Brutus Greenfield D4 {fin}

Name: Brutus Greenfield

Age: 14

Gender: M

District: 4

Looking at his brother, Brutus could have sworn he was standing in front of a mirror, albeit an inverted one. Every last detail the Greenfield twins shared was the same. Starting at the top of his brother’s head, Brutus could gaze at Clouse and know exactly how he looked. This wasn’t just because they were identical twins, however. The siblings actually put effort into being indistinguishable. Every morning, one would stand in front of the other, and when the one in front would trace his comb through his blonde hair, setting the hairstyle for the day, the sibling in the back would follow. As much as Brutus would have preferred to be the leader in time, he understood that his brother needed his time at the front. How else would he finally learn to be assertive? Brutus wouldn’t always be there to take control and protect him, and he needed Clouse to mature and grow a pair strong soon.

It was partially because of Brutus’s desire to protect Clouse while his twin couldn’t do it himself that he insisted they look identical. Their shining blue eyes and accompanying bushy eyebrows, their rounded button-like noses, and their now 5’11” heights came naturally in a pair. The rest of their features had to be painstakingly monitored to ensure that they didn’t waver from one another.

To this end, Brutus made sure that the siblings always trained together and at the same station. More often than not, when they sparred, they did so against each other. That way, when one, usually Brutus, landed a hit on the other, it was easy to arrange for an identical mark on the other. As a result of this, and the fact that the duo always ate together, only the most precise of scales could tell the two apart by weight. Skin color was even easier to coordinate. After all, they from the usually sunny District Four, so all they had to do was maintain the same light tan that made them attractive.

The roughest obstacle to their goal had occurred years ago, and since that moment, nothing else could prevent the twins from making themselves indistinguishable. At the tender age of 11, Clouse and Brutus had been on one of their family’s boats, fishing of course. Clouse was a natural, whereas Brutus just didn’t have the patience to sit around and wait for a bite. That’s why he preferred the net over the pole. He could just cast it and pull it out with his strength. There was no need for moderation.

This time, however, Clouse wanted to use the net, perhaps thinking that would make Brutus more comfortable. But all Brutus could focus on was Clouse’s hesitation to use his brute strength. They were equally strong, after all. There was nothing Brutus could manage that Clouse couldn’t if he would just set his mind on it. Instead, he preached his gospel of patience and balance, which Brutus could never understand. And so it was, that after several hours of watching his brother demonstrate what he claimed was the “most efficient” way, Brutus tried to intervene and pull the net up himself.

Big mistake.

Not only did this turn the net the wrong way and let out the fish Clouse had caught, but it caught the fisherman off balance as well. He fell, and as he did, the line got tangled around his hand in such a way that his left ring and pinky fingers got tangled up in the net, completely stuck. For two hours, Brutus and Clouse tried to undo the workings, yet with every passing minute, Clouse’s fingers grew darker and darker. By the end, he had lost all feeling in them, and Brutus volunteered the only remaining solution he had – amputation. With no other option, Clouse accepted his brother’s decision, and squeezed his eyes shut as Brutus brought down the blade normally used for skinning the fish they’d catch.

Unfortunately, that left them with another issue. Once Clouse had patched himself up, he joked about how the two finally had something to mark one as different from the other. Brutus would not have that. He needed to be able to protect Clouse. If somebody wanted to harm his brother, who he knew wouldn’t fight back, they’d have reason to pause if they knew they might be attacking Brutus. “Guess this is my way of paying for my mistake,” he thought, as he answered his brother’s joking remark with a grab of the blade, still marked with Clouse’s blood, and a swipe at his own fingers. “Guess that’s not a problem anymore,” he replied with a grimace. “Besides, could be worse. It’s better than having some of your teeth knocked out. Don’t know how the world would survive the loss of two great smiles,” he laughed as they packed their things and went home.

Their parents had been worried of course, and for a while after, they accompanied the boys to sea whenever they’d go. Or rather, they accompanied Clouse, because whereas his brother’s love and talent for fishing only grew with age, that fateful event completely eliminated the last of Brutus’s pleasure when engaging in the activity. This became the main separating factor, the only distinguishing feature someone who didn’t know the boys could pick up on. Whenever Clouse would go fishing, Brutus would go swimming in the same area, allowing himself to get equal exposure to the sun and at least some physical activity to match Clouse’s.

Whereas those who did not know the brothers well could only identify them in such a way, those who interacted with the two at least somewhat regularly could tell them apart from the moment one started talking, or training for that matter. Whereas Clouse was always kind-hearted and, during training, clearly not emotionally invested, Brutus was the complete opposite. Although he had a soft spot in his heart for Clouse and saw himself as his brother’s mentor and, until he was emotionally strong enough to take on the role himself, protector, Brutus had no such feelings for those outside of his family. In public, he was abrupt in his speech, and whereas Clouse’s voice had a soft tone to it, Brutus tried to keep his as low as possible. His persona was that of the tough guy, who didn’t take shit from anyone, whereas Clouse’s was that of the empathetic nice guy who went out of his way to make others feel good. Physically, they were mirror images. Personality-wise, they were the ying to the other’s yang.

Together, nothing could stop them, and so they made sure to always stay at each other’s sides. Neither one could bear the thought of losing the other, and as much as Brutus would hate to admit it, he relied on Clouse to be his emotional support. Without him, his physical appearance might not change, but deep down, he would be a broken man.

As he spars with Clouse, however, such thoughts leave Brutus’s head, and all that remains is the determination train as hard as possible, and to drive his brother to do the same. “Harder,” he yells as he drives a fist into his brother’s arm.

At the end of the session, they inspect their bruises, and Brutus holds up his own arm so that Clouse can land an equal hit. Satisfied that they will soon sport identical bruises, Brutus throws an arm around his brother’s shoulder as they end training for the evening and head home together. Always together.


Word Count: 1263