Agent Micro// Capitol {FIN}

Well, It’s really more of a formality isn't it? You already know what I look like because I’m in the process of talking to you, and you already know that I am referred to as Micro. But I will indulge you this once. Call it a whim. Or boredom. It’s one of the few things I share with others in my family besides a scathing wit and a superior intellect. I suppose I’m quite young for a government official at the age of twenty-five, but in the Capitol, its not like most officials have a long life expectancy. Barring the good president of course.Yes, yes, yes. Let’s start with the face shall we? I keep my sienna hair trimmed short, cropped if you will. Facial hair is normally shaved unless I’ve been unfortunately put to work for longer than I’ve had to chance to take care of it. I’ve been told I have piercing eyes of a darker shade and and nose that leans just a little more to left yes. Fisticuffs in my youth, you know. Let me ask you, is this the smile of a cruel man or a practical one? No, No. Don’t answer that. I already know the answer to it and I don’t need you to do that.

I’m a tall man, and a lean one at that, with a tendency to wear decent clothing. Decent in my opinion being anything that is not overly colorful. Far too many frilly, lacy hot pink things available for purchase these days and It does so help to be sort of incognito in my line of work. Citizens do not generally pay me much attention. But then again, they are not supposed to. It's the reasons for all the distractions. What? What distractions? I don't know what you're talking about, are you feeling all right? Anyway, perhaps they assume I’m some form of well dressed avox; poor sods that those criminals are. Would be much more efficient to just execute them on the spot wouldn't it? But I digress, we are talking about my styles now aren't we? I work out. It would be a pity not to, not with all the equipment at my disposal. It helps me to get one over on him. Who's him? The only him worth being a Who I suppose.

Who indeed.

Ah, now you ask me how I am. You're not really asking how I feel, you're inquiring as to my mode of thinking. Thoughts are a wondrous thing. It's amazing what one can do with an idle thought. With a small suggestion or a dangerous idea. Some say that words are the biggest enemy, but I and my brother could tell you that the truest weapon is the mind. Perhaps the mouth is where the bullet is fired from, but the metalwork and assembly lines are all up here. Don't hurt yourself thinking about it. It's not the point I was trying to make. Regardless I have a rather narrow view on the whole of Panem. In particular I happen to despise the lower districts. From the cattle ranchers to the coal miners, whenever I have to visit one of those sordid places, I feel like I have to shower in disinfectant. Actually, I do. It's just so full of people that have no clue at all about what their doing. If they had any common sense between them, they'd have rebelled again a long time ago. It's not like we really have the manpower to stop them. It's just so boring. And then of course there are the games as well.

Petulant little things aren't they? The tributes. Not a scrap of originality in the lot in years. The same old tiresome half baked romeo meets juliet and falls for her only to brutally murder her the following day, or a whole lot of blinking ring around the freaking Rosie. When I watch the games I expect to see blood and survival. Instead I get lipstick stains and a whole lot of boo frickin hooing. Grow a spinal column will you? Or let someone else sever it for you since you don't seem to be using it much. But alas, I am not a gamemaker, and so I usually find that taking my anger out on criminals with less than stellar careers is quite the substitute. They are very willing to tell you what you want to hear with a little incentive. Or a lot. I can't afford to waste time in this line of work, it allows the scum to get away with only the measliest of trails to follow. Its in those times I find myself having to seek an outside opinion. Unless of course he thinks its bloody boring.

And then of course there's the relationships I have with my family. I'm afraid they all sunk quite some time ago. Oh, by all means I still keep tabs on them, but its not like I phone during the holidays. That would be dreadful. Besides, If I wanted to see my brother it would be as simple as catching the next train to district one, with a tin full of cookies and an unsolved case file. Luckily, what with the recent influx of peacekeepers, I'm sure I won't need to consult him much anymore. Or more than ever I suppose. There was that whole business at the peacekeeper convention. It gets frustrating at times, knowing that he's the smarter one, but I feel it is also a grating offense that I've grown unusually accustomed to over time.

My childhood?

There’s just so much that I could tell you, and so much that I am simply not going to delve into. Can’t have too many of my secrets wandering through the caverns of your mind. Of course, the next thing you’ll likely say is that I’ve irrevocably piqued your interest and you simply must know something; which is perfectly understandable given your current position. Suffice to say that ours was a troubled upbringing. You may have heard whispers and snatches of conversations about my parentage, and for the most part, they would be correct. I was indeed born to the officials known only as The Maker and The Mistress, and I do indeed have a younger brother who goes by the completely unoriginal moniker of The Detective. We’re rich. Obviously. By the time I was eleven I could play three different instruments and had attended enough dinner parties and soirees to have an Uncle Cory. Don’t stress yourself out trying to deduce who I’m talking about, hardly anyone uses his first name these days. I was groomed to enter the family business of... Well. National secret and all that, I can’t tell you or I’d have to have you killed. No you’re right, it was a joke. If I had to, I’d do it myself. No shortage of eyes and ears all over Panem. Mechanical or otherwise.

Moving on.

When I was sixteen, I was thoroughly embarrassed my my younger brother’s admittance to college. A full year before my own and he three years my junior. I must say I taunted him quite mercilessly for that; the way that schoolyard boys are wont to do. Sometimes I wonder how long it took him to start eating jammy dodgers again. Memories. He brutalized my arm for that. Clean break, maximized for pain but minimized for damage. Surgical precision. Maybe he should have called himself The Doctor. But, we’ve had at least ten operatives by that name, so I understand why he’d want to distance himself from careers like those. At any rate, the amount of alarming incidents during our youth sometimes gave me cause to wonder if my brother might be a psychopath. Or, in the more politically correct terminology high-functioning sociopath.It’s all the same to me, though by now I’m sure Deccie would have pointed out at least a dozen flaws in my argument. He eventually became a peacekeeper, and I ensured that that he wound up assigned to a district close to home; Though did he intend things to work out that way? Even if he didn’t, I’m sure he’d find some way to convince me that that was his plan all along. But enough about him, I thought we were talking about me.

I stayed in the Capitol to hone my skills. I have a very particular set of skills and I use them very particularly. Some have even gone so far to say that I am The Capitol, because I seem to be everywhere and nowhere whilst not entirely existing. Confused? I’ll fluff a pillow for you. My career has been a splendid one thus far, though no one would know a single thing that I’ve done. I know more about you than you’d ever imagine. It’s my job to find out the things Granted, Deccie is the brilliant one with a list of commendations the length of my torso, but I’ve got the one thing he hasn’t. The one thing that’s always been hard for him to grasp. Charisma. No, that’s being too gracious. I have the sense of tact that he utterly lacks. What’s that you ask? How do I know I’m the more charming between my brother and I? Well, he’s pining after a girl that he should have thrown into an insane asylum the first moment he met her. And I? I have to wonder if you’ve been paying attention to the little quips I’ve let slip here and there. It’s quite alright if you haven’t. How am I the more charming of the two brothers? Well...

You’re in bed with me aren't you?