Decatur Foley (Peacekeeper D10)

The reverberation of rubber boots and concrete colliding echoed through the halls, the rhythmic vibrations synchronizing the heartbeats of the pale-suited men. The tips of their finned helmets reached different heights, but no one man was above the rest. Their eye shields were all clear and transparent; the chinstraps tugged tightly at their jaw lines, almost forcing them to stand at attention. But physical force was absolutely unnecessary, for these men were in it for the long haul. Motives didn’t matter because they were committed to the cause. They were all there to help keep the peace; it was their job to maintain order. That was the law of the Peacekeepers. That was the law of Panem.

No one man could ever save the world from destruction. Too many men wish to see the world burn to the ground; but it was Decatur Foley’s job to make sure those men never saw the light of day again. There was no cape dangling from this man’s shoulders. Underwear didn’t wrap itself tightly around a layer of strangely colored tights, and there was no emblem on his chest. He had no alias, no call sign, and no nicknames. There was no need to hide his identity. He was no superhero; he was something far more ferocious than that. He was vigilant.

His dark brown hair was cut into regulation length, tapering off in the back to fade into his darkened skin. The sun had brightened the tips of his hair rather nicely; Foley had absorbed his fair share of radiation by spending countless hours training as a on the mountaintops and as a result his skin was a beautiful hue of olive. Seeing yourself in the reflection of Decatur Foley’s shining caramel eyes was not something a criminal wanted to do. Usually it meant immediate detainment, it meant that your image was imprinted in his brain. Once Foley knew who you were, living a life a crime seemed exponentially more difficult.

As expected, Decatur Foley’s features were cold and hard; any hint of warmth or measure of love had been expelled along with any feelings of mercy or empathy. Wrinkles jutted across his forehead when he was angry. Even though the corners of his lips were turned upward, there was no mistaking his the way his lips fell naturally for a smile. His lips were tight and thin, they were a mix of pink and brown commonly seen with those of his skin color. His eyebrows were thick and bushy; in between them sat a lightly layered uni-brow that he had never taken the time to take care of. It wasn’t as if you could really notice it through the eye shields anyway.

The rest of his face was grizzled with a lighter hue of hair than the blades that grew from his scalp. Occasionally his face was completely clean-shaven; but the majority of the time a neatly trimmed shadow rested on his face.

Decatur was an unbelievably fit man. After all, what use is an out of shape Peacekeeper? He was of average height and his body was lean; he had a body built for speed, but his strength was nothing to laugh at. His body was stained throughout with scars and birthmarks, his face had a mole on it’s left cheek, but no matter how many offers he would get from those kooks who called themselves plastic surgeons in the Capitol, Decatur Foley had no intention of changing anything about the way he looked. In a city filled to the brim with complex look, Decatur severely preferred his simplicity, and it worked for him.

His style wasn’t anything noticeable. He had resound himself to basic shirts with no designs, a pair of jeans, and a pair of sneakers or boots that were relatively easy to run in. If he wasn’t wearing a uniform, he never had any accessories on his head. He never wore glasses unless they were protective goggles. There was no jewelry, jewelry got caught on things when it was time to run, and Decatur wasn’t going to have a single disadvantage when it came to his work.

The captain read off the names one-by-one, assigning each Peacekeeper to a district. Decatur knew there was plenty of drugs clean up in district six. There was gang violence in district one, and there was of course the recent rebellion in district ten. He had applied for all of them, knowing that his presence among the other Peacekeepers would inspire fear in the hearts of any criminal, and as his name was called, he smiled as he heard the number ten come from the captains mouth.

District ten would be interesting. There was a recent little riot there, from the last reapings, and the security would be absolutely ramped up for the next one. No one was going to riot with Decatur there. He would personally squeeze the life out of any chaotic rebellion. He would use his long slender fingers to choke the life out of anyone that threatened the stability of this great country. Panem was him homeland, and he would do anything to fight for his home. And he was good at fighting.

Physically, Decatur was dominant, but mentally his strength was unparalleled. He had the willpower of a mother bear protecting her cubs, and he had the ferocity to match. He was a master predictor of crime, he knew which people were bad and which were good; to him, there was no grey. If you’re doing something illegal, you should be punished with the full force of the law, and if you weren’t, you should be allowed to live in a place you know is free of crime. The people of district ten would surely hate him at first; but they’ll be happier once they realize a world without crime is a world without pain. Atleast, that’s the way Decatur Foley had looked at it.

Decautur had never really been a fan of change. With change came complications, with complications came unpredictability, and with so much unpredictability came chaos. Chaos was something Decatur despised. But this sort of change was different, it was good for the country, and it was good for him. Decatur is highly adaptable, he can handle almost anything thrown at him and doesn’t hesitate to do what he feels will get him to his goals the quickest. This change would bring about more control; by sending him to one of the unruliest districts; the Peacekeepers were eliminating the chaos, not adding to it. He had witnessed plenty of death and destruction at the hands of those who use chaos for personal benefit. People pretend to fight for a greater cause, but they only fight for themselves. Like looters in the middle of a riot, people choose the side where they have the most to gain. Decatur was no different.

Decatur only fought for control because he wanted it, not because the orders were given to him. He followed the structural system of the Peacekeepers not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Organization leads to efficiency, and they would need to be efficient in order to control such a large group of people. If all the districts could somehow get together, they would have a good chance at actually overthrowing the government; but that wouldn’t happen, because Decatur didn’t want it. One by one, he would make people see things his way, and if he were unable to do that, those people would end up arrested, or dead.

Decatur is an intense man. Outwardly, his emotions were held in check. He had never let anyone know what he was feeling; part of it was a lack of trust, part of it was not wanting anyone to mistake his thoughts for vulnerability, but most of it was just habit. Even as a child, he never complained or cried. If he wanted something done, he did it himself because only he could do it right.

His childhood was not a simple one. His father had been a merchant in the capital, and some times were better than others. His family was consistently on the move; like gypsies they scattered. They sold random goods to people in the streets, and they never stayed in the same place for more than a week. Decatur envied those who had a normal lifestyle. He longed for companionship, he wanted nothing more that to go to school and learn. He wanted to figure out what he was going to do with his life; being a traveling merchant wasn’t something that appealed to him.

Decatur’s mother helped out with the stand. Sometimes she bought wool and linen and made her only little trinkets; her hands were so skilled that even some of the local shop owners had asked her to make a few items for their shops. Decatur loved his mother with all his heart. Before her death, he may not have been the most amiable of children, but he was definitely more outgoing, and far less concerned with the difference between right and wrong.

Even in the Capitol, there are those who cannot deal with the idea of government or social order. A small riot incited in an area where his father had set up shop; Decatur’s father screamed for his wife and son to get away to safety, he wanted to preserve his goods and his shop. His father’s didn’t fear death, for no means of living would certainly result in it either way. Decatur and his mother were close to escape, but the riot only grew as people ran in every direction. Tripping on the hem of her dress, Decatur’s mother was trampled by a stamped of rioters. Decatur stood watching every second of her death. He tried to get to her, but he couldn’t. She was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it.

His father found him amongst the crowd, and when he heard the news of his wife; he was completely distraught. They moved from neighborhood to neighborhood, Decatur and his father hardly ever spoke, each of them silently blaming the other for the death of the woman they loved. Eventually, Decatur joined the academy, rising up the ranks. His only goal was to prevent deaths like his mother, riots were no good for anyone. Chaos must be controlled, and Decatur Foley is just the peacekeeper to do it.