The Capitol
The Capitol Hall
2209 Hours
Christy Donahue smiles at the crowd as she tiptoes onto the stage. The small seven-year-old pats down her fluffy fairy dress, and takes a seat beside Caesar.
"Hello," she says sweetly.
"Aww, hello," Caesar says, resisting the urge to pull the little girl into a hug as her face breaks out into a wide smile. "How are you tonight, dear?"
Christy ponders this. She sticks her chin on her fist and stares up at Caesar. "Well, I guess I'm a bit sad."
"Sad? And why is that?"
"I might not come back here again." The girl sticks out her lower lip.
"Oh, yes you will." In a box. Caesar smirks, turns it into a reassuring smile.
"You think so?" Christy's face lights up.
"I know so." Caesar didn't like lying, never had. But this wasn't a lie.
"Great!" The young girl hugs him around the waist. "I can't wait to see you guys again!"
"You like it here, then?"
"Course I do! Everything's so colorful, and the food's really nice! In Nine, they don't let us eat stuff from the fields."
"Ah."
"Yeah. So, I like it here, but..." Christy hesitates. "I miss home. I miss Mother and Father and Diane."
"Tell us about them," Caesar suggests.
"Well, Mother's really caring, and I love her a lot," she murmurs. "I wish Father was home more often, but he works really long hours, so he's rarely there when I go to bed."
"I'm sure he loves you all the same," Caesar says.
"I loved him," she says.
"So, who is Diane?"
"She's my best friend," Christy answers. "She's six, a year younger than me, but she's in my class at school. She's really nice, and we've been friends since we met at school a while ago."
"I'm sure she misses you, too."
"I miss them all. I miss them so much. And I might not ever see them again..."
"No, you'll go back to Nine," Caesar says. "I'm sure of it."
"But I might not. I might never see them again...ever..." Christy's face crumples, and a dam of tears bursts. "I always thought I'd grow up with them and Diane and everyone. I - I was gonna live right next to Diane in the lot next to where I live now, and we'd visit a lot, and neither of us would...die..."
"Think positively!" Caesar urges. "You've got too many fans to count!"
Christy attempts to staunch the flow of tears. "I...I do?"
"Yeah! Lots and lots!"
"Thanks..."
"Yeah, so you think you can win, right? Right?"
"Maybe I can," she says uncertainly. "But I'm seven. I - I - " The tears start up again, flooding the crevices on her face, rolling onto her neck. "Caesar, don't let them kill me, maybe if you say they can't, they won't, and I'll be safe and live with Diane and Mother and Father, and maybe they really won't kill me, and maybe I won't have to go into the arena at all, if you just..."
Caesar shakes his head, smiling. Not a chance of that happening. He lived for the Games. For the deaths. So Christy was competing. You win some, you lose some.
"I'm sure you'll blow a bunch of minds when you win," he says cheerfully.
Christy looks up and sees him, and bursts into another round of tears.
The timer beeps, but she doesn't budge from her seat.
"Christy," Caesar says softly. "Christy, it's time for you to go." He shakes her arm gently, and she rises. Slowly, she walks through the doors.
"Bailee Mitchell," Claudius murmurs. He lists her training score, her rank, and Caesar dutifully absorbs it all.
"Bailee Mitchell!" he shouts when Claudius's list is complete. "Second girl from District Nine! Let's give her a hearty round of applause, folks! Show her how we do it here!"
The audience happily complies, and Bailee walks out onto the stage through a cloak of enthusiasm.
"Good evening, Bailee," Caesar says, extending his hand.
"Hello," the fourteen-year-old says, gripping it with her own. "Beautiful night. You can't really see the stars outside of the Capitol Hall, it seems. It's the only place in the Capitol."
Caesar laughs. Several cameras flip around to view the light-studded ceiling of the hall, but most remain focused on the pair on the stage as Caesar says, "You can see them in the mountains."
"I'm sure you can. But not above the city. Just here." She grins.
"The Capitol has it's up points, even if they don't revolve around the stars."
"I'm sure it does," Bailee agrees. "I can't deny it, the food is wonderful here. But at least you can see the stars in District Nine. The night workers say they're great from the fields, but they're great enough looking out from inside. I do wish I could spend the night hours outside, see the stars up close, I guess."
"You can do that in the arena."
Bailee smiles. "Hopefully I will be able to. But that's making two assumptions. One, that the arena is outdoors. It's been indoors before. Two, that I survive the bloodbath." She doesn't elaborate on this one.
"Do you think you'll be among the survivors?" Caesar asks with a frown.
"It's possible."
"Likely, I'd think. You scored higher than many of the others in training, and you're ranked sixty-first. That's not in the bottom third, so you're not expected to die tomorrow."
"Not expected to," she repeats, her tone slightly mocking. "You don't expect me to die tomorrow. That's reassuring."
Caesar laughs, and the audience follows his cue. "The predictions are often correct."
"Often." Bailee grins. "In Nine, there's always a push to find out whether the next year will be good for growing. Our predictions are usually correct, but no one likes it much when nothing ends up growing, whether or not that was the prediction."
"Ah, yes, District Nine," Caesar says. "Tell us about it."
"Well, I've already told you a bit," Bailee says. "You can see the stars there, and we always make our predictions, that stuff. So, we might not get as much food and quality stuff there, but it's nice all the same. It's...home."
"Home," Caesar echoes. "How is your family?"
The fourteen-year-old smiles wistfully. "My parents both work in the fields dawn to dusk. I don't see them much, so we get along better than some. I have an older brother, Riley. He also works in the fields - we all do - but he isn't twenty yet, so his hours aren't as long. He's a great brother."
"Do you miss them?"
"Of course I miss them. I hope I can see them again. I'll do my very best to win, and that's the best I can do."
"It is," Caesar agrees. "So, any friends worth noting to us?"
Bailee smiles. "Of course. Like Winston. You know him."
Caesar's eyes widen. "Luke? Our Luke?"
"Nope. My Luke."
Caesar grins. "Oh! Are you two together?"
The girl blushes. "Um, we're fourteen. For now, we're just...close friends. But hopefully, one day..."
"It must be hard on both of you. Only one can win."
"That rule was broken once," Bailee says hopefully. "Maybe the Capitol will see the blossoming relationship and lives here, and break it one more time. We'd both be ever so grateful."
"Best of luck," Caesar says solemnly.
"Thank you."
Alessia Lingenburg looks quite at home on the stage, on her seat next to the second most famous person in all of Panem. She grins at the audience and enthusiastically shakes Caesar's hand.
"How's it going?" she asks.
"Great as ever," he responds. "And yourself?"
"Well, I'm a bit nervous, I have to admit, but I'm really excited, too."
"Excited? Good, good!"
Alessia smiles. "And not just about tomorrow and the next few weeks. Tonight, too. I'm really excited to finally see you! I never imagined that I'd ever get a chance to talk to the great Caesar Flickerman."
"It's an honor to speak with you tonight," Caesar responds, chuckling. "You're the focus tonight, dear. Tell us a bit about yourself."
"What about myself?" the fifteen-year-old inquires.
"Oh, say, what went through your mind when you were chosen at the reaping?" Caesar fixes her in a curious stare.
"Well, I was shocked," she says with a laugh. "I mean, my name wasn't in the bowl many times, so I wasn't expecting to be one of the eight. I was a bit nervous, too, because I didn't know what was going to happen to me."
"Has your perspective changed at all in the days since?"
"Well, I learned a lot during training, so I'm pretty hopeful that I'll be the victor," Alessia says. "And I met a lot of wonderful people in my stay here, which has really made this an interesting experience."
"Ah, speaking of your relations with others, have you made any friends? With the other tributes, I mean?"
"Of course," Alessia says with a smile. "We're going to ally in the arena."
"Who?"
"Brooke, Misa, and Azure," Alessia answers. "They're all from Three. Apparently they all know each other by sight, but never really spoke before now. They're a few years younger than me, but I see no reason why that should obstruct our friendship."
"Many tributes consider their allies just...well, allies," Caesar says. "Do you consider the three friends? Not just allies in the arena?"
"Of course. They're really fun to be with, and I plan on protecting them until we all die."
"If you die."
"If we die."
"Do you think you'll die?" Caesar sits forward, puts his elbows on his knees.
"The odds aren't in my favor," Alessia admits. "Then again, I did learn quite a bit in training. I have decent aim with a slingshot, you know. So, it'll be very difficult, but I don't know, I may actually have a shot at this."
"You do," Caesar assures her. "So, tell us about your family."
"I live with my mother and my brother, Lucas," Alessia answers, adjusting her dress. "My mother works really long hours in the field, because she needs to support the three of us. Lucas and I help out when we can. Lucas, he loves stating these random facts. He's a storyteller, which can be nice when I'm in the mood for a story, but it can get a bit annoying."
"And your father?"
The girl's face falls. "He died when I was eleven."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
She shrugs. "I've gotten over it. I miss him, but it's been four years. I'm just glad that he was the only one who got sick. I can't imagine what life would be like without Mother or Lucas."
"Well, I'm sure he'd be proud of you if you won. And your mother and brother will be!"
"If I win," she echoes. "Not a big chance of that happening, but I'll do my best. You can count on that."
"I'm glad I can." Caesar smiles at the girl. "It was great meeting you, Alessia. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
The final girl from District Nine is even smaller than Christy. The dark-haired girl is only five years old. A sweet smile is permanently fixated on her face as she walks to her seat. She wears a cute dress, and her hair is pinned back with a white rose clip.
"Hello, Ava," Caesar says, admiring the small girl.
"Hello, Caesar," Ava says, hopping into her seat.
"How are you tonight, dear?"
Ava doesn't respond, just regards the audience, her lips parted.
Caesar laughs. "A bit overwhelming?"
"Yeah. But it's cool." She nods at the crowd. "There are lots of people here."
"Yeah, and they all want to know all about you!"
Ava grins. "Cool! My name is Ava and I'm five years old. I live in District Nine. I love it there, but it's cool here, too. And I'd like to be your friend!" She looks hopefully across the sea of people.
Caesar pats the girl on the knee, chuckling. "One step at a time, my dear. So, what do you think of that lovely dress you have on?"
"I love it! It makes me feel like a princess." She grins, and the audience coos.
"I can only imagine," the man says playfully. "So, you love it in District Nine?"
"Yep!"
"What's life like for you there?"
"Great! Well, sometimes."
"What's your family like?" the man inquires.
"Well, my mom died giving birth to me," Ava says, a few tears rolling down her face. "I wish she didn't. I never knew her, but I miss her. I think - I think she'd be proud of me. And I have a sixteen-year-old sister, Lily Ruth. She's really protective, and I love her and miss her."
"And your father?" The second time in two interviews, but it doesn't matter to the audience, so Caesar asks anyways.
Ava looks away. "He used to be really nice and father-y, Lily says, but I don't know him like that. He's always been big and...he bullies me sometimes."
Caesar gets the feeling that she's underestimating her experiences with him, but he doesn't press the matter. "Well, I'm sure he'll be quite friendly to you if you're the victor!"
"Probably," Ava says happily.
"So that's a reason to win, isn't it?"
"Yep!"
"Now, what do you think of the Capitol?"
"It's...big...and there are lots of people..." She casts another glance at the audience.
"Well, you've got too many fans to count here, and a bunch back in Nine, too, I'm sure!"
Ava gives the crowd a big grin. "Thanks! I hope I can come back and see you all again!"
"Ah, yes, Ava," Caesar says. "Do you think you will be able to win?" There are some chuckles from the audience, but they are quickly shushed. y
Ava frowns. "Maybe, I dunno. Ya know, until the reaping, I didn't know what the Games were. They make you famous, but I didn't realize I'd have to use a slingshot. But that's okay! I like slingshotting."
Caesar laughs. "Well, you'll have quite a few targets in the arena! Be prepared for anything."
"Always." She nods solemnly.
"Well, thanks for joining me tonight," Caesar says.
"You're welcome. See you soon!" Ava gives him a wide smile and leaves the stage.
The crowd's cheering levels up a notch when the first boy from District Nine takes the stage. Ranked twenty-fifth out of ninety-six, Zarath Samuel earned a ten in training, and has become a crowd favorite. A mysterious aura cloaks him, but it fails to ward the fans off; rather, they surge forward, demanding he speak.
"Hello," Caesar says.
Zarath takes a seat, smoothing out his suit as he fixes Caesar in a menacing glare. He does not speak.
"Hello," Caesar repeats, louder this time. "How are you tonight, Zarath?"
"Not in the mood to waste time that could be spent taking down my competition," the seventeen-year-old says cooly.
Caesar nods. "You're a killer?"
"You'll find out soon enough, I'd expect."
"Well, I suppose it's hardly a question," the man says apologetically. "I mean, the Gamemakers wouldn't award a ten to a tribute who wouldn't kill, would they?"
"Ask them," Zarath says. "I doubt it. I'm certainly not an exception. Be glad you're not going to be in the arena with me."
"Ohh, I'm very glad of that," Caesar says with a laugh.
"As you should be." Zarath smiles coldly.
"Zarath, my dear boy, tell us what you think of the Games."
"If you're asking if I like them, well, I think they're a great method of blowing off steam and practicing your abilities," the boy says. "If you're asking what I think will happen, well, that's even easier. I'm going to twist all the other tributes' bodies into shapes so obscure you Capitol people could use them as art."
Caesar's eyes bug out. Wow, he mouths. "We've certainly got a killer on our hands," he says, nodding appreciatively.
"Now you won't be caught off guard." Zarath casts a contemptuous glance at the doors. "I'd bet a bunch of the others who aren't listening will have a nasty surprise when they see that kid from Nine standing over them with a sword. Not that it matters - they'll soon be a wreck of skin, bones and blood, whether or not they saw it coming."
"So, I expect you believe you will be the victor?" Caesar inquires.
"Why would I doubt my abilities? I am not an idiot. I know what I am capable of."
"Your family will be proud when you win," Caesar says, smiling. "I always love watching the family reunion scene."
"Well, it really is too bad my family gave up the opportunity to live in Victor's Village," Zarath says.
"Sorry?"
"They left me on the streets when I was young." His voice is flat, emotionless. "They sent me to live with this old homeless man. I eventually ran away from him, too. I learned how to fight, how to survive. And here I am now, the strongest person in the district."
"So you've survived alone on the streets all this time?" Caesar shakes his head in disbelief.
Zarath can picture the woman in his mind. The woman in the white Peacekeeper suit. Samantha, who kept him out of trouble, who could always be bribed to help. Though he would never admit it, Zarath owes his life to her. And if he tells the Capitol about her, the Peacekeeper who helped the district boy, she would likely lose her job. Either that or she would be subject to more social pressure than she could handle.
So Zarath does not mention her name.
"Well, you'll get the house all to yourself, then!" Caesar says enthusiastically.
"Yes, I will," Zarath agrees. "My uncle would have been my neighbor.. He came close."
"Your uncle?"
"Yes. Jax Samuel. He came in fourth in the seventy-first Hunger Games. He was killed by the boy from Seven." Zarath clenches his fists. "I didn't know he was my uncle until I saw a replay a few years ago. He looked quite a bit like me, and we shared a last name. In the clip, the boy from Seven was killing him. I will kill a Seven male just as his predecessor killed Jax. I will stick my sword into his chest and twist it until he is dead, dead and cold, gone."
"You sound eager," Caesar says with a grin.
"I am eager." Zarath digs his fingernails into his arms. He can't be weak, not now, not in a fight to the death. He must kill, he must win this, he must. "I will win this, Caesar. And if I do go down, somehow, I will take as many as I can down with me."
"Luke Winston!" Caesar calls.
The doors open, and a young dark-haired teenager walks onto the stage.
"Welcome, Luke!" Caesar says enthusiastically.
"Hello, Caesar," the fourteen-year-old says good-naturedly. "It is a beautiful night." He gestured toward the ceiling. "Quite a few stars. I must agree with my Bailee."
"Ah, yes, Bailee," Caesar says. "I hear you knew her before the reaping brought you together."
"I did." Luke smiles. "We're in the same year at school, and we live pretty close to each other. We've been friends for years."
"Just friends?"
"We used to be," Luke says. "I think our relationship has evolved since we first met, though."
"You're a couple?"
"Unmarried, but practically, yes."
"Ooh." Caesar grins. "So, what was it like for you, when you were both chosen?"
Luke turns his head to hide the pain on his face. "She was picked first. That was the worst moment of my life. I had planned on living with her forever. I thought we would both see old age. Well, as old as you can get in District Nine. I couldn't bear the thought of my Bailee going into the Games. The odds of her beating ninety-five others...miniscule."
"And then you were chosen."
"And then I was chosen." Luke exhales. "I had been debating whether or not to volunteer. I wanted to protect her, but I had people at home that needed me, too. So it was almost a relief when I was picked. It wasn't my fault I had to leave. But as I said, people at home need me, too."
"Like whom?" Caesar inquires.
"Like my sister, Amber," Luke says. "She's just ten years old. I need to protect her, I always have. Now that I'm gone, she'll have to take tesserae. They make you take a few servings of it when you're in the community home. She's there right now, and will stay there if I don't win. Or maybe Bailee's family will take her in. I really, really hope they do..."
"What happened to your parents?"
"They're dead," he says abruptly. "They were caught stealing a few years back. And...stealing is punishable by death. They were taken to the Peacekeeper Headquarters, then to the district square. Amber and I had just gotten out of school when we saw the crowd in the square. We joined it, and saw what was happening. I was on my way to the stage when Mother saw me. I was going to scream to her, but then they shot her. And then they shot Father."
"Ah. I'm sorry, Luke."
"I still have Amber and Bailee, and that's all that matters now."
"So, what do you hope to accomplish from these Games?" Caesar asks curiously.
"I hope to save Bailee," Luke says firmly. "She deserves to live. But then again, I must get back to Amber. So, like Bailee, I hope that the Capitol can take mercy on us and allow a young couple to survive, just as they did once before."
"I'm sure Amber wishes for that, too," Caesar agrees. "And you seem like a strong and able young man. Do you think you will win?"
"I think that with a bit of luck, I will be able to give Bailee the crown," Luke says. "With some more luck, maybe I can win alongside her. That is my dream, Caesar."
"Good luck," Caesar responds.
"Thank you."
Nikolai Peridue stands just beyond the great doors, still in their shadows. The audience does not see him, and he is grateful for the darkness. He never liked attention. He had spent his entire life seeking solitude, which those around him had happily granted him. He could not think of a time worse than this. Now, he stood before hundreds of thousands of people, all of Panem. He would have to talk to them.
"Nikolai Peridue!" Caesar shouts again, holding out his arm.
"Go," a woman hisses. Nikolai turns his head. The lady at the door gestures for him to take the stage, gives him a slight push.
The boy takes a deep breath and steels himself. And then his foot breaks through the shadows and into the light.
The audience cheers with every intent of damaging Nikolai's ears. Caesar walks over to him and puts a hand on his shoulder to lead him to the chairs, but Nikolai jerks away.
Caesar makes an astonished face, and the audience hoots with laughter.
Nikolai takes his seat and scrunches down into the chair, trying to disappear, to get away from these people, for they're trying to kill him. Tomorrow he could very well be dead.
"Someone looks nervous," Caesar says, chuckling. "I can't blame you. When I first started doing what I do now, the crowds terrified me."
The twelve-year-old doesn't respond. He stares at the crowd, hoping his fear isn't apparent.
"So, how are you tonight?"
Nikolai turns his glance, looks uncertainly at Caesar. He was talking to him. And he expected him to respond.
"Come on, my dear boy. How are you?"
Nikolai manages a shrug.
"Not used to this attention?"
The boy nods shakily.
"Well, say something," Caesar encourages. "We've only heard your voice once. At the reaping. Two words. Verum and yes. Verum...that's Latin, is it not?"
Nikolai nods.
"You know Latin?" Caesar shakes his head, astounded. "They speak Latin in Nine, do they?"
The boy hesitates before shaking his head.
"Just you? Yes? Well, give us a demonstration."
Nikolai's eyes widen. Caesar expected him to talk. In front of everyone. Everyone alive would be hearing his words. Everyone. Nikolai could make do in the arena, maybe, but not here.
"Say something in Latin," Caesar encourages.
"Salve," Nikolai mutters.
"Louder, please?"
"Salve," Nikolai repeats, louder this time.
"Which means..."
"Hello." Five words now. Five. The boy's heart pounds.
"How did you learn it?"
"Library. Latin books." Eight.
"Wow, you must be really intelligent," Caesar comments. "That'll certainly be of use in the arena. Speaking of the arena...do you think you will win?"
Nikolai shrugs. He knows the odds aren't in his favor, but he is intelligent. And while he isn't a killer, he is a fighter.
"Well, I wish you luck in the arena," Caesar says. "May the odds be ever in your favor."
Even by a Capitolite's standards, Emmer Cassel is dressed oddly. He wears a slightly disfigured suit harboring every color of the rainbow, and a three-stalked yellow hat is mounted on his head. He wears a silly smile, and before taking his seat, he strikes a pose.
Needless to say, the Capitol loves him immediately.
"Hello," Emmer whispers dramatically.
Caesar shoots the crowd a nervous look, earning him several chuckles. "Uh, hello, Emmer. How are you tonight?"
The eleven-year-old pushes an invisible pair of glasses up his nose and squints around the hall. "The people here look an awful lot like the people at home."
"Do they?"
"I never said that. I've never seen anything like them before. The people of outer space are way weirder. I've adopted their fashion sense."
"Oh, I see." Somehow, Caesar keeps a straight face. "So, you live in outer space?"
"Yeah," Emmer says. "Then one day a spaceship came to our planet. It was from a secret group living in Panem! It took me to District Nine when I was a baby, and I've lived there ever since."
"I see," Caesar says. "So, do you have any memories from this...planet?"
"Yeah!"
"Like what?"
"Um..." Emmer frowns. "Well, there wasn't lots of gravity, so we were floating a lot of the time."
"That must have been fun."
"It was! I felt like a...what's it called? Like a balloon." Emmer grins. "Coming to Earth was hard. There was more gravity, and I couldn't fly."
"You could fly on your planet?"
"Of course I could. There wasn't much gravity, remember?"
"I remember," Caesar promises. "Tell us more about your childhood, Emmer. District Nine. Your family."
"Okay," the boy says enthusiastically. "I'm a clone of my grandfather. He was going to die really soon, and my mother wanted to preserve him. In me! So, yeah, I was brought to Earth. They wiped my memory so I couldn't tell people about - uh, I mean, they tried to wipe my memory, but you can't wipe an alien's memory, so I still remember everything!"
"Nice," Caesar comments. "So, tell us more about your family, Emmer."
"My parents run a tavern in the town," Emmer says. "I help out there a lot. Sometimes I steal some of the food! Uh, I didn't say that. My secret alien powers allow me to conjure food from the air! I supply the tavern."
"Any siblings?"
"Yeah. Farina. She's five. I removed all of our slips from the bowl, hers and mine, but as an alien I have enemies, right? One of them put my name in the bowl. Again!"
"Do you see all of the other tributes as your enemies?"
"Maaaybe." Emmer winks. "I'm allying with Kaila and the littles. Everyone else is an evil enemy to aliens, though, and they want me dead."
"Oh, you're joining Kaila's group?"
"Yeah!"
"So, are you looking forward to the start of the Games tomorrow?" Caesar inquires.
"Of course I am," Emmer says. "I can't wait. An alien has never won before. I will be the first."
A/N: This would have been posted a few hours, but when I was working on Emmer's POV, it didn't save properly, and it disappeared along with part of Nikolai's. I hope nothing else disappeared. Please tell me if you notice a gap.
So, the POVs are getting shorter. Hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter out next week. Only two districts left, and then we have the bloodbath!
So, who was your favorite tribute?
Least favorite?
Most likely to die in the bloodbath?
Most likely to win?
Thanks for reading! I would love it if you reviewed. The rates have been declining lately. Reviews make my day, and I'm really curious as to what everyone thinks of the different tributes. Thanks!
-Skye
