A Father's Pride [Matthew]

Matthew didn't seem to have a rhyme or reason for being in the town square; evidently, Brody had forgotten to mention to him that he intended to participate in the festivities. It didn't matter; Matthew saw him and grinned, making his way through the outer edges of the crowd towards him. Whether he saw it coming or not, Nolan put out his hand to shake Matthew's, pulling him in for a one-armed hug and a slap on the back. If the kid hadn't figured out by now that he was a very hands-on kind of man, he sure as hell knew now.

"Mr. O'Rourke. Good to see you. Brody's big day, huh?"

"Please." He waved Matthew off, "Just Nolan. 'Mr. O'Rourke' makes me feel old."

He was well aware that his son warned guests to refer to his parents as 'sir' and 'ma'am'; not that Nolan was going to tell Brody that Matthew had gotten so casual so quickly. Besides, he didn't consider himself nearly important or uptight enough to merit being called 'sir' all the time; McKenna was a different story, but then again she did have that commanding presence and it was so very sexy that made it difficult not to. But he digressed.

"Has he started yet?"

Nolan looked at the screens expectantly; wrestling was the third event of the day, and unfortunately its predecessors (foil and epee, two forms of swordfighting Nolan couldn't fathom giving less of a shit about) were one-on-one matches that were allotted far too much time. Even still, he didn't know when during the wrestling event Brody would compete; for all he knew, his son would be in the last match.

"Sadly, no." On that note, he flagged down one of the waitresses maneuvering her way through the crowd. "Get a cold one for my friend, would you lass?"

Thankfully, she either didn't question or didn't care about Matthew's age; Nolan's philosophy was the same here as it was with Brody, if he was old enough to serve his country, he was old enough to drink goddammit.

"I'm surprised you're not competing." He remarked, "Strapping lad like yourself, I had you pegged for a wrestler or a boxer like Brody."

Nolan couldn't help himself but smirk at Matthew's apparent discomfort at calling him by first name; it seemed Brody had already gotten to him about minding his manners. The recruit in him was showing something fierce, though; he didn't refuse the offer of a cold one, though he seemed the tiniest bit reluctant to actually partake.

"Thanks, although I'm not sure drinking in public is a good idea when you're becoming a Peacekeeper."

He shrugged dismissively, taking a swig of his own.

"I told Brody this same thing when he was at the Academy: 'if you're old enough to serve your country, you're a man and you're old enough to drink'."

The idea that Matthew had been so wrapped up in his studies that he somehow managed to miss the announcement of the Olympics was incredible to Nolan, but it was probably for the best. There would be other Olympics, since it appeared President Snow didn't want the festivities to be a one-time thing, but joining the Peacekeepers would last Matthew for a sizable part of his life; Brody was 3 years into his service, and by the time he got out he would be nearly 40 years old.

"To be honest, sir... Nolan. I was so wrapped up in the training that I didn't even know this was going on. Brody never said a word."

"Color me surprised that he didn't strong-arm you into signing up with him," Nolan remarked, "What with the athletic rivalry you two seem to have going."

Nolan hadn't seen Brody connect with another person in quite that manner besides Marcus Roman, the latter of whom had the benefit of going through the Academy in the same division as his son. Even then, Brody and Marcus were best friends; his son seemed to have taken to Matthew as more of a mentor or an older brother.

"I took part in last years pregames. Became second." Matthew explains, "I wasn't very fond of all those eyes on me. But that wouldn't keep me from participating."

He was about to ask Matthew more about his time in the Pregames; he'd already seen that the kid was a fighter, and even with minimal training had shown promise as a swordsman using a style that neatly married Brody's speed and agility with Nolan's strength. But the broadcast of the Olympics was back on, and before they returned the epee, the familiar voices of Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith were describing with great enthusiasm the crop of competitors for the next event: wrestling. Nolan turned fully to face the screen, watching as they gave a brief description of each competitor, starting with District 1. The crowd booed with each District 1 entry, but when they panned to their first District 2 competitor, they went wild. They cheered for their own district of course, but District 2 was the home of the Peacekeepers; there up on the screen, strong and handsome and looking very much like he belonged on a Peacekeeper recruitment poster, was Brody in a black-and-white wrestling uniform with a massive Seal of the Peacekeepers superimposed on the animated background behind him. Next to him were a series of stats about his weight class, his home town and the events he was entered in, as well as who he would be facing in short time.

"Brody O'Rourke. He is twenty-one years old and comes from the quarry county. This fierce young competitor is part of our beloved Peacekeepers. He's been fighting since he was a little boy as he was previously a career. Watch out for this young man."

The feed smash-cut away from the statistics display to a series of clips; Brody stretching as he stepped onto the mat, wrestling Olympic trainers before the game began, and the first match where he had made short work of the girl from District 1. Every scene was a display of agility, power, and brutal efficiency; Nolan couldn't help himself but holler at the screen with the rest of the crowd.

This was going to be good.

"He's looking good up there." Matthew said, as if thinking aloud.

"He does." Nolan replied, the pride evident in his tone. "He looks like his mother when he focuses like that."

One of the things Brody had most certainly gotten from McKenna was that incredible focus of hers; when she had to take work home with her, there was nothing that could break her concentration. It had taken some honing, with his son's temper, but Nolan's patience and especially the Peacekeeper's discipline had sharpened his focus like a finely-pointed knife. The clips had been fast, but Nolan could see it; Brody wasn't thinking about anything except staying ahead of his opponent.

"Boxing... would be my kind of thing. Do you box?"

Nolan grinned. Matthew may not know it yet, but he'd struck on one of his favorite topics. "Well of course." He replied, "Brody didn't teach himself to fight."

Nolan grinned at the prospect of a fight; he'd gotten a small glimpse of Matthew's fighting style when Brody had brought him over and they had sparred in the backyard. It wasn't often that he came across an opponent that fell both into his weight class and was similar in height... This had a lot of potential, if Matthew was half as much of a natural in a boxing ring as he was with a sword and shield.

"Care for a spar? Not today... some time. Maybe after I graduate."

"You're on."

The crowd mulling around waiting for the Olympics to come back on suddenly roared; the wrestling matches were about to start. For a moment, the broadcast showed a bracket of the matches thus far (apparently Brody's first opponent was Scout Fray), then animated who would be facing each other today. The bottom left bracket lit up, highlighting Brody's name and that of his opponent: Genesis Reese. The camera cut to the arena, where the referee was standing in the middle of the ring; the two competitors stood just outside the ring, and even before the camera panned in Nolan knew immediately which one was Brody. He was standing on the balls of his feet, shifting his weight around and rolling his shoulders to stay loose and alert.

The camera cut to his opponent first, a boy from District 4 with a lean swimmer's physique befitting his district; the crowd booed, as they had for the clips of the competitors from District 1, almost drowning out the kid's introduction. Then it cut to Brody's corner, and the crowd roared again for District 2; as if he could hear them, Brody raised his arms in the air, striding into the ring to face his opponent. Nolan raised his eyebrows; from behind, though somewhat obscured by his white-and-black-trimmed wrestling uniform, was a tattoo that he didn't remember seeing on his son's back. It was appropriate, though; very little was known about anyone's heritage from before the Dark Days, but Nolan knew what many of the symbols in the O'Rourke family's old books meant. Emblazoned on Brody's back in black ink was a shield knot, one he knew was considered a symbol of protection.

Fitting.

Brody and Reese stepped into the ring, shaking hands as the referee directed and getting into position; his son stepped back into the staggered stance, and even before the referee called the start of the match, Nolan knew what was going to happen.

"Game on." Matthew said quietly.

The crowd cheered as the bell rang, and sure enough, Brody didn't waste a moment throwing his shoulder directly into his opponent's abdomen, grabbing him behind one thigh and throwing him onto his back; Reese was shorter with less reach, but had a lower center of gravity. Brody had sized him up and chosen his strategy in the mere moments they'd had before the match to look at each other and taken his chance; sure enough, Reese is barreled over backwards, immediately on the defensive as Brody attempted to pin him.

"Get 'em Brody!" Nolan shouted, pounding his fist on the table as if his son would be able to hear him, "Kick his ass!"

Reese put up a more serious fight than Scout Fray had, but had been caught off-guard so quickly that Brody soon had Reese's arm locked against his shoulder, unable to push him off his chest with only one free arm (not that it stopped him from trying). The camera cut to a close-up of the competitor's faces, and Nolan felt the pride in him swell seeing the focused determination on his son's face. The bell signaled the end of the round, and he joined in the wild cheering of the town square crowd as the referees pulled the opponents apart.

"That's my boy!"