This story is a sequel to my story The Seventy Fifth Hunger Games. If you've read that one, don't bother to read the synopsis (unless you want to of course). If you haven't read that one, I suggest you do read the synopsis. Anyways, please read and review this story!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.
Synopsis of the Seventy Fifth Hunger Games:
After Katniss and Peeta won in the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, the Capitol invoked a new rule change on the Reaping, raising the age limit to nineteen. As another part of the Capitol's revenge, the next Reaping was fixed, and Primrose was chosen. Gale volunteered in order to try and bring her back safely to District 12.
Before the Games, Prim and Gale came across two siblings of contestants from the previous year: Castor, brother of Cato, and Tayla, sister of Thresh. And all too soon, the Games began.
Castor was the mortal enemy of Prim and Gale throughout the Games. Tayla saved Prim's life on the second day of the Games, but later betrayed her and Gale. When Prim came across Tayla again, Tayla helped her but then betrayed her yet again. Despite this, Prim still felt warmly towards Tayla. Soon after that event, a rule change was announced.
A mentor from each District would join their tributes in the arena. Two winners from a District would now be allowed. So Katniss joined Prim and Gale, much to the tears of all three. They all couldn't win.
Katniss said that a new rebellion against the Capitol was stirring in Panem because of her and Peeta's defiance the previous year. She also told Prim and Gale that Peeta was actually working for the Capitol's side, but that he was only doing to keep from being killed. The Capitol had eliminated the rebellion's inspiration in a pair of masterstrokes.
Tayla joined the three shortly after Katniss had met up with Prim and Gale. Gale was skeptical of her loyalties, but Katniss overruled him because she was the sister of Thresh.
In a battle with other contestants, Tayla sacrificed her life in order to save the life of Katniss. Shortly after she died, an announcement of a mandatory feast was heard. It was mandatory because the surrounding air outside of the feast zone was to be sowed with a poisonous toxin at the start of the feast.
At the feast, there were six contestants left, including the three from District 12. The other three, including Castor, were all on the same side as well. So in a mass battle, the latter three ultimately lost.
But just when Katniss, Prim, and Gale had to decide which one among them would die, Castor, who was thought to be dead, threw a knife into the neck of Katniss.
Prim killed Castor in white-hot tempered revenge, her first kill, but she couldn't do anything to save her sister. As she died, Katniss told Prim to spearhead the new rebellion that is stirring in Panem.
The rebellion must succeed this time. The Capitol cannot be allowed to go on with its tyranny. And so it's up to Primrose, Gale, and the crew to make sure that the Capitol is overthrown, once and for all.
But there are some questions that need to be answered: Whose side is Peeta really on? And is Katniss actually gone?
In Her Honor
The face of Tayla, floating in a hazy white light, stared at Prim and said accusingly, "You let me die, Prim. After my family had already lost a son, you let them lose a daughter? How could you let me die?
Tayla's face blurred as it transformed into the features of Castor. "You killed me, Prim. I was helpless, unable to defend myself. I had two parents and a sister waiting for me to return home, and you took that hope away from them. How can you live with yourself?
Prim's voice broke through the confusion. "You deserved it! You killed my own sister! You took Katniss away from me…"
That name started to echo repeatedly in the milky haze, "Katniss, Katniss, Katniss, Katniss…"
Primrose woke up, panting. As she lay in her queen-size bed, she sneaked a quick peek out of her ornamented glass window. The starry sky was still filled with the inky blackness of night. Prim sighed. She still had some hours to go before she could give up on the pretense of a peaceful sleep.
Because in the week since the conclusion of the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games, she had not gotten one wink of a dreamless and tranquil sleep. Every single night had become a night of torment, a restless night. And it was all because of the recent Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games that she had competed in.
Because gone was the Primrose of the past. Gone was the Primrose who cried when her sister did before she even knew the reason why. Gone was the Prim who cared so tenderly for all animals in pain and who tried to save them or at least ease their suffering.
The new Primrose was just a simple shell of the old Prim. This new Primrose had let herself be taken over by a terrible white-hot fury, and had killed a human being. She had taken a life. And while that life had committed unspeakable acts, it was still a life. A living, breathing, person. At least it was until Prim had killed it.
And the new Prim had also lost a sister. Words couldn't describe how she felt when her sister died in her very arms. Because Katniss was supposed to be untouchable. Prim had thought of Katniss as having a sort of invulnerability, with all she had been through already in her life. Katniss dying was the end of the world as Prim knew it. The old world was bearable enough. The new world…was hideous.
In fact, Prim would have given up on life already if it had not been for the obligation that Katniss had given her when she died. Katniss had entreated her to carry on the fight, to lead the new rebellion in Panem to overthrow the Capitol. And because it was the last thing Katniss had ever asked her to do, Prim would carry out her wishes to the best of her ability. Prim would see to it that the Capitol would be overthrown.
As Prim slowly sat up, she became aware of the muffled sound of voices outside. These voices did not have the homely quality of those in District 12. These voices spoke in rough overtones, with an accent that Prim recognized from her agonizing days spent away from District 12.
The Capitol.
Not trusting the sound of these unfamiliar voices, Prim got up and dressed quickly in a simple green blouse, tawny pants, and a black hooded jacket taken from her spacious closet. And as she did every time she dressed in new clothes, she transferred the old mockingjay pin of her sister's to the front of her top.
Because when she wore the pin, she felt as though she carried around a bit of Katniss. As if her sister was there beside her. As if she was not gone forever from this world…
And then Prim heard the sound of breaking wood in her house. Her brand-new, fancy house in the Victor's Village of District 12. A benefit of winning the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games; but an un-wanted benefit that had come at a terrible price…
That must have been the front door that just splintered. What do these people from the Capitol want? It can't be anything good, that's for sure.
And then as Prim stood there in the middle of her luxurious bedroom, panicking about the sudden turn of events, she heard a new voice, a familiar one this time. "Prim, over here. Quick!"
Prim rushed over to the open window. And standing down at the foot of her home were Gale and Haymitch Abernathy.
Gale said again, "Prim! You have to get out of there! Quick, catch!" He threw a coil of rope into Prim's window.
Prim caught the rope, and let one end run back down to the ground. Gale and Haymitch both grabbed their end. Prim hesitated for a second. This isn't exactly safe…but who knows what those Capitol people will do to me? And so Prim began to slide down the rope to safety.
As it turned out; she had no real need to worry. Gale and Haymitch held fast onto their end, and also helped to lessen Prim's velocity as she slid down. Of course, Prim did feel a little pain. But after all that's happened to me, what is a little physical hurt?
Haymitch helped Prim stand on her own two feet. "Come on, sweetheart! We must be gone from here! This way, quickly!"
And so discarding the rope, the three of them quickly sprinted away from the house that was under attack seemingly by soldiers from the Capitol. But their escape did not go unnoticed. Shouts of discovery accompanied their frantic flight.
"They spotted us!" exclaimed Prim.
Gale smiled. "They won't be able to see us for long…"
Madge Undersee, District 12's mayor's daughter, picked the perfect time to pull up ahead of the three that were taking flight. She was in the driver's seat of a four-seater chrome-colored hoverbike. A pair of headlights were illuminated on the front of the bike in order to see through the deep blackness of the night. "Get in!" Madge cried.
And so the three fugitives piled into the small bike. Once they were all in the bike, Madge zoomed off away from the Victor's Village, leaving the troops from the Capitol in the dust.
As the bike approached the chain fence that encircled District 12, Madge yelled, "Hang on!" She then flipped a switch on the dashboard of the hoverbike. The bike started to rise in the air, but the fence was coming ever so closer. The three passengers inhaled sharply. Would they clear the fence in time?
The bike shot over the fence with inches to spare. Madge reversed the switch she had flipped earlier, and the bike settled down to resume a normal height as it flew over the leafy terrain of the surrounding woods.
As you can imagine, Prim was bursting with questions by this time. "Madge, where did you get this hoverbike from? Who were those people? And why did they break into my house?"
Madge eased up on the throttle slightly, noting that they had no pursuers. "This is my father's personal bike. Once he got wind of the Capitol's planned strike, he sent us three to rescue you from your home."
"Strike? And how exactly did he get wind of it?" asked Prim.
"All in due time," answered Madge.
Prim was growing exasperated. Nearly being kidnapped in the middle of the night and not getting straight answers will do that to you. "Can you at least tell me why those Capitol men were after me?"
"Yes. But it's quite a long story…" replied Madge.
~/~/~/~/~/
The previous day:
Peeta Mellark swung himself off his soft, feathery bed and sighed. Another day. Another day of anguish, suffering, and burning in his mental and emotional hell.
Katniss.
Not a day passed when that name did not surface in Peeta's mind. Ever since that fateful day of her death, a week ago, Peeta had been locked in a never-ending nightmare. When he saw Katniss breathe her last, and move on from this world, his own personal world had ended. Watching her die on an advanced resolution television had only served to heighten the pain that he had felt inside. He had felt as if he was right there next to her. And he wasn't able do anything to save her…
Peeta stopped in front of his finely chiseled wooden desk table, and picked up the simple knife on top of it. As a highly-placed general in the Capitol's armed forces, Peeta was the not-so proud owner of an advanced pistol model, the Alti 26. But the thing was, Peeta didn't really care for his fancy gun. He was more inclined to keep with tradition. That tradition being the weapon which had helped him win the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games. With her.
Peeta crossed his room, with knife in hand, and came to a halt in front of his full-length mirror set in the beige-colored wall. Looking at himself, he saw a wreck of a human being. He took in the unkempt hair, the dirt all over his body, and the wrinkled clothes that he hadn't changed since two days ago. Because, with Katniss gone, he ceased to function properly. A part of him ceased to exist.
Peeta held the knife to his own throat and began the same mental struggle that he had struggled with at least twenty times a day over the past week:
I want to do it. I want to end it. I want the pain to be over.
But she wouldn't want you to.
But how can I live with this hole in my heart? How can I go on?
You have to go on. You still have a role to play in Panem. In the entire world.
I don't care. I only care about her. And now she's gone. Forever.
But Peeta was saved from making a decision about his life right there and then, because a knock rapped at the door. "General Mellark?"
Peeta sighed and slipped the knife into his belt. "Yes?"
"You're wanted by the top man in one hour, in his office. Don't be late." The sound of the messenger's footfalls echoed on the solid tiled floor in the outside hall as he walked away.
Peeta sighed sadly for a third time. Then, with tears threatening to well up in his melancholy blue eyes, he headed off to his washroom to make himself presentable for another day in hell.
~/~/~/~/~/
Earlier that day:
Sawyer Thistlewine was one of those people who it was quite easy to overlook in a crowd. Medium height, medium build, brown hair, brown eyes, no deformities or imperfections at all. In fact, Sawyer had lived all eighteen years of his life as a nobody. Not getting second glances as he walked by on a crowded street, no strangers really paying the slightest bit of attention to him. But today, that was going to change. Because today, Sawyer had a very special mission.
As Sawyer strolled along the cobble-stoned, bustling streets of the Capitol, nobody paid him the slightest mind. Just like he was used to. But this time, the reason was because of his altered appearance. His normal, nondescript image would never work here; he would stick out like a sore thumb next to all of the other mutilated and eccentric-looking people in the Capitol. So as to prepare for this mission, Sawyer had brought also a pink-haired wig and had dyed his skin color to blue. Walking next to the average Capitol citizen, he looked no more or less ghastly.
This scrupulous preparation was because Sawyer couldn't run the risk of someone reporting him to the authorities on this particular day. Because today, Sawyer had the task of assassinating a man. A very important man. And why was he doing it?
"In her honor," he whispered to himself. "For Katniss."
Because of Sawyer's accursed plain appearance, Katniss had never noticed him in the least. And when she ever did glance his way, her eyes had never lingered upon his face. To Katniss, Sawyer was just a speck of dust on the street.
But that didn't stop him from loving her from a distance, because he sure as hell didn't have the guts to go up and talk to her. Always whenever they were in the same area, Sawyer would try to sneak a glimpse of her. Her and her sleek black hair, her finely-toned body, her alluring gray eyes. But he couldn't do that anymore. Because the love of Sawyer's life was now out of this life.
And so as to try and mend the gaping wound in his heart, Sawyer had volunteered for this mission. The mission that would jumpstart the rebellion against the Capitol. The mission that would ultimately change the course of Panem.
But although the mission was to eliminate a highly-placed figure in the Capitol, it also served a secondary purpose: to strike fear into the citizens of the Capitol. This secondary purpose made it necessary for Sawyer to commit the act in front of a certain number of witnesses. And so he would.
Sawyer's shuffling feet finally stopped in front of his destination. The Games Headquarters.
Sawyer had entered the Capitol as a stowaway on the very same train that had brought the sister of Katniss home from her ordeal in the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games. While the train was refueling in the District 12 station, Sawyer had stayed out of sight of the surrounding passerby, snuck on, picked the lock on one of the empty suites, and settled in quite comfortably. It was as easy as that. The Capitol's extreme arrogance was evident in their lack of security.
Over meticulous surveillance the past week in the Capitol, Sawyer had garnered the information that his target left the building at precisely noon, ate lunch at a swanky restaurant that varied daily, and then returned to the Games Headquarters at one o'clock sharp. According to the old-fashioned ornamented town clock that towered over the surrounding golden buildings in the area, the time was now 11:59.
When the little hand reached the number 12, the doors to the Games Headquarters swung open. Right on time.
Out walked a tall, thin man with green hair and blue lipstick on. This matched the description of the target given to Sawyer. This man proceeded to stroll casually out of the boundaries of the Games Headquarters, never stopping to give Sawyer the smallest bit of attention.
Sawyer laughed inwardly. Pompous fool.
As the man continued on his path through the crowded Capitol streets, Sawyer settled into an easy pace about ten yards behind him. Just enough distance to keep him in sight, but not enough to make him nervous about a possible tail.
While he carefully followed the man, Sawyer kept his eyes peeled for any sign of a guard detail assigned to his target. As far as he could tell, there was none. Once again, another example of the Capitol's arrogance. This time, the arrogance would prove to be the man's downfall.
After making the decision that it was safe to take action, Sawyer increased his pace. He kept on walking more rapidly, weaving through the crowd, until he was level with the man. Still walking, this man turned slightly sideways to give Sawyer an odd look.
Sawyer smiled reassuringly. "Hey, I'm a big fan of yours. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about what your job is like in the Games Headquarters, and about you playing such a big role in the Hunger Games?"
The man relaxed visibly. He even looked rather flattered. "Of course. I'm always happy to chat with my admirers," said the man.
How simple. Appeal to their ego, and it all comes together. "I know a real wonderful place to dine," said Sawyer. "The cuisine there is quite delicious. What do you say, my treat?"
"That works for me. I'm actually on my lunch break right now. Lead the way, son," replied the man.
And so Sawyer did. Sawyer ever-so subtly steered the man away from the main, colorful streets with their throngs of people, and led the man down a less-used side street. Now, the man began to look suspicious. "I don't see any restaurants," he said in a bewildered tone. "Are you sure you know where you're going?"
Sawyer took a final check around; yes, he had the perfect number of witnesses. Not enough to impede his escape, but enough in order to accurately report the coming act. "No. But I know where you're going," he replied coolly.
Then Sawyer plunged his old-fashioned knife deep into the man's heart. He stabbed him in the ribs again just to be sure. And then once more in the upper torso for good luck.
The man crumpled to the ground, blood running from the three separate stab wounds. He tried to speak, but the only gasps that came out were incoherent.
Sawyer didn't stick around to watch him suffer his last moments. Sawyer took off immediately after having stabbed the man. His next task: to incarcerate the knife. Nothing would be left behind. No evidence. No trace.
As he sprinted away, the sounds of people screaming, the wails of the sirens already in his ears, he thought, too easy. Their arrogance is…their undoing.
An hour later, a purple and red-haired man was at the scene of the crime. His wig had been changed, and his skin had been scrubbed completely clean to its normal tanned hue. This newcomer joined the growing mob on this little side-street and exclaimed to no one in particular, "Oh, my! What happened?"
~/~/~/~/~/
"The renowned Hunger Games announcer, Claudius Templesmith died today. From early examination of the body, it can be determined that the cause of death was not accidental. He appears to have been murdered. Eyewitness accounts report a pink-haired man with blue skin to be the culprit. Anyone matching that description should be reported. Authorities claim that this murder is another vile act of rebellion by the outlying Districts, and they call on the government to take strong action. More details to follow on this story."
President Snow clicked a small button on his remote. The wide-screen digital television that had been playing the latest news broadcast instantly followed his command and shut off. He pressed another button on an in-set panel on his hand-carved mahogany desk and said in a level tone, "Send him in."
Peeta Mellark entered the room and took the armchair opposite from the President, looking quite different from his dreadful state an hour prior. He had showered, dressed in a fresh suit, and had combed his ashy blond hair with the utmost care. The President was not a man that you wanted to appear disheveled in front of. Bad things tended to happen to a person if they invoked his displeasure.
The President cut right to the chase, and asked Peeta, "Have you seen the latest news about Templesmith?"
Just like it was with every such encounter with the President, Peeta's mind was racing. Working to come up with exactly the right response. The response that wouldn't pinpoint Peeta as a not-so-devoted follower of the Capitol. A response that wouldn't mark him for death. "Yes, I have."
The President leaned closer. "And what do you think of this news?"
"We need to strike back at the rebels. Fast and hard. They need to learn that they can't get away with this sort of heinous crime that easily," answered Peeta with a determined look. But under the façade of determination, he was cursing himself rather vehemently.
"You're quite right," said President Snow. "In fact, I have just completed the plans for such a strike. Rather than crush these rebels physically and in material terms, we also need to destroy their intangible beliefs and hopes. That is why, tonight, a select commando team has already left for District 12. The mission objective: the kidnapping and summary execution of Primrose Everdeen. If she is eliminated, the spark of the rebellion will truly cease to exist."
Peeta's stomach lurched. It was all he could do to avoid being sick at the learning of the news of the commando strike. But the words came out of his mouth before his brain even realized what he was saying. "President, let me handle the Everdeen matter…personally."
~/~/~/~/~/
"So Claudius Templesmith was assassinated, and so the Capitol now wants to kill me? Tell me how that makes sense," said Prim in a sarcastic tone.
"It makes perfect sense, sweetheart," answered Haymitch. He adjusted his seating to make himself more comfortable in the cramped hoverbike. "Katniss was the inspiration that helped kick off the whole rebellion. She died a martyr to her cause, the cause of liberty and freedom. The cause of the rebellion that is now stirring. But you are still alive. As her sister, and as a most recent Hunger Games victor, you are viewed by all of Panem as the hero who will take up her mantle and lead the rebels to victory."
Gale winced. Haymitch had said the name. Somehow, not saying her name aloud made the horrible pain of her loss easier to deal with. And as Gale thought back to that Reaping day that had put all of these events in motion, he realized that the terrible irony of it was, the whole disaster could have been averted…
"We could do it, you know," Gale said quietly.
"What?" Katniss asked. She had no idea what he meant.
"Leave the district. Run. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," Gale said.
But as Gale sat there in the hoverbike that was flying through the woods, lost deep in thought despite the roar of the engine, he realized that if he and Katniss had actually run away that day, while Katniss would still be alive, others wouldn't be. Prim would have definitely died in the Hunger Games without Katniss to volunteer for her, and Peeta would have been a goner for sure as well. Despite his negative feelings towards Peeta, he still didn't wish him to be out of this life permanently.
Not like…her.
And if the two of them actually had left that day, this whole rebellion would not even be beginning. Because the Games would have ended as they usually did, with some Career, probably Cato, coming out victorious. No defiance of the Capitol would have occurred, because there wouldn't have been two winners in order to give hope to the growing rebellion. So in a way, the death of Katniss was for the greater good.
That still didn't make it any easier for Gale to deal with.
"So where are we headed now?" asked Gale of Madge in the driver's seat.
"Well, we can't do this alone. We're going to need some help in order to rebel. Help in order to set the uprising in motion. The help of people who are natural anarchists and who have been resisting the Capitol quietly for some time now," Madge said with a twinkle in her eyes.
Gale had the air of someone that was becoming impatient. "So…what does that mean?"
Madge turned the steering yoke of the hoverbike sharply to the left. Everyone else hung on for dear life as Madge said, "We're going to District 13."
I kind of have doubts about this whole story idea all of a sudden...and I'm debating whether to continue. I'm wondering if it doesn't fit the traditional Hunger Games fanfic style. Please, please review and let me know what you thought of this chapter! Reviews totally make my day!