ajanie supreme // d9 fin

Mom's a doomsday type, Ajanie's been planning his way out since before they came to Nine. 

It's a long fall from District 2 and it's understood that iron pride enters the room before he does. He's built for a fight, trained in a way that's a joke this south in Panem. They don't got swords and flails down here, 9's got guns and there ain't anything to do but run at that point. Ajanie keeps his chin up and his mouth shut, ears open- speak less, hear more. Its reputation predates itself, he wonders why they came here in the first place. 

His dad didn't come with them- they're still married, ain't ever had problems that Ajanie knew of. They told him it'd be a year until his dad gets a job exchange, and a year comes and go and they see him once. Fifteen going on and his dad comes home to the south end of District 9 with a brown bag, a handshake on the way out as he tells him, "you're the man of the house now, Ajanie. Men don't fuckin' hug," and he grew up quicker the next two years. 

17 and working at the corner store after school 'til 10pm. His mom helped him get the job, works down the street at the laundry mat. He used to wait around for her, sitting on a dryer banging beats until she'd be good to clock out, but she's got dudes for that now. Three guys dressed in red come around like clock work smoking and looking out for her, it's been like this for a bit. 

One of them's Biggie, that's the one Ajanie runs for now.

Started off as a one time thing to help his mom with the bills, but it caught on quick. Ajanie spends his time walking around the district anyways, a good excuse to get away from younger siblings and come home with enough money to stash away. What happens in Nine, y'know? Enough to build a plan with, figure some way back to two. 

Biggie calls him nephew, one of a few dozens. They try telling him how things work in Irvine's district, he nods along and plays along as long as the cash comes. 

District 9 blood; wonder what they'll do when he dips. 

Sure, maybe he'll write a letter from 2. Don't matter anyways. Blood ain't thicker than his skull and his mind's made up two years in the making. He'll think it over in smoke circles, brothers from school passing a joint around and the jokes cut out after the third round the same time the dry mouth starts. All that talk about family and it's his siblings that weigh him down, but there ain't enough money in the world for an 18 year old to drag all four of them back up to two of all places. 

Ajanie on top -- he's eighteen and people know his name that he doesn't recognize. Sometimes they'll smile, three times now they've slid him gum, same brand each time. That stopped when he quit the corner store - some morphling whacked out of their mind tried to rob a register that only keeps $63 and seven dollars worth of change. Biggie just finds him at school now, pulls him in with a hug shake like men do.

"You still workin, nephew? Haven't seen you around at Tito's recently."

"Nah, I'm focusing on school." 

"Mama can afford that?"

He's checked out, eyes caught on the store windows and the conversation as far back as he can put it. "Aye-"

"Yeah?"

"Y'all good for you not to be workin right now?" B's got glasses on, Ajanie's jaw clenched, "yea. We're doing alright." He's got his hands on the backpack straps, feel his eyes strain looking at Bigs. 

"Alright, you ever need a job you just let me know, nephew, you heard me?" Ajanie nods before turning the other way, mind on the cash he's got saved up. Enough to make it back home, all he's got to do is turn 19 and get out -- he spends the rest of the walk home thinking what he'll do when he gets there. Get a better job. 

Get a bulldog. 

Fuck his dad up.

Whatever comes, he's just waiting to get there.