CHRISTIAN JAMES ABES
Thirty-Four • Hunger Games, Gamemaker • Cillian Murphy
Quote:* Mirror, Mirror On A Wall;
- -I'll shatter you, and watch your pieces fall!
personality
This is Christian. Not a very fitting name, if you knew him well, but you never will. Christian doesn't let people in his mind, ever. If you do get in, it's doubtful you'd like what you find. It's a dark place, to be certain. Yet, he keeps it covered in bright colors. Think of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. Now, think of that factory, but it produces all manner of social experiments for young people to fight for their lives. Lovely little picture, isn't it? Would you like to visit? Sure you would. Before you can, however, you have to peak the interest of the gamemaker. Not Christian, though he is a Gamemaker. No, in Christian's mind lies the real gamemaker. This gamemaker plays games with everyone, even Christian. Fun games, of course.
Christian has been taking part in the gamemaker's games since he was a child. He always enjoyed the games, even when they did not look very pleasant to anyone else. Games are always fun though, the voice assured him. The voice is his own, of course - in his mind. He's not completely out of his right mind; he'll quickly assure you. Hearing a different voice in his mind - that would be troubling.
His favorite topic, however, is human beings. Human reactions and psychology positively fascinate him! He long ago learned all there was to learn about normal people in normal situations, which is when his real appetite for destruction began to grow into the gnawing hunger it is today. How would a naive young girl take to being tied up and taken advantage of? How would a strong, strapping young lad take to being brutally sexually harassed by a homosexual man? These are the kinds of questions that he wants the answers to, for God only knows what reason. What are his plans with this information, you might ask? Why, to take what he learns and put it toward building even more troubling experiments, of course.
At least half of the time though, the games are hardly games at all; at best, they're educational games. Christian's drive is not merely to hurt others. After all, that can get repetitive and boring. No, his primary objective is to learn. He's addicted to learning, taking in information, and abusing his mind like an overused household sponge.
The gamemaker isn't always there, he just pops in every now and then to give Christian ideas. Do you have all of your best ideas in the shower? Well, Christian has his best ideas in dark rooms, alone, where he can voice his thoughts to himself, and no one will bother him about it. He enjoys this little ritual, it fuels his creativity. It's so much easier to verbally let his train of thought flow out until it paints him a clear picture. At the same time, once Christian has his idea clarified for himself, he is painfully meticulous in his notes. Every last thing must be accounted for, finely tuned, and recorded in detail. He's very protective of his practices, experiments, and other endeavors. That being said, Christian is hardly secretive. He's never felt compelled to hide who - or what - he is; pressured, perhaps, but never compelled. Even in that short stint of adolescence that his sadism took on a new shape, it was still there, alive and kicking - kicking, punching, and beating on the walls to be completely let out.
The problem for Christian is his inherent need to share things; he likes to hurt people, not push them away, you see. He can keep a secret, of course. The man will become a hypothetical Fort Knox of information if need be. Unfortunately this causes him much anxiety, though it won't show. Writing has long been his favorite method of coping with this, but if he finds himself being lent an ear for rambling, you can be certain his lips will be smoking as he chatters rapidly. He'll never discuss his true thoughts though. Words are an artform to him, and he can paint elusive pictures without letting anyone know what they're truly being told; unless, of course, he wants to inform them.
Perhaps he should just learn to hide his unpleasant hobbies behind other, more acceptable activities? No, oh no. For Christian, this is not an option. When he becomes interested in something, complete tunnel vision occurs. The entire world is blocked out for the sake of his latest project. His attention span is quite impressive, but only when he applies himself. A bored Christian is almost amusing, if it weren't so frightening. He becomes completely disheveled - mentally, and physically. It's almost pitiful, if you don't know that a sadistic experiment involving as many innocents as possible would be the surest fix for him.
Still, even when he's desperate for something to occupy his mind, Christian is picky. He's very particular about what his loyalty, time, and energy go toward. He is all about conserving, even when it's not very necessary. It's just a habit, to put it simply. Waste not, want not. This is a much more subconscious habit though. After all, he doesn't even recycle.
Efficiency, surprisingly, isn't his strongest suite in his . . . work. He's meticulous, yes, and an insatiable perfectionist; these things are quite different, however, from being efficient. Christian will regularly take the longest route to a solution without even realizing it. His mind simply comes up with the solution, and then he moves forward. You could say he's impatient, in this aspect.
Impatience isn't only for crazy people, obviously. There are more than a few traits he possesses that seem to be there only for the purpose of making it harder for anyone to affirm how insane he truly is.
Christian is, surprisingly, quite charming. Obviously someone is bound to see past his sweet eyes and innocent smile eventually, but that doesn't mean the can't get him farther than most. He was taught by the best, of course. Socialites on both sides of the family; spanning generations even. After that many parties, introductions, and photo shoots, you can't help but learn a certain way to hold your head, smile, and perhaps wave to the camera.
It's all a show, of course. His ruse, even after years of practice, can still grow as thin as his patience. The quickest way to grate his charm away is through stupidity. Christian is very intelligent, and has no patience for fools, unless he can use their foolishness against them for his own amusement.
To refer to Christian as unfeeling may seem appropriate, but there are times when this would be quite wrong of an assumption. Though he completely lacks any capacity for sympathy, he can be quite sentimental. Christian can and will grow attached to things, as he sees fit. It's quite impossible to pin down just what will grab onto his will to care and never let go, but when it does he'll be sure to tell you. He's never had a problem expressing how he feels; this is quite unfortunate, for some.
* Crinkled Pages In A Book;
- -The past has you on a hook!
history
It starts innocently enough. He was a baby. Two years later, he's not a baby; innocence ends. It manifested in little ways, at the beginning. A cat in a refrigerator, a puppy flushed down the toilet, a neighborhood child with a rusty nail in their foot, the list goes on.
That's all boring, though. Let's skip ahead a few years and see if it gets more interesting.
Ah, here we are, around the fifteenth year. "The fifteenth year." It just sounds significant, doesn't it? Well, it is, for Christian, as well as a few others. Not everyone took away the cheerful, rose tinted memories of it that Christian did though. This was the year Christian fell in love. Ah, young love, such a beautiful thing, though, it was doomed to be otherwise in this case.
She was a sweet girl. Kind, charming, all around lovely. Of course, Christian was hardly interested in any of that. He was rebelling, against himself. His fascination with human responses to sadistic practices was boring him. The gamemaker in his mind was on his nerves, to put it simply. He wanted to rebel against it, fight it, adapt it. It was so frustrating to have no outlet for his sadistic desires. What could he do? He was fifteen years old, with a military socialite for an overbearing father. It was not often that he had a chance to get away and torture kittens, as he was wont to do. Instead, he found himself being pushed toward a life of normalcy, social graces, and altogether boring activities. Meanwhile, in his mind, was an unquenchable thirst for all manner of haunting activities. Well, he would simply have to ignore it and hope it would go away. He set out to satisfy his curiosity in a different way, a different flavor. He could study the behavior of normal people. Surely they had to have something interesting about them.
Her name was Audrina, and she was everything he had been told he wanted. Long blonde hair hung like a curtain, green eyes like pieces of emerald, great tits. What more could a young man ask for? Well, a demented mind, perhaps? At least, that was on Christian's dating must haves list. Her mind, unfortunately, was quite in the right. This sweet girl just couldn't keep him interested. He "got to know her" almost instantly. His hyper-tuned instincts picking up on every last thing she did, all of her nuances. It seemed every move she made was rehearsed, a painful grace about her. Not a hair out of place, and he hated it.
At every turn it seemed something was near him that brought his ridiculous fantasies to mind. A knife, a fork, a spoon. It was all around him and he couldn't silence his mind. Finally he decided he had to calm his raging need to harm someone or it would consume him. Self hurt never crossed his mind; that was ludicrous. What enjoyment could he garner from hurting himself? There was nothing to learn about himself, he knew himself quite well. No, the fun was in seeing other's reactions to situations, interesting situations. His plan to watch them in everyday life had failed, catastrophically. It was always the same thing. Sadness, happiness, and perhaps anger. Not even exciting anger, never rage. Their lives were just too perfect to be interesting, that would have to change, he would be the one to change it.
He worked at his plan slowly, but surely. His plan, you might like to know, was to subversively ruin the lives of everyone around him; starting with none other than his darling little Audrina.
As quickly as he had made the decision, he realized the plan was already in motion. He already held her heart, and he himself would make the perfect knife. The only thing left was to find where to stab, and which direction to twist.
Christian may be a disturbed soul, but he still manages to be a charmer. He could have taken it long before, but a lack of interest kept him away. Now, however, he had every reason in the world to take from Adrina what could only be taken once, and leave her with something that could never be given back. Young girls, so naive. Christian took all he wanted, and then some. He doubted it would take much, regardless. She was so bashful, she took it as a blessing that he insisted he be the one in charge of handling the protection. A few thumbtacks was all it took. That alone fascinated him. Something so small, just a little prick in a paper thin piece of rubber, and her entire life would be scarred soon.
The news came sooner than he expected. Of course, he was no fool. His plan required that he be expected elsewhere at the right time. His sixteenth birthday was approaching, and with that meant he was soon going to reach the cutt-off age to be transferred to Alpha Territory. His father, a military man despite their luxurious Capitol lifestyle, had always had a thinly veiled desire to see his son in uniform. Christian had no doubt that this was still the case, and eagerly opted to be shipped off as soon as possible.
She confronted, just as he expected, in the dead of night. He could instantly hear the fear in her voice. He had no doubt she would have preferred avoiding him, but surely some part of her wanted to see his reaction. He seriously doubted she knew he had long since expected this, been waiting for it, eagerly even. Still, perhaps she would surprise him. Perhaps she would take off the rose colored glasses that blinded her from the real world, and realize just what he had long intended, plotted, and fight him tooth and nail for justice. Just maybe.
He waited on bated breath, putting a considerably amount of his focus toward holding in his smiles. She kissed him first, of course. This was most intriguing, to Christian. He would have thought the idea of touching him would have been tainted at this point, but not so. How strange. His mental note keeping officially began.
"Christi," she said. The affectionate nickname had long ago lost it's charm for either of them. A dead give away. It will take much more than that to ease such palpable tension, silly girl, he thought. A haunting chuckle wafted in his mind, but there it stayed. He stepped forward, taking her in his arms for a moment. "What is it Audri? Something is wrong. Tell me. I hate to see you like this." He could have applauded himself. What a convincing liar he was. "Christian I-I'm . . .expecting."
Ah, there it was. She had cut to the chase; another surprise, a pleasant one. He had her in his arms tightly, stroking her hair as she stammered out the news. Just as she finished, he sighed and hugged her tightly, as if he would never let go.
Still, slowly, letting his hands slide along her smooth skin as he went, Christian stepped back, his eyes instantly taking in every detail of her face, memorizing it. He was certain he would want to study her reactions to this moment far into the future. She was most intriguing, under pressure. Her brows had a twitch to them, almost in rhythm. She fought to hold back the crease they were trying to form, instead giving him a look of honest plea. He could feel her heart willing him to care for her. Poor girl. A heart's wishes were just that, wishes.
He held the warmth in his face, his tone was slow and precise. He had been practicing. He held her softly by the forearms as he looked into her pleading eyes, speaking disturbing words in a comforting tone. "It's ok, love. It's an accident, and accidents happen. It's not your fault. No one is to blame. We'll just have to take care of it, of you." He paused a moment, to watch her face lighten. So assumptive, he thought. He had only spoken a single sentiment, and still he could hear the wedding bells in her mind chiming.
Christian smiled warmly, just a hint of a smile, as if to comfort her more. Still, a smile is silent, and dark words are piercingly loud. "There are more than a few doctors for this sort of thing. It can all be over as quickly as it happened."
His gaze never portrayed a hint of his fascination as he watched her slowly grasp the true meaning of his words. Her face contorted into seven shades of horror, as she slowly slipped her arms from his grasp. So, she had not liked the idea very much. He felt pride in himself well up in his chest. Her hands floated to her chest, holding the place where the knife named Christian now plunged deep into her heart. His mind jotted notes as she spoke, summarizing her every reaction. "Christian! How can you think like that? This is your child!" His brows knit to cast confusion over his face. Logic: the last vestige of sanity the human mind flails to grasp in emotional situations. How intriguing.
His hands went up, as if in plea, incredulous even. "Auds, you can't really expect me to accept this, can you? I have my entire life ahead of me! I'm going into the military. It's been my father's only wish since I was born. How can I just throw that away?" Her hand steadily fell away from her chest, soon resting where he had planted the seed of her pain. "How can you throw away your own flesh and blood? How can you expect me to do it? I won't, Christian. I won't kill our baby."
The unstoppable force that was maternal instinct never ceased to boggle Christian's mind. She had only just learned of the thing (he doubted it even had limbs yet) and still she felt the bond you would expect from someone who had raised it to adulthood through years of love and bonding.
He lowered his gaze, shaking his head at the ground. When his eyes came up to meet hers again, his face was cast with malice, disdain dripping from his tongue with every word. "I don't think you understood me, Audrina. I will not be having a child. If it comes into this world, we're both finished. I won't be having my life decided for me by an infant. We can do this quietly, or I can make noise. If you refuse to see reason, I can simply deny the child. It's your choice, Audrina. But, expect your life in society to be permanently over. As well as your career. Ballet dancers, who are also young mothers, are rarely the first to be chosen for the starring roles. It's your choice, though I hardly see how it's a choice at all. You can be the has been harlot, or carry on as if this whole mess never happened. After all, it's just a few scars."
- - -
Her face was so dark. The circles beneath her eyes had the hue of grapevines (you had to look closely, scrutinize to see past the make up). Such a sad sight, and yet, she had the life she'd dreamed of. The shining star of the biggest ballet in the Capitol. A modest six years later, and Christian was ecstatic to see his handiwork. He watched her every move. So graceful, to poised, and yet he could see the cracks. Only he knew just how broken she was. It was so intriguing to see the spell she cast over the audience, despite her demons. Strong girl.
Christian sat through the entire length of the ballet, watching her. When she was not on stage, he watched her as she waited for her cues. Whenever she was not in his line of sight, he sat and reflected on how she carried herself now. It could be in his head, he thought, but he would settle for that. It was so satisfying. He could watch every move she made and imagine what it must remind her of. The most brilliant was when she was showered with love and flowers by the audience. Ah yes, she is so beautiful, isn't she, he thought. Just to please himself, he thought of millions of bitter thoughts that could have been flitting through her mind - the love of the audience, the love of a husband, the love of a child, the love of a mother. He took great pride in his work against love.
- - -
The last four years had gone by in something of a blur. He had indeed bent sent off to Alpha at first opportunity. Twenty-five years old, and the world was his oyster, his plaything. Correction: everyone else were his playthings. Not long after enlisting he had been assigned to prisoner detail, which quickly led to interrogations. A totalitarian society like Saon had no problems with less than hospitable practices in the dark recesses of the barracks, to get information out of their prisoners.
It hadn't taken long for his eager suggestions for "creative" methods of interrogation to catch the eye of his superiors. There were more than a few operatives looking into his activity for the President. He was aware of this, of course. It amused him greatly to watch them secretly go about trying to get information about him without him noticing. Their methods were always so precise, rehearsed even. No matter, they found only what he wanted them to find. This included, to their astonishment, his secret laboratory.
- - -
He grinned at the astonishment of the operatives. Even over text their shock and horror shone through to the reader. Christian sat - tilting his chair back and staring up at the ceiling - listening to the report being read to him. The two florescent lights in the ceiling cast an eerily white light directly onto the glass topped, wire framed table between himself and the man with the sour glances. Barely enough room to push a drink cart between either edge of the table and the smooth sheet rock of the white walls - the altogether enclosed feeling the space gave him was quite comforting. Rooms like this very one were where some of his greatest fantasies took place. Stark white walls against bright crimson blood. Even now he had to concentrate on his reason for being here: the sour faced fellow reading about his "crimes".
"A vast collection of unauthorized weaponry - no firearms among the lot, in depth and meticulous documentation of disturbing practices. Approximately three months supply of raw narcotics, methamphetamines, and other medical substances." His fingers came up to squeeze the bridge of his nose in frustration as he sighed. His face still aimed at the paper, but his gaze peered over the brims of his glasses to peer at Christian, who now sat at attention, as if this report was the single most interesting thing to ever be printed. "This is irrefutable, Mr. Abes. You do understand that?" Christian nodded., never taking his gaze off of the condemning stack of paper.
A knock on the steel door, at the opposite end of the compact space from Christian, interrupted their lively chat. The face on the other side of the four inches of plexiglass belonged to Christian's father, Haemus Abes. Christian's eyes shot to his father's face with a look of surprise for a split second. He quickly averted his gaze, however. As he sat and stared at the colorless walls, keeping a look of uncomfortable indifference on his features, he watched the coming scene play before his mind. Father takes a seat, excusing Mr. Sourface. I've been bad, I know, but they'll let me off the hook if-, and then it ended. If he . . . what; that was the detail he was missing. He had never feared that he would truly be imprisoned for being too mean to prisoners, but what would they do with him? Exile was the worst possibility, but it still ranked low on the list. Why would the President waste a mind like his?
A gruff clearing of his father's throat told him to pay attention. He returned his father's gaze as they exchanged curt nods. Thankfully, Christian's father had never been a patient man. This would be finished almost as quickly as it began. "I'm not going to pretend I don't know that you expected this. You were always a smart boy, Chris. I'm here to extend you an offer, from the hand of the President himself. I would advise you to accept, of course." Christian's gaze held defiant apathy, but his eyes still twinkled ever so much. Curse his eyes; their uncontrollable ability to work as windows into his mind would be his undoing, he was certain. His father quickly flipped open a thick binder, and thumbed his way to the back pages. He gave his reading glasses almost rhythmic adjustments as he went. "I, General Haemus M. Abes, have been appointed to hereby offer the defending party, Christian J. Abes, a full pardon of all aforementioned 'crimes of inhumanity', in exchange for the party's services in the conducting of future Saon Governement events. These events are including, but not yet limited to, The Hunger Games."
- - -
Christian looked up from his notes to cast an aggravated glance to his personal assistant. "Yes, yes. Whatever they want, Courtana. Just make the guests happy, will you? Delight them, dazzle them, be physically intimate with them. Just see that I'm not disturbed further." She left with a brisk curtsy, and not a word. Had he not wanted her away as quickly as that, he might have made her come back and show proper respect to her superior. No matter, she was not his interest. His work, it consumed him. Genetic mutants, traps, weather systems. So many variables, so many choices. It was his playground, and he could do whatever he wanted with the play pieces - children of the territories.
He had been at this game for five fulfilling years. Every game was just as fascinating as the last. He had quickly fallen in love with his new occupation. Ever so often he missed the up close and personal connection with his victims, but the games offered equal challenges in return to keep his mind active. The only thing he spurned in his new life was the society of it. Parties, Galas, Interviews. It all drained his creativity. The social ladder was so two dimensional, every last aspect. The repetitiveness of it all was the worst of it, but he would manage. He had made an art out of dodging the same tired old discussions, and faces. His love life - if he could even be expected capable of love - was nonexistent, as he had long intended it. There were far more fascinating things in this world than women and children, and he intended to study them, without anyone telling him to come to bed before he pleased.