Welcome to this fanfic which has been on the back burner for awhile. I've finally gotten enough to feel comfortable posting a first chapter.
Obviously, this is a niche crossover, but I had to. It is just one of those itches you have to scratch, y'know?
The crew behind Katniss is going to be very limelight in this fic. Katniss and Peeta will obviously be around, but not the POV folks. Effie, Cinna, Haymitch, the styling team and Eddie are kinda the mains here.
Set during Catching Fire, obviously.
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"What the fuckin' hell, man!? You didn't tell me this was a show for the god damn victory tour!" Eddie hissed out at his Tour manager, Roger. Eddie was bristling openly as he squared his shoulders, more than ready to chew out the other man. He pushed himself out of the chair across from the other man's desk. He was half tempted to just walk the hell out right here and right now. Fuck this shit, just fuck it.
Roger rolled his eyes, shaking ash from his cigarette into the ashtray on his desk casually as he spoke. "Eddie, they wanted the best. You're the best." He took a moment to take another drag. "It's a no brainer. Didn't think you'd let yourself get all riled over this."
When he spoke again smoke drifted from his lips, filling the air between them. The small cluttered office reeked of cigarette smoke and stale booze in a way that was undeniable, even with the door open the smell would linger. Eddie used to find the scent mildly comforting, right now his whole damn world was thrown out of fucking whack. He trusted Roger to find good paying gigs for local or cross District shows, yet, here he fucking was roped into more propaganda than he ever wanted to be.
Roger took Eddie's fuming silence as a chance to press on the issue a little harder. "All I need you to do is keep your head down and work. Keep any of your ridiculous little sentiments to your self. Unless of course you want to disappear after this." Roger added with another roll of his eyes. "Be a real shame to see you go, given your talents."
Eddie gave a frustrated sound, scrubbing at his face with his hands. "Fuck."
"Look, its simple, do your job." Roger stated slowly, arching a brow back at Eddie. "This is a gig you're on and if you back out now, well, it's rather anti-Panem in itself isn't it?"
"Fucks sake, Roger, you dickhead-" Eddie spit back out, ready to launch into a tirade until knocking came at the office door. Eddie snapped his mouth shut, as the intercom chimed a warning. The smooth robotic voice announced the names of those waiting at the door. Eddie recognized a few of them, which only made things worse.
"Looks like the rest of the crew are here to give their information." Roger mused, "Done with your tantrum, Riggs?"
Eddie's lips thinned into an angry line, "When this is over-" He started, only to be waved off by the man hiring him. "You'll thank me. I have your contact information, the tour will be starting by the end of the month. Get your shit in order. I need my head roadie, my production manager on his A-game. I'll send you updates."
Eddie gave a terse nod, stepping aside wordlessly as the door slid open for the next few people waiting to speak to the Tour manager. He filed out as they filed in. All Eddie could do was quietly fume to himself as he walked down the hallway. It was taking effort not to just kick shit around in frustration. He didn't sign up for this crap.
Eddie sucked in a slow angry breath as he staggered to a stop at the end of the hallway. He lived this long, he wasn't going to blow everything now. He at least had his features schooled to something as neutral as he could make it.
He jabbed a finger at the button on the wall, summoning the elevator. He took slow deep breaths, steadying himself. He jammed his hands into his jean pockets casually, just trying to force himself to relax even if his heart wanted to beat against his ribs angrily. He flicked his gaze back upwards when the elevator dinged, the doors swishing open.
He offered a thin lipped smile to other familiar faces as the elevator opened. Roger was really pulling at the roadies in the nearby area for this gig. Eddie had to wonder if they would object as much as he did or simply shrug it off. The thought made his stomach clench as he stepped into the now empty elevator. After pushing the garage button, he flopped back against the elevator wall far too casually to try and play off the humming uncertainty under his skin.
His walk was languid and too relaxed when he walked out of the elevator. He dug through his pockets for his keys, breathing in the fumes of the garage level with some sense of relief. He just had to get home. That's all he had to do now.
It didn't take long for him to find his car. It wasn't remotely as flashy or dramatic as other vehicles, but it did the job and he always could find it.
He was glad he drove here instead of taking public transport, otherwise he'd lose his shit being surrounded by people excitedly chatting about the Hunger Games victors. It was nearly impossible to avoid hearing about The Games when they happened, this year was even worse than usual. The palatable excitement in the air left Eddie feeling uneasy.
He could already guess the tour was going to make the uneasiness grow.
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Working outside of any of the districts in itself was a blessing few really had. Eddie himself was enough of an outlier he knew he was lucky in a lot of ways. He lived on the fringes of District Two and had clearance to actually travel unlike most of the population. Hell, Eddie was living his dream and doing stage production and roadie work, which meant he got to see more Districts than most normal people did in their life time.
It never stopped him from feeling decidedly sour about Panem as a whole. Growing up in a poorer District meant he didn't have much sympathy for Capitol residents. He knew well enough to keep his damn mouth firmly shut. If you talked, you had the chance of mysteriously disappearing in the dead of night and being forgotten by anyone who might've known you. If you talked, you had the chance of everyone you ever loved mysteriously dying or disappearing. There was no winning if you didn't know how to stay quiet.
It would be an ironic enough fate for a roadie, but, he promised his old man he'd live. Riggnarok had only asked one thing from him, and Eddie didn't want to disappoint the only family he had. He'd tamp down on his urge to tell the Capitol to eat his entire ass for his dad's sake. The thought of his dad working himself to the bone in their old district plagued Eddie the rest of the week as he tried to get everything in order for the tour. Alerting his apartment manager and paying ahead of time for the next two months, putting his car into storage for the next few weeks, the last thing he really needed to do was talk with a friend so they could swing by to water his plants.
He grumbled under his breath as he jammed some clothes into his duffle bag, trying to be mildly restrained as he attempted to pack his usual gear for a tour. Jeans, t-shirts, extra boxers, back up sneakers and toiletries. He had the system down pat by now that packing was always the easy part.
The chiming of the screen built into the nearest wall pulled Eddie from his packing, he dropped his duffle bag onto the bed for the moment drifting over to poke at the touch screen. After a flick or two he found what came in. A message from Roger with more information about the victory tour lay within.
"Greaaaaat." He exhaled lowly, "Just fuckin' fantastic." He muttered picking through the information whilst scrolling. He already knew the basics, who the victors were and what the general theme was going to be. Anyone who didn't know about the upset that came from two victors would have to be living under a damn rock. Eddie had to admire that tenacity and willfulness, it took guts to stand up to the Capitol like that, much less directly push against The Games.
He wasn't sure how long the damn kids were going to live after this. Rebellion wasn't exactly, welcomed in these parts. The thought made Eddie wince to himself, before he shook it off. He coaxed a hand through his hair tiredly. "Okay, lets, not think about… kid death. Not today, satan."
So far the only damn positives were the snub these damn kids gave Snow himself. Along side the apparent fact the girl's stylist wanted stuff to be fire themed. Fire he could work with, hell, fire was better than the other themes from the last victory tour he remembered seeing last time.
The whole masonry theme never really equated to anything decent. That poor Tollak Spurling kid had no chance of having a decent victory tour. Eddie turned away from the screen to walk back over to where he laid his duffle bag out on his bed, moving to pluck his notebook from inside the bag itself. He needed to make a few notes before he forgot what he had in mind.
He needed to call the stylist, Cinna. They had to figure out a bit more about the theming if they were going to get anywhere. Stages had be built, lighting set up, things made extravagant and opulent even in the poorest district. With time the Victory Tours had become more showy, less stop and make a speech and more about imposing the Capitol's will over everyone else.
This isn't what he signed up for when it came to being a roadie, but he didn't have a damn choice in the matter. He snapped his notebook shut after a moment, tucking his pen behind his ear.
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Even with the prestige that came with working on a Victory Tour, it could at least be said it ran like any other gig. The roadies, technicians and stylists were here early. Eddie was glad of that much, it meant he could just slide into his role more easily. He wouldn't have to be as personable as he usually was. The camera crew and catering crew would appear in a few hours before the train left. He could guess in between that the Mentors and Escort would appear, he wasn't sure when, and he wasn't too worried about it.
He recognized more than a few faces amongst the roadies hired for the gig. He shoved down the worry they wanted to be here, focusing instead on getting shit organized. People he knew from other tours meant he could snap out orders and things would get done. So far hell had some decent silver linings he could work with.
Most of the equipment was being loaded into the cargo hold of the train by the roadies. They were quick to get things rolling. Eddie could pick out snippets of conversation as people greeted one another. Those who hadn't seen each other since the last tour making idle conversation as they worked on loading up the train.
Eddie couldn't find it in him to be all that warm or fuzzy about anything right now. He picked through his check list on his clipboard, going over what needed to be finished. There was still a decent amount to do. Equipment for the stages had to get loaded, as well as food and anything the stylists needed.
After the train was loaded up, they would be showing up to District 12 to actually pick up the Victors.
"So, you must be Eddie." The roadie blinked out of his thoughts, gaze drifting from his clipboard up to the dark skinned man with dark short cropped hair smiling back at him. The man has apparently walked up on him without Eddie even noticing. The black suit he's wearing paired with his colorful but simple necklaces are eye catching in a way most things aren't these days. He's simple, but elegant. He's not done up in the way most Capitolites are.
The man doesn't look as showy enough to be part of the stylists, but the nice quality of his clothes spoke to not being a roadie either. The man extends a hand, and Eddie is more than happy to meet him for a handshake. The shake itself is firm and short, brisk and business even with the smile the other man wears.
"I'm Cinna." He offers with an amused edge to his smile at the confusion that must have been clear on Eddie's face. The roadie finds himself brightening into a smile at that, "Cinna, nice to meet you- s'nice to finally have a face to go with the name." At best they had talked over written messages to compare notes, but not much else.
Cinna laughs lightly at that, "I could say the same, though I hadn't expected someone quite as handsome." The teasing lilt to his voice makes Eddie laugh lowly. The roadie knows he's likely blushing. Hard not to when someone like Cinna flirts with you.
"Cinna, are you tryin' to flirt with me?" Eddie joked in turn, "Aren't we supposed to be professional here?"
"A man is allowed his indulgences, Eddie." Cinna's words are smooth and playful, "Besides, we're going to be working closely together for the next two weeks. I like to be relaxed with people I work with."
"Real close if this is any indicator." Eddie throws back easily, grinning when he earns a laugh from Cinna. He doesn't want to push the banter too hard, shifting to a more on task conversational topic. "Are we still gonna be tying costumes to the stages?"
Cinna nods easily, his smile is still light even as his tone grows a touch more serious. "I want to be sure Katniss shines during this. I want to be sure Peeta can have equal footing with her on stage."
"So make the stage amplify them-?" The roadie questions more rhetorically in turn. "That's a good idea honestly. If this was a normal show I'd say push it harder, but, eeh."
"Things will already be, tense in some districts." Cinna agrees carefully. The Peace Keepers have yet to show up, but, Eddie isn't surprised the other man is speaking diplomatically. Choosing your words carefully was a necessity.
A crash from nearby startles the two from their conversation. Eddie groans in annoyance, he turns to face the source of the crash, cupping a hand around his mouth. "God damn it, Margo! I told you to carry the boxes not throw them around like an ape!" The man in question shouts something back, but goes to shamefacedly pick up the box he threw. "I swear to fuck if you broke anythin' in there, its on your ass!" Eddie adds after a moment.
Cinna gives a faint snort, shaking his head a little. "Once your done, come find me and we can finalize a few thing." The roadie flicks his gaze back over to the man besides him.
He scratched at his cheek as he spoke. "Right, which car are you in-? So I can find you."
"The seventh car. 7A. I'll be sure to leave my door open for you." Cinna states easily, before patting Eddie's arm before walking off to join the rest his styling team. The rest of them look like what Eddie expected of Cinna, elaborately dressed, tweaked with surgery and startling to the human eye.
He let thoughts of Cinna drop away as he marched over to inspect the box Margo had thrown. If anything had broken, they at least had the chance to replace it now before the train left.
He turns away from the roadies and nearly runs into a woman in his hurry. The woman runs a hand over her dark blue dress in annoyance. The large fluffy feathered sleeves make it look like she's puffed up in displeasure. Her overly pale skin and blonde hair balances out the darkness of the dress. He can't really blame her, he nearly ran into her. In those heels he'd have knocked her over entirely.
"Sorry bout that, ma'am." He manages politely back, "Wasn't lookin' where I was goin'." His apology does lessen the annoyance on her part, she gives a thoughtful sound. She adjusts her hair, a wig, as she speaks.
"Lovely, someone with manners!" She offers him a smile, "Do you know how many of these men can't manage simple manners?"
"A lot of 'em?" Eddie questions dryly back. "All of 'em? Depends on the day."
She huffs with a laugh now, "I had hoped today of all days they'd be tip top manners."
"Eh, they'll be outta the way." He shrugs back, figuring manners could slide as long as the roadies kept a low profile like they're supposed to. "I'll be sure the roadies don't get catch anyones eye. If they do, they're gonna get a real talkin' to." He knows these guys, if they fuck up enough to be noticed during the tour, they're clearly not taking this seriously.
The woman pauses, "Are you in charge of them?"
"Yeah, I'm Eddie Riggs." He extends a hand out of habit, handshakes are expected with common folk from the districts. A gesture Eddie still finds himself doing even now. Effie's brows knit together but she accepts the shake. It's awkward and weird, more like she's patting his hand than anything else. She's not shy about touching him, but clearly not used to handshakes.
"Ah, you're the man I need to speak with." Eddie is relieved when she lets go of his hand, "I'm Effie Trinket. I'm handling the schedule and Victors directly. I'm District 12's mentor." The name is a familiar one given he's exchanged about one message with her about pinning down the schedule. There had been a few irregularities they hadn't worked on yet. Eddie couldn't blame her, Effie was apparently working with the kids a lot and the mentor for District 12. Haymitch is almost legendary for being a train wreck. Anyone's hands would be full.
"We got a lot to talk about then." He agrees easily, tucking his clipboard against his chest casually. "Do you have the schedule fully hammered out? I wanna be sure we got things flowing smoothly in a timely manner." This isn't a show he's enthused about, but like hell he'll let that show.
She clasps her hands together at that, brightening enough Eddie's sure she could blind a few people with that smile. "Finally! Someone whose speaking sense! Do you know how much people dally? Its ridiculous!"
"It's a tour, we gotta stay on time." He answers with a snort. "We don't really have a lot of time to fuck round." She wrinkles her nose at the swearing but doesn't comment on it, instead quick to pull out her own leather bound notebook of plans. Her organizational skills makes the roadie smile a little. A gal after his own heart, clearly.
Eddie flips the page of his clipboard to the print out he has of the schedule. Her smile brighten a watt or two at that, clearly having not expected him to print out the schedule she sent him. The two walk together talking about where and when things are happening. Together they manage to get things ironed out.
"Okay, so, we have a little wiggle room here and there." Eddie motions at a column on the page he's on, "Just incase we need to change anything or if either kid gets sick."
"Wiggle room never hurts, as long as it doesn't become a wiggle hallway." Effie agrees easily, tapping her own pen against her notepad. "Or a wiggle villa, we can't afford that."
"If I could afford a wiggle villa, we'd both be in entirely different careers." He throws back jokingly. Effie laughs brightly at that, "Don't make me daydream about a villa! Not now!"
"Now you're ruinin' my good time of teasing you about villas that wiggle." Eddie states easily with a waggle of his brows. "Think we're good on this?"
"I believe so!" She closes her notebook with a snap. "Thank you, Eddie. I'm glad we were able to get this finished."
"Me too, means we can get this show on the road." He glanced away from her back to the roadies. He's relieved they're nearly done. "I'm gonna make sure everything gets loaded so we can get moving to District 12. See you on the train, Effie."
"Good luck with them, dear!" She offers easily before making her way to the passenger parts of the train. Eddie is glad she didn't shout that. Apparently, Capitolites can learn subtly.
Out of anything he hadn't expected this much decency out of Capitol fuckers, but, hey, life surprised you sometimes. Eddie opts to not dwell on it that deeply as the roadies get everything loaded up onto the train in a fairly timely manner.