One, Two, Punch [Scope Standalone]

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S C O P E  O 'L E A R Y
Z i n g   L e e r

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Says, Thinks

Watching the Games was no speciality of mine, and for another thing I also hated it. I hated the forced violence and the way the kids are torn from their homes to be pit against each other so that twenty-three of them die. It's not about winning, it's abut not dying, and that's probably what I hate about it the most. I love my competitions, I love my fighting, but I only love them because I love winning - I don't love not losing. Not losing is different than winning, it's not being undefeated it just means you didn't lose. There's nothing of value to it and yet the Capitol insists that it's some massive honour to receive a crown and the title of Victor. As far as I'm concerned they aren't really victorious.

Maybe it's just because of seeing my brother go through the Games, my lanky, gentle, kind, self-sacrificing brother. I saw it change him, or at least brought out a side in him that I had never seen before. The Soap I knew would have never raised a fist against anyone, let alone throw axes and aim to kill. The Soap I knew didn't split skulls and sever fingers. The Soap I knew is gone now.

Well, maybe not truly gone. There's still traces of him in this new Soap, but for once it seems like Colgate fits him better than his nickname and it only shows that he is not the brother I remember. Sure, he was still lanky, still gentle, still kind, still self-sacrificing, but it wasn't the same. I've known him all my life, or the old him anyway, and I didn't know the new Soap when he stepped out of the train and came to join us for those few short days before being whisked away again. I didn't know him until he was finally home again and he could find stability enough in his life to draw out the person he used to be. I told no one but the tears I had cried when he had won, the shame of crying overwhelmed by the relief and the hatred of my own doubts, had returned when I saw just how much he had changed.

My brother, my brother, Colgate was different but I more than found it in my heart to forgive him. He had seen death, he had killed, he had cried and loved and fought. Everything he had done had shaped him, like he was a block of Soap to be carved, and now this new man had come home, freshly made. We all walked on eggshells around him and I'm not sure if he grew sick of it but I know that I didn't want to have to do it anymore.

Tired with being gentle I had gone and found a fight. It was the first fight I had gotten into since Soap got home - I'm still struggling with what to call him, he's changed but he's still Soap - and I went all out. The broken hand and nose, as well as the black eye and numerous bruises, were light wounds considering my lack of attention. I fought with a dark anger behind my eyes, blinding me but giving strength to my limbs, and it was the only thing to give me victory with my head where it was. That was true victory, not the dressed up sham the Capitol laid almost as a charge upon the last person alive in the arena. I couldn't complain too much, as it was the only reason why Colgate came back to us. If they just killed everyone losing someone wouldn't hurt so much because you would know it's coming.

But I should know, as I fighter, that bracing for a blow will do nothing but make it hurt more. Perhaps that's why my catharsis was so complete when I learned Soap was coming home. I could relax, loosen the tensed muscles and know I wouldn't be struck.

Then he went back to the Capitol, yanked away from us yet again by a Games he wasn't even in. All to babysit two kids that were just like he was last year, except they might not come back. Hell, he almost didn't come back. Ripred, I hope he doesn't take the deaths too hard. We all know at least one of his tributes have to die, but I just hope he doesn't blame himself. They can only have one victor, Soap, remember that.

When I watched Soap's boy tribute die in an attack in the Ghost town I nearly punched my television. Why was I watching the one thing I couldn't bear to see, the demon that had stolen my brother and replaced him with a doppelgänger - so similar and yet so different. The death of the boy - Nocturne Vargas - would probably hit my brother hard but he would have to shake it, remind himself that there was nothing he could do. The moment they stepped off that plate they were not his any more, he couldn't give them advice. I hoped he remembered that.

I remembered the girl - May Rhodes, I made it my duty to memorize their names - was still alive and fighting strong. She had already stabbed a boy in the eye, I think it was the one from Ten, and was aiding her alliance well. Surely Soap could hold enough pride in her to offset whatever disappointment he held in himself for Nocturne's death.

And then there was the District four girl, the blonde who seemed all fighter and yet all mess. I had seen the note she had waved wildly at the camera, the bubble blowing figure and the writing were so familiar that I recognized them instantly. What does Soap have to do with her? The longer I studied the girl, the more puzzled I got. She seemed to hold no or little love for either of her female allies, instead mainly paying attention to her District partner. Maybe too much attention. Are they together? But no, I had seen some of the boy's interactions with some of the other tributes, he seemed to get around fine. The girl on the other hand...

I shook my head, staring at the television screen in front of me. It wasn't showing me anything useful, just some image of the Career pack shuffling around. With the thing on mute I couldn't hear talking, if there was any. Soap, what's going on? I wish I could talk to my brother, but he was too far away. District nine was a distance from the Capitol and I would surely not be allowed to go and visit him. What have you gotten yourself into? If he was helping that girl from Four then he must have met her, have talked to her. He was too soft sometimes, he had gotten himself caught on a tribute and now no matter what happened he would lose two people he had put time into, Nocturne was already dead, but whether it was May or the Four girl that died, or both, before the victor was crowned it probably would hurt his brother all the same.

Sometimes I think you need help making decisions. No matter how hard I thought at my brother I was sure he wouldn't hear me. He might have been able to guess what I was thinking when we were younger, but I was much simpler back then. Everything was. Now it's all just a jumbled mess and I couldn't see a way out for any of us without more pain.

That's my brother, getting too involved in things.

Soap, just come home in one piece, alright?

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OOC: I'm sorry, I feel like this was just one big, messy ramble.