Dru Charlesburg: Unreleased

From afar, Dru looked like any other citizen of the Capitol, as she waited outside the large doors that bore signs proclaiming how exclusive they were and what sort of pass you had to have to get in. From afar, it appeared as though the teenage girl were a model, or some other vapid career-choice type. Her blue eyes shone unnaturally, her skin was porcelain, and her brown hair had been styled. Even the simple, under-stated clothing she wore with a graceful air of dignity suggested she had been born and raised in the Capitol.

Well, she had been raised here, but left--and now Dru was back under an entirely different set of circumstances. She was a Career waiting for her private Training Session in front of a panel of equally royal, lofty-looking Capitolite people just itching to send her to her death. Well, Dru Charlesburg was a politicians daughter. She bore everything with a cool expression and only the slightest hints to any emotions she felt on the inside. Blame it on District One.

The doors opened, and a boy walked out. Her District-mate, a young man Dru could not wait to see dead. Along with twenty-two other children that is, because only then would she have reached her full-potential and truly shown this panel what score 0-12 she deserved. (That score, of course, was a 13) Dru made eye-contact with the guy and glided into the room. Apparently they were ready to go now. She faltered a little bit walking in, pausing for dramatic effect, making eye-contact with as many people as she could in a timely four second pause. Then Dru took a deep breath, raised her chin and walked to the middle of the room.

She did not speak, she did not make any loud sounds at all, the young girl simply picked up a dagger, shining with metallic, killer strength. She was already inclined to use this sort of weapon, long enough to pass for a short-sword, but short enough that Dru could rightfully call it a dagger. She walked over to a dummy and slit its throat. "One." the girl commonly called out, and some of the dimmer members of the panel looked at each other with quizzical expressions on their faces. Dru stepped back, and suddenly she was five minutes and seventeen numbers in the future. She had spent the last few minutes attacking dummy after dummy. Decapitation, slitting of the throat, knife through the heart, knife through the face, through the temple, a few agonizingly slow deaths where Dru held a dummy in a head lock and carved away at it. She imagined its screams of pain, and smiled.

Dru would hurl the knives at the dummy from a few feet away, although she was hardly good at it. Only a few afternoons of playing with weapons back in District One had provided her with this non-knowledge of how to throw weapons. She stuck to close combat instead, sometimes acting like the dummy were attacking her and she was dodging before getting in close and sticking it quickly. Dru did not need to be trained as a torturer to know where a knife would hurt the most. She chose places where she knew it would hurt her, and judging by the sometimes wide and shocked eyes of the panel, she was getting it right.

Any notions in the panels head that Dru was what she appeared to be when they had first been introduced to her at the Reaping left their brains. This was no tough girl being strong for her already-grieving parents. This was not an angelic girl who had a personality to match her fine face. Here was a true sadist, to the core. She smiled as she called out the number 18 and walked toward the Capitolites.

"Now you all know I could keep on doing this forever. Torture, pain, death. My specialty. I've shown you what I can do armed, but I have trained unarmed too--and against greater foes then just dummies," she went rigid at the memory of the gang-member who had followed her home. With a little help from a friend, Dru had shown him not to mess with her. "I have made pain my, ah, career you could say. Now I'll leave you to the rest of the Tributes, but I sincerely hope you do not forget me as weak child, after weak child are paraded before your very eyes." She hesitated, ran over to the weapons table and picked out a throwing knife, which she hurled at the lower half of a dummy, hitting it in between the legs, conveniently enough although she had been aiming for a little bit higher. The stomach.

Ah well, it plays into my reputation as a mans lady. A slow wink in the direction of the judges, and a kiss blown to them on the way out reassured a few of them that she had meant to hit the dummy in that area although some of the wiser ones obviously suspected it was simply a convenient happening. Dru walked out, the huge doors suddenly ajar as she was rushed out. Dru smiled at the next Tribute, a smile too mean to be true and she quickly jogged to the elevator. There, the girl paused to rearrange her hair and reinstate the vision she had been beforehand.

And so, a girl who looked to be a citizen of the Capitol boarded the elevator. Only her shaking hands and the shine of her sweating forehead would say otherwise. That, my friends is proof that Drusilla Bellatrix Charlesburg had just tried her hardest, and earned what she deserved for being a violent, evil witch.

Thanks to Aya for retrieving this 'brilliant' piece of writing ^^