the river of silver and gold dries up {kire}

Name: Jeremiah Keaton
Age: Twenty-six [26]
Date of Birth: April 14th
Gender: Male
Marital Status: Single
District of Assignment: Ten [10]

I had been standing outside of the muster room for a half-hour before the lieutenant arrived to begin the briefing. We stood in rows, facing forward with our hands clasped behind our backs, our legs shoulder-width apart, and our knees slightly bent. "At ease" they called it, though there was only some ease to this position. The lieutenant's speech was short today, just a note that there had been more thefts than usual as of late, due to a number of financial cutbacks throughout the district. None of us were surprised to hear it, but we all knew that each of us would and could take strict action if we found a thief. While the Capitol didn't really care if citizens were stealing from one another, they despised anyone who tried to steal from them. To combat any notions of doing so, we would have to crack down on any and all theft. Their desperation could not sway us in providing swift justice.

The look on my brother's face those years ago, when he had held stolen fruit, rose in my mind and I set my shoulders. I could not let myself be swayed, for any reason, and if anything I would have to use my past experience to help instead of hinder my determination. The lieutenant dismissed us, leaving to his office as we filed out of the room. The sound of our marching boots was all of the noise we made as we left, but the moment the door closed behind us there were mutters about troublemakers, little brats, and hopeless people. I ignored them, and everyone else, and took off on my own. They all knew I preferred to work alone, and - in spite - I knew they would leave me to deal with anything I came across. They thought that if I didn't think I needed them then I could walk into a brawl alone and see if they cared. The trouble with their reasoning is that I'm not stupid enough to walk into a fight. I would just come along and knock out the victor before dragging all participants back to the HQ to be booked.

My footsteps might have been gunshots for how people scattered before me. Like mice, they scuttled into the shadows as I passed, miming innocence and feigning ignorance of my presence. Their acting wasn't very convincing, but I continued on my path. There was no point in wasting time, energy, and Capitol resources in trying to wheedle whatever scraps of information that they had out of them. Everyone knew something, but unless I knew that the knowledge would be important then I would leave them be. We scare the people enough as it is, there's no reason to completely terrify them.

Before I round corners, I know there are people passing whispers of my being here so the people in my path would know before I got there. This time, though, they seemed to be a little bit slower than I was. The street was filled with normality, a glimpse of which is a rare occurrence as a peacekeeper. Some of my peers would sneer at the people, waiting for them to startle and skitter away like they always did. For me, I liked to watch the citizens while they were unguarded. The site allowed me a bit of peace and a memory of what life was like before I donned this white uniform. The reminder would sometimes draw memories of my family before catastrophe tore us all apart - those were the good times - but at other times I would revisit the look in my brothers' eyes as my trainer and I caught them in the act of theft. I could almost hear my little brother's screams as the lash ripped open his back.

My eyes, trained to catch odd movements from the years of looking for the signs of criminal activity, snapped to a fruit vender's stall. A girl stood in front of it, hesitating a moment too long before reaching to grab an apple and stuff it silently into her bag. She didn't reach for money to pay.

I'm at her side in moments, my hand closing around her arm. My long strides, full of determination and horrible purpose, are a sign to everyone watching that I meant business and it was in their best interest to just let things happen. Everywhere around me people panicked to try and gain the mask they wore for peacekeepers. I had scared them and it was a surprise to see how few of them bolted. Somewhere deep in my chest was a small feeling of pride, but I wasn't sure where that pride came from. Certainly not from the sight of this girl thieving.

"Where's the fruit." There was no point in pretense, and no point in beating around the bush. If this girl wasn't careful, she might be the one getting beaten. I never dealt out those types of punishments - I was always teased about not having the stomach for them - but I always argued that I was set to street duty. Let the other dogs have fun with the bone, I was just the bloodhound.

"Don't test me, girl. Put it back and maybe you'll avoid the detention center." These words were softer, not to be heard by all the street but simply this foolish girl. I never asked why, the reasons were either too unbelievable or all too believable. Struggling with what caused someone to do something just makes serving justice that much more difficult.

Especially when they remind you of your family.

Jeremiah Keaton