Post by Wallace Barker on Dec 12, 2015 2:16:35 GMT -6
Wallace sat in a small alcove in the corner of the alcove of the media library. He sunk into the comfortable chair, which bothered him, he felt like he was being swallowed and it made him nervous. Sitting up as straight as he could in the odd chair he accessed the files of the media archives through a highly technical machine. Being as versed as he was with the capitol technology, he actually didn't have much knowledge of past games.
Wallace pulled up a video of the previous games from last year. A fiery grouping of towers was erected over a large rising pool of lava. He glanced over each tributes profile which was organized out to the right of the video feed, it was interactive so that he could hover over each photo and it would give him a general feed of knowledge on the tribute.
Wallace sat for hours in the library watching the skill training of each tribute and trying to make his predictions as to who would make it the furthest. Watching highlights of each tributes death Wallace began to shift anxiously in his chair. Some of the things he saw were brutal. He was used to death, but he was used to it being quiet, depressed and weak, not brutal and meticulous.
"Fuck me" he muttered to himself as he watched a hulking black teenager slip jumping over a lava pit and falling into the molten rock. He watched as a crippled boy (who he had pegged to die first despite his intellect) throw his body over a time bomb to save his friend. Wallace felt sick to his stomach.
But he was learning the nature of the games, and it was invaluable knowledge.
He glanced around. He heard voices elsewhere in the library, but they seemed far off and alien to him.
He turned back to the archive and looked up the next previous year.
Wallace pulled up a video of the previous games from last year. A fiery grouping of towers was erected over a large rising pool of lava. He glanced over each tributes profile which was organized out to the right of the video feed, it was interactive so that he could hover over each photo and it would give him a general feed of knowledge on the tribute.
Wallace sat for hours in the library watching the skill training of each tribute and trying to make his predictions as to who would make it the furthest. Watching highlights of each tributes death Wallace began to shift anxiously in his chair. Some of the things he saw were brutal. He was used to death, but he was used to it being quiet, depressed and weak, not brutal and meticulous.
"Fuck me" he muttered to himself as he watched a hulking black teenager slip jumping over a lava pit and falling into the molten rock. He watched as a crippled boy (who he had pegged to die first despite his intellect) throw his body over a time bomb to save his friend. Wallace felt sick to his stomach.
But he was learning the nature of the games, and it was invaluable knowledge.
He glanced around. He heard voices elsewhere in the library, but they seemed far off and alien to him.
He turned back to the archive and looked up the next previous year.
