The astute reader will see that I've published more in the last week or so than I have in months. This has a twofold reason. One, my life has slowed down enough to a point where I can sit and write. While this is a good thing for my readers, this is not the best thing for my wallet. And two, I do want to get this story finished so I can get on through the next fourteen years (more or less) of Qwerty's life, or at least to the role she will play in the rebellion. As always (because I haven't put this disclaimer in) The Hunger Games, and some of the characters here do, and always will, belong to Suzanne Collins. I respect her work, and I will always credit her for making this wonderful world that I enjoy dipping my pen into from time to time. Qwerty Jobs, and most of the Jobs family, are my brain children though.

Chapter 36

Out of all of the districts I've visited thus far, I think I'm the most impressed by the show that District Two put on for their formal reception of me. The food was close to what I'd learned to expect in the capitol, and the music was more than a little catchy.

Several previous victors were there, though most of them wanted little to do with me. Brutus, however, seemed to follow my every movement through the hall. When he finally cornered me, I was more than taken aback by the sheer size of the man.

"Dance with me." He said in a low gruff tone. He wasn't making a request, but a demand. People parted as we made our way to the dance floor, but their faces were all blurred in my mind. Once we reached a spot, I turned to face him, but I was mindful to keep an eye on his large feet. Surprisingly, though, he was almost graceful, and light on his feet.

"If it wasn't for you, one of our own would be here tonight. We'd have another victor, and the rest of the district wouldn't be so angry." He said in a low tone as we moved.

"You say that like I had a choice in the matter. I didn't choose to go into the arena, but once I was in there, I chose to stay alive. What is the crime in that?" Brutus volunteered, and it was known that if he could go into the arena again that he would. In a heart beat. He was bloodthirsty, and he lived for the hunt. I knew that, with him, I needed to be a warrior, because that was what he would understand.

"The crime is you're not worthy of the title of Victor. You won by dumb luck!" He punctuated the last two words by shoving me away from him, and storming off of the dance floor. I just stared there, blankly in his wake. While I wasn't expecting a warm reception in District 2, I wasn't expecting something like that either.

I must have been frowning, because Lenora came up beside me and touched my cheek. "If you wrinkle prematurely, it'll undo all of the good work my team has done on you." That was almost blunt coming from my stylist. Almost. She was still so vapid, still so capitol. I do, somehow, manage to wipe the frown from my face and I move off of the dance floor.

Most of the other Victors have filed out of the hall at this point in time, save for Lyme and Scar. Tonight was as much for them, or so they thought, so they would stay until the end. A passing server has a tray of champagne, and I don't hesitate in plucking a glass from the tray. It is when I do this that I notice Scar looking my way. He lifted his own cup to me in a form of a salute. I lifted my own, and took a sip, trying to wash my encounter with Brutus away.

Hours passed, food was tasted, and my head was spinning as we made our way back to the train, for the trip to District 1.

"If you think this was something, you should see what District 1 has to offer!" Franz said as we stepped onto the train. "The luxury district. I can't wait to see what kind of jewels we'll see there!" I was still annoyed with him, but somewhere, I knew it wasn't his fault he was so delusional.

My mind was elsewhere, though. Because, after we finished in 1, we'd be back to the Capitol, and I'd be back with Snow. The very thought of it made my stomach churn. "I think I'm going to head to bed.." I said, and I turned to head into my room on the train.

Before I got there, Jordan was standing at my doorway. "I'm sorry.. I shouldn't have been so harsh with you.. D-... Scar, he and I spoke at the reception, and well, he told me some things that I really didn't want to hear, but I think now that they're things I needed to hear." He said, giving off a small smile towards me. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm not really..." I said honestly. How could I not after what had happened in the morning. "How could such a kind woman make someone as heartless as Thor?" That was where my mind had been most of the day, it seemed, and I wasn't really thinking about it going anywhere else any time soon. He'd been to cruel, and was still the primary subject of most of my nightmares.

"We can't really know for sure what someone is, or who they can be until we see them in a situation like the Games. It's a great equalizer, and it shows us, all of us, who really is strong." I'd never hear such blatant Capitol propaganda come out of Jordan before. I stood there, stunned for a moment, before I worked up the nerve to push past him, and into my compartment on the train.

"You sound like one of them." I said in a low tone as I moved to the dresser to find something to wear to bed.

"Like one of who?" Jordan asked, still standing in the doorway, staring at me with an incredulous and hurt look in his eyes.

"Like one of the Gamemakers. Like Claudius Templesmith when he's giving commentary on a brutal kill. Like someone from the Capitol who doesn't know any better, or what it's like for the rest of us who have to suffer through all of this." I'm in tears as I say this to him, but I'm surprised that I'm not screaming. I could scream. I could lay into him about how all of this is just wrong, but I got the feeling, in that moment, that it would be like trying to make a system configured with DOS try and work with hardware wired for the latest IOS. They wouldn't know how to properly communicate with one another.

"You think that I don't see it? That I don't understand what it's like for Victors?" He stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him. It took him three long steps to cross the room and grasp me by the upper arms so he was sure I was looking at him. "I watched my father, year after year struggle with what he did in the Arena. I watched as two teenagers every year sign up for what could be their death. I've seen their families watch with bated breath as their children are slaughtered. No one leaves that arena. Least of all the Victors."

"Wait... Your father?" I asked, my eyes pleading with him for some clarity on this.

"Scar... My father is Scar."

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