Bickle "Billy" Livius

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Canon history.
(link to wikipedia)

AU history.
Billy was raised as a Career. Competing in the Hunger Games was his dream, his purpose, and he didn't even care if he won. Although not physically strong, he acquired skills in numerous long-distance weapons such as the crossbow and throwing knives. However, his victory didn't lie in his weapon skills -- he excelled at trickery, using his comparatively young age to lure the more sympathetic tributes towards the Career pack. In the end, he turned on his fellow Careers and set their camp on fire while they slept. He shot the ones who didn't die in the flames with a crossbow. While they died, Billy gave a speech to the camera in which he explained that he could no longer tolerate the sadistic nature of his allies and that he needed to "set things right." He made a superficial, false attempt to kill himself out of a supposed guilt for helping them (it's all about the sympathy, the show) but survived easily. He shot the final tribute (a girl from 7) as she approached his wounded form.

Billy, the cheerful and smiling son of a Brickmason, won the 44th Hunger Games when he was only thirteen years old -- and he's been effectively thirteen years old ever since. Some victors snap. Some turn to alcohol. Billy, however, seemingly remained in a state of arrested development, forever impulsive and needy and immature. His social boundaries crumbled. His grasp of the world leaned more towards the simple black and white view of a child than anything resembling nuance or reality.

MARTY: How are you ever gonna get a job, Billy, if you break the director guy's nose before you even get the part?
BILLY: I didn't mean to break his nose. His nose was just in the middle of where I was punching.

As a mentor, he is prone to overdramatics and ignoring rules. Although he is not a member of the rebellion, he is rebellious by his very nature. He disregards protocols, he micro-manages tributes and judges and gamemakers. He tells off the other mentors. He scoffs at his superiors. In his off time, he steals pets, sleeps with women, and collects cutesy ceramic dolls. He is very much a loose cannon, but he is also very much in favor of the games. He watches with the glee and excitement usually reserved for a Capitol citizen.

boyish. He is energetic, bouncing, and nearly always smiling. He is playful. He chats with himself in the mirror, and he makes up silly voices for animals. He normally hides his mistakes with all the grace of a child hiding a broken vase under a rug. Yet like an actual child, he's hardly all sweetness and innocence. He at times mocks others like a playground bully ("you gonna cry??). He whines, he rolls his eyes, he blurts out remarks with little regard of how the people around him will take them. He strives to impress the people he wishes to impress and thoughtlessly casts others to the side.

deceptive. He lies when it's easier than telling the truth -- and then admits that he lied the moment he's called on it. He goes behind backs without a second thought. He always asks for forgiveness instead of permission.

MARTY: Billy, you kill women!
BILLY: I killed a woman. Take it easy.
MARTY: You shot her in the stomach, Billy.
BILLY: Well that's better than the head, ain't it?

violent. He is unable to separate reality from movies and television. Life is an action sequence filled with heroes and villains and improbably large explosions. It's a game that he loves playing. In a similar vein, he sees most of these people in his life as characters, cannon fodder and big bads and tragic heroes -- and this includes himself. It is difficult to tell if he is a sociopath or just deeply selfish, but either way, the reality of his life is buried in delusions of grandeur and he does little to hide it.

violent 2.0.
He is hardly cool and calculating, but his childish and impulsive nature acts as a smoke screen that sometimes masks his more dangerous lies. He makes it clear that he believes life should be dramatic and exciting, but there's no clear anger boiling under his skin that suggests he could kill ... even though he does. Even when his violence does go to extremes, he treats it like no big deal. He is a boy playing cops and robbers with real guns. Not only is he desensitized to violence committed by others, but he's desensitized to his own horrific acts.

MARTY: Billy's a psychopath, Hans.
HANS: I guess he's made it into your movie now.

acceptance.
Yet despite his violence, he sees himself as a hero and he wants, desperately, for other people to see him the same way. Once he decides that he likes someone, he bends himself to their approval. He yells at people when they yell at people. He echoes their words. When these people are hurt, he does not brush them off like meaningless side characters -- he feels guilt, sorrow, hurt, and sometimes even regret. Even though he tries to build the world up as an action movie, reality still stings him now and again. However, it is never enough for him to repent. He uses his own lies to bandage wounds.

[The feed opens on Billy -- forty-something, flecks of grey in his otherwise brown hair -- holding up a taxidermed squirrel.]

Hhhhhhhhappy Hunger Games, everyone!

[The squirrel is dressed up in Capitol garb. An ice blue suit, a garish bowtie. Billy shakes the squirrel as he talks in a high-pitched, grating voice. This appears to be an amateur attempt at ventriloquy.]

Iiiiii was once a respected escort, but the Capitol's security system failed and nooooow one of you maaagic types has turned me into a squirrel!

[Billy turns towards the squirrel, then turns towards the camera. He speaks with his real voice.]

Well, gee there, little buddy. I'm sorry to hear it. That sucks ass.

[He shakes the squirrel, raising his voice once more.]

Iiiiii knoooow! Gosh, I'm just soooo uuupset that I thiiiink I'm going to start driiiinking!

[He walks the squirrel down the table in front of him towards an upright bottle of vodka. With some effort, he tilts the bottle so that the opening is level with the squirrel's mouth.]

Oh no man, I don't know if that's such a good idea. I'm pretty sure squirrel's have, like, way less tolerance than people. [He raises his pitch once more.] Nooooonseeeense! Glub, glub, glub!

[In his enthusiasm, he tilts the bottle too far and the vodka spills out all over the table, all over his hand, all over the squirrel. He hurriedly tosses the squirrel aside as he straightens the bottle.]

All right, guys, show's over, Squirrely's dead. Anyway, I'm betting most of you don't know who I am, being that you're all, like, weird and otherworldly and probably don't study the good parts of history, but you can call me Billy, all right, and I beat this shit like --

[Pause. He starts to count on his fingers, realizes that it'll take too much time, and gives up.]

-- fucking ages ago. And I'd apologize for the language, but I mean, come on, you guys are like killing each other in three days! And good luck with that, wooooowwwweee. Here's hoping you all do better than ol' Squirrely here. One of you has got to, right?

When the Peacekeepers came to his suite and grabbed both his arms, Billy thought about dragging his feet on the ground, making things really reeeeally difficult for them, but he rejected the idea in the interest of not losing consciousness. Instead, as they pulled him forward out of his bedroom and into the halls, Billy kept up a continous string of speech, muttering out dozens of 'hey wait!'s and 'gentle!'s and 'easy on the shoulders!'s, twisting his head around in an attempt to better understand the situation. All he knew was that he was sleeping, he was awake, the Peacekeepers had him. This was exactly the worst way to fight off a hangover.

He recognized the judging area from his dreams and nightmares (but mostly his dreams) and let himself be deposited in the middle of it. Once the Peacekeepers released him, he dusted off his pajamas. He straightened out the sleeves.

(His pajamas were blue and white prints of tiny otters, rolling with beach balls, eating fish, twirling through the air.)

"Well, well, well," he said, cracking a smile. "Guess you guys need good ol' Billy to show the otherworldly freaks how it's all done."

Was he going to a tribute again? Was this going to be the best morning ever? He rubbed his palms together, his mouth frozen in a smile.

"I'm tellin' ya," he said, turning away from the judges and scooping up a knife. He twirled it in his fingers, then tossed it up and caught it once, twice, again. "All you need to do is watch the old tapes and imagine someone ten times more badass than a thirteen year old doing all those same things. And winning. Please. I can handle a little convoy of aliens."

He tossed the knife, planting it firmly in a dummy's forehead. He had been practicing. He was always practicing, waiting for this exact day.

-- Or something like this exact day.

When he was a tribute, he probably earned an acceptable 8. He was a Career, so he was trained, but he was also small in stature and unflinchingly obnoxious.

Past victor AU: Billy is from District 2, and has generally positive feelings about it. He adores the focus on weaponry and military, as well as the pro-violent culture surrounding the careers. That being said, he has no friends in District 2 (he is not exactly great at making friends) and he barely gives his family a passing glance. He is currently Pro-Capitol, but if joining the rebellion would give him the right amount of heroic glory, he'd flip in an instant ... just as he did on his Career allies.