(A/N): Happy Tuesday, everyone. We're back with another update. This time, we're featuring the lovely Silmarilz1701 with Angela Hawkins III on the second night after training.
Thank you to our writers who reviewed the latest chapter. We love reading how much you're enjoying this ride. ;) And thanks to Just a Crazy-Man as well as Slim Summers2002 for their reviews. We, too, really enjoyed that Diana-Kaldur fight ;)
Chapter Twenty-Four - Neon Gods
Evening Two
Angela Hawkins III of District Six
Written by Silmarilz1701
"Having art that's shiny and has neon lights is almost what you need for anyone to notice it."
Jim Shaw
"And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made" - The Sound of Silence, Paul Simon
Thunder claps rocked the compound the tributes stayed in. Pouring rain played music on the roof and windows, and Angela looked out into the dark at the myriad of lights of the Capitol. There were neon signs for shoe stores, designer bags, the theatre, hover taxis, and television outlets, each competing with the other over which was grander. Angela's suite was high in the air, and the windows were locked with special codes only the Games staff knew. Far below, she watched as cars made their way to something stupid from nothing at all.
She knew her stylist, Alison, was probably out on the town, hanging with the stylist from Two, Megan Gwynn, and Alison's stylist boyfriend, Warren. All through their interactions, she'd heard about the other stylists, their lives as celebrities. Alison, Megan, and Warren were well-known as having worked on the Games for years now, despite their relative youth.
What even was a celebrity in the bright Capitol of Marvel? Was it the most outlandish? The smartest? Definitely not. Was it perhaps the richest? Angela looked down at the street below. Street lights illuminated puddles of rainwater, reflecting in the pools. Few Capitolites moved on the streets, probably worried dearly about their latest hairstyles. She didn't know if rain was capable of dampening the Capitol, but she bet if anything could, it was rain.
The closest neon sign shone with blue and silver lights, blinking in patterns. She read off the word 'Attilan'. She wondered what it was. Angela wished she were here under better circumstances; she wanted to explore.
Moving away from the window, she turned back to her task of getting dressed. She had been standing in the window wearing nothing but her undergarments: black, lacy things gifted to her by the stylists. She found them odd, but not uncomfortable. As her toes sank into the fluffy red rug beneath her feet, she tried to decide what to wear tonight. She'd taken a cool, refreshing shower after twelve hours of training and now was ready to socialize.
Her closet was to the left of her bed as she looked at it. She was loathe to leave the large, circular, red rug. Angela was torn between wanting to lay down, half-dressed on her bed, where she could listen to the rain, or completing her seemingly simple task so she could go to work on the tributes. Angela was already exhausted physically from her second full day of training. Yet her mind screamed and screamed at her to go where people were. Her one fear was loneliness, something she had found abundant in the Capitol, despite being surrounded by children her age.
In the end, her fearful mind won out; Angela moved to her closet and opened the doors with a flourish. From the selection, she decided to wear black shorts and a delicate green top that flowed whenever she moved. Just teasing enough to hopefully catch some of the boys off-guard. One was on her mind in particular: a boy called Jack.
Three years older than her, and a complete jackass, he was going to be an asset in the Games… if she could weasel her way into his plans. It was going to be a challenge, even for her. After all, he had a crazy bitch in Harleen Quinzel. Not that he needed one; he was crazy enough himself, if the stories of his exploits were even half true. And she could say that; she had been in a gang herself. But his… his was beyond even Crossbones' fury.
Angela took the elevator to the common room, irritated with the crappy music it played to pass the time. By the end of her journey, she was ready to punch something. Her prayers were answered as the doors finally inched apart, letting her off the elevator. With a deep breath, she prepared to get to work.
As she made her way down the hall in her small heels, she listened in for what she was going to find. Besides the click of her own shoes, she singled out Harley's loud voice easily, mostly by her occasional psychotic laugh. Beyond that, she heard Helena and Dick laughing as well, the siblings from Seven. They were harder to pick out, but as soon as she turned the corner into the large room, she found Dick at least raucously having fun at the small gaming table and teasing his sister mercilessly.
The room they were allowed to socialize in this second evening was very large, to accommodate all twenty-four tributes. The far, long wall was made entirely of windows so that even here, away from the quiet, lonely room she'd come from, the teasing neon lights were still visible beyond the crazy rain. As she stood at the door, she noticed that most of the tributes were already there. Directly in front of her was a massive wooden table, seating ten, that currently held Kaldur, Cisco, and Caitlin at one end, and Kara, Diana, and Clark on the farther side. Behind the table was a small, secluded chair currently occupied by Pamela Isley.
Angela moved farther into the room, having no interest in sitting at the massive table just yet. She passed Kara Danvers, and the girl glanced her way but said nothing. Angela did the same, flashing her a false smile. To her left, as she walked, was one of the two televisions in the room. Both played only Avenger Games coverage, and this one was on low volume. Sitting on the couch, backs to her, were the two people she was most intrigued by after Jack Hamill: Jervis Tetch and Jonathan Crane. She would be sure to visit them tonight. But not just yet.
"Hello." Angela smiled at the two people before her. Dick Grayson had finally recovered from whatever had made him so joyful. They both looked at her in surprise and apprehension as Angela shot them a small smirk. She continued, "You two look like you're having fun."
Dick flashed her a tiny smile. "Yeah. You ever played checkers?"
"You know, not until yesterday." Angela sat down at the stool close to her next to both the siblings. "Someone taught me to play."
"Really?" Helena was slightly less interested in having Angela near them but was cordial nonetheless as she surveyed the board and determined her next move. "Who?"
"The girl from twelve. Kory Anders." Angela didn't miss the small, envious glance that Dick flashed her way at the mention of the super-attractive Kory.
Her initial suspicions were confirmed. She had seen Dick watching Kory that day during training. The tree climbing station, was it? She couldn't remember. All she did know was that Dick had looked very intrigued. And the prolonged staring he was sending Kory now was all too easy for her.
"She's interesting," Angela told them. Suddenly, she decided to try something. "I watched her Reaping, of course. That tribute to last year's girl was a nice gesture, but risky. She's basically just another Kate Bishop now in the eyes of the Capitol."
"She's more than some Kate Bishop clone," Dick said without much passion, perhaps too little, but definitely too fast. He pretended to be intently watching the board as Helena made her move.
"Better be careful around her, I'm sure. Remember all those psycho redheads last year?" Angela laughed, pleased with her joke. "She might turn out to be another Sinthea Schmidt or Natasha Romanoff."
Helena glanced at Dick before turning to Angela. "She's nice, not at all like them."
"Yeah, you're probably right." Angela looked over at Kory. "She certainly does know how to dress."
Dick was about to object, but Helena cut him off. "Says the fifteen-year-old wearing heels and short shorts."
"Touché." Angela let out a genuine laugh. "Well, I'll leave you two to your game." As she stood to leave them alone, she used one of Helena's pieces to jump over two of the distracted Dick's pieces. He looked at her in surprise. "Crown me. Or her."
Angela left Dick arguing with Helena over what was fair and what wasn't. But she had things to do, people to see. Dick Grayson was too easy for her; she wanted to play with someone worth slowly destroying.
Her real mission here was two-fold. She wanted to impress Jervis and Jonathan and weasel her way into Jack's plans.
As she looked around the room, she knew the easiest thing would be to talk to the two boys at the TV closest to her, but something other than food drew her to the kitchenette. Three people, to be specific. There were the two girls, Kory and Raven, and the boy, Garfield. Despite what she'd said to Dick, the most intriguing girl she'd seen so far was Raven.
Day one of training was a rude awakening for Angela Hawkins the Third. She was deposited in the massive indoor training complex alongside the twenty-three other tributes, her eyes wide and hunger written all over her face. She came out of training that day exhausted, drained, and altogether discouraged. But she knew the real game was to start that evening. The game of strategy, of mental prowess, was much more important to her than trying to impress the tributes through physical means.
She was playing a delicate game, a game of misdirection. She needed to impress the Capitolites, which was to be the easiest task, but also the other tributes. She was not strong enough to survive on her own, and her true strength came from manipulating others.
As she sat in the common room for that first evening, she couldn't help but observe the tributes as they entered. One girl, a thirteen year old tribute named Rachel, caught her eye. She decided to start with her.
"Rachel, right?" Angela stood and walked toward where the girl was heading. "From Nine?"
"Raven," she corrected her. "You are?"
"Angela, from Six." She left out the rest of her name.
"Right." Raven turned away.
But Angela continued, "You're pretty small. You can't be older than twelve."
Raven rolled her eyes and sat down on a chair. "I'm thirteen."
"So, why do you think they chose you?" Angela sat down opposite Raven. The two girls were some of the only tributes present thus far. "I mean, why would a victor choose someone so tiny?"
"I don't really care," Raven replied.
Angela noticed Raven's demeanor as someone trying to hide something. Or control something. But what was it? Why did Raven feel the need to control herself? Angela knew she'd need to do some research.
And so she had. What she discovered was better than anything she'd hoped for.
She knocked three times. Angela wasn't sure whether or not he would answer, but it was worth trying. She had questions, and she figured Big Red would have answers. When his door swung open, and his perpetually glaring face appeared, she smiled.
"What do you want, child?" He stood tall, at least a foot and a half above her. Yet she was not intimidated. She did not fear men.
"I need information on one Rachel Roth," Angela explained with a smile.
The Red Skull cocked an eyebrow. "You should be focusing on your strength training! Words will not help you."
"If you thought words weak, why pick me?" Angela smirked at him and walked into his living quarters. "Now, shall we begin?"
"Do not talk to me like some other tribute." He leaned forward and pushed her into a seat. "I am a victor. I am your path to victory. And victory is life."
"Believe me—" She nodded fiercely. "—I know. I will survive. I will succeed where Sin failed."
Red Skull actually flashed her a tiny smile, shocking Angela. So he likes to be reminded of the failures of his daughter. Interesting.
"I always told her it was foolish to try." He leaned back, sitting in a chair opposite Angela. "Sinthea was weak. She failed from the beginning."
Angela decided to try flattery. "Sir, you tried your best with her. There was nothing you could have done. Sinthea was simply helpless from the beginning. Not like you in your Games." She nearly choked on her defilement of Sin's name, but she had to win here and now. Sinthea was gone, and she wasn't coming back.
"What was it you needed my assistance with?" he asked soon enough, once he was done fawning over his own ego.
"There's this girl. Her name is Rachel Roth." Angela paused for emphasis. "What is she hiding?"
Trigon, Raven's father, was a dark spot in her life. He was imprisoned for domestic violence and murder. And the murder was of one Angela Roth, Raven's mother.
Angela decided it was time to really get to work. She moved towards the three tributes who were busy eating in the kitchen area. Her small heels clicked on the tile floor when she approached them, betraying her presence. All three looked up.
"Hello, Angela." Gar smiled widely. "What are you up to?"
Oh, Garfield. Ever so innocent, she thought. "Not much; just trying to get to know people better."
He insisted she join them. Angela had met Gar in training that morning, when both were at the swimming station. He was nice. Too nice.
"So, what do you think of the Capitol?" Angela asked Kory, Raven, and Gar.
"Stuffy," Gar complained loudly.
Angela chuckled. "Well, I suppose to a farm boy, it would be. Are you scared of going into the Games?" She didn't miss the apprehensive looks that Raven and Kory both had written all over their faces.
Gar shrugged. "I don't know. I guess."
"He'll be fine," Kory butted in.
Angela smirked. Finally, a reaction. "Only one of us will be fine."
"Maybe that'll be Gar," Raven added.
Angela allowed a small, fake smile to form on her lips. "Of course, Gar. I didn't mean anything by it."
He shrugged. "It's probably not going to be me; you weren't wrong."
Raven reached out and placed her hand on his arm. Angela immediately was curious. The simple touch seemed to hold a lot of emotion, something Raven was definitely not known for. Could it be that she cared for Garfield Logan?
"So, Kory, I managed to beat Dick in checkers." Angela smiled wide at Kory. "Thanks for that!"
"Oh, yeah?" Kory sent Dick a flirtatious glance as she spoke.
Angela couldn't tell if Kory was playing a game with Dick or sincerely had feelings. She guessed it was the former. A girl as attractive as Kory likely had boys pursuing her all the time. Angela knew it was that way back in Six; she had experienced it. As a girl of almost sixteen, she'd used her body more often than perhaps she was proud of to get her way.
"He's certainly a character," Angela added, looking back at Dick and catching his eye. She saw him blush at being caught staring the girls' way. "Why you would associate with him though, I don't know. You could do so much better."
"Who says I like him?" Kory objected. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't."
Raven was the picture of calm, except for her eyes. Angela glanced at her and saw a deep-seeded anger with what Angela was doing. She nearly laughed.
"Calm down, Birdie." Angela chuckled at her. "Your eyes might pop out, or you might attack someone."
Raven rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the warning, angel."
"I'm surprised you keep a lid on your anger so well," she continued. "I mean, you must have a lot of anger after what your father did to your mother. How horrible! And to be released on the day of the Reaping." She shook her head.
Raven froze, her arms dropping to her sides. Victory. That had garnered a reaction! Angela held back her smile, playing the part of perfect, caring tribute.
"What happened?" Gar asked Raven quickly. "Are you okay?"
"Nothing," she seethed. "Nothing happened."
Angela shrugged. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But it might be healthy for you." She sighed. "Well, I've got others to talk to. I'll see you later, I hope?"
"Sure," Gar nodded.
It was Harley's laugh that drew Angela towards them next. Now, her true mission could begin. Jack sat on a large, reddish-brown leather armchair that faced the entire room. He filled the whole chair, looking entirely done with the whole matter. He twirled a pencil in one hand and looked furious at nothing in particular.
"Hey, Jack." She pursed her lips and approached him slowly, flaunting her looks ever so slightly. "Aren't you tired of all this bullshit?"
Jack looked over at her. "Hello, hello, babydoll. You certainly clean up nice."
They'd first met in training the day before, and since then occasionally sparred with words. To be honest, though, most of the word-fights had been with Harleen Quinzel. Angela found Harley to be the biggest threat in the bunch. She was dangerous: incredibly smart and all but insane. There was very little likelihood of winning with Harley. And she had her claws in Jack.
Harley met her gaze, and both girls knew the other was a threat. Harley leaned over and whispered something to Jack.
"Get off me, Harley," he barked at her, pushing the girl off.
Harley sneered his way and put on a calculating smile. "Fine by me. Plenty of boys that want to play with me." She looked Angela up and down and let out a little giggle of pure amusement that only got more obnoxious and more genuine as she walked away. She was laughing hard enough to herself that she had to stop and rest one hand on Clark's shoulder for support before she recovered and then pranced happily over in the direction of Pamela Isley, who sat in the corner reading a book. Angela turned her attention back to Jack.
"So, Jack, I can see your gears turning." She grabbed a chair from the nearby table and pulled it over. Tilting her head to the side, she continued, "You and your posse ready for war yet?"
He was only half paying attention to Angela, the other half of his brain working as he observed all the tributes in the room. "Don't try to get in my head, girl."
She smiled and let out a short laugh. "Oh, Jack. I'm in everyone's head."
Angela watched him as his eyes were trained on Harley. The blonde girl had said 'hi' to Pamela only to switch into bouncing from Clark to Dick, playing around with them and flirting like even Angela couldn't do. She felt bitterness creeping up into her heart as she watched the girl. Her eyes glossed over as she began to feel a familiar chill grab her. She felt alone, alone among all the other children. She knew she had to snap out of it.
"You wanna know something?" Angela leaned over and spoke quietly to Jack. "I have information."
"What kind of information?" Jack rolled his eyes at her.
She narrowed her own. "The kind to bring down that little group of children over there." Perhaps an overstatement, but she didn't care. She used her head to gesture towards the trio in the kitchenette. "Anyone with any clue can tell they are getting… close."
Jack watched as Harley began speaking to Gar, calling out to the boy from Ten from where she was flirting with the older boys, and he gripped the arms of his chair tightly. "Go on."
She leaned in closer and told him all about Raven and her parentage, her little secret she was hiding from her friends. The corners of Jack's mouth lifted ever so slightly as he listened. Suddenly, though, he snapped out of his quiet watchfulness when Harley took things a bit too far with her flirting.
"Harley!" he barked at her angrily.
Angela snuck away, leaving from the shadows to speak to her next target. She wanted no part of Harley right now. That was a battle she couldn't win. Not yet, anyway. Not with Jack around.
She thought about approaching the close end of the large table, but she knew she would have a difficult time navigating the three who sat there. Diana would be a fun victim, but Angela would need to be alone with her for it to work. Kara and Clark... they were a curious pair. Angela got the sense that there was some bitterness between them, yet they played cordial enough when surrounded by the others. She needed more time to assess them.
One unknown was the Eleven girl, Pamela Isley. The girl was sitting in the corner of the room against the wall of windows, a book in her hands but her eyes staring off into the Capitol. Angela had to admit: her stylist had done wonderful work on the girl. Especially for the parade, Pamela Isley had looked tremendous.
Angela walked slowly over to where the girl sat. Pamela didn't react at first. The thing that surprised Angela the most was how calm the girl was. She was calm and distant. Even Harley didn't rattle her.
"Quite a view." Angela spoke softly, deciding on a different approach with Pamela. "All those neon lights."
"Yeah," Pamela agreed, though she seemed as distant as ever despite the conversation. "It's different."
"Different good?" Angela asked. "Or different bad?"
Pamela looked back at her at last. "I don't know yet."
With a slight smile, she turned on her caring voice. "It must be hard, coming here."
The other girl looked confused. "No harder than for anyone else."
"There aren't any plants here," Angela continued. "It's all wires and metal. I've seen the way you look at plants. Little green shoots without hope."
Angela saw no change in the girl. It was beyond frustrating, but she kept herself cool. Someday, Pamela would break for her.
"Well. I'll leave you then." Angela tossed her hair and wandered to the big table as Pamela went back to her book.
She turned from the redhead and looked around the room. The TVs were still showing Games coverage, mostly celebrities in the city talking about their favorite tributes from the parade, or the crazy exploits of the stylists this year. She turned from the electronics and back to the people around her. Her eyes fell on a pair sitting nearby. Cisco and Caitlin, if she remembered correctly. Tributes from Three, friends already.
Might be fun, she thought.
"You two look…um... good?" Angela cocked her head slightly to the side.
Cisco was fiddling with a small spoon, and a small plate sat in between him and Caitlin. Her own spoon, covered in chocolate icing, was on the plate as well.
"Thanks," Cisco nodded. He stopped flipping the spoon around and licked it once again. "You should try the chocolate cake, Angela. It's good."
"Might." She shrugged. "What'd you think of it, Frosty?"
Caitlin glared at the nickname. "It was fine. Better than anything back in Three."
"Three…" Angela nodded, leaning against the wall. "What was Three like, I wonder?"
"Fine," was all they responded with.
She smirked. "Keep your secrets. Don't mind me."
She walked a few paces away, toward the door. She found herself catching the eye of Kaldur Ahm. Kaldur was a strange one. Angela had seen him in the swimming pool; he was brilliant at it, a complete natural.
"Find something you like?" She strutted forward and winked.
Kaldur's eyebrows went up. "Quite the contrary. You're as slippery as an eel."
She was silenced at first, taken aback, and put her hands on her hips. "Better watch out for this eel, fish-boy."
Kaldur shook his head and turned back to the room and his glass of ice water to observe in silence. Angela wished she had a knife. She was deadly with one of those... but it would have to wait for the Games.
She was about ready to leave for the night, get a good rest before the next day's training, but she found Jonathan staring at her. She wandered toward him and knelt beside the edge of the couch, smiling at him.
"What are you up to, Jonathan?" Angela smirked at him.
"Plans." He grinned widely. "Lots of plans."
"Keep me in 'em." With a wink, Angela stood from the ground.
Jervis and Jonathan both were eager to begin the Games, or at least, that's what she thought. All throughout training, she had watched as the two of them studied venom and its uses. She even joined them once or twice. Besides tracker jackers, snakes, and other types of venom, though, she'd also studied the various hallucinogenic plants. She figured it might come in handy.
Angela looked out the window as she stood in the doorway. The rain was lighter now than before, but thunder and lightning still shook the building. Angela sighed as she looked one last time upon those in the room before turning and taking the elevator up to her suite.
Her mind began drifting. Tomorrow, unbeknownst to the other tributes, was her sixteenth birthday. Birthdays were something she only ever celebrated with Crossbones back home, and even then, he only would give her an extra job to celebrate. Angela couldn't help but wonder what life would've been like had she not broken her family.
Nothing would've changed, she thought. Those idiots were too busy worrying about each other to care for me.
Angela slowed to a snail's pace as she entered her bedroom. Her eyes drifted from the bed to the windows, and slowly, she was drawn to them. Outside the neon gods of the Capitol were spinning webs of lies and propaganda, a web she would soon have to negotiate with the interviews, the sponsors, and the Gamemakers. As she looked out, she saw the glittering wonder of the Capitol.
But on top of that, the reflection of herself in the glass was what fascinated her most. She was just a girl, an almost sixteen year old girl, with a brain and a mouth to go with it. She found herself loving the new green irises her stylist had given her, and in the reflection, they sparkled just like the neon lights.
Capitolites might think they are gods to us, she thought to herself. But I will reach them, those neon gods. I will join them.