Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

Task 1 - Interview with Vaelyn (BM)

Beckett stared at the stage from where he stood at the front of the line. Sweat spilled from his pores and soaked his itchy suit, and every now and then he failed to resist the urge to scratch. He was next in line and, as much as he tried to pay attention, he couldn't catch a full sentence of his district partner's interview. She was confident with her words, and had a posture a high-standing Peacekeeper would die for. Sponsors would rain down on her by the bucketful, no doubt about it. But Beckett? He knew himself better than anyone. He was nothing like the other tributes he'd seen thus far. Someone had already given him the nickname "Softie."

"Let's hear it for Anastasia of District Four!" the host boomed.

Anastasia bowed before strutting off stage, cheers ricocheting down the hall the remaining tributes waited in. As she passed him, she patted his shoulder and uttered a brief, "Good luck."

"And now," the host, Vaelyn Xiavia, said, "Please give a warm welcome for our District Four male tribute, Beckett Malen!"

What if I say the wrong thing? What if I'm not good enough? What if they don't like my answers? What if I trip, or puke, or offend someone? What if--

Someone elbowed him in the back from behind, and when Beckett refused to turn around, the person snickered. It was probably someone from Five. Taking a deep breath, he took his first step onto the stage. As soon as he was visible, his face appeared on either side of the stage on massive screens. Lights shot over to him in a blinding fashion. At one point he stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face, but caught his balance just before he tipped too far. As if his limp wasn't a downside as it was. As soon as he found the chair he ceased his clumsy walk and sat.

Vaelyn reached out for a handshake, and Beckett returned the favor with a nervous smile. She waited a few seconds after releasing his hand before wiping her hand on her pant leg. I've already messed up, Beckett thought, panic rising. Please just start the questions so we can get this over with.

Thankfully, she did. "So, Beckett, how are you liking the Capitol so far?"

What to say, what to say...erm... "Well, uh, it's different. Definitely enjoying the lack of fish smell."

This comment earned him a few hearty chuckles from the crowd, and he mentally sighed with relief. He wasn't on their bad side. But the night was still young.

"I'm sure you are. Speaking of fish, what was it like for you when you were reaped into the Games?" Vaelyn had a soft smile playing on her lips, hands clasped over her knee. She was making it a lot easier on Beckett than the other tributes. The air around her radiated kindness and warmth. Beckett found himself relaxing in his chair.

"Well, it sure was a surprise. But it's a surprise for all of us, isn't it? It's not every day you get chosen for a fight to the death on national television, is it? I sure didn't think I'd end up here, wearing this itchy son-of-a-gun..." Beckett trailed off to scratch his shoulder.

More of the audience laughed this time, pleased with his response. He was obviously getting along better than a few of the other tributes, who had ended up offending the citizens greatly.

"What about your family? Have you left anyone behind that will miss you?"

Beckett thought about this one. There really wasn't anyone waiting for him. But he knew he was waiting for someone. "If you mean people missing me, no. But there's one person I'd like to see one more time. Sadly, him and I aren't on very good terms at the moment. Not for several years, that is."

Vaelyn gave him a sympathetic look, and the crowd followed suite. Beckett raised an eyebrow. It wasn't that tragic. His former best friend simply wanted nothing to do with him. The Capitol didn't really care. "That's unfortunate," the host said. "But who knows? Maybe if you win you'll be able to see him again."

"Oh, I don't think I'll win," Beckett said without thinking. A few confused mumbles rose from within the audience. He gulped. Did I say the wrong thing? Did I finally mess up? Oh no, oh no, I've really done it now...

"What do you mean by that?" Vaelyn's gaze was similar to the crowd's.

Beckett glanced at the line of waiting tributes before answering. "You have to kill to make it back home in these Games, right?"

"Correct. But I don't see why--"

"Exactly. You see, I won't play by those rules. If you expect me to lay a finger on any tribute when the game starts, you're sadly mistaken." Beckett held a new sense of confidence, and crossed his arms over his chest. He already messed up, so what was the point in holding back now?

"But how will you defend yourself? Surely you don't plan on letting others kill you?"

"You're right. I'll defend myself but you won't see me with a knife or a bow in my hands." Beckett paused, pondering whether he should let his strategy be known. "I'm smarter than I am strong. Expect to see me with ropes."

Vaelyn looked relieved. "Whew! I thought we had a tribute that wasn't going to put up a fight. But now I see I was wrong." She turned to the crowd. "I've always had a thing for the water, he's a sure contender in these games. A mix of both brawn and brains."

This comment earned a round of applause. It was more for the host than for him, but he didn't mind. He was pretty sure he'd played his cards in such a way that he wouldn't be seen as a target. The weak could kill themselves off in the minds of the strong. Sure, Beckett was "supposed" to be a Career, but with this interview, it was obvious that he was not.

Vaelyn leaned over to check the timer before asking another question. "Even though you say you won't win the games, do you think it's a possibility?"

"I honestly couldn't care less if I could or not. It all comes down to who kills who, and if anyone comes after me."

The crowd looked taken aback, gasps making their way to his ears. Vaelyn furrowed her brows. "So what you're saying is, is that you don't care if you live or die?"

"Nope. I couldn't give a single darn if I do. There are some people out there that really deserve to live beyond this silly competition, and I know for a fact I'm not one of them. No one is waiting for me. I have no clear aspirations, no set goals. As long as the person will do something for the better in the end, I'd gladly die at someone's hand."

As soon as he finished his last word, the buzzer went off. Beckett rose from his place and limped away from the glare of the lights and the surprise of the audience, not giving Vaelyn a chance to wish him good luck or whatever mandatory outro she was supposed to give.

Off the stage he went, marching past the line of confused tributes. One of them reached out and grabbed his arm. "Hey, Softie."

Beckett turned to the boy. He'd met him during the Parade and, despite his hatred of the nickname, they had agreed to truce. He couldn't really say no to the guy: it just wasn't in his nature to deny people things. "What do you want?" It was difficult to keep the fresh annoyance out of his voice.

"Just wanna say good job out there. You really fooled 'em. Not going to kill anyone my ass!" Cameron chuckled, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

Beckett was indifferent. He stared with a face devoid of emotion. "I'm really not going to kill anyone." His tone was too serious to be taken for a joke.

Cameron raised an eyebrow and Beckett shoved past him. There was a place at the back of the line where chairs were set up for those that had already been interviewed. Finding his chair, he sat, and began fiddling with the woven bracelet he'd brought as a token. I won't stoop so low as to put my life above anyone else's. I won't kill for the sake of my own life. It's not right. How or where we all grew up doesn't matter. No one's importance triumphs over another. I just wish that the people here would realize that. Maybe someday. But for now, killing reigns, and I'm about to go right in the thick of it.

~~~

SCORE: 9.5/12

RANKING: 4th

Sponsored by Tender Exilo after this task.  (Can't deny the puppy dog eyes).