Ah, confused stares. But notice how the story has not been marked as Complete.
Think of this as part Three, my friends. Reapings+Games+This Bit.
Enjoy.
"So, Drale Shetler, how does it feel to be the Victor of the 100th Hunger Games?" The teens crowded around the small television, examining the boy who was decided to win the Hunger Games. All was over, grievences put to rest, six feet under.
But four extra hearts still beat, thought Allie. Four hearts that should have stopped cold.
Little did she know that it was actually six.
The murmur of the private plain kept a stimulating sound that nagged at Allie's mind. Some of what happened was actually described to them. That they were in fact reaped for suspicions of being rebels. For having hearts that deserve to die, for being against the Capitol. That rebels saved them, when Kellen Mellark was supposed to win. That the Capitol had meant to bury them all alive and just kill everyone except Drale, who happened to jump out of the way. Apparently, he was quite the fan favorite.
Allie felt even more of a burning hate for those people. They killed her mother. And all that time, she slightly blamed her sister. A cringe creased her face as she realized what she had just thought. No, you've never blamed Scarlett for Mom dying. It was just an accident.
Well, until now, it was.
Her blue eyes flickered back up at the screen. The scenes of the arena flashed, but most of it was centered around Drale, and a lot of Robyn.
The supposed dead girl watched it curiously, from the first night she fell on him. Her sarcasm was a common topic of conversation throughout Caesar Flickerman's comments. Drale simply shrugged.
"She's like that." His eyes casted downwards. "At least was." Robyn's gut twisted.
"I'm still alive, cow head!" Her fist slammed against the screen and the force was hard enough to break it. The others glared fiercly at the girl who just crawled away on the fancy fur carpet.
One of the doors finally swung open and the group's mouths all dropped open.
"Gamemaker Fulton?" The brown eyed, brown haired girl waved, a slight smile on her face. It didn't reach her eyes though.
"No worries, I'm on your side." The first thing to be noticed was her accent, or lack of, any way. Robyn's heard the familiar tone often the past week. "Please, don't bum rush and kill me."
They all stared with dark expressions, glancing nervously at the rebels who stepped on either side of her. She sighed wearily, waving them away.
"Trust me, nothing you say will make me feel any worse than I already do." Crouching to the floor, she slid onto her bottom, crossing pale arms across her. She seems like the kind who would tan, though. Must not have seen much sunlight lately.
"You killed my district partner," Robyn stated blankly.
"And mine," Dorian added with a bitter, disgusted frown.
"I honestly can't say anything," Westria shrugged. "Respect you, a bit." Their ears started popping again, noting their descent.
Fulton shrugged. "Uh, sorry. Wow, I sound like an ass." The Gamemaker pulled in her knees, resting her chin on them.
"Asshat," the 'dead' tributes stated in unison. The woman sighed again.
"What the hell am I supposed to say?"
"Why you did it," Dorian suggested. "Why you agree to be one of them."
Westria nodded. "Really, and what's with the accent, Fulton?"
The Head Gamemaker shuttered. "Please, do not call me that. I go by Van, if anything. This point on, you know me as Evangeline. Not Margaret."
"So, what are you originally from Ten?" Robyn asked. "Wouldn't blame you for trying to cover up that accent."
Van shrugged. "Evangeline Ride is from District Ten. Margaret Fulton was from the Capitol." She held up a finger towards Dorian to stop is flow of questions. "When I was about twelve, actually a week after my birthday, I ran away from home. Had an insane father and a mother who refused to leave him. At the time, my mom was pregnant. This fact made me extra anxious for us to leave, us being her, my brother and I. One evening, my dad had failed to make the quota at work so quit and came back, all happy dandy.
"I made an ultimatum for my mom; leave him, or I go. And she chose him
"That evening, I packed up what I could easily carry. Kissed Theo, my brother, goodnight, and snuck into my Mother's room while was sleeping to wish my unborn sibling goodnight. And so I took to the outer gates, managing to hop the fence and run, never to look back."
A long pause was enough for Dorian to hop in. "You're related to Tanya?" Everyone raised an eyebrow at the boy, but Van simply nodded.
"Pretty much. Her older sister, if you please. Traveling long enough, I came across another runaway. Margaret Fulton, who had come all the way from the Capitol. She...was a kindred spirit. If she were alive today, she'd probably be nothing like what the reputation her name has today. Probably a little quirky upon Capitol standards. Maybe even a stylist." Van stared off into the distance, smiling at some old, forgotten memory.
"It was late December, one of the coldest winters in history. I had even a worse time with it, being from Ten and all. I had some thick skin to the elements, though, unlike Margaret who chattered and trembled like a leaf."
"What happened to you?" Allie asked, eyes wide. Van breathed out her nose, the memories bring negative emotions back.
"Her parents had hired some very high up bounty hunter sorts. Of course they found her, me as well. They decided to take me back too. But Margaret was weak, and even with the medics and nurse maids of the estate back at her home, she still couldn't make it.
"Both her parents were distraught with grief. I barely survived myself. And her parents, being raised in the Capitol state of mind, simply thought to replace her. Insert me. Change the name. We even looked alike. Same brown eyes."
Van shook her head, laughing. "Same brown eyes."
-0-
Drale Shetler
I watched the recaps, relaxing into the chair. The edges of my nerves, though, stayed rigid, anxiously watching the crowd around me. Meat seemed to be having a jolly time, having actually had a tribute to win. His money had been on Tanya the whole time, but he got someone out of the deal.
Then it came; how all this ended. I watched and my eyes widened at it all. The fog coming through. Robyn slicing off Trey's head. And then a hole that opened up. I was able to leap out of the way but Robyn stumbled through, flames leaping up. I cringed. Hopefully she died quickly.
I stood there, standing eye to eye with Westria. Since when did I do that?
With a slack jaw, I watched myself fight her off with only a sickle and short dagger. Me on the screen sliced her features off, before spinning around and slitting the throats of the other two remaining tributes, who didn't even fight.
I didn't kill them. I didn't kill any one.
The Capitol was hiding something.
Caesar just smiled at me, clueless to my thoughts. "You know, we have some questions that everyone would like to know. I mean, everyone is dying to know the feelings behind that spectacular kiss between you and Robyn Achene. Did you two-"
"Um, no, we were just friends."
Caesar nudged me playfully, and I just shifted away. "Wasn't pretty enough for our future Victor, right?"
"Well, uh, I wouldn't say I thought she was bad looking..."
"So you will admit that you felt attracted towards her?"
"No, but-"
"I mean, that kiss looked pretty convincing. Did you enjoy it?" I all but decked that guy in the face. Okay, Robyn admitedly was cute, and she did have a good character, funny personality, and an awesome kisser-
Okay, I'm losing it. The Games is getting to my head. Try going to sleep at night without the thought of maybe getting your throat slit. Or some other terrible thing. Robyn will always be a friend to me. If it could have gone any where, I would never know. Robyn and I just seemed too different.
"So?" Caesar asked expectantly.
I shook my head, standing. "Why does it matter? She's fucking dead." I plucked the microphone from my collar, tossing it at the interviewer.
I shoved by the Peacekeepers, backstage. No one stopped me.
Who would injure they're prescious little Victor?
I'm watching this show Beyond Scared Straight. And this girl, 13, smoking weed, drinking, and having sex. Thirteen years old, and partying.
What the hell?