I honestly feel a little iffy about this chapter. While it is long, it was a struggle to produce; the words just didn't flow. Where I went wrong I don't know. Maybe my finals are getting to me.
In happier news, I have decided to begin writing Just A High Rolling District Boy, the sequel to Roulette. There is no definite date to when it will be uploaded, so keep a look out for it. In return, A Deck of 24 will be reduced to lesser updates (even though this one was over a week from the last). If you guys want, you can vote on my profile poll that will be shortly posted after this update.
All in all, thank you everyone for continuously reading and reviewing these series of one-shots! Sometime it's a challenge, but I enjoy writing them.
Creek Menendez, District Four: Agreement
Place in the 61st Hunger Games: 12th Place
"When we find him, I'm going to kill him. Alliance or not, he's dead to me."
The anthem plays.
Orazio is dead.
Looks like somebody beat her to it.
It's no coincidence when we take two collective steps back. I don't even know who else died, the recap flashing away shortly after my dead ally's face disappeared. I touch elbow-to-elbow with Valor, not caring of the close proximity with the muscular guy. He doesn't either.
Watching Domitia react is like finding a time bomb at the 00:02 mark. You know that you're going to die, but in that second of realization, you're stuck. Should I act or should I just accept my death? Instincts decide for you and the choice is simple: you act. Feet set, knives out, mind clear, if this alliance ends here and now, I'm ready. All of us stare at the Two girl in dead silence, dreading the moment it all goes to hell. While the Alliance stays intact, the same can't be said for her sanity. To start off her newfound psychosis, Domitia unleashes her anger out on a nearby window. By the time she's done slamming her fist repeatedly into it, we're left with a shattered window and a bloody Domitia. That is not enough for the girl.
The four of us watch in sheer amazement as the self-proclaimed leader of the Career Alliance is reduced to a temper tantrum throwing toddler. Slowly, she spins about the room banging, stomping, smashing, and crashing things in her wake. We step to the side, move to the left, move to the right, move forward, backward, all to flee the wrath of Domitia. This is ridiculous. District Two is supposed to be this high and mighty, holier-than-thou Career paradise and this is what they produce? Someone who beat out the other volunteers and the daughter of a Victor freaking out over her district partner's death? Give me a fucking break.
I don't understand why the Amazon is so distraught over Orazio being dead. She didn't seem to harbor any sentimental feelings over him, if the beast is capable of love. She tolerated him, treated the curly-haired dude with the same attitude she used with us. If anything, she should be celebrating. A Career is dead. One less serious threat we'll have to face in the end. Plus, we can sleep a little easier now. There was something seriously wrong with the Two kid. You could see it in his eyes, the crazed way he followed our movements or watched us sleep. I can't tell you how fast I gripped my knives when I woke up to see his gaze locked on me. Not to mention repeatedly explaining in detail just how he was going to kill each and every one of us, in particular me. I had done nothing to the guy except exist and he chose me for his plaything. We humored him, even Domitia, for none of us were stupid enough to do otherwise. Fact is we'd die before our weapon was drawn, no matter how much he begged us to slit his throat.
Praise Orazio's killer! If I could, I would give the dude a medal of honor for taking on and winning against the brute. Whoever or whatever killed him I don't give a damn. I'm just thankful the crazy one in our alliance is gone. On the other hand, seeing Domitia freak out makes me think we traded out the wrong Career.
"Pathetic," I hear Penelope grumble to herself. I have the suppress the laugh, fearing what would happen if I didn't. Valor eyes me suspiciously, questioning what could be so funny at a time like this.
She comes to a sudden stop, midway from slamming her fist against the door again.
"Hand me the medicine!" shouts the giant. Realizing how stupid she's made herself look in front of the cameras, the original order is quickly reestablished. Radiance busies herself with tending to Domitia's wounded hand, Valor assesses the damage done, and Penelope and I just try to stay out of everyone's way. After what happened first day in, we won't ever cross the line again. It all happened so suddenly. Domitia had us slaving over the crates. It didn't take a genius to see they were gonna be all empty but she didn't want to hear it. One thing lead to another and Penelope almost got us both killed. Both of us and I hadn't even done anything! Domitia hasn't let that day go and neither has Penelope. Daily it seems they argue. I keep whispering to Penelope that it's only a matter of time one of them snaps, but my pleas fall on deaf ears. If a fight does break out between the two, the person left standing will not be my district partner.
I hate Domitia. I seriously hate Domitia. I never thought I would say that about another person. Sure, there're dudes back home that annoy me and some I can't stand, but no one compares to her. She's bossy, rude, and a complete bitch. And she's ugly. Not like that really matters in the grand scheme of things, just thought I'd throw that in. Valor and Radiance, I don't have a problem with either of them. Valor is a pretty cool guy. Radiance keeps to herself and who doesn't like quality eye candy? Both are a little too arrogant sometimes and Radiance likes to be up Domitia's ass 24/7, but I can tolerate them. I'll still kill the District One pair when the time comes, but besides Penelope, they're the best alternative I've got in here.
Domitia starts her slew of orders, her devoted lackey glued to her side. "Head out to hunt. Valor gets Three, Five and Seven. I get Six, Eight and Eleven. You two," she points towards where we're standing. "Split Four, Nine, Ten, and Twelve. Radiance will cover One and protect the base."
It has to be Penelope to oppose her ruling. "We're not going into Ten. The place is crawling with mutts. Whoever went in there would be long dead now."
"You will be too if you don't do as I say Four," Domitia retorts. Putting on the night goggles we found in the Three building a few days back, not another word is said as we file out one by one into the main hallway and into the open abyss of the Arena. Flashes of fire and the occasional rumble guide us to our separate mission. Watching the determined Domitia and Valor sprint off inside the buildings, Penelope immediately join with me as we head inside the Four structure. I won't turn down backup I can trust.
We make a slow pace around the watery building. If this is supposed to represent our district, then the Gamemakers haven't seen Four in a day of their lives. The murky water on the first floor or the depressing steel walls looks nothing like the clear waves and beautiful skies of District Four. In fact, the shoddy replica makes me hate this place more. Coming into this, I thought I had it in the bag. Play it smart, lay low, kill, repeat. Much easier said than done. Now, my Career status means shit in this hellhole. Yeah, I'll get far if I don't do anything stupid, but far isn't winning.
We're silent as we scope out the skyscraper, listening out for any tributes or traps lurking behind the closed doors. Covering level after level, the quiet becomes too much to bear and soon it's Penelope who breaks the silence. The girl sure does like to run her mouth.
"Of course Radiance would get the easiest job to do. I swear the carpet muncher has a thing for One," she scoffs, sucking her teeth in the process.
I shake my head in amusement. "Let it go," I say, half-joking and half-serious. The constant bickering between Penelope and Domitia is getting old, and from the eyerolls Valor gives them, I'm not the only one who agrees. At this point, I don't care who's right or wrong. I just want the girls to shut up. Must be on their periods or something. "I know we have a sexually frustrated ape as a leader but would you get over it and move on?"
"Alright, alright I will," she sighs, disappointed that I haven't joined in on the 'Let's bash Domitia' party of one. "But aren't you tired of her? Can't we just end the Alliance now and double team the bitch?"
Throughout this time, Penelope has been walking a few steps behind guarding my back. Now, I stop and whip my head to face her. She bumps right into me, so caught up in her crackpot plan that she didn't realize I've stopped moving. Before this, I've come to tolerate, even respect my district partner. She's a decent person, wicked with knives, and from home. Yet looking at her, now I see how…unintelligent she is. Is that even the right word to use? To think we could end the Alliance now is just plain stupid. Who in their right mind ends it this early in the Games? Only under extreme circumstances or do incredibly skilled Careers take on the biggest threats in the Games. This isn't last year. The majority of the others are still alive and well. Most importantly, we aren't that good to take them on this early. I don't know if we're good enough to take them on period.
"You've got to be kidding me," I say, hoping she is but knowing better.
The short girl shakes her head confidently, black ponytail swinging. "Why would I be? We're strong, Careers, got enough supplies and weapons to hold out on our own. Sponsors are probably lining up to send us gifts," she tries to convince me.
"The others are strong, we aren't the only Careers in the Arena, the supplies on us now wouldn't last us two days, and we haven't seen one parachute since the start of the Games," I shoot down all of her points. Penelope needs to face the reality of our situation. Yes, our supply pile is a fairly decent size. The wooden spear from the Cornucopia, metal ones we found lying around the Arena, three swords, throwing knives, packs of jerky, dried and fresh fruit, and energy bars (sadly no Vroom! Vroom! Bars), a few medical supplies, and one water bottle for each of us. But we're not strong enough to just buck the system and go solo. We are the weakest link in the Career Alliance. We wouldn't make it a day without them hunting us down, not after Orazio's betrayal. I know it, the others know it. Hell, the audience probably knows it too.
"If Orazio can do it, why can't we?"
"Orazio also died the same day he abandoned us."
She puts her hands on her hips, frustrated that this debate isn't going the way she planned. What, did she expect me to just hop on board no questions asked? Please. "Who knows what killed him. Besides, the only tribute we've been able to find in this damn place was that Six girl I caught two days back. If Queen Domitia can't hunt down scared, untrained children, how in the hell is she gonna find us?"
My eyebrows go up in surprise. A smile tugs at her lips. She does have a point and she realizes it. From a Career perspective, we're a pathetic pair this year. Near day six and scored a laughable three kills at the bloodbath, one in the second bloodbath, and just one more after that. We're not totally to blame; this Arena is confusing, like it's been designed against us Careers. Most of the buildings were swamped with supplies, easy access for the others to survive. Not the Career buildings. One, Two, and Four were left with little to nothing to choose from. Who knows what the others snatched up by the time we searched through the rest. No sponsor system either, our main source of support. Not even the slightest bit of vegetation. And no telling why we've had barely any luck killing off the others. What the hell is that music and smoke bullshit? Rather conspiracy or lack of skill on our part, all I know is that we need to do something fast, or else. The Careers can't fall out of the Capitol's favor. That's not how the Games work. It's not right. It's not fair!
I wrack my brain trying to come up with a good response. She has me beat. "I'm still not doing it," is what I can manage. A sudden idea pops in my head. I decide to go with it. Let's see if she's dumb enough to take the bait.
I fold my arms, leaning lazily on the cold steel walls. "And really, what makes you think I'd ally with you?"
Our knives are out. Hook, line, and sinker. At the Career Academy, words like that are just silly banter. In the Games, it's a threat. Not a breath is taken as the other waits to take action. If Penelope's truly the idiot she's quickly showing herself to be, I'm not afraid to end this little friendship right now. The shorter girl can flick a knife in my chest with the snap of a finger, but I'm fast, and strong. We had the same Victors mentoring us. I've seen Penelope at work. I know her weaknesses. Take away her knives and she's an easy kill.
"Put your weapon down Creek," she barks, infuriated at the extreme turn of events. To go from becoming a possible duo to killing your district partner in a matter of minutes is quite shocking. Hey, this is the Hunger Games. Expect the unexpected.
"Ladies first," I mock the hideously fat woman assigned to be our escort. She picks up on the joke and lets out a short snort. Her knives haven't moved an inch.
To show that I'm not ready to kill her just yet, I brave it out and store my weapons away. My hands are up in the air. Wide open. "You failed."
Penelope is confused, cocking her head to the side. The grip on her knives tightens. "Failed what?"
"The test," I say flatly, deliberately playing with her emotions. Again she falls for it. My district partner isn't bright at all.
Her foot stomps the ground, metal shaking and echoing the sound throughout the building. Way to give our location away. "Quit playing games and tell me what you mean Creek!"
"Okay, okay," I throw my hands up in surrender again, chuckling at her outburst. One more taunt and I might find a knife in my throat for real. "You're too impulsive to rough it out on your own. Have you as a leader and we'd be dead two days tops." My expression grows serious. "Penelope, be rational. When the time comes, the time comes. Right now, let's stick it out and play it by ear."
Scrunching up her eyebrows, she knows I'm right. Will she admit it? Not a chance in hell.
Back to the mission at hand. We continue creeping through the quiet hallways, the same positions as before. I'm anxious to find something, anything to get my hands on. Another bottle of water would be pretty awesome. Just thinking about our unusually low supply of it tempts me to take another swig of my own. Eventually we realize nothing's in the building and move on to the next. Nothing in the Nine building either except a few things of pita bread. It's soft and seems safe, so we split the snack for a quick meal. Completely skipping the Ten building, our slower steps inside Twelve match the nervous thoughts we have about entering it. No one with an ounce of sense would go waltzing in willy nilly inside a place that went up in flames first day in and now looks virtually untouched. I can't trust the Gamemakers. This skyscraper means trouble.
Heat greets us inside first thing in. This is ridiculous. It's much hotter than the other buildings. Is it a play on their industry, coal mining? Or is it just this warm in Twelve? I never paid attention to the poorest district of Panem (who does?) but I wouldn't imagine it being this hot. Guess I'll find out if, excuse me, when I go on my Victory Tour.
Our jackets don't even make it to the second level. Bodies sweating, I contemplate taking off the leather boots we were issued and going barefoot until I realize how many ways I could wound myself and go septic. I give Penelope a look over to see she isn't faring any better. She isn't. Careful sips are slurped from our bottles, determined not to waste any but not pass out from dehydration or heat exhaustion at the same time. Why is it so damn hot in here? I don't understand what the purple robes are playing at. Both tributes from Twelve are long dead now and who would think to hide in this building, with or without the inferno?
"Kinda reminds you of summer back home," Penelope talks, sounding more exhausted than a Career should be. "Boy were the days hot back then. The sand too. You couldn't keep the younger kids out of the water."
"Now is not the time or the temperature for mushy talk Penelope." I whip my damp black hair back as we share a quick laugh. After the little stunt I pulled earlier, our camaraderie went a little south. That doesn't stop a conversation from forming. I wish it would. What has got the girl reminiscing over home, especially while out hunting? Distractions like this are dangerous in the Arena and definitely not allowed in such a quiet, cramped one like this. Get to talking and you get too comfortable. Before you know it, something sneaks up on you and BAM!, you're dead. I've worked too hard to go out like that, by a surprise attack. I have the smarts to see this but Penelope clearly doesn't.
"And the sweet ice the old man outside the Career Academy used to pass out," she continues. "You remember those?"
"Yes."
"What was your favorite flavor? Mine was the pineapple. Damn I can use one right about now."
"Oh okay."
Hearing her stop makes me stop. "What?" I struggle to form an interested expression when I'm more concerned about my skin catching fire.
Her button nose wrinkles up on her tanned skin, her beady black eyes matching my own. She looks like a sun-kissed, confused little puppy. Could be considered cute given more normal, saner circumstances. "Don't you miss home Creek?" she asks, reading my face for any sign of emotion.
"It's the reason why I'm trying to be quiet so we can find some tributes," I whisper this time, angry at her insistence to drag up memories of Four. Of course I miss home. I miss the Career Academy, the guys out at the harbor, my crewmates. Real food. Fresh air. Water. Even old Kale, the lazy drunk I've had the displeasure calling captain since I was little tike. All the years of training still couldn't prepare me for a place like this. We're taught to fight and survive in the wilderness, because that's the most common Arena. Rocky, forest, beach, desert. Some type of vegetation. But an industrial, "closed" Hunger Games?
Miraculously, we find a spot cool enough to rest in. Only for a minute though. No telling what the Gamemakers have up their robes. Treasuring tiny drops from our bottles, I finally give in to talking about my thoughts. It was going to happen eventually.
"I saw them," I say, swiping away my overgrown hair. I need a haircut.
Penelope looks up, curious to what I'm talking about. "Saw who?"
"The District Ten kid they keep talking about, him and his posse. Had his district partner with him this time."
Up on her feet, knives ready, already she's lusting for blood. "When? Where? Why didn't you let us know?" I'm waiting on her to finish the English lesson and ask me 'Why? How often? To what extent?' She doesn't seem to be in a joking mood anymore.
"Calm down girl," I pat at her leg, knocking her over a little in the process. "It was earlier today. You were all still asleep and by the time I woke everyone up, they would have been gone." Actually I just didn't feel up to hunting. I don't feel up to anything anymore.
Before I know what's happening, I blurt out the words no tribute should ever say in the Games. "I don't like it in here Penelope."
For once I've left my district partner speechless. My head cast down in shame, I turn away from her. I half expect Penelope to kill me now. She has every right to. I've embarrassed myself, my family, our district, our country, the president. A Career, someone who volunteered for this, admitting defeat and speaking against the Hunger Games. A small act of rebellion in the eyes of the Capitol. Cameras all zoomed in on our conversation, I can imagine what everyone thinks of me now, how my poll numbers are plummeting. Damn her for getting me all emotional!
Still not a peep out of her. I continue on. "What? You kept badgering me about my feelings and now you don't like the truth. Well fuck you."
I think I'm going insane when I hear her voice whisper, "Me neither."
In that moment, we lock eyes and something happens. Something horrible happens. We finally understand the point of the Hunger Games. Not for fame or fortune or glory. But to break us, segregate us, kill us figuratively and literally. Now I understand the victors' subtle warnings throughout the years, why my crewmates, the most rough and tumble pair of dudes you'll ever meet, bawled their eyes out when they said their goodbyes. How foolish we look spewing bullshit about district pride and performing for the audience. Killing each other to get home? What are our families thinking of? I was never friends with Penelope, little more than friendly acquaintances, but to volunteer to kill the daughter of the friendly man I sell crabs to every week? What kind of human being am I?
Tears are in our eyes but we won't let them fall. Not while the cameras are watching. There is still an ounce of fight left in us.
"I killed a little girl," utters Penelope, more to herself than to me. "I killed the little Six girl. She was only twelve."
"She never stood a chance. Either you or someone else. Twelve-year-olds never win," I try to reassure her. With the slump in her shoulders and mouth trembling, it's not working.
Suddenly she springs up, wiping the tears away, fierce and determined. It's as if she's completely forgot about what she's done. "Creek, let's make an agreement."
"On what?"
Biting her lower lip, she begins. "If I…were to lose, could you look after my family?"
I hesitate. Is it even allowed for me to care for the losing tribute's family? Whatever the answer to that question is, I can't tell the girl no. It would be cruel to. And her family is watching. So is mine.
"Without a doubt," I answer. "Lana, Brooke, and Kendall your sisters?"
Her black eyes light up, surprised that I remember them all. "Yep. Watch out for Brooke though. She's a handful." We laugh for a bit until it's my turn to ask a favor.
"Look out after mine too if, you know, it happens," I say. She nods her head, sweat dripping down her forehead. "Reece is my younger brother. He looks up to me you know? Thinks his big bro can do it all." The thought of my rambunctiously independent little brother puts a smirk on my face. I gotta make him proud, show him his big bro is the jack-of-all-trades he makes me out to be.
"You'll make him proud. We're Careers. We'll win. Deal?" Her hand is held out in front of me, manicured nails chipped and broken. I grab the short girl's moist palm and look her straight in the eye.
"Deal."
We don't mention just how we plan to win the Hunger Games. That it may come down between me and her in the end. That I'll have to kill my district partner and the friendly restaurant owner's daughter in the process. That in the back of my head, I know that neither of us will come out of here alive.
Wishful thinking never hurt anyone though. Like I said before: expect the unexpected.
In a crowded restaurant by the docks of Four, groups of people, both fisherman and landworker, customer and visitor, Career and non-Career, sit and watch the last of their tributes die. No one, supporter or opposer of the Games, would enjoy watching the girl shout for her father as her feet, legs, arms, and head is slowly grinded to pieces. They were so strong, had promise, and the Gamemakers treated them like this? One group in particular, two young teens, one boy, one girl, sit in the corner of the restaurant. Their soft cries are overshadowed by the audience surrounding the girl's parents, one in shock and the other fainted. The girl weeps for the older sister that'll never tell her how to be the perfect Victor once she volunteers. The boy remembers the older brother he won't ever go fish diving with again.
The District Four tributes failed their brother and sister. They failed everyone.
Note: About the 'district pride' part, I got the idea from Ch. 11 of Roulette, long before the movie came out. Just in case anyone thought I copied Cato's monologue in the Cornucopia scene.
