A/N: Hey everyone! I'm SilverAquaTrident (but I think you might have figured that out by now), and I'm writing this one-shot for the October Starvation Monthly One-Shot Challenge prompt, 'Fallen and Forgotten'. I hope you enjoy it, and remember, reviews are appreciated! :D
This is the Reaping of the boy tribute from District 10 (74th HG). Age, appearance, etc. are OFF-CANON. So when reading about him, don't picture the District 10 tribute in the movie, and don't picture the female tribute the same way, either.
Disclaimer: this one-shot is pretty far-fetched, considerably absurd, and downright strange. It is not believable, realistic, nor plausible. It's just a little idea that popped into my head that I decided to write off of. If you are the kind of person who strictly believes in fancfics that are completely canon and plausible, then you might not like this.
But to all the rest of you, well...
Enjoy!
P.S. To those of you who are following my multi-chap Queen, Protector, Warrior, and Serpent, the tributes in this one-shot correspond to QPWS. So, when I mention these tributes in QPWS, picture these ones. :D
My name is Keaton
I was but fourteen
When the Capitol's wrath murdered me.
One horrid training day, while scaling a wall,
My fingers slipped; I endured a horrid fall.
The tributes cackled and laughed, what glee, what a show
It was to watch the now-crippled boy moan.
Yet in the times before I lost the fame and the glory
I had a tale, an untold story.
I had a passion to get back home
That declined, like me, to dust and bones.
Here is my story, that to the world I shall share
Perhaps someone will read it, if anyone cares.
So here I begin my story worth keeping;
You see, the nightmare began with the day of the Reaping...
Droplets of sweat form on the boy's brow, dripping to the ground as fast as the drops of rain plummeting from the overcast sky. The sounds of stomping boots from behind him fill his ears as he sprints with all his might, panting from the weight of the canvas sack he slung over his right shoulder. A burst of thunder resonates through the open plain, crackles of lightning illuminating the pitch black storm clouds. His legs ache, his ears ring, his face stings from the raindrops pelting upon it, but he must keep going, he must outrun the Peacekeepers - after all, his life depends on it.
That charming, handsome, clever young boy happens to be District 10's most wanted criminal.
That charming, handsome, clever young boy also happens to be me.
I chuckle as I hear the bumbling Peacekeepers crying out with anguish as they trip over some stray barrels. I've always found it amazing how low the intellect of our Peacekeepers is. When they try to catch me, they never sneak, they never hide, they never use a single clever tactic - all they do is run after me, hollering obscenities and empty death threats. In fact, they can barely even run. All the stolen meat they consume from the ranches fattens them up so much that all they can do is keep up a light jog. You can hear them coming from a mile away; their tread is so loud that it's like someone's whacking another person over and over again with a whip. And believe me, that makes quite a bit of noise. Take it from the boy who's had that experience firsthand, and not as the whipper.
Even more amusing than the Peacekeepers' stupidity is that I've been on the run since I was about ten, and they haven't been able to catch me. That's four years of holding the title of the most notorious thief in the whole district. It's quite an honor, really. And it's an honor that I plan to uphold for the time being.
Now I can hear the blundering idiots attempting to get themselves organized into formation again. Apparently they're arguing about whether or not to break out their guns. The district officials would prefer if I was captured alive, probably to make an example of me, and then execute me in public, but the Peacekeepers probably don't care. Either way, it doesn't make much of a difference - it's a well-known fact that the Peacekeepers here are awful at shooting, and honestly, I'd be more worried if they were aiming somewhere next to me. The Capitol doesn't bother sending the good Peacekeepers to 10, because the Capitol doesn't like us that much, even though we supply every last bit of the meat those gluts stuff themselves with.
I'm getting farther and farther away from the disgruntled Peacekeepers, but from what I hear, they've decided that it's time to get out the guns. I let out a disdainful snort. Every time they've tried to target me with their guns, they've always ended up shooting some poor cows or poultry, which usually gets them into trouble. Nevertheless, evidently they're still trying for a lost cause.
Really, I'm surprised that the Capitol hasn't sent a slightly more elite group of Peacekeepers to catch my fellow thieves and I. We're known across the district as the Bandits, the Robbers, the "Them dagnabbit teenagers!" - pretty much any synonym of 'thief'. But we prefer "the Swindlers", just because it has a nicer ring to it than "Cattle Rustlers", which is how we're sometimes referred to. We're basically a group of rebellious, runaway kids, with an age range of 11-14, that steals what we need to survive. Once we realized that no one in 10 will throw their scraps to a bunch of street rats, our only option was to steal. In four years, we went from a group of two sneaky pickpocketers to a full-fledged network of famed outlaws. We steal all the necessities, from coins to food to mattresses to weapons. Not only have we acquired a baby goat and three chickens, but we also have knives, axes, and we even managed to get a hold of three Peacekeepers' guns.
I steal a quick glance behind me and find that the Peacekeepers are now digging their guns out of their bags. Chances are they won't hit me, and the heavy rain will help blind them, but just to be safe I duck into an old shed, flattening myself against the mildew-covered interior wall. Sure enough, the Peacekeepers march right past the shed, obviously blinded by the rain, which is now blowing almost horizontally from the strong wind. Strange, we almost never get storms in the morning. Heavy storms are extremely common here on the prairie, and so are tornadoes. A few years ago, the Justice Building was completely demolished by the strongest tornado we've ever remembered having. Luckily, that was before the Swindlers was formed, so there was no loot to get destroyed.
I slide down onto the straw-covered ground, taking a minute to catch my breath. My leather jacket, worn-out pants, gloves, and sturdy black boots are all completely soaked through, dripping rain onto the scratchy straw. The chilling winds are cold, a bitter cold that District 10 doesn't usually have to put up with. Forcing myself to ignore the numbness burning through my palms, I pull open the heavy canvas sack that I stuffed today's loot in. The canvas is damp, but not dripping excessively like my clothing. I peer inside, then empty out the bag onto the straw.
A grin forms across my freezing cheeks. Today's haul isn't bad, not bad at all. A beaded necklace, a wooden flute, some wool, a few chunks of paraffin, a small bag of rice, a needle and three spools of thread, and - I nearly let out a gasp. Gold coins. There're so many of them, enough to buy a goat - then again, we don't typically buy anything, we could just steal the goat - and plenty for bribery purposes.
The location of this morning's heist was one of the best spots for looting - the Mayor's house. That place is probably loaded with enough treasure to feed three meals per day to a family of eight for three years, not counting the innumerable coins and food. Also, its numerous trapdoors and secret passageways are extremely useful, because I know my way around them. Why, you ask?
Because, for the first ten years of my life, that's where I lived.
I almost never admit it, but yes, I'm the prime example of what a Mayor's son should not be. After my mom died, my shame of a father, Maxwell Auburn, went literally insane with grief, and he whipped me daily and, more often than not, fed me one measly "supper" of stale bread per day. That was the only food I'd get, along with a tiny mug containing a few sips of whiskey. "Ya little darn failure!" he'd scream in one of his drunken rages. "Ah wish Ah'd never born mahself such a pathetic disgrace of a boy." Then he'd start throwing empty whiskey bottles at me, and I'd run to my room and lock the door while he banged on it, screaming profanity at me.
It's not like those insults hurt my feelings; quite frankly, they had completely opposite effect on me. Coming from such a dimwitted pile of crap like him, they practically bounced right off me. But I was sick of having to scrounge food scraps out of the dumpsters, sick of the stinging marks on my back concealed by my tattered shirt, sick of being surrounded by immense riches yet being treated like a lowly slave boy, sick of trying in vain to pry open the padlocked food cabinets. So one night, I packed a small satchel with a flask of water and some soggy pieces of bread. And I ran. I ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, pushing myself as far away as possible from the hellhole where the drunken mayor was sprawled unconscious in the middle of the dining room, where whiskey bottles and tattered memories lay strewn along the dusty floors.
To this day, I can't stand to call him my father. I hate him more than anything; the loathing I feel when I hear his name chills my bones. It's as if by being my father, he tied a large sign to my back that says in big bold letters, "SON OF A DRUNK". Never, not once, have I regretted running away.
I think back to that night, the night where my new, glorious life came into shape...
I had sprinted for the first ten minutes of my escape, aching to make sure that the house of terrors was out of my line of sight. Out of sight, out of mind, the disgusting old Mayor used to always remind me whenever I would lose something - at least, before he went insane. After that, he wouldn't give a crap if I lost the Auburn family's entire fortune, as long as he had enough money for five large bottles of whiskey to drink every day. Anyway, I assumed that that old adage of his applied to my current situation at the time. Not once did I look back at the baby-blue wooden house that marked the horizon with its three floors and attic. It was time to say goodbye to the hoarded riches and broken glass, to the bloodied scars and red lash marks. It was time to fly away, once and for all.
After awhile, my legs began to ache, my throat began to burn. I had slowed my pace to a steady jog, and kept it up for as long as my stamina permitted. I wasn't aware of how much time had passed; I was too busy running, flying away free, like a bird locked in a metal cage set free.
Even though I was an excellent runner, I grew tired after what probably was a very long time. My water flask was nearly empty, as I had taken small sips while still jogging. Panting and heaving, I reluctantly drained the last few drops of my flask and slumped down onto the grass in the meadow where I had stopped. A feeling of despair spread through me like a slow-acting poison, tingling through my veins and up my aching spine. I had packed a good amount of supplies, but I never estimated that I would be dying of as much thirst as I was at that moment. I had let out a dejected sigh; I guessed I would have to grit my teeth and stick it out till morning. So there I sat, fiddling with a few small wildflowers, trying to keep my mind off my insatiable thirst, hoping it might fade after a while. But my attempt came to no avail; the thirst burned in my dry throat, burned in my cracked lips, burned like fire dancing its way through the trees. Letting out a quiet moan, I rested my head on a patch of clovers and closed my eyes, succumbing to the depths of slumber...
"AH!"
My eyes shot open as something cold and damp splashed onto me. For a split second, I thought the dimwitted drunkard had spilled some whiskey on me, but as my vision grew clearer, I remembered that I was no longer sleeping in the cot in the attic under the musty-smelling blankets. I was in the middle of a forsaken meadow, with no food, no water, and dying of thirst.
It was still night time, and the air was cold and crisp, even colder with the wetness of my shirt, where the mysterious water splashed me. Was it raining? No, definitely not. It was a clear night, and I felt no drips of water pelting onto my skin except for the ones dripping from the ends of my shirt. But if it wasn't raining, what splashed me?
"Wipe that scowl off your face! I lugged this barrel of water for a mile just because you looked like you were about to die, so you could at least show a bit of gratitude!"
I nearly jumped sky-high, and I whirled around to see the source of the voice.
Standing before me was a young girl, about my age. Her long, wavy, dark auburn hair was tied into a messy ponytail, and her icy blue eyes seemed to glow dangerously in the beams of moonlight. She wore a black leather hunting jacket, black pants, and black boots, all of which were worn-out and shabby. A shiny glint of metal caught my eye, and my eyes followed it and saw that she held an ax at her side. This unsettled me a bit; we were only kids, how did she know how to use an ax? And...would I be her target? Something about her deep scowl and ominous glare didn't exactly calm my nerves.
"Who are you?" I managed to get out, my legs cramping as I stood up and stretched them out. "And why are you bothering me?"
"Bothering you?!" she hissed. Her electric blue eyes widened with rage. Without warning, she stepped toward me and struck my face with her hand. Pain erupted in my cheek, and I cowered forward, straining not to topple over. I'd endured some pretty harsh slaps before, but this girl had obviously accomplished the art of disfiguring people's right cheeks.
"I saved your freaking life!" she hissed with rage again, gesturing wildly with her hands. "I saw you in the meadow, and you looked like you were about to die of thirst - I know the signs - so I went all the way to the well and got you some water, and this is the thanks I get?!"
"Well, why did you help me?" I retorted. "You could have just kept on walking and minded your own business!"
The girl huffed with obvious exasperation. "Because, I thought you might be another -" She paused, pursing her lips almost as if she had just spilled an extremely important secret. "Never mind," she muttered, still glaring at me.
"What is it?" I asked, filled to the brim with curiosity.
"It's nothing!" she snapped. "Do you have to pry into my business?"
"I don't think you should be talking, after you dumped like twenty gallons of water on a complete stranger."
"I saved your life!"
"Well, good for you, but you should have just kept on walking!"
"No!"
"Why?"
"Because I couldn't!"
"Why do you care so much about whether I live or die, anyway?"
"For the last time, I'm not telling you!"
Whatever she was hiding from me, I had felt an urge to find out what it was. I reached out and snatched the ax out of her hand, holding it behind my back.
"Give it back!" the girl cried, her voice transitioning from a hiss to a yell. She stepped forward and tried to make a grab for it, but I grasped it tightly. "That's mine! Give it!"
I shook my head firmly, looking her straight in the eyes. "Not until you tell me what you were about to say before."
The girl seemed conflicted for a moment, weighing her options. By the way she stared with longing at the ax, I could tell it was a prized possession of hers. Yet she seemed determined to keep the secret. Finally she sighed and pursed her lips. "Fine," she said quietly, her voice bitter. "You really want to know, don't you? Well, I'll tell you, but you will give me back my ax, understand?"
I nodded, almost grinning with excitement. I didn't know why I was so determined to know her secret, but nevertheless, I felt an urgent craving to find out what it was right then and there. The girl plopped down on the ground, and I sat down across from her.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then began to speak, slowly, cautiously.
"My and my sisters were abandoned on the street when I was five. We fended for ourselves for a few years, and we stuck together until they were killed in the big tornado. After a while, when I was eight, a group of thieves found me and took care of me. I was with them up until two months ago, when the Peacekeepers found them, arrested them, and confiscated all their loot. Last month I found out that they were all taken to the Capitol and Avoxed. So here I am, scrounging up whatever food I can, stealing what I need to survive, with all my family and friends dead or gone. I saved you because I thought you might be another thief, but obviously I was wrong, you're just a stupid town boy. You happy now?"
My eyes flickered away from her gaze; she stared at me with extreme intensity, almost as if she was trying to delve into my soul. It unsettled me almost as much as the story of her life. At the time, I was far more warmhearted than I am now; a lump began to form in my throat. It must have been awful to have been left by everyone you loved, and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, the people who took care of you get Avoxed. In a way, her weighty past resembled mine a bit. At that moment, I began to feel sort of a small connection with the girl, even though I had only seen her for three minutes. It felt nice to know that someone else's life sucked, not just mine.
As I opened my mouth to speak, the girl held up her hand. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking. 'Oh, how hard that must have been for her, she had such a troubled past, the poor little thing'. Well, cut it out, because I don't want your pity. I don't want anyone to feel sympathy for me, let alone pity." She spat the word 'pity' with such disgust that it seemed as if she was mentioning an old enemy.
Maybe that wouldn't have made sense to someone else, but I knew exactly what she meant. If there's anything that I hated, it was when people pitied me, the 'poor little Mayor's son'. It would irk me so much that I just wanted to scream at the pitiers, "Get away from me, you freakish dimwits!" But instead, I would just slink on by, keeping my face without emotion even when passersby gasped at the slap marks that often scarred my face.
"Don't worry," I replied. "I don't like being pitied either. And - wait...so you mentioned that you were with a band of thieves?" The idea had caught my attention as soon as she had mentioned it a minute ago.
Quick as a serpent snatching up a mouse, the girl snatched her ax out of my hand. I yelped with alarm as she held the blade to my chest. "Oh, are you about to run to the Peacekeepers and tell on me?" she hissed, her lips tickling my ear. "Because if that's your plan, then you'll have to fight off a girl with an ax unarmed in order to accomplish it."
"Nah," I answered, trying my hardest to keep the nervous waver out of my voice. "That'd be a bit stupid. And no, I'm not an informer, I just ran away from home myself. I...I'm the Mayor's son."
The words tasted bitter on my tongue, as if someone sprinkled old coffee grounds onto it. I've never actually told anyone that I was the Mayor's son; everyone already knew that. Strangely, it seemed like I was letting out one of my deepest, darkest secrets to this girl.
Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me for any sign of untruthfulness. Evidently, she realized that I wasn't lying, and I saw her tense muscles relax. "Well, rich boy, it's about time you ran away. How are you gonna make a living? Are you planning on getting a job, or are you going to man up and do the wise thing?"
"What's the wise thing?" I asked.
A glint of mischievousness appeared in her eyes. "Thievery," she answered. "Take it from the girl who's fended for herself since she was five. You'll never get anywhere in life if you're a honest, just, honorable person. You have to be able to lie, steal, manipulate, and cheat without blinking an eye. It sounds cruel, but after a few months of it, your heart hardens, and you don't feel guilty about it anymore. It becomes almost like a daily routine."
A smirk began to form across my lips. "I like the sound of that."
"Good," the girl said smugly, a small smile curving up the corners of her mouth. "Because we're going to be allies, and I'm going to teach you how to steal, whether you like it or not."
"I like the sound of that, too," I replied. "Wait, I forgot to ask - what's your name?"
The girl raised her eyebrows. "Just...just call me Aries."
"Aries," I repeated. I liked that name; it was quite pleasant, even with its eccentricity. "Well, my name is -"
"No!" Aries interrupted. "I don't even want to know. Once you run away from home, your birth name doesn't matter anymore. A birth name isn't who you are, it's how other people decide to lable you. Part of the glory of becoming a thief is choosing your own real name. So who will you be?"
"Uh..." This took quite some thought. I needed a good name, a name that would compliment my cunning, cleverness, and not to mention my striking good looks. However, I didn't realize that I possessed those traits at the time, so I was clueless. "Peter? Bob? Rocky? Nathaniel?"
Aries let out a snort. "Nathaniel? You need some serious help." Then she did it again - she stared into my eyes in that creepy way that sent shivers down my spine. Looking into her eyes was so intense that it was almost like looking into two pools of mist, mist that would spill out and consume me if I didn't watch my back.
"Capricorn," she announced suddenly. "Your new name is Capricorn."
Capricorn. I liked the sound of it. Somehow it fit me: the sound of it bounced back and forth pleasantly through my skull, resonating over and over again. Capricorn. How she came up with such a fitting name, I've never found out. But no matter what, Capricorn was my new name, and to this day it still is.
"Yeah," I responded. "I like that name. So...are we allies then?"
Aries extended her hand, and I grasped it firmly, shaking it in a business-like manner. "Till we take our last breaths."
"Capricorn? Capricorn! Answer me right now! If you're dead, I'll kill you! Capricorn, are you there? Hey! Hello? Hello?"
I'm snapped out of my long, dream-like reverie as the walkie-talkie strapped to my belt begins buzzing with a female's voice. Yes, we've set up a walkie-talkie network among the Swindlers. Awhile back, Gemini, the clumsy technology whiz who ran from working as a maintenance boy at the Peacekeeper HQ and found us, took some walkie-talkies we stole from the Peacekeepers and somehow rigged them to create a full walkie-talkie network. There are five walkie-talkies, all of which are linked together, so we can constantly keep in touch while on raids. Sure, the sound quality is rather low, and you can only use them from up to a certain distance, and every now and then a burst of static comes and knocks out the sound all together, but it's better than nothing. I doubt any other band of young teenage thieves has a radio communications network.
I hold down the worn blue button in the center. "All clear, Aries. The goat is in the meadow."
We have to use vague phrases like that to keep our communications safe. "The goat is in the meadow" is code for "This is Capricorn, I'm safe, and I have the loot". About a month after Gemini rigged the walkie-talkies, we had a problem with the Peacekeepers interrupting the radio waves and hearing all of our communications, which revealed our position on a raid. Every since then, we've been careful about what we say in case the Peacekeepers intercept the radio waves again. After all, Gemini can only do so much with a bunch of old walkie-talkies, and we can't really stop the Peacekeepers from listening in.
I swear I can hear Aries sighing with relief. "Good. The animals are in the stable," - This means all the Swindlers are safe at our hideout - "except for Cancer. Cancer, is the crab in the meadow?"
"Yes, the crab is in the meadow," the unmistakable voice of Cancer replies. "I hope y'all are doin' okay!"
Ugh, Cancer. He gets on my nerves quite a bit. Cancer is 13 years old with an IQ level of negative 13. His sentimentality and annoyingly kind demeanor constantly make my skin begin to crawl. Awhile ago, he came back to the hideout with six cuts, a black eye, and two broken ribs after falling off a roof that he was scaling, and he was still grinning like a maniac. He really doesn't like stealing things, though; one time, he came back from his first raid empty-handed. When we asked him why, he said that he returned all of it to the poor old lady from whom he had stole the loot from, because "It was such a purty scarf, and I didn't want her to not have it!" Now we mostly just use him as a scout, which basically means that he strolls down the streets like a normal person, spying on the Peacekeeper HQ to report back to us whether or not it's safe to raid.
"Did you find any good intel?" Aries inquires.
Cancer's next statement proves exactly why he cannot be considered a man:
"Yeppity-doo-dah, precious!"
I just know that Aries is performing a dramatic eye-roll at this second. "Well, tell me about it when we get back to HQ. And that's "ma'am" to you, not "precious". If you call me 'precious' one more time, you'll get to meet my precious ax."
"Y-yes, precious!" Cancer stutters. "I mean, yes, darling! I mean, yes, sugar! I mean -"
"Shut up!" Aries snaps. "Capricorn, you need to report to HQ as soon as you can. We need to head to the Reaping in a little while."
A sinking feeling comes into my stomach. The Reaping. The absolute worst time of the year. With the distraction of my raid, I completely forgot that the dreaded Reaping was today.
The Hunger Games are the most stupid thing I've ever heard of besides the Capitol and Cancer. What's the point of it? It doesn't help subdue the districts. It only fuels our thirst for rebellion, and though no one mentions it out loud, everyone knows that the districts will overthrow the Capitol eventually. There will be a revolution, whether it'll happen in the next day, the next year, or the next century.
The Capitol displays the tributes as cows raised for slaughter. They showcase them, adore them, send barrels of money to them, then laugh when someone beheads them. In fact, the Hunger Games should just be for Districts 1, 2, and 4, because the Capitol loves them so much that they train them for their whole lives. It's not fair; the Careers are always incredibly stupid, but they're so trained up that they win constantly. The tributes from our district are always scared, dimwitted ranch kids with obscenely big buckteeth and obscenely small intellect. They tend to last longer than the other outlying districts in the Games because of their knowledge of lassos and whips, but it's their stupidity that's always their downfall.
If I were Reaped, I'd probably win, but it wouldn't be worth it. We're already pretty well-off, even though we're the most wanted criminals in the district. We don't need the immense riches that come with being a Victor. And who wants to be a Victor, anyway? Take a look at Aurora Gray and the other Morphling addicts from 6 and the drunk Haymitch Abernathy from 12, and you'll see what I mean.
"Copy that," I respond to Aries. "I'll be there in a few minutes. Just shook some Hogs" - that's code for Peacekeepers- "off my tail."
"Good," she says. "You -"
Her speech becomes garbled, and soon is replaced by static. A burst of thunder shakes the ground, and I drop the walkie-talkie to cover my ears.
It figures that the walkie-talkie blacked out. The reception in this past conversation has been better than it usually is during thunderstorms, but it was only a matter of time before the connection went down.
It's also only a matter of time before the Peacekeepers will discover that they're not chasing me anymore. Then again, being the Peacekeepers, it will probably take at least a few hours.
I shove the loot back into my sack, adjust the scythe in my belt (courtesy of the Peacekeeper HQ), and cautiously step out of the shed.
A burst of wind meets my face, the raindrops stinging my cheeks. I nearly stagger back, but I hold my ground, using all my might to resist the gusts. I whip my head around, searching for any sign of the Peacekeepers. Luckily, I hear nothing, only the howling of the wind and the deep rumbles of thunder.
Glancing carefully around me to make sure no one else is in sight, I prepare to sprint across the open field, dotted with only a few trees. One, two, three...
I take off, my legs traveling as fast as the lightning lining the jet black storm clouds. I run, and run, and run, adrenaline coursing through me, the sound of my heart pounding in my ears seeming to resonate throughout the barren plain. I sprint at top speed, blowing a strand of dark hair out of my line of vision. I slow down only when the tall chain link fence begins to line the stormy horizon.
District 10 is basically a large plateau that slopes down, and the fence that theoretically borders the district surrounds the top edge of it. The plateau begins to slope down literally a few yards outside the fence. There's a considerably gentle slope from there which suddenly drops off into an extremely steep slope. Right before the steep slope begins is a sort of a large, flat area filled with lush trees and lots of game. That's where our hideout is located. It's the perfect place - it's an easy hike back to the fence to enter the district again, it's well conceled, and there's plenty of fruit and forest. Stepping through the fence is like entering another world entirely.
Now, how do we manage to get outside the fence, you ask? Well, Gemini told us that a few years ago when he was roaming the streets alone, he had been trying to get past the high-voltage chain link fence to go live in the forest and forage for food. Then there was a large brush fire on the prairie, which severely weakened a small section of the fence. The officials never bothered to fix it; they probably thought that the concept of an electrocuted fence would scare everyone into not going near it. Soon after the fire, there was a blackout, so Gemini decided to try his hand at getting through the weak spot of the fence, which could carry no electricity. It worked, and he discovered the slope of the plateau and the forest on the flat spot. When he found the Swindlers (which consisted of only Aries and me at the time), he suggested that spot for our hideout, and that has been our HQ for the past four years.
Once I reach the fence, I carefully sidestep the rock that marks the trigger for the trap that guards the fence. Gemini had lined the perimeter of the fence with simple traps that, when activated, can cause severe damage to the target's leg. We took this precaution in case the Peacekeepers really do ever end up trying to fix the fence, which is very unlikely. To make the weakness in the chain links less conspicuous, we simply hooked some of the links back together and made sort of a doorway to enter through. Besides, there's an abandoned shed in front of it, so it's hard to see, anyway.
I push open the chain links and crawl past the fence, not stopping to look around this time; I'm too eager to get to HQ and show the others the loot. I jog down the hill until our cabin is in sight. We built the cabin right after we claimed this place as our hideout. It took quite a while to finish; we had to acquire a chainsaw from the Peacekeeper HQ, where we get all of our weapons. None of us really knew anything about cutting lumber, so we basically just cut some notches in some logs, put them together, and made four walls with a large piece of tarp as the roof. It's actually quite roomy, and one of our main projects is expanding the cabin so that we don't have to take turns sleeping inside of it.
I slow my pace to a light jog to analyze the state of our hideout. Everyone is doing their usual work; rain doesn't stifle us, in fact, we take advantage of it to use for water supply. Luckily, the rain has let up quite a bit, and now it's simpy drizzling.
Sagittarius is sorting food supplies, glancing around then popping some berries into his mouth every now and then. Sagittarius is pretty much the party animal of the group; he's always dancing around, making funny faces, telling jokes, and making everyone laugh with his witty humor. He's also an excellent storyteller.
Aquarius is painting swirling designs on the cabin. I really didn't want her to do that; it might make the cabin more conspicuous, but she rambled on and on about how the world needs more creativity. Finally I gave her permission, provided that the colors are strictly camoflauge to blend in with the trees. Aquarius is the "wise" one, and she's always making deep philosophies about the meaning of life, which is not exactly the most typical activity for a 14-year-old. She's also extremely imaginative and whimsical, and oftentimes she'll just sit there and play the cello that she stole, composing songs for hours on end. Cellos are quite hard to steal, especially with their large size and considerably heavy weight, but she managed to pull it off. Our hideout is so far down from the fence that no one can hear it, and besides, it's not like anyone goes near the fence, anyway.
Through the window of the cabin, I can see that Taurus is handing out disguises for the Reaping today, while somehow simultaneously tying her dirty-blonde hair into a ponytail. Taurus is extremely flashy and funky, and she can be a total airhead at times. But her disguises are so clever that it doesn't hurt to have her around.
Scorpio and Virgo are holding water jugs up to the sky to catch the raindrops and, as usual, are having yet another debate. Scorpio is, along with myself, the best speaker of the Swindlers. He can persuade someone to do pretty much anything, which is a very useful skill for us. I've assigned him as the man-on-the-street, which means he squeezes useful information out of various citizens without seeming suspicious. Virgo is Aquarius's twin brother. He's the debater of the group; he has always has valid arguments about the world's issues, and yet he relays them very calmly. He's not as whimsical as his sister, but he still ponders things a lot. His and Scorpio's debates are quite entertaining, and they go on forever and ever.
Libra and Pisces seem to be having a very deep conversation while at the same time weaving extra sleeping mats out of long strands of grass. Libra might as well be a counselor; she's very warm and fuzzy, and she's always going around and giving advice to everyone. When some weakling is feeling crappy about not having a parent or whatever (usually Cancer or Pisces), she's the one who always puts her arm around their shoulder and gives them a pep talk. Her excessive optimism can get irritating sometimes.
If Cancer's excruciating kindness isn't annoying enough for you, there's always Pisces, who's his cousin. Pisces is nervous and fidgety, a bit like Gemini, but with far less intellect. He's very emotional and sympathetic. Libra considers him her "little apprentice", and she basically teaches him to give advice and be all understanding and whatnot. Really, the only use we have for him here is that he's the fastest sprinter.
But the only sight that gives me the least bit of excitement is Aries, leaning against the wall of the cabin and hollering an order at Sagittarius, to which he gulps and puts down the handful of berries he was about to cram into his mouth. Even in the dark gloom, her long, wavy auburn hair shines, tied up in a messy ponytail. Those stormy blue eyes are brighter than usual; they always seem to electrify during thunderstorms. Even though she currently has no need to, she wears the Swindlers' signature black mask. It's not exactly a mask; it's a strip of black leather with two eye-holes that goes over the eyes and ties in the back of the head. Each of us have one, and I happen to be wearing mine right now. We usually only wear it to conceal our features while on raids, but she still wears it a lot of the time, though I don't know why.
None of the Swindlers notice me until I whistle a set of six notes, which we use as our signal during various raids. They all whip their heads around instinctively, and most of them whoop and cheer. Aries makes eye contact with me and smirks. "You're not dead."
"Nice to see you too," I mutter. "Well, everyone, I've managed to loot the Mayor's house yet again. We have dinner for after the Reaping, random knick-knacks, thread and a needle for Taurus, a wooden flute, and enough coins to last us for a long time!
The corner of my lip curls up with satisfaction as they cheer again and beg to see the contents of the bag. I hold up my hand.
"Hey, hey, patience," I remind them. "The cattle who bray get the smallest share of hay."
I catch a few of their lips curl into pouts. I know that deep down inside, all of them hold a certain respect for me. Who wouldn't, when they have such a brilliant, cunning leader? When I talk to them, I talk very smoothly and with evident cockiness, and I emanate an almost relaxed sort of swagger. However, they are very much aware that not following orders will result in punishment. The only one who is above this rule is Aries, as she's the other leader, and I would never boss someone around who possesses such intellect, cunning, and cleverness. Besides, it's not like she would follow my orders, anyway.
"Here, I'll make it a surprise," I continue. "After the Reaping, I'll show the loot to you all, and we'll split it equally as usual."
I have to stifle a snort. I never split the loot equally. No matter who brought back the loot, I always give Aries and I slightly more than our share. Sure, it might not be fair, but being a just leader never gets you anywhere. That's another lesson I've learned over the years.
The Swindlers murmur with excitement, while Aries rolls her eyes. I think she finds it annoying when I talk in a patronizing tone to them.
"Taurus has your disguise," Aries says, scowling slightly but obviously glad to see that I'm alive and well. "You might want to go get it."
The low murmur of conversation returns as I head over to Taurus' table, making small talk with her about the disguises. Well, they aren't exactly disguises; they're just normal clothes, clothes that would belong to your average dimwitted ranch kid. When we go to the Reaping, we don't act suspicious. There's no black masks, heavy cloaks, or hair that's well-hidden. The least possible thing we want to happen at the Reaping is for someone to suspect us of being the Swindlers. So we dress as if we're not trying to act inconspicuous. See, no one knows what any of us actually look like. Even on the "Wanted" posters scattered around the district with our faces printed on them, we're wearing our black masks, and most of our features are well-disguised.
Of course, when we go to the Reaping, it gets more complicated than disguises. We have to sign in. For that problem, we just use our birth names. They don't know that the kids who go by those names are part of a group of criminal masterminds. We're listed on the "Wanted" posters as "Capricorn", or "Aries", or "Cancer" or whatnot. That's all they know us by.
Finally, I make my selection from Taurus' large pile of old (and stolen) farm clothing. It's a tattered black shirt and ripped jeans; I'll just wear my usual black boots. "I like it," Taurus comments, nodding her head approvingly. "The black complements your hair, kinda gives it a sleek yet rugged look. Very farm-boyish, but at the same time, it's kinda sexy."
I chuckle. "Oh, Taurus, when do I not look sexy?" I joke. As sort of a reward for the good disguise, I slip her the needle and thread from my sack, to which she covers her mouth to stifle her shriek of joy.
The 12-year-old is bright and jovial as usual, but her muscles are tensed up, and her hazel eyes have sort of a hollow look to them. She's probably nervous about her first Reaping. No, not because of the fact that she might get Reaped; we don't put in tesserae because we have plenty of food to go around. She's nervous because she could suffer the same fate as Leo did two years ago.
We almost never talk about Leo nowadays. Though I'm not that affected by it, it's a painful subject for a lot of the Swindlers. Leo was a member of the Swindlers, and also Sagittarius' girlfriend. They were inseparable, and they were so much alike that it was almost scary. Like her boyfriend, Leo could dream up great stories, could make good puns, and was downright hilarious in general. To add to that, she wasn't a bad thief. In general, she was a good asset to the Swindlers.
Then she was Reaped for the 72nd Hunger Games.
It was ridiculous, unheard of, completely unexpected. She had one slip in that Reaping bowl, just one. The odds were in her favor. But she held her head high and stayed calm, just like a Swindler should. She had some experience with a spear, and we thought that maybe, just maybe, she could come back home to us.
And she almost did. Leo made it to the final five tributes, the farthest a twelve-year-old has gotten in decades. But one day, she was racing through the woods, fleeing a girl – Johanna, I think her name was – who was brandishing an ax. Suddenly Leo tripped over a tree root, and Johanna caught up with her. She reared back her ax, whispered "Got you", and…
Boom.
I remember that moment vividly. The sound of the canon reverberating through the silent crowd in the square. Me and Virgo restraining Sagittarius as he tried to push through the crowd to get to the screen, screaming the most heartbreaking scream I've ever heard. The sight of one of our best thieves lying on her stomach, facing the camera, amber eyes wide open, hollow and deserted, so different than the lively orbs that used to constantly glow with laughter.
I almost shudder as I pull off my shirt and replace it with the new one. Even I don't like to think about Leo's death, and that's saying something; over the years, my heart has hardened to pain and death considerably. It's not as twisted as it sounds, it's just how I needed to adapt to the cold, cruel world of Panem.
Since that day, we've all realized that we have to move on. Carry on as usual. Keep going with our lives of crime. Try not to think about the thief, dead and gone, fallen and forgotten. The only one of us who has been scarred for life is Sagittarius. Sure, he still jokes around and acts goofy, but his eyes have never lightened up the way they did when he was around Leo. And whenever he sees an ax, tears start to well up in his eyes, though he still plasters on his normal goofy grin, trying to hide the pain. That's an improvement from two years ago; when Leo first died, he would literally faint every time Aries took out her ax to cut down a tree or something.
I duck behind the cabin and switch my pants, kicking off my boots and pulling on the torn denim. The jeans are a bit small for me, but Taurus did well. She steals most of the clothes herself, which isn't too bad for a dumb blonde.
I pull my boots back on and untie my mask, gazing at my reflection in a small mirror tucked in a nearby unsorted pile of loot.
The mask left a small mark above my amber eyes, eyes that happen to closely resemble Leo's. Funny, they look almost exactly like hers. I wonder if that's a bad omen…
"Pfft," I let out. Nonsense. Lots of people in the world have amber eyes. I shake the thought from my head and examine my hair, wrapping a long, straight strand between my fingers. The jet black strands are messy and grimy, but I still look gorgeous, as usual.
That's another one of my many enviable traits. No matter what happens to me, I always look great. In fact, I've begun to suspect that Taurus is into me.
Ugh, 12 year olds.
A feel a tap on my shoulder and I whirl around instinctively. Aries stands behind me, now wearing ripped jeans, black boots, and a grey and white checkered shirt. Her eyes are currently a deep grey. I've noticed that when she gets angry or nervous, her irises turn dark silver, when she's happy they turn a light blue, when she's sad they turn dark blue, and when she's neutral they're an intense blue-grey. It's rather ironic; when she's angry or scared and her eyes turn very dark, they resemble storm clouds gathering in the distance.
"All the girls are ready, and I think the guys are, too," she says, biting her lip like she always does when she's nervous. Aries is not one to show her emotions, but I can tell that she's nervous for us and herself. "You ready?"
"Yeah," I reply. "Let's go."
After we've made the final arrangements, which include securing the loot, hiding the weapons, tucking a few into our shirts, and packing a few emergency supplies in case anything happens, we begin trekking up the hill.
We walk in complete silence, faces grim and solemn, attempting to hide their unease. Unlike most of the group, I'm not too nervous; our chances of getting Reaped are so slim that they're nearly nonexistent. Add our lack of tesserae to our young ages, and our chances are 1 in thousands. Besides, two of us, Pisces and Scorpio, are a year under Reaping age. We're really not in that much danger.
After a while, a low murmur begins to sound. Apparently the group must have become too fidgety to keep the silence.
"Cap?" Aries speaks up. I smile to myself. I've never known why, but I always seem to smile slightly whenever she says my name, or my nickname, in this case.
"Yeah?"
"What if..." She takes a deep breath. "What if we get Reaped?"
I'm not completely sure, but I think I might hear a bit of a waver in her steady voice, a nervous waver that I almost never hear. When she's nervous, naturally, I become a bit nervous. We know each other so well that it's almost as if we share emotions.
"We won't," I reassure her. "At least, I don't think we will. And even if one of us does get Reaped, we're well prepared. So don't worry about it."
Instinctively, almost subconsciously, my fingers find her hand and grasp it. I notice her cheeks turn a very, very subtle shade of pink, then fade back to normal. There's never really been anything romantic between her and I, at least nothing official, but we've always had some sort of connection since the day she dumped the barrel of water on my head.
Even in the four years that I've known Aries, I've never sorted out my feelings for her in depth. Maybe I love her. Maybe I don't. Either way, I wouldn't know; I don't know what love is. Love is not a big matter in the Swindlers.
When we're almost to the fence, Aries pipes up again, "But what if one of us gets Reaped, and then we die? What will everyone else do?"
I face her again, gazing into her eyes, which are still an ominous silver, the color that reveals that she's scared or angry. I grimace. "Um...well...I guess the Swindlers will do the same thing they did when Leo died. They'll just be sad for awhile, but then they'll carry on as usual."
Aries bits her lip a little harder. "They won't be sad. No one mourns the wicked, you know."
I stop and think for a minute. I guess it's true. Both of us have hearts as solid as rocks, as black as ink. The only people who we care for is each other. We used to be able to love, but with the looming horrors in our pasts, that ability has been nearly obliterated. We're both wicked, cheating, lying thieves. Would anyone miss us if we were gone?
"You won't get Reaped," I tell her. "You won't die either. Even if you do get Reaped, you can win. You're the smartest person I know."
A trace of a smirk crosses her lips. "I guess you're right. You're not awful, either."
I return her smile. "Well, thanks."
When we finally reach the fence, I give the Swindlers the usual instructions. Since there are eleven of us, it would be a dead giveaway if we all exited the fence at the same time. One at a time, we go around the shed that hides the hole in the fence and casually stroll to the street, attempting to seem as non-suspicious as possible. It's worked for the past two years, so it will probably work now.
"I'll go first," I say, starting toward the fence.
"No," Aries steps in front of me. "I'm going with you."
I shrug. I guess it won't hurt. "Okay, then. We'll go, then Gemini, then Aquarius, Virgo, Sagittarius, Taurus, Libra, Scorpio, Cancer, and then Pisces taking the rear. Got it?"
The Swindlers murmur with assent. I turn around to take one last view of our hideout, the secret place where no one else has ever been. The clearing where the cabin rests is just barely visible. Below the platform is a majestic view of the rolling hills, and, in the far, far distance, the outer edge of District 7. A silver lining peeks through the black clouds again, and the rain is starting to pick up again, splattering on the leaves of the lush trees. I'll miss this place if I get Reaped. It's been my home for four years, though it seems like so much longer. I might never return here, never see my only escape from the hellhole that is the nation of Panem...
That's no way to think, I scold myself. You won't get Reaped. Now shut up and carry on!
I reluctantly turn back around, facing District 10, the place that I detest to no end. I duck under the gate with Aries, stepping out around the shed and glancing around to make sure no one is watching us. Then the pair of us briskly, albeit acting casually, stroll to the street, where a crowd is gravitating south toward the square. We stop on the edge of the flow of people and wait for the others.
"Hello," Gemini greets when he reaches us, fidgeting with his wired spectacles. "Everything gone okay so far?"
"Yeah," Aries replies. "Think so."
We spend a few more minutes watching everyone else walk to us one by one. When we've finally all congregated, we split off into pairs so as to seem not inconspicuous. I branch off with Aries, staying behind a large family.
"You're tense," Aries comments, taking my hand again.
I find myself biting my lip just as she's doing. I don't like people to know when I'm scared. "I'm alright," I reply, though even I can hear that my voice isn't completely steady.
We walk twenty minutes the rest of the way, keeping the others in view, until we reach the registration line. Pisces and Scorpio, the only under-aged Swindlers, are about to head to the area where the people who aren't qualified for the Reaping go, when a Peacekeeper grabs their shoulders. "Hold up," he orders. "This year's different. We're takin' finger print tests fer every citizen. Just step in line, it'll take less than a minute."
My eyes widen, and all of us exchange a horrified glance. I know exactly why they're instating the tests. They've probably finally had enough of the Swindlers, they've collected fingerprint samples from the sites of our raids, and now they're testing everyone who comes to the Reaping. A choking feeling comes into my throat.
This could be the end of the Swindlers.
But how could the Peacekeepers catch us with fingerprint samples? We wear gloves on raids. We're prepared for the Peacekeepers to collect fingerprint samples. But still, it seems odd that they happen to be conducting fingerprint tests at the Reaping, when they know we'll be somewhere in the crowd.
A sudden sense of urgency rushes into me. We have to get out of here before they can test us.
"Shoot!" I exclaim, loudly so the Peacekeeper can hear me, and so that I can clue the others in. "I forgot the money at home. You know, the money we had to give Mom from the butcher. She said we had to give it to her right after the Reaping, or else we'll all be spanked again!" I turn to the Peacekeeper. "Sir, could I please go to my house and get the money? Just really quick?" To be honest I have no idea where I'm going with this; I've talked myself out of plenty of sticky situations, but this one is different. There might be no other option but to let him test our fingerprints, which, ultimately, would get us caught.
"Yeah," the Peacekeeper replies. "After you git the test done."
"Oh, please!" Libra steps forward, fingering one of her long black hair dreads. "With all due respect, sir, the Reaping is about to start, and if we don't give the money to Mama soon, she's going to spank us!" She bursts into tears, the droplets standing out on her dark brown skin. Libra has mastered the art of making herself cry for persuasion purposes.
"Mama spanks hard!" Sagittarius adds. "Look at the mark she left from last week!" He turns around and pulls up the back of his shirt, revealing a large red mark that he got from tumbling down part of the hill that leads to the hideout. It's a clever trick; the injury looks just like the mark of a violent spank. I swear that I see a stifled smirk marking his quivering lips.
Pisces gives Libra a hug. "Mama's gonna hurt us!" He begins sobbing, too, except I actually think he might be legitimately sobbing. He tends to crack under pressure.
"Please, sir," Virgo says. "If you don't allow us to get the money, you'll be responsible for an incident of blatant child abuse. Think of the pain that would case us! If you'll only allow us to leave for just a sec, then, in a way, that will save us from Mama's angry hands. That would make you a hero, a man of true honor!"
"Not that you aren't a hero already," Scorpio adds persuasively. "A Peacekeeper - that's what we all have wanted to be when we grow up since we were little kids. We would love to be just like you; people who protect our nation, keep the peace, and foster a secure, nurturing environment for the citizens of Panem." He exchanges a subtle glance with Virgo, whom I think might burst out laughing, because that is completely the opposite of what the Peacekeepers do. "You, sir, can live up to that expectation by letting us go retrieve the money. Like my brother said, that would bring you such honor, the honor of a true hero!"
The Peacekeeper narrows his eyes. "So you're all a family? I don't believe it. There's got to be at least ten of you, and you don't look anything alike!"
"Actually, not all of us are related, even though we live in the same house," Aquarius jumps in quickly. "Those two are our cousins," She gestures to Libra and Gemini, both of whom strongly resemble each other. "And the three of them are adopted," She points to Pisces, Cancer, and Sagittarius. "And the remaining six of us are brothers and sisters. It's quite a full house, you know."
The Peacekeeper stops to ponder this for a moment. Finally, making up his mind, he shakes his head firmly. "Well, yer just gonna have to deal with the spanking. It was yer choice to leave the money at home. I can't let you go, I ain't allowed to."
I resist the temptation to stamp my foot out of pure frustration. As a team, we're all quite convincing, and we can normally get almost anyone to do our bidding. But this Peacekeeper is obviously concerned with following the Peacekeeper rules.
Wait a minute…
"Sir, I certainly don't mean to offend you in any way," I say smoothly. "But according to Section Three, Chapter Five, Section Two-Point-Eight, Rule Thirty-Nine of the District Ten Official Record of Laws, spanking is actually against the laws of District Ten. We don't know whether or not to turn Mama in, because, you know, she's our mom, but we do know that spanking is against the rules. If you let us go get the money, it could keep Mama from committing an unjustifiable, blatant offense of the law. That could make our district a more peaceful place. Isn't that what Peacekeepers are all about?"
The Peacekeeper cocks his head to the side, then lets out a sigh. "Okay, alright, you can go. But you had better git back here before the Reaping, or mah boss will know about this!"
"Oh, thank you, sir!" Cancer exclaims. "You saved us! We will remember your generosity forever!" He runs up to the Peacekeeper and gives him a hug, weeping hard. The Peacekeeper scowls and pries him off.
We turn around, and we have to try extremely hard to suppress our howls of laughter. The story about the mom and the spanking was a brilliant lie, and everyone pulled it off flawlessly. I'll admit, some of it was simply sheer luck. Thank goodness that Peacekeeper was especially dull. He didn't ask us for any identification at all! He didn't even question it when I made up the fake law and stated exactly what part of the law book the law was supposedly in! It's completely and utterly hilarious how we duped him so easily. All we have to do now is just go back to our hideout. I'm about to step forward when a voice sounds from behind me.
"Mm-mmm, not so fast, Swindlers."
The entire group whirls around simultaneously, and the person who stands before us causes my heart to plummet into my stomach. A few of the Swindlers let out a small gasp. No, no, this can't be. Out of all people to turn up again, I would never have expected her in a lifetime.
A triumphant smirk marks her face, framed by a wavy mane of dark brown hair. Her glittering amber eyes are widened with malice. She wears an expensive-looking white dress with a shiny green sash, flowing around her wide hips and narrow waist.
Marissa Auburn.
I haven't seen that girl in a long, long time, since I had just turned thirteen. When we found her roaming the streets, the other Swindlers had thought she was a good recruit, and at the time no one knew she had any relation to me; not even I knew. She was wearing the telltale ragged clothing of a street rat. Marissa (she had called herself Bailey at the time) had seemed like a good enough thief; cunning with a smooth tongue. However, something about her didn't seem quite right to Aries and I. I could recognize her face, I knew I had seen her before. She looked far too much like me to be coincidental. Nevertheless, we accepted her into the Swindlers. And that was our biggest mistake.
Everyone else seemed to like Marissa for the period of time that she stayed with us. She was rambunctious like Sagittarius, smart like Virgo, and smooth and cunning like me. After four months, however, our suspicions were confirmed. One morning, she proudly announced that she had deceived us all. The Peacekeeper HQ had paid her to infiltrate the Swindlers and gain intel, including our location, plans, and identities. She also revealed that she was my sister, and that's when it all clicked.
But before she could take off, Aries managed to pin her against a tree. We convinced her that if she told the Peacekeepers anything, we'd kill her. Normally, this wouldn't shake her even a bit, but she knew how cunning our plans were. Marissa is a coward deep down inside; she ended up running off and saving her own neck by not telling anyone anything she had learned about us. I'm surprised, really, that she had kept her mouth shut this long. Luckily, we also lied to her by saying that we were moving our HQ right away, so Marissa probably told the Peacekeepers that false information. Still, everyone has been extremely wary when it comes to new recruits.
And now she's back. The girl who is out to turn her twin brother over to the Peacekeepers. Okay, my actions are generally not any more honorable than that, but still, just hearing her name makes my blood begin to boil.
"Swindlers?" The line behind us perks up at the name, along with the Peacekeeper.
Marissa grins, a grin more evil than even I can muster. "Yes, that's them. Those are the Swindlers."
A collective gasp spreads among the crowd, and I groan softly, exchanging a glance with Aries, whose eyes are growing darker and darker with fury. I want to run, I want to protest, but my body is paralyzed with…fear? Yes, yes, I admit it. I am completely terrified out of my wits right now.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she shrieks. "Someone grab them!"
As if a bomb just blew up, the crowd surges in all different directions; some charging toward us, some fleeing from us. The Peacekeeper blows his whistle, and within a matter of seconds, a squad of more than thirty Peacekeeper reinforcements is upon us.
"Run!" I holler. "Run NOW!"
I break free of a Peacekeeper's grasp, only to be slammed into another's. Despair sinks into me. This really is it. We've been caught. We're going to jail. With all the offenses we've committed, we could each be shot five times on a daily basis.
I whip my head to the side, but I keep getting slammed around, and my vision is becoming blurry with all the motion. A surge of pain rips through my arm, and I feel a stream of hot blood rush down it. I suddenly feel two metal objects clamp down around my wrists.
Handcuffs.
Three of the Peacekeepers have me trapped in some sort of uncomfortable headlock, and as the squad begins to back up, I notice that all the other Swindlers are trapped by brawny Peacekeepers, too. No matter how much I try to wriggle out of their grasp, they just beat me with their clubs, agony slicing through my bones. Finally, I submit to their clutches, and I cry out, shaking with adrenaline. I feel a cloth jerked onto my mouth and tied to make a gag.
"Good work," Marissa applauds. "You really are fine Peacekeepers."
"What do we do with 'em?" asks one of the Peacekeepers restraining Gemini, who is attempting to adjust his spectacles with his nose, which isn't working too well for him.
Marissa's smirk triples in size. "I have an idea. And it's better than jail or execution." She pauses for a moment, then leans toward the Head Peacekeeper, who is standing off to the side, and whispers something in his ear.
His face lights up as if he just received a delightful birthday present. "Marissa, you have the best ideas," he replies. He turns to us. "Follow the Peacekeepers obediently, or you will be shot. Do you understand?"
He doesn't even wait for us to reply (we can't because of our gags) before he turns back around and leads us toward the square. A Peacekeeper is holding a gun to my head, sending shivers down my spine.
That's when I catch a glimpse of something that enrages me more than Marissa. Aries is trapped too, and every now and then the female Peacekeeper restraining her beats her in the side with her club, evidently enjoying watching Aries yelp. Fury bubbles up in my stomach at the sight of Aries being treated like that. I want to kill that Peacekeeper, I want her blood, but I keep my composure, knowing that lashing out would indefinitely kill both of us.
I stare down at my feet in misery as I hear the cries of recognition, the taunts and the jeers coming from the people passing us. This has been my worst nightmare since the Swindlers began. This can't be happening, it all has to be a bad dream, it has to be! But I know, as a matter of fact, that this is real, and I'm out of options. I can't talk nor run my way out of this. And Aries…Aries could die. And she's the only person whom I would die for.
"Which one is the leader?" I hear the Head Peacekeeper ask Marissa.
Marissa beams with pure glee. "Oh, there's actually two. This one," She points to Aries. "Is named Annabelle Edmonton."
Wait a minute – how could Marissa know Aries' real name? Aries is really sensitive about it, and I'm the only person whom she's ever told it to. Then again, Marissa has a way of finding out everything that she's not supposed to know.
"And this one," Marissa grins proudly, pointing to me. "Is Keaton Auburn. The Mayor's son, and, though I hate to admit it, my brother."
The Peacekeepers who heard her gasp. I guess it's not common knowledge that the poor, weak, abused Mayor's son is the leading criminal mastermind of District 10.
"Interesting," the Head Peacekeeper grumbles. "I do see the resemblance between you two. The only thing different is whether or not you abide by the law. In that case, you, Marissa, are on a higher level than that dirty street rat."
Marissa laughs so shrilly that it comes out almost like a cackle. "Oh, you have no idea how much that means to me, Mister Head Peacekeeper!" She shoots me a lopsided grin, to which I respond with an eye-roll, since my gag doesn't allow me to respond with a witty comeback.
"We're almost there," the Head Peacekeeper barks at us. "I remind you once more, be obedient, and don't attempt to struggle."
It's at that moment that I realize something. If I hang my head low and stare down at the ground, that will make the Peacekeepers think that they broke me. If I keep my head held high, however, that will confuse them and not allow them to revel in their victory. With that concept in mind, I push up my head proudly, even with all the gasps and the taunts and the cheers that come with our presence. The Peacekeepers haven't broken me. At least, not yet.
I'm jostled right past the registration line and to the front of the crowd of Reaping aged children. Then I'm marched up some steps, and soon I register that I'm going up onto the stage, in full view of all of District 10. I try not to think about the cheers of victory while I stare straight ahead, keeping my face without emotion. The six victors sitting behind us gasp, and the purple-clad escort shrieks and falls out of her seat. I take a split second to glance at the other Swindlers, and I see that all of them are keeping their faces blank just as I am, refusing to show any sign of defeat. I make eye contact with Aries, who is to my left. Her eyes are darker than ever, but she still sends me a message through them: We can get out of here. We're stronger than they are.
No, it's not telepathy. It's almost as if we can tell what each other is thinking when no one else can. Perhaps that's simply a product of knowing each other better than we know ourselves.
Definitely, I communicate back.
I'm about to ask her why she thinks they led us onto the stage, when suddenly the puzzle pieces all come together. Leading us to the Reaping. Skipping our registration. Asking which of us are the leaders. Planting us on the stage.
No...no, could it be? No, that can't be happening. Yes, yes, it is happening. But...how...?
A large pit in my stomach suddenly opens up. My knees grow weak, my palms begin to sweat, adrenaline courses through my veins as I watch him strut onto the stage, somehow sober.
It's him. The Mayor.
I can't describe the feeling that comes with this realization. I want to dash away as fast as I can, yet part of me wants to storm up to him and drive a dagger through his stone heart. I want to holler to the whole district the awful things he's done to me. I want to scream "YOU LEFT ME TO DIE! YOU ABANDONED ME TO DIE, AND NOW YOU WANT ME KILLED! GO RIGHT BACK TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL WHERE YOU BELONG!" But I can't. I'm paralyzed, shaking, shaking with rage and fear. On the night that I ran away free, I thought I would never see the disgrace of a man ever again. Out of sight, out of mind, I had thought to myself. But no, after four years of fending completely for myself, here he is, trimmed and clean-cut, not showing any sign of alcoholism.
He turns around to face us, and he gasps. "Is-is that the - are those the - are they -" he splutters.
"Yes," the Head Peacekeeper answers proudly. "We've captured the Swindlers."
The Mayor's eyes widen, though he keeps his aura of professionalism. "Good work," he says, nodding with satisfaction. "We've been looking for you for a long, long time. And -"
His jaw hangs wide open as his eyes rest upon me. Soon, his shock is replaced by fury. "Keaton," he growls. "It's you."
I send an equally fierce glare right back at him. His eyes seem to penetrate me, like the whips that he used to graze my back with every day. Part of me wants to cower and shrink, but I hold my ground, not even blinking. I don't think he had any idea that his son was a Swindler, despite the fact that he's been searching for us for years.
Finally, he straightens up and turns to the Peacekeeper. "And?"
The Peacekeeper whispers something unintelligible in his ear, and the Mayor's eyes light up just as the Peacekeeper's eyes did before.
"Perfect," he says, in a voice so smooth that it sounds annoyingly like mine. "I could never hope for a better punishment for them."
Punishment...
I think I know what this is, and if it's true, then it can't be good.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" the Mayor booms through his microphone. This doesn't silence the crowd at all; most of them are either cheering or screaming accusations toward us.
"Excuse me!" he shouts even louder. Finally, the crowd quiets down, though I know most of the eyes are focused on us rather than the Mayor. Whispers still float through the air. The rain begins to pick up even more, and the droplets pelt my head, dripping into my eyes. A crack of thunder resonates in the sky. "Thank you."
The Mayor picks his microphone up off the stand walks toward the front of the stage, relishing this moment. "Citizens of District Ten, it is with great joy that, on this Reaping day, we have captured the renegades commonly known as the 'Swindlers'."
The crowd erupts in one unified scream, almost like a battle cry. It takes all the strength I can muster to show no reaction, to pretend that I don't see their grins of triumph...
"Now," the Mayor continues. "In replacement of the Reaping, a different event shall occur today. In punishment for their wicked and unjustified deeds," (Right, and he's one to talk) "The Swindlers will be sent to the Capitol to become Avox Servants."
I close my eyes and take a deep breath through my eyes. Stay calm, stay calm, be strong, don't show fear...
"This applies to every one of these criminals except for two." He takes a dramatic pause, then motions to the Peacekeepers restraining Aries and I. They grasp us tightly and shove us to the front of the stage.
"On account for the innumerable offenses of the law committed by the 'Swindlers', the two alleged leaders of the group, Annabelle Edmonton, commonly known as 'Aries', and Keaton Auburn, commonly known as 'Capricorn', shall be sent as tributes to the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games."
No.
No, no, no, no, no. This isn't happening. It can't be. We couldn't have gotten caught. We're too smart. Too strong. Too fast.
I press my eyes shut while the overwhelming clamor of a screaming crowd fills my ears. This is officially it. This is the greatest punishment we can receive. My best friend and I are now tributes, pawns, of the Capitol. We're slaves, destined for death. Even if one of us does make it out, the other one will be dead, gone, fallen and forgotten.
I open my eyes, still keeping my face blank. I exchange a look with Aries.
We're dead! she cries. We're going to the Hunger Games, and we're dead!
I am so, so sorry, I tell her. I didn't mean for it to end like this.
It's not your fault, she responds. None of us could have done anything about it. It was all Marissa's doing.
I glance behind me for a moment, to see how the others are reacting.
What I find is strange, very strange. They're all glancing at each other, nodding every now and then, unnoticed by the Peacekeepers holding them. I can almost see some sort of energy passing between them. That's when I realize that they're working out a plan.
I feel a sudden urge to let out a cheer. A huge sense of pride in the Swindlers wells up inside of me. They're so smart that even under all this pressure, they're thinking of a way to escape! That's exactly what I've been trying to teach them for the whole time we've been together. I can barely hold in my immense satisfaction.
They're thinking of a way to get out of here, I communicate to Aries, looking into her eyes again.
Brilliant, she replies. And I thought they couldn't get any smarter...
The Mayor recites the history of Panem, then the Treaty of Treason. During all of this, I consider my options. I know that the other Swindlers won't be able to figure out how to make Aries and I escape. They'll have to save their own necks. The thought is sort of depressing, but if I were in their place, I would save myself in a heartbeat, too.
Still, I think of all the horrors the arena could bring us. The Gamemakers will kill us, there's no doubt about that. What will District 10 do if one of us comes back home? They wouldn't put a Victor in jail, right?
And also, no matter what my fate is, I'll have to suffer a life without Aries. If I win, she'll be dead. If she wins, I'll be dead. If we're both dead, well...we're both dead, unless there's some kind of heaven out there. Either way, our futures aren't looking too bright.
I'd rather die than live without Aries. That thought has just now dawned upon me. I'd be willing to die in place of her. I'm not a very loyal person toward anyone, but Aries is an exception. I can't think of a word awful enough to describe what life without her would be like.
I hear a small grunting noise, and I turn my head to see Aries trying to get my attention. They're about to do something, she says. Her eyes are electric blue with excitement. At the end of the Treaty. I think they're going to break free.
I tune into the Treaty, and I can tell that it's almost over. Whatever the other Swindlers are about to do, they'll probably do it in about thirty seconds, right when the Treaty ends.
30, 29, 28, 27, 26, 25, 24, 23...
Is Aries right? I hope so. The Peacekeeper's grip on my arm is so hard that it's starting to go numb, and I hope the Peacekeeper will release it once the commotion begins.
17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12...
I don't know what the Swindlers are planning, but they had better survive it. I can't bear to lose another one of my fellow thieves.
10, 9, 8...
The Mayor's almost done, he's probably on the last few sentences...
6, 5, 4...
Any second now!
3, 2, 1.
"ARGH!"
At that exact moment, the Peacekeeper releases his grip on my shoulder. Jerked to the ground, I pick myself up and watch as all hell breaks loose. All at the same time, the rest of the Swindlers broke free from the Peacekeepers' grasps and are now sprinting down the steps, jostled by other Peacekeepers.
I rip off my gag, which takes quite some effort because of the handcuffs. "Keep running!" I scream. "Run!"
The crowd is surging every which way, so violently that it seems as if a cattle stampede is taking place. No one pays attention to Aries nor me, as everyone is leaping forward in an attempt to grab the runaway thieves. The two of us are simply awkwardly standing on the empty stage, watching the battle begin.
A gun shot rings out, and my heart skips a beat as I watch Aquarius sinking to the ground. "NO!" Virgo screams in anguish. He lifts up his sister, shielding her from the crowds. I can feel the color returning to my face as Aquarius hollers "I'm alright! It flew right over my head!"
I'm filled to the brim with exhilaration now, the pure excitement I get when I'm on a raid. I know they can make it out; they're already almost to the corner of the square, where they can split up. Scorpio, Taurus, and Sagittarius have pulled out various weapons from their sleeves and are slashing away at the Peacekeepers. Most of the Swindlers do such a good job at staying concealed that I can't even see them from here. Some of the Peacekeepers are such bad shots that they end up shooting each other, white uniforms stained with red.
"Good luck, you two!" Sagittarius screams after knocking out a Peacekeeper with the butt of his own gun. "We're rooting for you!"
"You can do it!" Libra hollers over the din after dodging a bullet.
"According to my calculations, your overall odds of winning combined are eighty-three thousandths!" Gemini yells quickly. "In my opinion, that is a considerably high number!"
"Do you think we should go with them?" Aries asks me.
I stop to consider this for a moment. "Nah. We'd only get them in more trouble, and they would send even more Peacekeepers after them."
I watch with pride as the Swindlers finally bust out of the square, running away toward the horizon. Maybe this is the last time I'll ever see them. Either way, I could not be more proud of them. I know that somehow they'll make it out. Even if they have to run all the way to another district, they can do it. The Swindlers have done what no one has done before, and they will keep doing what no one has done before right down till their last breaths.
"Capricorn..." Aries says quietly after a long pause. "We can't both make it out, you know."
I raise my eyebrows at that, and I feel a small smile tilting up the corners of my lips.
"Hey, we're Swindlers. We've done the impossible. And if that means getting out of the arena together, then..."
A mischievous grin finds its way onto Aries' face. "Then we'll do it."
My name is Keaton
I was but fourteen
When the wrath of the Capitol murdered me.
For the first time, the two thieves did not prevail
Both of us died, the female and the male.
My body lies motionless, in a whitewashed coffin
And forever will I be
Fallen and Forgotten.