What does a sponsor think when they see a tribute? A rather… interesting two –shot, one from Red's perspective… one from Cashmere's.
FInnick's Mockingjay description of the Victors' treatments made me think. Did anyone else suffer like this?
It's rated T for a reason. Language, and some suggestive material… but NO LEMONS.
I do not own the Hunger Games.
He exits the door and pops on over to check the mail. His step-mother always tells him not to, but hey, there could be a love letter just out there waiting for him. After all, he's nineteen and he's probably the most eligible bachelor in town. At least that's what his step-mom tells him.
All that's there are bills, bills, and oh lovely, more bills. The only thing worthy of mentioning is the annual Hunger Games catalogue that features all of this year's tributes.
It's been sixty three years since the Games have started. Apparently his grandfather was on the council of whether the Games are able to be played or not. He tells him that grand-daddy voted no, but that's a load of Bull-crap. Everyone, at least in the Capitol, knows that the Hunger Games were unanimously decided by all twenty members of the President's council. Even he knew this, even though he barely passed history, with a solid D+.
He would have thrown the catalogue out. But something there caught his eye. It was the District One girl tribute. Her name was Cashmere. Cashmere Calcite. It was a fairly interesting name. Rolled off the tongue nicely, he decided. It said that she was sixteen precisely, and the sister of this year pat's Victor, Gloss. Stupid dunder-headed boy, but he had to give it to him. His sister was as hot as hell. And he liked it. A lot. And, she was just three years younger than he was himself. Nothing like him being a pedophile or anything. It was just a little crush…. But an idea began to formulate in his head.
"Mom," he shouted. "How much money is in my savings account?"
"Why dear?" She replies.
"I wanna sponsor a tribute." He say nonchalantly. He, well… his family, given that he was only six at the time of the Games, has sponsored one before. Haymitch Abernathy. And he won. So he thinks correction. He knows mom would be more than okay with this.
"Well, honey, if we add up all of the gift money grandmamma gave you, your soccer sponsorship money, and the money from Uncle Ludo's will… umm…. er… Fifteen million Circenses." His mom says to him, calculator in hand, pen in the other.
He ponders this fact. Three years. She has one hell of a body. His mothers told him in the strictest confidence that the privileges sponsors sponsoring Victors can get. And if you have a name in the Capitol, you can just reserve a Victor for you, yourself and, well…. You. He decided to take the risk.
"Mom, Gabby," he states, addressing his mom and step-mom. "Imma sponsor Cashmere Calcite."
They looked at him. "Do we have to pay?" Gabby asks with an expression of malice. Jealousy.
"No." He emphasizes. "I'll pay for it. And consider it a gift cuz I'm so generous. I'll split my winnings with the pair of you."
They exchange a glance. "All right, son." His Mom says.
He meets with her mentor, a youngish looking guy whose name is Glitter. A rather gay looking guy with an equally gay sounding name. But his tribute is hot as hell. And despite the hardships, he's willing to cope with it.
Training goes by well. Cashmere gets a solid ten. It's just then he realizes that she's hot AND deadly. He knows right then and there that he did make the right decision in picking her.
She puts on an interview angle of flirtatious. He imagines her at his house… god. How enchanting. He knows again that he made a very, very, good decision.
The Games start. She makes a fairly decent amount of kills, two, to be exact. She teams up with her district partner and the tributes from 2 and 4. Why do those districts always end up winning? Beats him and his moms. But whatever.
It's not long into the games where the alliance turns on itself. Her mentor and him both send out a steady flow of gifts.
Before he realizes it, it's down to Cashmere and District Two. They fight for hours, both getting seemingly fatal injuries. It's now down to whoever can hang on the longest.
The cannon fires.
He dares not to look up.
When he finally does he sees his wish.
The crown now belongs to Cashmere.
It's been seven months. The President accepted his claim on Cashmere, Cash, he decided he'd call her, but requested that he wait after the Tour so that he may inform her of what was to happen.
The door of his bedroom, rather the hotel room, opens. She enters.
"So you're my Head Sponsor." She deadpans. "I'm supposed to thank you." She states… with eyes filled with malice. He didn't think he looked that bad.
"Yup." He says as flirtatiously as possible. "And I am all yours."
There's an awkward silence.
"Why don't we have a drink?" he asks. Anything the avoid the awkward silence.
After the drinks, they chat aimlessly. Of Snow, of life in district One, of peacekeepers, of gossip. He does most of the talking, she just listens. But after that they get down to business.
In the morning, the room is a mess. Clothes strewn everywhere, a few broken bottles of champagne lie on the floor, and… stuff is just everywhere. They didn't even sleep a wink… they were just so busy.
And it was worth every penny.
She goes to freshen up, while he just lies there…exhilarated. He just had the time of his life.
He sorta, kinda, maybe feels guilty, but hey. It's not his fault the districts were greedy for more power. They never had to revolt. Like his granddaddy used to say, "We're the innocent party. Not them." He spoke with so much contempt in his voice that it was hard not to hate them as well.
It was well worth it.
They meet up frequently. He enjoys chatting with her, but he likes her somewhere else better, if you get what he means. He can't do that anymore, as she is needed in District One. That's now one more reason he likes the Games. Her. And to think he thought of it as a crush. Hell, no. He loves her, and makes up her mind to tell her next time she's in town.
These exchanges go on for quite some time. He likes them, and he knows she likes it too. He sometimes wonders if Snow had her or her family threatened or something like that, but he knew Snow wouldn't stoop that low. And even if he did, it was none of his business. He was perfectly happy with where he was…is now. Alive, that is.
During the games, when Cashmere's free, they make plans to meet up. He has the most expensive cologne and tux, and tells his Avox to hand-deliver to her the most seductive outfit his mom could buy. They meet at the most expensive hotel in Panem, the Burj-al-Panem. It's the best hotel though, and he wants everything to be perfect.
She arrives to the room in the glimmering, short, revealing, cocktail dress, hand stiched out of gold, to match her hair, and green to match her eyes. She looks stunning. Man, Cash, how hard are you going to make this, he thinks.
When he tries to speak, she silences him with a kiss. A sultry one. But there's a problem. She's distracted. He looks up at her. In her eyes, he can see only one expression. Fear. He turns around. And he screams.
Three men, heavily armed, aim punches at him. He screams, it's so painful. It aches. And it hurts.
It seems to go on forever. And then, finally, he can see his life before his eyes. His moms, granddaddy, the last few months with Cashmere.
Suddenly, he realizes one thing. He never did regret anything that went wrong in his life.
And with that realization, everything goes bright, then black.
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