|Sequel to "Exist". District 13 is too good of a location to pass up, so I will be stationing our characters there temporarily, but this will take a very different path from Mockingjay. Thanks for reading and as always, if you have anything you'd like to say, please drop me a review or a PM. I'm always on the lookout and I love reading feedback!|
Not for the first time, two biased soldiers had to get between Haymitch and a too-big-for-his-britches snotrag whose sole entertainment seemed to be in mocking Haymitch. It had become custom for Haymitch to fight with the soldiers of District 13, but he was never the first one to draw blood. For people like Topper whose very faces demanded to be punched, it was amusing to set Haymitch off since his temper bubbled so near the surface nowadays. Fighting was strictly prohibited in Thirteen and punishable by isolation as well as shortened rations, but since all the feuds were with Haymitch and he never sought retaliation, little shits like Topper knew they could come at him whenever they wanted without fear of retaliation from Commander Septum.
Praxis Septum, leader of District 13 was a man with little patience, a short temper, and no humor, but he let Haymitch be on account of Haymitch being as much of a beacon for the rebellion as Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, the woman who fooled the Capitol. She was the main attraction and could request special favors as long as they didn't interfere with daily activity such as letting Haymitch out on a long leash. Praxis accepted Katniss; he tolerated Haymitch.
But it wasn't Haymitch's fault that half of the middle levels could hear him shouting and swearing in the dead of night as he awoke to visions of giant insects crawling all over him or throwing back his covers only to discover that half of his body was missing. His last Hunger Games had broken him and two months after, he was still in recovery mode, though improving far beyond his own expectations. After discovering Katniss alive, his body had begun to live again, to accept nutrition and allow for healing to occur.
Praxis, working through spies in the Capitol, managed to send separate parachute gifts to Katniss and Beetee, the extraordinarily intelligent victor from District 3. Neither of them had been briefed before entering the arena, but their parachutes came with instructions to inject themselves with a syringe full of a deceiving liquid when the cameras were not on them and they were out of eyesight of all other victors. The liquid was an advanced drug made to completely stop the heart and all other vital organs so that the cannon would sound off, but at the same time it would keep the victors alive for a short period, just long enough for the hovercraft with the serial number 1512 to swoop down and claim them. One or two Gamemakers in the control room staged their deaths by having a portion of the jungle arena seize Beetee and then supposedly throw him into the force field while Katniss waited until nearly midnight for the complete darkness while the spies disrupted the cameras in her sector so that no one could see her inject herself. The hovercraft would only be able to get clearance twice and so the number was stamped onto the side so that Katniss and Beetee knew which one to trust.
Meanwhile, Haymitch knew none of this and went through the seven layers of hell in every physical, emotional, and mental sense of the word before he was told of Katniss's survival on the train back to District 12. Peeta Mellark and Effie Trinket assumed he had been shot as punishment for his outspoken interviews, but this was only to spare them in case they were captured and questioned by the Capitol.
So Haymitch came to Thirteen, an elaborate underground operation where he was the first of many rebels to begin trickling in from the districts. The rest of Panem was not yet at a full scale riot, but before President Snow brought down the axe, those who could were fleeing into the wilderness while others made direct contact with Thirteen and requested evacuation. Praxis had put him on a rigid diet that consisted solely of meats and vegetables along with some serum that started feeding Haymitch's damaged limbs where food and exercise could not. With alcohol prohibited and the physical strain on Haymitch due to his strict training schedule, his body was finally returning to its state when he had won his first Games. This was the healthiest and fittest he had been in over twenty-five years.
The one thing he had kept about his post-arena appearance, though, was his closely shaved head, not because he missed his long blonde strands, but because it was just so much easier to manage without and if there was one thing the arena had made him appreciate, it was cleanliness. After going days without scrubbing layers of caked-on mud and congealed blood from his body, he couldn't stand to go longer than a day without bathing, which was lucky because Thirteen allowed him to take a two minute shower every night on the spot at ten minutes to nine. Still, he felt partially naked without his hair and the place where he had accidentally sliced into his skin as he cut the hair off had not healed (inwardly he believed Snow had the doctors inject something into him that prevented the cuts from bleeding, but also kept them from completely scabbing over) so he was granted upon request a black hat that shaped to his head and hid all his scars from view.
Which was why Haymitch made a mad grab for his shield when Topper yanked the hat from the top of his head, revealing his battle souvenirs and waving the hat tauntingly out of Haymitch's reach as another two of Topper's cronies blocked Haymitch off. Topper climbed on top of the cantina tables and started leaping from one to another, tossing the hat from hand to hand as he went.
"What are you, four?" shouted Haymitch as Topper's thugs kept him back. "Grow up and get your ass down here."
"Those are some interesting cuts you have on your head, Abernathy," said Topper. He had small, beady eyes like a rat and mousy hair, which made Haymitch want to report him as a vermin infestation on a daily basis.
"I'll give you some matching ones if you don't quit that shit and get down here so I can knock your teeth out."
"You do and Septum will knock yours out to make me a new set."
"I'm not in the mood right now and I'm needed below, so give it back," said Haymitch wearily.
"Oh, needed below are you? Especially important task for the disturbed two-time victor of District 12? That's put us in our place, hasn't it, lads?" said Topper, trying Haymitch's hat on for size. "You must think you're Septum's favorite little soldier, don't you Abernathy? Well, a hat doesn't merit you for shit down here and you'd best stop shooting me looks every time you pass by because you're no more important than the rest of us."
Actually, Haymitch was over a hundred times more important that the majority of Thirteen's inhabitants, but he wasn't about to tell Topper that. Finally, one of Topper's cronies encouraged his leader to give up Haymitch's hat and Topper jumped down from the table, wringing the hat in his hands for good measure two feet from Haymitch.
"You haven't been here nearly long enough to know how things are run, Abernathy. For example, we don't waste food here and I see you leaving bits on your tray for some of the children. They eat only what they need and you're not helping them; you're encouraging disobedience by doing that. Also, don't pretend to know more about the Capitol than those of us who were raised knowing what sort of foul deeds they get up to. And thirdly, if you're Septum's pet, request a sedative because I'm sick of hearing you screaming every night. Man up and act like a soldier."
Haymitch punched Topper in the mouth, not out of annoyance, but because the little bastard had no idea why or how the nightmares were brought on. Thirteen only caught small highlights from the Quarter Quell because Praxis didn't want word getting out that there was an infiltration to get Haymitch, Katniss, and Beetee out of the arena. Topper didn't see what sort of horrors he had to deal with. Despite the rigidness of Thirteen, Topper had grown up safer than Haymitch ever could have hoped for and for him to insult Haymitch's masculinity when Topper had never been in any form of combat, it was nothing short of unacceptable.
True to his word, Haymitch had popped out two of Topper's back teeth and as the thugs were about to launch themselves at Haymitch, there came a whistle and a command of, "Stand to!"
Haymitch didn't follow the order issued by Alaida Septum, Praxis's eighteen year old daughter and lieutenant, but did hasten to scoop up his hat where Topper had dropped it and jammed it back on his head as Praxis entered the nearly empty cantina. His cold lavender eyes swept over Topper who was nursing his jaw to the two thugs to Haymitch who was sure that his face had to be flushed with anger.
"More frugal fighting, Mr. Abernathy?"
"I wouldn't say frugal. He provoked me and I let him have it. I'm not taking lip from a coward who's still wet behind the ears and has no idea what goes on above ground."
"Nevertheless, I've had quite enough reports of scuffles happening around here, especially concerning you two. I'm cutting your rations in half for a week and you'll report to your compartments immediately after meals for the duration of the night until further notice. No nightly activities. Topper, Goggin, Weymar, dismissed."
Shooting Haymitch a death glare, Topper marched out of the cantina, winking at Alaida behind Praxis's back, which for some reason infuriated Haymitch even further. Once they had gone, Praxis motioned for Haymitch to sit down, which Haymitch did, though reluctantly because he knew Praxis would remain standing and he hated being talked down to.
"Mr. Abernathy, I am aware that my soldiers have not been in combat and that very few of them have any emotional ties to victims of the Hunger Games. You and them could not be more different, but that does not give you cause to think of yourself as their betters and the sooner you stop acting like it, the sooner they will let you be."
"Excuse me, but I don't strut around looking down my nose at people," Haymitch snapped. "I go to and from my designated areas and I don't talk to anyone unless I'm given an order."
"Precisely, and it is this attitude that has led many to believe that you think them unworthy of your attention," said Praxis crisply.
"Then you all are full of shit because where I come from, it's perfectly normal and acceptable to be anti-social. We don't force contact with anyone in District 12 or any of the other districts, now that I think of it. There's no law that says that we have to buddy up with people we don't know or like. If I come across as standoffish it's because I was raised that way, just like you all were raised to pry into everyone's personal lives so that there's no privacy. It's not my fault that people don't get along with me; it's not like I asked to be here and I didn't have much of a choice to say no either. If it bothers you, send me away or give me something else to do because even though you've been building me back up into the standards of a District 13 soldier, I've done nothing to be of any use around here."
"I believe I mentioned once before how you talk too much, Mr. Abernathy."
"Yeah, but what you meant was that I'm the only one who voices my opinion, another thing no one here knows how to do. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go below to train and get all set to go nowhere."
As he went, he could have sworn that he saw Alaida grin at him.