aftermath; Cass

charade
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Thinking

aftermath; Cass Apr 27, 2020 23:49:27 GMT -5

Post by charade on Apr 27, 2020 23:49:27 GMT -5

Sebastian Rothul

Already two years since Slate had come home in a box. If he closed his eyes he could still picture her crumpling to the ground after her arm had come flying off. Sebastian sighed. While he would never admit it to anyone, the younger members of The Pride were like his children. Weak! He reminded himself. Forming attachments like that got many a person killed.

You had to be tougher than that to survive in the grey-skied district that they called home. Still, he had to wonder why so many of them came to bad ends. Zanita, he thought, his chest tightening. He was certain that the rest of the original gang members were either dead in a ditch somewhere or rotting away in the detention center. And Slate—“

Sebastian grumbled. No use in dwelling on it. What was dead was dead. He was fairly certain that his number was going to up someday soon too. That’s just how district nine was; a small pond with too many fish and not enough food. The older he got the less sure he was that he was one of the sharks. There were younger faces now. Larger gangs, held together by the same threads that had once held him together. In fact, it seemed like they were springing up faster all the time.

Safe money put the bet on whatever poison was in the air.

He’d heard it said that people from district nine were more rough around the edges than most, and he believed it. Hardly a day went by without some kind of violence. Take the dilapidated warehouse he was currently nosing around in. There’d been a fight here. Word on the street said that it was the Seraphims and the Pride, which was something he found interesting, because as far as he knew, none of the Pride had been over here. If they had been, then he was going to have to crack a few skulls.

No unsanctioned rumbles, goddammit.

Not when the Capitol was cracking down, instituting a curfew because some jackass blew themselves up in another district.

Unfortunately, he found a bloody shirt with his mark. Fuck.

The inner circle knew better than to fuck around like this, but it seemed that there were some over-eager foot-soldiers around. He’d find them. He always did. Wouldn’t be too hard, considering the mess they’d made. Had any of them died here? If they hadn’t, he was going to finish the job himself, once he found them. Maybe ten people involved, he mused, surveying the damage. Here was a broken widow, there were some bloodstains that told him blades had seen some action.

Interestingly, it seemed like perhaps someone had been trying to clean. The tang of bleach was in the air. Sebastian paused and knelt, picking up and turning over a fragment of bone between his fingers. Chipped off a tooth. There was a noise and Sebastian straightened up instantly, his eyes quickly darting around. He hadn’t survived to the age of twenty-seven in district nine’s underground by taking stupid chances.

“You can come out,” he rumbled. “Don’t try anything stupid and you won’t get hurt.”

He wasn’t sure where they were, but he sensed someone, and he cursed himself for not paying more attention when he had entered. Who would it be? One of the Seraphims? A Pride footsoldier that needed a kick in the ass? Sebastian resisted the urge to pull out the blade he kept strapped to his boot and watched the shadows warily. There were more than a few places to hide, considering the rusting shelving and the old boxes and scraps of metal. The sun hadn’t set yet, but it was starting to dip just enough to make this a bad idea.

“I mean it,” he went on. “Be smart.”

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

cass
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aftermath; Cass Apr 28, 2020 21:45:46 GMT -5

Post by cass on Apr 28, 2020 21:45:46 GMT -5

we're colourblind from the black and white

but we've never burned so bright.

Another fight had escalated out of control. Tate had said that it wasn’t supposed to have happened like that, the gang that had been his area wasn’t supposed to be there, it had been a mistake, an accident, but it had been dealt with. The gentle tap on my door was all I had needed, knowing exactly what he had been after, slipping on my boots and pulling on my jacket I had slipped into the creeping darkness that filled the streets. There was comfort within the shadows, it would always soothe me, make me feel embraced by my history and life, reminding me that this was who I was. A figure to not be seen, not be heard.

I had a job to do, I tugged on the straps of my backpack, the tang of blood and violence filling the air as I moved closer to the location he had given me. It was an older building on the outskirts of Tate’s territory, but his territory nonetheless. The warehouse was dark, the gloom frosted over the landscape, and I noticed straight away two or three dead bodies sprawled in the dirt. None of them were recognizable and the clothing of their shirts bore an unfamiliar marking.

Surveying the room I dropped the backpack on the ground, blood splattered the walls, dusty, broken machinery, and layered the dust. The first thing was always to wrap the wounds on the bodies, there was no point in cleaning an area if the blood just kept spilling out. Plastic wrap was always the thing I used, covering it in material to try and hide the noise it would make as I tried to drag the bodies from the building. I got to work, investigating each body with an expert eye.

There was no need to check if they were dead, Tate would never let me in if he thought I would be in danger. It was the promise he had vowed to keep in blood on the day they had met. It had rung true for every situation I had been put in, even with the risk of more gunfights he would ensure I was safe, scoping out the place, or occasionally leaving me with one of his soldiers as I worked.

After the second body was wrapped I moved back to my backpack, the cleaning chemicals would mingle with the blood, allowing for a quick wipe away after it had soaked in. Pouring the chemicals over the patches, I moved around collecting the broken shards of glass that were flecked with blood. Anything that didn’t belong in the warehouse was tucked away to be disposed of later where no one would find it.

I froze, fingers wrapped around a blood-covered rock. Was my mind playing tricks on me or had I just heard the shuffle of feet on concrete? No. There it was again, louder footsteps, for a moment the confusion furrowed my brow, Tate had made no mention of another person coming by. In fact, he had said the location was so remote that he knew that Peacekeepers wouldn’t even come sniffing around. They had bigger things to concern themselves with, rounding up innocent people who strayed past the curfew, or knocking down doors to find the terrorists behind the bombings.

Instinct had me move, dashing towards the nearest machinery and ducking behind for cover. I was not familiar with the opposing gang, I had no idea what they were capable of or what they were like. I doubted they’d appreciate me dealing with their dead and making it all disappear. I did not fear death, well, I hadn’t, I thought, but it seemed that in the time that I had grown accustomed to being underneath Tate’s protection my beliefs had changed. For a person who had thrived in being nobody, Tate had the power to make you feel like you were worth something. I felt a desire to not disappoint him, and he would be disappointed if he found me dead. He had no one to replace me, well, no one who was as good as I at making things disappear.

The footsteps came closer, and I pushed myself down further, hand tightening around the rock.“You can come out,” he rumbled. “Don’t try anything stupid and you won’t get hurt.” It was terrifying, the voice was deep, echoing throughout the emptiness of the warehouse. His words held a loose threat that made my hands shake, I didn’t need to see him to know that my small, thin frame would be nothing against him. My hesitation seemed to bleed into the tension in the air, as the man spoke again, “I mean it, be smart.”

There was a quick weigh of my options, tossing them up like leaves in a breeze before gathering every ounce of courage I had. Knowing that being found, or trying to run could lead to more suffering than tackling this head-on. Tate will find someone to replace me, I took a deep breath, standing up in one fluid movement, the rock clattering to the ground as I let it go.

”I’m no one,” I said, stepping into the open, “I’ve got nothing you want.” I hoped that was true.

table by я𝑜𝓈𝑒

charade
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Thinking

aftermath; Cass Apr 28, 2020 23:27:50 GMT -5

Post by charade on Apr 28, 2020 23:27:50 GMT -5

Sebastian Rothul

Something clattered to the ground as she stepped into view. Probably a rock or some rebar. First mistake there, he thought. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, you never left yourself defenseless.

The kid was green. And people didn't last if they stayed green for too long.

Sebastian had to resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

I’m getting too old for this shit.

“Smells like bleach in here,” he said lazily, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “That seem strange to you?” Was this what the Seraphim’s had come to? Sending little slips like this to cleanup messes before the peacekeepers came checking? He didn’t bother to wait for a reply before continuing. “Sebastian. You got a name, no one?” For a moment, he toyed with the idea of announcing that he was the leader of a rival gang, but he decided to play that card close to his chest. Who knew if the little bird in front of him was alone. And even if she was alone, size didn’t mean she couldn’t be dangerous.

He leaned onto the wall closest him, a place that afforded him a great view of the nearest aisle, and also kept him square in the path to the entrance. The only thing that he was looking for was answers, and she was looking like his best chance of getting them. His eyes raked over her, analyzing, searching for weaknesses or details he could use to his advantage.

He came up empty.

She looked younger than eighteen. Thin. Pale. If he set his mind to it, he could probably snap all of her spindly limbs like firewood. But she wasn’t worth the effort it would take to dispose of. “There was a fight here.” He stated. “Some of my—“ he paused, searching for the right word. Colleagues? Employees? Soldiers? “—some acquaintances of mine were involved. You know anything about that?”

The blade strapped to his boot grew heavier. He hated dealing with unknown quantities, but it was a fact of life in the district. Gangs came and went like the seasons. Occasionally they stuck around long enough to be a thorn in the Capitol’s side. More often than not they clung to the shadows, not quite fading away, but not quite a tangible presence either. The grapevine sang with the implication that the current lockdown would light the fuse for another turf war, and if that was the case, allies were needed more than enemies.

At the forefront of his mind were the Crimson’s and the Sparrows, as they were at each other’s throats, but then, they always were. The Delacroix’s had been quiet lately, but he chalked that up to them losing one of their girls to the games a few years back. Didn’t mean they weren’t up to something. The Vindicta clan hadn’t made any waves in a while either. He was fairly certain that the Marbles were gone, and he hadn’t heard anything about the fight club in years. There were other, smaller gangs, but they were inconsequential at the moment.

He was old enough to remember the last major turf war, and that many of the smaller gangs had been annihilated or absorbed in the aftermath. While he doubted that the girl in front of him was in any position to speak for her people, any information he could glean from this encounter would be helpful.

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

cass
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aftermath; Cass Apr 30, 2020 19:49:54 GMT -5

Post by cass on Apr 30, 2020 19:49:54 GMT -5

we're colourblind from the black and white

but we've never burned so bright.

I knew that when I died there would be no mark left upon this world to say that I ever existed. My name would not be remembered, but would fade into the darkness and I would simply cease to be. I hoped that before that happened I would get to stare at the stars again, maybe they at least would remember who I was. My name is Max. It means nothing, a name that only really one person in the world knew, father had forgotten it at the bottom of a bottle. So, there was only Tate.

I didn’t think today would be a good day to die. Not until at least one more person would remember who I was.

The man towered over me, his form filling the space around him. My eyes widened, and I clenched my hands, trying my best to hide the quiver that was determined to reveal itself and tell the man that I was afraid. When he spoke it felt as though he was almost playing with a new toy in front of him, teasing me about the sting of bleach in the air. His mind shifted moments later, the topic changing as he introduced himself as Sebastian.

It was almost comical, the way in which he spoke, the control he radiated, knowing fully well that the situation was going to go his way. I couldn’t see it going any other way, really, if I wanted to leave this warehouse intact. My gaze shifted from his, eyes flitting around the room trying to remember which entrance I had entered through. Shit, I hadn’t always been so careless, but with Tate’s protection I had eased up on my rigid routines, trusting in his words without fail.

The burning feeling of his gaze as he racked over my ragged appearance had my eyes snapping back to meet his. “Max,” I said, hoping it would satisfy whatever he was searching for. I felt naked beneath his gaze, they were not kind eyes. They were not like my fathers, not like my mothers or Tate’s, but rather like the many men and women that I had disposed of. People with those eyes often died violent deaths.

”There was a fight here, some of my,” he hesitated, pausing to mull over his next words, my eyes narrowed, latching onto this small bit of information. What did it matter what term he chose to use? The thought behind the response was intentional, perhaps he was hiding something. He called them acquaintances, and I resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow at the term. There was formality to the word that was lost on me, it was something I had heard Tate say when he spoke about business dealings. There was a disconnection there, the people who had died here were not so familiar to Sebastian.

”There's three dead,” I glanced around the room, pointing at each of the dead bodies -one, two, three. “These three are your acquaintances,” I said.

I noticed the blood on my hand from the rock I’d grabbed, and I hurriedly tried to wipe it away on the back of my shirt. I look at Sebastian, “don’t know what they’re doing here or why. It’s not my job to know,” it’s followed with a delicate shrug. For a moment the tension within the air is forgotten as I’m once more in my element. This was what I knew and this was what I did and I was good at it.

”Were they important to you?” I dare to ask

charade
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Thinking

aftermath; Cass Apr 30, 2020 20:52:29 GMT -5

Post by charade on Apr 30, 2020 20:52:29 GMT -5

Sebastian Rothul

Max. Just Max. He turned the name over in his head and thought back to all the books his father had forced him to read before he’d run away from home. It meant Great, in a long-dead language if he was remembering right. A strange name for a girl that looked like she wanted nothing more than to be a part of the room. He’d seen the tarps, but a roll did not always mean a body. There were gunrunners, drug dealers and all manner of thuggery in the district.

It was unfortunate to hear that all three of the corpses had been his though. There was a chance that the Seraphim’s had taken their fallen with them when they left, but he didn’t have high hopes. If the three were the ones he was thinking of, they had been troublemakers too full of themselves to fall in line. Ah, well. He supposed that next time he held a meeting he’d see exactly who didn’t show up.

He laughed, the sudden cold sound echoing throughout the warehouse and crinkling his eyes, though he didn’t let them close. In this life, you never took your gaze off anyone if you could avoid it. He’d learned that the hard way as a youth, and the faded scar that ran through his right eyebrow and down to his cheek was an ever-present reminder of that.

“They were fools,” he grumbled. “Weak too, by the look of it.” He was a little more relaxed now, confident that she was indeed alone. If there had been more of them, he would have been jumped already. “No, they were unimportant,” he continued standing up straight and rolling out a kink in his neck. There was no point in not being straight-forward now. Truth be told, their deaths and the Seraphim’s cleaner solved three problems for him at once.

“They should have listened when they were told to stay in our territory and keep a low profile.”

Sebastian crossed his arms and smiled widely, baring his teeth in a feral grin the way he used to when he was a youth. “They were never going to rise far in my gang. I should thank your people for ridding me of their idiocy.” He took a two slow steps forward, his hands up to show he wasn’t going to harm her.

Not yet in any case.

He was still several steps away, but close enough that he could lunge with his knife if she tried to play the hero. “I’ll let you finish up your work here,” and he meant it. As far as he was concerned she was doing him a service. However, tensions were high in the district, and someone needed to do something before things got out of control. “But I’m going to need you to bring your boss a message.” He tilted his head to one side and looked down at her. “Is it still Tate Seraphim these days?”

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

cass
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aftermath; Cass May 5, 2020 5:54:46 GMT -5

Post by cass on May 5, 2020 5:54:46 GMT -5

we're colourblind from the black and white

but we've never burned so bright.

The laugh sent cold shivers running down my spine and I stiffened as the sound echoed throughout the empty warehouse. Even with the loudness of his voice and his cold, cold laugh they were too far away from the busier streets and I knew there was no one around. No one would hear it if I called for help.

I had never been a person to do so, and a sinking feeling in my stomach told me that even if he attacked me I would not scream. I would sure as hell fight or run, but I was not a person who called for help or asked for help. It was a part of who I was, I did the helping, no one helped me.

Sebastian continued speaking, rolling his shoulders and twisting his neck. The way he moved was predatory, like a lion staring at a mouse, and I took a step backward, feeling an instinctual need to put more distance between the two of us. Sebastian was all menace and shows of intimidation, proving once more that he was a force to be reckoned with as he smiled. It was a feral smile that reminded me of the look in my father's eyes just before he had killed mother.

I had only caught the smallest glimpse of that wild, untameable animalistic rage that had taken control of him. It had been but a flicker in his eyes, vanishing the moment he had pulled the trigger sending mother to her death. But in Sebastian’s eyes it gleamed with his smile, with the way he folded his arms. It was at the edge of his voice, and in the way he walked.

I didn’t like him.

He wasn’t like Tate, when I saw Tate I saw stars in his eyes, I saw kindness and a desire to be better and do better. When I looked at Sebastian I saw death, a glee that came from chaos and pride tethered by loss.

“They were never going to rise far in my gang. I should thank your people for ridding me of their idiocy.”

His gang.

I resisted the urge to move, trying my best to make no sound as the surprise curled in my stomach, turning the unease into a raging storm. So here I was, telling the leader of the gang that I was cleaning up three dead bodies. His dead bodies. As I tried to process this information Sebastian used it as an opportunity to move closer, taking two terrifying steps forward with raised hands. I took another step backward, knowing fully well that the wall behind me was creeping closer and closer.

It was a surprise when he told me to continue what I was doing, the tense set of my shoulders eased a bit and I raised a hand -the one not covered in blood, running it through my hair. There wasn’t any harm in confirming that Tate was in charge, well, at least I didn’t think there was. It seemed like common knowledge and considering this guy knew who Tate was it was simply reconfirming an uncertainty.

“He is,” I said. “You seem to think that I can pass along a message,” I look around at the room that we’re standing in, “I’m not in contact with Mr. Seraphim. I can’t help you with that.”

charade
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Thinking

aftermath; Cass May 5, 2020 20:39:34 GMT -5

Post by charade on May 5, 2020 20:39:34 GMT -5

Sebastian Rothul

Putting fear in someone was a valuable skill. It was a lesson his father had taught him while he wasted his life in the bottom of the bottle. Max was feeling it; whether she was aware that she was slowly inching backwards or not was up for debate. Sebastian knew he had that effect on people. What he wasn’t expecting however, was for a teenaged cleaner to say that she had no way of contacting her boss.

Mr.Seraphim.

Sebastian almost laughed a genuine laugh at that, but held it in. Time had a funny way of getting away from him, but he was fairly certain that the Seraphim triplets were only a couple years older than the girl in front of him. To command such respect that young. Or—no. No, It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d been a youth himself. Was this girl smitten with her boss? Oh, there it was. Yes, that had to be it. It was a story he’d seen a hundred times. It was what he tried to carve out for the Pride. Give the broken something to hold onto. A place to belong.

What was she doing, blatantly lying to him like that? Without thinking, he drew the knife from his boot and began to toy with it.

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose and ignored the animal that was uncoiling in his gut. Patience, he reminded himself. Instilling fear was enough; it was bad form to kill the messenger. Especially before they had delivered the message. Even though he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around her throat and shake her like a rag doll, he could not. She was either as dense as a sack of bricks or lying to him, and he wasn’t sure which one aggravated him more.

“Doubtful. You’re a cleaner. You don’t do anything unless your boss—sorry, Mr.Seraphim, okays it.” He waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t care. Get ahold of him. Or get ahold of someone who can bend his ear. And pay attention.” He practically growled, leaning forward into her personal space.

“The Pride will not seek retribution for what happened here. Those gutter rats acted rashly and without my approval. But I will not suffer any further insults.” There was a dangerous glint in his eye as he straightened back up. “There’s a storm coming, only fools cannot see the increase in Peacekeeper patrols. The rumor mill is churning out stories at an alarming rate; almost as bad as the rumors about what started the riots years ago.” Sebastian exhaled through his nose put the knife away before folding his arms across his chest.

“Things could blow over, or they could blow up. If it’s the latter, things will get bad for all of us. The PK’s don’t care about the differences between the gangs. They don’t care about our loyalties or our banners because to them we’re all just bastards and broken things. Take this message to whoever you report to and see that it gets to your boss. I’m offering an alliance. If he is interested, we can meet in person; I’ll find a way.” Surprising, he knew. But he was full of those. History had taught him that weathering these storms was much easier when there were allies to call upon. “Another gang starts messing with the Seraphims? We’ll help you deal with them. All I ask in return is that the Seraphims do the same for The Pride.”

He tilted his head in thought for a moment.

“But if you piss off the Delacroix’s, you’re on your own. Those bitches are crazy, and I won’t fuck with them.” That was it. He was toying with the idea of offering similar terms to several of the other smaller gangs. Maybe even picking a side in the Sparrows/Crimsons conflict. It would be impossible to ally with everyone, but perhaps he could get a few truces going. The name of the game right now was survival, and the next move was contingent on what the Capitol did before the end of the month. “If those terms are found unacceptable, all I ask is that your people stay out of my territory, and I will keep my people out of yours.” Sebastian took a step back and glanced at the door, keeping her in his peripheral vision.

“Think you can remember all that?”

He'd spent too much time here already, and there was work to be done.

16 Jul 12, 23:43
GB: I bet you just sit at your computer with a tea cup and a monocle

cass
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aftermath; Cass May 6, 2020 2:14:18 GMT -5

Post by cass on May 6, 2020 2:14:18 GMT -5

we're colourblind from the black and white

but we've never burned so bright.

He was angry. It appeared that I had miscalculated when it came to the two options. Before I knew it the wall was pressed against my back, feet moving of their own accord. There was venom in his voice as he leaned close, I could feel his breath, smell it and I recoiled, wishing that I had kept that rock clutched in my hand. No, that was a stupid idea, that would have just ended with me bleeding out all over the floor right now. Then there would be no one but Xander left to clean up.

I shivered. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until now, Xander would be the one that would deal with the mess -I would be part of the mess. I wanted to throw up, the idea of that psychopath pouring chemicals all over my corpse and dissolving it until there was nothing left was unappealing. It was disgusting. You disappeared, not a trace left of who you were. It was the plan for the poor souls lying on the warehouse floor. Within a few days it would be like they never existed. There would be no body to find, no evidence to say what had killed them, who had killed them. Just nothing.

Sebastian straightened up, tucking the knife away and folding his arms angrily across his chest. He was throwing a lot of information at me, and I’d been so lost in thought that I’d already forgotten the first half. There was no way I was going to ask him to repeat what he had said, that knife of his would take less than three seconds to slice across my carotid artery. From there, two minutes at the most to bleed out. I knew what happened, I had cleaned up wounds like that, seen the amount of blood and the mess they made. At least Xander would have a lot to clean up.

It seemed that Sebastian was interested in aligning himself with the Seraphim gang, the riots and curfew had led to a lot of stifled energy. It was crackling, threatening to blow as it built, I had seen it, the scene they were at was evidence of that fact. I wasn’t sure how Tate was going to handle the situation, but he had left unimpressed with the results of the scuffle from today. There was doubt pooling in my stomach as Sebastian finished speaking. Would these be the kind of things Tate would agree to? I dared a brief glance around the room, taking my eyes off Sebastian to stare at the bodies. There would be a lot more bodies if they joined up with Sebastian. But, in the end I would do what he told me to do, clean where he pointed and move on to the next mess as he directed.

“Think you can remember all that?”

I nodded, turning to see his gaze now fixated on the door. “I can let Tate-”

Shit.

I hesitated for a moment, knowing full well I’d just branded myself a liar right in front of a terrifying animal that I knew would not hesitate to kill me. “I can send that message,” I took a step sideways, moving to edge my way around him. “I need to get back to my job.”

charade
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Thinking

aftermath; Cass May 6, 2020 2:55:04 GMT -5

Post by charade on May 6, 2020 2:55:04 GMT -5

Sebastian Rothul

Sebastian smiled like that cat that swallowed the canary as she stumbled over her words. When she stepped to the side and started to edge around him, he took a step back in the direction of the door and let her pass. “Tate?” he crooned mockingly. “First name basis with the boss, but can’t get ahold of him?” He tsked before smirking and started walking towards the door. Yeah, she was afraid. That was enough for him. No point in stopping her from doing her job, and he’d also sent the message that he was not to be trifled with.

“Cliff notes,” he stated. “I’m offering an alliance or at the very least a mutual agreement to ignore each other. That’s all you have to remember.” It was a simple message, and it covered all the bases. He wanted to shake his head in exhaustion; he was tired of all this, but the underworld of district nine was a game of chess during which all the pieces kept moving. You ever stopped moving and you got taken off the board. Most people in the business came to a bad end at a young age. Sebastian credited Zanita with keeping his focus skyward when he was younger, or he would have been one of them.

It had been almost a decade since she’d died though. And he could feel himself slipping. Every day he slipped closer to the edge. He was a pauper king without a queen and there was no one that could ever replace her. One day, he knew he’d snap. There’d come a time when he’d lose what control he had left and on that day, he would leave the world the same way he had entered it; screaming and covered in someone else’s blood. He just hoped he’d leave his mark before he did so.

“You’ve got guts, kid. Staying professional, and not bolting or pissing your pants? I respect that.” He saluted her by tapping a closed fist on his chest twice, and then he paused in the doorway, looking back at her and letting a Cheshire grin slide over his face. “Word of advice? Start carrying a weapon. I’d hate to see someone spill those guts before you have a chance to make something of yourself.”

Sebastian winked and then closed the door behind him. He had a feeling that district nine’s troubles were just beginning. The peacekeepers were evident enough. But he was never one to back down from a fight. He began the long walk back to headquarters and pulled out his knife, turning it over in his hand and inspecting the handle. Whether the district continued to simmer quietly or boiled over into violence, he’d be prepared.

END OF THREAD