deep end — zeke & nico.

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

Being invited to the career training center is... new. To say the absolute least.

And being honest, that's exactly what Nico wants. He's tired, tired of the show and the grandeur, tired of being heralded like some come again king and then being reminded in quiet who exactly the true king is. President Snow was pleased with your speech, his handler had said to him the morning before, after Nico had stepped down from the stage and nearly felt like he was going to vomit after staring at the photo of Berlina Batalanto for too long.

Looking into the faces of the people that had built his home, knowing full well that it had been his alliance that had brought him to his end.

It made him sick.

But here he was again, being pushed through a set of doors that he has no interest in passing through, with the memory of the sea still echoing through him. He had set out to barely remember the night before, had let people drape themselves across his lap and thinks maybe he even smiled when they poured liquor down his throat. He hadn't been able to bear looking in the mirror when he woke up, but a sneaking heartbreak in the back of his head makes him think there's a dark mark on his throat where one person tried to claim him.

He remembers pushing them away, running and running and running still, out of breath and out of heart to feel what he needed to feel.

"This is Zeke Lachlan," his handler says, snapping him back to the present, and Nico realizes that he hadn't been paying any attention to the people around him. "One of our best."

Nico doesn't smile at the boy.

There was no best anything here.

"A delight, I'm sure," Nico says, and he can feel his handler bristle at his side. Be more polite, he can almost hear them say. He tries to remember why he's been brought here, what he's supposed to do, when finally he remembers. "I hear I'm supposed to watch some of you spar today." Supposed to, echoes in his head, wonders if the boy will hear the words beneath it.

I'd rather fucking not.

"You gonna be one of 'em?"

sidney

[sidney]

It's been a morning.

Between training the new recruits—one of which was his obstinate little sister with far too much to prove—and receiving word that the latest victor was paying the Academy a visit, Zeke hasn't stopped moving since he woke up at dawn. And by one in the afternoon when the doors to his training room are pushed wide open and Nico Thorne strides in with an entire entourage, Zeke's already had enough surprises today. What more could he possibly show someone who's already had the privelege of being in the Games and winning.

This is Zeke Lachlan. One of our best.

He extends out a hand, but doesn't smile; he's not sure his face even knows how to do such a thing. But it's met with air as the boy from Twelve doesn't even bother to look in his direction. It makes Zeke's blood boil, the disrespect in what he would consider a holy place—his place of divine worship. At least until his name is called and he's given passage to a true battlefield. 

With a nudge from his handler, Nico's distant stare focuses in on Zeke and finally, he speaks. A delight, I'm sure. He presses his tongue to his cheek and tightens the hand he'd offered the boy into a fist at his side, trying his best not to take a swing. That'd be reckless, and a fight this disrespectful little shit would surely lose. I hear I'm supposed to watch some of you spar today. You gonna be one of 'em?

A laugh escapes him, uncharacteristic yet coated in disbelief. Does he not know what an honor it would be to see Zeke fight? It's an art form. To watch a Lachlan step onto the mat and square up is to see Death ready itself for a fight. As much has been said about Zeke and he's positive the same will be said for Parker, once she learns to tamp down that rage and turn it into power. But the boy before him couldn't possibly know that, couldn't possibly understand. There's no Careers in Twelve, just hungry people and caves to mine. But that doesn't stop Zeke from grinding his teeth and thinking show some goddamn respect.

"You could watch, sure," he says softly. Years spent learning how to never show his hand, how to always be the calm and the storm, how to do whatever it takes to get what he wants—and right now he wants to fight—have prepared him for this very moment. "The new class shows promise. But something tells me you couldn't care less."

Zeke clasps his hands behind his back and takes a step back, making a sharp left turn to walk an entire circle around Nico. He examines his gait, his muscle tone, and his newly fashioned appendage. He vaguely remembers watching as it was cleaved from him. Perfect, he thinks and gives it a flick with his index finger. 

"We could put that to use instead." It's a taunt; a challenge for the boy who walked into Zeke's sanctum and didn't even bother to genuflect.

"I'd love to see what you're capable of."

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

The other boy walks around Nico in a slow circle, and he can't help but roll his eyes. The predatory, taunting stance of the boy was plain as day, and the familiarity almost has Nico chuckling.

Almost.

"You're not wrong," Nico says, careful not to tell the other boy you're right. Nico had spent his entire life being looked down on boys like him, people from the merchant part of town in Twelve that thought they could spit on Nico just because his lungs were filled with soot. These were the kind of people that never deserve to be told they were right, even when they are. "I couldn't give a less of a fuck."

Nico's escort does gasp a little at that, and he's sure that he'll get chewed out later, maybe even sent a cruel letter from Snow himself for daring to insult this academy for the so-called future greats. Never mind the fact that Annie had been the first victor from Four in how many years? Something over a decade. If anyone asked Nico, sure seemed to him like Four was on its own pathetic slide towards death. After all, it wasn't even like Annie seemed like anything to write home about, as far as Nico was concerned at least.

Though taunting her at that party last night had been somewhat fun, he'd give her that.

An unkind half-smile, Nico only just barely contains the shive that wants to run down his spine when Zeke flicks his hand out and touches Nico's right arm. He doesn't know if he'll ever get used to it, everyone feeling comfortable just invading his space, reaching out and crossing boundaries where Nico would put up concrete walls if the world would let him.

"But I've never much been one for rising to the occasion," Nico replies, voice thick with not-so-veiled hostility to match the playful edge in Zeke's own. "Much less shitty bait."

[sidney]

You're not wrong.

I couldn't give less of a fuck.

Zeke doesn't like the look of him.
Not one bit.

"How original," is all he says. Face unmoving, though his onyx hues work hard to pierce the facade Nico puts on. One seemingly built on the notion that anyone who puts forth effort in getting to where he's been—inside that glorious arena—is ludicrous and not worth the time of day. "Disdain for those who would deem you a hero." He takes a step away, clasping his hands behind him as he settles back into a far less defensive stance, chest no longer puffed out and tone a little less unnerved, but his gaze is still filled with daggers. "Why on Earth would you want to provide them with hope, right? All I do is train them, but they look to you and those who came before you like gods."

It pains him to admit it, to resign himself and his efforts as mundane in comparison to what the boy before him has accomplished, but maybe if he took off those glasses with lenses dipped in unadulterated hatred, Nico could see he's been given an opportunity today. To show the career youths of this district that the games they wish so hard to enter are about more than just punishment for our ancestor's sins. Zeke knows this already. He learned a long time ago that while death is the biggest part of becoming a tribute, glory is at the end of the road.  And that is what he tries to instill into his students, above all else.

"Twelve must be so proud," he smiles faintly, locking eyes with the handler that followed closely behind Nico, relishing in their exasperated expression. Maybe not, he thinks to himself. Especially if this is how he behaves.

I've never much been one for rising to the occasion. Much less shitty bait.

"Said no victor ever," Zeke scoffs, eyes rolling back in his head at the sheer audacity of this boy. "Tell me, do you lie often? Or is this just a treat for me today? We all—" he turns around slightly and gestures toward the twenty or so academy recruits doing drills fifteen feet away, "—saw you win. I'd say you rose to that occasion." He leans in once more, with a wink and a playful tone Zeke never usually embraces unless Talia is in the room, "Shitty bait or not. Though I'd say Diana had it coming, wouldn't you?"