Unconventional

Chapter 1 District One

Pain explodes across my cheek as the meaty fist crashes into it. I fall to the dirt floor of the arena, head spinning and black spots blooming across my vision momentarily blinding me. Laughter echoes off the stone walls as a fist closes around the collar of my black sports shirt and yanks me to my feet.

"Come on stand up, you little shit." I look up into the merciless blue eyes in front of me.

"I'd really rather not..." I whimper out feeling the pain from my bruised body. We've been at this for hours, everytime we start training Cathal chooses me as his sparring partner even though I'm the weakest and I've never won, you'd think Mister God Of War Incarnated would actually choose an opponent who could put up a decent fight in order to get stronger, but instead he fights me... or should I say beats the crap out of me? I don't understand why, I mean it'd make sense if he only attacked me outside of training, but inside the ring when he's supposed to prove he's the strongest of us Careers? That doesn't make sense, I mean even dainty doll Grace broke my nose last week, how does beating me up prove anything? Except that he's a mean hearted, over confident idiot.

I cry out as Cathal's knee smashes into my ribs. "Did I ask for your opinion?!" He hisses menacingly into my ear. "Now get up or I'll make you regret it!."

I don't even bother to try to stand, I can't avoid his attacks anyway so there'd literally be no difference if I laid here on the ground and let him kick me than if I got up and tried to fight him. So no, I'm staying right here in the dirt, like I'd ever give him what he wants even if this is humiliating. But that doesn't mean I have to give up. I suddenly reach out and bite Cathal's leg, hard.

"You pathetic guttersnipe!!!" He screams before he starts kicking me with his other leg. The blows hurt but I refuse to let go, instead I bite harder causing the metallic taste of blood to fill my mouth, even through the fabric of his designer sweat pants. Cathal's resulting shriek of pain is deafening, noticing how everyone claps their hands over their ears to block the sound, I let go of Cathal's leg, roll to my feet and sprint with the last bit of my energy past the teenagers and through the arena's archway. Several of them try to grab me but their momentary distraction made them just a bit too slow. And the only thing I beat them at everytime is speed.

I'm long gone before Cathal's scream stops echoing around the arena.

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I quickly weave through the crowded streets, ducking past the richly dressed pedastrians, and sometimes cutting through the alleys beside the expensive houses and luxury shops. District one is like a jewelry box, everything sparkles and glitters and the worth of everything is decided by its potential monetary value... including people. People are judged by their pedigre, much like dogs, if you come from a good family, have plenty of assests, and everything you own is designer, then you'll fit right in. But if you happen to be an orphan, whose family line is unknown, like me, then people treat you like you're diseased and will ignore you unless you're getting their stuff dirty, and then they'll only pay attention to you for long enough to pull out a fancy gun or sword and try to kill you. And since everyone in District One has been training to be brutal killers since childhood, having them pull a weapon on you is terrifying. Luckily I didn't learn that lesson the hard way, I was nine when I saw an old homeless man brush against this elegant woman holding a parasol, normally you'd expect the woman to start shrieking or something but instead she pulled the handle out of the parasol revealing a hidden sword, and ran the man through, then she cleaned the blade, sheathed it, and continued on her way, all without the slightest change in her expression. I turned and ran away as fast as I could, never looking back. I had nightmares about elegant women murdering me with creative hidden weapons for months.

I round another corner and wind up in a vastly different looking part of the city. Here there are no shops or beautiful houses, instead the buildings are half-collapsed ruins occupied by the surprisingly small homeless population (or maybe not so surprising considering what happened to that old man), including me. That's right I'm homeless... its not that bad considering this is the only part of the city Cathal won't follow me to. Here I can be free from torment and away from prying eyes, though if you expect some sort of camaraderie to exist between us exiles you're sorely mistaken. People here don't have incomes so they steal whatever they can get their hands on, and they'll kill you to do it. So if you want to survive you'll learn to sleep with one of your eyes open pretty quickly. Though odds here are still better than in the city, because there is only about twenty three residents in the slums, whereas in the city you have to keep an eye out for any of the thousands of residents. Which would fray your nerves pretty quickly, and that's why I live here.

I walk towards a building that only has two and a half of its walls still standing, as I step through the doorway I turn towards where a part of the roof has collapsed and is leaning against one of the walls, it looks a bit like a lean-to. Once I'm between the wall and roof piece I kneel next to a trap door hidden by a smaller piece of debris. I remove the steel key from around my neck and insert it in the lock. The lock opens with a soft click and I climb down into the basement, I lock it from the inside. The basement is pitch black but I easily navigate to a nearby oil lamp. The light reveals a rather sparce living space, there's a bookshelf against the left wall, the sagging wooden shelves are filled with torn and stained books, a little in front of the bookshelf there is a mound of blankets and cloth that serve as my bed, then there is a large empty space to the right that is only puntuated by a couple random pillars that don't reach the ceiling, and thus are obviously not part of the original structure, this is my training area. I practice here in secret so that one day I can beat Cathal and finally free myself from his tormenting. I drag my battered body to my bed and pull on my only pair of pajamas before collapsing into bed.

Who knows maybe Cathal will volunteer as tribute tomorrow and get himself killed... it seems more likely than me ever managing to beat him. These were my last thoughts before I fell asleep. Little did I know that life had a very different plan in mind for tomorrow.