the fast & the damned {oswald v. ellis v. orville}

sequential art

There’s this hobby store on one of the corners of the richer part of District Nine, where the Peacekeepers and administrative workers live. A bunch of cool stuff that Oswald can’t afford is down there. Board games, buildable models, these shitty little dolls with big heads that all look alike. What really caught Oz’s eye were the comics – straight from the Capitol, or so he was told. They had these vivid covers with characters posed so dynamically that Oz could just see the stagnant drawing move, and they were all adorned with these broad-chested men with cool, heavy silhouettes and awesome costumes. The store-owner was a cool guy too. He let Oz look through them, even though his mom only bought him one on special days.

So, about once or twice a month on a weekend, Oz would sit with his legs crossed on the floor of the store, face cupped in his hands as he read comics. He preferred the adult comics over the kids’ comics, though the store-owner would threaten Oz with trouble if he ever noticed. But the adult comics were written better and looked cooler, so Oz just learned to be sneakier.

But, of course, sometimes he noticed things he wasn’t supposed to look at. (Especially in the girlier comics.)

Once, there was this page where this guy and this girl were cuddling on this pink mattress. And the guy was hugging the girl from behind. And his hands went up and down her arm, and on her hip, and he kept kissing her back which was so weird because adults are supposed to kiss on the mouth. And there was this detail of the guy breathing into the girl’s ear, which Oz thought was fucking weird, because first of all, ears aren’t freaking ticklish (he checked later – DEBUNKED, ass-holes), and second of all, if someone did that to Oz, he’d probably just straight-up punch the motherfucker because that just seems annoying as hell. Reminds him of when he was in first grade and freaking Gage Rodriguez kept breathing on his neck when they were in line for recess and the teacher would just ignore him when he complained.

But yeah, it was weird as hell. The store-owner noticed the expression on his face and the comic he was reading and then kicked Oz out of the store for the day.

He was ten at the time. Walked home in a stupor. His mom asked him why he wouldn’t eat his dinner (and why he kept playing with his ears). Oz just shrugged and made himself scarf the rest of his food down so she’d stop bothering him about it. But the truth was, his mind was absolutely stuck on that weird comic. He kept wondering what was supposed to happen next. Why a kiss on the back, why pant in someone’s ear like a creep…

He thought about asking his mom about it, but chickened out. He didn’t want her banning him from the hobby store again.

Delusion

Snuff’s hands.

When Snuff wanted something from Oz, he never spoke up. Instead, he would give him this light tap with his fingertip. It was very gentle; sometimes, Oz wouldn’t even notice until he saw Snuff’s hand flutter away. Snuff’s hands always flutter. When he talks, when he moves – the degree of fluttering is dependent on Snuff’s excitement. And Snuff’s skin – the skin of Snuff’s hands remind Oz of the skin of Celeste’s arms. Warm, soft…

Snuff holds Oz from behind as he sleeps. His hands flutter tentatively down his arm, resting for a moment on the curve of Oz’s hip. He hums a gentle lullaby into Oz’s ear – his voice is so much higher, so much stranger than Oz remembers. His hands are so warm…Oz wants to press his face into them. Murmuring, Oz reaches for Snuff, hand blindly groping as he sinks deeper and deeper into his dreams.

Frightened by the motion, the Nakom flutters away, squeezing through the crack in Frog-legs’ windshield.

Oz can’t feel Snuff’s hand anymore. The silence jolts him awake. He looks around and has no idea why he’s in Frog-legs, why his back is pressed into a chair instead of Ellis’ back, why he can’t hear Esther and Peter breathing gently in their sleep, why everything has become so absent, why the only thing in the world seems to the butterfly-shaped light fading faster and faster into the darkness.

And then he remembers.

He sinks.

The dark is so empty. The bowels of deep space press against Frog-legs’ windshield. Seeps in through the cracks.

Oz wraps his arms around his chest, clutching himself tightly.

Gingerly, as though he were clutching a baby bird, Oz lets a hand go down his arm. Nears his hip – hesitates out of caution, slides quickly up to the curve of his shoulder instead, rests on the sensitive tender skin of the neck. The pad of his thumb draws a slit across the throat. Wraps around the other side.

He squeezes.

Harder.

Do it harder, cunt.

The anthem screams into his ears. He gives a sharp cry as he scrambles upright, arms flailing to the sides.

He stares into the eyes of ghosts. Their faces are a pale, shimmery purple – almost soothing.

The monsters that killed Celeste. Gone. Thank God. Some justice for a change.
The pretty girl Bowie had been traveling with.
Oz flings his hands up and covers Canvas’ eyes.
Underneath his wrists, he notices Bowie’s name written in the sky.

He flings his hands down. “Bow–...”

Bowie Gamble fades into the night.

The only honest person in the world was fucking dead.

A drawing

Bowie’s face tended to be drawn by color. The flushing ambers of fireworks, the cold neon glow of the Capitol. A nebula had been painted across his face.

Fitting. Bowie was like a god, he was so rare.

You could tell by the granite firmness at the corners of his mouth. The way his eyes find you and lock onto you and won’t let go of you. Burrowing into you, seeing the flesh of you, the soul that moves the flesh. Knowing.

Eyes dusky with a mannish kindness.

“Go,” his voice is the earth. “Run.”

No one talks like that anymore.--Except for Ellis.

Kindness is so simple, and yet there is a brotherhood in it. But that makes sense. Brothers are brought together by love, and love is supposed to be kind.

No one’s allowed to be kind anymore.

An animation

Oz stares at his hands. After slug-crawling into Frog-legs, he had desperately tried to scratch Canvas’ dried blood off his skin. He realizes now he couldn’t get all of it off.

As the anthem fades, he sinks again. Arms listless, fingers curled. The weight of his body dragging itself down into the cockpit’s chair.

Ellis.

Last kind soul in the arena.

Ellis.

People like that are precious. They need to be preserved. Protected.

Ellis.

Ellis.

Ellis.

Ellis.

ELLIS GALLAGHER YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER I’M GOING TO BEAT YOUR ASS NEXT TIME I SEE YOU.

Frog-legs’ light flares on. With great agitation, the mech jolts upright, its leaping frantic.

“‘OHHHH, OHH, OZ, I DON’T WANT YOU TO DIE OR ANYTHING,’” Oz pitches his voice in this effeminate whine. “‘SO I’M JUST GONNA DROP YOUR ASS OFF IN BUM-FUCK NOWHERE I HOPE THAT’S OKAY MYEHHHHHHHHH.’ Like, what the fuck, you gonna come with the milk later, right Dad?!!!! Ellis, I’m gonna kill you! I am going to fucking murder you, you stupid piece of shit, holy fucking GOD, you rude-ass bitch, get over here so I can crush your balls you piece of shit!!!!!”

Oz is going to give that little, tiny, cunty, motherfucking, smooth-brained, shitty, fuckery, ass-hole-esque, infantile, probably definitely fucking gay as fuck, cock-and-ballish, dick-headed, piece of shit, piece of piss, piece of cunt, piece of ass, piece of fuck, piece of dick, piece of absolute total suckery, probably a cuck too because why not fuck you, absolutely stanky piece of shit Ellis Gallagher the biggest goddamn hug in the history of the universe the next time he sees him. Because he’s not doing to Ellis what he did to Snuff after the reaping – throw away a good friendship just because his fee-fees got hurt.

And Ellis can suck his own goddamn micro-penis for all Oz cares.

A Saturday Morning Cartoon!!!! Adventure!! Gags!!! Two-frame-rate animation!!

A shadow like a vulture’s sprawls over Ellis Gallagher.

Oz stands above him atop the land-ship, hands on his hips, eyes bulging with unrepentant wrath.

“Oswald.”

How dare this bitch even THINK to say his name out loud. The goddamn AUDACITY of this bitch right now.

“You can’t be here–”

Oz isn’t quite sure, it’s all kind of a blur, but he’s pretty sure he just freaking walked an entire fucking radius of this goddamn arena so he could be here. He ain’t going nowhere.

Oh wait, Ellis is talking about the other ship coming.

Yeah, that might be a problem.

And then the little bitch just scrambles into the other fucking ship, yelping something about running off, before he just fucks off into the sunset like the gayest cowboy Oz has ever seen!

“Oh no you’re fucking NOT,” Oz spits, revving the ship’s engine. It shoots off, aiming for the cloud of dust spurting beneath the wheels of Ellis’ ship.

One hand on the ship’s helm, Oz reaches for Frog-legs’ cordless radio. Cause Ellis ain’t leaving, and he’s going to have to goddamn learn that pretty quick.

“Hey DAD,” a guttural roar rasps from Oz’s throat. “Got the FUCKING MILK FOR YAH!”

"Watch your damn mouth!" I shouted back at Oswald as he motored past me in his landship, shouting obscenities as he passed by. The boy from Seven, who's name escaped me, followed shortly in behind, but his childish laughter and cheerful demeanor instantly told me: this guy is not a threat. "Your momma's watching!"

Neither of them were.

"Who the fuck are you?!" I shouted at Seven as I veered out of his way, his bumper matching mine. 

It suddenly didn't feel like a fight to the death anymore. We were just boys having fun. For a moment, I almost thought I was back home with Patrick and Finn and we were goofing around, throwing rocks at shit and vandalizing things with penises. Stupid shit that made us belly laugh until we all sprawled onto the ground, trying to catch our breaths in between our laughs.

"If you're gonna kill me, come fucking do it!" I shout at both boys, as I accelerate forward onto the landship. "All I wanted was some goddamn peace and quiet, and here comes Dumb and Dumber to come ruin it!"

"I'll beat your scrawny ass back to District Nine if you keep it up!"

And a laugh escapes from me, the first one that filled my lungs with ecstasy seven days ago. 

TCqU2Cm2cJ1-10

"Who the fuck are you?!"

"ORVILLE REED KING!" He shouted back, lungs full of air and sand. He realized belatedly that it had been the perfect opener for some clever reply. IT IS I, YOUR KING! came to mind much too late. It would have sufficed to point to the gently rotating holographic crown hovering over his skull. It had appeared that morning and refused to mosey along, quite like the Nakom. He was becoming fonder of it by the minute.

He shook his head trying to dispel the disappointment. Without The Static mirroring his moves he'd almost forgotten why he was here.

Almost. But then, Fucking Wes had reminded him.

Orville puffed up his chest, tilted his head back so that the wind glanced over his nose and ruffled his hair. He tested the steadiness of the sailboat's rudder -- solid, despite the generally shoddy construction -- and then leaned futher back, released his hold on the steering, and closed his eyes.

For a moment, he traveled into the sun, into the light itself. And it was glorious.

"All I wanted was some goddamn peace and quiet, and here comes Dumb and Dumber to come ruin it!"

He blinked away the vision. Arms still flung out, he pointed to Oz, and then back to his own chest. Dumb? Dumber? The grin that stretched across his face softened his features.

"Bow-eth before him, peasant!"

It was a far better introduction than he'd given for himself. Even with the speed and wind he caught most of it. It softened his belly and warmed his cheeks. "HERE, HERE!" He shouted in Ellis' general direction, and then jerked hard on the rudder to bring his sailboat alongside Oz's landship.

The laugh that greets him is brittle. Already Oz's ship is pulling away, more fleet than Orville's or Ellis'. Hi, Orville! How yah doing, man? Are the Gamemakers still bitches?!”

"Not any more than we are!" He replies most earnestly. "And me? I'm SAAAAA-I-LINGGGGG AWAYYYYYY!" Orville is, admittedly, tone deaf. But he belts the lyric just the same, drawing it from his empty belly and through his full lungs.

His sailboat rattles.

A panel loosens.

Oz is already so far ahead. "WAIT! I don't even know what a Galla-whatever is! Oz! WAIT!"

Love!

In Nine, he didn’t really know what it was. He doesn’t think he ever really felt it. He just knew that he liked things. He liked Snuff and Mya, so they were his friends. Of course he liked his mom. He liked to draw to an obsessive, repulsive degree, and when he encountered things he disliked he liked to crawl into his head and hide there for a long while, either behind these walls of self-pity or veils of childish fantasy (which would then be translated as doodles).

But love was never a factor. Is it ever for kids? Until life reveals its own impermanence. And one begins to have the sense that things fade away quicker than they should. But before that realization…

Is love supposed to endure? Like, would his mom…even…

He wants it to.

Like he still loves Esther and Peter, even though they’re gone.

And he hopes that whoever loved – that other kid –...he hopes they love him forever. Yes, forever. Something’s gotta be permanent, right?

Saturday Morning Cartoon!

Maaaaaaaaan, this shit’s WILD!

Orville “King Shit!” King’s gotta an actual crown! Wow! Since when! Oz wants a crown! How does he get one? If he makes his ship go faster than everyone else’s, will he get one?!

No better time than to fuck around and find out–!

Orville and Ellis are kindly dicking around as Oz fiddles with the ship’s sailing mechanisms. Orville belting this random song – kinda sounds like something Oz’s mom would listen to, not gonna lie – and Ellis being all, “I just think you should take up new hobbies!”

“Hey! NOW who’s the insensitive fuck!” Oz snaps at Ellis. Then adds in a light, cooing voice to Orville: “Nice throat-singing, baby, you keep doin’ what you doin’ if it makes you happy…”

Very much like Snuff and Mya all over again. Snuff/Orville doing weird shit, Mya/Ellis happily throwing around zingers like they’re freaking candy. Now all he needs is Nowles to lend her Kevina-esque presence, and he’d basically be hanging out at school again.

Home.

He loves home. He loves Mya. He loves his mom. He loves Snuff…

Why does his chest feel warm all of the sudden…?

Snuff.

The sails snap open!

“Come and get me virgins!” Ellis taunts.

With pleasure, Oz purrs to himself.

His mom has seen everything.

The white canvas billowing in the sweeping desert breeze! Oz’s ship shoots off in a trailing cloud of sand, rocketing past Orville’s and Ellis’ ship before the two of them even knew what bolted past them! OOOOOO CONNNN-FUSION! Orville’s calling after him, Ellis – probably fucking doesn’t know what to do, both of them are left in the dust! Cackling with glee, Oz scampers to the ship’s stern to watch as the boys’ ships shrink and shrink.

That means Snuff has seen everything too.

“SMELL YAH LATER, LOSERS!” Oz snarls through his nose, flashing a middle finger for Orville and Ellis each. Then he throws his fists high in the air, his gait a jostling-swaying-jigging-skipping motion as he flits back to Frog-legs. “Ahhhh, Frog-legs!” He flings his arms around the mech’s thick robotic calf. “Just LOOK at what they need to mimic a fraction of our pow–HYEH!”

It is at this point that Oz’s emotional state replicates within his body the sensation of a cardiac arrest, at the tender age of thirteen.

And that means–

Oh gawd.

Oh man.

Oh GAWD.

OH MAN.

He flings himself around, slamming his back into Frog-legs for support, reaching out with one hand as the other grasps at his heart, his breath trapped in his throat, mouth open in a silent screech of total absolute preteen embarrassment (the worst pain of all).

“Guys— guys– guys—” he wheezes.

“I love him.”

You definitely said it.

You definitely said it out loud.

Holy fucking shit you said it out loud.

Dude FUCK WHY DID YOU SAY IT OUT LOUD.

LITERALLY JUST HAD TO KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT FOR LIKE FIVE SECONDS YOU DUMB-ASS.

“Guys!”

Oz sinks to the deck, fingers sprawling over his face, his bulging eyes.

DUDE FUCK HOW YOU EVEN FUCK UP THAT BAD BRUHHHHHH.

Now Snuff’s gonna think– ah SHIT.

“Guys…” Oz flops to his side, assumes a fetal position. “Guys, I think I was gay on TV, oh fuck, oh shit, oh fucckkkkkkkk…”

The scorch earth churned beneath the sailboat's sturdy wheels. As his ship careened between the other two, Orville caught a bit of wind and ever more earth in his thick hair. Soon he'd become a sandperson, he was sure of it. A robot sandperson. "Then fix it!" The other boy suggested most helpfully.

Orville snorted. "Not a lot of boats in Seven! Shop never was my favorite class anyhow." He had the advantage of the wind now as he glided ahead of him. He let his voice soften just a bit. A little quiet. A small breath.

And then the crunch and squeal of metal on metal. The sailboat's aluminum siding scraped along Oz's far superior vessel. For one terrifying moment Orville watched Oz lift into the air. He wondered if he might float, if he might fly as Victor Gamemaker Antoinette had. And then he crashed down to the deck.

Orville winced, clinging to what was left of his mast. He'd abandoned the rudder entirely. "Well," he swallowed a lump in his throat. He clearly had more pressing things to worry about but very suddenly he realized he was nauseated. From the wobbling, rocking ship.

He leaned far to his right, peaking over the battered side. He almost expected to find water where there had been sand. Glistening. Rolling. Gently carrying him away...

Someone, somewhere was calling his name. He waved one hand over his eat, trying to shoo the insect away.

“Jump! C'mon, yah gotta jump, c'mon!!”

Orville blinked. His vision swam, just like the endless jeweled sea ahead of him. He tutted at Oz. "Are you crazy!? I don't even have a life jacket!" He curled a little tighter around the mast's base, the broken wires of his mech suit moaning.

It seemed, with him squarely in the middle of his sailboat, that it was not so unstable. It began to slow, meandering back towards Ellis' ship and giving Oz a commanding lead.

cartoooons

About ten or twenty seconds passed before Oz realized that Orville wasn’t gonna jump. His hand stuck out, swaying like an idle branch in the wind, as he stared into Orville with huge, begging eyes, waiting…

And waiting…

And waiting…

“Are you crazy?!” Orville tuts. “I don’t even have a life jacket!”

If Oz’s life was a cartoon*, there’d be some incidental sound to go with the way his lips thin and his eyes go blank. Like a duck’s honk.

Fortunately for Orville, hanging around Snuff for the past two years has trained Oz for situations like this – that is to say, Oz’s first inclination isn’t to go off on him for (a) scaring the bejeezus out of him for no good reason, and (b) not doing what he was freaking TOLD like he freaking SHOULD!

“N-...no!” Oz stammers, eyelids fluttering. “I mean – like – like…” He points enthusiastically at his ship. “Like–...!!”

But the ship jostles, em-dash, exclamation mark! Oz cringes against the rigging, holding tightly as their masts dance together in an awkward sway, the wheels of his own land-ship finding a jutting dune and bouncing upward, freeing the skeletal structure of Orville’s mast. Like a mad bull set loose from its pen, Oz’s ship throttles forward again, bucking over the dunes as the rushing wind toys at Oz’s hair and clothes.

Carefully, Oz picks his way around the rigging, hopping off onto the deck. He pushes his lips together in a begrudging duck-bill, hands on his hips, flat eyes hooded as they peer down at the deck. Frog-legs’ comms crackle with a vivid sort of life, the blurring of machine and human voice managing to tone down Ellis’ barrage of cursing. (Oz’s mother would be so proud of the company he keeps.) Ellis isn’t too happy with Oz and Orville’s fuckery – well, that makes two of ‘em….

“I’m coming for you, Oswald!!! Buckle in, motherfucker!”

“Dude!” Oz grunts, a hint of annoyance edging his tone, hands flopping against his sides. “You keep saying that, and there you freakin’ are!” Ellis is, like, practically a point of light in the horizon at this freaking point. “Just find the gas pedal already, okay, man?!”

Oz’s gaze slides back down to the deck.

Pause.

Slides over to Orville. Hrmph…Pause as his gaze slides back to his shoes.

Then back at Orville. Large eyes scrunched up pointedly, mouth screwed up in this sideways tilt.

Back to his shoes.

Back to Orville.

Before he can stop himself, he whirls around. “Orville!” He leans forward, hands firmly planted on his hips in an effort to lend his slight frame some amount of fatherly credence – he even wags his finger at Orville, usually that means authority. Or just being really annoying, either one of those. “I told you” – he makes a chopping motion with his hand for emphasis – “we need! to keep! you! around! Don’t pull things like that!!”

He swings a vicious finger in Ellis’ direction (assuming the slow-ass can freaking see it). “And that goes for you too, jerk-wad! I’m keeping you both!”

Whether you like it or not – DAD.













*It’s not. It’s an anime. (There’s a difference.)