"Pay attention!"
Glimmer trembled momentarily as the collar of her shirt buzzed, signaling a killing blow. One of the Capitol's nasty little technological developments from District Three, this year each of the Victors was equipped with a sensor in their outfits which interacted electronically with the handles of the weapons used by the trainers. As each of the tributes practiced their individual combats against Atala and her assistants, the Gamemakers (and select subscribers throughout the Capitol who had paid for the upgrade of course) would watch as the computer recorded hit ratios, measured quickness and dexterity as well as analyzed the tributes' overall ranking against each other using a standardized system of points.
Thus far, Brutus and Enobaria were in the lead. Glimmer so far was averaging around fifth and that was fine. That wasn't what had distracted her.
It was the fact Primrose was last, twenty-forth of twenty-four. Even the Morphling addict was quicker on the draw than the clumsy waif-girl from District Twelve.
Glimmer on the other hand had a fighting chance as she had been practicing for over a week now with swords, a weapon with which she had nearly equal proficiency with as the bladed mezzalunas she preferred. Without Cato there to call the shots perhaps she would have a hope of getting to at least one of the swords in the Cornucopia if Brutus or Gloss could keep the others busy long enough for her to get inside.
"Again" Atala's voice rang out over the hallway, dragging her from introspection.
This time Glimmer was the first to make contact, her sword moving easily as an extension of her arm, the arc coming in quickly enough to actually make contact with Atala's third and fourth ribs as the defender came around to parry a millisecond too late. Glimmer smiled, satisfied with herself a moment too soon as she felt her left leg leave her. She slammed to the floor hard just as Atala's axe blade made contact with the collar, it's red LED light blinking brightly against Glimmer's vision.
A medtech rushed over within seconds, just as Cashmere realized she was helpless to stop the scene unfolding before her eyes in the observation box above the training floor. Her gaze raced over to where the Gamemakers had gathered on the other side, and her eyes met Seneca's.
He was just as concerned as she was. It was then Cash had the sick realization it was for the same reason.
XXX
"Will she be alright?"
"Everything's ok. Just a small concussion. With the medicines she'll be as good as new by Saturday" Lyme replied, her maternal voice strong and yet soothing at the same time.
Saturday. Cato cringed inside hearing the word. The first day of the Games.
Tomorrow was Wednesday and they would hold the interviews with Caesar. Then only two more days, perhaps three for a few of them, would remain in the lives of over half the Victors going into the Arena for the Quarter Quell. The remaining group would no doubt pair up and drag the deaths out for at least a grueling week or so before the Capitol would decide that ratings needed a boost and some new genetically modified horror would prowl the Arena for survivors and winnow it down to the eventual winner. If they could even be called such a thing by that point.
There was no honor in killing fellow Victors in his mind. Every one of them, even that drunkard from Twelve Haymitch, had fairly earned their respite from the Capitol and the merciless appetites of her citizens' thirst for bloody entertainment. Yet here there were all assembled as if they were newly reaped victims from the outer districts, the lot of them. A group that included the only person who Cato had ever come to love more than himself, even beyond what he had shared with Clove.
He paced around the perimeter of the District Two apartment, the stainless steel walls mirroring his grey mood perfectly. Not only was his young wife now pregnant again with a child by a man they both despised, she was fucking up in practice worrying about another little girl who had no importance in the grand scheme of things.
His mind wandered back to the day they'd killed Rue. No, his mind corrected, Clove killed Rue. You and Marvel just watched, bored if I remember correctly, while she squeezed out. Glimmer was the only one who really didn't seem comfortable with it.
Collateral damage the other half of his mind replied. You are a Career. Don't feel.
It was easier that way. For a fleeting instant, Cato wondered if Cashmere's green vials were still in her plum leather and diamond purse downstairs.
XXX
Later that night, Glimmer was excused from dinner with her mentors and Gloss; Seneca had sent two Peacekeepers to escort her to the penthouse above them and she went without complaint, resigned to her fate. She had grown introspective of late, and her mind warred between the fierce desire to protect Primrose and a very powerful survival instinct that was building, no doubt due to another flicker of life she knew was now clinging to hers. She reflected on her argument with Cashmere and Lyme as she dutifully followed the pair of officers leading her to the elevator. She rode in silence as her mind went back to their conversation.
It had begun with her waking up in the medical bays, deep in the underbelly of the Tribute Towers where they trained every day downstairs. From what she could gather, an hour or so had passed and Glimmer saw relief wash across the face of the doctor closest to her as she came to.
"What happened?" she asked groggily. The room seemed to jump from left to right in tune with the beating of her heart and it made her dizzy. She shook her head to clear the sight but without much luck.
"Stay still" the voice above her replied. "You're suffering from vertigo right now but we couldn't give you an injection until you came to. How many fingers?"
Glimmer squinted, trying to focus.
"If you stop waving them around, I could tell you" she quipped, managing a smile. The doctor was not amused however.
"How many?" he snapped.
"Three"
"Good. Elola, give her ten cc of phenegran."
"You're going to feel very cold for a few minutes. The feeling will pass. Sit up and stay here for at least another fifteen minutes. Once your vision is steady you can go. Do you have some one to take you back to your quarters to rest until tomorrow?"
"I'll take her" Cashmere replied. Glimmer noticed Lyme standing nearby as well.
"Very well then. Come back if the symptoms return but they should not if you take one of these pills every six hours for the next twenty-four. There should be no effects by the time you're in the Arena"
Awesome! Glimmer's mind retorted. I'll be all healed up….just in time to die! Yippee!
She bit her tongue. Snarky retorts probably weren't best saved for when she was getting loaded up with drugs from an IV. To be fair, to the doctor she was likely already dead anyway. How many other tributes had they tended the wounds of only to see them expire a few days later? She could see where the job seemed pointless.
True to his warning, the drugs were cold. Glimmer shivered uncontrollably as the anti-emetic wound its way through her system, shrinking neural connections and dulling others as it worked to fix the swelling in her brain. She struggled to sit up as it coursed through her, the blood in her veins like ice water.
Of course it would be then Cashmere wanted to start a conversation. Captive audience and all. Glimmer winced as she watched the doctor exit the room, the immense metal door sliding closed back into place behind him.
It was Lyme however who spoke first.
"I know what's bothering you and you have to let it go. One life is not worth the other, nor will it bring her back."
Glimmer stared mutely at the floor tiles. They were utilitarian but still beautiful in their own way, perfectly hexagonal and set in spiral patterns in shades of cream, beige and gold. She absently wondered how something so pretty came to be here in this place of death. What was the designer thinking? What again was the point.
Maybe that was what Cinna felt like, dressing these dolls that would die.
"You can't check out. If you do, you're no better than her mother was" Lyme continued. Glimmer looked up, her grassy eyes meeting Lyme's own sky-blue ones. Eyes which had seen four more decades than Glimmer had and had the wisdom behind it.
"I've got your attention. Good. Just listen then"
Glimmer looked over to where Cashmere was seated. Her expression was deadly serious. She glanced back to Lyme.
"Ok."
"That little girl's mother was a mental case. I've known Haymitch for at least twenty years Glimmer. There's a reason he's the town drunk. Katniss was the only one taking care of that child and now that she's dead no one does. But no matter how much you want it to, it's not going to bring Rue back."
She nodded mutely. Tell me something I don't know
Lyme continued, her voice barely a whisper in Glimmer's ear
"Maybe you haven't realized it, but there's something much bigger than you at stake here. Not just you or your unborn child. Do you realize if you survive this, and the districts learn what's really going on in the Capitol, that you may spark a rebellion?"
Glimmer's eyes met Lyme's again. An understanding began to return.
"If you want to help that poor child, at the very least, you need to be able to defend yourself before you worry about allying with her. Mind you, it's a waste of time Glim."
"Primrose has to die for you to live. The others do too. Brutus knows this. Gloss will come to realize it."
Glimmer felt a pang of horror realizing what this meant for Cashmere. She thought involuntarily of Marvel for a moment. An image of yellow flowers he gave her when she was six vanished as quickly as it came.
"YOU have to live for hope to be born."
Hope.
If I live, that will be her name.
And tonight, she would tell Seneca his daughter's name. He'd foolishly be pleased and happy and she'd pretend to be as well, performing the part she'd learned long ago that only the beautiful ones could truly play best. Only the name would mean something entirely different to him than to all the rest of Panem.
She could only hope.
XXX
Author's afternote: So sorry about the late update! I started a new full time job about 2 months ago just as I stopped writing. But this story needs to be told and finished, it has such a tremendous plot and many, many chapters of ideas left. So please be patient with me as I work in my spare time to finish it's telling. I can't abandon our heroes, there just aren't enough stories that give justice to the Careers of Panem and their own epic struggles and feelings so I decided to write my own saga. Even the worst of characters can have redemption in the wonderful world of fiction, that's what makes it so beautiful. I love reviews BTW! Thanks for sticking with me.