Sorry I've been MIA for so long. And really, I'm only back for just this, so please don't get your hopes up.
I was watching The Hunger Games today and while I watching the end, I wondered what happened in that control room before Claudius yelled for Katniss and Peeta to stop. And, well, this is the result of my wondering.
I don't own anything. All names, etc. belong to Suzanne Collins. I'm merely a fan who enjoys writing/reading fanfiction.
I sat on the edge of my seat, my hands clasped on the table in front of me. Off to my right, Seneca was talking to one of the techs. He wasn't seeing what I was seeing. What most of seeing, actually. And that was Katniss and Peeta arguing about which one was going to die.
President Snow had had us change the rules back to the way they had been before: Only one victor can win. But I believe Seneca had been right. If they just flat out killed Katniss, they would have a martyr, so let's have two victors. But now we had been faced with a problem.
After that riot in District 11, we realized how dangerous it was to have two victors, and we had all been hoping for Cato and Clove to win, but now that both were dead, there was no chance at all for that.
On the many screens surrounding the room, I watched Katniss dig into her pockets and pull her hand back out, her fist clenched.
Peeta's brow furrowed in confusion.
"What-?" he asked, but she shook her head and opened her palm.
"No!" he cried, grabbing her hand.
I shot an anxious look at Seneca, but he was still in deep discussion with the tech.
Look, I thought. Look at the screen! Pay attention!
My eyes were drawn back to the screen as we heard Katniss say, "Trust me."
"Oh God," I groaned. Seneca still wasn't looking.
"Together?" Peeta wondered.
"Together," Katniss confirmed.
"What are they doing?" the woman to my right said aloud. "They're breaking the rules."
Finally, the tech drew Seneca's attention to the screen. And his mouth dropped.
"No," he breathed.
Katniss tipped her palm, allowing for some nightlock berries to fall into his waiting hand.
"On three."
"One," Peeta said.
He reached out and touched her braid as Katniss said, looking towards the cameras, "Two."
"Call it," I choked out. "Call it!" My voice grew louder. "Call it!"
Seneca messaged Claudius and said, "End it!"
"Three," Peeta finished.
Slowly, they lifted their hands to their mouths, put the berries in just as Claudius yelled, "Stop! STOP!"
There was a pause.
"Ladies and gentlemen." His voice was shaking noticeably. "May I present the 74th Hunger Games winners."
We all breathed a sigh of relief and Peeta and Katniss spat the poisonous berries out. But then I looked to Seneca and saw that he was deathly pale, his eyes wide with fear. When he lifted his hands to rub his face, I noticed, even at my distance, that they were shaking.
No one else saw this and I wondered what Snow would do to him. After all, there was the rule that there is to be only one victor and Seneca defied that, allowing for two. And now we had the star-crossed lovers from District 12 being picked up to be brought back to the Capitol so that they can cleaned up and crowned the winners.
This was unorthodox.
I sank back into my seat as the cameras cut to a screaming Katniss, pounding on a door as Peeta was taken away to be looked at. His leg, even I knew, wasn't going to be saved. He would have to have a fake one.
Closing my eyes, I allowed the sounds of Katniss's screams fade.
I heard a door open and the sounds of dozens of people getting to their feet.
My eyes snapped open in time to see President Snow stride slowly into the room, the door closing quickly behind him.
Jumping to attention, I watched as he made his way towards Seneca, who looked positively petrified now.
"Seneca," Snow said softly, "come with me."
Without another word, Snow turned on his heel and led the way out of the room with Seneca following close behind.
The door shut behind them and we all exchanged nervous looks.
"He's dead," a man behind me stated.
"He shouldn't have let there be two victors," Lucia agreed. She was shaking her head in disbelief.
The screens turned off and, unable to stand it anymore, I left the control room to catch my breath.
If we couldn't kill Katniss, what will happen? She already started a riot just because she sent off that girl from District 11 in a typical District 12 salute. That stupid girl was a symbol now, one that had to be eliminated.
But what could we do? We were only the techs, the brains of the Games.
Seneca would not survive to be Game Maker of the 75th Hunger Games, and I couldn't help but wonder who would be Game Maker for next year.
Whoever it would be, they would have to find a way to get Katniss back into the Games to finish her, and this pitiful rebellion, once and for all.
And then it hit me: Next year is a Quarter Quell. They have envelopes in a box in Snow's office for a special Hunger Games at each one. What if I could get in there and swap out the real 75th Quarter Quell envelope and replace it with a different one that would force Katniss to go back into the Arena?
But of course, I thought, my heart racing as smile slid onto my face. Snow would want Katniss dead too. Maybe I could take my suggestion to him!
Walking quickly, I made my way to Snow's office, waiting just outside the door.
I was about to knock when I heard Snow say, "This is your fault! All of it!"
Seneca was still inside, and by the sounds of it, he was pleading his case.
I snorted. He would never win an argument against Snow.
"Get out of my office," Snow ordered loudly. "Out! Now!"
There were quick footsteps and the doors burst open, revealing a disturbed looking Seneca. His eyes slid right over me as he walked by quickly.
Now was my chance.
The doors banged shut and, waiting another minute, I knocked three times.
A Peace-Keeper opened the doors.
"Who is it?" Snow demanded.
"Um, I have an idea, sir," I said, my voice small. I cleared it and spoke again, louder and clearer this time. "It's something that I think you'll be interested in."
I could see him sitting with his back to the rose garden, the gleaming cherry desk and several feet of polished oak floor separating us.
"And you are?" he asked, beckoning me inside.
"Just a tech, sir," I answered.
He motioned for me to take a seat.
"And what is this about?" he wondered as he fixed the white rose in his coat pocket.
"It's about next year's Hunger Games," I replied.
He fixed me with a beady stare.
"I hardly have time to think about that," Snow said stiffly. "If you have nothing useful to say, I suggest you leave now, while I still allow it."
"Wait," I begged, "please. Next year is the Quarter Quell."
"I am aware." I could see that he was beginning to lose his patience with me.
"Well," I said hurriedly, "we have those envelopes just for them. We can change next years and no one would know!"
Snow's eyes narrowed.
"I'm listening."
I exhaled in relief. "Sir, what if we changed next year's Quarter Quell to putting old victors back into the arena?"
Snow leaned forward, clearly intrigued by my suggestion.
"That would place Miss Everdeen back into the Games, sir, since she's the only female victor from District 12," I finished excitedly.
Snow leaned back in his chair, a pleased expression on his weathered face.
"Well, well," he said, "I'm impressed." He snapped his fingers at a Peace-Keeper, who nodded and picked up a small, square mahogany box where he placed it before the president.
Opening the box, Snow sifted around until he found the envelope labeled 75.
Handing it to me, he said, "I like the way you think."
I blushed, taking the envelope.
"The question is," he went on, sitting back in his chair once more, "is how to convince the District's and the Capitol alike to agree to sending back in beloved victors?"
"Persuasion," I answered.
Snow smiled widely at me and leaned forward. "Let's start planning the next Games, shall we?"