It started when Johanna was in the arena. Perhaps it was more of a ringing sensation, filling her ears as the forcefield shattered from above. When it happened, she was running away from Brutus and Enobaria. In the disorientation, it was hard to hear the hovercrafts approaching. She saw them when they appeared, and at first, she thought it was the Rebels. They were fulfilling their promises to save Katniss, right? Why wouldn't they get Johanna out, too? They owed her that much, for all the effort she went through to keep that knocked up teenager alive. So, logically, she let the hovercraft take her away from the disgusting, hot-as-hell arena. Better District 13 than a clocked-shaped, nightmare-filled rainforest that rained blood instead of actual rain.
Upon entering the hovercraft, she was relieved to see Peeta on board. He was laying unconscious, sure, but the rebels stated their plan on getting him out as well. The good news relieved Johanna, calming her suspicions, if only for a moment. She was safe. Lover boy was safe. So, where was Katniss? Where were the other Victors? Johanna wasn't delirious. She knew for a fact that she ripped the tracker out of the girl's arm. Given the fact that Johanna was far too busy running, she hadn't the time to get rid of her own tracker, or Peeta's, for that matter…
Wait. Her tracker was still inside of her, and so was Peeta's.
The realization hit her like a head-on collision, and before she even had the time to panic, to protest, to fight… Before she had the opportunity to do anything, she was knocked out of consciousness.
When Johanna survived her first Hunger Games, she was immediately given morphling for the injuries she'd sustained. This time around, things were completely different. They were pumping something into her; that much, she could tell, but it did nothing to stop the aches she had. It could've been a very low dosage of sedative. Nothing trustworthy, of course. She was stuck in a loop of fighting for awareness and slipping back into darkness. In between this, she was occasionally able to hear voices, to grasp fragments of conversations. The hovercraft was going somewhere.
It was going to the Capitol.
How long Johanna was sedated, she was not certain. The memories after her eavesdropping and clashing with nightmares were blurred, dulled. She was not weaned off the mystery drug they put her on. In fact, the bastards in charge of keeping her down had no problem with ripping the IV from her veins, leaving an ugly bruise on the back of her hand. She could remember rubbing the sore spot and spewing slurred profanities as a prep team gathered around her. Johanna could say-and, well, she already did say-a lot of horrible things about the Capitol, but she couldn't say they failed at gift-wrapping exhausted people. The extent her prep team went to beautify her was disgusting. It was only after the walking eyesores had forced her into a sleek, fancy-looking dress that she realized just why they had.
If the devil had a voice, it would be identical to that of Panem's President.
"Johanna Mason. How wonderful it is to see you again."
At that moment, Johanna was nothing short of seething. The animalistic instincts deep within the back of her mind told her to lunge. So, she did, and before she could wrap her arms around Snow's throat, as she so often dreamed of doing, she was restrained by two hefty Peacekeepers. Between her lips cried a noise of exertion-a high-pitched, nonetheless brief grunt that conveyed both fury and momentary pain.
"Well?!" her demand echoed throughout the luxurious Capitol room, "What the fuck do you want? What more can you possibly take from me?"
President Coriolanus Snow. What a piece of work. What an abhorrent, repulsive piece of work. He had already done so much to make Johanna's life a living Hell. What a history they shared, with her refusal to lose agency over her body and his demolishing of everyone she ever cared about. Even after the time that passed, he still had a way of staying so calm whenever she lost her temper. The way he now folded his hands over his lap, giving the smallest trace of a smirk behind that white beard of his only fueled her anger.
"Johanna," Snow started cooly, gesturing to the room around him, "I've brought you here to make a compromise with you. Have a seat."
A seat was the last thing she wanted to have. Of course, what she wanted didn't matter at all, when the Peacekeepers forced her into a cushy chair across from the President himself. Johanna kindly directed a loathing glare in his direction. "Really? Forgive me if I'm hesitant to do any business with you," She tapped her finger to her chin, as if she were recollecting something. "From what I remember, our last compromise was what lead to my entire family being roasted."
The President leaned toward Johanna, who was still struggling beneath the tight grip of the guards. He looked deep into her eyes, an uncomfortable stare that showed no sincerity. "I understand that we have had our little disagreements in the past. This is why I am giving you a second chance."
"A second chance for what?" the young woman let out a loud snicker, one that lacked a trace of humor to it, "Ruining my life again? Sorry, Snow, but I've got nothing left for you to take. My pockets are totally empty!"
The low chuckle that escaped Coriolanus was identically humorless, and he spoke with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "That's where you're wrong, Miss Mason. You have something that our dear Peeta doesn't."
A wave of dread sunk into her stomach at the mention of Peeta. She almost forgot. If Johanna was in the Capitol, so was he. Who knows what they could've been doing to him at that moment. From what Johanna could recall, the poor sap didn't share the knowledge she had. Knowledge of the rebellion. In that moment, it became very clear what Snow wanted, and it was clear from the smug look on the bastard's face that he noticed her realization. Her lack of a response was the perfect cue for Snow to continue. "You know all about our dearest Mockingjay."
Her heart was beating way too intensely. The color must've drained from her face, at this point, as Snow was very amusedly gauging her reaction. Johanna did all she could to mask the waver in her voice, her one-word response barely coming out strong, "So?"
"That is where our compromise begins, Johanna. You're going to tell me everything you know about Katniss Everdeen and the rebellion."
Giving a jerk of her bruising biceps that were still being clenched between Peacekeeper gloves, Johanna leaned back in her chair, folding her legs. Again, it took a world of effort not to appear tiny under the thick layer of intimidation that shrouded the room. "What if I don't?"
A grave quitness followed, and Johanna found herself holding still for once, watching Snow's chest rise and fall as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. There was an almost regretful tone in his voice, though it couldn't have been anything other than feigned. "I'm afraid we'll have to use force to get that information from you."
Johanna's lips turned upward into the most forceful smirk she could muster, giving one final, abrupt struggle of her held-down arms. She spat her words out like venom, annunciating them properly as she could ever manage, "You can go to Hell."
These were the last words she uttered before she was dragged, kicking and fighting, out of the President's living space.
As it happened, the Capitol had no intentions on wasting time with Johanna. As soon as she was pulled away from the President, she was lead to a prison-like chamber and slammed into a cell. It was inside of this cell that she was met with a chair that bore a morbid resemblance to what might've been used in an execution. She barely had the chance to question the machines hooked up to it before she was strapped into the chair.
"You're not getting anything out of me," Johanna called to the Peacekeepers as they walked out of the cell. Well, those straps weren't loosening anytime soon. She sighed to herself, closing her eyes. There was a lot of information on the Rebellion that she held. Her and the other Victors? They spent months planning, communicating out of Capitol earshot. If she gave away anything she knew to Snow, the whole rebellion could've been devastated. People could die. Entire Districts could be killed off. By agreeing to protect Katniss in the arena, she'd basically signed herself up for any kind of interrogation that came afterward. Fuck. This was going to be a long day.
A man entered the the cell. Johanna didn't recognize him; he had a hard-looking face, and a professional attire. The guy didn't exactly look like a sicko, but with Snow's threats, she doubted he had anything pleasant in store. He was silent as he fumbled with the machines behind her.
"Mister President probably didn't mention to you how useless this is going to be," Johanna spoke up, turning her head to the side in an attempt to face the man, "It doesn't matter if I know anything or not. I'm not sharing jack shit."
The back of the chair was too high for her to get a proper look at what was behind her, and the straps on her wrists and ankles kept her from standing up. All she heard was mystery man's cold, dry-sounding voice in response. "That's your opinion." He all but mumbled when he spoke. As he rattled with the equipment, he gave a long pause. "I believe that I can convince you otherwise."
There was a flick of a switch, and the room was filled with buzzing; loud, incessant buzzing that drew so close to her. Then, it came upon her, prickling against her scalp, running down her head. Johanna watched with dread as flakes of her once shoulder-length hair fluttered in front of her. She struggled against the restraints, her words nothing short of vulgar protests. "What are you doing?" she snarled, trying to lean away from the buzzing, "Stop that!" This resulted in a hand reaching forward, shoving the back of her head against the back of the chair. She was held down for the rest of the duration. Dark chunks of hair, some with hints of red, fell all around her. Onto the floor. Into her lap. Over her face. She fought against the inevitable, opening her mouth to let loose more profanity. Because of this, she even had to spit out pieces of her own hair. It was everywhere. It was terrible.
Buzzing. The sound didn't stop until the deed was done, and Johanna felt the cold air brush over her freshly bald head. Had the room suddenly become colder? Not that it mattered. She was beyond pissed, beyond terrified of what could possibly follow. Johanna looked around the cell-it was bright, somewhat roomy. She couldn't see what was going on behind her. Silence filled the room. Honestly, she had no thing to say. She was startled, if not humiliated. Though, losing her hair became the very least of her concerns as Snow's smug, old face holographically appeared before her. His voice sounded over an intercom. "Johanna," As he spoke, the man who shaved her attached something to her head. "I'm going to give you another opportunity to tell me everything."
She couldn't tell what was stuck to her, but she had a general idea. Simply thinking about what would happen put her on edge. In spite of being cleaned up by a prep team, she was already sweating again.
"Tell me what you know, and spare yourself the trouble."
Provided Snow was telling the truth, Johanna could spare herself the trouble. She could spare herself the pain, and the impending torture that would likely follow. She could walk out of the Capitol, untouched, save for her horrible new 'haircut'. The Districts would burn and crash, and she would be deemed a traitor. Everything that everyone in the resistance had worked for would be ultimately ruined. Was that worth sparing herself the trouble? Hell no, it wasn't. Nothing was worth throwing everything away. She wasn't so selfish that she'd let the deaths of her friends and family members, not to mention those of every losing tribute, be in vain.
If they tortured her, so be it. If she died in this cell, she would take her secrets with her to the grave. Her death would be a final fuck you to the entire Capitol. Considering how few reasons she had to live, it would work out, either way. At that moment, she promised herself she would not give in. She wouldn't let loose a single rebellion secret. The bastards responsible for ruining her life would never get the satisfaction of knowing.
Johanna's eyes were aflame with both determination and the purest form of hatred. "How about I tell you to go screw yourself."
That was when the buzzing returned, and the electricity began to pulse through her. Her entire body seized with the sudden pain it inflicted on her, filling the room with cries of pain. She clenched her jaw, trying to brave it. Honestly, she wasn't sure if she could. As this happened, Snow's dreadful voice continued.
"Do you remember the last time you refused to cooperate with me?" He sounded distorted. Faded. When Johanna tried to spit an insult in response, her words only came out as agonized wails. The only thing that really made sense was Snow's laughter, which didn't need language to be understood. More of his blurred words followed. "You have to understand that I don't intend to let you go unpunished for your crimes against the Capitol."
It took a lot of fighting against her clattering teeth for Johanna to produce a single-worded response. "No!" She shrieked, jerking against the straps that so tightly confined her. The skin under the belts was already fading into a reddish color. The electricity was so overwhelming. Don't give in. Don't give in. She couldn't give in. She couldn't see straight. She couldn't stop herself from yelping. She couldn't stand this.
"Turn it up." The President commanded, and her torturer obeyed. The buzzing grew louder. Johanna's pain grew sharper, disorientation taking over any clear thoughts. She was seeing flashing lights. Her entire body felt as if it were on fire. Her figure shook more violently, her voice raising in volume. "N-no," she called out, "Stop!"
It didn't stop until several minutes passed. Was it minutes? Or, was it only seconds? Measuring time was the last thing she cared about. She wanted out, now, but she knew that it just wasn't realistic. There was no way in Hell she'd take the easy way out of this. That simply wouldn't be worth it.
"Yes? Something you want to share with us?"
Johanna was silent, dealing with the spinning sensation in her sight. Her entire body ached, but above all, her head ached. It stung, first from the shave, and even more from the electrocution. She kept her eyes closed, panting heavily. Moments passed before she finally glared up at the holograph. Snow must have been getting so much pleasure out of this. That thought in itself doubled her revulsion. It took an intimidating glare from the man who tortured her for her to finally speak up. "I'm…" She still shook, in spite of the machines being turned off, and when she replied, her tone came out less aggressive than intended. "I-I'm not t-telling you anything!"
In spite of the pain she was in, Johanna kept her eyes focused on the monitor, her loathsome stare not ceasing for a moment. There was a pause, and the entire cell grew quiet. Even the President said nothing. That was, until he gave some sort of nodding signal, and the professional-looking sadist grabbed her by the jaw. He forced her mouth open with his fingers and shoved a mouthpiece between her teeth. When she tried to spit it out, she got a sharp slap to the face. The electricity returned. Her tremors were far more harsh. Her entire body was in agony. If her brain wasn't fried at that point, it probably would've been soon.
The second round of electricity lasted longer than the first. The mouthpiece kept her from biting off her own tongue-which, in itself, was fucking ironic, given the Capitol's tendency to mutilate tongues. It had airflow, though, and it did nothing to hinder her miserable cries. When that terrible, terrible round stopped, it was sudden and without any indication of its end. The flow of the electricity came to a halt. Johanna still writhed in pain. She didn't want to think about what her body had done during the seizures.
When the torturer took out the mouthpiece, she said nothing. Perhaps this was because she didn't want to give them the satisfaction of her response. Maybe it was because she was too drained of energy to manage more than another scowl. Either way, Snow gave the parting words.
"Have a good night, Miss Mason."
The hologram vanished, and the torturer walked out of the room without giving so much as a glance at Johanna. The room was silent, save for the sound of her ragged breathing, rhythmic and harsh. Her throat stung from so many loud vocalizations, her head throbbed as she tried to grasp the current situation. Consciousness was hard to hold onto, but the bright fluorescent lights above kept her awake.
Aside from her horrible dizziness and seizing, Johanna was no less herself. That was to say, she was already miserable, but enraged as ever. The Capitol had no right to do this to her. They had no right to do anything they did. There was something vastly fucking wrong with a country that needed a rebellion, in the first place. Shit. Wherever the hell Katniss was, she better have been alive. This all had to mean something. As it was, Johanna's memories of rebellion secrets were beginning to get a bit hazy. Those weren't the only thoughts of hers that were.
To make matters worse, the lights never went out. Hours flew by, and the light stayed on, never even bothering to flicker or die out. Telling time was out of the question, now that she was vaguely curious about it. Johanna spent a while staring at the wall, and what felt like an hour or so attempting to wiggle free from the chair. It was hard, and uncomfortable, much like the rest of the torture cell. Trying to get loose did nothing. After another go at failing to break free, she sighed in defeat, propping her head against the back of the chair. She closed her eyes, taking in the reality of the scene. This was it. Everything was downhill from there. Currently, she was far too tired to start devising an escape plan. So, Johanna sat in silence and soreness. Perhaps her dreams would have mercy on her tonight.
It felt like forever before Johanna was able to doze off. Sleep had just begun to take her into nightmares that were, surprisingly, more pleasant than her interrogation. At least there were no electrodes in her subconscious. Her dreams would be the only escape from what was ahead. They were a little less horrible, and she could accept that.
Then, the noise started, and Johanna was torn from her drowse. It started with voices in the cell beside her, and it grew in volume, turning into cries lower in pitch than her own.
Even in the night, there was no solace. For, after Johanna's own cacophony of horror began the screams of Peeta Mellark.