll ask again,”he seethed. “Who are you? Why haven’t I seen you before? And what. Is. Your. Motive?”Each of the final three words punctuated by another pull of pressure on the arm.“I’d advise you to stop messing around before things get...out of hand.”

Carver Predd

The water washed the vomit away in rivulets, hopefully before the bile stained his shoes, but that was not in the forefront of Carver’s mind; rather, he was enjoying the look of terror that the boy shot him as best he could from the perilous position he now found himself in. Maybe he realized his mistake now and was wondering how badly carver would mess him up. Briefly debating his options, he considered turning the lad in; However, that would not really get carver what he wanted, nor would he be credited with the capture. The perp looked at him again and started sputtering out a clean and clear confession.

“Naif Malloc… “I’m not from here. I’m not… I didn’t have anything… I just… I don’t mean to hurt anyone… please… I… I don’t have anything… my whole family is dead… I just… I just needed some food before I could get out of here and find… find a place to stay and a way to live… I don’t want to have to steal, honest…” Malloc? That wasn’t a family name he knew, and yet it sounded familiar. Not from around... Dead family? Needed food... Don’t want to... The boy glanced back again before again admonishing that he didn’t really mean to do all that.

Carver relaxed his grip ever so slightly as he digested this information. Malloc. The name of one of the current years tributes? And he said he wasn’t from around here. Could he really be one of the wandering runaways that they attempted to keep quiet about? “You better not be lying.”Flipping the boy around to face him, he cocked his head to the side in a queried almost mechanical stance.“Cyrus Malloc. District six male. Tribute of the Sixty-first Annual Hunger Games. Four counts of aggravated assault and battery. Four counts of assisted murder. Allergic to seafood. Particularly...Calamari. Related?”His head was spinning with all of this. If things continued the way they were, he was going to have to come with a more elegant solution than just beating Naif senseless.”

Carver Predd

Naif teared up a little at Carver's words;it was either that or the raindrops collecting his brow beginning to trickle down the side of his face. The not so subtle jab had done its work, proving to Predd that Naif was truly attached to the Malloc that had perished in the arena.“He was my brother…he was my brother and he was the best tribute in the games this year… he was the bravest tribute this year… he volunteered himself and he… he could’ve made it… he could’ve…” Naif began to struggle as the volume of his voice raised. Carver kept his grip firm, so as not to let him get away.

“He fought the biggest f—king mutt ever… what did any of the rest of them do?”

Staring at him questionably for a second, the career launched into a rather informative rant, pulling the info from his annals of his mind. Often had he read over the pages he kept set aside for the games, considering the tributes to be among the biggest lawbreakers in the land. If Naif insisted upon asking things, then by all means, Carver would time a little time to oblige him.“Cyrus Malloc, deceased games day five. Jana Hale. District seven female. Multiple counts of assault. Killed the... as you say, biggest f—king mutt ever. Deceased , games day six. Stark Harper. District one female. Once count of murder. Jae Moreno. District one male. Two counts of murder." Carver rambled on, listing the rap sheets of Fawn, Noreen, and Pandora before stopping.“Shall I continue? Or was your question meant to be rhetorical?”

Carver grinned, before punching Naif in the chest twice, two raps on the sternum that very nearly bruised his knuckles. While this was enjoyable, it did not really further the cause that he had committed himself to. It would simply be a waste of ink and paper if he bothered to open up a file on the runaway.“Regrettably, you are not from this district. There is no reason for me to turn you in.”Carver stomped on a foot before sliding Naif slowly up the wall until the thief’s feet no longer connected with the ground.

“So.”The grip tightened further.

"Are you as brave as your brother? What am I gonna do about you?"