Name: Faust Vypren
Age: 25
Sex: Male
Family: Just his parents.
District: 2
Strength: Close-quarters combat, navigating rough terrain and weapon proficiency.
Weakness: Survival skills, mostly. He's also been a bit of a chain-smoker after winning his Games, leading to him being unable to run for long distances.
Weapon of choice: A mace or throwing spears, if possible. Otherwise, he can wield any weapon to a decent degree.
Bio/Background: Faust grew up in one of the poorer parts of District 2. His family had never been all that well off, both his parents had their minimum wage jobs at the quarries. They didn't have enough to afford any luxuries, but they never starved. It stayed that way until Faust turned seven, when his school offered him a chance to join the Program -- the very Program that trained kids to become Career tributes. "Offered" had been the word they used, but refusing meant expulsion from school. And that meant Mom would have to stay home with him all day and that meant less money and that meant less food. The Program did have it's benefits however, as Faust learnt that there'd be a stipend; that Mom and Dad would get money every year he stayed in it. To Faust, that was more than enough reason for him to do it. Finally, he'd be able to contribute.
The Centre didn't make him fight, at first. It was just a glorified athletics program. Games, lots of running fast and climbing things and throwing things, and they played at running around in the woods and throwing balls at each other and that's not so bad. Nothing to be scared about. Until the afternoon that one of the bigger girls knocked Faust away from the rope he was climbing, and when he said that it was his, she told him to make her give it back if he wanted it so bad. He was just about to when he remembered Dad's warning about not hitting girls, and so, Faust let her. One of the trainers made a disappointed 'tch' sound and told him maybe he shouldn't be here after all if he couldn't be the least bit competitive. It burnt under his skin all day. And by the time he turned twelve, the Centre had fanned his anger into something else entirely. Faust broke all of Dad's rules on a daily basis. In Dad's absence, he made new ones, sure that Dad would agree. Real men don't hit girls, unless they're bigger, unless they start it, unless it's just for fun -- those were Dad's rules. To those, Faust added a few more: unless she has a weapon; unless she's going to hurt him; unless the trainers are watching; unless it's a competition.
Those were the rules that propelled him straight through the rest of training. They held him through his field test, the endurance tests, the four kill tests until he stood up on the stage and promised his every breath and heartbeat to his district, the Capitol, and Panem. That morning, two people come to see him in the Justice Building, and they matched the faces in his memory except that they're older, and smaller, and they looked at Faust like they're afraid of him. And that settled it, they've all made the right choice. Faust was never a good little boy and he'd found the path that would use him as he's meant to be.
Nothing prepared him for the Arena, for the pain and the screams and the horror, but it was all worth it when he made it out, soaked in blood and grinning like a madman. He didn't think anything of it until after his Victory Tour. Faust knew his duty, knew what he has to do to get recognition and cachet, and nobody had to put a gun to his head to do it. The Games never really ended, and especially not for the attractive ones. Everyone wanted to touch him, he was a Victor now and that meant they could. They all wanted a taste of the merchandise before they committed to buying. Now, Faust methodically fucks his way through the reams of Capitol elites who want to get with a Victor, focusing less on the giggling heiresses who touch his biceps and tell him he's so strong and more on the men and women with money, power and the urge to use it. After all, it's all just business.
Token: A small, smooth stone of agate, given to him by his father when he was about seven, a while before he began his training.
Year won: 68th Hunger Games
