See part:
Really, Really,
Ridiculously Good Looking
Deep in the woods of the Fictional Character Hunger Games
arena, Helen of Troy walks gracefully along a small, slowly moving stream. It’s mid-afternoon on the second day of the
Games and the sun has just sunk below the tops of the tall trees that run along
the stream. Sunlight flickers through
the branches, catching Helen’s long golden hair, creating a sparkling effect
that gloriously frames her calm countenance.
It had been a relatively uneventful first twenty-four hours
in the arena for Helen. After stepping
elegantly off her pedestal at the sound of the horn, she began to gather food,
blankets and water bottles from the collection of survival items and weapons
surrounding the Cornucopia. She had, of
course, thoughtfully considered her strategic options prior to the Games. Her initial plan, obviously, was to
intoxicate the most fearsome warrior among the Tributes with her beauty and
convince him to protect her. Things became
more complicated, however, the minute Achilles was announced as a Wildcard
Tribute. Here was the ultimate
protector. She had seen him slay mighty
Hector, knew of his tremendous skills on the battlefield…he was the ideal
target. Paradoxically, he was also the worst potential target. What were the chances that a man-slaughtering
war machine would be chosen as a Tribute and,
that that very same warrior would be one of the few men in the history of
fictional characters on whom Helen’s charm may not work! There was too much history between the two
and, besides, Achilles was moody and unpredictable, there was no way to predict
how their past would affect him. In the
end, Helen decided that, rather than find a protector, she would simply avoid
the women in the arena and rely on the fact that, protector or no, no male
tribute could bring himself to hurt her.
Even Achilles, she thought, though he may not protect me, would not be
able to harm a creature so beautiful as I.
She would then be able to simply wait the rest out. So, after gathering supplies and carefully
avoiding attacks from the female tributes, Helen retreated into the woods.
There had been only one moment, near the Cornucopia, when
she had needed to resort to manipulation.
A man with a mustard-yellow shirt and glasses had approached her from
behind, wielding a set of ninja stars.
She was just able to turn around before he sent one flying at her. “Oh, hello,” Helen said with a sophisticated
femininity that made every other woman Dwight Schrute had ever heard speak
sound like a chain-smoking trucker. “Oh,
uh…hello,” Dwight said dumbly, dropping his poised ninja-star-throwing hand and
proceeding to simply stare awkwardly at the angel before him. He stood there for a moment in awe of the
embodiment of physical beauty smiling back at him before she politely said,
“well, I have to go now. Goodbye.” “G’bye” he murmured as she turned and headed
towards the woods. But the rest of the
first day and night were peaceful for Helen.
And now, after a good night’s rest, she’s wandering along the water,
pondering how best to catch a fish.
Further down the stream, Katniss is hunting. She hasn’t seen anyone since that bizarre
encounter with the Hamburglar. She
treads quietly along the edge of the stream, eyes and ears waiting for any sign
of an animal coming to drink. Suddenly,
she hears noise from the woods next to her.
Whipping around, she immediately has an arrow trained directly at the
head of…a man. Who is this? Katniss thinks.
She doesn’t recognize him. He
emerges from the woods as Katniss remains still, her arrow still directed for a
kill shot. He stops just where the
vegetation clears, twenty feet from her.
He’s wearing a suit?! He’s wearing a suit in the arena!?
Katniss thinks to herself, dumbfounded, but a small voice inside her heard
pipes up, and he’s pulling it off! It was true; the man didn’t look unnatural in
a full, three-piece suit. In fact, it
would almost seem more bizarre were not so immaculately dressed. “Hey Katniss,”
says the man, in a voice more soulful than anything Katniss had ever
heard. “Who are you?” Katniss calls back aggressively. “You know what I like about you, Katniss?”
the man continues, now moving slowly but casually toward her, “it’s not that
you’re smart, even though were too clever for the Capitol.” He doesn’t take his eyes off her as he moves
closer, his gait relaxed, confident but measured. “And it’s not that you’re kind, even though
you take care of you’re family back home.”
He’s now five feet from her.
Katniss still has the bow pulled taut but she finds herself more focused
on the man’s dark eyes and the trace of a grin he wears as he speaks. “And it’s not that, even in the arena, in the
woods, without a mirror in sight, you’re still…beautiful,” Katniss blushes
noticeably but he continues, moving closer and closer still. “What I like about you is that you’re
strong. You don’t let anyone change
you…not that I see any reason they should want to.” Like awaking from a dream, Katniss realizes
the man is a mere foot from her, she tries to shake herself back to complete
sobriety but he stares down at her and she’s mesmerized. “I’m Stefan Urquelle. So what do you say, girl, you wanna team up
with me?” Katniss feels herself nodding,
unaware that her bow has fallen to her side.
She feels drugged and can only focus on Stefan’s proximity and intense
gaze. Within minutes they are walking,
silently, alongside the stream, her hand in the crook of his arm, any thought
of Peeta or Gale replaced by a dreamy voice inside her head saying over and
over again, “Katniss Urquelle, Katniss Urquelle...”
After meandering along the water blissfully, Katniss is
suddenly propelled back into reality as the couple come upon another tribute, a
woman, a hundred yards ahead.
Immediately, Katniss has released Stefan’s arm and is looking down the
shaft of an arrow aimed at the woman ahead.
“No,” says Stefan gently but urgently as he puts his hand on her arm,
beckoning her to lower the weapon, “I’ll take care of this.” Without questioning, Katniss obeys. Stefan acknowledges the acquiescence, softly
tucking her hair behind her ear before he begins to walk toward the woman. Time to
go to work, Stefan thinks to himself as he begins to exaggerate his
rhythmic strut. Like the Pied Piper, he’ll
play his tune (it would, of course, be a slow jam) and they’ll follow
blindly. This is how he’ll escape the
Arena. He’ll soon have an army of
adoring female tributes ready to fight for him.
The woman he’s approaching has not taken notice of Katniss or Stefan yet
and is facing the other direction. This girl might be cute, thinks Stefan, she looks pretty good from here. I wonder if it’s that Helen girl, I never got
a good look at her before the games but everyone seemed to be talking about
her, might have to pull out the big guns…
As Stefan approaches, Helen readies herself. She heard his footsteps several seconds ago,
recognizing the heavy treading as that of a man. On
three, she thinks as she prepares herself to stun her stalker. One,
two, three… Helen turns around quickly, her golden hair whipping through
the air, seemingly in slow motion, and she gives her best doe-eyed look to the
man now she now faces.
Though silent, a small shock-wave races out in all
directions from what appears to be it’s epicenter…the pair of perfect physical
specimen looking each other directly in the eye. Twenty feet away Katniss is nearly knocked to
her feet. Regaining her balance, she can
only watch the scene in front of her, awestruck, her mind trying in vain to
grasp the nature of the powerful forces at work. It’s a seduction stalemate! An immovable object of hotness has finally
met an unstoppable force of suave!
Both Stefan and Helen recoil slightly at first, each
momentarily stunned by the physical beauty of the other, simultaneously
recognizing their counterpart in the eyes looking back at them. But quickly, like the wooers they were
created to be, they are back to the task at hand. Helen bats her eyes, her long eyelashes
fluttering. Stefan squints his eyes at
Helen, nods his head slowly and bites his bottom lip. It’s like two prize fighters, both at the top
of their game, meeting center-ring…and the bell has rung. They begin circling each other, ten feet
apart. Stefan takes off his suit jacket
and loosens his tie, Helen responds by removing the coat she found at the
Cornucopia, now wearing only a toga.
Anticipating each other’s next move, both begin speaking at exactly the
same time. “Hey, girl. I’m Stefan” Stefan says, pouring into each
syllable as much swag as it can hold.
But it can barely be heard over Helen’s melodic, smiling, “I’m Helen,
Helen of Troy.” Both slightly stunned by
the traded punches, they stop circling and begin moving towards each other,
slowly. Now inches apart, Stefan makes
the first move, reaching out and sweeping Helen’s golden bangs away from her
forehead. The stakes have been
raised. Helen counters, looking shyly at
the ground then grinning up at Stefan, making her eyes as large as possible,
opening and closing her eyelids slowly.
Stefan winces slightly and Helen smells blood. Still smiling up at him, she goes to put her
hand on his arm but before she can get there Stefan makes an inspired
move. “I’ve been really tryiiiiiinnggg, baby… tryin’ to hold back this feeeeeling,
for sooooo loooong…” he begins to sing in a soft, smoky voice. Helen, coming from a world of romantic
lute-playing and harp-strumming, unacquainted with the lyrical and melodic
potency of Marvin Gaye, is unprepared for this.
She begins to swoon.
Got her! Stefan
thinks, just now reaching the chorus, time
to go for the gusto… this ends now.
Simultaneously, Helen is fighting to stay alive but fading fast. This
battle will not be won by mere posturing, she thinks to herself, the man’s siren call has weakened me; there
is now only one course of action. No man
has kissed the lips of Helen of Troy
and failed to fall deeply in love… And quickly both go in for the kill shot
at the same time.
Katniss wakes up, groggy and in pain. Her whole body feels bruised and she can’t
remember where she is. She’s lying next
to the stream and as she examines her surroundings she begins to remember. She was watching, dumbfounded, as Helen and
Stefan were embroiled in an epic battle of woo worthy of Homer himself. When,
suddenly, just as their lips met, a blinding light rushed out and Katniss was
knocked off her feet, the concussion of what seemed like a bomb detonating
throwing her through the air. Slowly,
now, she moves over to where Helen and Stefan had been. There is no one in sight. She looks around at the soil near the stream
where they had stood. There’s a large
black burn mark in a circular shape. Could they have just combusted? Katniss
asks herself, feeling foolish once the question formulates fully in her
mind. She stands there, still shocked. Maybe
the powers of attraction at work were simply too much, too near each
other? Like two potent chemicals that
should never be mixed. She had
already seen a man simply disappear into thin air, could it be, now, that two
people had been incinerated in an explosion that came as a result of heretofore
unseen levels of attractiveness and seduction being directed at each
other? This is a weird Hunger Games, Katniss thinks to herself…
ELIMINATED FROM THE COMPETITION: HELEN OF TROY AND STEVE URKEL/STEFAN URQUELLE
2) Dalton - 10/1
3) Katniss
- 20/1
5) Dwight
Schrute - 35/1
6) Nic
Cage - 40/1
8) Kate
Austen– 60/1
9) Kevin
McCallister – 75/1
16) Lennie –
120/1
18) Charlie
Kelly – 250/1
24) Boo Radley
- ?
