A public whipping (open)

Kevin-

His attention is now off of Jack because he knew right now all he could do was watch. So he went back to his pride of joy. He stopped for a little, not for the pain to subside for the thing infront of him but for kevin to take a rest with his hand. It made him tired and hurt a little from all the whipping. He moved toward the thing and looked. He could see tears somewhat on his face. Kevin knew it was probably from the pain.

He kind of smiled at the pain the thing was in. But it was not enough to suffice for the pain he was in. He looked down at his foot. The blood was still around the hole the bullet had penetrated. From just looking at it, it made him angry. He knew he had to make the other guy pay for the things mistake. But he didn't know if it was ok to do the same scaretactic to him. But then he figured it scared the crap out of this one so maybe it was.

He looked at the ripped skin boy and smiled and said to him,"I gonna go give your friend some special attention right now. So don't go anywhere. "He turned around and let the whip fall to the ground. He grabbed the empty pistol he had used the scare dev. He grabbed it and cocked it like it was loaded and turned to jack. But what he saw was someone near jack. This made him exremley pissed. He wondered who in their right mind had the guts to come up here during a whipping.

He walked toward jack and his companion, pointing the empty gun at jack. He yelled at both of them. " Who the hell is this person and what are they doing here. Last I checked you are intereferring with a peacekeeper whipping. I should arrest you for possibly trying to cause problems. But I will give you a chance to get out with your life before I have fun. Even though you look familiar and I can not put my finger on it you need to leave now. You have five secondds." He looked at the guy. Then back at jack. He wondered if jack had any fear in him with the gun pointed at his head. Only he knew the gun pointed at jack was not loaded.

TEXT DEVIDER (if you wish, you could just not have one)

Made of Nightmares, Haunted by Dreams
These voices won't stop calling me
Over and over



Please God, Help Me

The world is too bright for my contrasting character, but one does need substance to survive out in the light. The night gives graces where I can fill myself on someone else's misery. Here though, in the sun, all is too well written. Though, I must admit, I'd rather the day-walkers see me now rather than later. See what I can endure you flock of sheep. Many just cower at my image. A broken nose, scars across my face from where the girl tried to hurt me. There's even a bit of swelling here and there where she protested, but at least the darkness around my eye has gone down. You have to know you can hurt the reaper. Otherwise my nightly games will be too easy. And what man doesn't like a challenge? We put people through them daily and watch them face one another. I can only smile at the naïve attitude of them all.

I brush my hand through my hair and carry a bagged bottle in the other. No where near drunk or tipsy, though, but the spirits sure do help with the haziness of daylight. I like my lips and taste the wine from them. The dead sure do keep good alcohol. But of course they do. The people were saving it for another night, not expecting to get the good tastes before I came about. All they drank was whiskey and jack. I don't need those though. I'm a sophisticated man among barbarians. The taste is what I'm there for, not the feeling of despair that comes with the bottle. I have the girl to give me those feelings. She just barely escaped me too. Not even sure how... but the wine would help. Help with the day to come.

I scratch at my bandage and look up plainly at the new sight I have to behold. A simple Peacekeeper holding a whip, and a defenseless boy taking quite the beating. Well now... the day has just become interesting. He isn't what I would expect for a trouble maker though. The little guy is way to quiet to stir the pot. I'm too quiet to stir the pot. And hell, the Peacekeepers have been on my ass looking for a way to get me down. After all, they can't keep having the ranch owners die on them just because the helping hands want them dead. I can't help what my place in fate is. God demanded that this is what he wanted, and thus I have delievered.

I am here for the people.
And they here for me.

I lick my lips though once I see a man of interest. And interest he sure as hell is. The one no one ever wants dead. The one who made it out alive. And boy, was the reaper calling for him. Mace. What the hell was he even doing standing in front of the kid, he should have let what happened happen. Gotta be all righteous and mighty just because you killed some people. Like hell you do. Pisses me off to see such demeanor from the district's token since they can claim to have a winner. Who wants a winner like him anyways? All he's got on him is a crown for killing some kids. I've surpassed him beyond all aspects. and maybe I could show him.

The graves would need to be dug though, there were about three of them I'm sure to be on the Peacekeepers shit list now. And Mace was going to join them. Despite being a victor, the capitol would be able to not care. Or at least those running the capitol. The citizens would be crushed if anything were to happen to the precious District Ten victor, who lost a member in his family to the games. And if it were done under my guidance, the Peacekeepers would sure find me then. So then, what to do under these current restraints? I didn't like the Peacekeepers either. Maybe I could get a nice little coin out of this one.

I walk over, taking a quick swig of the wine and step up with the victor and some other man. Not even sure who he is. I look down at the boy who was being whipped and shake my head. Pathetic little rat, yet you're lucky the reaper hasn't set his sights on you today. For if Graves were sent after you, you sure as hell would be dead. Not alive. In the blissful world of pain. In what brings about the night.

"Is it out of turn to talk?" I speak, looking at the whip and then at Mace. Nothing he found precious was safe from this. "I don't think it'd be wise to do these things out in public. Last I remembered, there was a riot here once, and I'm sure you could start another by just pointing a gun at this man."

for what it's worth, I have a slow disease that sucked me dry... I always aim to please
but I nearly died

He could feel it, the spark in his tummy, warming him through. Maybe this is what he had once felt, maybe this was the precursor to rage, to having his fingers wrapped around one of his siblings' throats. Or maybe it was just a trick, because sometimes ice got so cold it felt white hot. He'd picked up an icicle that felt like that, outside of the cave that he and Alexander had holed up in for a night. The stick of ice had been pleasant at first, but then his warm fingers stuck to it, and it burned like fire. Much like the pinpricks in his gut.

He smelled the wine long before he registered that someone else had joined their pow wow. Riots. The district had been so hot that day, and it was a balm to him, even as things disintegrated. He had stayed far, far away from that mess, safe with Julian and his ignorance. Of course there was no avoiding them or the after math. A Peacekeeper - not this one, clearly - had come by not long after and reminded Mace of his duty to be seen out and about the district, to remind people that they had something worth fighting for, and worth keeping the peace for. That hadn't exactly sat well with Mace, but now, on this stage, he was reviewing the wisdom of that mandate.

He bobbed his head in silent agreement with the stranger, his arms folded over his chest, still standing defensively in front of Jack. He turned only slightly to listen to him speak, frowned at the questions he laid out. "No," was all he had time for, because he couldn't remember if Noreen had said anything about her children. She had only ever been concerned about the safety of her fetuses.

And then Jack dropped, pleading for his life more articulately than the boy bound. It occurred to Mace for the first time that he had not actually heard anything uttered by the boy, which was impressive. It amazed him that Jack - broken and on his knees - could have a soul more tortured on his own. But then Jack had gone through a sort of arena himself, and had lost more than a sibling to it. Mace's throat closed as he looked up to the Peacekeeper.

Mace looked down the barrel of the gun, and found only relief in its silky smooth interior.

He stared at it impassively, instead of staring at the man behind it. This was his out, this was the path that he had walked so many times in his mind. Was this what Arbor felt? The sweetness of letting go? But he couldn't quite see how his death would have prevented any of the district's strife. Perhaps he had even lessened it a little, as Alexander would have done in her district. He couldn't disagree with the sentiment, however. He was quite sure many people would have been better off if he had died, chief among them Alexander's family.

And he saw her, more vividly than he had in months, her ghostly eyes peeking out over her winter jackets, a hint of a smile while he practiced throwing knives in the cave. Her red, red blood staining the snow.

The gun shot rattled him, shook his cage and shattered the memories he clung to. Mace blinked, whipping his head around to check on Jack first, before looking to the gun, and then the boy. His leg bled, and still he made no sound. What sort of fortitude was that?

"It's Mace," he hissed, and then quite literally rammed his body weight into Jack, quite ready to walk away from this mess and never look back.