Title: "Brightly"
Books - Hunger Games - Rated T - Adventure / Suspense - Effie T. / Mayer Undersee
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Summary:
Right on schedule, the formalities of Panem's 74th Hunger Games begin with the reaping event, held in each District. Doris Brightly, assigned to the farthest flung District, puts on the show of her life, and gets in return more than she ever expected.
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A/N: There are two peer stories to this one, "TF5" and "Seneca". There is no order to them! They refer to each other but not in any manner wherein you need to have read one before the other. I hope you enjoy them all.
Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins and I agree that Hunger Games is her creation and possession, including all its characters, story, setting and so on. I own nothing and make no claim, except that my fingers typed out this story, "Brightly".
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Chapter One:
Doris descended from the train only at dusk. They had arrived at noon, almost exactly, but she had learned to avoid the District's intense mid day heat and humidity. She could not imagine how the locals did it, living as such. With the evening's arrival came her chance to get out and check on the preparations.
The Justice Building, a short drive from the station, was the first stop. By the time she came through the doors the film and sound crews, security and operations personnel had been setting up for hours. Everything had to be unpackaged and prepared from scratch. This is how it had to be since nothing was ever left behind. One day for the entire operation. And for everything there was a plan. Seneca's genius shown, even here, so very far from the Capital.
Orderlies had prepared her seat and table. Her glass, she saw, held plenty of ice. This was a requirement she insisted upon. And whenever she asked for something, it was to to be provided. Briefcase in hand, she greeted everyone and was introduced to the new faces. The welcoming ceremony was short, just as she preferred. She saw no reason for fuss regarding the off-camera proceedings.
"So good to see you, Ms. Brightly," beamed Mayer Undersee.
"Always a pleasure," she replied. And actually it was a pleasure to see him again. This man somehow held her attention and she remembered him often throughout the year.
"I have some papers for you," she added quickly, but then moved along loudly with "So good to be back. Your mountain air is such a marvelous change from that of the Capital. It is remarkable how the two differ."
"I agree," he replied in his friendly style. "You have have a considerable altitude advantage on us and somehow with that you lose the humidity."
"And you can keep it too," she wanted to add, but held this part back. Yet he knew what she was thinking and smiled. It was all part of their annual ritual of saying hello after being apart for so long.
"Shall we check out the stagings?" he inquired.
"Yes, let's start with the tribute rooms," he continued after she agreed. "We're using the same two as last year – better lighting, I am told."
They moved down the main hallway and entered the first. The ice in her glass tinkled sweetly and she took a sip. A pale teenage girl was sitting on a sofa. Doris recognized having seen her on the train. Around her a three man crew was checking camera and microphone positions.
"So this room will once again be for the female tribute?" Doris asked.
"Yes, we're keeping that the same as well," the mayor replied.
Doris could see why. As she recalled, the other room had more direct lighting and the general atmosphere made it seem better suited for the male tribute's brave and hopefully stoic farewell moments. This room, with its more filtered lighting made the lines softer, more suited for the female tribute. And this year they would want all that softness. She was glad they had brought along such a young girl to play the stand-in. Yes, this is going to go well, she thought.
"... ten eleven twelve..." murmured the girl.
"Got it." said a tall, good-looking worker along the far wall. "Now again, this time a little louder." And the girl began counting again from one.
"This seems to be all set," Doris announced. It was under twenty hours now until show time. Clearly this part of the event was going to be well in hand by then. These farewell moments were always heartfelt tearjerkers, superb for capturing on film. They would be used for tribute recaps and to fill quiet moments and lulls once the Games began.
The next doors on the hallway were for security and operations. These were still hugely in flux with equipment being flung together amidst piles of cables, chairs and tables. A glimpse in the door was all that she and Mayer Undersee needed. These areas would need to be revisited tomorrow morning. Likely the technicians would be working for hours yet on the setup.
Upstairs, their single stop was the production room. Television monitors glowed, showing various angles of the main square. Cables, bound into bundles and stretching in a myriad of directions, made stepping about a challenge. Yet the room seemed far more settled than the two rooms they had just visited.
"Oh, Doris," said Mayor Undersee, "the work of your amazing Rivenus! She brings, again this ability to drive the production arm of the reaping."
Rivenus, a wiry young woman, dyed head to foot in a purple swirl, and with arms that reminded Doris of toothpicks – purple toothpicks – gave a gracious nod. Doris remembered her well from last year. Rivenus was swift and well know for her stern but orderly production management. The Avox crew she worked with, both here and at the Capital, were like an oiled machine. A show, whether for television or stage, with Rivenus in charge would always be well in hand.
Despite her strong presence here, Doris noted to herself that Rivenus had been invisible on the train ride. She must have been there, but just as with last year her presence almost seemed to disappear when her skills were not called for. Doris decided she would have to take on seeking her out on the ride back to Capital, even if just to verify Rivenus existed outside a production studio.
Making their way downstairs and out the side of the Justice Building, the two plus their small entourage moved around the building to the main square. "The paddocks," as Mayer Undersee called them, were being set up. These cordoned off areas separated where each flight of boys and girls would stand during the reaping. A small horde of Avox children were in the girls' third flight paddock area, being told to mill about slowly. Camera men on the square's encircling rooftops were preparing their tripods and other mounts. There had to be general coverage of all the flights, as again such coverage helped enrich the plot line that seemed to develop all on its own every year. There were always twists and variations nobody expected. Thus all the "paddocks" needed to be equally covered.
Upon a signal that Doris missed, the Avox group moved, almost like a herd of dumb sheep, across to the next paddock. Then they resumed their aimless milling. She presumed someone nearby must be giving them directions, although whom that might be escaped her. No matter, the preparation work was clearly being accomplished.
The stage was still being assembled. This too would have to be checked tomorrow morning. Every year the stage was assembled on the steps of the Justice Building. It was viewable by all in the square. Effie would pull the names of this year's tributes just after one o'clock. So much work for such a short event, she thought.
Even at this late hour the remaining humidity was stifling. They had been outside for no more than a couple of minutes but she could hardly take it. "Can we move along to dinner?" she asked Undersee, and was relieved when he saw her state and acquiesced.
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