Words can be sharper [Danny, Charade] <closed>
May 26, 2011 21:00:38 GMT -5
Post by charade on May 26, 2011 21:00:38 GMT -5
Razor Creel
"Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump."
The sound of blood pounding in his ears always excited Razor. It meant his body was working at it's best. And why shouldn't it? He was the best. Maybe the best in all of district two. A bead of sweat passed over his lips, bringing with it the scent of apples. Apples. That cream he started using a few days ago must be doing its job. He paused for a moment, putting the 120 pound weight on its bar and sat up. In front of him was a mirror and he gazed at his reflection for a minute. His skin was smooth and covered lean muscle. Just as it should be. Nothing second-rate for him, Razor was going to go straight to the top. His shirt was soaked in sweat, and so he removed it, tossing it to the ground in a heap. His chest and stomach muscles were looking good, but.. they could be so much better. He turned his torso, so that his back could be seen in the mirror. His tattoo reflected a deep blue-black. Though the words spelled nonsense in the reflection he knew they spelled the phrase "The Odds Are In my Favor." He caught sight on a few other people in the gyms, working various parts of their bodies. He turned his head to watch a brunette girl stretch out her toned legs. "I may have to pay her a visit." he mused to himself.
The door opened and a few more people walked in. bringing with them the cool breeze from outside. He thought of them with disdain. None of them were good enough. None of them thought about the Hunger Games like he did. They might be in it to win it, but he wanted in to decimate. If he was reaped, there would be no doubt as to what the best district was, and even less doubt as to who the best victor was.He imagined crowds chanting Razor Creel over and over again. Idiots that they were.What did they know? In the last three years, two backwater teenagers from district twelve had won The hunger games. District twelve! The poorest, worst district in the whole country. A girl from district one had won last year, and this year the final two contenders were from twelve and three. It was embarrassing. He hated the dead tributes from district two. he would be much better than them. No.. He was better than them. And when the time came, everyone would know it. Sighing irritably for a moment, he leaned back down down on the rack.Taking the weight back into his hands he began to pump it up and down with renewed vigor. It just wasn't enough. It was never enough.
"Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump."
"Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump."
The sound of blood pounding in his ears always excited Razor. It meant his body was working at it's best. And why shouldn't it? He was the best. Maybe the best in all of district two. A bead of sweat passed over his lips, bringing with it the scent of apples. Apples. That cream he started using a few days ago must be doing its job. He paused for a moment, putting the 120 pound weight on its bar and sat up. In front of him was a mirror and he gazed at his reflection for a minute. His skin was smooth and covered lean muscle. Just as it should be. Nothing second-rate for him, Razor was going to go straight to the top. His shirt was soaked in sweat, and so he removed it, tossing it to the ground in a heap. His chest and stomach muscles were looking good, but.. they could be so much better. He turned his torso, so that his back could be seen in the mirror. His tattoo reflected a deep blue-black. Though the words spelled nonsense in the reflection he knew they spelled the phrase "The Odds Are In my Favor." He caught sight on a few other people in the gyms, working various parts of their bodies. He turned his head to watch a brunette girl stretch out her toned legs. "I may have to pay her a visit." he mused to himself.
The door opened and a few more people walked in. bringing with them the cool breeze from outside. He thought of them with disdain. None of them were good enough. None of them thought about the Hunger Games like he did. They might be in it to win it, but he wanted in to decimate. If he was reaped, there would be no doubt as to what the best district was, and even less doubt as to who the best victor was.He imagined crowds chanting Razor Creel over and over again. Idiots that they were.What did they know? In the last three years, two backwater teenagers from district twelve had won The hunger games. District twelve! The poorest, worst district in the whole country. A girl from district one had won last year, and this year the final two contenders were from twelve and three. It was embarrassing. He hated the dead tributes from district two. he would be much better than them. No.. He was better than them. And when the time came, everyone would know it. Sighing irritably for a moment, he leaned back down down on the rack.Taking the weight back into his hands he began to pump it up and down with renewed vigor. It just wasn't enough. It was never enough.
"Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump."
