"Hey, Marcus! Is that piece on District 4's depleted fish stocks finished?" Asked one of my co-workers.
"Yeah, I put it…somewhere…" I tore through the piles of paperwork and newspapers on my desk. I found the data disk underneath a file about a popular film star. I kicked back my office chair and rolled towards my co-worker. "Here it is." I said as I handed it to him.
"Great," He said. He took a step away, but stopped himself and turned back around. "Say, you're going to the archive tomorrow, right?"
"You know it! Me and some of the guys are going to camp out to get the good stuff first." I replied. Tomorrow, the government would be declassifying the first batch of documents and records pertaining to the revolution. It had been little over twenty years since the war ended, and the conflict had been shrouded in mystery ever since. As a reporter working for one of the Capitols news networks, I was one of many who were eager to air stories about the heroes who won our freedom. My network, East Panem Broadcasting, had a slight advantage having me employed. I was known to be a workaholic doing both writing, research, and video editing. More importantly, I maintained a string of contacts across the country, including some military members. Every now and then, one of my military contacts would leak just a tiny bit of info to me, the EPB would make a story, and before long it became public rumor.
"Seriously?" my co-worker said, a perplexed look on his face.
"Think about what could be in there! Casualties counts, the names of war heroes, all kinds of details about our early democratic government-"
"Don't you have a story to write?" he interrupted.
"I got time." I rolled my chair back to my desk. I returned to writing an article about tips on making an apartment look bigger. Horribly boring, but I guess enough people like this for it to be deemed worthy of broadcasting. I reached a stopping point at around 6 pm. I returned to my apartment, out of curiosity, I tried one of the tips, didn't do much. After having a bite to eat, I picked up my folding chair and put on a coat, making sure my ID badge was still visible. I walked down the busy capitol streets towards the archive building. A huge white quartz building with beautiful stained glass windows, each window had the seal of a district, there were 13 in total. Already a small group of people were sitting on folding chairs outside. Journalist ID's hanging around their necks.
"Marcus! Marcus Fidelis!" A voice called out. It was my friend, Adam Crix. I greeted him as a set up my chair adjacent to his. "Do you have the time? I forgot my watch. I remembered the wine though!" He said, holding up a bottle of wine.
I checked my watch, 10:37 pm, the vault was to open at midnight. We talked and sipped some wine to pass the time. Everyone suddenly stood up, I looked over to see a soldier walking towards the archive steps, an administrative stripe running down his sleeves.
"Easy people, its only 11:02," he said. "I'll unlock it at midnight." He marched up the steps and disappeared inside. I could practically see the vibes of excitement radiating off of the people camped out front. I could hardly contain myself either. For twenty years, vague facts and few details were all that emerged about the war. No one was quite sure why, but maybe we would find out.
"You do realize these are only partial records right?" Adam said, finishing off the last bit of wine.
"I know, I hear there are six vaults in total, and they will open one every twenty years." I replied. For whatever reason, the President Paylor administration had promised to open one every twenty years, possibly for security reasons. The current President Constantine upheld the policy as well. There could be all kinds of dark secrets, and they wanted to wait until the generation that witnessed the war to die off before those records got out. I was only a child, during the war, I was too young to remember much. I remember my mother and father taking care of me inside our bombed out house, I remember when an injured and bleeding rebel soldier came crawling into our home. My mother and father saved that man's life even though, at the time, they were our enemy.
Finally the clock struck twelve, and a security guard motioned us up the steps. We entered into the main hall with its spacious glass ceiling, the stars from the night sky shimmering through. Shelves of books lined the walls and twisted around corners seemingly endlessly. A few display case held artifacts of varying historical significance. And a large marble statue of a scholar writing on his desk sat in the center. The archive staff motioned us into a freight elevator and took us down to the basement. We exited into an un-impressive hallway, cement floor, cement walls, it wasn't meant to look pretty. We went down and reached our destination. Vault No. 130-A, holding records of the civil war. The soldier from before was sitting at a desk nearby, his red administrative stripe reflecting the harsh white lights of the basement.
"Try not to spill anything on them." He said in a bored tone as he got up and opened the thick steel door for us. We poured in, the inside of the vault contained 3 sets of shelves, stretching back a good 30 feet, and numerous filing cabinets. We began pushing past each other, carefully reading labels and opening files, searching for the thing that would dance across the headlines. There was a lot here, I was prepared to spend hours. I found an article about peacekeeper casualties in District 3, Autopsy of President Alma Coin after her heart attack the same night Corilanus Snow was executed by firing squad. Only half an hour in, something caught my eye. In the back corner, a grey metal crate, a military ID stamp consisting of numbers was taped on the side. Just above that, a scratched out seal of old Panem. I looked it over, and tried to open it. The case was locked tight.
"Excuse me," I asked one of the clerks, "do you have a key for this one?" I pointed to the case.
She responded with a perplexed look "That's weird," she replied. "I don't see a key number on it, I don't think we have a key for it."
"Well if I took it, can I try to break it open myself?" I asked, I was adamant, something about this crate seemed special.
"You're certainly welcome to try." She said.
I picked up the case and brought it to the soldier at the desk, I was the first one to leave. The others were still looking through the cabinets. The soldier looked it over, "There is no checkout code on this one!" he said to one of the clerks. The clerk came by, peering at the markings through his thick glasses.
"Just write down the military ID and a description." He said.
They soldier wrote it down in a ledger along with my contact information, and I set out. I returned to my apartment, set it on the dining table and went to bed. I spent the following morning hopelessly trying to force the case open, fortunately I had given myself the day off. I took a trip to the library and found a guide to lock picking. After several attempts, the case opened with a satisfying click. The hinges squeaked as I pulled the lid back.
Inside was a stack of folders with military time stamps. I picked up the first one, set it on the table and proceeded to open it. It was a medical record, a photograph was paper clipped to it. The photograph was that of a young woman with straight black hair twisted into a braid, olive skin, and gray eyes. I pulled off the picture and set it to the side, the record was heavily censored. Likely an uncensored copy lay in one of the other vaults. Name, blacked out. Height, blacked out, etc. A district 13 seal was present in the corner, perhaps these were rebel enlistment documents. I pulled out the next folder, it was far thicker than the previous one. I opened it a packet of papers stapled together. I took a look at the first page, I noticed less censorship than the medical record. A few blacked out bits here and there, but one word had been blacked out, then red text spelling "MOCKINGJAY" printed over it. Two words were blacked out later in the document with "GIRL ON FIRE" printed in red. Likely the censored words were a name, the "girl on fire" words were likely the first and last name. I was intrigued and decided to give it a read. After the first paragraph I was hooked, these were definitely not enlistment documents.
"[MOCKINGJAY] has strong and independent survivalist instincts due to her difficult past and is good at thinking outside the box. She is not socially adept and has a hard time making friends due to the emotional strain on her life which has made her hard and cold."
I continued through, this "mockingjay" grew up in District twelve, judging by appearance, I assume she lived at the Seam, likely a poor family. Names of any family or friends were blacked out. She was a skilled archer, and had a sister, although the name of the sister had been blacked out too. I couldn't help but smile as I read through. For twenty years the story of this woman had sat locked in this case, only now being viewed by someone. My smile dropped suddenly, when I came across something unexpected. A heavily censored line that read:
"Volunteer tribute from district twelve, 74th [Censored] Hunger Games. Notable for alliance with district 11 tribute [NAME REDACTED], refer to video file C-22. As a member of the final two, she and [NAME REDACTED] made a decision [Censored] in the end, GIRL ON FIRE was named [censored] victor of the 74th Hunger Games."
I immediately set the file down, that wasn't right, it couldn't be right. I ran to my bookshelf and began shifting through the various encyclopedias and science books. I found the one I was looking for, a large white book with various weapons on the cover. "Kill or Be Killed: The Hunger Games." was the title, I paged through rapidly. Passing by chapters on arena designs, mutt use, and game maker techniques. I reached the tributes chapter. The 1st annual Hunger Games, 24 tributes, only 4 named in the book, the others had "unknown district # tribute." in place of their name. The capitol lost a lot of records due to the civil war. As I paged through, the missing names began to become fewer. By the 47th games, all tributes were named. Then I reached the 74th games. Victor, Peeta Mellark of District 12. I looked back to the document, according to this document "GIRL ON FIRE" had been the victor. Was the book wrong? I looked through the tributes, Cato Stratton, Rue Hastus etc. finally, Peeta Mellark, as the male tribute for district 12. The female tribute, "Unknown district 12 tribute." A picture of Peeta Mellark was there as well, receiving a victors crown from President Snow.
Who was this woman? This "girl on fire." why was her name missing from public records? I was hooked, firmly believing that I had made the right choice with this crate. I paged through the other folders. She was present at the battle for district 8 and district 2. Apparently some kind of poster-girl for the rebellion. She apparently took part in the battle itself, armed with a bow and arrow, a sort of iconic weapon given her skills as an archer. A file contained a detailed account of her exploits in the 74th hunger games. But the document became heavily censored midway through. What were they trying to hide? Was it her association with the censored tribute? At the bottom of the case, was a small black box containing a dozen data disks. I found the one labeled C-22 and popped it into my computer.
It was a silent video excerpt from the 74th Hunger Games, one I had never seen before. A young girl from district 11, had been caught in a net, camerawork revealed a district 1 tribute hiding in the brush. Out of the trees, the girl referred to as "Mockingjay" appeared, I identified her thanks to the photograph included with her censored medical record. The district 1 tribute flung his spear towards the trapped girl, spearing her in the torso. This act soon earned him an arrow in the neck, courtesy of Mockingjay. Mockingjay then cut the girl down, they were talking to each other, on the verge of tears, but the video had no audio. The little district 11 girl passed away. Mockingjay cried, she seemed to sing to her, and then arranged flowers around her corpse. She walked away, and the video file ended.
I picked up the phone and called Adam, likely still at the archives. "Hello?" he answered.
"It's Marcus, are you still at the archives?" I asked.
"Yeah, why? Do you need something?"
"See if you can find an official text record for the 74th Hunger Games, bring it by my place."
"I'll see what I can do." He said.
I thanked him and hung up. I returned to the files in front of me, I wanted to find out who this woman was, dig up everything I could. She was a legend, struck from history. Near the bottom I finally struck gold. A disciplinary transcript from District 12, signed under the name "Romulus Thread". The record contained a detailed description of the capture, confession and punishment of a "Gale Hawthorn" for poaching. The record states,
"Upon the 20th lash of the whip, the spectacle was interrupted when peacekeeper Darius Cooper grabbed Captain Thread by the arm, Cooper was then knocked unconscious. As the spectacle continued, none other than [GIRL ON FIRE] intervened and was struck by the whip across the face."
This record had given me the names of three people who possibly knew this woman's real identity. I made it a point to call my friends at the civil census bureau and outer district contacts to see if I could find these people, if they were still alive. I recognized one of the names though, Gale Hawthorn, where had I heard that before? I remembered, he was a senator, until his term was up and was replaced by Gaius Gault. I could probably search for him in the political records.
Hours later, my phone rang. It was Adam, he had found what I wanted. He delivered a large binder labeled "74th Hunger Games. I paged through, everything was here, names, cause of death, significant events. But, the name of the district 12 female tribute had been censored. Along with several lines pertaining to her exploits at the very end. With this record, I gathered that the district 11 girl from the video was Rue Hastus. The last paragraphs pertaining to the victor were heavily censored and altered. This document supported the fact that Peeta Mellark was the victor, but if that was true, why did Mockingjay's classified documents say otherwise? I made several calls to my outer district contacts, who pledged to help anyway they could.
I decided to pursue the history of the civil war through this woman, I was certain I would find something. Could it be hidden truths about the war? Or just an exaggerated battlefield legend? I was never able to meet the woman herself. In fact, it's questionable if she even did exist. But thanks to my contacts, I got a hit, and found several individuals who knew her. I decided to interview these people. And soon learned that my pursuit of this "Mockingjay" would not be a mistake.