Beer in the Locker Room {Open}

[kap]

Trigger warning: Physical abuse from paternal figure, alcoholism

zedekiah luna

---

---

what part

of living

Alcohol. At this point in your life, it was the only thing keeping you from going absolutely insane. You know it's terrible to have a reliance on such a thing, but for you, it's all that you can do to cope with what you deal with on a day to day basis inside your own home. Your father has never been one that you would think should be considered to have a kind soul. To some people, though, they can't imagine why you would ever think such a thing. That's because they've never seen how he really is, behind closed doors, inside his own home. They've never seen how he treats his children. The people who think that your father is a good man don't know that he's the causes of the scars and bruises upon your body that you claim are solely from training as a career.

Sure, that's where some of them have come from, but certainly not the majority of them.

Regardless, today, you'd had enough of him. You'd been hit- no- you'd been beaten rather harshly multiple times today, and you wanted out. Your father had just left for work, so you grabbed a six pack of beer from the refrigerator, stuck it in a backpack and headed out the front door of your home when you knew your father wouldn't be turning back to come home because he forgot something or wanted to throw an additional punch in your direction.

Walking out of the house and down the street, you headed toward the direction of the training center. Although, you weren't going to the training center to train. If you were, why would you be bringing a six pack of beer with you in your gym bag, rather than bringing the clothes that you would normally change into instead?

When you walked in the front doors of the training center, you were greeted by one of the trainers, but you simply gave a curt nod without slowing down your rather quick walking pace toward the boys' locker room. Upon entering the locker room, you went to the back corner that was furthest away from anyone else who may enter, and furthest away from the door, sat down on the floor in front of the lockers, set your backpack in front of you, and unzipped it. You then proceeded to take out the six pack of beer, set it in front of you, and went to remove one of the drinks from it, not caring who saw you with alcohol in the training center. It wasn't like it was something that you hadn't done before. Besides, the trainers there knew that you often did this, and it didn't particularly seem to bother them. At least, not after you'd done it a few times. It was a rather regular thing at this point, so it never fazed them.

Before you could take one of the drinks out, however, you heard an unfamiliar voice, and looked up to see an unfamiliar face. You hadn't registered what they'd said to you, so you spoke to them instead.

"Can I help you?" you inquired.

---

519 words

says you

gotta die

---

---

table by arx

[charade]

I am a child of district four. Saltwater runs in my veins. I will sweep my enemies before me like a flood. I was born in the tempest, raised in the storm. I am the hurricane. This was Katrina Sykes mantra, and she repeated it over and over as she sparred with the trainer; left hook, left hook, jab, jab, jab with her right, follow it up with a kick to the side of the head. The trainer stumbled, and she finished him off by sweeping the leg. He lay flat on the floor for a moment, before mumbling that they were done for the day.

“Better luck next time!” she called after him as he left to hit the showers. There were some other people in the center, but none that she beyond getting into the occasional spat with. It wasn’t her fault, not really. It wasn’t her fault that people had a tendency to be dumb, or that they had the audacity to be dumb in her presence. How was anybody supposed to put up with such stupidity? Was it any wonder that she picked fights on an almost daily basis? '

Was it any wonder that she almost always won them? As she spent most of every day in the training center, she’d gotten used to a lot of the faces, even if she hardly knew any of the names. She doubted they were important anyway. But as she took off her boxing gloves and her pads, she saw a face that she’d been looking for.

Shit, what was it? Zebadiah?

Rumor around the training center was that Zebulon brought beer into the training center on occasion. Better still, the coaches didn’t give a flying fuck about it. She watched him vanish into the boy’s locker room, and grumbled. Couldn’t he have the decency to drink out in the open? Again, it wasn’t like anyone cared. She cared, but only insomuch as she wanted a bottle. Free beer was the best beer, and if she had to take it by force, she would.

Katrina toweled off the sweat on her neck and wiped her face before hanging the cloth around her neck and shoulders. There was likely a rule about not having any girls in the locker room. Probably put in place by some limp dicked politician that was worried about teen pregnancies. Locker rooms? As if. Gross.

But, you know what? Rules were made to be broken, shattered into a million pieces by the same hammer used to break the mold; Katrina was the fuckin patron saint of all the above, the six foot one bronze goddess that could break a man over her knee like sun bleached driftwood. She stalked straight into the locker room, heedless of anyone giving her a look. It didn’t take overly long to find her target, people that wanted to be left alone always headed for the most out of the way spot in the room. He was in front of the lockers, looking forlornly at a six-pack. She could taste the lukewarm swill already.

“Zeke right? Or was it Zach?”

He stared at her blankly, and Katrina had to resist the urge not to punch him in his stupid face right then and there. She swallowed the rising fury, even though it stuck in her throat, and bit back a snarky retort. It wouldn’t do to antagonize him, not yet anyway. Not when he had something she wanted.

After, she reminded herself. You pick a fight with them after.

“Can I help you?” he said after a moment.

“Yeah,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “You can start by giving me a cold one.”

[kap]

Trigger warning: Alcoholism

zedekiah luna

---

---

what part

of living

I suppose it took me a bit longer than it should have to come to the realization that the voice speaking to me had come from a girl. A girl, in the guy's locker room. Although, I suppose the reason that it hadn't initially fazed me was because I didn't truly care that she was in here. It was more the fact that she'd decided to ask for one of my beers that threw me off a little bit. I raised an eyebrow at her. If she seriously thought she was going to get one before I even took my own out, she was severely mistaken.

"How about I get one for myself, first?" I said to her. "You can sit and wait your turn." I said this with a bit of a smirk on my face to let her know that I wasn't angry- simply playing around a bit with my words. Besides, she was pretty. What said I couldn't make the time talking to a pretty girl last a little longer?

I took out one of the beers and opened it with the bottle opener that I almost always kept in my pocket. Then, I opened one for her, too. I'm not quite sure what exactly prompted me to open it for her, but it ended up happening anyway. I handed her the drink.

"You're lucky you're pretty," I told her. "I don't usually share my beer with just anyone," I laughed a little bit, then proceeding to take a sip from my own drink. The cold beer slithered down my throat, and while many people I knew were disgusted by the taste, it gave me a sense of relief. I also knew plenty of people who felt the same way as I did, however. I'd become an alcoholic as a coping mechanism, which I knew wasn't healthy, but I truly didn't care.

Luckily, this girl hadn't come in here to scold me for my beer. Plus, she had the audacity to walk into the guys' locker room, approach a random dude who had a six pack of beer with him and ask for one. She had some guts to her.

I liked that.

I took another long sip of beer and a glance in her direction. Maybe I should strike up a bit more of a conversation.

"You get kicks out of walking into the guys' locker room or something?" I teased.

---

398 words

says you

gotta die

---

---

table by arx

[charade]

KATRINA SYKES

“…You can sit and wait your turn.” He smirked, and Katrina patiently imagined wiping it off of his face with a well-placed uppercut. However, she stayed her hand, reminding herself that fights unsanctioned by a trainer’s supervision usually resulted in being banned from the center for a few days, and after missing four days of training for knocking that catty bitch out in the girl’s bathroom, she wasn’t eager to get suspended again.

As she sat, Zander produced a bottle opener from his pocket and popped the top, then did the same with a second, which she snatched from his grasp as he held it out to her, immediately taking a swig and surprised to find out that it was indeed, still cold. “You’re lucky you’re pretty,” he said, and Katrina choked on the mouthful of liquid she had. She coughed briefly as he laughed about how he didn’t share with just anyone. Then she debating slapping him upside the head, but decided after a moment that she didn’t care enough to. He could think what he wanted, it just took her off guard.

Zahir then asked her if she got her kicks from walking into the guy’s locker room and she shrugged. “Yeah,” she replied sardonically, kicking him lightly on the side of his shin with one shoe and internally lamenting that she hadn’t worn her steel toed boots. “I guess I do.” Katrina took a long draught in silence and savored the somewhat bitter taste, the prickly feeling on her tongue and in the back of her throat. Katrina didn’t drink all that often, not like her sister, but there was something comforting about downing a beer or two after the end of a hard day training, or a day working down at the docks.

“I’m not going to pay you in any way for the drink, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said before chugging the rest of the bottle and setting it down. A few seconds later she made a fist and double-tapped her chest, letting out a fairly large belch. It tasted worse the second time around. 

What a day.

Katrina reached over him with a yawn and grabbed a bottle out of the pack. She pulled her pocketknife out and pried the top off, flicking the cap away from where the two of them were sitting; if he protested at all, she ignored him. “So, I’m pretty am I?” she said with a dangerous smile. “Tell me Zane, do you try that line on all the girls, or just the ones you share your beer with? What are you doing in here anyway? Is this how you get your kicks?”

[kap]

zedekiah luna

---

---

what part

of living

The girl was sassy too, at least a little bit. I liked that.

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess I do.”

A swift kick was delivered to the side of my shin from the girl. It had actually caught me a bit off guard, but it hadn't hurt. I didn't let her see me react to it in any sort of outward manner, as I'd always had to stay tough growing up. You don't show pain when you feel it, I'd been told; that's just showing weakness.

I smirked in response to what she'd said. She was pretty, I'd give her that, too. I wasn't planning to go anywhere with my flirting, though. I just found amusement in the tease that came with how I spoke to attractive individuals.

“I’m not going to pay you in any way for the drink, if that’s what you’re thinking.” These words that she spoke were followed by her finishing her drink and belching in what seemed like a triumphant way. I laughed.

Before I could stop her, she took another drink. I hadn't even finished mine yet. Therefore, as soon as she opened her second one, I downed the rest of my first one and opened a second one. I took a sip of it when she spoke to me again, her face showing a bit of a devious expression.

“So, I’m pretty am I?” I smirked at her in response. “Tell me Zane, do you try that line on all the girls, or just the ones you share your beer with? What are you doing in here anyway? Is this how you get your kicks?”

The first thing I did in response to what she said was correct her on my name. She'd gotten the first letter of it right, but after that point, when it came to my name, she was completely wrong. The other stuff she said? I'd address that in a minute.

"It's Zedekiah, or Zed, not Zane," I said to the girl. "You probably don't care, though." I decided after that that I may as well let her know what I thought of her other choice of words.

"Don't flatter yourself, hun. You're pretty, but that's as far as I'll go on that one." I paused for a moment and then continued. "Do I try that on all the girls, though, or just the ones I share my beer with?" I laughed. "I'd say it's more like, I try it on whoever I feel like trying it on, beer or not."

I raised an eyebrow at her and then took another swig of my beer.

"I'm in here for my own reasons. Took some of my dad's beer and ditched the house. Beyond that, it's none of your business."

What I'd said made me sound a lot tougher than I really was.

I'd run away out of fear and wanting to escape, not out of being some bad ass that decided to take his dad's beer for fun.

---

490 words

says you

gotta die

---

---

table by arx

[charade]

KATRINA SYKES

Zeddy boy hadn’t reacted to the light kick at all, which was a tad disappointing. Next time, she’d have to make it hurt. That was his name as it turned out. Zedekiah. Or Zed. She turned the name over in her mouth. Interesting. “Don’t flatter yourself, hun. You’re pretty, but that’s as far as I’ll go on that one.” He went on to say that it was more of a line that he tried on anyone if he felt like it. Katrina cackled. Zed had a pair at least, willing to trade backhanded compliments with her. She could respect that.

The answer he gave really wasn’t much of one at all, more of a deflection with unstated “reasons” for nicking his father’s beer and ditching the house; and the way he said it was none of her business suggested that he had no intention of saying anything further on the matter. Fine by her, they were strangers after all. It wasn’t like she was itching to share her life story with every tom, dick and harry that she met over the course of the week. That was something her sister Irene would do. Way too trusting.

Katrina had learned at an early age that you needed to look out for number one. Everyone was out for themselves when it really came down to it. You bother trying to make friends and they’d turn on you whenever it became convenient for them. The only person who had never let her down was herself. “Alright then, keep your secrets,” she said with a shrug. “I’m Katrina, by the way. Or Kat. Not that you bothered to ask.” she said, taking a long sip. He was an okay sort, she had decided. That being said, he didn’t really strike her as the career type. Or at least, in her estimation of him, he didn’t look like he thought training was that important. Nah, he struck her as the type that was avoiding something.

Or someone.

After all, he was the kind of person to drink beer in the corner of the locker room by himself. Katrina swished some of the liquid around in her mouth before swallowing and turning to look at him again. “So what do you plan on doing after this six pack is gone anyway? I could use a new punching bag that punches back.” She smirked over the top of the bottle. A little sparring session never hurt anyone important, and she was starting to feel relaxed from the end of her last one. “I’m partial to javelins and spears personally,” she announced. “But I don’t mind hand to hand. That’s what I was doing before I followed you into here.” Ah, to join the pantheon of victors. Here was hoping the new Mayor Perch could put the screws to Leon Krigel. It had been far, far too long since their district had been graced with a win.

Zed didn’t strike her as the type to care about that sort of thing though, so she didn’t bring it up. A small part of her was thinking about starting a fight just for the hell of it, but he was fairly chill compared to most of the people he knew. She wondered if the rest of his family was like him. Thinking of family brought her to thoughts of her sisters. Juliette was at a party last she’d checked. Something with an actual DJ. Katrina grimaced. The Sykes were far from being a part of the District elite, but Juliette insisted on acting like she was on a whole other level. On the other hand, Irene was…

Well there was no telling what Irene was up to, but whatever it was there was a good chance that it was boring as hell. Writing poetry or volunteering at a soup kitchen or some other goody two shoes bullshit. She was the type to get teary eyed over accidentally stepping on an insect, and half the time her cheerfulness made Katrina want to puke. What they both needed was some lessons in the school of hard knocks. But despite her best efforts, neither of them would join her in the training center. Would she kick their asses? Yeah, probably. But it was stupid not to train. What the hell would they do if they got reaped?

Die horribly, for one.

Though as she was the only one that had a chance, she’d volunteer before it got that far. Family. She had to look out for them, it was her job as the oldest, even though it grated on her nerves. Katrina checked her bottle’s contents. It was maybe half empty. There were still a few bottles left but she was starting to get full. Still, if Zed complained about something she’d drink the rest just to spite him. She was already considering just taking what was left and leaving. She’d gotten what she wanted, and if he wasn’t all that that interested in talking to her…

Then again, if he decided to fight back there was a good chance that the remaining bottles would get broken and render the entire thing meaningless. Katrina grumbled. The counselor at the school had said she was overly aggressive; pugnacious. Whatever the fuck that meant. She’d threatened to punch her after that, she knew an insult when she heard one, even if she didn’t know the word exactly. She leaned back and rested on the locker, stretching out her legs and letting out a sigh.

“So your Dad’s beer eh?” she said after a moment. “Guess he won’t be missing it.”