to b r e a k the b e s t | teddy & castor

Castor Karmichael

I should’ve known.

There was something off about a man wearing a suit in a run-down bookstore. Even the wealthier residents of the District wouldn’t loiter in such a dusty habitat, and the way he had peered at her over the cover of his book had been unsettling. All she had wanted were a few books to slip into her bag undetected. The treehouse could become dull after hours of listening to their Panem radio; it was always the same subjects drawn out for hours until a new update arrived, and that was just for The Hunger Games. Everything else tended to be Capitol or celebrity related, and all of that nonsense was irrelevant to a life full of theft without luxury. There were no recent victors in seven, and seven was the only location she cared about. Books were what they wanted to pass the time. Her eyes could never tire of reading.

Yet the moment she stepped through their front doors, she heard a chilling voice behind her address her by her full name. ”Castor Karmichael?”

She froze, and every hair on the back of her neck stood at full alert.

An iron grip wrenched her backward when she sprinted for an escape. His polished shoe swept her ankle, and she tumbled to the ground with an unbearable weight pressing her into the cement. She kicked and thrashed and sputtered incoherent protests until her cheek scraped painfully against the rigid surface. She could hear gasps and hurried footsteps from the commotion around her, but it was all forgotten the moment she heard his hollow voice. ”By order of The Capitol, fugitive Castor Karmichael you are under arrest and charged with the murder of a Peacekeeper,” he said, slapping a pair of handcuffs around her wrists. Panic seized her. He forcefully dragged her to her feet and marched her forward. She knew where they were headed: The Justice Building.

I should’ve known.

The off-duty Peacekeeper pushed her inside and sat her down in a wooden chair. Men and women clad in their white uniforms stared the both of them down. ”Amadeus, you’re not even on duty and you managed to arrest someone?” one of the men said, sounding both amused and impressed. The one called Amadeus – who had electric blue eyes that reminded her of lightning – regarded them with little interest. His mask was practically void of emotion. It was unnatural. ”Who is she?”

”Castor Karmichael, a fugitive,” he replied. ”She murdered a Peacekeeper during a riot. I believe you have the tapes to verify her identity?”

Castor’s face turned three shades paler. They have footage of what happened?

Why am I here then? Why is Jano a fugitive? Don’t they know what they did to us?

As one of them scrambled for the tape, Amadeus slid her chair in front of a scanner. She had almost forgotten that these were Peacekeepers, the very opposite of what their titles suggested. They oppressed and promoted violence when it was never necessary. They were Capitol-loyal puppets, and each one of them disgusted her. Had she not feared for her life, she would’ve spat on their shoes by now.

In their possession was indeed a video of the incident. She chose to glance away as they toyed with the footage and zoomed in on her face to scan for a match. A 100% match.

Yet they ignored the infant’s corpse strapped to her chest, and focused only on the bloodied knife in her hand and the presence of her brother – who is innocent, all he did was pull me back, or are you all completely blind? Upon confirmation they patted Amadeus on the back for a job well done, and called in for a train to pick up their newest prisoner. The words Detention Center had surfaced quickly, and echoed like a ring in her ears. People who were shipped to the Detention Center were often never seen again. Theories always centered around execution and Avoxing – Avoxing especially, because while Avoxes apparently existed, there was never any sign of them on Capitol television. It was almost as if the country refused to acknowledge their presence anywhere but within Capitol boundaries. Avoxes were thought of as a legend, yet every single beating heart in this District knew that they existed.

If that was her fate, she was never going to see Jano again. He wouldn’t even know what became of her. They don’t know where he lives, they can’t even tell him where I’m being taken. When she didn’t return that evening, would he assume that she was dead? Would he figure out that she had been arrested, or make the best educated guess?

I can’t even say goodbye.

She may never speak again.

The train ride was excruciating. Hours of watching landscape blurred together until she looked away and forgot that the robotic Peacekeeper was in the same car as her. He had donned his white uniform before their departure, and was sitting quietly with an open book in his hands. ”Am I going to be Avoxed?” she asked. There was no reason not to ask. If she was fortunate, perhaps he would tell her so she could accept her fate early.

He said nothing. He didn’t even twitch.

”Are you not allowed to talk to me or something?”

”I am, but I prefer not to engage,” he drawled.

Asshole.

The view of District Two’s luxurious architecture was astonishing, but a tunnel soon bathed them in darkness and shielded her from her curiosities. Sunlight streamed in again when they exited, but this time all she could see was their destination – a concrete dome. After their vehicle slowed to a halt, Amadeus abandoned her in the train car as two more uniform-clad Peacekeepers marched in. Without a single utterance, they yanked her from her chair and shoved her forward. She grunted, but didn’t resist. She let them lead her down eerie corridors without a fight. There was a chance she could still live – whether it was as a slave or not, life was too precious to surrender now. They may not even Avox her. They could simply lock her in a cell and leave her there to wait out her sentence, whatever it was.

One of the Peacekeepers abruptly veered around a corner in the opposite direction, leaving her to the merciless grip of this stranger. Rows of concave cut-outs blocked off by metal bars were on either side of her. Each one was labeled with a cell number and letter. My new home. The one closest to the stairwell opened for her, and she was ready and willing to comply and walk straight in without a fuss. However, the Peacekeeper seemed to have a different plan. The moment she released Castor’s arm she shoved her forward and kicked her in the center of the back with the force of a singing pendulum. The unanticipated violence winded her, and with a gasp she staggered into another body and collapsed to the floor.

She gritted her teeth and lifted herself onto her hands and knees, furious. A pair of dark eyes were underneath her, and they must’ve belonged to the hands that were gripping her where she knelt. A prison mate, how lovely. At least he had cushioned her fall. ”Er, hi?” he said, and she blinked at him, still fuming at her mistreatment yet simmering in the face of this new stranger. ”I’m Teddy.”

Teddy, like a teddy bear? What was somebody like that doing in the Detention Center?

”Castor,” she replied, standing up and rubbing the sore spot on her back. ”Thanks for breaking my fall.”