So... Here we are.
I can only apologise for the enormous time it has taken me to get this update down.
I do intend to get these things done quickly. And when I really get into the swing I can write like thousands of words in a single sitting. But this Chapter was spread out.
Having said that, I wrote about 75% of the chapter in the last few days alone. I've been struggling to find the time and energy to sit down and have a proper writing session in the past few months, but I am so glad I did.
I really enjoyed writing this Chapter, and I hope you enjoy reading it too. I've really spiced it up and done a few new things that'll hopefully make it nice to read. It's also around about 10,000 words so it's definitely my longest one so far, so hopefully that takes some of the sting out of the months it took to get it to you.
So I've only got four reapings left and then we're onto the more exciting stuff. And I've already got plans for Nine and I've written some of Ten so fingers crossed that I wont be such a menace with these next updates.
But anyway, you didn't wait since August to listen to me waffle.
Enjoy
Chapter Eight
Strife
Eloise Falcon
17 Years Old, Female, District Eight
"Oh... I can only apologise for the locale…" She apologetically muttered as she walked. "I did specifically ask the Mayor where the nicest view in the District was, and this is what he gave me to work with… Oh Honestly..." Our Escort continued in a most melancholy tone as she strolled across the thin walkway, which led onto a large concrete structure that I imagined was some form of landing pad for hovercraft. There was a refuelling station at one side of the pad, with a set of storage containers at the other that no doubt contained weapons and other riot suppression equipment. For a District notorious for underperforming in the arena, the Capitol were always on high alert for riots.
I guess their need for fashion and fabric was more important to them than the things the other Districts provided… Like food and energy… It really demonstrated how backwards the Capitol really were.
But Fatima wasn't quite meeting my dim expectations; she was a lot different to how I would have expected her to be, how I imagined Escorts in general. I'd have expected her to be more airheaded, gossipier and waffling on about fashion and popularity. Perhaps some ignorant waffling about how lucky we were to be a part of these games, and how privileged we would be to get to enjoy the Capitol's favour for a few days. Instead she actually seemed caring and considerate; at least towards the two of us anyway. It made me feel like our lives mattered to her, and our comfort mattered to her. Of course, it probably did, considering our lives were now worth quite a lot of money...
But still, she was going through quite a lot of effort to do things that she didn't need, nor want, to do. Providing a 'light lunch' that was more food than I had ever seen in one place before, was one example of that. Bowls of fruit, bread that looked fresh-baked, little cakes and pastries that seemed to glow with temptation, sandwiches filled with things that I couldn't imagine tasting nice, yet I was still desperate to try them all. Shellfish and mayonnaise, chicken with some sort of vibrant green mush, fish and cream cheese... We were lucky if we even got to eat meat that didn't come out of a tin. Being led towards such a buffet was the most bizarre experience, it bordered on hallucinogenic.
She found our little hovercraft picnic spot just aside from the train station, a nicer part of the District where we got a view of the river and the fields of cotton that grew out as far as the eye could see. Fatima obviously wasn't quite as impressed as I was, in fact, she seemed a little disappointed that this was the best the District had to offer. But for me, to be this far out from the workshops and factories was a breath of relief. It could almost make me forget about my impending death.
But only almost...
The little table was set up on a slightly higher platform from the rest of the hover pad, most likely a command post of sort, or communications station perhaps. Either way, it looked ridiculous with the brightly coloured table and equally bright spread of food displayed on it, with a large material gazebo covering it from the harsh midday sun. It was comically out of place.
Just like I felt.
I watched as she bristled about, almost insect like, as her elaborately structured peplum seemed to get in the way of every one of her actions. She seemed a little confused upon encountering her chair tucked underneath the table, but quickly adapted and managed to pull the seat out just enough to wrestle herself and her skirt into a seated position. I followed suit, trying to mimic her actions the best I could in order to capture a half-decent first impression. Everyone knew by now that you needed sponsor support to make it anywhere in the arena, and she may well be able to push an extra sponsor in my direction. If she liked me enough.
But that little fact always confused me. District 8 were the textile providers for the Capitol. Surely that counted for something? We created the materials they used for everything, upholstery, decor, and of course, clothing. Why we didn't get more support each year was absurd.
Yes, with some of the Districts it made sense. The Capitol didn't care much about grain, or agriculture, or power… Those were just things that they had, they likely didn't even register that they only had those things because of the corresponding Districts. But Textiles? That should have been more on their radar. We even had several lines of warehouses, or sweatshops as they should have been called, making the essentials. We shipped them most of the fabrics that they used to stock their own haberdasheries, even making some of the clothes they wore ourselves.
Of course, they didn't trust us with anything that had much flair. We did the very basics. Underwear and plain tops, trousers and skirts, that were shipped off to the other Districts at a heavily inflated price. The uniforms for Avox and Peacekeepers, but these were reserved for more experienced sewers. And then there was a few select items that the Capitol didn't care as much about. Uniforms; aprons and such. Items that were not really clothes and were probably restricted to Capitolites that were at the dregs of the Capitol's utopian society. Those who had to serve as cleaners and workers for those superior.
Yet they were still a good few paces above us.
"Well don't just sit there, dig in!" Fatima almost instructed with a small smile, gesturing towards the platters in front of us in an expectant way. "You need to eat as much as you can, to get your strength up for the arena."
This was her first mention of the games, of what we were actually here for, what all of the special treatment was about… She had done it carefully; just laced it into the conversation enough to remind us both of it. She was testing us. Trying to see if we were going to suddenly well up and sob, trying to see if we would be worth the investment she was going to have to put into us in order to get us up to scratch.
"The tributes who are the best fed tend to be the first ones to start suffering from hunger in the arena…" My District partner, Stark, returned blankly, a cunning intellect in his voice as he reached out for a small piece of fruit, taking it up to his mouth and taking a confident bite, though a small bite nonetheless.
I caught the expression on Fatima's face as the words left his mouth, her eyes lighting up with the promise of money almost instantly. I wasn't sure whether she had intentionally tried to lay this comment to see if either of us would pick up on it, or whether Stark had just corrected her too. Either way she was now impressed and the scale of interest was leaning towards Stark more than myself; I had little doubt that Fatima would put her attention on whichever one of us looked more likely to bring her the most money.
I was happy to focus my attempts on winning over our mentor.
It would either be Cecelia, who was in her fifties now and probably wouldn't have as much advice to provide. Or it would be Sheer, who was in his early thirties and could probably offer a little more tactical incite.
Cecelia's games had been played a few times; every few years or so they showed us the games that our District had won. Maybe some form of sick encouragement to try and get people more enthusiastic about the Hunger Games. From what my Mother had told me, in the years since the former President had stepped down, his successor had been slightly more lenient with the Districts, there were fewer executions at least… Those who committed crimes that were severe enough to warrant more than a hard flogging, got taken on a train to the Capitol and weren't heard from again.
Mother said that the threat of that unknown fate made those rebellious people more disconcerted than when the punishment was death. Disappearing to the Capitol no doubt meant worse than a bullet in the skill. It meant torture and enslavement. During a lecture my mother had to give about Avoxes at school, a lecture clearly designed by the Capitol to scare children into submission, the gruelling process of turning people into Avoxes was horrific enough to make even the feistiest child stop and think. These criminals became the Capitol's slaves, or perhaps their pets would be a better term for it.
Death was a kinder fate.
My brief moment of Avox induced worry took my attention away from my real goal, trying to work out how to win over Cecelia or Sheer… Cecelia was one of those Victors who had crept through over the years, one who, although you couldn't class her as being innocent, she wasn't a vicious and brutal killer by the end of the games like most ended up. She killed, you had to, but she had a low kill count.
She was seventeen, she kept to herself in the arena, tried to avoid conflict. She sailed through with an average training score. She wasn't a beautiful woman. Nor did she look strong or intimidating… She was impossibly average. She didn't get much screen time in the games, the commentators barely mentioned her… She was all but forgotten.
Then suddenly, when the arena was down to five or so people left, the alliances splitting up and turning on each other, muttations released and causing chaos… Everyone suddenly remembered Cecelia. She had a sword and had obviously concealed her skill with it during the Gamemaker's sessions, not to mention how intelligent she must have been to go unnoticed even by the Capitol.
Cecelia was clever, she and I shared that. But her tactics relied on her going unnoticed, which were no longer valid. Since then the Gamemakers paid close attention to those wandering away from the action, usually constructing ways to push them back towards the action. Though I was sure she would have advice to offer about winning the Capitol's affections, which she did most expertly with the birth of her brood of children, she wasn't going to be able the combat and survival advice that I wanted.
Sheer on the other hand was more of a fiery combatant, quite literally. Apparently, he worked in one of the textile treatment factories in the poorest part of the District, where the workers spent all day in contact with dangerous chemicals and breathing in fumes. He was an unsuspecting boy, lanky and unkempt. His stylist clearly put in a lot of effort in getting him to look more presentable.
He seemed average throughout the process again, never scoring high on the polls, until they got into the arena. It was an industrial style, which put our District at a slight advantage to some of the more rural Districts. His knowledge from working in the treatment factory paid off when his experience handling chemicals allowed him to make rudimentary gas grenades and a few incendiary explosives.
It was all very haphazard, but obviously his training in the Capitol, along with his training in the treatment factory, provided him with enough of an understanding to be able to create some devastating effects. As such, the Capitol did a large-scale investigation of the District after his victory. You can understand why a fifteen-year-old with the ability to make basic explosives made the Capitol nervous…
But I wouldn't have time to learn how to make explosives…
I would have to take advantage of the skills I already had.
I had a talent for being on everybody's good side, for making sure that when the tables turned, i was turning with them. I also knew a thing or two about knives.
I wasn't formally trained, that would be illegal.
But my Mother had the unique opportunity, being a teacher, to give me and my Brother an extra thorough lesson on human anatomy. My Mother wanted us to have a chance in case we were reaped. She told us that although a stab to the heart or the brain would be an outright kill, there was a good chance that you'd hit a bone instead and lose your window.
She said that in the arena, you didn't need to kill someone; you needed to disable them enough that they couldn't hit you back. Most people smart enough to repair injuries that hit a key organ weren't going to be in the area that late.
The abdomen was the key area, stabbing upwards to hit the liver, following up with two or three more stabs for assurance. Or come from the sizes and aim for the kidneys, stab, twist and yank. The victim would be left with a gaping wound and severe internal bleeding. The other options were aiming for the arteries; an uneducated tribute would be trying to cover their head and chest, key areas. With a quick enough dash, you could nick the thigh or the groin and be running off before they realised they were going to bleed out.
Of course, I wasn't naive enough to think that the knowledge my Mother had taught me was going to win me the games. But I had hoped it would at least allow me to go into the training centre one step ahead of my competition, and not as far behind the Tributes who were properly trained for the arena as they would think.
It was common knowledge that they received training in District One, Two and Four. But after watching them in the arena year after year, it seemed to be training that leant more towards the handling of weapons rather than general survival skills. I had a fair understanding of the latter from Mother, knowing basic biology, enough to know a few tricks about identifying edible plants and how to treat water so it was drinkable.
I also knew a little of the former… Enough to get a good glance on one of them if they were to get sloppy…
I glanced up at Stark again, watching his behaviour, trying to work him out. He seemed both apprehensive and frightened, and yet slightly confident as well. Something underlying that combined together made him seem like a genuine threat. He wasn't overconfident like those tributes from the trained Districts, yet he was confident enough to second-guess our Escort, who, although wasn't exactly a font of knowledge and tactics, was there to advise us…
I didn't know whether I wanted an ally in the arena. I didn't know whether it would be a help or a hinderance to be having someone that was watching my back at all times; it wouldn't be hard for them to stab it.
It was hard to resist glowering in that moment, forcing me to snatch a sandwich and take a large bite to avoid looking suspicious. I detested not being in the know about things.
And I wasn't in the know about Stark. I couldn't bloody work him out and that was something that I was always able to do.
There was nothing obvious about him, no tell-tale signs of a threat; he was tall, not muscular but fit enough for someone from our District. His skin was as pale as a wisp of cotton and his hair was as dark as oil, waving with a slight curl just below his ear. He was handsome, I might have spent a night with him if we weren't in this circumstance…
I ground up the sandwich with my teeth aggressively, barely bothering to taste it before I swallowed.
"Now then…" Fatima began, finishing with her mental fawning over the money that she now thought Stark was going to bring in for her and carrying on with important conversation. "I imagine you're both wondering what this little lunch is for…" She began, putting down her fork and gently dabbing her mouth with a soft napkin. "As I am sure you're aware, these are not usual proceedings."
"This year there have been a few, small changes made to the Games…" She began with a demure look on her face. "The new Head Gamemaker has decided to postpone the involvement of the previous Victors in the training process…"
My heart sank and I almost cursed aloud, using all of my experience with putting on a face to refrain from slamming my fist down on the table in frustration. I was relying on a mentor, someone to give me a few pointers and advise me on what was the best course of action to take. I wanted someone who could tell me what weapon would suit me best, what type of attitude would make me earn the adoration of the Capitol crowd…
And of course, how to last two hours without getting my throat slit…
"Now, and don't tell a soul…" She warned as she took a quick glance around, as if to make sure a whole news crew hadn't descended upon our table without her noticing. "But this puts you at a distinct advantage!" She sounded giddy with excitement, but I couldn't place a finger on what she meant.
"How does it help us? We don't get any help in the arena now." I returned, trying to put on a concerned and demure tone instead of the scathing lash of my tongue I wanted to give her.
"Well I wouldn't quite go that far Miss." She tartly replied. "All of the Escorts are now going to be in charge of your public relations and we have received a great deal of training on each of the training areas so we will be able to assist you." She began to open her mouth to continue to explain how having her be our mentor would be beneficial, when Stark talked just ahead of her, in his soft yet steely voice. "You needn't worry, I was one of the quickest learners during our Escort training!"
"It puts all the Districts on level footing…"
I could have kicked myself for not working that out first, mentally scolding myself as I watched Fatima's eyes light up with amazement. I was either being awfully slow today, or Stark possessed a wicked intellect. And since I was never slow, it meant that Stark was a threat that was already making me bleed.
But he was correct.
Though it was a blow to lose the council of Cecelia and Sheer, it would be a far bigger blow for whatever tributes launched forwards to volunteer from District One, District Two, District Four, District Seven… Even Districts Ten and Eleven, who still had enough victors that losing them was a blow. Yet to us, it was an advantage.
"Oh I can barely relay to you the joy I received watching the smug faces dropping off of Auriel and Cordelia… Oh it was glorious!" I almost smiled at the way she had to stop and calm herself before she could return to the subject matter. Not an amused smile mind you… A self-pitying smile.
"Oh and I know he's a few years my minor… But seeing Keelan so hopeful set me alight… I never really noticed, but he is a truly gorgeous little specimen…" She continued rambling as I tried to resist any explosion of emotion that suddenly threatened to bubble up.
I wasn't some feeble little thing. I knew that I was one up from most of those people in the arena. But suddenly, for the first time in my life I was the one being ignored. Fatima had set her eyes on Stark quite clearly at this point. He had showed me up twice and I was playing catch up already. Without any mentors, with Fatima as our only source of aid, this little show of favouritism was a crippling blow more than ever.
I ran my hand down to my wrist, running my fingers along the cheap plastic cord around my wrist, a simple braided bracelet that my Brother had handed me less than an hour ago, as we had a little reminisce about childhood and all of those times I'd done something brilliant and made all of school laugh, made all of my friends want to horde around me, made plenty of boys and girls dare for my affections.
My fist balled with determination.
I didn't need Fatima's approval.
I just had to make the rest of the Capitol see what a worthwhile investment I was.
And I'd been doing that very same thing all of my life, with everyone I had ever met.
I stared across the table through my eyelashes, watching Stark tentatively try and eat a beef and horseradish sandwich with a knife and fork.
He was my main competition.
And he had no idea what I was capable of.
Stark Conwell
17 Years Old, Male, District Eight
I had always prepared for it. It had been a life ambition almost.
How to make District Eight a real contender in the Hunger Games.
I had just never imagined that I would be the one who needed to put all that information into practice; my odds were as low as they got.
But I also had a very real opportunity to show what District Eight had to offer.
I had my arms back behind my head, knuckles flushed against the cool glass window of the speeding train, which luckily for me, was barely noticeable. I hadn't eaten much at Fatima's little picnic, but needless to say the food was a lot richer than I was used to and It wasn't sitting too comfortably; the short car journey had riled it up. I guessed, due to her similar silence, Eloise felt the same, but that didn't bother me.
It gave me more time to think about my situation.
I truly hated having to sit by, year after year, and watch our citizens get slaughtered. I hated the Victory tours, where whoever won would stand in our District and offer some shitty eulogy to our fallen, a boy and a girl whom the Victor had probably never even given a second glance. I hated how the commentators would make some joke every year about District Eight having a chance. I hated how our tributes got neglected because they weren't the most handsome, or the strongest, or the most endearing…
Well I was determined to prove that this year would be different.
Eloise and I weren't unattractive, which should get us enough attention to start off with. But I was convinced that Fatima was going to be raving about how brilliant I was the second she was back in the Capitol. I wasn't being big-headed either, she just seemed giddy with my knowledge. Even the comment of not having mentors this year, a remark that I noticed had an effect on Eloise, wasn't going to bother me at all. I knew enough to be my own mentor. And with the way Fatima had taken to me, she might even be able to fill in the areas I was still unsure about.
My Sister, Lace, always questioned my interest in the games. Whenever I'd mention how frustrated I was with never having a chance, she would always say the same thing, 'At least we're not District Nine'.
It was true that they were worse off than us, they were the butt of every joke made. They had had three Victors in ninety-nine years. The only two alive were in their seventies and probably no use to anyone any longer. But sometimes they got quite close. Some of them were eighteen year old field workers who were strong, fast, hardy… They had chances that they just didn't exploit. They got unlucky match ups in duels, or they got ambushed and outnumbered, or they just tripped over a twisted root that someone else didn't...
We never got that far.
Some years I would scream at the television set, much to my Mother's disapproval, about how stupid our tribute was being. It was truly dumb stuff that any idiot should know was a bad decision. Lighting fires at night, trying to escape tributes from District Four by swimming, eating the first piece of fruit they came across without thinking if it was edible, wandering into clear traps… It infuriated me.
Which spurred my own little research project.
Every recording of every year's Hunger Games was available at the library, and I had watched each one more than once. I would go over every detail, work out the traits of those who were likely to be the biggest threats, discern any pattern in the Gamemakers traps and plans, analyse the tactics that worked consistently and the ones that failed…
In my studies I had watched over two thousand different tributes die. I had seen heads smashed in, throats slit, hearts speared, guts torn out, limbs cut off, bones smashed, eyes gouged… I had watched tributes get raped, be tricked, break down from fear, scream in terror, get tortured for sport, eat corpses, get burned to death, starve, go hysterical from dehydration, succumb to illness and die in their own faeces…
But occasionally there were moments of real kindness. Tributes who had nothing in common forming stalwart friendships, falling in stupid love. Of course, at least one of them was always butchered before the games ended, but those little gleaming moments of hope were probably the only things that stopped my soul from rotting away in the hours I spent staring at the screen.
My plan had been to spread the information around, let everyone know what I had discovered. I hadn't got that far yet… But in some ways, that now put me at an advantage. My knowledge would be valuable without any Mentors, and I could pick and choose who to give it to. I had the opportunity to evaluate my allies based on what they offered me, rather than anything else. I didn't even have a reason to help my District partner.
But one allice I would downright refuse to make, was with the tributes that were generally known amongst the Districts as the Careers. District One, Two and Four. They often drafted valuable allies from other Districts who might have been threats. Over the years almost every District had been a part of this alliance at some point, and each of those years, the outsider, the lone outlier, was the one who got killed first when the pack started to pull apart.
I glanced over at Eloise, watching her sat with her knees to her chest, feet up on the velvet sofa, her dark hair curving behind her as she stared out of the window of the train quietly. Her green-blue eyes were focussed on the setting sun outside and on nothing else. She was either feeling a little queasy like me, or maybe just upset. I imagined it would be easy to be upset in her situation, from receiving less attention from Fatima than I had during our little lunch session, though for good reason. I was impressing Fatima with every opportunity, whilst she seemed to antagonise her more often than not.
But regardless of her feelings towards me, Eloise probably wouldn't be an ally of mine. I sensed she was jealous of me and being jealous of me meant she would like to see me fall. Fatima already seemed taken with me and I was going to use that to my advantage, just as she would if the roles were reversed. If I allied with her, then she would be absorbing any support that Fatima sent me, all for some cliche District partner alliance. I would be throwing away an opportunity to be getting some gold-standard sponsors. Gifts were like gold dust and Fatima would be pushing all of them in my direction if I continued to impress her. And now that it was something that the Escorts had control of rather than the Mentors, I expected she would be very liberal with the schmoozing.
Not to mention that sponsors would stop spending all of their money on the District to get a chance to suck up to their favourite Victor.
The ideal choice would be someone from another District in a similar situation, who was also getting popular with their Escort and would be getting lots of gifts directed towards them. That way we would be getting four tributes worth of gifts. If we were big enough characters to earn it of course.
At the beginning the games were just about killing. A tool to drive the Districts apart after their rebellion. Now it was a sensation, a drama like some Capital soap opera, full of emotion and scandal, intrigue and mystery, rage and heartbreak… Where once upon a time the strongest tributes were the only ones who got sponsors… Now the ones who were entertaining to watch got showered with gifts too, trying to keep them in the games for longer.
Everyone had a favourite who they rooted for, bet a lot of money on. Some chose the strongest, some the smartest, some the prettiest. Some followed the odds and others struck against them. The pattern of Victors was so erratic that even I couldn't work it out.
I was good at maths and statistics; but the sheer volume of variables in the arena were impossible to use to find any sort of pattern. It was dependant on everything.
The arena setting: deserts were ruthless, snow was deadly, forests were nerve-wracking, pastures were exposing, cities were deadly mazes, mountains were treacherous and jungles were rife with danger… Just to name a few… And of course, most arenas were a combination of multiple different environments to better keep us tributes on our toes.
The Gamemakers then had their traps and muttations that always took a few tributes each year. I'd seen everything from fanged frogs the size of cats to humanoid creatures which had some sort of wicked intelligence behind them. The games also hinged on what was in that valuable cornucopia each year, from a vast array of weapons so that nobody was spoilt for choice, to nothing but their bloodied fists, rocks and branches.
And the mood of the Capitol was just as pivotal. The Gamemakers could decide on a whim to unleash a sudden permafrost, a thunder strike, a firestorm, a horde of mutts, a flood… Killing whatever tributes they wanted at a given moment. And the audience had the power to send a bottle of water to someone dying of thirst, or spend the money giving a bouquet of flowers to the prettiest girl, or even body oil one year to a particularly muscular boy from District Two.
But ultimately, it always hinged on the type of tributes. When the Reaping pool was weak, with lots of young tributes, frail ones, people who didn't stand a chance, the volunteers took it easily. But when the tribute pool was of older, stronger tributes, the arena was fair game. Then the smarter tributes still had their own ways, the unsuspecting ones, the charismatic ones who formed alliances on the receiving end of a knife…
Each individual tribute was a completely different force acting on the pull of the game. Whether weak, strong, smart, cunning, scheming, charismatic, allied or alone… Every single person who went into that arena was crucial to how the games panned out.
And this year looked like it would be brutal.
A fourteen-year-old from District Nine was the youngest, and possibly the weakest too, judging by the way she had to be carried to the stage by Peacekeepers, and then collapsed when she got there. Though my analysis of her hadn't be as thorough as I would have liked; Fatima had spent the whole-time fawning over their Escort and talking about how the acting Mayor of District Nine would go far if he continued the way he was going.
The next was a fifteen-year-old from three, who was only slightly less terrified. Then there were at least six sixteen-year olds, which meant that over half of the tributes would be seventeen or eighteen. I hadn't yet watched all of the Reapings; Five, Four, Two and One were in the evening, but other than Five, I wouldn't expect any of them to be under seventeen.
And according to Fatima, before she slipped off to schmooze, we were en-route to District Two to pick up their tributes before heading to the Capitol, in a new attempt to have all twenty-four tributes arrive at the same time, as well as giving us a chance to socialise before training began. A chance to size each other up.
I was nervous about sharing a carriage with District Two's tributes; they tended to be some of the strongest competitors, and they hadn't won a game in seven years so I imagined they expected that a Victory was due. We were also sharing a train with the pair from District Twelve, but we had only met their Escort so far. The tributes hadn't left their room. But on seeing their Reaping, even they might be threats to consider.
I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I was going to be a part of one of the best Games yet… Which, although best for the Capital, would not be best for me…
"Darlings?" Fatima called out as she approached from the next carriage along, having left the door open purely for that purpose. "Darlings…" She repeated as she entered the room, a small smile on her face as she did a quick scan to check that we were in fact both still on board the train. "We'll be arriving in District Two shortly…" She began, walking into the room and plucking a melon ball out of a glass bowl from the table. "You can meet the tributes but you really do need to be getting ready for bed after that. We'll be in the Capitol by midday tomorrow and we can't have either of you being tired…" She seemed truly concerned, maybe because if we were tired it might show up in the countless videos and photos that we would be forced to endure. Probably wouldn't look good for sponsors.
"Have you thought about what we should wear tomorrow?" Eloise asked softly, tearing herself away from the window and turning back towards the rest of the room. "Something bright so that we catch a lot of attention?"
"No I shouldn't have thought so." Fatima returned briskly. "We don't want to look like we're trying too hard; it'll look like we're trying to steal attention through overcompensation. No, no that won't do."
"Then maybe our District clothes? Make us look like we've come from our roots then?" She tried again, making me roll my eyes to myself. I had loads of theories about what fashion might be the best to wear tomorrow when the Capital first met us, but I knew better than to try and get involved at the Escort's plans about fashion. The Capital, their fashion sense and their trends were the biggest enigma of all.
"Oh darling I do love that you are trying to get involved but you leave all of that to me, I've already called your stylist and we've had a long chat and picked out a few outfits for you. You'll be perfect, don't threat." She paused, taking up the TV remote to show us something. "Now we still have a little while before we get to District Two, so I have thought of something excellent to show you! Oh I was there and it sent shivers down my spine…"
As Fatima started faffing about with the television, I realised Eloise's game. She was trying to impress the Escort in her own way. And although it clearly hadn't worked out how she had planned, her effort had probably impressed Fatima more than her stalwart silence would have. Fatima appreciated that she'd tried, perhaps more than she appreciated the fact that I hadn't.
It would take her a while, but she was starting to catch up.
Looks like I had competition after all.
Lucretia Cachexia
Head Gamemaker
Two days earlier
My lips were pursed tight as I waited for the insect-like camera crew to assume their positions and cease their hovering about like dragonflies on a pond. The Escorts behind me were irritably excited, barely containing their giggles, like they were juveniles rather than experienced and well-trained professionals. Of course, it wouldn't be fair to blame them. To them, this was an incredible experience. Exciting, overwhelming… The event that everyone in the Capitol had been waiting for a whole year. The first live address of the new Head Gamemaker. In reality it was a short, minute introduction to my plans for the year, supplementing the various statements I had given to the media over the past few weeks. As such, it was little more than an annoying stopgap measure in my plans for the day.
Auriel, Cordelia, Piraeus, Thala, Antonia, Patroclus, Aldertree, Fatima, Keelan, Theo, Vivienne and Odette…
Each one of the twelve of them was selected personally by myself and each had all the necessary traits I required to have them work as Escorts this year. Despite my personal opinions of some of them, suck ups or those who supported my competitors in fashion, it hardly mattered. The Games were above all of that now, a priority transcending all others. It was more than important to have the perfect selection. And the twelve I had chosen, were just that.
Firstly, they were all popular with the general populace Capitol, all models, actors, singers, hosts, bloggers… All big on the social scene, well known and liked. Good enough to get people chit-chatting and sponsoring without the teeth-pulling that could sometime emerge. I didn't want all the sponsors in the same places like it often happened. I wanted them spread out amongst all notable candidates. These Escorts were bound to get the money rolling with any tribute who stood half a chance.
Secondly, they were all actually intelligent enough to be trusted with the responsibility of serving as a Mentor to the tributes. I wasn't cruel enough to let the tributes in the arena go in after being trained by airheads. All of them were as competent as any of the previous Victors in guiding their tributes, but their guidance wouldn't be hampered by their own experiences of the arena, and their knowledge was well rounded unlike the hordes of District Two mentors without a modicum of intellect between them…
Thirdly, they all understood what I was trying to do with the Games. Their original application process was lengthy and they had all needed to submit an idea of what they thought was lacking in the latest Hunger Games. They all mentioned to some extent, the inevitable predictability of it all. How you could usually guess the most likely winners from day one. Not always, in fact Raige of the ninety-seventh wasn't obvious at first, and Ranchton of last year hardly counted as a Victor… But before that there was enough predictability that it needed to be addressed.
But finally, and most importantly… I had dirt on them all. Plenty of information to blackmail if need be, but each of them had enough skeletons in their closets to destroy their reputation with a whisper. It was crucial that if anyone moved against me, their reputation was gone before they could utter a syllable.
Thala for example had that dreadful illness that she was paying the Doctors a generous sum to keep under control, and even more to keep quiet… And then Keelan was so blindly infatuated with the temporary Mayor in District Nine that he'd be easy to manipulate with a few veiled promises. Then there was sweet little Odette who poisoned half of her family to rig the inheritance to pursue her stardom… I always appreciated someone who could manage to brew a good poison…
"Lucretia, are you ready my dearest angel?" The director of the little exposé asked me, to which I gave an uninterested nod and squared up to the camera, ready to talk to my adoring fans. Of course, this wouldn't reach the Districts, unless the Escorts decided to show them… But the information would most likely be regurgitated in two days when the Reapings were all underway…
A small smile formed on my face…
"Good Evening Panem." I began politely, the fourteen cameras around all moving at dizzying speeds to capture my every angle, every seam on my dress and every pin in my hair. " I am well aware of the excitement buzzing through the Capitol in anticipation of my own mark on this year's Games… But I shan't be one of those who spoil all of the surprises now because of my own need for gratification… Besides, I understand Axel, Raige, Goldanna and Anvil are waiting for you all down on the Ossa Flickerman show and I wouldn't want to keep you all away from those beauties for too long…" I put in a sultry little expression at the end at the mention of a few of the most popular Victors from the last ten or so years. "Or of course, if you're in the mood for something a little more traditional, Finnick Odair, Katniss Everdeen and Enorbaria Golding will be joining Ilythia and Romulus this evening as part of this year's commentary panel."
I gave the viewers a moment to contain their excitement. Finnick was well adored and lusted after even now he was in his forties, a rare attraction to a Victor that remained sexual for so long. He was always a good addition to a panel, and not just as eye candy; his commentary was also in depth and a well formed inside perspective. Katniss was still well remembered as the girl on fire from her stylist's efforts and after last year's fiasco, I saw an opportunity to get her in as a model. She was now in the public eye even more than usual and outliers weren't always on the yearly panel; it would be a refreshing change to Glint McCallen who'd served the last few years, at least. And Enobaria was filling her seat because the Capitol always needed a good solid fighter on the panel, and Enobaria had always been a reliable model for me… I just adored her teeth.
"Now, I'm sure the news that our favourites will still be with us in one form has been a great comfort to you, since my announcement that our Mentoring programme would not be operating as usual this year…" I returned to a more serious tone, I didn't want to spend too much time on the fluff, I had work to return to. "So I think it is time for me to tell you a little bit more about what my plans for the Games this year will be…"
"I want to challenge our tributes more than ever. I want this year to be about more than who the best fighter, or the fastest runner is…" I paused for effect. I knew how to work a hungry crowd. "This year I have designed these games to give us a Victor who is truly worthy of the title. Someone who has the real knowledge to survive in an arena quite different from anything we've seen before… And my team and I have been working tirelessly for months to ensure that the threats in this arena will go beyond what we usually see. There are even a few key moments that I've planned to be quite different from what anybody will be expecting. I want to challenge expectations and push the boundaries..."
I took a small breath, lightly jerking my head to let a slight ripple bubble through my hair, removing a wayward strand from my face as I did so.
"These tributes will encounter things that test more than their ability to either fight or run, but things that will test their problem-solving skills, their morality, their willpower, their intellect, their cunning and so so much more. The Victor that we will see emerging from this year's games will be an individual with unique and exceptional ability. Someone who can really add to the perfection of our glorious nation." Although they weren't here with me, I could feel the audience eating each word like a drug coursing through their systems, even the Escorts were acting like unknowing fans as I revealed fact after fact. "And this is just the beginning… You all know that I can make the absolute best of a bad situation… And you know even more that I take a good situation and turn it into gold…"
I took a final pause, ready for the big comment that would leave them salivating for the rest of the week.
"So, if this arena keeps you on the edge of your seats, which I have no doubt it will…" I smiled seductively. "Then just imagine what sort of masterpiece I will make out of the one-hundred-year Anniversary Quarter Quell." A gave a brief moment for their excitement to plateau, before I signed off. "Thank you for watching, and I will see you all soon at our opening parade. Goodnight."
I turned the second the cameras were off, ignoring the songs of praise from the Escorts as I strolled through them, the long translucent tails of my dress parting them like a river of smoke. I could still hear them gossiping with each other like excited little children as I left the studio room, my chief aide immediately scurrying over to me as soon as I was within eyeshot of her, handing me a datapad without a word.
My eyes quickly scanned through the information presented, my expression cool, clear and emotionless as I sifted through the data with analytical eyes. Naturally, I oversaw all aspects of the arena. Muttation design being a key one, and this little project which I had entrusted to my advisor was perhaps the most interesting of all.
It would prove to be one of the most exciting moments of this year's games I was sure, but it would also serve as a small-scale test for something that I would replicate by ten times in the Quarter Quell. If the results were as intended, of course…
"Increase the dosage by fifteen percent, I want them all broken by tomorrow evening; the art team need to begin and I don't want them to be recognisable as people. The surgical team have done a good job starting that off, but I need their behavior crazed enough to look like something we cooked up in a lab."
"Of course, Madame."
"If any shred of their individuality remains it could ruin what stands to be an incredible climactic opportunity. I'll authorise an additional thirty five percent if need be, but don't exceed it. We want vicious adversaries not drooling corpses."
"Of course, Madame."
"You'll also find a little treat left for you in your apartment." I stopped and turned to her with a small smile. "One drop in a glass of wine and that tasty little thing you've been pining for will be yours for a night. But after that, please do get over it, you've got more important things to do than waste your time with someone who doesn't see your worth…"
"Thank you, Madame…" Her sweet voice was almost trembling this time, obviously excited by my little act of generosity.
If her project resulted in the success I was expecting, she could expect a few more acts of generosity coming her way too.
After all, there was nothing more valuable than exceptional ability. No matter where it came from…
Stark Conwell
17 Years Old, Male, District Eight
Seeder Howell, twenty-ninth Hunger Games, won because she could go without food for the longest. That was the scenario I was playing to myself over and over, reliving those Games in my mind as I watched the thin, almost skeletal, woman use another tribute's own knife to slit their throat after they collapsed from hunger. I was trying to fend off the temptations of the table full of the most exquisite looking cakes that Fatima and her colleague Odette, the Escort to the District Twelve tributes who still hadn't left their room, were enjoying as the train slowed down during the approach to the District Two station.
As tempting as they were, I knew they would haunt me in the arena ten-fold. Plus, my stomach had only just settled down from lunch, and from the looks of the colours on the food that Fatima was delicately enjoying, these glorious looking treats would be even richer…
"These are absolutely sublime! I want to have a tray of these ready for when I start hunting for sponsors; my darlings will have gifts coming out of their ears…" Odette, the dark-skinned mentor with a tangerine tinted headscarf wrapped around her bald head politely chuckled as she 'treated' herself to what must have been her fourteenth cake.
"Oh I have the perfect dress ready for the first evening after the interviews. I am expecting truly remarkable things to happen this year. Oh I can hardly contain myself!" Fatima squealed, releasing a burst of excitement that was hardly sudden. She had been uncomfortably excited since she had showed us the footage of Lucretia Cachexia, the new Head Gamemaker, giving a rather chilling speech about the games. The woman seemed almost delusional, as if she thought that it didn't take amy skill or talent to survive in the Games at the moment, and as such she was going to make them even more challenging than before.
It was a double-edged sword to me.
On the one hand, an arena that needed you to be smart, to solve problems and to be cunning, was something that some of us outliers had over some of the Career tributes. From watching the years there was usually one 'Alpha' who led the group. Usually the most ferocious on of them, the strongest, the person with the best odds… But not usually the smartest. Whereas any lone wanderer who lasted late enough in the Games to be considered a contender was bound to be intelligent and cunning to have survived for so long on their own. In every Games I had watched, that was the case.
I had an edge there.
But the way she talked about encountering threats beyond what we usually saw, on the other hand, was deeply worrying information. We had seen honest horrors over the years, things that had my senses not been somewhat dulled after watching them over and over again, would have given me nightmares. I couldn't imagine how they could be 'beyond' what they Gamemakers usually invent; their usual inventions were reaching an apex of terror without any room for 'improvements'.
The thought sent a shiver down my spine.
I know Fatima showed us the clip of her speech to try and give us a boost in confidence, but I was far more confident before I saw the chilling gleam in her eye.
And my sudden worry only increased as I felt the train pull to a stomach grinding halt. District Two.
There wasn't much visible of it in the dark, but honestly any sightseeing could wait. If I won, I could do it then. The only sight that I was concerned about seeing was the pair from District Two who would be walking onto the train in a moment.
Fatima had adamantly refused to let us watch the District Two Reaping, making us wait to meet them in person. Her enthusiasm was notable, but it was putting us at a slight disadvantage. Of course, District Two hadn't had a chance to watch any of the Reapings yet, the Districts had to watch them all back the following day, so we would still be one step ahead in that regard.
She had, however, allowed us to watch District One, Four and Five. Which at least allowed me to formulate something of a picture of the threatening line up.
A volunteer from District Five was uncommon. They were a wealthy District, even more so than District Four if the annual District tesserae statistics were to be believed, but they weren't a District who were consumed with the thoughts of glory and victory that the Hunger Games had provided. If they had training centres there, none of them were very good or nobody had yet come of age.
She didn't look like a confident and well thought out volunteer, she looked panicked and rushed, a brash decision that she would probably regret once she was in the training centre and realised what she was up against. The boy on the other hand looked worryingly bored. Bored in a way that made my skin crawl.
District One was as expected. Well almost. Two volunteers, but due to a rather absurd act of subterfuge, the actual female Volunteer was beaten to the stage by someone else who snuck up whilst the former swaggered about with her bravado. Not that I was disappointed. The original Volunteer was an enormous creature that had limbs like tree-trunks, her replacement was a typical pretty girl that did tend to come out of District one, though the last one to win was Goldanna in the ninety-third, who was as deadly as she was gorgeous.
The boy from the District was distinctively courteous, elegant and graceful. Had he been a female I might have found him sexy too, but alas, his see-through shirt was telling us quite clearly that he was male, but I imagined that he already had sponsors in the Capitol lining up for him. Attractive ones always got lots of gifts. The Capitol's sexual appetites seemed to go beyond gender.
And then District Four was as expected. A strong looking girl, muscular, but not hugely more so than Eloise was. She was confident, but they always were when they volunteered from Four. The boy on the other hand was wearing a cloth covering one of his eyes, which was already such a huge disadvantage that I imagined he would have needed to be incredibly deadly to have been allowed to volunteer.
The subtle sound of the doors opening was enough to make my heart race, knowing that the last two pieces of this year's puzzle were about to walk into the room. Fatima and Odette stood up to greet them with giddy excitement. I moved to stand up but I got stopped in my tracks.
"You're gonna stand for them? Really?" Eloise commented with a slight hint of amusement in her voice, looking at me with a lopsided little smirk on her face. I thought about it. I didn't plan to disappear into the crowd, especially considering I would have to get some weapons training in the training centre and hopefully would end up good enough to be considered a threat by the end of it. I guessed that staying seated might antagonise them a little. Maybe I was overthinking things…
I sat back down, flumping with my back down on the sofa just as I saw the District's Escort enter the room, which immediately made the three of them explode in an uproar of kisses and greetings. I saw the boy stride into the carriage, but just for a second. My vision was immediately blocked by Eloise standing and making a big show of it.
I grunted.
The bitch had just manipulated me into showing up possibly the biggest threat in the arena.
All by not standing up.
He was leaner than most of the District Two boys, his arms muscular and showed off in his sleeveless vest that was hardly meeting the formality requirements we were expected to uphold in District Eight. His muscularity was there, but it wasn't bulky like it would have been for someone who had been swinging a mace or hammer for the past few years. My immediate thought was throwing knives, but there was something about him that didn't lend itself to the use of throwing knives. They were usually used by flashy tributes with a little flare. This boy looked like he'd need a weapon a bit more confident and obvious. He had a swagger and an arrogance about him, a weapon like a javelin would have suited him well.
Until I watched his fingers reach out for a glass of cold juice that his Escort was directing him to. They were calloused at the fingertips. He either was a guitarist, which seemed unlikely… Or he used a bow.
The girl on the other hand looked confident and sure of herself, if not the tiniest bit nervous. She was attractive, but her arms were perhaps more muscular than her District partner's, something which lent itself to the idea of her using some form of heavy weapon. A mace perhaps. Or even a flail. It certainly didn't match her delicate and nice persona she was putting out, but it was either that or she did a lot of lifting…
But she had a dark look in her eyes that perhaps set me on edge more than her comrade. He did look like he'd happily kill someone without much care, the way he looked at everything as if he owned it, but she had a more sinister way about her as she looked around the room as if it offended her.
Neither of them made me feel particularly comfortable…
The male seemed to keep his eyes on the female at all times, as if he was trying to work something out about her. In fact, he didn't even offer myself or Eloise a glance, even as he pushed past her to head towards the television. Perhaps he didn't know we were his competitors. Perhaps he did and didn't care.
"How do we watch the Reapings?" The girl asked directly, following the male with small steps and an angry tone to her voice, her Escort tiptoeing behind her with a ridiculously long train to her dress that was practically flooding the carriage, reaching for the control to the television that Fatima had set on the side from when she'd shown us the final few Reapings.
"Hurry; I want to see the other tributes." He added with a tone of voice that was somewhere between an angry bull and a child who was impatient and excited. It was only when he rolled his head lazily in the direction of Eloise and myself, that I felt a real and honest sense of threat that I couldn't misconstrued as me overthinking things. "I want to choose who's going to be my first kill."
In Memoriam:
Invidius Glasswhistle- Killed by: Lucretia Cachexia
Having a thin high heel embedded through his eye
Arizel Thymscar- Killed by: Attica Thymscar
Strangled with a cord belt and thrown out of a building in a staged suicide
So we went a bit more backstory heavy in this one and we even got a special guest appearance from Lucretia and our District Two Tributes. (Remember that one District? Back in like what, February? I suck SO much.)
Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed it, and please leave a little comment if you did.
One thing I am worried about is whether my overwhelmingly long update times have lost me most of my Readers. Even if so, I'm still going to write this story to the end, I doubt much will stop me from doing that, don't threat.
However I had a whole sponsor system planned out, and I can't do that if I don't have many readers. So please, if you do read, and you do enjoy it, I've tried sticking one of those poll things on my profile to get an estimate of how many readers I have still got.
I know it's effort, but It'll really help me out with this idea, as I'll have to tweak it slightly otherwise.
And of course, on the note of readers, please review if you did enjoy. Not only am I keeping count of my reviewers for those of you who submitted a tribute, but getting a review and reading it gives me a big hunk of inspiration to write the next bit.
My optimistic plan is to try and finish up the reapings by the End of the year... But who knows what'll happen, I don't like to promise because I don't know how busy December will be for me.
So please let me know if you enjoyed the chapter, leave a little review and give me some feedback, and head on over to tap a button on my profile
Thank you all for sticking with me
I WILL make it worth your while in the end.
I have such plans for the arena
It will be worth every month I've wasted
I promise!
District One: Luxury: Population 24,315
Female: Giada Beauchamp- 18
DamBaudelaires
Male: Narce Valentine- 18
District7axemurder
District Two: Masonry: Population 231,254
Female: Attica Thymscar- 17
One True Victor
Male: Quirinius Crayton- 18
Josephm611
District Three: Electronics: Population 195,329
Female: Ashni Ayres- 15
Taylor1103
Male: Kinnick Holtz- 16
AKLNxStories
District Four: Fishing: Population 111,453
Female: Koral Shelly- 17
Misfit-right-in
Male: WolfGang Schwarz- 18
Galactic Coach
District Five: Power: Population 134,345
Female: Gwynyth Wattson- 17
LiveFreeOrDie
Male: Brites Steinla- 16
later . glader
District Six: Transport: Population 784,453
Female: Lowelle Sable- 17
LordShiro
Male: Padget Geare- 17
Goldie031
District Seven: Lumber: Population 26,354
Female: Juniper Alameda- 18
TheDancerSG
Male: Javor Acton- 1
Josephm611
District Eight: Textiles: 122,134
Female: Eloise Falcon- 17
Atherva
Male: Stark Conwell- 17
OneTrueVictor
District Nine: Grain: Population 15,346
Female: Ryana Ruiz- 14
AmericanPi
Male: Ceres Syth- 16
Maveriqua
District Ten: Livestock: Population 19,234
Female: Doe Decem- 16
roses burning
Male: Haidyn Rivendell- 18
Goldenmoonhuntress
District Eleven: Agriculture: Population 138,546
Female: Chrysanta Bloomtown- 16
Skyheart003
Male: Saffron Stride- 16
ThePocketwatchRipper
District Twelve: Coal: Population 7,935
Female: Celine Dust-18
Nordic Nonsense
Male: Splice Wellwind- 16
HoppsHungerfan