Built an Army Full of Tender Bodies // [Glamour/Mackenzie]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

Always told you not to love me
Now look what you made me do
I got poison in my pocket,
told you I was bad news

It was a good thing he'd slept like a baby before the Bloodbath, because he was guaranteed not to sleep a wink again until the Finale. Maybe not even then, if things kept going poorly. Once the tributes had scattered into separate camps for the evening, Glamour had taken his leave of the command center. He'd ordered dinner to his office and slowly sipped away a bottle of champagne while reviewing the histories of Denali Lyons and Lexandriy Lionel.

There was plenty to connect them: middle districts, lost brothers, other hardships. But these were not such unique things in the Games. There had to be something else. Some glue bonding them, pushing them to do the outrageous.

When he hit upon it, it was well after one o'clock in the morning. Glamour grabbed his Gamemakers badge, swiping it to open any and all locked doors in his path. He stopped only briefly to pick up a black cane with a crystal ball knob. It was ostentatious, even for him, but he felt certain it would make his point.

He twirled it in the elevator, catching the light of the florescents, before being admitted into the dark District Seven apartments. His badge admitted him anywhere he wanted to go, and right now, he had only one place to be.

The moment he entered Mackenzie Pryce's bed room, he flipped on the lights. "Morning, Crown Victor. We need to have a little chat." he said slowly. He'd been curious about Mackenzie, but was disappointed to find him merely a boy, instead of the man the cameras made him out to be. A sigh escaped as he twirled the cane.

"I've been thinking. What in all of Panem do Denali Lyons and Lexandriy Lionel have in common? It must be something to have pulled off such a heist, hmm? Some important connection, some compelling reason they're being such a giant pain in the ass. And you know, I think I figured it out."

He let the pointy end of the cane drop to the floor, punctuating his speech, as he came to a halt at Mackenzie's side. "It's you."

My demeanor made you wait,
but the consequences stayed
I killed everything we were
Baby, murder was a case

song: 27 hours

Title: "Three Wishes" by The Pierces

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

Ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves
Ain't it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes
Ain't it exciting you, the rumble where you lay
Ain't you my baby, ain't you my babe

Mackenzie Pryce was not one to lose his head. He valued control so much that it typically meant giving up anything fun, but he'd made fast friends with the Capitol darling, Kieran Emberstatt, and that one had a way of getting what he wanted.

Both of Mackenzie's tributes survived the bloodbath; one of them had won the wealth. And Kieran never, ever had to return to this place. Celebrating seemed necessary, so he'd agreed to one drink, and then another. By the time his head hit the delivery-word feather pillows in his room, Mackenzie's thoughts were wading knee-deep in vodka.

He closed his eyes and let them float; Isn't the headache supposed to come after I've slept?

Either he hadn't fallen completely asleep yet, or he hadn't been asleep long enough to feel like it, but when his door opened, he found a new level of hatred for Jacquelyn, who must've left it unlocked just so she could barge in bright and early.

He scowled at the silhouette until the light flipped on and he realized who was standing in his doorway.

"Mr. Kin—" he tried.

"Morning, Crown Victor. We need to have a little chat," The gamemaker clearly wanted to skip to the good parts as he interrupted in a somewhat urgent tone. Mackenzie recognized the feeling that was building in his gut and making his throat tighten. It was the same feeling he got when his mother crossed her arms over her chest at the dinner table and raised an eyebrow toward him. Guilt. Enough of it to instantly make him think about every bad thing he'd ever done and consider which of those things had prompted Glamour Kinkade of all fucking people to come and find him.

He sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes and willing the pounding in his head to subside, or for Glamour to use his inside voice.

"I've been thinking. What in all of Panem do Denali Lyons and Lexandriy Lionel have in common? It must be something to have pulled off such a heist, hmm? Some important connection, some compelling reason they're being such a giant pain in the ass. And you know, I think I figured it out."

He just watched, confusion thick on his brow as Mr. Kinkade pranced ever-closer to Mackenzie, the sharp click of his walking stick against the linoleum emphasizing his presence.

"It's you."

Mackenzie waited to see if there was anything more Glamour cared to say, hoping so much that he would smile and say he was kidding that he almost believed it would happen. It didn't. His eyes flicked to the bedside table and he grumbled at the lack of bottled water. He stood, realizing for the first time how chilly it was now that his bare torso wasn't covered up by the blanket, and walked over to the mini-fridge on the other side of the room.

"Trouble," he mused. He said the word like it was a lie.

"They're passionate people, Mr. Kinkade. Both of them," he paused long enough to offer Glamour a bottle, "Sometimes passion begets explosions."

He took a long sip, trying his best to seem respectful or at the very least, as if he wasn't annoyed with Glamour's presence.

"But it also creates drama, which I assume does wonders for viewing rates, no?"

It was, after all, a quell.

Ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves
Ain't it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes
Ain't it exciting you, the rumble where you lay
Ain't you my baby, ain't you my babe

song: NFWMB

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

Always told you not to love me
Now look what you made me do
I got poison in my pocket,
told you I was bad news

"Sometimes passion begets explosions."

For a moment, Glamour is impressed by how fluidly Mackenzie moves from sleep to wakefulness. And then he counts the years between them and scowls. The Victor, shirtless, crosses the room to acquire a bottle of - water. No offering for Glamour, of course. He grips the crystal ball a little more tightly.

"But it also creates drama, which I assume does wonders for viewing rates, no?"

He fishes his cell phone out of his pocket, swiping through the gallery until he lands on the right clip. Only then does he turn the device over to Mackenzie, knowing that if any security is watching, they'll both be interrupted by Peacekeepers. "Passion is a convenient excuse, but the Lyons girl invoked your name, Mackenzie Pryce."

The volume is muffled, but the replay crystal clear. “Mackenzie taught Zion how to hold an axe... I told him I’d watch your back,” Denali says through labored breaths. Once the replay has looped through three times, Glamour snatches the phone out of the victor's hands and tucks it safely away.

"You advised a girl from another District to protect your tribute. What is it about you middle and lower districts? You can't be content to play the Games solo? You can't be grateful for the victors you already have? Why must it always be more? Why? WHY?"

Perhaps he had started with his inside voice, because it now reaches a crescendo. He gulps in air, heart racing. Why did he always let the tributes - and clearly some victors - get under his porcelain skin? He shakes his head to clear the thought and then, much more quietly, speaks again: "you should really stick to worrying about your own tributes. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

My demeanor made you wait,
but the consequences stayed
I killed everything we were
Baby, murder was a case

song: 27 hours

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

Ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves
Ain't it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes
Ain't it exciting you, the rumble where you lay
Ain't you my baby, ain't you my babe

"Passion is a convenient excuse, but the Lyons girl invoked your name, Mackenzie Pryce."

Glamour pulled out his cell phone; Mackenzie already knew what he was going to see. It had already been blowing up on all the news channels, rumors of an affair between Mackenzie and Denali; Rumors of an affair between Mackenzie and Lex. He hadn't thought anyone would ever be stupid enough to buy into them and yet the face of the Capitol was handing his phone over to Mackenzie and demanding an explanation before the sun had so much as peaked over the horizon.

"Mackenzie taught Zion how to hold an axe... I told him I’d watch your back."

The words stung with painful memory each time they looped. Denali, breathless and so full of rage and regret. He hadn't ever meant to make things harder for her; certainly not for Lex, either.

"You advised a girl from another District to protect your tribute. What is it about you middle and lower districts? You can't be content to play the Games solo?" Glamour voice had somehow grown even louder; Mackenzie fought himself from rolling his eyes or shutting them in pain at the same time. The anger within him was growing more hungry, but he kept himself quiet. What was a Victor to a Gamemaker, but a toy that had already been played with to the point of breaking? But Glamour carried on.

"You can't be grateful for the victors you already have? Why must it always be more? Why? Why?"

"Sorry, I'm confused. Am I not supposed to do everything I can to keep my tributes alive?"

The words were biting; too harsh to have ever be considered respectful. He regretted saying them just as soon as they came out, closing his eyes and wiping his mouth as if he could somehow unspeak them. Glamour seemed to steel himself as well and Mackenzie was grateful.

"You should really stick to worrying about your own tributes. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Lions, ever as strong as they might have been, were no match for a god like Glamour Kinkade; Mackenzie understood exactly what he was saying. Denali was going to die. Whatever she had done, the decision had been made; there would be no second-guessing, there would be no intervention. Which meant Lex would sleep beside a dead girl that night, and might have suffered the repercussions of Mackenzie's mistake as well.

"I understand that I've upset you, Mr. Kinkade, and I apologize. But—" he took a step closer to Glamour and tried his best to sound as pathetic and desperate as he suddenly felt.

"But don't punish them for my mistake. Please."

Ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves
Ain't it like thunder under earth, the sound it makes
Ain't it exciting you, the rumble where you lay
Ain't you my baby, ain't you my babe

song: NFWMB

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

Always told you not to love me
Now look what you made me do
I got poison in my pocket,
told you I was bad news

There's a palpable shift in the room. Not just the tension between them, but a change in the very temperature. It's suddenly much colder as Mackenzie's eyes round with the weight of Glamour's threat. No doubt this is what President Snow feels like all the time. Glamour tests the feeling, decides he likes it, but also sees the limits of its usefulness. If Leon ever looked at him like that -

He grimaces just a bit at the thought as Mackenzie draws near. "I understand that I've upset you, Mr. Kinkade, and I apologize. But— But don't punish them for my mistake. Please."

Leniency. Someone had once told him that mercy was the greatest form of power. But who had said that? Surely not the President. Not Anarcha. Well. If he couldn't recall the source, what good was the advice?

The grimace twisted into a cheshire cat smile. "As though I would let you have any actual effect on my Games, victor. I'll do what I have to do to make the Eightieth Games the most incredible, memorable, shocking Games anyone has ever seen. You just stick to your job, and I'll stick to mine."

He extended one leather gloved hand slowly. "Agreed?"

My demeanor made you wait,
but the consequences stayed
I killed everything we were
Baby, murder was a case

song: 27 hours