Tetra Comn (16), District Eleven Female-POV
Right now, I decide that I feel like pretending that I am a bird. My favorite kind of bird, the Mockingjay, seemed like a pretty good idea to me. So, to the protests of my Escort, I clambered on over to the exit of the train. We'd been cooped up in here all too long, it was high time that I stretched out my wings and soared. Doing so, a little jump let me sail above the crowds of onlookers, and my spirit truly felt free. For centuries I could have stayed like this, away from the darkness in my past, but alas, it would not be so. The cold concrete ran up at me, embracing me cruelly as the Capitol citizens gasped in horror. Pain, I must have been bleeding, for the ground had turned to a dull red color, and I couldn't quite tell left from right.
My Mentor sighed, "Tetra…Come on, girl, and we've got lots to do today…"
Her name was Bess, I believe, and I really wish that I had gotten Jabber as my mentor. Jabber had stark white hair, paired with dark tan skin, making it looked like he was walking around with snow on his head. While it was never confirmed, we all knew his hair had used to be a chocolate brown, so people said that he had experimented with Morphling and Hot Chocolate at once. This didn't make any sense at all to me, most likely since I climbed my own trees, without company, during the harvest season. People said I didn't make sense either, so it might have had something to do with that as well. It didn't matter; I just thought I'd get along with Jabber better, as our personalities were identical right now.
Bess picked me up, holding me like a little baby. Cooing at her, just like a bird would, I couldn't help but wonder why she was rolling her eyes at me. Her eyes were a rich amber color, looking like candlelight or the soft embers of a dying fire. It complimented her dark skin perfectly, casting a healthy glow through her long locks of hair. Dark hair, smooth and sleek, was braided into two ponytails; Bess had been classified as a knockout when she had been a Tribute for her Hunger Games. Still, it must have been deceptive, as Bess wasn't the sweet and innocent person that they had thought. Instead, the other Tributes in the arena learned that lesson the hard way, and surprisingly, Bess held the record for most kills in the arena. Obviously, not many of the Careers liked that.
The Mentor carried me into Remake center, the flow of blood coming slowly to a stop. Did she like me, I wondered. I hoped that she did, as she seemed like a very nice person and I didn't have all too many friends back in District Eleven. There was only three people that I could call 'friend' and none of them appeared all too happy when I said that. Let me see…There was Walton, the star track runner at our school, who was very tall, almost seven feet! He looked kind of cute, but right now, all I could think about is birds. Birds, birds, birds; the most delightful thing in the entire country of Panem, no, in the entire world of…World! What did the world look like anyways? I hope it's not flat; it'd be awful if the world was flat. Why, you may ask? Simple, I think round things look better! A bird isn't flat, it's sort of round!
Finally, we walked inside of the cool and sterile building, where Bess left me in a strange room with three odd people looking me over. The first one, a man who looked like a kitty cat, was named Orion. I could practically see the question buzzing on his lips, wanting to know why this girl from District Eleven had decided to Volunteer for the Games. Deciding to let him toss and turn with it, I simply smiled and made more bird noises at them, which caused Orion to raise a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
"Why are you kah-ing at me?" he asked in his pompous Capitol accent.
Pompous, hmm…I like that word. It's my new favorite word now, so no one else is allowed to use it. Not even Persei, though if I recall, people did seem to like him a lot. All right, he can use it all he wants, but no one else can. Not even my friends; you know, Walton, Era, and Lewi. They had no right to use that word, especially since they didn't come and visit me during my Goodbye time slots. Only the head caretaker at the Orphanage did, and it was to give me my token, a little stuffed teddy bear. I think I left it on the train, not too sure, I'll have to ask Mr. Sparkly-Pants, our Escort. He was very fun to talk to, Mr. Sparkly-Pants, but not nearly as much fun as Jabber. Jabber was the one who woke me up this morning, but I had already been talking to the birds, so it didn't matter all too much.
"Kah! Kah, kah, kah!" I chirped up at him, "I like to kah! Kah, kah, kah!"
The youngest girl in the Prep team, Siellamiane, rolled her eyes slightly. The look on her pale face was clear to everyone in the room; she had already marked me down as insane. When I was younger, people merely smiled and said cute things towards me, but they don't do that anymore. I don't understand why, as the only difference between six and sixteen is a number, and numbers don't matter. If numbers did matter, then the Hunger Games would never existed, as they wouldn't want their numbers of population to be decreased by twenty four, now twenty six people each year. But President Gremlin is nuts, I am not nuts, so it makes sense to me; it's only logical. All logical things make sense, so things that don't make sense aren't logical, so it only makes sense that numbers don't matter, as it wouldn't be logical if they did matter.
"Okay then…," Orion murmured, and then instructed me to strip down so they could see what they were working with.
Doing so, the Prep team instantly got to work, with only one comment that I had an unusual skin tone for my District. Frowning slightly, they must have seen that I was sensitive about it, wishing that I had the lovely brown color that Bess, Jabber, and Persei all had. I'd always been the odd one out, even before I was an Orphan, even before…No, now is not the time for bad thoughts, this is a happy place, so I must be happy too. If I wasn't happy, that would make other people unhappy, which never leads to good things. So I plastered a smile on my face, trying not to wince as they ripped and tore each little hair, that wasn't on my head, from my body. This must have been some sort of grand punishment, as they seemed all too excited to perform it on me.
"Right, now we're going to go get Amos!" Grenna, the last member of the Prep team, informed me.
"Kah!" I replied, "Kah, kah!"
Yes, it is fun to be a bird. I wish I could be like this more often. Yet I am sad, as my fez from my Reaping outfit is no doubt on the train, headed to people who don't like fezzes and will shoot it on the spot. Tears slipped out of my eyes, not because I Volunteered for my death, but because I will never see my little red fez again; I hope it's not lonely like I am.
Persei Baxwoll (14), District Eleven Male-POV
Guided into the Remake Center, Bess gave me a look. Clearly, she's hoping that I won't need any help finding my Prep team, as her hands are a bit full with my District Partner. Nodding back at her, cracking a grin, I can't help but wonder if they're going to take Tetra to the doctor or not. Everyone in the District knows about Tetra or Crazy Comn as we call her. If you're lucky, she doesn't think that you're her friend, but if you're not, well, Walton Briggs has been putting up with her since kindergarten. Not having met her before, the rumors seemed untrue, about how she had murdered her own parents, the reason she had to live in the Orphanage. But if that had been true, wouldn't she have gone to prison? Guess District Eleven really is messed up, not like I didn't already know that already.
"Hello, Persei!" a man with too many piercings greeted, "I'm DiDi and we're your very own…you guessed it…Prep team! Yay!"
Chuckling, "Nah, I thought you were the Gamemakers and this was the arena! …So we're fighting each other with shampoo, then? Fun!" I joked.
For some reason, this sent the entire Prep team on the floor with laughter. The sad thing about it was that it wasn't all too funny what I had just said, yet it had these Capitol citizens in hysterics. This should be in my favor, especially if every other person in the Capitol was exactly like them. Miri, my sister, would have loved being pampered by these people. I hate my sister, it's always, "Miri this," and, "Miri that," so everyone always forgets about me. Only my friends, Tiberius and Lianna, haven't forgotten about me, and even then I'm a third wheel sometimes. I don't mind that though, as long as I don't have to deal with Miss Popularity all day long…but I am glad that she never had to be in the Hunger Games.
"You know, I'd love to be a Gamemaker," ChiChi, a petite stylist with her black hair drawn up in a bun, gushed, "Wouldn't you, MiMi?"
"Oh yeah, I'd make the best arenas ever!" MiMi trilled, a head shorter than ChiChi with wicked pink curls.
The first thing I noticed about them was the pattern in their names; what was next, my stylist being named LeeLee? If that was the case, it would only prove my suspicion further, and then I'd only have to convince people to listen to the truth about those blasted Mockingjays. You see, everyone is really just here to make me settle down, that way I won't think anything is going to happen; in fact, Miri might even be in on it too, or even my own parents. Then when they finally have you thinking that nothing bad could happen to you, that you'll live forever in happiness, it happens. You get Reaped for the Hunger Games, a source of dread, death, terror, and glory in some cases. Well, if anyone says that's a load of garbage, all they need to do is look at the kids who didn't Volunteer for the Hunger Games. Evidently, the Prep team was in on the whole deal as well, luring me in before they can spring another trap. Well, that isn't going to happen this time, pals! You won't be getting the best of me!
"You're the best sister ever!" ChiChi squealed, pulling in MiMi for a hug.
DiDi rolled his eyes, and then removed each article of clothing from my body. My Reaping clothes, my red shirt and black dress pants, fell crumpled up to the floor, where they stayed without another second thought from DiDi. Miri had picked those out to me, I realized with a heavy heart, and now I wouldn't ever get to see her again. Right now, I kind of wished I had been nicer to her, that I hadn't said I hated her; I loved my sister. Maybe I'd be able to work it into my Interview someway, somehow, just to let her know before it's all too late.
They circled around me, noting my strong points with squeals and my, well, weak points with sighs. I've always been extremely scrawny and small for my age, almost smaller than some of the twelve year olds in our District. It didn't help that I was only fourteen years old either, which gave me an incredible disadvantage in the Hunger Games. If I win, then it would have to be rigged, as the Tributes from One and Two frighten me this year. The male from Four seems strong, but a little bit wimpy, just because of his District partner. That is, if you're looking at it from a sponsor's point of view, which I find I often do.
MiMi commented on my short hair, and from her viewpoint, it almost looked bald. Yeah, my hair is extremely short, a shade or two darker than my skin. The thing is that it's actually curly, but it's not like anyone but I would be able to know that. When I was younger, it was a full blown afro puff, but most of the kids had teased me, saying that a Mockingjay would nest in it. Even if they were cruel, they did have a point about the Mockingjays so I shaved almost all of it off, just to be safe. I've always hated the Mockingjays, which other people can't seem to understand why, no matter how many times that I explain it to them. Jabberjays have been disguised as Mockingjays by the Capitol, just going by a different name so we're all cozy around them, not thinking that they're recording each and every word I say. In my mind, that's why the rebellion failed, since the very symbol of it was one of the longest and most devious plots of the dreadful Capitol. If Katniss Everdeen was as clever as everyone said she was, tricking the female Tribute from District Five into taking her own life, then she should have known all about the Mockingjays.
Another thing that I know, and no one else understands, is that Katniss Everdeen, well, Katniss Mellark was working for the Capitol. Look at the evidence! She'd been picked to execute President Snow, but instead she shot the leader of the revolution! How come no one but me can see that? It's as obvious as can be. Hopefully I'll meet a Tribute with some sense to them, one that won't laugh at me like Tiberius and Lianna did when I voiced the truth on this matter. And ever since, and forever more, I'll never trust the Mockingjays.
"Well, let's get you cleaned up real quick!" ChiChi stated, pulling me over to a bath where I was assaulted with soap.
Hours later, my skin felt as if it was throbbing, as if it would fall off by a mere gust of wind. And for some reason, my stylist had felt the urge to take a coffee break, knowing that I'd be ready by now. This may have been another pivoting moment, just like the Reaping, in which the unexpected would become reality. Of course, one of my mottos is to expect the unexpected, and trust me; everything is expected in my mind. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if the corpse of Katniss Everdeen would be placed in the arena to scare the crap out of us. In fact, an odd feeling in my stomach told me that just that would be happening, and I best be prepared for when I came face to face with the Mockingjay.
Arsenius Gremlin, President of Panem-POV
Sitting in the oval office, the face of President Snow stared at me. Each of us looked terribly alike, almost like brother, yet I'm sure my smile was more sadistic then his. Fingering at the files my precious niece had sent me, I relaxed in the leather chair, sure that this year would not be a disappointment. Still, I remember all too clearly the Young Mockingjay, the exotic beauty whom I had slain. Pulling off my white gloves, the same ones that I had worn that very day, her blood still stained my ghostly skin.
"After all these years…," I murmured, "And yet you are still fighting this one last battle…How…ignorant of you, Miss Everdeen…"
Her blood, a fascinating red color, had intrigued me from the very moment it spilt from her, like juice from one of those sweets my son is so fond of. The very taste of it had heightened my every sense, prompting me to not allow those blundering fools that I ruled over to wash it off. Yet somehow, her blood seemed to be smiling up at me, waiting for something to strike me down. A chilling silence told me the news I didn't want to hear, the news that no President of the Capitol would ever want to hear.
The Third Rebellion. Chaos, chaos will start again.
So I'm creating a website for this story! Yay? Yay, I hope! If each of you could PM me who your Tribute looks like, I'll have the website up A.S.A.P! There was some foreshadowing in this chapter, and I thought it best that you finally got to hear a little bit more from the viewpoint of Gremlin. If you'd like to hear more from the Gremlins, say so in the review! Otherwise, you'll see the "beloved" President or the "cherished" Gamemaker whenever I feel like writing in a scene for them…Don't forget to review and PM me who your Tribute looks like! Thanks!