That's a Big Beastie // [Gangsters vs. Mutts Day 2]

<><><><><><><>

I've always felt more sheltered in the shapes of the shadows. When night comes crawling through the sky stretched branches of the living sky scrapers, my mind melts into an alert sense of ease. My ears are perked yet my body is bending into a state of rest beside a nearby trunk. Even in the cloak of darkness, no nature other than the giants roam these woods. Not a single cricket sings its song. Not a single owl hoots hovering somewhere slightly out of sight. Not even a mouse manages to scurry and scuttle through the fallen leaves of the forest floor. It's as though this world's will of life exists solely in the heart of these trees forever reaching for the heavens. Perhaps this was their punishment for coming so close to the Gods, an eternity of nothingness. Alas, now they are not alone and instead stand as witnesses to a fresh slaughter summoned by the same vehement Gods. 

From my side, my sister stirs despite it being my time to watch for lurking dangers. I'm certain she too feels the same pull to life beneath the lost light of the missing moon. I am curious as why the sky seems so muted by an undetectable source of light, but I am sure such a question will come to be answered in time. For now I focus on the flicking face of Auto as her eyes shutter into slits, a sign of her undeniable presence away from her realm of slumber. As much as I long to adventure with her through the arena allowing our atrocities to bring full fear into the faces of our opponents, I am well aware such actions are more risky than worth it. So with a sarcastic roll of my eyes I set a slight flick across the tip of her nose. 

"Get more sleep. Our job is in the morning."

Sure as thunder follows lightning her voice follows mine. An obvious sentence of denial slips from her lips, but in this moment I won't submit. I'm sure she knows as much as I do that with our current states of slit skin and bruised bodies, we need rest in order to fight with the fiercest fires of our existence. I wonder what we would have doing this night back home among sewer stained streets and empty alleyways. What ways Father would find to exploit us, to control us. Yet as anger floods my veins thinking of the man of our making, I know she sees him differently. Despite the damage he's dealt and the scars he has left staining our skins and our souls, a brightly burning fire of desire to impress him lives inside her center. She finds euphoria beneath the wings of the devil while I find eternal damnation. But as much as I despise acceptance of such beliefs, there are moments like now where it can be beneficial. 

"Don't give me that crap," I say with a tone sewn together by teasing, "If we don't sleep we can't prove ourselves to Him. So sleep."

The words taint my tongue with unrelenting bile, but I control my urge to bite them back. Although she knows my stance she is well aware such sentences only ever leave my lips in times of absolute seriousness. So the slits of her eyes shut and she ventures back down a road leading her to the lands of her dreams. I question whether she sees similar scenes to myself when welcoming the kiss the of sleep. Does her mind amalgamate with my visions of swirling star dust and circling winds of golden glory? Does she find herself in a state of rapture before the pandemonium of a world where she can reap treasures to the tantamount degree? Does she see herself as more than a mortal girl beaten by her Father? Does she see herself as something more, something freer? Because I do. I see it every time, an ever lasting reminder of what happens when love transfigures into betrayal. 

By the time fatigue finally begins taking possession of my figure, Maxwell is rising from his own time of sleep. Out of all those with me among these trees of life leeching abilities, he is the one who remains an unaccounted for integer. The equation of success which has been spawning in my psyche since the second Auto was called for a sentence in Hell desires definitions for all its variables. And in this present moment Maxwell is entirely undefined, however, there is something I innately like about him. There is a hunger to know more, to learn. And I suppose a scene like this where the world lays writing in darkness and uncertainty around us is as good as ever, even if its short. 

"Are you afraid at all?"

The question is simple but also complex. On a base level, it asks easily whether a certain emotion is present in his current emotional space. But dig down deeper into the heat and the heart of the question, there is an interest to know whether he holds confidence towards the terrors to come. I remember Father asking me the same question as I stood stunned before a bleeding boy not much older than myself. He had stolen from those who stole, a thief among thieves. His punishment was to be beaten into reconciliation. At that moment I was afraid and uncertain of my actions, but since that day, since my decision to accept the world and to survive within it, I haven't been. 

"I think I could be. But I won't be," my eyes looking towards my sleeping second half, "I can't afford the luxury of fear."

Our midnight moment ended shortly after that with my head heavily joining the fallen leaves on the forest floor. As always, I embraced my ascension into the ethereal dancing among the celestial constellations. I spin through furling flames of solar flares and fly with wings of golden grace. I live as angel of the cosmos weaving through an endless universe of mysteries and color. I exist entirely as a boy who is able to play knowing no limits of necessity or suffering. For a brief instance, I am just a jovial child of the heavens untouchable by the pains of reality. 

But these dreams die with the ascension of the sun.

In the hours of morning, our steps take far into the forest. My eyes watch our every step and search for any abnormalities. I already know there is one girl within this world with a brain as sharp as a sword and strong with skills of trapping. Although I have not seen Bette since entering this arena, I have no doubt she is utilizing every inch of her capabilities. She is a variable in my equation with an incredible potential for the destruction of the desire to steal the crown. She is absolutely intriguing and undoubtedly deadly.

A scent foreign and harsh comes over our pack's proceedings with a whirl of disgust. I feel my body lurch in response but refuse to release the few morsels of food still fighting off an unreal hunger within my stomach. Soon the scenery shifts to match the dreadful smell of decay. Trees turn to ruin and forest floor gives way to black bubbling death. Tar pits, natural and more wild than that of the items wielding by fire blessed warriors. We've reached a region which is nothing short of the Gods' hearts exposed here on earth:

Black and Destructive.

"Well this place sucks," I say turning towards the others with a look of annoyance angling my face, "You'd think Glamour would be the first person to not have such an ugly area in his arena."

Perhaps I should have thought more about dissing a God in his heartland for as soon as I do danger erupts. Teeth tear at my flesh and suddenly I am stumbling back with a hand pressed heavily to my head. An ear once there now lies in the stomach of one of the beasts. I pull out my sword turning to Maxwell with a short scoff.

"Still can't afford it," a smirk of pain tilts my cheeks upward as I look towards the thief of my ear, "Auto, let's go."

Then I drive forward without an inch of fear.

<><><><><><><>

<><><><><><><>

Night descends quicker than Carter would have expected. Shadows creeping up on them as the tall trees cover them from the sky and the pitch blackness eats away at them. The temperature drops with a chill to his teeth flashing a memory of camping the backyard in the middle of fall with Jack and Mitchell when they were younger. The time they spent fully awake through out the night telling scary stories and playing card games until the sun rose above. If only he could go back to those times where smiles felt genuine and not shrouded with inner pain. Pity on Jack's face and the irritability in his tone coming to life after Mitchell's death.

A sigh falls from his lips as Auto, Lars, and Max do their own thing, leaving him to his cards and under a tree of his own, back pressed hard to it with eyes scanning the area. Flipping reds and black over and over again with ease as the calming sound of flickering cards eases him in a place where no ease exists. Grounds him to the reality that death is at every corner, which is why he stays up and on his own for now. No need to worry the others, not on this night. The guilt of bloodbath filling his chest up as he can remember the blood of his allies who didn't deserve the wounds. Carter Laws was meant to be the threat, not the Thefts or Max. Bette's words in the hallway before Caesar Flickerman got his way with him rings in his ears.

I suppose we'll have to watch out for you.

Eyes were meant to be on him and never the others. The threat was himself with his deck of cards and axe wielding hand. Guilt feeds at his chest as he glances up to the twins talking and Max doing his own thing. In his heart, he can feel the uneasiness of wounds as he glances to where they had been. Now covered in needles and bandages to heal those spots, he gulps at the sight of Max, Lars, and Auto. They were injured because he couldn't protect them. Mitchell had always been better at that. Taking whippings for Jack. Protecting Desi, Asha, and Jenoah from dying in fights back to back. Sacrificing himself for the hit of a yeti, knowing it would be deadly. Knowing that meant Carter would be alone once again.

No tears come out, but his throat grows tighter as he shuts his eyes tightly, fingers splayed through his hair as he tries to catch his breath once more. Carter was useless in every way, just like the people who used to shove him told him. An eleven meant nothing if he couldn't hold down his stomach right after shoving trainers away from his body. He's not dead yet. He's not six feet under. He's still got life in him to push forward and protect them for as long as he can. A deep breath and his eyes catch the sight of the Ace of Spades. Indigo lips pursed together as he stares at the card with a long glare like it could vanish from his grip at any moment. Every heart comes with a spade, eyes glance over the Ace of Hearts and then to Lars before going back to his deck. Every diamond has a club, eyes glance at the Ace of Diamonds and then to Auto before he pulls the Ace of Clubs and looks to Max and back to the four aces in his hands.

With every Joker comes death, but the sky doesn't light up this night. Death's grip doesn't get anyone for the first day and he doesn't know whether to feel relief or disappointment. Shuffling the aces back into the deck, he puts them away into the box with Mitchell's sloppy handwriting in marker on the side. Fingers traces the letters that spell for Carter on the box. Putting the cards above where his heart is, he pats them before leaning back further and staring up at the trees reaching for the heavens.

Just like those trees, Carter reaches up towards the sky like he could reach for the leaves of the tall trees and pass them to the skies above and touch the stars. Dance among the stars with galaxies swirling about him and Mitchell could find him once more, questioning why he's never learned how to dance. He'd tell him that it's because his brother never taught him and they'd both laugh. Raisa Mortuus would visit in spirit, speaking to them and spreading information to the rest of the Laws, but death wasn't meant for him yet. Carter Laws was born to live and lives to die, whether it be throwing himself on the metaphorical spear to save the Thefts or Maxwell or just give up in the end for someone who deserves it, he can't help, but feel the tiny wings of hope spread on his back with the reminder of home in his chest and the words of Aranica Petros in his ears.

...you won't be alone.

As his eyes glance to the forms of Auto, Lars, and Max respectively, he can't help but feel the swell of his heart and the memories of how Mitchell's allies mourned him. Would they do that for him? A deep breath as he takes in their features with every second, knowing he's not as close to them right now, but he needed this moment to catch his breath. The Thefts with their bright blue eyes filled with the wonder of young children and yet the deadly quick hands that even he couldn't comprehend at times. Maxwell Temple, who is the prettiest boy he's ever met, despite the bruising and cuts upon his skin. Dark eyes that hold some pain that he's seen time and time again in twelve. A small smile fills his lips as he reapplies his indigo lipstick, putting it back in his collar afterwards before turning around and watching the blackness of the rest of the forest.

Unlike the night before, morning comes with the shrill of the fucking honking bird that belonged to Auto. A groan from his lips as he pushes himself off the tree, stretching his muscles and letting the bones crack up his back. Not the most comfortable sleep he's had, but definitely not the worst. No one wants to remember the time that Jack and him sneaked into the mines and came out the next morning covered in black. A chuckle falls from his lips as he remembers that day, despite his dislike for Jack right now. The annoyance of the bird is met with Auto's threat upon her tongue.

"Listen, Con - you better stop with that damn honking or you will be breakfast."

Humming his agreeance to her words before he feels his indigo lipstick still in place and a bit dry, but not that annoying yet that he's gonna smear it. A chuckle falls from his lips before he lets himself speak gently to Auto about her new pet, Con. The honking birds were obnoxious, just look at the failure he had committed the day before at catching one. A pushed away thought as he makes his annoyance of the early wake up known to the Theft.

"Jesus Christ, that bird better not do that every fucking morning or it will lose it's head."

Letting his words fill with sarcasm and humor among them, he watches everyone else wake up for the day before they begin to move into a land of blackness and the hot winds that goes through his body taking the chill of the foggy redwoods out of his mind. How strange the arena was with weather that changes the moment you walk somewhere else. Lars says words that others would think about in the land of blackness with heat surging around them and the ugly sign farther away from them and all Carter can do is shrug. Kinkade was an interesting man, but there were two gamemakers and his guess the other one was a lot less flashy and more practical than Glamour. Snow probably thought it would even out Glamour's in over his headness. A chuckle before he speaks out loud about the area.

"Useful is more of the descriptor I would use for this place, Lars. The black stuff is tar, easy to put on weapons and easier to light on fire. Could be very deadly and quite pretty too."

Eyes glance to Max as the sound of irregular steps comes to his ears. Glancing back to the creature that's too big to be a wolf and too much like a caramel color to be a bear that's charging him. Feet and instinct take over as he sidesteps away from the sharp clawed hand that comes at him, but only for him to find the teeth of some other wolf-like creature getting him lightly. Pain flourishes to life, but he doesn't scream and instead grunts as he swings his axe forward in a protective stance. Two wolves end up taking chunks from Lars and he can feel the panic in his chest set in as he stares at the wolves. Lars speaks about Auto and him going on the offensive and he can feel his heart begin to beat in his chest. The pack of cards slapping gently against his heart as he lets the panic fall. Feet move forward as he lets out his own words to Max and the Thefts.

"Fuck you, mutts. No one gets to hurt them."

Gritting his teeth, Carter moves effortlessly forward as he brings the axe to his lips giving the blade an indigo kiss on the side. No one got in the way of his family. Laws looked out for one another, blood or not, and they were now apart of the Laws family. They were now his friends. They wouldn't let him die alone and he wont let them die here. Fury in his veins as he watches Auto and Lars strike one of the wolves. Auto doing more damage to protect her twin brother and all he can do is feel the strain in his chest as the cards on his heart reminds him of how he couldn't do that for Mitchell. Words fall from his lips to Max before he lunges forward with his battleaxe.

"C'mon, Max"

If he couldn't do this for Mitchell, he would do it for Lars, Auto, and Max.

They were his family.

His friends.

His aces.

And he wouldn't let mutts get in the way of his family, not ever again.

<><><><><><><>

<><><><><><><>

The demonically crafted beasts intrude upon us with vicious intent, while the likes of us bite back just as brutally as though born to do so. A mashup of misfits union together in a manner never expected by even myself, bringing half towards their concluding demise within seconds. Revenge licks upon them unforgivingly, dividing them between us to ensure their ending. A smirk unravels across my features at the sight of Maxy and Carter battling against one, as though they were a set of twins themselves. The edges of my lips expanding even more at the unexpected pristine brew of the four of us together. Questions formed before on the reason behind our agreed teaming, and now all answers are met.

Another obnoxious honk barrels from my new companion, in the worst of times, while he flutters to the top of my head - my attention unaware to his warning. The smell consumes my senses before realization strikes on where my step placement has landed me. “Fucken shit-“ Foul language curls across my tongue with a rather literal meaning. It feels as though a layer of skin within my nostrils burn off from the overbearing smell of the feces that now coat my shoes. And to the add a perfection cherry on top of this crappy ice-cream sundae, the sadistic mutations refuse to escape from our raft of revenge.

Avoidance manages to prevent the odd Creature’s attempt at a chunk of me, it’s features and existence foreign and bewildering to me - while it’s fingers’ fangs are denied piercing me. Another divine wolf does manage to glide it’s teeth across my exterior, carving deep towards my core as though desperate for a mere bite of nutrients. Had these animals been starved by the Capitol’s strive to enhance their precious game? It’d be cruel, though in a moment such as now it doesn’t gain an ounce of sympathy from myself.

Time doesn’t halt with the consequences of the Capitol implanting upon my own skin, nor should it. A canon booms in the distance with a threat of what could be, and my mind’s unable to wander in thought of who’s life was just claimed. Larceny’s instructions boom through the horrid raft of smell that’s overtaking me, and automatically I comply to the plan he’s setting forth. Attention returns to the first monster our eyes set upon to demolish, prepared to destroy them one at a time.

“Ya’ll better go find your next meal elsewhere, or we’ll be frying you guys up for lunch!” Warns in a promise that surely we’ll keep. A festering wound lingers in infancy upon one of our target’s legs due to Larceny’s return rage. Much and more mingle upon another of a similar texture due to Maxy and Carter. My own weapon retrieves to a preparation stance in starvation for further blood, and strikes in determination to protect this unite of warriors.

<><><><><><><>

<><><><><><><>

My aim is true - the spear lodges itself in the muttation's leg, and holds firm. That can't be pleasant to live through.

I watch as combat unfolds, observe as I remove my jacket - and honestly, who decided that clothing me in an entire suit in this weather was a good idea? - leaving nothing but my slack-shorts and the uncomfortable shoes that came with the outfit on my body. Oh well, clothes are overrated, and I'm sure someone at home would enjoy the show.

Hah, who am I kidding. Unless skinny white boys are in right now, I suppose, I can cross that attempt at sponsorship off the list. Not that it really made it there in the first place.

But I digress. The twins, despite their lack of years, work together as a unit, engaging in a dance that is clearly one born of habit and repetition as they dance around their chosen target. Larceny slashes it across one thigh, while Auto shrugs off a gash from the third mutt to smack her target on the opposing foreleg, causing it - and the mutt - to collapse.

One down, three to go.

Its sibling is none too pleased at this outcome, as it launches itself at me with some pipe dream of revenge clouding its senses. I'm not quite sure if pain is clouding its judgement or just plain stupidity, but it does not take much effort to avoid the creature's teeth as it tries to take a bite out of my leg.

Carter tries to take its attention off of me, and perhaps trying to capitalize on the spear in its leg he sends his axe towards it as some sort of followup. But whether the mutt is quicker on its feet than we both expected or his aim was just off remains to be seen, for the beast manages to avoid any great injury.

That leaves my fate in my own hands. The thought tugs at the corners of my mouth - after all, wasn't that the philosophy I'd deemed most necessary when it came to survival?

Well, either way, putting down a mutt with my own hands surely wouldn't hurt any chances that I might have on the outside. And worst case scenario, it would make for some neat bragging rights.

For a second, I debate grabbing another spear from my stash - for the first one did do sizable damage - before deciding that, for the moment, I was fine. So instead I shift my remaining weapon - the throwing axe - from my right hand to my left, and without a second thought I throw.

Who knows? I think, grin growing wider. Sometimes axe-idents happen, after all.

<><><><><><><>

<><><><><><><>

Two hounds of Hell submit to eternal slumber beneath a storm of steel. Blood bakes the black of the earth a shadowy scarlet frosted over by our leeching life. A stare tethered to a stone soul watches as the demons wither from our wrath. I wonder whether this absent life of no emotion is equal to any other tribute's. Does anyone also feel entirely at ease when their blades bear into the flesh of other living beings? Do they smile too when their opposition lies in devastation? Probably not, I am a sadistic boy half of one whole. I'm probably alone in this state of existence aside from Auto. However, it's probably better that way. It makes me unafraid to steal the most sacred of possessions, life.

Pain pulses over many inches of my bleeding body, yet my eyes angle towards Auto. She seems in better shape than I am but still I know when it's time to escape. A window driven by the deaths of two enemies has opened, and as thieves not utilizing such windows can prove to be fatal. As much as my own internal instincts implore me to take flight first, I need to provide cover for Auto's own escape. I then will have to hope to join her shortly after. But I am already well aware of the flaw with this plan. Anger and refusal will plague Auto's entire entity, therefore, I must add another variable to this equation.

"You have my back and I have your's?"

I say with my eyes looking towards the most intact of us all. Carter has already proven his determination to stand beside me and now I know I need his help. If we combine our strength and our minds we can manage to keep the window open, to find a way for us all to get out of here alive. But it comes with known risk, another round of assault for the safety of our allies. It's a risk for my sister, for my other half, there is no sense of hesitation in my mind. Luckily, it seems there isn't any in his either.

As my fingers furl around the strength of my soul embedded in my sword I utilize the final variable. Maxwell stands strong and at the ready, but he can get Auto out. He's already found her once and now I'm trusting him to keep her safe and away again. Sometimes even the closest of souls must spend seconds apart.

"Maxwell, get her out of here. We're right behind you."

My eyes flash and my weight shifts. Despite the pain, despite Auto's screams of denial, I find focus. I find the meaning of this moment. I fight while she flees. I volunteered while she was reaped. I came to protect her while she came out of an unlucky draw. Now, I will do what I came here to do.

I will fight for our survival.

<><><><><><><>

<><><><><><><>

Barely a cut into the wolf's flesh as Carter watches it bleed. The indigo is now slightly covered in blood, but it's beautiful in a violent and bloody way. Not as pretty as Max, but he doesn't dare say that. Finger tips tighten on the handle as he hears the animals approaching. Maxwell cuts into the wolf, tearing it's life from it. Death was there taking those animals to the next life. They could hunt in the next world together and love one another. A deep breath as his chest heaves at the exhaustion in his bones, despite only cutting them barely. Words can't come together to explain the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Glamour Kinkade be damned, he doesn't agree with this care of animals. Animals that were supposed to be like the birds chirping in District Twelve or the dogs wagging their tails happily. In the arena, Tributes and Mutts were made for the slaughter. Death was coming for them all.

Pain bursts into his leg like Lex had done to him. Blood now coming from the wound and staining his slack as he flinches barely. The cards in his pocket hitting his chest as he yanks himself backwards from the animals. The doglike creature looks satisfied with the gash in his leg, but he can only feel the fear in his throat. No, he was supposed to be brave. He was supposed to be like Mitchell and face hell straight on with no feelings. He was supposed to tear down mutts, but right now all he could do was feel the pain spread. All he can do is gasp for a breath. A gasp that's filled with a little bit of pain and frustration. Words hit his ears.

"You have my back and I have your's?"

Lars has his back. Eyes glance to his friend, the thoughts in his mind threatening to peer out and then he looks to Max and Auto, both of which are injured just as much or more than him. Something in his chest gives as the weight of the cards comes down on his chest. The crushing feeling of worry that slides into his throat making it harder to breathe. Panics weren't allowed for now. Counting down his cards in his mind, he takes a deep breath of air. A long sigh coming from his throat as he can see Lars' idea pop up in his own mind. Words sent out to Maxwell like he trusted the guy to protect his sister. Carter would trust him with his sister. God, Carter would trust him with himself and that was even more than with his sisters.

"Maxwell, get her out of here. We're right behind you."

The sword comes down hard into the beast as Lars cuts deep into the creature. A holding of his breath comes as he notices the beast moving still and his heart tightens at the sight. Eyes glance to Auto and Max as he thinks this could be his own chance to tell Max. If he were to fall here, this would be it. They will leave Lars and Carter behind to deal with the mutts or escape. The thief and the boy with an eleven to deal with the creatures in front of them. He doesn't look, but he lets his voice speak out as he holds his axe tighter.

"Get out of here, Max and Auto. We'll be there soon."

Silence as he takes a deep breath and looks back giving them both a smile that isn't fake.

"Don't worry, I promise to bring him back, Auto. And Max, don't worry, I'll make sure to tell you how pretty you are when we get back."

A wink as he focuses back on the creatures letting his heart pulse faster and his axe pointed at the mutts. Feet take him and he's terrified, but he needs to make through with his promise. Laws don't break promises. Mitchell didn't and Carter would follow his legacy. Everyone deserved to live. Everyone deserved to create their legacy. Everyone deserved to have family and he wasn't going to let some creatures tear Lars away from Auto. Like Jenoah, he would pray to a false god and swing with everything he has. The charge was faster than he expected as he swung the axe forward.

He won't let the mutts get past.

He won't let them get to the prettiest boy he knows and the person Lars needed the most.

Not today and not ever.

This was his promise.

Carter Laws was born to protect them.

And he wouldn't let these mutts get past him.

<><><><><><><>