Work Text:
Matte gripped the bloodstained mirror fragment tight in his left hand, fresh blood still dripping onto his fingers from the shard.
The blunt side had molded comfortably to the shape of his palm. The sharp side, though jagged, made the best of a bad job.
In his haste, he almost took the gun. It was the easy option, staring him right in the face. Matte was no bullseye, but his basic training results were adequate. District nine's resident corvid infestation even gave him some good target practice on his outings.
Skills weren't of any concern to Matte, demonstrated by the rather grotesque scene displayed infront of him.
No. His only qualm with the gun was the fact it took all the fun out of the kill.
One shot, maybe two or three if he was lucky, and it was over.
At least what the old mirror shard lacked in practicality it made up for in it's novelty.
"Hm," he mumbled, his gaze fixed on the image. His first kill. One of circumstance, but a kill nonetheless.
The irony was almost laughable. An easy victim walking directly into his grasp; his very own twisted serendipity.
His free hand dug around in the pocket of his fatigues for a loose cigarette, followed by his brother's silver lighter, still engraved with his initials, L.T.
He set it to the end of his cigarette and lit up.
Click.
Matte exhaled, mixed reaction of contempt and disgust spreading across his face.
The air in District nine was always too humid for a cigarette, it felt like taking a drag of thick mist. Yet another thing he hated about the ugly, backward place.
It was different.
He was sure if he went to any other district, even the Capitol he would think the same. It was just something about this place that unnerved him.
Maybe it was the crows, Daddy always said they were a bad omen.
No, no. He was sure it was more than that.
The obscure fields of wheat that surrounded him at every angle. The desolate streets that stretched round into the outskirts.
The people. All of them but especially the children. Blink and they become killers, thoughtless of the consequence.
There was a deep-rooted sickness engrained into District Nine. A plague that spread from the land to the crops to the people.
If he wasn't careful enough, it could spread to him, too.
He took one last drag of his cigarette, filling his lungs with humid smoke. If he didn't stop, he was sure the habit would kill him. That was tomorrow's problem.
He put the cigarette out on the inside of his fatigues and pocketed it, not wanting to leave any clues that could point to him.
Cigarettes weren't popular in Nine, these were from home.
What Matte didn't do was pocket the lighter.
His grip tightened around it as he walked past the bloody corpse of the farmer to the silo, only a few yards behind him, standing tall and ominous in the dark.
It was just his luck that this district was so poor. Any other material and the silo wouldn't of caught aflame.
Click.
Matte smiled to himself.
This is for you, luke.