Caspian Firth

## Bio

*Caspian Firth (he/him). District Four Tribute. 23. Timothee Chalamet*.

Some believe that at the center of everyone is goodness, and that the world builds shells around that goodness, layers upon layers that cover up that goodness until it can’t be seen nor acted upon.

Others believe that this is bullshit.

Caspian Firth paid his way into the District Four Career Academy. His parents were fishermen, as was everyone in the town he grew up in, a small one not far from the District’s center. He grew up reeling in nets, born with sea legs. He’d swim for hours, disappearing into the waves and testing his stamina, pushing as far as he could go until he feared he might drown, and then saving himself. Again, again. Drawing himself to the edge of death and pulling himself back like waves kissing the shore before leaving again.

When he was twelve, he started saving money and working odd jobs until he had enough to pay for a semester at the Academy. Once there, he convinced the headmaster to allow him to work for half-off tuition, so after everyone else had gone to bed, he worked alongside the janitors, cooks, and housekeepers, scrubbing down the equipment, preparing breakfast, taking out the trash. He took odd jobs in town as well to keep up with the payments, sleeping three, maybe four hours per night. All of it was done with a purpose: to be part of the Hunger Games, the most glorious sporting event the world had ever seen. The stakes were high, the emotions higher. He loved it, looked forward to watching it every year. He wanted nothing more than to be a part of it, to master it and win it. To show that he could. It didn’t come from a desire to rise above his station; he truly didn’t care that he’d been born lower class. It didn’t come from a desire to prove anyone wrong about him; in fact, as he was one of nine siblings, no one really cared what he did. People didn’t underestimate or overestimate him: they simply failed to estimate at all.

No, he wanted to participate in the Games out of a pure desire to be part of them. Simply put: it looked like fun. He was well aware that he could die in the process, but that was what would make it so exhilarating. He’d played these kinds of dying-games since he was a child, after all, with the waves as his competitors, the pull of the ocean calling to him.

He took advantage of his unique position to learn more about the other students, his competition. He looked through their trash, searching for information, weaknesses, connections he could exploit. On the morning of a big tournament between students to determine the top of the class, he poured liquor into the pancake batter, and easily won against his drunken competition. He found out that a girl who always beat him in the simulators had a crush on another boy in their level; he left her flowers and a note supposedly from the boy, asked her to meet him outside at midnight. He watched from an upper window as she waited for two hours while the boy didn’t show, and then spread a rumor the next day that she’d been stood up. She became a laughing stock, front and center to the cruelty of the Academy students, and she dropped out the day after.

He learned the ins and outs of the machinery in the training center and in the night, when no one was around and he was there on the pretense of cleaning, he’d rig the machines for the next day, switching around the ‘hard’ and ‘easy’ settings or re-programming the holograms to his own advantage. It wasn’t hard, when you watched the trainers reset them each day by tapping the upper right of the screen and entering their administrators’ code. You just had to pay attention. It was all about paying attention.

All of this wasn’t because he wasn’t good at fighting and weaponry; he was. The problem was that he was scrawny, and his best asset was his brain, as well as his ruthlessness. He truly didn’t give a fuck about harming his competition, nor did he care about making friends. Everyone else was a piece of his puzzle, and he used them accordingly, befriending some and shunning others strategically. Everything in his life tilted towards the Games.

Rio and Carol’s recent victories have inspired him, and he’s sure that a third victory in the span of only a few years will bring Four into the territory of One and Two, so that everyone will know how strong Four is, and that they are not to be underestimated. He competed brutally (and cheated sporadically) in all of the tournaments that determined who would volunteer for 133, and he won.

Now? It’s showtime.

+: headstrong, determined, clever

-: selfish, uncaring, cold

*PENNED BY: VIRGINIA*