clean-up on aisle victor [lionel & ivan]

[d1b portia maybach 🏆 frankel]

IVAN KORSCH

It has completely gone, the blue bruise around his eyes. Not naturally though. Only a few days have passed by since Ivan’s kerfuffle with the pundits. If not for his casino owner friend, he would’ve walked away with more than just a bruised eye – or not even walked away at all. It took a lot of hours from the stylists and cosmetic surgeons to fix his face, all those hours so it wouldn’t look obvious that something was being hidden.

Though Ivan’s absence at the finale sparked talk of there being something to hide. From the days of the finale up to the victor’s presentation, Ivan has been on an intense PR clean-up campaign.

”Just an unfortunate case of the runs after eating at Stavro’s!”

”It was food poisoning! I ate shellfish at Stavro’s Seafood – the place is being investigated now, so hopefully there will be no more victims…” Ivan dropped one of the men who beat him up into it. As soon as he name dropped the business to the cameras, the restaurant was immediately temporarily closed down. ”They can’t keep operating if they make an exceptionally healthy gamemaker like me so ill that I had to miss MY finale!” Ivan has lost count of how many interviews he has done over the short few days but it is finally time for the victor’s presentation. Time for it to be over.

It is hard for Ivan to hide his lack of support for the newly crowned victor. He doesn’t understand the science behind how a kid like Lionel Estrada beat a guy like Lucky. There’s too much luck in life (something that Ivan survives purely on) but some people don’t deserve it, like Lionel.

Such a tedious ceremony in the theatre where the tribute interview took place a few weeks ago. Over the years, Ceasar Flickerman’s voice has become so cringy. He wonders when that man is finally going to retire, there must a secret life serum that he is hiding. That Ivan wants to get his hands on. It is impossible to keep his eyes off his wristwatch. Once this part is over, there is an after party. An event he is very much looking forwards to.

Ivan is renowned for being fashionably late but with the recent PR clean-up, he ensures he is one of the first at the 96th Victor’s Presentation after party. He is near the entrance while the guests arrive, making sure every single of them see’s his face. Enough for them to forget that he wasn’t at the most important day of the games.

Then there is the special guest of the night, one he has not cared to speak to until now. Ivan has a plan; everyone wants to introduce the special guest and he is sure Hades or even Maryn are planning to do just that. Well, too bad. He is about to do it now.

Just as Lionel Estrada walks into the decorated nightclub that his hosting the event, Ivan grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him to the mini stage where the night’s music entertainment is playing. En route he swipes two glasses of champagne from a waiter’s trays, forcing one into Lionel’s hand.

”It is honour tonight to welcome our special guest,” Ivan speaks into a microphone after pushing Lionel to stand to the left of him. ”raise your glasses for our newest victor, Lionel Estrada!” It is an half-assed toast and Ivan takes it as the opportunity to knock back the glass.

Now there’s the matter of the conversations in the arena. Lionel Estrada has been causing headaches for Ivan before he even left the arena, he hoped some topsoil over the kid would’ve help it quieten down, but the brat is stood here breathing in front of him. As soon as everyone lowers their glasses and turns their back on the pair, Ivan dives into the kid’s ear. ”You survived but don’t think I won’t be controlling the rest of your life, s-kid.” Ivan nearly says son, it almost sounds like a lecture from his father. Ivan speaks softly in Lionel’s ear, just so others around them are not suspicious of his stern words. ”Anymore talk of fucking porn magazines and I’ll make sure you wish you died in that arena…”

ELEGANT

[k!ah]

L I O N E L  E S T R A D A

The presentation was over quickly, the screaming crowd following me back stage as I was ushered towards the exit. "You have an after party to attend, Mr. Estrada," Salazar murmurs in my ear as he pushes through the crowd, a hand between my shoulder blades as he directed me. "We must hurry," he says with a tight smile as, who I assumed to be a fan, pushed through the crowd and threw themselves in my direction, squealing my name and reaching for me with hungry hands. I throw them a quick glance, and fight the urge to cringe wildly at them as I take in the sickly bright yellow of their dress and make up that was no doubt meant to honour me.

Dodging their attack, I keep close to Salazar side- even though I wanted to rip out his vocal cords for calling me 'Mr. Estrada'. I had asked him several times now, each time less and less politely, to knock it the fuck off before I cut out his tongue and fed it to Mouse. But he seemed to be either daft, or simply a fucking idiot, or deaf, because that name still dripped from his lips like poison. Shoving me into a car Salazar slips into the seat across from me and I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at him as the car takes off into the streets. "Call me Mr. Estrada again, Salazar, and I'll have you sent to district twelve and have you mining those fucking coal mines until you find me a diamond the size of your, obviously, small brain."

Salazar fights back a sigh, flicking open his phone as the driver announces we should arrive in less than two minutes. "Mr. E- Lionel," he amends and I give him a slow clap, "this party will be your first offical social outing as the newly crown victor, there are expected actions and rules we my cover before-"

"Ughhhhh! Snore. You are such a bore," I groan at him, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. "I dont give a fuck about your rules- or your expectations, Salazar. I will not be your puppet, so fuck you and your rules." Salazar's face flushes red, but not with embarrassment or shame, no, that was anger and rage in his glare as he opened his mouth, ready to argue. "I swear to Ripred, if you don't shut the hell up I will make sure I throughly embarrass you before this night is over. I swear, I'll do it, and I'll have a fucking good time doing it too."

Salazar's mouth snaps shut, his glare heating as he forced himself to take a few deep, calming, breaths. "I don't want to tell you how to behave," he ground out, his lips pulling back into a tight, forced smile. "So I won't. Just," he pauses, takes a deep breath and sighs. His fingers press into the corners of his eyes and he is silent for a long moment before his eyes meet my own once again. "Just- just try to behave, Lionel. For both of our sakes."

I smirk at him, unfolding my arms as the car stops and the door is flung open. "Yeah, right, as if that is going to happen," I say over my shoulder as I am ushered into the building.

As soon as I enter the club a hand wraps around my shoulder and I am directed towards a mini stage. Instantly I move to shrug off the touch as I look over to the person it belonged to. Instantly I any thoughts of shrugging it off is forgotten as I come face to face with the man, the myth, the legend himself. Ivan Korsch. My lips pull back into a shit eating grin, I had waited weeks for this moment. To finally see what all the fuss was about. To see why Lucky was so hooked on this guy. And probably to put a real face to all the jibes I had made at him during the games. Ivan barely gives me half a glance before he is shoving a glass of champagne in my hand and shoving me towards the stage.

Yeah. I didn't like that.

”It is honour tonight to welcome our special guest,” Ivan steps up to the microphone, and my eyes narrow on him as he raises his glass. ”Raise your glasses for our newest victor, Lionel Estrada!” He shouts into the crowd, and instantly cheers break out and the party resumes. Finally Ivan looks at me, leaning in close so that he could speak into my ear. ”You survived but don’t think I won’t be controlling the rest of your life, s-kid.” He says, his voice as cold as iron, and there was a familiarity about the way they were intended to pound into my skin. A threat. A warning. And maybe had it been just a few weeks earlier I would have felt myself folding to his demands, but I was currently riding a high. And I was a fucking victor. No, I was his fucking victor. Ivan Korsch couldn't fucking touch me. ”Anymore talk of fucking porn magazines and I’ll make sure you wish you died in that arena…”

He pulls back, and perhaps me might of expected my face to be filled with fear, and apprehension at his words, but instead I plaster that shit eating grin onto my lips and clink my glass against his empty one before I knock it back and toss him a wink. "I think I heard that you are now the star of some spicy porno's. Rumour has it you weren't happy with your few minutes of fame," I smile at him before feigning a thoughtful look, "they are saying that the reason you missed your own finale was one of your co-stars came down with gonorrhea and you had caught it." I cringe at him, looking him up and down as I place my empty glass of champagne on a tray as a server passes by. I say the last bit loud enough for the staff member to be able to have heard.

Leaving into him similar to the way he had to me, I lower my voice. "Make your threats, do your worst. I dare you." After all, what did I really have to lose when I had never planned to make it out at all. I had no plans, my calendar was wide open. Game on.

ELEGANT