Boy Icarus, Racing Toward the Sun [D3M Interview]

Finally –

His years of binging horrible reality television could finally be put to good use.

They had a sweet set-up down in Stanley’s old studio.

One of the boys had cut a line to the comms so they didn’t have to pay for the stream of the capitol’s deluxe television package – the same one that some of victors and mayor likely had access to – because of course they were all nerds at heart and not one of them gave a fuck about breaking the law. And who on the peacekeeper front was monitoring illegal downloading? Maybe if they’d been stealing state secrets but watching Nerve or The Castle Game felt so below anyone’s time to bust, he’d have ripped the shit out of whatever white boot knocked on their door to shut it down.

Which meant he’d seen all the sort of arcs play out – the innocent virgin, the cold-hearted bitch, the whore with a heart of gold – and that while each held a sliver of truth, those with staying power didn’t strike just one note appearances.

They had layers of chords that played out to the rafters, stories that metered truth and lies to frustrate and draw closer so that viewers could feel. One could love to hate, or hate to love, but to sustain meant truth that carried on even after a show had ended.

But just because he’d been a quick study in the worst of what Panem had to offer did not mean he’d be successful in wooing whatever jellybrains watched television.

They wanted to forget about the violence and focus on the shiny and new. A story that hadn’t been told a hundred times before. The last thing he needed was to drag the dead horse of a sob story across the stage or present himself as an irredeemable lower district asshat.

He would need to be shameless, but not devoid of empathy. He’d have to push confidence that bordered arrogance and wit to match.

So naturally, Arthur thought he had this in the bag.

When the stage manager had whisked him off at call time, he bounced through each step and paused to stare out at the hot lights and the roaring crowd. He hadn’t paid much attention to what Tsara might’ve said but then, he didn’t pay attention to any of the careers, either.

Tonight was about him, and he wanted to make sure of that.

‘Wheels up!’ Someone said while the audience rippled with applause, and Arthur was motioned toward his mark and then forward.

He grinned from ear to ear and strode out onto the stage. He pointed finger guns out at the audience with a pew-pew-pew before waiving his hands out to them. He offered a little bow.

“Aw! You’re too kind. Seriously, stop!” Arthur gave a tight smile. Get a load of these fucking assholes, he hissed through his teeth before hollering out, “District Threeeeee yeah?!”

He gave a fist bump before turning to face the one and only Risky Pope. Putting his hands up by his head, he gave a mock bow toward the host-with-the-most offering a whistle along with a clap.

He slid into the waiting chair and smoothed out his black tux. He pushed back the curls along his forehead with a grin.

“What’s up, babe? Thanks for having me.”