AN: This is the introduction for the 92nd Hunger Games. It introduces the newest Winner/Mentor and gives you some insight of how I write. There's another AN at the bottom, but for now, enjoy reading this little introduction!
Thaddeus Marcas POV - 28 years old - Escort District four - A week before the reapings
Mornings were not my thing, I didn't do mornings. Waking up before noon had been a foreign concept to me for years, yet now it wasn't even nine o'clock and I was already sitting in a car. If it hadn't been for the tinted windows and the lovely chauffeur, I might have refused to get in.
The scent of coffee that my bodyguard was drinking couldn't even help me wake up. Bodyguard Krause was nothing more than a peacekeeper in a suit, but wearing his normal uniform was something I heavily discouraged when seeing a mentor fresh out of his home district.
It was ridiculous really, that I had a bodyguard to start with, but my complaints hadn't helped. Besides him looking out for me, I think he was also there to make sure I did my job. And I did, I'd gotten out of bed this morning and made it to the car on time.
I wasn't in the mood for a conversation and neither was Krause, who liked to silently drink his coffee in the morning just as much as I liked to sleep in the morning. So the car ride was a quiet affair, and far too soon the car came to a silent stop in front of an apartment complex.
"I hope your new mentor is willing to come with us," Krause broke the silence, "Using force on his first day isn't something I want to do."
"Yesterday evening he'd seemed... reasonable," I said. It was true. Yesterday I'd met him at the Escorts Banquet, where the escorts were the center of attention before they set off for the Districts. He hadn't said much, but that wasn't a crime.
Krause grunted. "We'll see about now."
We got out of the car - a sleek, black thing that made me miss my motorcycle – and walked up to the entrance of the apartment complex. Krause had a set of keys, so we went inside and got into the elevator, which swiftly brought us to the top floor.
We found the right door and knocked, waited, and knocked again. Calling out his name didn't help either. Krause had a second set of keys, which opened the apartment door, and with a meaningful glance my way he unlocked it.
The apartment itself was spotless. I didn't know what I'd expected, but not this. I'd heard stories of mentors completely destroying their rooms in fits of rage, who'd gone completely mental.
Eventually I saw the man himself though, when Krause and I took a few steps into the apartment, and it was as if he hadn't heard us. He was sitting on his couch, back to us, completely non-responsive as far as I could tell.
"Mayon? We're here to pick you up," I said. "I met you yesterday at the Banquet. I'm Thaddeus Marcas, this year's District four escort."
I got no response, and arching an eyebrow at Krause and motioning with my hand for him to stay put, I approached Mayon. When I had walked around the couch, I could finally see him. The bags around his eyes, that he was wearing the suit from yesterday, the empty glass in his hands.
Talking apparently didn't give me a reaction, so maybe pulling the empty glass out of his hands would. I did exactly that, and slowly the dulled green eyes found my face, only now noticing he had a guest.
"Got your attention now, huh," I grinned, sitting down on the coffee table so we'd be on the same level, "Remember me from yesterday?"
Mayon nodded, "Yeah, you were the one stealing from your neighbors plate."
His voice sounded rough, but he got the message across. Apparently I hadn't been as sneaky as I'd thought I'd been, and behind the couch Krause had raised his eyebrows at me, as if to say, 'really Thaddeus, stealing food?'
"Yeah, that was me," I admitted sheepishly, "I introduced myself to you later on the evening, because I'll be working with you this year. The mentor of District four and the escort of District four kind of work together, you know. I told you I would escort you to your District today, for the Reaping later on. I informed you of all that."
"I am aware," was the response I got, "but I don't feel like being a mentor all that much. Get the old mentor to do it, let him watch his tributes die. I've seen enough dead people for a while."
He broke the eye contact, choosing to stare out of the window behind me instead.
I set the empty glass on the coffee table beside me, and clasped my hands together. This was going to be a long conversation, and a long day. I was starting to form a headache already.
"Look at it this way," I started, "As a mentor, you're trying to keep your tributes alive instead of sitting here doing nothing. As a mentor, at least you can do something. You can gather sponsors, choose what and when to send your tributes the right item, and gather information here and there that might help. You can give them advice, before and in the Arena. They might survive, because you made an effort to help them."
It was silent for some time, but I knew he'd heard me, as a small frown marred his face.
"Could you live with the guilt of not helping?" I added.
Mayon's face went stark white, his eyes flashing back to me. "Don't guilt trip me, escort. There's a big chance the Careers in my home District don't even want me as a mentor, as I've murdered my own district partner after I left the Career pack. To them I am a traitor, and I should've been the one rotting in the ground instead of her."
"Do you know what happens to unwilling winners?" I asked, trying out a different approach, "Winners who refuse absolutely everything disappear. Do you want to disappear, Mayon?"
"I'm not suicidal, so no. I'd rather stick around."
"Then let me tell you one thing, one thing you have to remember," I said, staring at him so hard he couldn't avoid me, "The Games don't end when you win in that Arena. That's when it starts. And it will never end, you will always be the Winner of the 91st Annual Hunger Games, and now you will be the Mentor of District four. You will be a puppet on strings for the Capitol for the rest of your life, and if you don't play along, your strings will be cut and you can join that district partner of yours in the ground and rot all you want. If you don't want to help your tributes, than at least help yourself by going with me."
Mayon didn't have anything to say to that, so I took his silence as agreement to come with me, and when I pulled him up by the shoulder he didn't fight me off.
"Go clean up, shower and all," I said, pushing him away from the couch, "and then we'll still be here to escort you home. Don't try anything funny, Krause here is strong enough to kick your ass if you try anything."
Krause, who'd been silent the entire time, grinned promisingly at Mayon before the new mentor disappeared behind a door.
"You're going to have a great partnership with that one," Krause told me. "A real ray of sunshine to work with, I suspect."
I threw him a look, but Krause couldn't keep the small smile off his face, "It's going to be fine."
"At least you got him to go with you. There would've been hell for both of you if he'd refused to come. Good work, rookie. Nice first day on the job," he praised me.
I shrugged, a bowl of apples having caught my eye. Mayon wouldn't miss one.
Mayon hadn't tried anything funny, and came back dressed in fresh clothing and smelling like pines. He arched an eyebrow at me chewing on an apple, but didn't say anything.
Apparently he didn't know about some of the luxuries the Capitol had to offer, if his wet hair was anything to go by. With one push on the right button your hair was dried in a second, but Mayon looked like a wet dog instead.
"Nice hair," I said, holding the apartment door open.
Mayon passed me, glancing at the half-eaten apple in my hand. "Nice apple."
Yes, this was really a great year to look forward too, and Krause seemed to agree. Maybe with too much amusement, but still.
AN: Hopefully this gives you some insight of how I write and of course it introduces the new Mentor. This story, the 92nd Hunger Games, started off in Dutch, but apparently over the course of a year, Dutch became quite impossible for me to write in. The only story I still wrote in Dutch, was my Hunger Games, and the rest I wrote in English. I got stuck at district 7 and there was no way I could continue in Dutch. I write a lot faster in English, and I like the language a lot. This introduction wasn't beta-ed, because I haven't heard back from my beta yet, who I've asked if she wanted to help with this story as well. But as I haven't gotten a reply yet, I decided to post already.
The tribute list has been opened and the Dutch readers had until the 26th of August to transfer their tributes to this story if they wanted. The deadline ended, so you can submit your tribute!
This story will eventually also work with a sponsoring system, but I'll explain that later on.