Games 64

Forewarned is forearmed, but the Games were meant to shatter the Districts' strength and mentors were on the front line. Strict timetables Mercury could follow and lies she could weave with a smile, but the victor couldn't accept the deaths of those unfortunate children as inevitable tragedy. Poor Dante had taken the habit of carrying handkerchiefs whenever he visited her alone in the evenings.

She'd managed to keep a pleasant and professional attitude during all the pre-arena drama, which was simply a flattering euphemism for acting distant and cold, but Mercury had found it a better alternative than breaking up in the arms of the girl she was supposed to mentor. At least Pixelle had listened to her advice. For all the good it had done her.

The district One tribute had been an oddity: an energetic fifteen year old. He'd seemed a bit dotty, always muttering to himself. An eight in training despite all his cockiness, nothing remarkable. He was the only Career to survive the bloodbath, having defied every unspoken rule by turning on his unsuspecting allies before they were even out of the Cornucopia. Nothing had fazed him. He'd single-handedly ended the Games in four days, scoring nineteen kills, a record for his District.

Who was Draupnir, beneath the angle and the thirst for survival and glory? Beneath the training and relentlessness? Mercury now understood why the others had been so distant at first. All the victors treaded on thin ice with the Capitol, even more now that Snow was on a crusade against potential rebels. Winning the Games didn't make one trustworthy in the other victors' eyes.

Pixelle had been sixteen, a very diffident girl, rather uneducated by Three's standards. She'd run away from home for years, because her parents just 'didn't understand her'. She'd been loud and hardworking, moody and passionate, street-smart and glib. Mercury had tried.

And failed.

Had she truly tried?

The black-haired young woman sighed, walking up to Beetee-Volts who was immersed in transistor models.

She paused to stare at his large glasses, as she often did of late. It would cost Volts nothing to get his eyes fixed. It struck her as oddly endearing that he would choose this particular sign to distance himself from the Capitol and their artificial perfection.

"Did I try," she finally asked. She'd stopped being wary of interrupting him; Volts had to be the most patient man she knew. He lifted his hooded eyes to hers.

"We put our own sanity first, always. Getting attached won't significantly affect their odds and it will shatter you. You're a brilliant actress, Pixelle never suspected that you doubted her chances. You obtained more sponsors than I had expected."

Especially since I refused to do more than talk to any of them. But thanks, I think.

She'd rather think that she hadn't tried: in a perverse way it let her hope that if she truly wanted to save a particular tribute she wouldn't be condemned to see them die.

A pixie cut of the darkest brown, nails bitten to the bone, narrowed almond eyes, a hand purposefully set on a skinny hip and a diffident voice that was surprisingly deep for such a wisp of a girl. Pixelle's image was painfully clear in Mercury's mind.

"Do they blur, over time?"

"They do eventually, but the feelings won't."

Mercury pressed her forehead against the cool window. She was glad Aster hadn't insisted to come despite the void his absence caused. She didn't want their relationship tainted by the foul Capitol atmosphere. It was Volts' turn again, since the times he came with Wiress as a 'volunteer' didn't count. Besides, some days she was such a wreck that she was glad her lover was spared the sorry sight.

She could've obtained Pixelle medicine had she accepted Lupus' disgusting offer. She had refused. Medicine would have delayed the girl's death, not granted her victory.

How could you possibly tell? The pesky voice in her mind asked.

"Did you sleep with anyone, to sponsor me?" She asked Volts, no amount of make-up able to mask her wariness.

The bespectacled victor smiled mirthlessly. "No. Victors reveal themselves. Whenever you feel like damning yourself to save a sweet tribute, just remember exactly what's in store for them after the Games. Your job is to make these children's last days bearable. Don't expect to save them. Just lie well."

Mercury let herself fall in an armchair. Never had she heard the aging man so cynical.

Ever day, she woke up thinking she knew, at least intellectually, what the day would bring. Every day she felt like she aged ten years. A sarcastic smile drew itself on her tired face. She didn't look so bad at all for someone was pushing a hundred and twenty.

She wasn't so much in fashion anymore. The green, blue and red wigs had left place to a sea of gold, bronze and silver and she had been downgraded from cool to a mere piece of the victor landscape. Her 'deal' with Blueblood protected her from those who still hoped for spoils. Compared to the lingering guilt, the constant fear of displeasing the President, the heaviness in her chest at the thought of Pixelle and the perfectionist Orion, her spurned suitors' petty attempts at intimidation were laughable.

A familiar voice brought her back to reality. "How are the dorks going?"

"Knock before entering, Enobaria. I could've been having wild sex on the table to forget my two late district co-inhabitants' death."

The older victor grinned at Volts' pointed cough. The man was flushed from sudden embarrassment.

"Getting drunk works too. Want a glass? Brutus is grating on my nerves, cursing District One every bloody minute of the day for having spawned three victors in half a decade. Besides," Enobaria added with a smirk, "if you're frustrated by the lack of willing older men around, I can find you some quite easily."

"Just a couple of drinks, Tiger." Mercury granted. At least she could count on Enobaria to be more lively than the routinely depressed other mentors. Games' end was a terrible period to socialize, with everyone wondering why they kept on living. If they were lucid enough to think that was.

The picture of Zephyranth laughing on a horse, a seven year old in her arms, gave her the strength she needed to keep sober until the end.


Games 65

"You're gaping like a fool." Aster accused, sitting stiffly on the padded Coliseum bench.

"He's in so much trouble," his wide-eyed lover mouthed.

Finnick Odair, despite being only fourteen, was attractive. Much too attractive.

The bronze haired tribute from Four was what artists attempted to depict when they thought of beauty and failed at, let down by their limited imaginations. He was like the sun, so resplendent that even the brightest stars vanished in his presence.

He had won the Games by the time the Chariot rides were over.

Mercury's eyes filled with tears. How she could possibly brighten her own ward's last days after this? She slowly straightened, clasping Aster's hand, aware his forbidding demeanor did not lessen his torment. The man found it easier not to bond with the tributes, but herding a stranger instead of an acquaintance to death barely lessened the sordidness of their predicament.

Indeed, the rest was a mere unpleasant formality. Outrageous sponsor gifts followed lucky coincidences. To Finnick's considerable skills was combined the cooperation of the arena. Seneca Crane was smooth about it, but the end was predictable: what the Capitol wanted the Capitol got.

"Don't."

Mercury's eyes shot up to Aster. Enobaria had helped her to cope when she'd woken up. Finnick was so young and not exactly a Career in spirit. She'd wanted to repay the service.

"He'll be the Capitol's favorite for a long while, Mercury." The man elaborated, dark shadows clouding his expression.

Stay away from the cameras; they'll be all turned to Finnick now. Don't give Snow any incentive to ruin your life further.

Mags was a kind and strong woman. Mags would help him.

Mercury inwardly wept for Finnick Odair.

Aster protectively cradled the twenty-year-old in his arms, a fierce light in his dark eyes, as if he could scare all her demons away.


Games 71

Johanna Mason.

The first non-Career to win since Mercury. Wader from Six didn't really count. He'd docilely let the Hovercraft pick him up and then somehow taken control of the machine and crashed it in the Capitol.

It had all happened in less than fifteen minutes. Cassandra Choire had died, along with thirty other Capitolites. Another Gamemaker had been crippled, Antonio something, a good acquaintance of Dante's. The two replacements were Plutarch Heavensbee and Laocoon Choire, a nephew. Probably two doormats who'd been carefully selected by Snow.

Despite Snow denying District Six the customary banquet after this, year 69 raised a greater cheer in the Districts than any Games had in decades.

Daphne and Nerval had paid for the 'accident' with their lives. Through another accident of course, in another exploded hovercraft. Snow had sent a squad of peacekeepers in Six to monitor the production, blaming it all on laziness and faulty machinery. The Capitol had mourned both poor Wader and the older victors and predictably cursed District Six's sloppiness. Only two gray-haired addicts now remained to wear the transport district's crest.

Mercury remembered the speech Snow had given her on forest fires the first time he'd summoned her. Wader had been a spark that hadn't made a fire. Nothing had changed. If anything it was worse. Wader had made Capitolites more tolerant of leaked stories of peacekeeper brutality. She hoped Snow would overdo it, make the increasing oppression so unbearable people would rebel openly, massively, but it was only wishful thinking.

So it all came back to Johanna Mason, who'd laid low before revealing how determined and strong she could be towards the end of the Games, stunning both the Capitol and the Districts. And this time, Aster didn't object to Mercury going to see her despite a pointed resigned glare.

"Hello," She said, keeping her voice neutral as she walked uninvited in the room where the younger girl lay resting.

"I'm supposed to know you, right?"

"Mercury, 63rd Games, District 3."

"Delighted," the girl said, sounding anything but. "Why are you here? Blight is making a huge deal about me resting more."

There was an unmistakable edge to her voice.

District Seven tended to produce more outspoken people than the other regions and Johanna seemed no exception to the rule. Mercury decided that while she'd failed to get another one of her girls home, she'd help Johanna out as much as she could.

"He should. But getting your thoughts together is more important. Remember you are in the Capitol, just like before. They want interviews and compliments."

Johanna seemed torn between snorting, sighting and burying her head in her pillow.

"They'll eat up anything anyway now," She whispered.

"The Capitol doesn't run itself. There are driven people who keep it going as it is and know what they're doing."

Johanna frowned. "What are you talking about and why are you here anyway?"

"You've only seen the people that were close to you. They feel for you, they've stopped preparing you because they hate to ruin whatever feeling of relief you're feeling now. Being a victor doesn't give you the right to take any liberties with the Capitol."

Johanna's face twisted in disgust. "Relief?" She took a deep calming breath. "Blight already told me sponsors are annoyed they lost money because they thought I was a wimp," she said sharply, obviously fed up.

Mercury was at a loss of how to be clearer without getting Finder or Grace killed.

"You were a wimp." She slowly said. "You found your courage when you remembered how much an honor winning was and how all your dreams would come true if you won. You never pretended."

Johanna's jaw dropped slightly. "Is part of the pay coming up with such crap?"

Mercury lowered her eyes in sadness and frustration, remembering when she'd been in such a situation. She'd been so much more prepared and yet she remembered the weariness, the wish to believe it was all over, the wish to be herself once more.

"Don't learn the hard way." She begged Johanna, wringing her hands.

"They made me win this, what can they do more?" the girl shot back bitterly.

A sharp knock put an abrupt end to their conversation.

"Mercury, follow me."

The victor stood frozen as Snow's small frame blocked the doorway. The old man had a frightening expression in his eyes.

Somehow she found the will to move. He led her into a small room.

"Mercury, humor me, what would you say if you wanted to be insolent now?"

Mercury's jaw tightened in fear. What the hell?

Her mind whirling, she colored her face with wide-eyed awe. "Mr. President, what an honor for you to come and get me directly so far from your office!"

"And that's why even I don't feel the need to torment you or your victor friends from Three too much, Girl. You know the rules. It saves me time. I don't care what you truly think because your kind doesn't act. Johanna's does. I won't have her lying to me."

Snow's eyes turned ice-cold. "And I most certainly won't have you helping her to. If I see you talk to her again this year, I'll buy you myself. "

"Crystal clear, Mr. President," Mercury whispered, not meeting his eyes. She was standing between him and the door; it would be so easy to snap the man's neck. She'd probably pay for it with her life but the new President would certainly be more humane.

Certainly. Or not so much. Snow was right, her kind didn't act. Bile burned her throat.

"Mercury?" Aster's voice betrayed his concern as she returned to their quarters.

"It's no fun if Johanna is told to behave; Snow personally came to deliver the message."

Aster's eyes grew hooded. "Hug?" he said after a pause.

Mercury's lips twitched as her arms went around the man's thin frame.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. She hoped Johanna would be wise enough not to anger Snow.


Games 72

Next year she would be her tenth as a victor; next year Wiress would finally mentor again. Mercury let the thought soothe her as she led the couple of twelve-year-olds in the train, her face blank as she steadied them.

A couple of twelve-year-olds, one of them Beetee's great niece. The sixth time in eight years that a victor's relative had been reaped. It was a new fashion, legacy tributes. Mercury didn't even let herself wonder about having children of her own.

Eight. The oldest of Cecelia's three children was just eight, Mercury reminded herself, her eyes pools of ice as an ashen Beetee crushed her hand for support. Anyone with a shred of motherly instinct would be attracted to the shy woman like moths to firelight. Yet, fragile as she seemed, only she had willingly given birth to a child among the younger generation of victors, Career and outlier alike.

There were more discrete statistical oddities: richer children, the friend of a victor, one child from the orphanage the year she'd made it clear she'd not disrobe to obtain sponsors, loud mouthed youths, people who had too good contacts with peacekeepers…. Like that crafty little boy by her side who'd been getting them electronic goods at lower prices.

Snow's meddling, it had to be. The Capitol loved their legacy tributes so. Even Dante, always his theatric self, shook his head in pained disbelief as soon as the children were out of sight.

Of all these too conveniently reaped tributes, only Finnick's childhood sweetheart and now fiancée, Annie, had survived. Mercury doubted that the arena would ever had been flooded had Annie not been so obviously traumatized. Killing victors was one of the few things Snow was reluctant to do, but a tale of 'poor, confused Annie's suicide' would be believed by the Capitol, something Finnick knew very well. It made the bronze-haired Adonis wary of using his status of 'most popular victor ever' to try anything Snow might disapprove of.

Mercury couldn't help feeling uneasy around Finnick. He had a lover's smile for each of his entranced clients and had made a shield of his glorious body, a shield to save his kin. But it had become more than just providing sex when he was bought. With each passing year, his every step, his every glance, was that of a charmer. The Capitol had rewrought him, perfected him to their tastes. Finnick was luminous, caring and clever, but he was not from the Districts anymore. Now that Mags' stroke had forced the woman to stop mentoring, only when he spoke of Annie did a glimpse of the seas returned to dance in his seducing green eyes.

Johanna opened the door of Three's train compartment, taking rapid strides. She then stopped before Mercury, her face a blank mask.

It was the first time the two victors met since the previous year.

Johanna's hand collided with Mercury's cheek. Hard.

"Missed you too," a shocked Mercury said, raising a hand to her cheek. At least the tributes were in the other room.

"You could've been clearer!" Johanna hissed, her brown eyes windows to the torments of hell.

"You know that's not true," Mercury replied in soft tones, her body stiff with stress, begging to retaliate against the threatening younger victor.

A second ringing slap connected with her reddening cheek.

Mercury felt a perverse pride in realizing that she was not the traumatized girl who had risked strangling Finder when he'd unexpectedly grasped her chin anymore. If some wounds could slowly heal, maybe she would one day be free of the anxiety constantly clawing at her heart.

She grimly hoped that in time Johanna would understand what an edge her lack of loved ones gave her instead of falling into depression or addiction.

So many lives destroyed.

"Ladies, please!" Dante exclaimed, looking appalled.

With a snarl, Johanna launched herself on the old Capitolite.

Mercury had her on the train's floor before the other victor could injure him, or herself.

Her voice was harsher than she had intended. "You're angry at me because it's easy. I don't care how you cope but don't take it out on him."

"Get off!"

Mercury allowed a scowling Johanna up. She could almost hear the young woman making a mental vow to learn hand-to-hand combat techniques.

"I don't want to be here! Luckily my tribute is such a pain that I'm hesitating to throttle her myself."

The mix of sarcasm and pain made Mercury wince in sympathy. She felt even more at a loss when Johanna started crying in her arms.

"Get Finnick." Mercury mouthed to Dante. The handsome tribute had been the only one who had seemed to really get through to Johanna the year before.

The white-haired escort hurried away.

"You're strong, you won't let them win, ever." She whispered into the girl's ear.

There was a frightening hardness to Johanna's promise. "Ever."

It was the last time she saw Johanna cry without drugs. Snow had gone too far, he had no leverage left over the cornered animal he had created.

Alone again, Mercury stared out of the window.

"That's not what the ads try to sell us."

Mercury cocked an eyebrow at the talking plush armed-chair. There was a suspicious bump under the cushion now that she paid attention.

"Talos?" She guessed, feeling suddenly weary.

The cushion popped out to reveal the short twelve-year old. With a muscled frame and tan skin, the clever lad came from a family of factory workers and was studying his way to the top. Had been.

"You little monkey!" she said with a forced grin, hiding her sadness.

Something about him reminded her of Drake. Her eyes were far away as she made him sit next to her.

"I want to have fun." He said, serious as an imp-faced child could be. "She didn't look like she was having fun at all, and she's a victor."

Mercury paused.

"Well… don't annoy the Capitol. But otherwise, having fun might be the wisest course to take."

"Sure, it's not like I have many talents anyway." He said, not looking so upset at the thought.

He'd maybe even have some 'fun'. He was too young to know what it meant to let yourself die when you had the choice between that and a half-damned life. There was a huge difference between those under fifteen and the older tributes. The former were much more adaptable and cheerful as a rule, they took it in stride and felt invincible, at least in the beginning.

And Mercury would have to let him.

Her insides churned, no matter the sense of déjà-vu that accompanied her each year.

"Please get me Dante and come back in an hour; I have calls to make to the Capitol," she lied. "Cheer up Kismet if you can."

Talos' family was interviewed. Mercury sent him an extra blanked, a pike and a balm against cramps, all while making sure Volts didn't do anything destructive in the attempt to ease the pain of his great-niece's passing. Something cruel and bloodthirsty had birthed that year in the man, a lurking darkness that flashed in his dull eyes whenever they landed on Capitol children.

Talos played tricks and did the craziest things like pissing off the highest tower of the haunted medieval castle arena with his new friend from Seven. A sizable portion of the teenager population of the Capitol had found him hilarious. He was now begging for his life in a dark dungeon, threatened by Enobaria's protégé.

"Can't she be a little less theatrical and get on with it?" Mercury asked her friend bitterly.

"Phoenix is ugly as sin; she needs to make up for it." There was no smugness in Enobaria's voice but no apology either.

Ugly as sin was harsh, but the redhead was indeed homely enough buyers would be ashamed of admitting they'd wanted her. Not such a bad thing either. Mercury took a deep breath. Talos was as good as dead. "How much more do you need to give Phoenix good gloves or medicine? Her hands are falling apart."

Enobaria's eyes grew wide with surprise before showing her the figures on the computer screen. The gloves were just out of her reach. It was often like that towards the end of the Games, since Snow and the Gamemakers had access to the money owned by each mentor. The frustration of being so close to the sum you needed was just an added bonus.

"We have that. I'll wire it to you."

"That's not done, Mercury."

Mercury rolled her eyes. It was actually, but not among Careers. She'd learned to grab the little chances she had at doing good or at least making her friends happy. The look on Enobaria's face was priceless, the muscled woman seemed almost lost.

Mercury forced a smile as she turned the money over, money that would be lost as soon as Talos' cannon sounded.

It did ten long and painful minutes later.

Phoenix won the next day, with gloves on her hands. Enobaria was beaming like she rarely did.

"She's my childhood best friend's daughter. Eryn and I were inseparable until she dropped out of training," She said a few days later, as their respective trains were to leave.

Mercury frowned. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Surely that was not the kind of confidential information that had to be divulged in the middle of a noisy train station.

"You know I hate them. Lyme, Bahamut, Barnabas, Seif, we all do. We all made sacrifices during our training only to realize once we had finally won that we'd been played. Even Brutus does in his way, but it's too deeply buried. That's why the Games remain for him the best days of his life. Phoenix was third in line to volunteer; the other two had unfortunate accidents, Regina Lidessi will limp forever. Snow dislikes how loyal the local peacekeepers are to us."

A hard smile creased Enobaria's face. "Things are changing in Two. The weapons manufacturers have rarely been so hassled or the peacekeepers kept on such a tight leash."

It was time to go home. Mercury hugged her old friend, a smile dancing on her lips as she processed that welcome tidbit of information. Little cracks in the Capitol's iron control. Little cracks that she suspected were slowly getting bigger.


Winter 73

Mercury's eyes were tight in horror as she walked between the tall spires.

What was this place? What had Snow done to her District?

With every passing year, Three grew visibly poorer. For the first time, Mercury saw coat-less children walking the snowy streets at a leisurely pace, trying hard not to look like they were begging, in case a peacekeeper caught them.

Gone were the colored electric lights brightening the dull winter days. The spires cast dark shadows on the streets, like looming swords hovering menacingly over people's exposed neck.

Three's workings had always been opaque to the Capitol. Their overlords could not control the information transit, not when it was so specialized. Snow had finally figured out that any crafty researcher could pass off Taser plans for electric toothbrush ones without much difficulty, so he had created filters. The President built a control base in Two and sent 'trusted' personnel from Three to teach a select few peacekeepers the basis of electronics, telecommunications and informatics, and made it clear the latter would be deported as avoxes if anything went past them.

These peacekeepers were mediocre at best. They never found a thing, not when experts assembled those files, but everything had to transit through them. Productivity was slowed as new designs took months just to get the Capitol's stamp of approval, research was crippled. Unemployment soared as the industries shut whole wings for the first time since The Uprising.

Mercury's heart clenched. Children begging in the streets, in her city.

Snow was right: Three had a much greater potential for rebellion than almost all the other districts for the Capitol didn't understand their weapons.

Your kind doesn't act.

Snow was wrong: cornered, they would bite, and bite hard.

The teenagers had all signed up for a couple of slips of tesserae, every single teenager, the richer ones giving the supplies to their poorer acquaintances. As long as the whole district took the same amount of tesserae, the chances of being reaped were the same as if none did.

Three was on the brink of rebellion, they just needed a spark.

On impulse, Mercury gestured at one of the loitering children, a small smile gracing her lips.

"I'm going down to buy those luxury motorcycles Data sells. I don't want a scratch on it, and I want it now. Why don't you round up twenty people to carry it for me? It's heavy, you'll be taking turns. I'll compensate you of course."

The boy lit up like a light bulb and gave her a big toothy grin. "Right away, Ma'am. Thanks."

Aster eyed skeptically at her when he caught her in the garden, seated on the big wooden case and swinging her legs like an enthusiastic child.

"What on earth is that?"

Mercury crossed her legs seductively. "I always wanted to date a biker."

Aster's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

He let his eyes trail on her legs appreciatively before smirking at her. "How fast is it?"

"It's Data's." she said with a wink.

Her lover's smirk broadened. "Let's try it, Woman."

Mercury's eyes glittered at his enthusiasm. "Do you even know how to drive it?"

"Actually, yes." Aster said with superior expression. "I did have a life before we met."

Her lips bloomed into a grin. "Bring it on then!"


Games 74

"I don't think we've ever watched the Games together at home." Mercury said pensively as she leaned against Aster's chest.

"Of all the domestic activities we could enjoy…." the man replied with an aggravated sight.

The reaping live broadcast was about to begin.

Mercury kissed him, her eyes dancing. For the first time in ten years, neither of them would be mentoring and that made her insanely happy.

"Let's hope it's not someone we know." Aster muttered.

"Be positive, for once in your life?"

"That wildcard was used when I didn't summon a peacekeeper to keep you out of my house the first time you poked your curious little nose in."

Mercury smiled "Fair enough. I'm still waiting for that marriage proposal."

"The day we will have some power over the promises we make." The man said, a rare solemnity in his voice. "I love you."

It had taken some doing to persuade the technicians to make the air conditioning system as loud as possible so they could whisper unheard.

"Love you too, Aster." Mercury said with a grin.

She knew there were also deeper reasons, scars that might never heal, but she had faith in their mutual love. She nested herself comfortably in his embrace.

She had kept only loose contact with Finder and Grace. It was difficult to keep distant even after all these years, but the safest choice. She spend most of her days between the orphanage and Aster. The orphans all called her Ma'am now, most of them too young to remember Fiddle.

Less than two weeks later, Aster had to repress guffaws as Seneca Crane announced two winners: the couple from Twelve.

"It's so not funny," Mercury said, a hand over her mouth.

Inwardly she was howling with laughter. Snow had been one-upped by a clever sixteen year old with nightlock.

They sobered quickly enough. Snow didn't have to be angry to destroy people's lives. Katniss and Peeta had angered him like few could boast of.

But never had a victor, victors, she amended, fascinated the Capitol for such noble reasons. It had always been superficial, like Finnick's looks, or unsavory, like Brutus' blood-lust. Now it was all about sacrifice, family and love.

Another spark.

Mercury dared let herself hope.


Please review, just two more chapters to go before the inevitable end of this book.