All Along the Watchtower [Harlow/Kate/Kass]

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Lt. Harlow Basra

Forehead against the windowpane, Harlow could feel the soft vibrations as the train sped away from the capitol and toward the outskirts of civilization. He’d stuck an elbow atop the hardwood of the table in front of him and propped his chin up with his fist so he could get a better view of the nothing that drifted by alongside the train. Scattered across the table were dossiers on various citizens of eleven (Vasco Izar, Katelyn Persimmon, Maya Fel...), their black and white photographs tacked alongside pages of notes about each of them.

Hard to believe that two weeks prior he’d been scaling a cliff face outside of twelve, trouncing through mud and scraping across the wilderness on the hunt. It had taken him three days to get on the heels of his target, but by god were the freezing nights under the district stars worth it. His target had been a wily one, traveling in the dead of night and making sure to dig fire pits that hardly left a trace. But even the best of wanderers made mistakes, broken branches or footprints, perhaps a spare candy wrapper from a treat they’d been saving for a special occasion.

Harlow’d asked him if it had been worth it when they’d come face to face at last. There was some sort of strange irony in indulgence having given the man’s position away. But then, pigs getting their throats slit all squealed the same.

But what was he to do then, boots propped up against the table and back against the red satin of a booth in the dining car? He’d abandoned the peacekeeper whites for something that would’ve invited less scorn (as much as his sister complained his turtleneck still made him look like he had his foot up his ass). Harlow could recognize that the victors from eleven were some of the least likely to play ball with him. Kirito and Harbinger weren’t the weak links, as far as he knew, both having families (pressure points at least), but not as unmoored as Katelyn or Kass were.

As he fixed himself a cup of coffee from behind the counter, the station abandoned by whatever avox they’d sent along, he started to review the best plan of attack. Olivia had wanted to send a message to eleven, and with one that was loud enough, the rest of the districts as well: any plans for sedition or rebellion would be crushed with extreme prejudice.

Which was fine. It’d been some time since anyone had bothered to drop a fresh dose of reality on the districts. But Harlow had made sure to note that he’d be doing it his way. One that wasn’t just about leaving a pile of bodies to burn or some short-lived execution that people were bound to forget.

He blew at the steam collecting on the top of his coffee cup and took a sip.

The capitol had gone and killed the Wickersham family and left just the mother alive; it sent a message, but where was the artistry? They’d mourn them and talk about how it could happen to their families, too. Anyone who’d so much as whispered how they admired Delroy would think twice. But that wouldn’t do much to stop those who were too far gone from pressing for rebellion.

As he washed off his cup in the sink, he could hear the sound of footsteps, and then the door push open.

“What can I get you?” Harlow offered gamely, both hands flat against the countertop. No reason to start other than cordial. They had to work with him anyway – or not. It was their choice.

[sbeeg]

There's battle lines being drawn

The trembling in her left hand was only emphasized by the stillness of her metal one. Kass flexed her fingers before shoving them in her pocket.

Part of her hoped the train derailed before they reached Eleven. Then she'd never have to look Vasco in the eye and know she betrayed him.

Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth and she wondered what it would be like to lose it. An Avox stood outside her room, their clean uniform hanging limply from their thin frame. Kass had almost become accustomed to their presence. Always lurking by the wall, silent and unseen. They'd never give her the kindness of becoming an Avox, whatever they planned for her in the Detention Center would be far worse. She thought of Opal's finger. Kass already had a shortage of them, she couldn't lose another one.

Her mouth was dry. Kass grabbed her cards and started for the dining car. She'd grab some coffee and do a reading if only to give her mind something to focus on.

She slid open the door to the dining car and was grateful to find it devoid of Victors, but it was not completely empty.

“What can I get you?” It was not an Avox. Kass froze in the doorway, her metal fingers clutching her cards so tightly they began to bend. He was older, maybe Killian's age but he was certainly not like Killian.

She thought of the years it had been since she last saw the man who raised her. He was still safe from her, unlike poor Vasco Izar who had flown too close to desperate vulnerable people.

He wore no uniform but she knew it was him. Peacekeepers were easy to spot out of their whites. Always straight backed, chin raised. He leaned against the counter like a bartender ready to serve her a drink.

Kass thought about running back to her room, but forced her feet to stay in place. She would not run from a chump in a turtleneck. If he wanted to play barista let him waste his time.

"Coffee."

She slipped into a booth and set down her deck, keeping her eye on the messy pile of painted and printed cards. This would give her a moment to size him up. She liked her Peacekeepers dumb but doubted Olivia did was well. No one was perfect and Lt. Harlow was no exception. Olivia may be out of her weight class, but she was certain this man was not and Kass had plenty of time to figure him out before their shoes hit Eleven dirt.

lyrics from For What It's Worth by Buffalo Springfield | table by griffin

[charade]

k a t e l y n .

"I wish I was just as strong
as I make myself out to be"

The ride back home was uncomfortable for Katelyn. Upcoming nuptials aside, there was little to look forward to. Once again, she was not the captain of her ship; once again she was a pawn, but it was made worse by knowing she wasn’t fighting against it this time.

She’d convinced herself that compliancy was the best option, but after what had happened with Delroy, she was less sure about the path she’d chosen.

The lieutenant was already in the car when she entered, a man with eyes like flecks of obsidian.

He was making Kass a cup of coffee, which was an odd thing to see. The young victor sat in a booth, messing with her cards and looking about as uncomfortable as Katelyn felt. It was hard, feeling the noose tighten around one’s neck. Harder still when the noose became a leash.

She inhaled deeply.

Much as she hated to admit it, while the country’s coffee beans were grown in eleven, the cafes in the Capitol were honestly on another level. While some of the concoctions they came up with were ridiculous, (Affogato. Ice cream in coffee? Really?) she’d developed a taste for some of the drinks. She’d never seen an espresso machine as a child, but the one in her kitchen in the training center had quickly become a necessity.

“Afternoon,” she said, keeping her voice neutral, as though she were ordering a drink at a little café or bistro. She stepped past him and made her own beverage with some of the coffee in the pot; a mocha with a sprinkle of cinnamon and a dash of almond milk. She then sat on one of the stools that was affixed to the train car floor with poise, albeit a bit stiffly.

“Lieutenant Harlow, right?” she asked him. The old bat had seemed to think he was the perfect man for the job; which of course, led Katelyn to believe that he was horrible, even by peacekeeper standards. Which meant keeping her cool and not doing anything overly antagonistic. Much as she might have wanted to, there was more at stake than her personal distaste.

And with an impressionable teenager watching her to boot.

“Is there anything you need to know about eleven?”

Her tone was professional. The white-knuckled grip on her coffee mug was not.

elegant

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Lt. Harlow Basra

Kassandra Nerys was smaller than Harlow was expecting her to be. Fragile, almost. The way she held for a moment in the doorframe gave away her fear, no less than the sight of the cards in her hand changing shape. He watched her as she took a spot in one of the booths with the patient curiosity of a dog ready to flush a raft of ducks into the sky before the guns sounded. He wondered what it would be like to hear her scream. Would it sound like it had when she’d been in the arena, or would it shred her vocal cords and rattle ear drums?

“You got it.” He replied, voice quiet. Harlow settled to pour another pot of coffee for his little victor. Bold that she let him make her a drink, but then, everyone here would be on their best behavior for now. Kass wasn’t stupid or else she’d have never made it this far. He could appreciate that in a woman. He mixed in a dollop of milk and started to stir with a spoon when Katelyn entered. He gave a tap against the porcelain and flicked away the drip of coffee into the sink next to him.

Harlow hadn’t been assigned to the detention center when Katelyn had been a resident, though he wished he’d been. He’d watched the tapes of the amateurs poking and prodding with needles. The way she’d held out against them with such conviction rather than fall to pieces was a disgrace. Looking at her now, he couldn’t help but think there was no reason for her to be standing there. She’d gone and lived and loved – well, that remained to be seen.

“Please, just Harlow for now.” He stepped around the bar and walked the cup of coffee over to Kass. When he reached her table, he leaned close to her, with a whispered careful now, as he set the cup in front of her. He turned back to the bar and moved to pour himself another cup. “I had heard that you were all business. I like that about you.”

He never wavered from warm, steady in how he spoke to both of them. Without prejudice that people like Olivia could never master, Harlow had learned to tame the disdain each time he looked at their faces. All that came from years of being able to do whatever he wanted with them. They stopped mattering as people when he came to understand they each were just two sets of eyes, a heart, lungs, and all the things under their skin held together with a fragile set of bones and sheet of skin.

“Listen, I want you both to know that I understand. I don’t want to be here either. But Secretary Montferrat is on a tear and looking for someone to blame for your boy Delroy calling for an uprising.” He blew across his coffee before taking a sip. Delroy had gone and royally fucked every member of district eleven for at least the next few years. But then, kids like Delroy didn’t just get their ideas out of thin air. He’d taken whatever traumas he’d seen and folded them into a rallying cry. One that in such a fragile republic, threatened to spill more blood than necessary. “Kid could’ve at least tried to use some subtext. But. Y’know.”

Harlow gave a shrug. Both of them yearned for a boy like Delroy to come along, he was sure of it. Kass because she’d never had anything to hold onto, so of course smashing the way of the world for everyone else made sense. And Katelyn? She’d get to play everyone’s hero. Fulfill the emptiness that victorship never brought her. Fix the grief she seemed to have from twenty-three deaths tattooed across her body.

“Why don’t you start by letting me know what you know about this mayor of yours? I could do with some character testimony. From what I read he seems squeaky clean for a politician. Seems a shame he’s gotten caught up in all this.” Harlow leaned his elbows across the bar and held his coffee cup between his hands with a smile. “The good and the bad. Don’t be afraid not to hold back. I appreciate honesty.”

[sbeeg]

There's something happening here
But what it is ain't exactly clear

Katelyn Persimmon stepped into the car and the air dropped a degree. The memory of fudge sticking to her teeth tasted sour and Olivia's voice clawed through her skull:

"Or perhaps has your own “friend” Katelyn investigating you and your fellow victors already?"

She had yet to speak to Katelyn since meeting Olivia and now, stuck in the same train car, she could choke on her resentment.

Olivia already had a hand around Opal's throat, it wouldn't take much to get Katelyn to betray everyone to keep her safe.

Kass thought of the rooftop. Of embarrassing tears and frustrated words. She had immediately gone down to the Eleven compartments and spoken with Persimmon. Did Katelyn wait a day to hand over the tape of their conversation or had she done it as soon as Kass went to bed?

The Victor had nearly forgotten about the Peacekeeper until he set the coffee cup down in front of her and reminded her to be careful. Not in a sinister way, but from the mundaneness of a hot drink. Since when had she worried about something so harmless?

She didn't drink from the cup but looked to Lt. Harlow as he talked about Delroy. He seemed almost... apologetic?

She thought of the Peacekeepers that were just going through motions by kicking her off the street when she was younger. Half-heartedly escorting her to the school building and not bothering to make sure she actually went to class. Certainly that wasn't the kind of office Olivia would pick for this. She seemed to hold this man in high esteem but he seemed like such a dork.

He asked about Vasco and Kass could no longer bite back her words.

"Vasco Izar is a good man," she said. "The Council should count themselves lucky that such a man is watching over District Eleven."

Olivia was clear in her intentions to punish Vasco. Lt. Harlow was here as her representative and as soon as the train pulled into the station he'd set off to do just that. Suddenly these drawn out minutes on the tribute train felt precious. Every second well spent could weaken the case against Vasco.

She took the coffee cup and managed to bring it to her lips without spilling it. It was hot and not at all sweet, just a touch of milk. Exactly how she liked it.

How did he know that?

lyrics from For What It's Worth by Buffalo Springfield | table by griffin

[charade]

k a t e l y n .

"I wish I was just as strong
as I make myself out to be"

Please, just Harlow for now.

Katelyn decided immediately that she did not like the man.

If her time in the detention center had taught her anything, it was that the smiling, quiet peacekeepers were more dangerous than the ones that started screaming and using their batons at the slightest provocation.

So he’d heard that she was all business? Olivia, no doubt. Or—

Well, she was sure there were files on all of them. Just another perk of living in the society that they did. He talked and to his credit, he sounded genial. But it had been a long time since Katelyn had taken anyone other than Vasco and Victors at face value. He then insulted Delroy’s conviction casually, as though reprimanding a child for forgetting to tie his shoe laces. Just doing his duty, was what he made it sound like.

Asking the two of them about Vasco’s spotless record like he was discussing the weather.

Kass spoke first, calling Vasco a good man and declaring that the council was lucky to have him in charge of things back home. She’d taken the words right out of Katelyn’s mouth and not for the first time, Katelyn was sad that they’d gotten off on the wrong foot. They were more alike than either of them would have admitted.

At least when it came to the people they cared about.

It was a shame that Kass has started avoiding her again, it had seemed like they’d connected for once.

“If he seems clean,” she began quietly, fighting to keep the ice out of her tone. “It’s because he is. Vasco is not one for scandals, he genuinely cares about people. Pushes them to be better than they are.” There. That was safe enough wasn’t it? Not a hint about his rebel leanings, nothing about how his family was his weak spot.

She sipped at her coffee and burned her tongue, but she kept drinking despite the pain, keeping the wince off her face.

It was never a good idea to show weakness in the presence of predators.

elegant

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Lt. Harlow Basra

Harlow leaned in, his large frame closer to the hardwood of the counter, hands tight against his coffee cup. He stared over at Kass, her little body tense in her seat as she struck down any hint that Vasco might’ve been a criminal. He imagined her much like some of the wanderers he’d hunted. So ready to fight, fight until their last breathes. A hollow strength that shattered under enough pressure, because if you took away the thing they’d made themselves – a wanderer, a victor, mayor – they couldn’t know who they were anymore. But the good thing was that she was young enough to be rebuilt. As soon as she was back on her hands and knees learning how to grovel. A collar and leash would help. It did wonders for obedience.

When Katelyn spoke, he kept staring over at Kass. Had they planned to work together, or was it that Vasco Izar had burrowed so deeply into eleven’s heart they were willing to put it all at risk for him? He slowly lifted his coffee to take another drink and as he lowered it down, stared down at his reflection in the black.

“I can’t wait to meet him then. Sounds like a good friend to you both.” He set down his cup and crossed his arms across his chest. If they weren’t willing to sell him out there – and he expected they wouldn’t – he’d get them to reveal enough through bits and pieces. There was enough time to nail the asshole of a mayor to the wall. Not that it wasn’t already a done deal, but it would be so much more gratifying if his own friends led to his undoing. Everyone had their weaknesses. It would only be a matter of time, whether through attrition or brute force, that he would bring them to their knees.

“None of us want to be going through this. I’ll just say I'd rather be out on assignment than here,” Harlow gave a little smile and chuckled. “I know you don’t want to be sharing a train car with a man like me.” He looked over his shoulder to Katelyn. “You’ve every right not to trust me. But this will be easier if we find a way that we can work together. And I want to pledge to you now that whatever goes into my report you’ll be able to see.” After he was done writing it, of course. And after he’d added all the damning evidence that would lead to Vasco Izar hanging from the gallows, with special footnotes to give advance credit to Kassandra Nerys and Katelyn Persimmon.

“Working together should be easy enough for you two though, shouldn’t it?” Harlow gave a side long glance from Katelyn and then to Kass. “I imagine you’re used to fighting for someone’s life together. At least this time it doesn’t have to lead to their death now does it?”

Go on and fight, then, he wanted to tell them. Nothing could be quite as satisfying as the last moments, when, looking down into their eyes, they could see defeat.

But they wouldn’t know really him or who he was until it was too late.

[sbeeg]

There's a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware

Despite her own frustration with Persimmon, Kass knew neither Victor would say a bad thing about Vasco Izar. Katelyn had been through decades of press junkets and knew how to wear a poker face. It was not Katelyn's words that made her feel uneasy, but Lt. Harlow's gaze that she could feel burning into her skin. She sat still, her eyes firmly planted on Katelyn knowing if she looked away she'd meet a Peacekeeper's eyes.

His eyes moved to Persimmon and, finally free of her audience, Kass wrinkled her nose. He was a talker. Lots of words and plenty of shallow cuts. Delroy and death. Their failures always on the edge of the discussion. A compliment and then an undercut. The first time she could let slide, but a second one? He was doing it on purpose. If he thought he was being funny he was sincerely mistaken.

Ever since speaking to Olivia she had told herself to keep her head down and mouth shut, but Kass had never been very good at either one.

When his gaze met hers she was ready for it.

"Where is your usual assignment, Lieutenant?" she asked, eyes glued to his waiting for a flinch. "When you're not babysitting Victors do you file paperwork in Two or do you ticket kids in Six for being out after curfew?"

Kass propped her elbows up on the table, folding her hands and setting her chin on top of them. A pedestal for the grin she shot Lt. Harlow.

If he was going to look at her so much, she might as well give him a reason to.

lyrics from For What It's Worth by Buffalo Springfield | table by griffin

[charade]

k a t e l y n .

"I wish I was just as strong
as I make myself out to be"

The man was unnerving. The easy confidence, the way he smiled with his mouth but not his eyes; the way he was watching the young victor like a hawk. What was his game? What secret orders had that harpy of a woman given him? He claimed that he’d have preferred to be out on assignment as opposed to dealing with them, but somehow Katelyn didn’t quite believe him.

I know you don’t want to be sharing a train car with a man like me.
It was as much a threat as it was a reassurance.

It was difficult for Katelyn to decide what it was he was hiding, because he was being so candid about everything. But he couldn’t be trusted. She knew that. Not when he’d been handpicked by Olivia. He said that it should be easy for them to work together, that this time it didn’t have to lead to someone’s death. It was a threat to Vasco, and a dig at the tributes they’d lost over the last four years.

It was a barb that Kass couldn’t let go unanswered, asking him what his normal job was, and implying that he was a useless peacekeeper with a classic cherubic grin. Katelyn struggled to keep a wry smile off her face. Was that how Arbor and Mace had seen her all those years ago? Following her moral compass wherever it led her and not knowing when to stop talking?

A part of her wanted to build off of that, take a shot at Harlow herself, but over the years she’d learned the hard way that sometimes it was better to establish a decent working relationship. Even if she couldn’t stand who she was working with. Oh, she could have told Kass not to be rude, that he was an important man, which was why he’d been assigned to such a backwater district. Could have laughed.

But someone had to be the adult.

“I’m not opposed to working together,” she said after a moment. “But, Harlow you have to understand that the district as a whole is very community focused. We look out for own, even if we don’t get along.” She glanced at Kass, wondering if the girl got her meaning. “Eleven is a place with a strong foundation. It's people may bend in the wind, but they do not break.”

elegant

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Lt. Harlow Basra

He listened to Kass mewl out an attempt to belittle him. He placed his palms flat against the cool grain of the wood bar and stared down at the whites of his fingernails. If that had been her shot at making him angry, she'd a long way to go. She needed someone to teach her how to truly cut through flesh, not whatever haphazard attempt that had been. Someone who could mold the pathetic effort into what it should’ve been – barbs that didn’t just glance flesh put dug underneath and peeled back the skin. Something that could expose the sinew and bone so that so much as a poke would set its victim to scream.

“I mean, someone has to keep those kids off the streets. They did almost blow-up Teddy Ursa, after all.” He pointed a finger in Kass’s direction and smiled. “Boom!”

Harlow cackled, a loud, bellowing laugh that carried on across the train car. He waved a hand in front of his face and shook his head, “No, no, I wish I got to spend my time wailing on loiterers in six, that would be an easy way to clock in and clock out, wouldn’t it? No. I work for central intelligence.”

They never made a name for themselves the way other peace keeping forces had, but that was precisely because they had no reason to do so. Their mission was to keep order without unnecessary intervention. Their work stayed under the confines of darkened hallways and interrogation rooms; disappearing without a trace was sleight of hand for him. He stuck his elbow atop the bar and leaned over toward the older victor as she spoke.

Bent but not broken. Katelyn Persimmon had enough pride to sink all of Eleven, now didn’t she? But she played her part well, without back talk or foolishness. Her moves calculated and her speech offering a warning. This would be a challenge, should he try to break apart the elevens.

There'd been something in all of it though - looking out for one another even if they didn't get along - that as strong as Katelyn was, she'd stretch herself thin to keep the others safe. And there was only so far one person could go before they started to crumble.

“You know, it’s precisely that sort of thing that has me worried, Katelyn. Eleven had been getting on so well, but then this guy gets into office, and lately, well, the reports have been troubling.” Harlow sucked his lips against his teeth and gave a mock grimace. “You’re fond of sayings there, aren’t you? Ever hear that a few bad apples could spoil a whole bunch? Neysa and Delroy got those ideas from somewhere, and I’m afraid a lot of people are saying that Vasco has been stirring up these sorts of… feelings.”

He wondered how much of a denial the mayor would issue when the time came to pass. Not that it would matter.

“Perhaps we could start with easier questions. You spend a lot of time with him, don't you? How frequently does Vasco speak anything other than Panem’s one, true lawful language?”

[sbeeg]

Stop, Children, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down

Her insult seemed to bounce right off his turtleneck. Lt. Harlow let out a loud laugh, joking about the unrest in Six and then pointing a finger at her as if aiming a gun. Boom.

Kass' smile fell. It was so easy to get some people to break, but this guy was made a far tougher stuff. Then again the people she had hurt had been scared children like her, or grieving families. Perhaps she had not been competing on an even playing field. How do you hurt a man who has not lost his soul or his family to the Games? It was the easiest wound to grind salt into, one she resorted to often.

Her ding to his pride did nothing, but he did make it clear he was no regular patrol keeper but one sent from central intelligence. She was certain he didn't get there by being empathetic and kind.

Katelyn was far better at this empty double talking, but then again she had a lot more to lose if the wrong word slipped out.

Lt. Harlow sent another sly cut at the tributes whose bodies were on the train being taken to rest in the District Eleven tribute garden. Neysa and Delroy were not bad apples. They grew despite the poisoned soil and tainted water Panem used to raise them.

"How frequently does Vasco speak anything other than Panem’s one, true lawful language?"

Kass felt her stomach flip. She thought of Marisol Izar teaching her how to make tamales. How the woman had sang a song and told her about Navidad- a holiday before Panem and the Games. She had only been a Victor for a few months at that point, an exhausted fourteen year girl with nothing to come back to. She taught her a few words, and at the end of it all the tamales had tasted better than anything she'd had from the Capitol.

Would they punish an old woman for speaking a different language?

Kass thought of the argizaiola Vasco had brought her. How it ended up as a centerpiece at a dinner in the Capitol along with belongings from other Victors' houses. He'd have them for Neysa and Delroy too like the tributes before them. Would that be a crime too?

"What other language is there to speak?" she snorted, feigning ignorance. Kass picked up her cards and wiggled the deck at him. "Lt. Harlow have you ever had a reading?"

If Lt. Harlow wanted to know anything else about Vasco Izar or his family, he was going to be extremely disappointed.

lyrics from For What It's Worth by Buffalo Springfield | table by griffin

[charade]

k a t e l y n .

"I wish I was just as strong
as I make myself out to be"

Yes, the older she got the more she agreed with the platitudes and sayings that she’d grown up with in eleven, and yes, one rotten apple spoiling the barrel was one of them. She knew the parallel he was drawing with Vasco was correct, even if it was wrong. He made people better, even if that meant espousing some ideals that the capitol found questionable.

Kass answered first, trying to deflect and then change the subject by holding up her deck of cards. Katelyn took a few sips of her coffee and debated what to say next. She’d met men like Harlow before; or at least she hoped she had a good enough read on him to categorize him as such. Most peacekeepers were on a power trip. Ego, pride, what have you.

It was prudent to tread carefully until he revealed a bit more about himself.

“If you mean eleven’s regional slang,” she began carefully, “Then I would say no more than any other person.” She shrugged. “In four someone might roll up some sushi while trying to get their sea legs. In ten you might be greeted with a howdy y’all or insulted with a lowdown varmint while the air carries the scent of chili con carne.”

It was the truth. Every district had its own unique flavor, way of doing things. And the last time she’d checked, diversity was not a crime, even if wrongthink was. “So in eleven, some people might say hola instead of hello or howdy while drinking a cold glass of picon.”

Was it laying it on a little thick to feign a look of youthful innocence?

“There’s nothing untoward about that is there? Why, even the capitol has its own subcultures that take from ages past. I know this great restaurant on style street called La Petite Maison,” She drained the rest of her mug and set it down with a small clink. “They serve the most wonderful brioche".

The country's dialect was just littered with things borrowed from cultures that no longer existed. Why should the capitol trouble themselves about anything of the sort? She knew why, of course. But it was nice to pretend otherwise.

elegant

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

Lt. Harlow Basra

“You know what? I’d love to see what you think my future holds.” Harlow stepped out from behind the bar and started on his way toward the booth. He nodded along as Katelyn spoke, and slid slowly into his seat across from Kass with a squeak. He was happy to get a bit closer, to really get a good look at what he would be up against. Though seeing her then, he was reminded how much of a child she really was.

Eighty-six years and they still hadn’t stamped out the rubbish from people’s heads. Far more insidious was that it’d wormed its way into everyday language, sprinkled across the capitol for novelty and spat out the mouths of districters still clinging to some long-forgotten world. Kass lied to his face to protect it, though he doubted she understood what it meant for a man to reach back into the past and pull it around himself as a cloak against the present. She was the type to play pretend with whatever drew her attention, just as she did with the playing cards in her hand. She’d discard it once she’d lost interest or grew out of it.

Katelyn, however, waxed on about how it shouldn’t have been a crime to speak the language when so much of it had been borrowed to become a part of panem. They were a melting pot of traditions following the dark days. What remained were pieces of what had been allowed to survive. No one could be punished for holding onto history that refused to be forgotten, now could they? She reasoned her way though, laying out an explanation that would’ve made any capitol judge nod along in agreement.

“My, aren’t you the cunning linguist,” As Harlow spoke, he brought his elbows on the table, and folded his fingers together. He made no effort to hide the scars covering the back of his hands, born from all his excursions to the wastelands between districts.

“There certainly are still pieces scattered all over the place, aren’t there? I wonder if the people in four even know why it’s called sushi.” He shifted again, this time putting one arm atop the back of the booth to get comfortable. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s not just food or names. It’s a whole language. It’s celebrating things that no one else does. They put themselves first, and not all of panem. It’s gathering together and thinking about how good they have it, rather than how lucky they ought to think they are.”

He leaned further back into his booth and looked up at the metal tilework across the ceiling.

“You can’t trust people like that. They won’t ever accept the world as it is, and that’s where the trouble starts.” His voice grew quieter and he stared across the table at Kass. “What do your cards have to say about that, huh?”

[sbeeg]

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep

The longer he spoke the more Kass' stomach churned. She set her eyes on her cards, shuffling them with the awkwardness metal fingers brought. She used to be able to do all sorts of shuffling tricks to earn another coin when she was younger, but the stiff steel hand had limited them. Not that her cards could handle much more abuse. They were worn and creased, having lived in her pocket for years and then been through the games. A few were stiff and stood out, the ones she had replaced after the Arena.

"That's not how the cards work," she said, focusing on his last words and not the cruel ones he had said about the Izars. The farther she dragged the conversation away from that family the better. She wondered if Katelyn could do the same. Such an upstanding woman. She could finally see how she had gotten herself into the Detention Center.

Kassandra admired it. Even now, faced with the same opponent Kass could feel herself retreating, hiding behind distractions and card tricks. Katelyn didn't avert her gaze, didn't derail the conversation.

This was just a man in a stupid turtleneck, she had to stop being so timid.

"Wouldn't happy people be more productive?" Kass floats out, her eyes on her cards. "Miserable people make miserable profits. If their status doesn't change, why not let them think they have it good?"

She set the deck down on the table between them.

"Think of what you want your reading about. Your past, your future, your love life, your career—I don't care what—then split the deck."

lyrics from For What It's Worth by Buffalo Springfield | table by griffin

[charade]

k a t e l y n .

"I wish I was just as strong
as I make myself out to be"

He was against idealism.

People like him always were. They didn’t like those who stood out, those who thought differently. Kass didn’t grasp the whole concept, not yet. When you were young and full of fire, it was difficult for anything to make sense other than your own viewpoint.

Of course, Kass’s thoughts on worker productiveness were correct, but it wasn’t the right kind of correct. Not for a man who’d sucking the kool-aid straight from the teat all his life.

“If you starve a man,” she began, “and then give him a crust of bread, he’ll thank you for it with tears in his eyes, even knowing you are lying to him about it being a slice of cake. Eventually, he might even come to believe that it is.”

Was this what Vasco meant? About changing hearts and minds before changing the world? She stared down into her cup of coffee. Wars were won with words, but only if people were willing to listen. “If you give him a slice of cake, he’ll start to wonder why he hasn’t gotten it before. Shouldn’t he deserve it? Then he’ll want to share it; then he’ll start telling other people that they deserve cake too.”

Far better to give one person here and there a good life, make them fight for it as children, and then tell everyone else that they too might one day achieve that. "And before you know it, everyone wants to eat cake but no one is willing to bake it.”

Katelyn sipped at her coffee and stared coolly at the peacekeeper over the rim. 

“At least, that’s how it was explained to me when I was a young victor.”

elegant