Technically, none of you can be mad at me for being late on this update because I did warn you about it! …it doesn't matter and you're still mad? …you hate me and have dropped this story? … you don't really care because I only posted one chapter? Let's just get on with it, shall we?
DISCLAIMER
I do not own the Hunger Games or any characters associated with the books/movie or anything associated with 21 Jump Street.
DISTRICT 13
Old Enemies Die Hard
"Is he okay?
"Yeah, sure. He'll be fine."
"I don't know Mitch…he got hit pretty hard."
"Hey! I told you not to call me that!"
"Sorry Hamy."
"Oh for the love of God!"
"Ugh…"
"Shh… He's waking up!"
Who the hell is talking? They're so annoying!
Wait a minute…how am I hearing this?
Aren't I supposed to be dead? I specifically remember that brute from District 2 stabbing me in the chest. What was his name again? It was something weird…like Crater…or Cocoon…or Potato…Wait! What the hell am I doing? I should be focused on why I seem to be hearing a conversation that I am pretty sure isn't just in my head.
Okay so after I got stabbed I heard a cannon go off and then I blacked out. Hold on…the cannon blasts to signify the death of a Tribute. How could I have heard mine if I was dead? Unless…it wasn't mine…who knows?
"When will you explain it all to him?"
"When he wakes up."
"That's kind of a lot to deal with. Won't he be overwhelmed?"
"He was just in the fucking Hunger Games! I think he can deal."
"Whatever you say Mitch."
"I swear to god Finnick, I will KILL you."
"Will you two shut the fuck up?" I groaned. I attempted to open my eyes but shut them tight right after due to the beam of light shining in my face.
"Sorry kid, Mitch can be whiny at times." The man, whom I assumed to be Finnick, told me.
Finnick. Why does that name sound so familiar?
I tried opening my eyes again, slowly this time, and found myself adjusting to the light. I looked up into the sea foam green eyes of the man named Finnick and immediately recognized the victor of the 65th Hunger Games.
"Finnick Odair?"
"The one and only." He smirked.
"What the hell is going on here?" I propped myself up against the headboard of the medical cot and looked at the two men in my room. "One minute I'm dead and the next I'm in some dark room with two pedophiles."
Finnick got up abruptly and motioned between himself and Mitch. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! We are not pedophiles."
"Well I'm a thirteen year old boy in a bed and you're two oldies who I can only hope were just watching me sleep." I looked between the two and raised my brow. "You do the math."
Finnick huffed. "Okay, First of all, and I can't speak for Grandpa here; I am not an oldie… I am only nineteen. Second of all, nothing perverted happened and you'll be inclined to know that we're trying to help you."
"Help me?" I questioned. This is just one confusing conversation. "How are you and… Haymitch? Haymitch Abernathy? Is that you?"
I looked over at the gruff man sitting in the corner and lone and behold there sat the only live victor of District 12.
"Yes, it's me, Haymitch Abernathy. The answer to the question 'who saved your sorry ass after you nearly died in that arena?'"
Oh yeah! I forgot I almost died. Wait…"I almost died? I thought I did die. The cannon blasted and everything."
"Well we were going to explain all that once you woke up but you jumped right on the molestation train and didn't give us the chance." He snapped.
"Oops." I blushed. "Yeah, sorry about that one. My mind just got stuck in the gutter, teenage boy, hormones, you know the drill."
"Boy do I!" Finnick confessed.
"Can it fish boy." Haymitch threatened. Then he turned to me. "Make yourself comfortable kid…and don't interrupt."
I pushed myself up fully and sat criss-cross applesauce, nodding at the man to begin talking.
"Alright where to begin..? First of all when a Tribute is killed they are sent here-"
"I thought they were sent to the Capitol?" I interjected.
"What did I just say about interrupting?" Haymitch growled.
"Sorry." I mumbled. I really should work on not cutting people off like that…
"So as I was saying-"
"Wait a minute! Does that mean we're in the Capitol?" Shut up Peeta!
"No!" Haymitch snapped. "When a Tribute dies in the Games they are sent here, to District 13-"
"District 13? I thought it was bombed." Seriously Peeta, shut the fuck up!
Haymitch was livid. "Keep your mouth shut or I'll sew it that way!"
"Great," Finnick picked at some dirt under his nails. "Now you've got him all riled up."
"Sorry dude." I smiled sheepishly at him and hoped that would get me out of his wrath ray. Fortunately, it did the trick.
"You are going to be a handful aren't you?"
I brought my hand to my lips and mimicked zipping them shut and finally threw the key away and shook my head.
"Blondie learns quickly," Finnick approved. "Plus he's got some sass!"
I nodded at Haymitch cheekily. He just sighed.
"Okay, so when a Tribute dies they are sent here, to District 13 to fix up, you know, if they weren't mangled too badly in the arena. For the families of those who were they receive the clothes that their loved one was wearing and anything on them at the time. Once we fix them up, we send them back to the Capitol who then sends them to their families. Questions?"
"Why doesn't the Capitol just do it?" I asked.
"It's dirty work." Finnick replied.
"Okay, so what about me then?"
"That's a difficult situation." Haymitch began. "As you know, the Capitol embedded a tracker in your arm to keep track of you at all times in the arena. However, it also doubles as a heart rate monitor to detect your pulse. Once your pulse is out so are you."
"So are you saying my heart stopped?" I asked.
"Well," Haymitch began. "No actually. The stab that you received in the arena didn't quite kill you."
What the FUCK! I didn't die? Then how in the hell…
Haymitch, sensing my confusion jumped in to save the day. "This actually happens more than you think. When that Tribute from District 2 stabbed you he didn't kill you…"
"What!?" I was shocked.
I specifically remember that fucker chasing me down and stabbing me in the heart. I mean, he did stab me in the heart…right?
I looked down to me chest and pulled the neckline of the white t-shirt away and found smooth skin, not a blemish in sight.
What the fuck?
"Okay, what's going on here?" I looked up at the two men in front of me. "I see no scar and my mind is still thoroughly shitting bricks."
Finnick just laughed at me and crossed over the room to get a drink from the fountain. "We told you we fix the dead Tributes up; make them look all pretty for their families."
"So you got rid of my scar, just like that?" I scoffed. Is this guy for real?
"Yes. The capitol has the technology to do so and they sent it to us to do their dirty work." Finnick gulped down the rest of his water then threw the Styrofoam cup into the trash can.
"Alright, so let me get this straight. I was stabbed by that brute…yes?"
"Yes." Haymitch and Finnick replied in unision.
"And the stab wasn't fatal?"
"No."
"But it seemed fatal and I was sent here?"
"Exactly."
"Okay, this is the part where I say 'What the fuck?'"
Haymitch sighed and walked over to me. "The stab was enough to slow your heart rate enough to a point where your tracker announced you dead."
"How is that possible, how could I have survived a stab wound to the heart?"
"Well, it had something to do with the angle…what did Dr. Aurelius say?" Haymitch looked to Finnick who shrugged his shoulders.
"Uh…force of the blade…something about an artery…I think…"
"Yeah!" Haymitch jumped up. "The femoral artery I'm pretty sure…"
"…No, no…that's in the thigh..."
"Are you shitting me?" I shouted. "Do you seriously not know how the fuck I'm alive?"
"Uh…" Finnick tapped his chin thoughtfully. "No. Not really."
"How dumb are you two?" I snapped.
"Hey! Shut it kid!" Haymitch growled.
Finnick defended his honour. "Yeah! That doctor said a lot of medical crap and you're lucky to be sitting there and hearing it."
"Well I'm actually not hearing it-"
"SHUT UP!" Haymitch growled. "You sir need to know when to zip you lip!"
Don't I know it. Damn good for nothing mouth.
"Sorry." I muttered.
"So to sum up," Finnick stood up and began pacing back and forth. "You got stabbed in the arena, you did not die but your tracker announced you dead, you were sent here to District 13 to get fixed up, and now we're explaining this all to you."
"Huh." I nodded. I mean, it's quite simple really. It does make some sense. You know…I'm pretty badass. I survived a fucking stab wound! Well, there's no scar to prove it but I have at least two guys who can vouch for me…I'm sure it's on TV somewhere in the Capitol…they record everything in those damn Games. Hold on…
"Are the Games still on?" I asked.
"Yes," Haymitch answered. "There in the final days though…only three Tributes left."
"My money's on District 4." Finnick piped up.
Haymitch scoffed. "Says the Victor from District 4."
Finnick just shrugged. "What can I say, kids good with a spear."
While Haymitch and Finnick continued bickering over the remaining tributes I decided to make my presence known. "Excuse me," I cleared my throat, "who are the remaining Tributes exactly?"
"Oh, uh…" Finnick thought it over. "The boy from District 4, the girl from one, and the guy from seven…I think?"
"Really? District seven? He couldn't even hold a sword!" I shouted. "Pretty embarrassing to lose to him."
"He's just hiding out in some ditch," Finnick explained. "Not that interesting."
Yeah, I guess that's kind of lame. Then again he's alive and I'm…well I'm alive too so…how hard can it be? Hold on…that means that idiot from two is dead!
"Hey Mitch!" I shouted.
Haymitch fumed at me then went in to attack mode on Finnick. "See what your blabbering caused! Now you've got him saying it!"
Finnick just laughed while wiping a tear from his eye. "I like you," he said to me. "And you," he gestured to Haymitch, "have this hilarious vein above your eye that just…POPS…when you're angry…it's hilarious."
"Shut up merman," Haymitch growled, then turned to me. "What did you want?"
"Oh right…is that uh Tribute from two dead then?"
Haymitch looked at me with malice and an evil smirk spread on his face.
Shit.
"Oh I'm going to enjoy this." He laughed.
"What's going on?" I looked to Finnick to answer and he just gave me and innocent smile.
"You know, I kind of owe him this one. And I'm pretty excited to see where this will go." He answered.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Cato had a malfunctioning Tracker." Haymitch began. "At some point in the game a Tribute knocked him off a cliff and he fell unconscious. The hit reset his Tracker causing the same phenomena you experienced, a fake death."
I swear to god if he is insinuating what I think he is…
"You're merry friend Cato is here right now…in District 13."
Fuck me…
"And you're going to be spending a lot of time with him."
Say what?
"Didn't you ever wonder what was going to happen to you now that you're here?" Haymitch asked me.
"I thought I was…well…shit. Well what's happening then?"
Haymitch laughed at me and sat in the stool on the side wall.
"You, my thorn in my side, are going to begin training."
"Training for what?"
What the fuck is going on?
"The Rebellion." Haymitch's smile grew wider as he said, "and you're partner in crime will be your lovely friend Cato."
You've got to be fucking me!
I shot out of bed and attempted to strangle the Victor of 12. "You've got to be fucking kidding me! I'm not going anywhere near that pig-headed fucker you smelly bastard!"
Meanwhile Finnick just sat back and watched the show. "Boom…and shit hits the fan."
YEEHAW! Two chappies! Stay tuned for updates annually, so I'll see you next September!
Ha…jokes!
But seriously, not really.
