TRIBUTE X

Disclaimer: I am not Suzanne Collins, nor do I intend to steal her work. The Hunger Games, and several obvious characters belong to her.

Author's Note: This is in third person. Different perspectives will be written. It shall be indicated when. Ideas of the arena, Hunger Games Rule Change and various characters belong to me; Names and identities of several tributes belong to the members of the Hunger Games RPG.

DAY 1 SUBSEQUENT to 99th HUNGER GAMES, 2036 hours: RITALION
Through the dimly lit halls, the footman , Yaxley, rushed with the information chip at hand. His gray eyes reflected what light there was left coming in from the outside, which was very little. The windows had been tinted years ago to prevent any prying, spying eyes. His shoes tapped on the tile floor, rising into the air as a quick, wary rhythm. He swiped the sweat from his brow, he had been running around all day for the King. It is only your duty to bring the information to His Highness, nothing more. You shall not care where he is or how long you remain there. he tried to comfortably remind himself. But everything was not that simple.

Coming to the fourth door on the left, he turned routinely and knocked without hesitation. From behind the door, piercing the silence came a dark voice, edited slightly by the communication system that came through the door. "Friend or foe?" Yaxley straightened a little; it was considered improper to not be in an upright stance. "Yaxley, Your Honour." A few more seconds crawled by.

"Proceed."

The metal door slid open in less than a second flat. The footman had never quite gotten used to it. But nevertheless, he entered without further hesitation. The door opened to a large, circular room with a long desk running all around it, and various large monitors. Before him sat a large chair, with a tall back, sure to cover the head of whoever dared rested there. It was a grand chair no doubt, passed on for generations through the royal family of Ritalion, but what a looming, fearful resting it had been. Yaxley never questioned it, nor feared it. He had no need to. He knew so little about it. "The Hunger Games files are complete, Your Highness."

Between two fingers he held a microelectronic chip, no larger than a quarter. Stepping to the King's side, he laid it gently on the desk in front of him. The door behind him snapped shut. He dared not look into his eyes, it was a rule. A dark shadow was cast over his face, and the lighting in the room and been designed specifically that way for that one reason.

"Excellent." he replied stoically. "If you will, Yaxley..." A slender, gloved hand gestured towards a small slit in the wall, just large enough for the chip to fit. Yaxley did as he was told, and pushed the chip into the slit. Immediately, hundreds of live footage, pictures and coded numbers flashed onto the screens, drifting in all different directions at a readable pace.

Drawing back his hand into the shadow, the King spoke again. Wherever his eyes were in there, was where they scanned all the information. "Enlarge Monitor 1, Yaxley." he commanded calmly.

Without reply, the footman did so. After pressing a pattern of buttons and keys, the first screen was enlarged and enhanced to full view. In the surround speakers, a full, loud applause was just ending. In the video itself sat two people seated on a stage that seemed to be prepared for some interview or news report. One was a youthful man, with lush, dark brown hair that curved upwards away from his face. The tips had been dyed orange and red, taking resemblance to a flame. A moving image had been made onto his suit, glittering the same color as the ends of his hair.

"Such peculiar styles they take up in Panem, don't you think?"
"Yes, Your Honour."

Then the speaking began again. "So, how do you feel?" the voice was encouraging, like any other reporter.
The other was the Victor, clearly feeling pressured into an awkward situation. So many years of studying the Victors gave the King what sort of impression each one had shown, and will show. The look reflected in the Victor's unusual eyes, however, was unfathomable to the King or his footman. It was something they hadn't quite seen before.

"To be honest... I'm not sure how I feel..." it was a pure, accented voice, compared to the realm of Ritalion anyway. It reminded the King of a broken bell, still tolling gently along, oblivious to the world around it. "It's something I can't read, which startles and amazes me..." This was responded with an eruption of kind laughter from the audience. "I guess only time will tell." the Victor continued. A baffled expression found it's way onto the interviewer's face. Remus Flickerman... Yaxley thought, remembering his father just as well, in the exact same spot he was sitting in at that moment.

"Really? No... pride or grief, sorrow or happiness?" That last one no one could admit. No one had felt that after winning such a feat. "I mean, you have just won the 99th Hunger Games. Don't you feel something?" Some more hesitation came, but it wasn't at a loss for words, the King figured. It was to reshape them.
"I never implied I felt nothing." came the soft retort. "I guess... you could say it's a mix of many emotions. Or possibly I'm just very overwhelmed."

The same thing said twice, the King noted. Clever with words.

After a shrug of the shoulders, as if lifting or brushing away some troublesome burden, the Victor continued. "Without a doubt, I don't believe the memories I've gained from here shall ever leave me. And I'll be glad to never show my face here again. No offense." the Victor raised their hands solemnly. The audience laughed again, as did Remus Flickerman. "None taken." he replied with the exact same charm his father had on the crowd. "I assume you'll want to settle down now and return back to your normal life, eh?"

The eyes of the Victor were altered, still unreadable, but they seemed to have grown a little darker, as if recalling something dreadful or haunting. Despite such, the Victor reclined on the couch and folded their hands behind the head. "Oh, most definitely." said with a nod of the head. The King could detect the smallest amount of sarcasm in the tone. Thinking exactly as the interviewed was, he tried to understand the feelings and thoughts running through the Victor's head.

Remus Flickerman leaned forward, rested one elbow on his knee and then rested his chin upon his hand. "What are you going to do first?" he inquired. Casually, the Victor smirked and closed their eyes. "As I am doing now; My first act will be to recline like this and try to forget you people." This brought the loudest laughter yet from the crowd.

As the smirk disappeared from the countenance, the Victor's tone became more sincere, and tranquil, drawing in a long lost memory. "Truthfully, I just long for my home; to run for the longest distance over a newly grown plain and then dive into a pool of clear water. Without having the burden of worry upon my shoulders that there will be someone at my back, waiting for the opportune moment to kill me. The eyes flashed again. They were fire orange, flickering like a weak new flame in an unfamiliar darkness. "It's the sole place I can think clearly. I can quietly dream and get lost in memories of the past." It was the most solemn words spoken that night.

Smiling sympathetically, Remus replied, as though he had been pulled into that dream too. "That's a beautiful thought." his eyes wandered to the crowd and he held out a hand towards the Victor. "How about a round of applause for this brilliant youth?" The audience howled, cheered and thunderously clapped their approval.
"You've been through so much these recent days. And if it's what you want, I hope we never see you again either." Another rise of laughter. How foolish the people of the Capitol are. the King pondered. "No offense."

"None taken." the Victor grinned, half-heartedly. The Victor's fingers entwined with each other on their lap and they sat up straight again, to be polite. "And that's our-"

The King paused the footage then, reaching in front of Yaxley, then rewound the tape a little until there was a clear picture of the Victor's face. In silence, the King put all his implications and facts together.
"If I may, Your Highness; what peculiar eyes this one has.." Yaxley examined the picture as well, adjusting his round-rimmed spectacles onto his face.

"Yes indeed, Yaxley. Very unusual irises." A snap came from the King's direction. "Pull up the Victor's file, if you will." Although this matter had nothing to do with Yaxley's will or desire. Curtly nodding, Yaxley rapidly typed again. The first footage returned to it's original place and a new image replaced it. In the picture, the Victor was not smiling, for at the time it was taken, they had no reason to. All the biography of the youth appeared to the right. The King scanned this without audible wording.

"It cannot be the same person." Yaxley cleared his throat and marvelled.
"And yet it is." The King responded.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Yaxley?"
"It's one of them, Your Honour."
A trembling silence. "Yes." Abruptly he rose from the chair, his face still hidden in shadow. "You know what shall become of this now."
Confused, Yaxley turned his face to him. "I beg your pardon, Your Highness?"
The luminescent, gloom that were the king's eyes pierced into his footman. Then turned away, as if he couldn't stand to look that way much longer. "Tell me, Yaxley... how many years have we watched Panem?"
The footman returned his glasses to his pocket. "Ninety-nine, sir."
"How many years have we been allied to Panem?"
"...Forty-nine, Your Honour..."
A malichious smile crept onto his face. "How many years have we controlled Panem, Yaxley?"
Without pleasure, he replied. "...Twenty-four..."
"And how many years have we put this... 'test' on trial?"
"...Nine years, Your Highness..."
In one swift movement, a hand from the darkness grasped Yaxley by the front of his coat and pulled his chin up to meet face to face with his master. He still could not see a thing, his eyesight had been blurred. "The entire land of Panem is in debt to us, Yaxley. Ever since that little nuisance of a Rebellion, they have been obliged under our will."
Trying not to feel or appear frightened, he nodded. He was dropped back onto his feet and the King turned away again. "How many more years until everything falls into place, Yaxley?"
Trembling now, he found himself unable to respond.
"Yaxley!"
"...One, sir..." he said in his husky voice. The chair spun and shot out in the footman's direction in some sort of outburst. He leaped back and grunted as his back fell into the edge of the desk.
"Arrange connections with the President of Panem for me!" he ordered. The King's hand gestured to the door and it shot open again. Yaxley backed out of the room willingly and turned away. "Yes, Your Highness!"
As he took one step out of the cylindrical room, the dooming voice shouted at him again.

"And get me more information on this Victor!"

Comments and Criticism welcome!