deal with the devil /av+hades

[gamemaker kelsier]

A V R I E L

There's a song stuck in his head, tugging a little too hard on his focus. He's waiting for a train, suitcase parked at his side on the platform while half-remembered words filter through his head.

And his fingers tap against his thigh in rhythm, pattering like rain against his jeans.

For a moment, there's nothing in his head. Just the half song, some vapid pop song that'd been playing on the radio this morning at the coffee shop he'd been sitting at, just wasting time until it wasn't too early to go to the platform anymore.

Avriel's been holding this thing inside of him for a few days now, this feeling of unease that's been trying to make a home between his spine and his heart. He doesn't want to let it settle there, until he finally gets on the train home it'll keep trying.

He's the only one on the platform, it's too early for anyone else who's sane.

But Eden was kind of pissed at him when he left Nine and though he told himself he wouldn't let it bother him, lately his friend's long silences on the phone have felt pointed. Which is strange. Silence has too many facets, like a helix cube, it feels like Avriel's constantly trying to figure out how all the pieces fit together.

Whatever, he just wants to get home.

A hand falls on his shoulder and Avriel is being turned. The feeling is strange, he's not really one for being touched by a stranger, let alone without his permission. He opens his mouth, Scout wiggling in the kangaroo pocket of his fleece at the sudden movement, he's twisting and then staring into his own reflection.

"You can't be here," says the Peacekeeper.

"I'm-"

The Peacekeeper steamrolls him. "Only those with dependants are allowed to travel between districts until further notice. Your sister is gone, your brother is in boarding school. You live alone, Correct?"

"I- What? Since when-" Avriel starts, frustrated, he hates being caught off guard like this, there's never enough time to think.

Besides, Eden's at home. He doesn't live alone anymore, and neither of them ever discussed how long he'd be staying, he just arrived in the dead of night and has never left. He's supposed to be in One still, he's been registered missing. Even if Eden's being there wasn't illegal, he's an adult and he doesn't need Avriel.

"I have chickens," he says finally because that's literally all he can think of. "And a cat." Except that's a lie, unless Eden counts.

"Animals are classified as non-vital," the Peacekeeper drones, then points at the gates leading back into the city centre. "Take it up with the council if you've got a problem with it."

Avriel blinks, then rests a hand on his pocket to keep Scout from squirming around. He's met a council member once or twice. They were as eager as anyone to shake his hand after they won, get a picture for their next campaign, whatever, but he's never actually sat down and spoken to one. He's never wanted to.

But then he's standing outside the gate, his suitcase in his hand and absolutely no plan on how to get home. Sometimes 'until further notice' means never. He bites his lip, the unease from earlier slowly climbing to rest in his throat and its hard to breathe around it. But his mind is blanking, and that old familiar shake is back in his hands, numbing them.

Maybe he's going to throw up.

But then Scout is one his shoulder, tapping its nub of a hand against his cheek to get his attention.

"I'm fine," Avriel says automatically, but the Kodama knows it's a lie and doesn't seem to care anyway, it's jumping up and down on Avriel's shoulder and pointing across the square to where the council works out of.

"I don't fucking want to go there," he answers shortly, "They're going to play with me, treat me like a dumbass." Most people tended to look at Avriel, listen to him speak once and then decide he was slow. Capitalites were even worse for that, especially the ones that held any power and being on the council is all power is these days.

Scout continues to poke at him, insisting. It's little inner light flickers red for a brief moment and if a Kodama's expression could change, it'd be looking very stern right now.

Avriel sighs and squats down beside his suitcase for a moment, head in his hands. Scout scrambles up onto his back as he moves, keeping purchase. His head is swimming, that feeling of wanting to throw up isn't gone still. Truthfully, he thought he could be better this year but then Patricia died and he's felt barely anything since. He can't sleep, that's not new but it was getting better for some reason with Eden around.

Feels like he's back at square one, the nightmares have been endless, heavy. He wants to go home.

"Fine," he mutters, "Fucking fine, I'll go."

Scout lets out a low note of triumph that sounds like heavy rain on a calm surface.

"Stop being so damn smug."

⟣ ⟢

There's no one there, of course.

The receptionist gives him an address though, and within five minutes there's a car waiting for him outside. His usual liason is tied up so they hand him off to another. He's heard the name in passing before but since it wasn't relevant to him, Avriel didn't worry much. Just another gamemaker anyway. As far as Avriel's concerned, if you've met one then you've met them all, just a bunch of child killers who got a rank for it instead of jail time.

Pot calling the kettle black, he strides into the building that Hades Lochlan, the district one liason works out of. He's not sure why they've sent him here, but there doesn't seem to be much other choice.

On the car ride over, there was one of Flynn's little morning updates playing on a tiny screen set into the back of the driver's seat. Statistics of deaths by district flash across the screen and there was district nine with one of the highest kill counts, just like always.

The Capitol was always loathe to send help to one of their most problematic district. Avriel twisted his hands up in his lap, clenched his jaw and tried to just breathe.

It didn't help, his heart still pounds in his chest as he crosses the floor to the reception desk.

A secretary glances up briefly, then hits a button out of Avriel's sight.

"Hades, your eight am is here," they drone into a receiver, staring daggers at Avriel, possibly out of hatred for the early morning start.

Avriel just stares back at them as if they have three heads. He's trying to remember that he's not just some kid from the bad side of Nine anymore, he's a Victor, a killer, dangerous too. But he doesn't like to weild that. Scout rattles menacingly from his shoulder, little chest puffing up, classic Kodama intimidation move.

They wait in silence for a long moment, then Av just sighs and breezes past reception, making a bee line for a large set of doors made of steel at the back of the entrance hall. "Buzz me in," he commands

"Um, actually, you have to wait until he's ready for you," the receptionist says, tone icy.

"No, I don't," Avriel answers, tone calm. If there's one thing he's learned after almost four years of this, it's that as long as he acts the part, he can do whatever he damn well pleases.

And this type of lie only gets easier the more he says it.

"Buzz me in," he says softly, "Now."

And he slips through the gate into hell.

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

The sun will not break the horizon for several more hours when Hades Lochlan makes it into his office. While his ascension to power is long fought for and well-earned, his compulsion is to never stop. This was only the top before because no one had bothered to climb higher, and that's what Hades wants to do: he wants to climb, and climb, and climb. His ambition frightens him at times, as does his abrupt tendency to cut out any perceived malignancy from his life just as soon as he discovers it. A pesky reporter asking for more than she is worth when he offers her the chance to be his junior in a games, so he quietly blacklists her from every list he gets added to in the years to come. A fellow council member seems to hold too much sympathy for District Five's residents, so Hades sees to it that they are reported, reviewed, and removed from the council. Perfection- that's what he wants. That's the only thing which will satisfy him, he's afraid. So he is here and it is not even 5 am yet and the city is only just beginning to yawn itself awake far below him. Cinder coos a notification so Hades glances down at his watch: INCOMING CALL: ASTRID ZANE "Answer," he commands absently. There's a brief pause while Cinder connects the line, the glowing red core within it glowing like a pulse. "I know, I know-" he apologizes just as soon as he can hear the atmosphere on the other end from a small device in his ear- "I just didn't want to wake you so early. You looked like you were dreaming." He has a bad habit of sneaking, even away from his own home. Not consciously, and not for any reason other than his own nature befalling him. But it does sometimes mean Astrid wakes up in an otherwise empty bed and wonders where he is. "But if I get through everything I have to do today, I might actually be home earlier than usual." A hope so hopeless it's basically an outward lie, but not an intentional one. They both know by now that when concerning Astrid, his mistakes are never intentional, though common as they may be. She sighs tiredly and mentions stopping by with breakfast in a couple hours. He pushes the half-eaten croissant sitting on his desk over the edge and into the trash, clears his throat: "See you then." He kills the time until then finishing up paperwork, signing off on the last of his muttation contributions to the 92nd and reviewing the equations of his latest creations. Astrid shows up at 7:45 with a croissant nearly identical to the one he'd already been eating. He meets her downstairs and they eat by the giant water fountain in the park across the road. She smells like citrus and she eases a tension in his shoulders simply by being near. He kisses her goodbye and makes his way back inside. Cinder is waiting for him in the lobby, instantly floating up and circling around Hades the moment he walks into the door. He's in the elevator when Cinder sends him another notification, this time from Freesia the receptionist. "Hades, your eight am is here." First of the day. The elevator doors ding cheerfully, and Hades steps out to see his assistant trying- and failing- to keep a tall and lean man from prying his way into his office door. He raises an eyebrow. "Mr. Baptiste," he calls, closing the distance of the long and narrow hallway between them. His shoes- even as light footed as he is- make a hollow clicking sound against the glossy tiled floor. Avriel. 88th Victor. Below average showing, statistically speaking, but those stop mattering when the games is over. Hades remembers that he designed some interesting mutts that year and seems to even recall operating one of the manticuts that Avriel and his friends fought in one of the early days of the games. He remembers the exact moment where he could've stabbed him in the eye and opted for a cut on the arm instead. Hades smiles. At least Avriel has gotten someone home already in the few short years since his win. For what he may have lacked as a victor though, he's clearly made up for by being an impressive mentor. Especially since it was an Adroxis boy who he managed to help save. Hades personally saw to it that Nowles didn't make it to the end of the 90th Games- he wonders what punishments the gamemakers from the 91st are due for. That's what happens when you hire a television executive to run a death contest though, Hades supposes. Life lessons he was surprised it took multiple "occasions" for him to learn. He waits for the younger man to move aside before he gestures to Cinder. It chirps and looms in the same spot in the air for a moment, and then a clicking sound can be heard from within the locking mechanism. The door swings open freely. "Come in, please. Have a seat." Hades does the same, sitting behind his large, ornate desk. He folds his hands together. He doesn't know what, or who exactly he'd been expecting, but this wasn't the answer. If Hades has expected any victor to come waltzing into his office like this, it's Talon. Or maybe someone from One, as that's his area of authority as far as the council is concerned. Avriel is from Nine and has no idea of Hades' level of involvement in his games. So then, what? "Coffee? Tea?" Cinder doesn't wait for an answer, instantly booping itself up off his desk and to the bar against the far wall. An instant later, it was floating over with a cup of steaming drip, as well as some sugar cubes and cream. "Sorry about him- he's quite eager to please." Hades almost feels cruel for still only calling Cinder a seelie when he's modded the thing so many times since its creation that it is practically a super computer combined with a personal assistant at this point. But even still, Cinder is only eager to please because it's been designed as such. Hades glances down at the kodama on Avriel's shoulder and suppresses a smirk. "I'll admit, I'm perplexed by you being here. If this is about Ms. Price or Mr. Uchis, I would advise speaking with one of the head gamemakers- Dr. Carter's office is not too far from here, in fact. But I can save you the trip by assuring you now that they both died fairly." In truth, there was likely a lot of decision-making which would've factored into both of their deaths. But Avriel is only a lowly victor- the winner of a game people like Hades get to design. That's privileged information he will never be certainly privy to. At least as far as Hades is concerned.

[gamemaker kelsier]

A V R I E L

It's in the way that Hades says his name that cements Avriel's stubborn dislike of the man.

It doesn't matter who Hades is really, there's a council position tacked to his name and he's fairly certain he's seen him on tv a couple of times as a gamemaker, whatever. Av is from district Nine and his kind are just built different, raised from birth to stare authority in the face and spit in it. He would have only been indifferent if those titles weren't tacked on to his name.

Hades says his name with just enough respect that it makes him have to bite his cheek to hold back a rare sneer. He usually forgets to provide much expression for others to read, working his mouth in that way is always a whole other thought process.

"Avriel," he corrects.

He stares at Hades, it's always odd to meet a Capitol staple in person, even now, four years after he became one himself. Like everyone else though he spent years catching brief glimpses of the Capitol's glamour on television and Hades is a face and name that connects for him.

Scout is completely still on his shoulder, watching intently as the man makes his approach. All of its senses seem to be on alert and Avriel doesn't know if it's because the kodama can pick up on his discomfort or if the gamemaker's presence has set it off.

Or could be the seelie floating near Hades' shoulder.

He's never seen one that colour though they had a boom of popularity after the games before his when one was assigned to every tribute. Hades' is tinged red but near black at the centre. It kind of looks like a blood clot to Avriel and his brow furrows. He tucks his hands instinctually into his pockets before they can start to shake and give him away.

The door is opened for him and so he follows Hades into his office, gaze sliding over the various things around the room. There isn't much, but the Capitol is a strange place to Avriel because of that. People here thrive on near bare living spaces while back home, folks hold on to absolutely everything, just fixing the things they own as they break through the years.

"Coff-" he starts but the seelie is already bouncing along through the air, having decided for him. Scout tenses on his shoulder and rests a nubby little hand on Avriel's cheek almost defensively. It occurs to him that he's never really seen Scout react to another mutt before except for Stella's little bee, which he's pretty sure the kodama tried to eat.

He freezes for a moment. Scout tries to eat almost everything at least once.

"Don't," he breathes.

Then the seelie is carrying a cup of coffee over to him and Avriel raises his hands out as far as he can from his body in a subtle effort to keep the two mutts as far apart as he can. It's strange to watch the creature carry anything, it's little body almost transformed to keep the cup steady.

"Thanks," he mutters and nods at the seelie, fingers extending around the cup in an effort to warm them up. "Just black is fine," Avriel continues as the seelie tries to offer him cream.

Of course Hades doesn't know what he's here for, but neither does Avriel really. "It's not about them," he answers one hand drumming against his thigh again. Strange thing to say, when everything for him is always about he people he's lost. Their deaths are still sitting there in the inbox tray in his head, unprocessed but Patricia is still taking up his whole system, overwhelming him, he can't handle more than that right now.

"It's about going home," he tells Hades, making eye contact briefly before his eyes go back to the space just beside his head, "I was about to get on a train and they wouldn't let me, said I couldn't because I've got no dependants so I told them that I have chickens and then they told me I'd have to talk to one of you and that guy who runs my district wasn't available, so they sent me here."

He places the coffee cup down on the desktop between them. Scout uses the opportunity to run down his arm, placing itself between Hades and Avriel and expanding slowly in height until it's gone from a quarter foot tall to one a half.

Avriel blinks, brow furrowing slightly, curiosity at Scout's antics almost distracting him. He's rarely seen the mutt this agitated, not even in the arena.

He glances up at Hades again, looking him over more intently.

After a moment he nods towards Scout and says, "I don't think he likes you."

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

Avriel Baptiste seemed much more intriguing with his brow furrowed like that. Hades watched closely from behind the comfort of his desk as the victor struggled to maintain eye contact. Slowly, Hades found his own view to be more and more obscured by the slowly expanding mutt on his desk. By the time it was finished, it'd grown more than double its original size. Cinder, unbothered, pushed a coaster under Avriel's drink and cooed as if expecting a thank you from his guest while Hades blinked at the kodama, the index finger that'd previously been anchoring his head up beginning to tap with curiosity. "I don't think he likes you," Avriel chimed, his head poking back into view from one side. "I should think not." 88th Hunger Games, the... second night, wasn't it? Yes, because Avriel found it the next day after his fight. Hades recalled the thing watching Avriel sleep all night, still confused, still in the early stages of its unique bonding method. His job responsibilities always required him to be more hands-on with the creation of the mutts in games when he wasn't a gamemaker. Each breed had its own terms and conditions. The kodama, though, were special in their creation. Trade secret knowledge that he wouldn't possibly be able to launch into without someone signing a waiver, but the short of it was that kodama required special attention in order to end up as they were presented in the arenas, and it was maybe a bit traumatic for the kodama. "They're known to be excellent grudge-holders." Though ultimately, harmless ones. The shock people would have to learn that it wasn't always the case. Hades wondered if Avriel could still recall what his kodama had been doing when he first saw it. Sitting at a picnic table all alone, waiting for..? Perhaps a friend who never came back. A friend who forgot. "Have you discovered its hidden quirk yet? All my creations have them." It'd started as an incidental color variation on one of his kecleon several years ago, but when he'd discovered that others enjoyed finding them just as much as he enjoyed hiding them, it had quickly gotten out of hand. Now, every mutt he had a personal hand in creating had something slightly different: a texture, a sound capability. He loved making hybrid floraspor capable of emitting multiple spores, and blood wardens with teeth made of steel rather than bone. The fans dubbed them shiny versions, and many sought at great length to discover which mutts were special and what exactly it was that made them different. Some weren't as obvious, like in this instance. Ah, bother. He could think about mutts all day, and he forced himself out of the rabbit hole just as soon as he could feel himself falling into it. He cleared his throat. "Chickens are classified as non-vital, non-essential luxury items in all districts lower than 5, other than District 10. Such items are considered personal responsibility- didn't you have someone feeding them already?" He wondered how serious the inquiry could really be. A Capitol protocol being breached for the sake of saving someone's meal plan, which could ultimately be replaced by a couple more eggs and a warm lamp? "Besides, District Nine is has one of the highest contraction rates in Panem right now. You shouldn't risk infection, anyway."