Tucker Truedhart {D9} - Finished

I am all about appearance. Seriously, I love looking good. Sure you may think it doesn't take much for a guy like me, but it does take some maintenance to upkeep my perfection. But let's just start with the basics, the things I can't control. For example, my eyes. They are brown. Deep, dark, masculine. I think they help define me as a man, and add to how I look. My hair is a dark brown. It naturally curls into little wisps on my head but I like combing it through with grease and making it stand up on my head. It looks too boyish when I leave it curly, it makes me look ridiculous. So I usually do it up all fancy and nice the way the hairdressers at the Capitol always did.

Now, my body. I work very hard to make sure I look very well-toned. I lift weights everyday and run a good sum of miles to upkeep my physique. It isn't easy but it is definitely worth it. I'm about 6 feet and 2 inches tall and weigh around 195 pounds. It's quite easy to look intimidating at my height and weight, which is exactly what I want. Scare away the boys and bring in the ladies. It also helps me look alot older than I really am ... Overall I think my height and weight give me a large advantage in life. And because I am so well-toned, I look amazing. I am confident enough that alot of times I just go out without a shirt on to prove that I look better than any other guy around District 9.

But yes, I do where clothes - but only the big Capitol brands. If I have to cover up my body I want to do it with style. I tend to wear athletic clothes everyday because I know what I usually have to do within a day - training. So muscle shirts, shorts, athletic shoes, and my mask. I wear a mask in any combat training to protect my face. I have scars all over my body and I don't want to risk my face getting like that ... I think the face that will someday be famous and known everywhere should remain perfect. But any other time, when I am not training, I like to wear the big brands of clothing from the Capitol. I was able to bring alot of those clothes out to District 9 with me, and every other week my dad goes back to the Capitol for his work. He always brings back the next big things.

- Personality -

I walk around waiting for someone to challenge me. So many other boys that I have trained with have been defeated at my hand and have become frightened of me, intimidated by my presence. I hold my head high, my father is watching. I can't let him down, not now, not ever. I've seen the Games, I watched my youngest uncle fight. He didn't have a clue; he was weak. He showed too much of his emotions, he lost himself in a whirlwind of rage and the need for revenge, he never trained, he was unprepared. Therefore, he died, along with his precious allies and girl. Although, I will give that to him. She was pretty damn hot.

I ready myself for the fight I am about to endure ... And win. I slide the mask over my head, not wanting to have my face ruined. If I was going to win the Games and become a Victor, it would be smart to keep a pretty face for all the television interviews and posters. All I would be using to dual today would be my fists, my favorite. How great it felt to defeat an opponent with your bare hands, to have their blood smeared on your knuckles. It was the ultimate feeling of glory, at least until I won the Games. I squared myself up against the boy I would be fighting. He looked scrawny, but ... confident?

I watched his face, and where most kids let fear splash up on their face, their was a different expression instead. Amusement. He is laughing at me, at the mask I wear upon my head. I let myself growl as I wait for the instructor to blow the whistle that would signal the beginning of our fight. The beginning of his loss. The whistle blows and I let my fist swing at his face. I hit the boy square in the jaw and he falls to he ground. It's then that I realize how young my opponent was, how young. Why had he dared to try to fight me? I bend down, pulling the mask off my face, letting my face get near his. "Don't laugh at someone stronger than you, kid." I made sure to give him a stiff punch in the kidney before I got up. Training was over now. I had won today's fights - again.

I walk over to my dad, who shakes my hand and gives me a pat on the back. "Good work today, son. No mercy." I let myself give an exasperated laugh. "No mercy." I concluded. It was our little line. No mercy. It was how you became a Victor. My dad had never been able to be part of the Games, having never been picked or bale to volunteer, but he had always wanted to, had always trained for them. And he certainly knew what he was doing, which was an upside to having him as my dad. My dad, Quincy, is about the only person in the world that I care about, except maybe my other uncle, Terrance. He wanted to be Reaped as well. But he never was, and his parents forbid him to volunteer. But the lucky one, the one who hadn't even trained for the Games, had been able to volunteer, Shayde. But that was another story. Right now, there were other things on my mind.

Girls. It's simple. I have a date tonight, and another one tomorrow, different girls. I waned to take them both on the same date, but women always tended to be offended by that. I never understand why though. They should know that they are lucky if they get me at all, even if they have to share. Either way, tonight and tomorrow night, I am getting lucky. Or rather, getting what I deserve. I need some 'love' after what I had to endure today, after all my hard work and training. Couldn't wait. Their would be a lucky lady tonight for a deserving man. Thinking about girls, I couldn't help but be reminded that I had to be careful of them, at least the ones that trained. It was sick to watch the last four Games. Four female Victors? Seriously? No girl deserved that honor, and yet 4 females were getting it above all males. It makes me want to puke. Heaven forbid that oriental girl, or whatever she was, the 59th. It just stains every males reputation a bit more. Except maybe mine.

---

--- Self-centered and absorbed
--- Confident and brave
--- Behaved and hard-working
--- Offensive to females and dick brained but honorable to males
--- Merciless and persuasive
--- Truthful and surprisingly trustworthy

- History -

I was born in the Capitol at the Meridian Hospital on April 25. My dad, Quincy Truedhart, got a prostitute pregnant just to have me, or so he says. My mom, Olivia ... Uh, Triem?, Yeah Triem, never really wanted me, but my dad insisted and even paid her to have me born. I never knew her, and don't even know what she looks like ... Basically she has never meant anything to me or ever been part of my life. I know most of my family, my grandparents, my two uncles - or one uncle- Terrance. Quincy was 15 when his parents decided they wanted another child, thus Terrance and then again when he was 18, thus Shayde. As far as my dad knows, though, Shayde never knew of him, he wasn't even sure that Terrance did. He knew Shayde didn't, having seen his interview and saying he only had one brother. He didn't know he had a nephew either, just three years younger than him. It was almost laughable that he never knew ... Obviously my grandparents had wanted to keep my dad a secret? It's quite the little scandal they got going.

OKay, so I was born in the Capitol, but my father always had high hopes for me. From the beginning, for as long as I can remember, he taught me how to fight, and how to be strong, and know how to heal myself, and basically how to survive on nothing at all. I can remember as a hands-on exercise he left my outside the house for a whole week when I was 6. Tough life? No, it's how you learn. My father knows exactly what he is doing and I trust him. Anyways, I learned how to get food for myself, how to persuade, how to do certain things that required a skilled head. It helped my boost my intelligence and philosophy on the world. It was hard to believe that after only a week I had learned so much life knowledge, but I had, even in the Capitol.

My teen years consisted of more combat training rather than the intel part of the Games. Everyday I spent my hours away lifting weights or beating the hell out of a punching bag or running for miles on a treadmill. I remember it getting simpler and simpler everyday, so many guys starting looking up to me and admiring my abilities. And they were right too, I am the future Victor afterall. Around that time, when I was 14-ish, I moved out to District 1, where my dad knew of alot of different Career training groups. It was soon clear that I was the best of the best and clearly fit enough to win the Games. That's probably when all the girls started swarming to me. Being the best, being the sexiest ... It just came naturally to me.

Eventually my dad wanted to go back to District 9 though. He said he missed it and wanted to show me it, maybe give me some kind of hands on life of being a citizen in a District. He said it was much different, although I couldn't see how it was ... either way it was life as me. Also known as perfection. I found that maybe a District required more hard work and dedication and made a promise to myself to try and improve those traits in myself. I eventually was introduced to my grandparents who seemed quite delighted to see me or at least finally learn that I exist. But they did hide horror inside them. I could tell they were scared for me, hated Quincy even more for putting me through the life that he created for me, but they were still happy to have a grandchild. And honestly, I was happy to meet them, they were nice people, no matter how unfairly they had treated my dad or how badly they had crushed his dreams. I guess I love them.

So far my life has consisted of hard work and dedication to one thing and one thing alone - The Games. Sure I care for my dad and my grandparents and girls, but the Games really is my ultimate goal in life.