I awoke to the sound of someone knocking on the front door, I sat up in bed, especially tired after doing research into the small hours of the morning. My hair was disheveled, dark circles under my eyes, and a ratty-looking five 'o' clock shadow. I had not showered in 2 days. I put on a robe and shuffled to the door. The gray case that had started it all sat on my dining table, amidst a chaotic mess of papers and other research materials. A poster board hung on the wall, decorated with names and pictures, each connected to each other by a series of lines. It could be the story of the century.
I opened the door, it was one of my friends and contacts. Corporal Victus Antica, a soldier in the Republic army. As a member of a military intelligence team, Victus had access to a few otherwise restricted resources.
"Whoa, man. When is the last time you bathed?" was the first thing he said. I had asked him to dig up records on the peacekeepers mentioned in the disciplinary transcript. Darius Cooper and Romulus Thread. A briefcase was tucked under his arm, which was all I cared about.
"Is that it?" I asked, pointing to the briefcase.
"Yep, peacekeeper personnel files district 12, year 560-561." He handed me the case. "Let me know when you're done and I'll take it back. If you need to save anything, write it on another piece of paper, if stuff is missing it's my ass on the line."
"Thanks Victus, I'll be in touch soon." I replied.
"Just shower at least once before I come back," He turned and walked away, I shut the door behind him. I found a clear spot on the coffee table and set it down. I sighed, my mess had just spread to another piece of furniture. I opened it up and looked through the files. I found the two, Romulus Thread and Darius Cooper. Looking through Darius' file, he appeared to have had regular dealings with the black market as a customer. He was a young man, 21 years of age, born and raised in district 2. Paging through his record, I discovered that he had been discharged and punished as an Avox. He had been condemned for attempting to prevent the whipping of Gale Hawthorn, as mentioned in the disciplinary transcript. He was later arrested and tortured to death during the rebellion.
I put his file back, he would certainly be of no use to me. I pulled the file for Romulus Thread. A fanatically loyal and ruthless, he was the model peacekeeper. Despite his loyalties to the capitol, he did have a slight dislike for the Coriolanus Snow administration, believing the man's predecessor to be a better ruler. Nevertheless, he followed orders to the letter. He faced trial after the war, he used a plea of "following orders" and avoided a sentence along with many other peacekeepers. The record goes on to state that he returned to District 2 after the war. I had hit a jackpot. Through one of my outer district friends, I was able to contact him, and arranged a meeting.
I finally took a shower and shaved. I booked a train ticket and packed for the trip. I brought with me a change of clothes, and a tripod camera along with a few files on the Mockingjay. I arrived at the train station ahead of schedule, and sat on the platform bench bored until the train drifted into the station. The trip from the Capitol to District 2 would take less than a day. As I took my seat, a man caught my eye. An older gentleman, with an unkempt beard and dark hair. On his head was a hat with the words "Civil War Veteran". At lunch, I made a point to meet him in the dining car.
"Excuse me sir, I see you fought in the civil war, do you mind if I ask you some questions? I'm a writer for the EPB."
"Sure, I'd be more than happy to answer them!" He replied in a cheery tone. I wasn't able to record the conversation, but I did learn a bit about the woman I was pursuing. His name was Farlan Kale, a rebel soldier during the fighting District 5. We sat down at a booth together with our meals, I ran back to my seat to recover one of the files and returned soon after.
"Are you familiar with the term 'Mockingjay?" I asked first and foremost.
"Of course I am," He replied. "The bird the capitol never intended. That was our symbol, we had it everywhere, our flags, on the sides of military vehicles. It's even on my hat, see?" He took of his hat and showed it to me. Behind the words was a gold embroidered mockingjay holding an arrow in its beak.
"Alright, what about "Girl on Fire?" Farlan hesitated for a second. He bit his lip, deep in thought.
"I haven't thought about her in a long time. I think she was like some kind of actress or model or something. Did all kinds of propos for the war effort."
"Did you know her name by any chance?"
"Can't say I do."
"Was this her?" I slid the picture across the table. He looked at it, and gave a slight nod.
"Yep, that was her alright… what kind of story are you writing anyway?"
"It's just a story," I asked a few more questions, but didn't get any answer I was hoping for. I thanked Farlan for his time, and returned to my seat. I was dishearten afterwards, was that it? Was she merely a propaganda actress? But then why would the documents claim she had been in the Hunger Games? Or why did they say that she had in fact won? Despite public record supporting Peeta Mellark as victor. Perhaps Romulus Thread could answer these questions. The mere thinking of the subject drove me up the wall as I waited to reach my destination. Just the thought, at the front of the war, here was this girl, a victor who trailed across the headlines, inspiring the people to rise up… and then disappeared from history.
I awoke from my nap just as the train entered District 2. District 2 consisted of dozens of villages stretching across the great mountain range. It inhabitants were the descendants of the first pioneers who left the Capitol in the old days. It primarily dealt with masonry and mining. It also contained a good deal of military facilities, fitting, as the region was set up as a defensive barrier to protect the Capitol. The train pulled into the station and I hopped off. The district station was nowhere near as glamorous as the Capitol facilities, but it was definitely better off than it was pre-civil war. As was to be expected for district 2, a large group of soldiers were waiting on the adjacent platform. I took a tram to one of the outer villages. The village was small, and known as "The Fort". The village was used for the housing and training of security force recruits. I walked in to the main building, and was greeted by a bored secretary. I informed her of my appointment and was directed to a waiting area. I sat there with two others. I could see a door labeled with the name Romulus Thread. After ten minutes, the door creaked open, and Romulus stepped out. An intimidating fellow with cold piercing eyes. Despite his age of 63, he still appears in remarkable physical shape. Once the feared and sadistic captain of the district 12 peacekeepers, he now works as a combat instructor for civilian law enforcement.
"Which one of you is Marcus Fidelis?" he said, pointing to the three people. I raised my hand and stood up. "Great, right this way." He motioned me into his office and shut the door. "So they tell me you're a journalist." He reached out for a handshake. I shook his hand and introduced myself, he in turn did the same.
"Do you mind if I film this interview?" I asked rather nervously. His intimidating eyes and calm composure was more than a little unnerving.
"Sure, go right ahead." He replied. I set up my tripod camera and took a seat on the opposite side of his desk, the file in hand.
"So as you know, the first batch of documents was released pertaining to the civil war and events leading up to it."
"I pleaded guilty to war crime charges, and was acquitted by the court." He said expressionlessly, cutting me off.
"That isn't the point of the interview," I said, laughing rather nervously. Romulus remained stoic. "You see, in a batch of documents, I unearthed this file." I placed it onto his desk and opened it, I turned it around so he could read. "It's a transcript of a disciplinary record from district 12, year 559."
He, pulled his chair closer and leaned over the documents. He put on a pair of reading glasses and looked over the transcript. "Now it says here that someone identified as Girl on Fire interrupted the punishment and that you proceeded to strike her with a whip. I was wondering if you knew anything about this Girl on Fire."
His stoic expression broke, and he cracked a smile. "Now that is something I haven't thought about in a long time…" He said, leaning back in his chair.
"So you knew her?" I asked, my heart pounding with excitement.
"Girl on Fire fit her right, everything she touched went up in smoke. She was one of the poorer district folks, which was until she got her house in the Victors Village. She was on our watch list, in big, bold, highlighted, red letters."
"Do you know her name?"
He paused for a second, thinking. "The last name was Everdeen, I definitely remember that. I think her first name was something with a K."
I made a mental note of that, the Mockingjay's last name was Everdeen. "Now you said that she had a house in Victors Village, was she a victor?"
He looked at me like I was stupid. "Well I'd say yes, she was."
"Ok, but for whatever reason, public record lists a, Peeta Mellark as the victor of the 74th hunger games, the same hunger games that the record states she was a part of."
"Well I never watched the games myself, truth be told not many outside the capitol did. So I can't tell you much about what happened there."
"I see, now, the disciplinary record says she interfered with the punishment of a criminal, can you tell me about what happened there?"
"Can do," He leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. "I was in the head peacekeepers house, doing some work in my office. When I heard a knock on the door, I opened to see a kid, maybe eighteen or nineteen, he had a wild turkey in his hands. He looked surprised, likely expecting my predecessor, the 'oh so corrupt', Cray Jones. He had been poaching outside the district fence, on the Capitols land. Since he confessed, I decided to spare him from execution. I decided that a good scourging in the square would be enough. Around halfway through, one of the peacekeepers tried to intervene. Little guy, not sure what made him think he could take me, so I knocked him out."
He paused, and a slight smile came across his face. "And then she came along. That bitch ran right into the square and tried to stop me. A little sixteen your old girl against a trained and experienced peacekeeper. I struck her down with the whip. It turns out the man I was punishing was one of her friends, they were both poachers, dealt in the black market, etc."
"And if this record is correct, the man being whipped was none other than Gale Hawthorn right?"
"You certainly did your research, good old senator Hawthorn. Who knew he was such a dumb kid. Of course maybe the real idiot is me, I voted for him." He laughed, clearly finding a bit of humor in the events that unfolded.
"So did she back down after you hit her?" I asked.
"Are you kidding me? The crazy bitch was right up again. I drew my sidearm, threatened her to back off, and then out of nowhere, comes none other than Haymitch Abernathy. He yells at me, said she had some photo shoot or some crap. I let them go, they took Hawthorn with them. I was upset, but at least I left a nice scar on her face for that photo shoot."
"And who was Haymitch Abernathy?" I asked, already seeing a possible lead.
"He was the town drunk basically, but he was a victor in one of the hunger games."
"Do you know if Ms. Everdeen is still alive?" I asked, the more info I could get, the better.
"Is she still alive?" He had somewhat perplexed look. "Well I suppose it is hard for bad guys like us to die, the real heroes always seem to die first."
I proceeded to ask him a few more questions about the war. When the war started, he and the other peacekeepers were evacuated before district 12 was firebombed. He would spend the rest of the war in the Capitol, mostly at his desk, reading over the daily casualty reports. When rebel forces arrived, he and many other officers surrendered.
Satisfied with his answers, I thanked him for taking the time to meet with me, and left. After checking into an inn, I booked a train ticket for the next day. Then I made a call to my friend Adam. He answered, and I filled him in on the details.
"Her last name is Everdeen, can you look through census records? See how many Everdeens show up and let me know?" I asked, now that I had a name, I knew where to look.
"I'll see if they have any of that on public record. Talk to you soon." He hung up, I turned my attention to my next lead. Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the 50th hunger games. More importantly, it meant he was a mentor for the district 12 tributes. Meaning that he could tell me a great deal about Ms. Everdeen, the mockingjay. Knowing his name and district number, finding him was as simple as looking into the District 12 phone directory. I also looked for anyone with the name Everdeen, no luck. Hopefully the pre-war census records would show a result. The phone rang, and rang, until finally someone picked up.
"Hello?" a voice answered, soft and feminine.
"Hello, my name is Marcus Fidelis, I'm a reporter and journalist for the EPB, Is Haymitch Abernathy there?"
"Oh… Mr. Abernathy passed away last month." The voice answered.
"Oh, I-Im so sorry… I had no idea." I responded.
"He wasn't family, but he did offer me some employment, now I'm here cleaning the mess he left behind."
"If it isn't too much trouble, can I ask you some questions about him?"
"I'll try to answer as best I can." She said.
Her name was Hazelle Hawthorn, she worked as a house keeper for Haymitch Abernathy. After he passed away at the age of 62 of liver failure, she took it upon herself to at least finish cleaning out his home in the victor's village. In life, he was known as being drunk and disorderly, but apparently played a part in the rebellion. I asked for more details, however she could provide none.
After I hung up, I fell back onto my bed and rubbed my hands down my face, letting out an exasperated sigh. Once again, the Mockingjay had evaded my search.