🪓 Krueger Gamble . 10 [FIN}

[pogue]

remember that dumb ass idiot Bowie Gamble? Me neither   he dead. fuck yeah. stabbed right through that idiot brain of his. Ten, axes! Ten axes all thrown as part of his act. Hell yeah. 

[pogue]

K  R  U  E  G  E  R

"Come one!, "Come all."

He bites at the end of the sentence and tastes bitterness on the end of his tongue, staring out into the audience and counting the faces new and old. There are four mini-axes laced into his grasp, flicked with gasoline and set ablaze and the eyes of the audience written into the flames. 

It's been a double edged sword stabbed through their own heart since Bowie got his shit rocked in the 90th, called out because his own merit and then stabbed through the skull because his own kindness. Audience numbers upticked, rich Capitolites with money and lives to burn clamoring to get a bite of the talents of those deemed so clearly less fortunate. The crowds grew but so did the realization of nothingness in the back of their own minds, blackening the hearts of a troupe that was once a family. They missed him from the shadows because they had to, Bowie, a boy too stupid for his own good and too ignorant to do what had to be done to get home. 

He wouldn't make that mistake. He knows what happens when you get the Capitol's attention.

He pretends like the nearest raunchy color wearing Capitolites are his opponents as he launches the flaming axes into the brightly colored targets around him, flipping and twirling in between the OOO's and AAA's of the audience, only stopping when he knows each weapon has been embedded into the skull of every target.

He takes a bow, feels the axe of his own burn out bury deeper into his back.

When he stands he is left drowning in the eyes of an unwanted audience,
knowing what is destined to happen to a world, a troupe, a boy like him. 

[pogue]

axe ! axe !! axe ! axe!

[ryan]

love love love

xx accepted