"So, Mr. Hudson, for the first time in Panem's history, two victors have been crowned in this year's Hunger Games. What do you think of this?" The reporter asked as she held out a microphone in front of Hudson. Adam Hudson had been the victor of the 10th Annual hunger games, originally 17 years old. He had been the first tribute to win from a district outside of the 1st, 2nd, and 4th districts, coming from District 7. He was also the oldest living victor in Panem. In addition, he had something to say about just about anything that happened while he was around, so the Capitol kept camera crews on him to tape his reactions to major events in the country. Like now. Hudson looked up from his wheelchair and smiled, shaking his head slightly.
"Well how about that? Two victors? That's really something special. Lucky little snakes. Wish I coulda gotten away with that." He said as he chuckled, as he waved his finger in the air. That was a little quirk of his, one he had obtained when he was in the games. Some said it was form of PTSD, others said it was his way of speaking, and others just said it was him going crazy. Him? He just thought it was something that he did without thinking about it. He didn't mind it anyway, not like it hurt anyone, right?
"Mr. Hudson, this chain of events has sparked a wide response from all across the country." The reporter said. Hudson laughed.
"I'll bet! Bet the Capitol is real fricken' pissed that they got showed up like that. Heck I know I would." He said with a slight chuckle in his voice. The reporter gave a short chuckle before shaking her head, and regaining her serious nature. Pity. Hudson really enjoyed when she forgot about her work and had a laugh. Made him feel like he wasn't the only human in the room. Leaning against the back of his chair, Hudson prepared himself for the next question, not that he was in the mood to answer them anyway. Still, it kept him safe from anything else that the Capitol could think of.
"You have no doubt seen the footage of what happened on television?"
"Who hasn't? I mean, if you don't the government just comes in and beats ya half to death. Do you really have a choice?" Hudson asked back to the reporter. The reporter pulls at her collar for a moment, seemingly nervous with Hudson's answers. Hudson didn't care. As far as most of the districts were concerned, he was just a crazy old man who couldn't help what came out of his mouth. Heck, sometimes he DIDN'T know what he was saying. Maybe now was one of those times. Hudson didn't really care.
"Anyway... Many believe that this was not an act of desperate love, but of rebellion. What do you think about these statements?" Hudson scoffed and waved his hand at the camera, as though trying to make it go away. Much like he would when a fly would get too close to him. Giving a forced laugh, Hudson looked back at the camera, his face carrying an obvious disgust.
"Those people are a bunch of numb-skulled morons! They're always lookin' for some sort of crap to make a victor look like some sort of freak or criminal. I mean, I'm a freaken' victor, and nearly every freaken' person in this dang nation says that I'm insane!" Hudson angrily leaned forward in his wheel chair, glaring angrily into the camera lens. "Do I look insane to you? Well I'm not! If you saw half of the crap I did in that arena, you'd freaken' understand why I am the way I am. What the heck is wrong with you people? Huh?" Hudson shouted at the camera. The reporter told him to relax, and told him that he wasn't crazy. Hudson scoffed at her and shook his head. She thought he was nuts. He knew she did. Heck, anyone who wasn't a victor thought he was losing his mind. But he wasn't. No matter what any idiotic piece of crap said.
"Now, Mr. Hudson, it's been about a week since the 'Star Crossed Lovers' won the Hunger Games and went home. Their district has received supplies from the capitol for the first time in twenty-four years. What do you think about this?" Hudson clicked his tongue and shook his head, smiling like a mad man.
"Well that's good for them. I mean, bout time that district got some freaken' help. They're the poorest of the districts or some crap like that right? Makes you wonder what those presidents are doing up there in their fancy homes." Hudson said. After that, he burst out laughing, thinking what he had said was hilarious. In his mind, he was a comedic genius when it came to politics and stuff like that.
"Our last question for the day. Shortly after the return of the tributes, rumors of strikes in your own district right here have been spreading. Overall hours are down, and less product is being produced each day. Do you think that there are any connections between these events?" The reporter asked kindly, pointing her microphone back at Hudson for the last time of the day. Hudson clasped his hands in his lap, and gave a thoughtful face. He considered these events, wondering if that one girl's actions really had sparked this. He had indeed been noticing that his son and his grandson had not been working as hard as they had been not long ago.
"You wanna know what I think?" Hudson said after about thirty seconds of silence. He looked up to the reporter, her black hair gently coming down to her shoulders. She smiled and nodded, which made him smile. She had a very pretty smile.
"I think that the districts should be more careful about what they believe. Now, I wasn't particularly old when the Dark Days were happening, but I was old enough to see what it had done to my mom. My dad dead, my sister in intensive care for a year before dying, she was a wreck." Hudson said as his smile vanished. The mood in the room darkened, as he shifted his view to the camera, and leaned forward again slightly.
"You hear me? I didn't have the misfortune to see the first Dark Days. I have no freaken' desire to see a new set of em'. So you best get your acts together if you think a few strikes and... slowed work days are gonna make the Captiol see somethin'. You wanna a better future? Stop trying to piss off the Capitol. It's not gonna solve any freaken' problems."