Prologue 2! I'm thinking one or two more of these before I close submissions, but we'll see how we go!
02 - The Design Process
Calla Becskei, 18, Flora Expert
One month before reapings
It was like looking into the uncanny valley.
The high cheekbones, the thin brows, the plump lips. No matter how many times he would see this face, he found himself stirring with unease at the mere sight of it. He'd work on the flowers for the arena, deciding which to infuse with what chemicals, and then he'd catch a glimpse. The face that was so foreign, yet followed him everywhere.
He tore his gaze away from the glass container. He was on the job now, and he knew Horace would confront him if he began to slack off and make mistakes. He just wanted to avoid the man as often as possible.
"Calla?"
Ah. That was him, unmistakably called out by Huang's voice. He glanced over his shoulder, watched her approach from the other side of the room, and waited for her to join him.
"You seem out of it today," she noted. He huffed a humourless laugh.
"I always have something on my mind," he told her. It wasn't a lie, not by a long shot. But Huang was good at picking apart his lies.
"It's what makes you yourself," she agreed. "But I did wanna catch up a bit. Sloane and I finished up our theory work, and I figured we could get some sugar flowers or something. I have a craving for something sweet."
He stared at her dryly. "Just… sugar flowers?"
"I am an adult and I pick my food as I please."
She wasn't wrong. He just didn't find the bite-sized sweets all that appetising. But then Huang added something more his pace, and he was sold on the idea of a lunch break.
"I'll shout you a bag of chocolatines. Or pears, if you're in a healthy mood."
The cafeteria was nearly empty, the other gamemakers either having brought food themselves or simply skipping food altogether. It made leaving the isolated lab feel a little easier. It made him feel like there were less eyes searching for the reclusive, hidden-away Calla Becskei.
They sat in silence for the first few minutes. Huang nibbled on a few flowers while he bit into the first of his chocolatines. It was peaceful—before Huang's other goal reared its head, a guilty expression on her face. Lunch was a bribe, he realised, and he put down his chocolatine silently.
"Arrests start today," she said in a soft voice. A voice that wanted to keep the conversation private. "Every District. Even here. I'm… I don't know what to expect from the arrests."
"Rebels, most likely," he answered glibly.
Huang shook her head. "But the kids who are just related? What kind of life are we shattering with this? What kinds of people will they have been before the new Games moulds them into something else?"
What, indeed.
"Since last month the list of names jumped from four hundred to seven. That's—That's over ten percent of District Twelve's population, y'know?" Huang chewed her lip. "And if you add family members of reaping age…"
He didn't really care for the numbers. If he was honest, he didn't even really care for the people who were being punished with this new Games design. It wasn't that he didn't know them, and thus didn't care—it was more that he knew if he ever met them, they'd reject him and try to change him. Try to do what Horace did, what so many people in his life before the Gamemaking team had done.
But he kept up his blank expression, waiting for Huang to continue. She didn't. So he prompted her, "What does this have to do with me?"
Huang tugged at her hair. It was a nervous habit, one he liked to watch every so often whenever she got stuck on a decision or plan of action.
"W—Well…" Huang averted her gaze, staring down at his chocolatine. "Sloane and I, we finally finished successfully splicing the DNA for the mutts. We have a few people already arrested we can get solid samples from now to fully mature a mutt for the arena, but the one we're both set on…"
His heart sank. His expression must have as well. Huang backtracked.
"We won't if you don't approve! I know how you get when the Hemingway kids are brought up, especially with how similar you are with the brother—but Chambray is easy to access, and samples were taken from Calico's corpse—if we can make the mutts recognise each other—"
His knuckles were white under the table. He could feel his nails digging into his palms, drawing blood and leaving a fire in their wake. Huang didn't see it. He never showed his hands, lest they give away his tells more than his face.
"Go ahead," he forced out. Huang stared at him.
"Calla—"
"It's fine. Like you said, it's convenient to use what's available." He swallowed a lump in his throat and forced his fingers to stretch out. There was blood under every nail. "I appreciate you wanting my consent for it, though," he added, and the lie tasted so bitter on his tongue.
Sloane Black, 27, Muttation Designer
When Huang entered their lab again, Sloane was reviewing the results of the latest tests. This was, after all, quite the revolutionary muttation design; while they were familiar with the previous mutts who'd resembled tributes in special ways, Sloane had never once heard of a Gamemaker creating a mutt that, to its core, was a clone of the tribute it was modelled after.
Huang had proposed the idea after seeing Carna's horns. Sloane had been in the general vicinity, an unwitting audience to Huang's fantasy of demi-fauna, and then all of a sudden they were brainstorming. Would they start with this animal, or that one? Who did they use as a base to clone? Would they leave them more animal than human, or implant human traits in them? All the possibilities, all the hypotheses.
And then Magnus, a mere three months ago, before the changes to the Games had been made, showed Sloane his arena design. Sloane knew what they wanted to make in that instant, and Huang had been completely on board. They stared at the embryo in the tank with an almost fond expression. Just a few more days, they thought, and then the mutt would begin its process of maturing.
Huang stood by their side and admired the embryo as well. Though it was difficult to see, small scales were beginning to form on the mutt's lower half. The rest of it resembled a human's early development in the womb, still too far to be recognisable as a baby and looking more like a jellybean than anything.
"He agreed," Huang said. Sloane nodded. The decision of whose DNA to use for the first test in mental capacity had been difficult to settle on. When Sloane had remembered Chambray Hemingway, arrested last year during the climax of the Games, was free for them to access—well, Sloane didn't want to waste an opportunity.
And when they found out Calico Hemingway's body was still in Capitol hands, a simple request for tissue needing to be lodged, Sloane figured out how to test the mutts.
"I have to wonder about Calla's connection to them," Sloane mused. They walked to the freezer, where the Hemingways' samples were kept on ice. Despite needing Calla's consent, it was easier to have the samples handy alongside all the other potential substitutes for the tests. "Have to wonder a lot of things about him, actually."
Huang covered her mouth as she chuckled softly. "We all have our quirks," she reasoned, her tone light-hearted. "You refuse to have photos taken of yourself."
"I refuse to be caught looking unphotogenic," Sloane retorted.
"Quirk." Huang walked over to her desk, pulling the coat she'd left behind off of her chair. She shrugged it on and checked the pockets. "I think it's because he looks similar to them. Horace told me Calla almost went into hiding when the twins were outed during the interviews."
"Well, with the population as vast as it is, I wouldn't be surprised if that was all. There's bound to be someone in the Districts who looks like me and you."
The door slammed open. Sloane squawked, the samples in their hands almost dropped to the floor in their fright. They turned on the newcomer, ready to chew them out, but stopped at the sight of a frazzled, exhausted Valerian St. Clare.
All Sloane could do was laugh. Poor bastard definitely got more than he bargained for when he agreed to archive every Hunger Games and their subsequent consequences to date.
"Right on time," Huang deadpanned. Valerian looked to her, wild-eyed, and stumbled into the room. He fixed his blazer, pulling its shoulders back into place and adjusting its lapel.
"Ni—" Valerian doubled over once he reached Huang's desk. He struggled to catch his breath, and it was only now that Sloane noticed the thick sheen of sweat across his forehead. "We both fell asleep. Need to— Need to get used to the shifts—"
"You need to get used to the shifts," Sloane fired at him. "Nirav's spent the last decade working the mines during the daytime. You've had a more flexible schedule."
Valerian pointed at them, ready to argue back, but all he could manage was a wheeze before he dropped his hand. Instead his focus went to Huang, and his notepad was in his hand before Sloane could even laugh more at him. His argument was probably going to be about how difficult it is to be a shady information broker working for the underground.
"How's—" He cleared his throat. "How's progress?"
"We're on track," Sloane said. He was already jotting down words. "Magnus and I reviewed the arena design, and then Huang threw out some ideas for mutts. Since the Games are supposed to go back to being a punishment, we decided on… something ambitious."
"Something that's working so far," Huang jumped in. She was beaming, her dream coming true before her. "It took a few weeks of tinkering with the DNA split, but we finally got it down to a perfect formula—Sloane had a few eggs on ice that we used for initial testing, and once this one matures we'll be moving on to more specific designs."
Valerian looked up from his notepad, his gaze drifting to the embryo. "Sorry, what are the mutts this year supposed to be?"
Sloane grinned, the smuggest they'd felt in a long time. And so they should've been! This was history in the making, all because of them and Huang!
"The mutts are the tributes' families, Mr. St. Clare," they boasted. "After stage one—successful cloning—we move on to hijacking them."
And we have a look at what the mutts will be based on! I'm curious to see what you think they've been spliced with, so there's my CQ!
CQ #2: Which animal do you think the mutts have been spliced with?
I'll see you in prologue 3!