Iracebeth Nightingale [Special Forces Peacekeeper]

ira nightingale

age thirty-two
special forces peacekeeper
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.//the past

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"Tell us...tell us about your past..."

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Tell you about my past? If you're sure you want to know? Well...
It really depends on what you mean by my past. I could tell you so many things. Of my childhood dreams, of my parents. Of loves once loved, dreams once crushed. I could tell you of my parents and my childhood home. I could tell you many things... yet what is it you want to know?

"Tell us everything..."

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If you're quite sure, I will tell you. Nobody is listening. Don't worry, I've checked - the room is secure. And of course... this is entirely for business purposes? Now, let me begin. Don't interrupt.

My past began thirty-two years ago, yet my life began much later than that. Of course, you wish to know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? Predictable. So, where was I? Thirty-two years ago, in the center of the capitol. Imagine it - a child born into a family with more money than they know what to do with. A family who cares for nothing but appearances and possessions and money. I cared little for any of these things, yet I cared little for anything.

My dreams? Well, as a child I dreamt of being a tribute, a victor, in the games. I watched them, unable to tear my eyes from the screen, and I loved them. Yet of course, for a Capitol child born to the daughter of a Game-maker, this could never be. My parents did not truly care for me - I was allowed to run freely as a child and do exactly as I pleased. It suited me, of course, yet I yearned for some grounding, some support, someone on which to base my ideas of right and of wrong. Parents, it turned out, let people down. I vowed never to have children.

I began training as a peace-keeper as soon as I was old enough to. All I wanted was to escape the Capitol, and this was the only way I could see. I went to all the right schools, used my parents to get me in with the right people. The fact that I was naturally ruthless and cold-hearted came to play here, too. Yet I was young. Foolish. I didn't understand that it wasn't just parents who couldn't be trusted. It was people.

"Go on, Storm..."

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Storm? Who dares to call me such a name? Only my idiot parents. I go by Iracebeth now. Ira. Now, hush. I thought I told you not to interrupt me? You asked me to talk, and talk I shall. Now, is that clear? I thought it might be.

Now...ah yes. People cannot be trusted. If you want a job done properly, do it yourself. As I said, I was stupid and young. In short, I fell for a boy, Henry, and I fell for him hard. He broke my heart when he left me, yet he did not leave me alone. He left me pregnant, with only myself and my dreams of grandeur to support me. I had said goodbye and good-riddance to my parents years ago, and now I was alone. Of course, Peacekeepers are forbidden to have children. And what I wanted was to be a Peacekeeper. So the child had to go. And go it went. Nobody ever found out about it, not even Henry. He left me bitter and heartbroken, untrusting and without guidance. So I guided myself, and now I am here. At this interview, standing before you.

Oh no, that is not everything that happened. You are right, of course. A suspicious miscarriage, neglectful parents and a broken heart could never have left me as bitter and untrusting as I am now. Of course, I did say I would tell you everything. So I shall finish what I started.

I was twenty when I committed my first murder. I guess I am driven by a need to control - stemming from my parents lack of control, perhaps - and a need for power. To progress and to prosper. To fill the hole that Henry left in my heart.

Anyway, I did what had to be done. I'm here now, am I not? I gained power. I was the first of the Special Forces Peacekeepers hired to deal with the rebels and the wanderers. The first. Yet I am not done. I shall not give up until I reach the top. I stop at nothing. There is no line.

I apologise. I'm afraid I got carried away with myself. Is there anything else you wish to know? Surely I have told you enough to be going with?

.//personality

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"Tell us about you...your personality..."

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Oh, this is just what I thought. Some kind of sick test, designed to test me. Well I'm not falling for it. This is meant to be a job interview - you are meant to be deciding on my personality, not me. Well, if I must. I do, after all, want the job. Very much.

I'm not going to talk about myself in a way that makes me seem insightful and special and modest. I'm going tell you what others say - what I have heard. My mother called me selfish - I guess this is true, to some degree. I only care for myself - yet who else should I care for. It is my job not to care for anyone, to have no ties. I fit that description perfectly. I've been described by many as ruthless, which is something I am proud of. I do not care for excuses or poor work.

That is to say, if I want something done right, I do it myself. Self-assured, maybe. Cold-hearted? Of course. Mesmerising - that was Henry - dear old Henry, never knew who's heart he was messing with until it was too late to go back.

Yes, I've killed people. People who stood in my way. People who deserved it. I'm not a manic, no, I'm far from it. I'm a realist. People have called me many things - complex, crazy, impossible. And in a way, it is true. I am many things. You ask me to talk about my personality, and somehow I mange to come up with an entire dictionary of words.

Motivated, yes. Driven, hardworking, merciless. Eh, it comes with age. Careless and inconsiderate are things I have been accused of many times. Never in my life have I been described as loving or cuddly or sweet - yet that is the way I like it.

Peacekeeper was a word I never understood. I have worked as one for eleven years now - yet never once have I felt as though my job was to maintain peace. Oh no, I am not questioning the ways nor the words of the Capitol - not one bit. President Snow has everything I want down to a tee. Hard work. Drive. Power and control. Maybe I will be like him. Maybe I will be more.

"And what are you...?"

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I'm not nice. And although I am often mistaken as such, I am not cruel. I am not, as I have been called, a slave-driver, nor am I a tyrant. I am me. Motivated. Knowing. Seductive and persuasive. Ira. The girl who refused to be called by her name, Storm, a storm in itself.

Unforgiving, yes, but not heartless. Never heartless. How can something be broken if it doesn't exist?

.//appearance

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"What do you look like...?"

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Oh please. This is getting beyond ridiculous. I'm standing right before you, and with the whole of Panem to ask of you choose to ask what I look like? Are you blind?

Of course. This is all part of the test. What are you testing? Truthfulness? Modesty? Well, I can assure you I am no great sight to behold. When I was young I was something of a beauty - soft skin, dark curls and cherry-red lips, yet now I am nothing. Age has taken it's toll on my features - what was once plump and filled with life now sags and is wrinkled. My eyes, once dark and intense, have dimmed to nothing. But why do you wish for me to tell you this? You want me to admit to you my greatest insecurities, maybe? Hand over a weapon for you to use? Well I care not for my looks, so you shan't find anything there.

"Elaborate..."

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All I'm saying is that if you are looking for something to use against me, I'm not going to hand...

"Elaborate on your looks...your appearance..."

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Oh. Well, I'm slender from my years of training, I guess. My cheeks are almost gaunt with age. Thirty is elder than it once was, I tell you. My body has not taken the years with grace.

My skin is still a porcelain white, my hands still smooth - the Capitol can do many things to a person, you know. I choose not to wear the make-up that others wear. My body remains free of tattoos. My clothes, while not on duty, are simple and elegant, however it is not always I who chooses them.

Wait...I must stop myself. I'm getting carried away again. How have you made me describe myself in such a way? I must want this job more than I know. Well, I hope I have passed your test.

"Not a test...questions...

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Questions, then. I don't care. It matters not to me. Oh. You wish for me to go on? Yet surely there is nothing else to say? My eyebrows? Well, they look like eyebrows, idiot. My hair is thick, dark and curly. I don't weigh an awful lot - don't ask me for my height or weight in figures - I don't know. A bit on the tall side, I guess. Slim. Dramatic-looking. Sharp features. High cheekbones. Full lips.

Ugh. A picture paints a thousand words, yes? Well I am standing right before you. That must be all?

"That is all..."

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