Birds of Prey // Legacy Killers day 4 d1 suite

My estimations tell me I get five minutes of alone time before Tigs comes barging the door of the District One suite down.

“Cad?”

So much for an afternoon nap. But rolling out of my comfortable bed doesn’t feel as hard to do when I catch onto the anguish in Tigs’ voice. If anything, I can’t find her soon enough through the darkness.

“What’s wrong?” Her tears shock me. This was the same girl that had yesterday taken her weapon and carved out the insides of another girl right in front of me with no remorse, and today she’s crying? Something terrible must have happened. “Who was it? Who do we have to stab?” I don’t care how extreme I sound.

That is, until she starts talking. Until the source of her pain is revealed to be a stupid, stupid boy. Even worse that it’s Roe. I’m all too ready to jump to her side and rescue her, tell her what I’ve known all along about the selfish boy. But what would I know? I can sympathise, but not empathise. Rejection wasn’t something synonymous with my name. And whilst I mean every sincere word I say to soothe her, they lack conviction. There’s nothing heavy or tortured or experienced in them.

Maybe I don’t understand – maybe this is just another difference that will sooner or later prove too great for us to overcome. But I can comfort her just as good as anyone, if not better. I drag her over to my bed and lay her gently across my chest, stroking her pale hair and untangling the knots that have started to form on her crown. “You deserve so much better than him.” Had anyone ever told her that?

The promise of Roe’s death seems to calm her, and I try not to flinch away at that terrifying notion. There was something unsettling about the way murder soothed her broken heart. Tigs wasn’t a monster – just a girl learning some tough life lessons and exploring new, unfamiliar paths – but I couldn’t deny the fact that, now that the moment for softness had passed, I wanted to be far away from her.

It’s as I’m trying to find a way to leave that I notice Nessa standing by the door. How had she gotten in? Maybe she’d come in with Tigs? Yeah. That must have been it. They’d both been looking for me, then. Tigs for a friend, and Nessa for... the same? Protection? Love? Our conversation from earlier comes back to me: “Anything you need, I’m here.”

I hear the echo of District Five against my words. But this wasn’t Jack’s room. This was my makeshift home, and this was a grieving girl trying to hold herself together. Struggling to hold herself together. Looking for someone to do it for her.

I sigh.

I’m about to gesture Nessa over into the hug – the more the merrier, after all! – when the lights behind her flicker too suspiciously to simply be a faulty electrical fuse, before dying out altogether. The stage in the centre of the room illuminates itself almost immediately after, and a curtain is pulled aside. The room comes to life with haunted figures, outstretched arms and lifeless faces. Reaching into the darkness.

Reaching for Nessa.

“Watch out!” I’m on my feet but I’m too late to stop them catching her arm. Tigs falls into step beside me, already fighting her own demons. Familiar faces surround us; I’ve seen this before. I know what’s coming next.

One, two, three, I lose count of the fallen dynasties of Lumiere and Fray coming to drag me right down into the pits of Hell with them.

The dummies from a private training session a lifetime ago float to the foreground of my mind. It wasn’t meant to be taken literally – I didn’t really want to fight them. I just wanted to show the Gamemakers I wouldn’t make the same mistakes they had. We’d had decades to get this right. No time like the presence, my own thoughts taunt me as I reach for my glaive and begin to swing at the shadows. I wonder if this is payback, on some spiritual level. My dead ancestors enraged at my mockery of them, so this is how they repay the favour. Horror grips my heart at the realisation that follows, a truth I’m certain of:

It’s my fault we’re in this mess. The Gamemakers had taken my high Training Score and used it against me, in some poetically fucked up way, to bring about the demise of my allies and I.

The guilt hits hard. Brings with it a responsibility to make this right. My shaking, stubborn shoulders bear the weight of the silent snap promise I make to myself to keep Tigs and Nessa safe.

For now.

Because there will be more battles, of course. There’s always more. This world will never be done with you. My heart stutters, but I don’t listen to it break apart. The blonde head of Elvena Fray floats in front of me, the hollowed out sockets where her blue eyes once resided pulling me into a chilling embrace. I steel myself in front of her, even as more digitised silhouettes loom behind her.

I’m not afraid. They’re not real. They’re not survivors like me.

“Hey girl! I missed you!” I holler at Elvena’s hologram as I swing, watching the pixels burst on impact.

I never liked her.

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“Watch out!”

Arcadia's voice reaches me, and my eyes flick towards her. The clone before me took advantage of my distraction, their weapon strikes, aiming for my heart. Grunting, I push myself from the wall, twisting enough to that the weapon catches my arm instead of my chest. A grunt of pain escapes my lips, and I try to regain my balance, keeping my blade between me and the ghosts of the past.

From the corner of my eye I notice a girl with hair as bright as Jimmy's. I knew that face. It was a face that had haunted me each day she walked through the arena with my brother. Silk Le Roux. She moves towards me now, hungry eyes taking in the blood that had begun to soak through my uniform, before meeting my eyes, eyes so similar to my brother. My fingers curl more tightly around the hilt of my blade, and I plant my feet firmly into the ground, refusing to back down.

"Come back for seconds?" I knew that the images were nothing but a creation of the Capitol. Created to torment us, to throw us off balance, to terrorise us. The girl before me was not Silk Le Roux, by the puppet of the Gamemakers. I would not allow them to fool me. I would not allow them to allow Flynn's ghosts to haunt me. I was sure that by the end of all this, I would have enough of my own.

Refusing to allow them to see my fear, I force myself to shrug almost casually, studying the artificially manufactured Silk before me. "Silks smirk," I say, as I point towards it with my blade, looking at it in the same way that my science teacher had examined my project before the constructive criticisms were laid on thick. "It had more smugness behind it, Boss."

I back away a few steps, closing the distance between Arcadia, Antigone and myself. Safety in numbers is what Jimmy had said when we had faced our first mutt, forming a pathetically weak truce with the boys from 2. I could no longer rely on Jimmy to have my back, and right not I needed someone too. There were too many, too many hungry faces that closed in around us, determined to tear us to shreds.

I risk a glance over my shoulder, briefly looking from Antigone to Arcadia. There were no noticeably dangerous wounds so I turn back to the fallen who close in around us, "what the hell am I doing here," I mutter under my breath as Silk takes another step towards me.

"She couldn't take down the my brother," I growl at Silk, her puppeteers, "what makes you think she can take down me?"

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The three of you danced a temperament filled tango with the dead. Your weapons slicing into their holographic nature leaving pixels in the dust as they rebuild themselves over and over again.

At first the dead are silent. Distorted images of district one’s finest haunt you with their yearning eyes screaming a thousand words and all the same message. Each time their weapons come into contact with your skin you wince as the electric shock makes its way through your nervous system. You swore you could hear them laugh, bellow a song of glory as they inflict their curse upon yourself.

The hissing of the serpent rings loud and clear in your ears. A battle cry, a promise from the gamemakers.

Even in their death, the Capitol forever owned their soul.

Who owned yours?

You swing your bat once more hoping to put an end to at least one of the spirits but every time one disperses into the air a new ghost comes out to play.

”Is that how intend to win? Swinging your weapon in unstable chaos, emotions controlling you, turning you wild” a whisper breaths into your ear. The dead have a voice, a capitol engineered voice speaking directly at your insecurities.

Swiftly you turn around to face the ghost of Isaac Le Roux, a boy from Icarus’s first eligible games. You recall the day you watched beside Uncle Mick as you prayed that the one reaped from district nine would not call out his name. Safety for another year, but you had no control. No power over the situation and did you ever have any to begin with? Unsure what each day might bring, unable to fight back tears of rejection, your motivation shifting with each day.

Back at the reaping, you just wanted to ensure your brother would live that your family would not have to bury another body. Anger had overcome you, the same that drove your brother to become cold and distant.

Anger had burned you and out of the mayhem you found yourself. Selfishness combined with a whirlwind of emotional highs and lows. Instability and unpredictability on your crusade to make sure you never made yourself small again. To make this about you for once in your fucking life.

What did a prick like Isaac know anyway. He was fucking dead for crying out loud. Your heart was still beating, you were still alive. Why waste your time on the dead instead of focusing on the living. Focus on Arcadia, her embrace the way it made you feel the same as a warm cup of hot coco on a special occasion. Focus on how Nessa was fighting her own demon, standing tall in the face of fear. Look how far you have come, at first unsure of your capabilities and now you were proving just how right you were. You could do this, and you would do it with a smile on your face.

”Eat shit!” you spat at the ghost ”At least I have emotions, at least I still know that I am human.”





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OOC:
- Table by Kiah
- Shoutout to Ryan for letting me use Isaac and helping find the narrative