Life After

Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Good, just keep doing that and you'll survive for the next couple of minutes . . . probably.

It had been months since the 15th Annual Hunger Games. It had been months since Streebell's best friend, Hazon Curchaw, was murdered by some career from District 2 or where ever he was from. At least that bastard was killed by the victor. 

Streebell grimaced. How could she think something like that? The person that killed Hazon had no choice. It was the Hunger Games. It was the Capitol. They killed Hazon, not the career. He shouldn't have died either. Even if he was the one that physically committed the act, he was not guilty of the crime. 

Streebell remembered the days she spent in District 10 with Charlie, the girl that Hazon loved. She remembered sitting with Charlie and her brothers in front of the TV screen, watching the Games. She remembered watching Hazon die . . .

That was why she had to leave District 10. She couldn't remain in the place where she watched her best friend, her brother die. At least that's what she had told Charlie. But that was only part of the reason. The other part was that she could see the life that they all could have had together; Hazon, Charlie, and Streebell going through life together. Streebell knew that Hazon would have followed Charlie back to District 10, and Streebell would have been happy to follow. She considered those two her family and they all would have been inseparable . . . if only they could have been.

She left Charlie in District 10, asking Charlie if she would go back to District 8 with Streebell, but Charlie had declined and promised to visit whenever possible. Like that was likely. It was hard enough for them both to sneak into District 10. Even harder for Charlie to slip out of 10 and into 8 again. It wasn't just a leisurely stroll down the street to a friend's house. It seemed impossible for them to meet again any time soon.

Now, as Streebell sat in what used to be hers and Hazon's apartment, preparing herself for her next fight at the club, she felt a hole in her heart looking at all the belongings that were Hazon's things. It caused her so much pain. She often wondered why she had come back at all. But, if she was being honest, she knew this was better than leaving her home to be repossessed by Peace Keepers who would ransack their stuff and defile their home. . . . No, this was much better. The pain was worth at least that.

Loki walked into the raggedy shack of a barn house that supposedly ran the fights. As soon as he was inside, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. The place was an all out fighting arena slash pub. There was bar at the far corner of the room with all kinds of homemade-looking alcoholic beverages behind it. It also had a few tipsy, rowdy on-lookers staring towards the center of the very large space where there were two men (one of them looked like a Peace Keeper) fighting in a makeshift fighting ring. As Loki got closer to the fight, he realized that the ring itself was simply marked by a length of rope forming a circle on a dirt floor.

Jeez, this is as underground ghetto as it gets. Loki thought snidely. He turned his attention fully towards the two men, or more like boys, that were currently doing little more than swinging their fists around aimlessly and pouncing on each other like angry baby chinchillas. He quickly decided that this was not worth his time and wandered around until he found a man holding a box that looked like it was full of money. He figured this must be the man in charge of this place since it appeared he was in charge of the betting.

Loki approached the man and asked him, "You in charge?"

The man, who looked to be about 40 or so, answered, "Who would be asking?" The man eyed Loki suspiciously.

Loki rolled his eyes and said, "I want to fight." The man relaxed his features and smiled.

"Well, why didn't you just say that earlier?" The man clapped Loki on the back and continued, "The name's Dogar, ringmaster extraordinaire. Who might you be?"

"Loki," he answered Dogar plainly.

Dogar waited for him to say more, but when it became apparent that he wouldn't, Dogar threw his hands up, palms forward in a relenting gesture and said, "Fair enough." It didn't take much for Dogar to quickly dive into the basic rules of the ring: no weapons, no forfeits, etc. Loki quickly became bored with it all.

Finally, Dogar concluded, "I do have a fighter who wants to go in the next match, but no one will go against this fighter; one of the best, I tell you." Dogar smiled quite proudly as if he were the fighter himself. Again, Loki rolled his eyes. "However, you don't look exactly like you would be in this person's weight class. You could still fight 'em though, if it's okay with you." Dogar looked like he was trying to warn Loki with his eyes. Loki wasn't really worried at all, though. He was pretty beefy himself and he was sure he could take on any larger challenger with the fighting talent and skill he possessed.

"I'll do it." Loki agreed.

Streebell stood off to the side of the ring, staring into the center of it, not seeing, not hearing. She was somewhere else. She was getting into her element, her zone. She was preparing to fight.

Her concentration was suddenly broken by a voice in her ear. "Streebell," Dogar began almost hesitantly, "You have a challenger. An obvious new kid to the circuit, but he seems pretty confident and full of himself. I was hoping you would knock him down a few pegs." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dogar smirk, but Streebell never moved, never turned. She remained staring into the center of the ring.

After an awkward moment of silence from Streebell, Dogar just cleared his throat and continued. "He's in a different weight class than you . . . the challenger, I mean. I figured you probably wouldn't mind, but according to the rules, I have to ask you if you're okay with fighting someone who's considerably larger than you." He said the words like they were a punch line.

Typical Dogar, Streebell thought to herself, he wouldn't allow anyone to breathe if that went against any of the rules he had made for this place. He wouldn't even breathe.

Streebell turned her head towards Dogar. "You know I don't care." She turned fully towards him and gave him a small smile. "Let's go knock this newbie down a few pegs," she joked. Dogar beamed at her newfound enthusiasm.

She turned back to the now empty ring and kept the smile on her face.

"I'm ready for him." Streebell said confidently.

Loki sat at the bar, staring at another dull fight with two more idiots who obviously had no idea what they were doing. His eyes became unfocused and he began to fall into extreme boredom mode. When was this damn fight going to start, anyway?

Right on queue, Loki noticed Mr. "Ringmaster Extraordinaire" himself sauntering over towards him. Dogar stopped directly in front of the shabby bar stool Loki sat on. The middle-aged man had an optimistic, smug grin that Loki knew he was going hate every time he saw it. Every time he came back here to fight again, he would see that grin and immediately want to mercilessly beat it off of his face. Loki noticed that the grin had slowly faded from Dogar's countenance, and realized that he himself wore a scowl that displayed his pure hatred on his own face.

Loki rolled his eyes at Dogar's confused and slightly scared expression. "What is it?" Loki demanded.

After a moment, Dogar was back to the grinning and responded, "It's time, kid. You ready to fight?"

Loki grimaced. He didn't appreciate Dogar calling him a 'kid.' He simply nodded and allowed Dogar to lead him to the center of the makeshift "fighting ring" as he made some embellished announcement about Loki being the challenger about to face the reigning champion of the ring. Loki sighed impatiently. Why can't we just fight already?

He must have missed the opponent's announcement in his annoyed reverie because he was not expecting it when he was suddenly faced with a small girl. She couldn't have possibly been a day older than Loki was, and she was at least six inches shorter than him. If they were standing toe to toe, the top of her head would only go up to the bottom of his nose.

At first, Loki thought she might just be a spectator . . . but then, why would she be approaching him? Then, he looked around him incredulously, thinking it had to be some joke. Yet, she stood directly in front of him, looking completely serious. She couldn't actually be a fighter, could she? Her pretty face held no marks or scars. Her fairly attractive features didn't have any of the marring signs of a fighter that half the men here had. But here she stood, looking as though she was just waiting to take Loki down.

This was the undefeated champion that Dogar had promised him.

Loki chuckled. "You know, when Dogar said I'd be fighting someone outside of my weight class, I was expecting something . . . different." Loki laughed again.

The girl said nothing. She just stared at him with her eyes narrowed. Loki's smile faded as Dogar approached the two.

"You ready to fight Loki?"

"Yeah," Loki responded simply.

"Streebell?" Dogar turned his head toward the girl . . . Streebell.

She continued to stare at Loki as she nodded her agreement.

Loki smiled again and leaned over to Streebell. "I'll go easy on you, promise." Loki winked at her.

Dogar's eyebrows raised and as he walked away as he mumbled, "You should be asking her to go easy on you, kid."

Loki whipped his head towards the man angrily. Again with the 'kid.'

Dogar stepped out of the ring and announced the beginning of the fight.

The roundhouse kick she delivered to his face had him flying backwards and landing on his back. So, currently, he was lying on the ground with a shocked look on his face. They always had that exact same look. Every time someone fought Streebell for the first time their countenance portrayed shock, indignation, and a bloody nose. That was the look marring this pretty boy's features now as he lie on the ground.

Streebell just stood staring at him blankly and waited for him to get up. Slowly, he looked up at her and gathered himself as he gradually got back on his feet. He wiped the blood from his nose and stared at Streebell.

"Wow," he remarked, "You're pretty feisty for a little girl, aren't you?" The anger flared inside Streebell.

He was going to die.

"Well," he continued, "I didn't want to have to mess up your pretty face, but it looks like that just might have to be the case." He looked genuinely sad about this, which just brought Streebell to a whole new level of pissed off.

She lunged at him at lightening speed, but her arms closed around air. Streebell paused in confusion. He was standing right there . . .

Before she even had time to think anything else, she was in a full nelson. She gasped in shock and struggled to get free out of anger. But then, her training kicked in and she let her legs give out, allowing her to drop out of his grasp. On her way to the ground, she kicked his legs out from under him. Once again, he was on the floor. Streebell took her chance and placed a knee firmly on either side of his torso and trapped his wrists in her hands so that he was pinned to the ground. Dogar began his count to ten, but the pretty boy started laughing. He began moving under Streebell and her small hands couldn't keep a tight hold on his wrists. He freed his hands and grabbed her wrists in return. Then he rolled over onto Streebell, reversing their positions. She struggled harder than she thought she ever had in her life, but it was completely no use. He was incredibly strong and he didn't even budge. Eventually, Streebell gave up and waited for Dogar to finish his count down.

Just as Dogar was about to reach "9," Streebell was freed from her pin hold and scrambled to her feet, shocked. Her eyes searched for her opponent and found him on the opposite side of the ring, smirking.

"It's no fun if it ends that quickly," he explained. "Besides, I want to see what else you can do, Sweetheart."

Streebell's cheeks flamed red. Oh, he'll see what I can do alright.

She ran at him again, but again, her fist swung hard at nothing but air. The crowd that she had been trying to ignore up until now roared at this. Furious, she swung around to find him in the middle of the ring, with a slightly confused look on his face.

"No matter what, I just can't switch to the offensive. I can't hit you," he mused. He smiled at Streebell again. "I just can't bring myself to ruin any part of that pretty face of yours, Streebell."

Streebell all-out jumped at him. This time, he barely moved out of the way in time; but, she kept going after him as fast as she could, one move after the other. She was going purely off her training and her instincts at full speed, but it still wasn't enough. He just kept avoiding her, or redirecting her blows and she was running out of steam.

"Maybe it's because I can't hit a girl . . ." he continued to think out loud as Streebell went after him, "No, I really think it's just because I can't rearrange such a beautiful face." It got to a point where it really didn't seem like he was even trying to hit on her anymore, he was just trying to explain it all to himself.

He looked back at a gasping Streebell and smiled. "Oh well. I guess this means I'm going to have to find someone else to fight some other time."

Streebell growled in frustration, "Fight me! I can take a punch, dammit! Come on!"

His smile widened. "Even your voice is pretty."

"SHUT UP! Shut up and fight back!" Streebell screamed as she lunged at him a final time. But he stepped away again.

"Okay, if you insist. But, I won't hit your face," were the last words Streebell heard before she felt a fist connect with her temple and she fell into darkness.

The chick was good. That much was clear. Someone who actually watched the fight might have disagreed with that statement, but it really was entirely true. She was just unevenly matched. Loki had yet to meet anyone he could not take down other than his old man.

It really wasn't fair to her that she had to go up against Loki. He was on a different level entirely. A level much, much higher than her own. He was just too good for anyone to beat. He was too fast, too strong, too well trained. No one here could understand that because they could never understand why he had to be the best. Not just the best, miles above the best. If he wanted any hope of winning the Hunger Games, this is the level he had to be on and he was still pushing higher.

However, he couldn't push himself by fighting Streebell. Again, it's not that she wasn't good enough. In fact, she had potential to be almost as good as himself. It's just that he really couldn't hurt her and mess up any part of her beautiful form. Plus, she looked so small and fragile compared to Loki's huge frame that he felt more of an urge to protect her than punch her.

All this he thought as he stood outside of the ring staring at the girl he had just KO'd. Dogar sat beside her, trying to shake her awake. Even though he was tending to Streebell, he had his eyes locked on Loki with a shocked, wide-eyed expression that Loki found incredibly irritating. Loki was starting to think that there wasn't one thing about Dogar that didn't just piss him off to no end. Every once in a while Dogar would return his eyes to Streebell, checking to see if she had woken yet, then look at Loki all shocked again.

Someone finally brought over a bucket of water and poured it on Streebell's face. She woke with a start and jumped up, getting back into her fighting stance. Then she seemed to gather what had happened and whipped her head around to face Loki. She looked more stunned than Dogar. Loki smiled at her.

She looked irate, disgusted, hurt, stunned, and confused all in one expression. "You . . ." she began but didn't finish.

" . . . knocked you out cold." Loki finished for her. "You might have a little bump on the side of your head but, like I said I would, I avoided your face."

His words seemed to bring all his earlier statements about her pretty face back to her because she burned bright red just like she had before. He smiled even wider at that.

He was expecting her to try to hit him again . . . but she didn't. She swallowed her anger and stormed towards the exit. The smile immediately dropped from Loki's face and he began following her out without really having to tell his legs to do so.

When they were just outside the building, Streebell wheeled around to face him. The look of anger was still there. "Who the hell are you?!" she yelled straight in his face.

He was a bit stunned if only for a moment, but then introduced himself. "I'm Loki. Nice to meet me, isn't it?" He smiled then stretched out his hand . . . which she then proceeded to spit in. His winning smile was replaced by a grimace as he tried to shake the saliva off of his palm. "No need to be a bad sport about losing," he added.

She ignored his last comment and persisted in questioning him, "Where are you from? 'Cuz it sure as hell isn't here."

Damn! he thought, Is it really that obvious that I'm not from here? This was supposed to be a piece of cake, blending in here. I have to work on this. While he was thinking this he said, "What are you talking about? I'm from District Eight."

The small girl rolled her eyes. "Shut up," she sneered, "Anyone could see that you are from somewhere very far off from here." She proceeded to list all the things that marked him as an outsider. "I've never seen you before. You're clothes are way too new. You look lost. Not to mention the most glaring difference: your accent is one of the strangest things I've ever heard."

Probably for the first time in his life, Loki had no idea what to say. He always had the answers, or at least pretended he did. But now, he had nothing. He just stood there, staring at Streebell with a blank, still expression. He wracked his brain and finally found something.

"Why didn't Dogar notice the accent?" he asked a little frantically.

"Because," Streebell explained, clearly annoyed that she hadn't gotten a straight answer yet, "Dogar is a guy that knows asking questions gets a person somewhere they don't want to go." she said pointedly.

Loki was kind of panicking internally now. He didn't want to have to answer her, but he didn't want her blabbing to everyone about the suspicious kid either, so he tried pulling something else out of thin air, something he had been concerned with earlier, anyway. "Can I live with you?" he asked calmly.

Streebell had been prepared for pretty much anything . . . except that. She took a step back and her jaw dropped, leaving her gaping at him. Out of all the impolite, random, distracting, unexpected things he could have said, this was probably the most impolite, random, distracting, and unexpected. She gathered herself just enough to turn her gawking stare into a look that questioned the sanity of the already incredibly strange person in front of her.

"What?" was all she could manage. She really couldn't think of anything else.

Loki rolled his eyes, still looking a little panicked, but clearly somewhat pleased he had succeeded in diverting her prying questions. "Well, I need a place to stay," he began, taking a step toward her. "So far, you're my closest friend here," he said with a mocking smile.

She nearly cringed at those words and couldn't stop the disgusted shiver that ran down her spine. Really? His closest friend? Ugh! Where were his other friends? Although, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't have any. He's such a-

"Well?" Streebell's thoughts were cut off by Loki's impatient interruption. "What do you say, friend? Roomies?"

Streebell dug her nails into the palms of her hands. Had she not had a habit of biting them, they probably would have broken the skin. The look she gave Loki contained all the fury of hell itself. She was so enraged by his blatant disrespect and taunting that she only spat one word at him.

"No." She turned and began to walk briskly away from him. However, she was stopped suddenly by a large, strong hand catching her elbow. She whipped back around to face him, but stared daggers at his hand which had lingered a second too long on her arm.

He removed his hand and began to negotiate with her. "Okay, look. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I really do need a place to stay and at the moment, you really are my best bet." He leaned down close so that she could be eye level with his face, which she seriously considered spitting in, but she was curious to see what he would say.

"Plus," he continued in a hushed voice, "I wouldn't want to meet anyone else who might not be so care-free about me not being from District 8. I can't afford that right now." He looked her in the eyes very seriously, which diffused some of her ire . . . some of it.

"Well, that isn't my problem, and it's never going to be." She began to walk away again.

"I'll make it worth your while!" he yelled after her. She stopped in her tracks. She wasn't expecting anything out of him, and really the only thing she would be satisfied with was an explanation from him. Still, if he was gonna make offers, this could work to her advantage. . .

She turned again to face him and crossed her arms. She wore a stoic countenance that was all business. "I'm listening," she urged.

Loki raised an eyebrow as if he suddenly realized this was going to cost him.