Nero Byström Capitol (Done)

The capitol was by no means perfect. Lying underneath the luxury and wealth was something more than districts could even know. The evil that dwells within the body always finds a way to the surface one way or another. The capitol wasn’t perfect like the people would see it to be. Riches and luxury lies within its walls, but the evil that comes with it follows. Black hands wrap around the hearts of the capitolites, shrouding their souls in the greed that comes with the wealth. Riches always come with a price. The price he never would get. Cursed with being poorer than most in the capitolite. The bottom of the food chain, where he is stuck in a cycle of trying to climb but failing. There was always someone who was higher than him, but it also brought the opportunity forward for him.

A camera showed in his bag as he marches through the capitol. A worker for an organization that looked for the juiciest gossip they could find. That’s how he found himself stalking a famous face for something that could satisfy the beasts at his work and the public that ate up the rumors and things up. Some days he would try to take photos of victors around the capitol as they did their thing. Other days he was hunting down the juiciest story he could find. That’s what he was stuck with on this day. A coat wrapped around his body, warming his cold and black heart. His prey within his sights.

This should be easy.

They were oblivious. Easy prey for his camera. Easy prey for paparazzi to snag a piece of their daily life. A smile upon his face as the sun shines down softly, a cold winter’s breeze teasing his face, turning it red. Blending with the crowd was easier said than down. Finding the perfect cover that was close enough and yet far enough away from the prey. A perfect spot to catch them doing something that was worthy of being caught. Gotcha. A click of the camera as he notices the woman who was not the man’s wife. A hand rubbing gently down his back and a photo caught perfectly. A smirk upon the greedy man’s face as the couple leaves him to his success. He’d start climbing to the top if he had to tear everyone down. Ripping their hold onto the ladder and watching the fall to the ground. Bodies cracking and breaking as he laughs and climbs closer to the top.

The prey leaves him, alive, but soon he’ll die like the rest of his targets. Fall from the glory of it all and be another washout who loses their life to booze and suicide. The paper in his pocket is wrinkled, torn, and worn down. Names of people line it as he silently crosses off another one. He whispers to himself, congratulating his accomplishment. ”Another step closer.” As he stares at the list, the breeze picks up and he whistles to some show tune he remembered in his childhood. The darkness of greed’s hold intensifies with every name that he crosses off. The busy hustle of the street allows him a moment of recollection, until he blends in again with the crowd. Camera hidden, list pocketed, and his will to continue breaking people down to their bare, gritty insides, until they begged him to stop.

Brown hair, short and messily styled, sways in the wind as the crowd moves as one. Eyes a striking blue, cold like his insides, no care for the people left behind. They could handle themselves after all, they had gotten themselves into the situation. The truth would come out sooner or later. He was just speeding it along for his own benefit. A stern look always plastered to his face as he stalks his prey. Lips, pink and plump, sit quietly, a tongue gently wetting them. A longer nose that glistens in the sun, but fits his face well, adding to his sternness that could be frightening to many. Cheeks warm and pink with the cool breeze that tickles them.

Hands, rough and large, fiddle with the bag at his side that carries a camera, even though it looks like a regular bag. Feet, also large, move with a clink of every step as his dress shoes match the ones that were in style. A body, tall and lanky, but hiding some muscle that was needed to take photos of the famous in different situations. Arms long and strong with every movement he makes. Legs, strong with every step that takes him to the next victim on the list. Camera within his lanky fingers that were good at messing with technology and other things that he has yet to try out.

Gotcha!

A boy lays in average bed, in an average home, in an above average place. Peaceful snores escaping his body as a mother lays her hand on top of his forehead, rubbing a thumb through his hair. The last few weeks, he had been sick. Suffering day to day, until he passes out asleep. A worried and average mother soothing her child as he sleeps. The boy smiles up to his mother as he wakes, fever burning and body crying for the heat to end. A sweet smile upon her face. His voice echoing in the room.

”Mommy, tell me what happened to daddy.”

Always the intuitive one. That’s what she would have said if she was still around. Her face tenses, but he can remember every detail about it like it was yesterday. Her smooth voice pleasing his ears. Her cold hand cooling his forehead. The way her cheeks would pull up as she smiled at him, but in that moment she frowned. Sorrows filling her cheeks as he remembers it. Tears threatening to fall as she speaks to him.

”He left us when you were little, sweetie.”

That was the truth in a way to tell a seven year old child. The truth was that he had broken his mother’s heart. Perfume of other women upon his father’s clothes, just like the people he photographs. The secrets that lie within the photos like how he wished to have met his father who never cared, only was in it because of a mistake of a night. A child left with no father because women were too pretty to let go. Bad habits etched into his father’s heart, just like the sorrows were tied to his mother’s heart. She had died years later. When he could take care of himself. On his own with only enough money to keep him alive with a bit of comfort, not enough to climb to the top of the ladder.

An average boy with an average and painful life. Riches were never his to have, but he made do with what he had. The camera in his bag coming from his mother’s home, a last parting gift as he took it. A job that he had grabbed and interviewed for. An amateur in his right, climbing the steps to becoming a top tier photographer and then he fell into the darkness. Stalking people, catching them in the act, snapping a photo, and ruining them like his father ruined his own life. In the end, greed and evil were a part of life. It was his job to expose it for the justice of everyone. This was the will of the world.

Evils were to be exposed. The savior to be praised.

Nero would become the savior, praised and raised up on a pedestal, until he felt alive.