Cinna's Rebellious Roots
A/N: Hey-ho everyone! This is my first fanfic, so treat me kindly please! Though I would love it if you guys R&R. Also, please inform me if I made any grammar mistakes or whatever. I'll gladly correct them. ^ ^ This is somewhat of a back-story of Cinna's rebellious nature that is apparent in the books. Now, please enjoy!
Disclaimer: You know the drill. The dills...Yeah. I'm bad at rhyming. I don't own the Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins does.
My watch read 10 a.m.
"Okay, now everyone as you all have known there was a rebellion against the powerful government of Panem. But the rebellion failed and in the process, District 13 was abolished." The intercom overhead said in a monotonous, soothing lady's voice.
I was in a comfortable luxury hovercraft moving towards District 13. This was part of my "History course" on Panem and its glorious, glorious Capitol. It was now or never. I open the hovercraft door and jump out. I hear myself screaming, but I don't feel anything.
At just the right moment, I pull my parachute. Just the way the rebellion told me to. I crash land into the ominous forest of District 12, and the impact jars my bones. I'm on the fringe, the very border to District 13. Mockingjays jabbered snatches of birdsong overhead. I pack my parachute and then I start walking aimlessly towards nowhere, deeper and deeper into the forest. Two people were supposed to accompany me to the rebellion. Where were they?
"Help, help us!" A girl suddenly bursts out from the bushes with a boy tagging closely behind her. Shoot! All of a sudden, the hovercraft that I escaped from has come back for me. The Mockingjays fall silent with the hovercraft hovering overhead. The hovercraft has targeted my two escorts.
EMERGENCY! Code red! Code red! Targets locked! It had come back for me, and I knew why. Knowing my father, of course he would double the security, so that I wouldn't get into any trouble again. I had to think fast if I wanted to avoid capture, and another stern lecture from my father with all the eyes of the Capitol watching.
I started to run away from my two escorts, knowing that even if I did everything in my power to save them, I still wouldn't have been able to save them. I stopped to catch my breath, leaning against a tall, white maple tree, and then unexpectedly, something grabbed my right ankle and pulled me under the tree. I looked up to find a boy staring angrily at me, wiping tears from his eyes. It was a boy who was sent to rescue me; it seemed that my two escorts were captured now.
We look up to see that the hovercraft is winching the girl up, while the boy is nowhere to be found. He's probably dead now, just for defying the Capitol. Rebellion means death cruel ugly death. I look down in despair, wondering how we could all survive this. After the hovercraft had left, and the mockingjays start singing again, we run away from our hiding place. The boy that is my new guide suddenly pulls me down into a well disguised hole near a rotten pine tree. It was very well hidden, with lots of high tech security around its perimeters.
Finally, I have reached the rebellion at last. There was a whole colony of people underground, and they had a large population of children. I had been told that many children there were starving, skinny as twigs, unable to scavenge topside with being seen by the Capitol's patrols. The only food they had was grown underground but because of limited space, they could not grow enough to feed everyone. I was finally introduced to Mayor Titus.
My first impression of Titus was that he looked dead tired, and stressed out. It is quite a burden, being the leader of a rebellion. He thanked me for joining the rebellion against the Capitol.
"Welcome to District 13, my good friend" he said as he shook my hand.
"They're dead," I said in return.
He just nodded solemnly, knowing that my two escorts are dead. Afterwards, we discussed a plan that would make me be able to work in the Capitol so that I would be able to gather information against the government of Panem. We had agreed upon the job of me being a stylist for District 12's tributes. The stylist job was just a cover to be capable of spying on the Capitol; my real job was to try to scare President Snow by making him think that people are planning a rebellion with the clothes that I would design. We chose District 12 because it is the farthest district away from the Capitol.
One year had passed since I have returned to the Capitol and have begun my training to become a stylist. The pressure is on; I must pass the styling test in order to work in the Capitol. I must design a suit for President Snow for the Hunger Games ceremony. I f he believed that the suit is suitable for the ceremony, then I would be able to work with the tributes, and I would also have the opportunity to know of the Capitol's plans and their weaknesses.
Why, with all the gossip and what not.
The day I finally present my suit to the judges and President Snow has come. When I walked into President Snow's conference room, my eyes catch a glimpse of my father. He was being judgemental and analytical, I could see in the way that he was staring at me. As if he was disappointed in me, yet still happy and proud that I am still alive. It turns out that he is one of the judges for my suit.
What a big surprise there.
I could not tell whether he was enjoying my presence or wanted me to go back to the forest, covered in filth and shame. The judges sat at a rectangular pristine glass table, with President Snow being at the head of the table, patiently waiting for me to show him his suit.
I had created a comfortable, dark black obsidian coloured suit studded with accents of rubies and sapphires that brings out his soft snow white hair, and I made the shoulders of the suit broader, knowing that it would make him look bigger, more powerful and commanding. The look on the judges faces after presenting them the suit was incredible.
I saw the proud look on President Snow's face knowing that he would be the one wearing this suit to the Hunger Games ceremony. Afterwards, I was asked to leave while they discussed whether I had earned the job or not, but President Snow stopped me from leaving. He said to me,
"Welcome to the Capitol." and shook my hand. His grip was firm and his deep blue eyes bored into mine, as cold as icicles, warning me that if I ever made any kind of mistake, I would suffer tenfold.
I was greeted by the governors in the Capitol including my father, who is the official governor in charge of the wealth of each district. He looked happy to know that his son was now an official stylist in the Capitol and that he would have the opportunity to visit his son almost every day.
I was taken to a five star restaurant with my father and we had a nice lunch there while we discussed which district I chose to design for. I had asked for District 12. The reaction I got from my father was just what I had expected. He wanted to know why I chose District 12, knowing that District 12 was the coal mining District with no specialties at all. I had to think quickly and I told him that I wanted a challenge. My simple, bold answer seemed to please him.
Were the people in the Capitol really that gullible?
When the reaping for the Seventy fourth Hunger Games was shown, I finally knew what kind of tribute I was assigned to when I made my decision to be a stylist for District 12's tributes. A girl named Katniss who sacrificed herself for the good of her tiny and innocent little sister. I soon realized that she would be a good symbol of the rebellion.
I have already started to plan out what Katniss Everdeen would wear, what everything would look like. All I had to do was to wait for them to get to the Capitol, and to encourage them to act rebellious yet guiltless, if only I could think of ways to do that. I couldn't force the tributes to do something rebellious, it would not only be suspicious yet it would imply that I myself am in the rebellion. I will help the rebellion with the clothes that I would create. I look outside through the window, thinking. That is when I see a mockingjay flying peacefully outside until a soldier shoots it down with any thought or emotion at all.
The mockingjay burst into bright red flames and fell to the ground, dead.
That was when it hit me; the mockingjays are a symbol of rebellion. Jabberjays was a mutation created by the Capitol to spy on the rebellion, but the jabberjays failed to perform their task. The jabberjays were released into the wilds to die off, but they had survived. Instead of dying out, the jabberjays reproduced with mockingbirds, producing the hybrids called mockingjays. This is what I shall add to the clothing for my tribute, the flames of how the mockingjay burned and died. Just like the mockingjay, we will rebel against the Capitol and do whatever we need to do in order to survive. I smile, and then turn back to my lunch. We will win, starting with my own mockingjay;
Katniss the girl on fire.