trespassing in no man's land || {Meghan}

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d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel
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call me jaded

trespassing in no man's land || {Meghan} Dec 6, 2015 11:51:12 GMT -5

Quote

Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Dec 6, 2015 11:51:12 GMT -5

[googlefont="Architects Daughter"]

Keyser Summit

When will this all end, the exile that I have forced myself to endure for such a long time? I don’t even know how long I have been gone for...eight...maybe ten…eleven years? Time is just a luxury but lately, I have been craving it. I need more time. More time to live, more time to find somewhere to settle…find people to settle with. But I can’t. I am not the person to ’settle down.’ I don’t have a concept of time. I am just one man by himself, playing the world like a deck of cards. My past is just a distant memory and I am ready to create my own history; something for the world to remember.

But that history won’t begin here…in District Nine…Eight…I don’t even know where I am but for sure I am not staying in this slum.

Surrounded by fields of crops, I am for sure in one of the lower Districts, most likely Ten. Dotted across the perimeter of the many fields are trees filled with winter fruits. Despite being swamped with wooden fortresses, this is definitely not home. I have never gone back to Seven since I hopped that fence. What is the point? I left there for a good reason, my family won’t mind me not paying a visit; they probably think I am dead. With the words I have heard flutter through the forest, they’ll have a lot more to worry about; seeing as one of our own was taken in the games. It’s a good thing they were.

Having a cull on the Summit family will help keep the numbers down. My siblings and cousins are reproducing far too often. I wouldn’t mind a quell where they just reaped Summits, we have enough children to suffice the Capitol’s needs. Those games will likely be the first I pay attention too, just so I can laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

Trudging through the damp soil, frustration would consume me as mud begins to paint itself on my boots. And I only just cleaned them.

My food supply is dwindling and I need to fill it before winter consumes the resources in the Districts. District Ten seems to be the best bet to grab a few things.

Approaching a farm, I can see nobody out on the fields. A small stone thatched cottage sits in the middle of various crop fields. Wheat, winter vegetables and what seems to be an orchard are dotted around it. Flickering through the glass window, a fire pumps out smoke through the bricked chimney which lives on the roof. Ooh, how I’d love to be keeping warm by that fire. An old welcoming aroma fills my nostrils, burning wood. Despite disliking my home, there are still the few odd things that I crave, be it the sweet scent of burning ash.

Calling my name, the orchard seems the best bet to retrieve some foods. Stepping into the bustle of trees carefully, I’d trot down the rows, identifying them to be pear trees. Perfect. Pulling the black bag from my shoulder, I’d un-zip it before filling it with the best pears. Saving the purest one I’d bite into it. As the juice runs down my throat, I’d drop the bag besides my feet and relish the taste. Oh how I have missed the taste of fruit.

”Ough!” Darting through the gap of the trees, a pitchfork just misses piercing my eyes. Pulling my face back, I am met by a much older man through the trees as he keeps the weapon in hand. ”What are you doing?” Jumping through a gap, the man lands directly in front of me; nearly taking me out with the fork again.

Continuing the chew the piece of pear, I’d swallow it before replying to the older smaller man. ”Just taking my fair share of food.” Disgruntled, the man would jab the fork towards me again, his face resembling the tomatoes that are in the field opposite us.

”Not from here you are not! Who even are you?” Taking another bite of the pear, I’d eye the bag that lies behind the man, quickly planning my get-away. ”Nobody for you to worry about. I am not from here, so I’d best be off.” Quickly stepping behind the man, I’d grab the opened by and pull it to my chest.

”You’re not from Eleven are you?” Zipping up the bag,I’d eye the man as he follows me with the fork to my face. ”I did just say I am not from here,” Grabbing a prong on the fork, I’d push it down from my face. ”You could poke somebody’s eye out with that you know.” Pulling the bag back onto my shoulders, I’d begin to walk away slowly. ”Give me that bag!”

Following me as I commenced with my get-away the man had drawn the line with my personal space, as he grabs me by the shoulder. With the pitchfork being left behind where we once stood, it was the best chance for me to thank the man for his hospitality. Spinning around as he dragged me back, I’d send the back of my hand to his face. The force of the hit would send the frail old man to the ground. ”The only bag you need sir, is a body bag.”

Forcing myself into a full-speed pelt, I’d run across the crop fields, squishing the tomatoes as I do. The sound of shouting men would follow me as it seems others have discovered the poor old man on the ground. I need to get out of Eleven quickly. Fortunately, I only ventured to the farm closest to the fence line so was back at the perimeter in a matter of minutes. Popping through the hole that I had entered, I’d be back into limbo…back in the safe zone.

Getting as far away from the fence as I could, it seemed the army of white was patrolling the area. Shit. Jumping into the nearest shrub, I’d take shelter in the leaves, hoping the peacekeepers are blind to my location.

Last Edit: Dec 8, 2015 18:08:38 GMT -5 by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel

Meghan
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trespassing in no man's land || {Meghan} Dec 6, 2015 21:11:25 GMT -5

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Post by Meghan on Dec 6, 2015 21:11:25 GMT -5

I have observed my subject for a stretch of about three seasons. His wholly nonpartisan nature intoxicated my attention in the midst of a rather grueling stretch of nothingness. Projects these days were coveted as scientific expertise was lost in a crack-down of control and rigid authority. Peacekeeping was perfectly tedious for a man of my qualification. I yearned for adventure, commotion, and straightforward opportunities for sure-fire measurement of human nature. The games caused no turmoil in my scheming heart. Despite the Capitol's first-rate effort to create a more dramatic and laudable spectacle, it no longer held any conundrum to my astute brilliance. Child's-play, they defined it, nothing worthy of my precious scrutiny.

I was assured of Captain Kirk's ready inclination to allow a small reprieve from my then prevailing responsibilities. Research was not nearly enough of a priority to constitute the nonstop attention of the First Science Officer of the Enterprise. We possessed no subject of significance in light of the agonizing attempts of the Capitol to reinforce their security. Intellectual babble could wait, even on a craft fine-tuned for such pursuits. Kirk granted my request cheerfully and I quickly embarked on an exploit simply my own. I handed the reigns, impermanently of course, to an eager neophyte who was determined to prove himself to my impassive eye. With tremendous luck he may succeed in this endeavor, but I suspected quite the opposite. No mortal had garnered enough wit or brain to warrant my respect in quite some time. Indeed, only Kirk had ever held this honor. The rest of them were nothing more than a gang of blathering baboons. Fools in the pure sense of the word.

The idea of freedom was novel to my disciplined eye. Through frugal spending and a lack of typical expenses (prodigal men such as myself had no time for trifle affairs, and though I existed for a respectable twenty-eight years, the suggestion of romance was not-yet something I pursued, even with my particular position within the peacekeeping force that exempted me from the usual string of celibacy required in our service), I had more than enough cash saved for such an occasion as this. I hired a young widow to tend the garden of my modest home and keep my affairs in reasonable order, and then set out for what one could argue as innovation.

I intended to amass a vast knowledge of the wild and its savage inhabitants. This information would be beneficial to the golden center of our nation. They thirsted for complete authority across our land, yet they lacked any pragmatic judgement for such a feat. Our politicians displayed a decent appearance to their charges, but their minds were unsophisticated. They relied too heavily on their passionate domination, as well as the abundance of goods the districts fearfully supplied. Without understanding of the uncharted, strange land that encircled our nation, we would shatter at the tiniest revolution. Fortitude only afforded so much wiggle-room. Opposition could leave us helpless and at the will of the simple-minded populace. I savored the luxury my homeland afforded me. I was not willing to submit to an authority that wanted to see an uninspiring people-group thrive.

Feasibly, I could be overtly bias. This was certainly a consideration I could interpret, but it was easier to acknowledge the fact that I simply did not care. The majority of my species was beneath my sympathy. I lacked compassion for their needs or preferences. Aside from my own comfort, I appreciated the little liberty my occupation afforded me. Trekking through landscape was perhaps not the most glamorous of research methods, but I have always been an honest scientist. If I wanted to transplant myself into the eyes of a brute, I had to adopt at least some of their careless behavior.

It was merely a stroke of luck that I stumbled upon my current subject. I had heard his name in rumors among my colleagues. He had been evading them for years despite his tendency to enter territories where catching him should be almost mindless. Peacekeepers were notoriously dense, however, so it came as no surprise that the man had managed to outsmart them. He had escaped from District Seven at least ten years before the current day, a relative of a tribute from the 70th Hunger Games. Keyser Summit. Precisely the subject matter I longed for. I happened, perchance, to find him wandering around a district in one of my routine visits. This was the precious gold needed to justify my research. I followed him.

Without a doubt his capture and interrogation (for scientific benefit, of course) would bring well-deserved praise to the intellectual community. We were so often overlooked that we needed a little glory now and again. I certainly had an intention of setting him free after a minute rendezvous. He would not make a good servant, and I had not the heart to sentence such a foolish thing to a pointless death. Brutality was not my forte, and I did not strive to change that. Nonetheless, the swine had become far too convinced of his own invincibility for my taste. It would benefit him to learn a hint of submission. I could only in good-conscious release him if I could perceive him as being less of a threat due to my mingling.

I tracked the man through the woods for what seemed like a lifetime. He appeared to enjoy its company as long as he had enough resources. I gathered my own nutrients from the plants and nature around me. I was never one for meat, and I could summon a hovercraft easily enough. My visits to the districts were frequent. This man was not difficult to find, and I could easily jut away for a moment or two to stock up on supplies before following him into the exotic once more.

It seemed his supply had dwindled at last. My subject meandered in the fields of Eleven in search of food. I paid a visit to the market and restored my sack of perishables. Whilst the untamed crops of the forest certainly had an offbeat pleasure, my appetite hungered for the refined variety the district offered. My interaction with the merchant was polite and courteous. I was far too dirty to really afford proper society. I made a point to stop at a peacekeeper station to shower and gather winter supplies before I continued my haunt of the ragged man. There was small doubt that he would be at a farm close to the border. I located one and approached it with a misty step and calculated observance. The man was stealing fruit, of all things. Quite typical. His behavior in such environments enthralled me. As he interacted with a farmer I took careful notes, drawing particular pleasure from the small scuffle he executed in this visit.

I followed his flight with a calm pace of my own, stopping only to help the elderly farmer to his feet. I stayed about an eighth of a mile to the left of my frightened subject. He would not suspect me with the group of young and excited peacekeepers in hot pursuit. They were screaming and firing at the ground at his feet. They were unlikely to catch him. They feared the unknown, and the forest was a danger even to them. The man disappeared through the fence and into the treeline and I watched, amused as they circled the area.

After a few minutes of idiotic arguing, I approached the peacekeepers with my badge in the air. First Officer and Science Officer of the Enterprise it read in big, yellow letters. They nodded their heads respectfully as I approached. My position was known, even here.

"Return to your stations, if you may," I instructed the lads as I approached the fence. "I will locate the barbarian." There was a chorus of murmured acknowledgement and verbal submission as the men scattered. I smiled at them as they retreated, and wiggled my way through the fence myself. Today seemed a good as day as any to finally capture my subject. He would surely be cowering in fear somewhere nearby. Hiding was more prudent to avoid detection.

I follow his wild path with a nearly silent stride and locate the large bush where it ends. He cannot see me from his vantage point, so I skirt a wide circle through the treeline until I am behind his little hiding spot. He seems far too distracted with the group that previously pursued him. Perfect.

I withdraw a gun from my pouch and tiptoe through the dirt. My heart drums a cadence of elation. This is the moment I yearned for throughout this trek. Months of observation were about to crescendo in the great finale. For this, I felt grateful.

I swiftly launched my body forward and pressed the barrel of my gun to my subject's head. I threw my arm down to grab hold of his shoulders and yanked his ear to my mouth.

"Greetings, Summit." I purred with a nearly silent breath.

Words: 1505

d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel
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call me jaded

trespassing in no man's land || {Meghan} Dec 7, 2015 9:09:25 GMT -5

Quote

Post by d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel on Dec 7, 2015 9:09:25 GMT -5

[googlefont="Architects Daughter"]

Keyser Summit

Hooligans have been at my heels for a decade. Pansies draped in white armour, prancing around with their firearms. Authority means nothing to me, I don’t see myself to be one to give in to a so called ’leading figurative.’ Those that are in governance just claim to be rulers, I could claim to be a ruler myself. I could prance to some slum in District Twelve and say that ”I am the new mayor here.” They won’t know the truth; they’d still throw themselves to my feet and lick the ground I walk on. Humans exist to be ruled but I see myself as an anomaly in that theory. I’d rather not be a part of the drone sheep herd, I am the individual. I am the wolf in the midst of it all; ready to pounce on the shepherd at the front line.

Really, these policies that these political folk ’promise’ to implement are all nonsense. The Capitol just see’s us all as drones. Robotic machines that can easily be replaced not repaired. During my twenty-three years in District Seven, the policies that the mayor had promised were never to be seen. They’re all talk. The Capitol has strings attached to them all, withdrawing them from doing the right thing. For they know a rebellion will put their governance into turmoil. If one District stands up, the rest will follow suit. Everyone is just a coward, blind to the truth. They put up with their children being picked up and slaughtered; they just brush it off and continue to lick the arses of the Capitol.

Life was just like a conveyor belt. Everything running the same day in and day out and it all being switched off at the end of the day. Especially in District Seven, my life was like a routine, continuity was quite exceptional. Every day, I would drag myself from my bed and live by the timetabled life the Capitol had set me. This was one of a number of reasons, why I freed myself from it all. Who wants to live the same life every single day, with no change? No wonder so many citizens went doolally, I needed to escape before I became feeble-minded myself.

It wasn’t just the Capitol that influenced my get-away, my family being the may reason for my pursuit of freedom. I had too many chains wrapped around me, holding me back from living my own plotted life and a majority of those chains were held by my family. Living by family tradition is not in my forte, I didn’t want to be identical to my siblings and cousins and I could already see my reflection in their faces. They hid me away from the District, made me invisible; they physically encaged me in the basement of the house. Calling me names such as deranged maniac, when it was obvious I was more intelligent than them; I decided to live by the nicknames they had bestowed upon me.

Eventually, they freed me from my caged life but being forced to hack away at the trunks of wooden fortresses wasn’t enough to please me. I needed to get fully away from the District…from my family.

When the opportunity of my freedom sprung up, I captured it with open arms. I had no plan on what I would do or where I would go but that was defeating the whole object. I want to live an un-predictable life, why bother plotting it? With the bag I wear on my shoulders now and the clothes that were draped on me that day, I was gone. For sure over the years I have gone through many resources and for sure have grown in height since, my appearance has changed entirely. I am no longer the weak feeble-minded boy.I am now free,strong enough to fend for myself and for the past ten years I have been fighting off the enemies lurking at my shadows.

Having stumbled upon many wanderer camps in the forest, living the so called free-folk life it was not for me, I am one man by himself but it still doesn’t mean I cannot have the odd acquaintance. Having eyes in the forest gives me an upper advantage with the peacekeepers that are eager to have my head. I have many wanderer allies as well as the common citizen folk in various Districts that I have stumbled upon. Many needed physical persuasion to help me although a good majority were willing to assist me. I promised them favours and unlike the political hierarchy in Panem, I stayed true to them.

Recently, I stumbled upon a wanderer camp on the outskirts of District Six, full of the elderly. I needed food, they needed medical supplies. Hopping over the fence into Six and obtaining antibiotics was no problem for me and they traded me the meat supplies with no strings attached. Now I have allies and eyes around Six, they promise if I am there again, they’d signal any peacekeeper movements and I would protect them in return. I have many scenarios like this and the odd few gave me valuable information. Such as a niece of mine in the last Hunger Games as well as my name being mentioned in the barbaric army of Peacekeepers.

Boy, how that pleases me!

For ten years they have been on my trail and for ten years I have deceived them. The thought of my name fluttering through the midst of peacekeepers is exciting. I am probably known as mastermind criminal, who is far from the reach of the Capitol. I am rubbed in butter; I am too slippery for the peacekeepers to catch. Although it seems they’re taking a different approach on capturing me.

It is ridiculous really. One man has been on my scent for at least two…maybe three seasons. He thinks he is as invisible as me. Many a times I have seen his face in the forest, in the Districts, he does make it bluntly obvious. However I am going to carry on with the little game I have going, it is rather fun.

It is just as fun as hiding from these juvenile peacekeepers as I am right now.

Slouching against the vegetation, I’d have the backpack on my bag, unzipping it to retrieve another lush pear. Biting into it, I’d observe the movement of the ivory-plated men as they huff and puff through the soil.

Time pasts quickly, and it seems the hounds are unable to catch the fox’s scent.

Taking a bite of the pear, I’d zip up the bag, placing it besides me. I need to stay put for at least another hour and allow any pandemic that I have caused with my visit to Eleven to blow over.

However it seems my alone time is quickly annihilated. Met by the face of a gun, it is swiftly aimed to my head. Running my dark empty eyes to the man armed with the gun, I would recognise it to be... him.

The man who has been following me, alone.

”Oh, it’s nice to finally meet you, Mr Curly-Locks”. Being unaware of the fellow’s name, I’d acquired a nickname for him, something ridiculous to add to the whole amusement of the scenario. ”Enjoyed our little game of cat and mouse have you? Well now…it seems I am it!” Taking a bite of the pear that it still in the grip of my right hand, I’d chew it, un-phased by the whole situation.

Moving my left hand to the barrel of the gun, I’d try to maneuverer it away from my head. ”Now remove that gun before you blow out an important brain.”