This is probably gonna be the last chapter for some time. I need to go for a run after this.
Please enjoy...
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X-X-Part 3-Chapter 19-X-X
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The moment he stepped off the train, peopled were cheering, hands were on him, training up and down his arms, some were on his chest on his back. Everywhere to be honest and he forced a very convincing smile at all of them, blowing kisses here and there, thanking them for their love. Inside, on the other hand —not that it mattered to any of them— he was cringing, he was revolting, he was dying. He'd hoped that Annabeth's proclamation that them two, were together and in love with one another would have been enough to stop all of these people from being so obsessed with him. He had been so wrong to hope such a thing.
He made a show of being upset when he had to enter the training center, and he had to leave them behind there door, but the truth was his smile quickly vanished the moment he was inside, instead replaced by a soft grimace. He was walking next to Elizabeth, the escort saying stuff about the new training center, about how this year, it was going to be so much different from what they had been used to. This was something else. He barely listened, but he was sure that Genevieve, on her other side, was actually paying attention.
Instead, he was looking around himself, searching for Annabeth, hoping that perhaps she was there somewhere, already here and he could detach from the two women, and run to her. Feel her again after so long. He really wished she had been, but of course, she wasn't. Instead, the tributes from twelve, Katniss and Peeta, he saw them, but it wasn't them that caught his attention, it was their mentor, Haymitch. He recalled from the night before, that it had been his name to be called, not Peeta's, but the younger Victor had volunteered for him. For the girl, he was sure.
Haymitch approached them, calling out his name with a: "Jackson, wait up!" as he left his escort, and his two tributes behind, watching him. He waved at them as a go sign 'to go ahead I won't be long'. He himself stopped walking and told both Elizabeth and Genevieve to keep on going. He had an idea of where the rooms for district five were going to be, fifth floor, like always.
He looked the old man, from the top to his feet, studying him. All he remembered of this guy, was that he had been a bloody drunk ninety percent of the time, only half sobering up when last year, he'd seen a chance for his tributes to win and he had taken it. He pulled his backpack a bit higher up on his one shoulder and looked at him questioningly. The man pulled back the curtain of blonde hair that had fallen across his face.
"Here," the man said, handing him an envelope. He looked down at it and recognized it, his blood ran cold because it was from Snow. And every other time it had been from Snow, it had been a certain appointment. He cursed inwardly, the first day back, he was on already. The male mentor from twelve looked at him with a bit of a smug smile. "Don't have too much fun. He wants to meet you first though, so be sure to open that quickly. I doubt he'll be happy if you're late."
He wanted to punch the mentor from twelve in the face, but he restrained himself. The lobby was full of peacekeepers, and if he threw a punch right here it would be seen, and the fight would be broken, and perhaps a couple of ribs broken with their sticks and then word would travel to Snow, and things would simply fall to be so much worse than they needed to be at the moment. So he didn't punch him in the face, simply imagined how it would feel to have his knuckles connect with his face, and then walked away.
Elizabeth and Genevieve had actually waited for him, in front of the elevator, so they went up together. He didn't tell them anything, but Elizabeth spoke. Oh hell, she spoke. "Okay, we are not off to a good start, guys," she said, her Capitol accent seemed to have pitched a little higher. Perhaps it was being back here that had that effect on her. "I swear to god. Percy, you look like you want to murder someone, and Genevieve, I have not heard a word out of you for the whole day." She stopped and looked at them individually. "Are you guys alright?"
The door of the elevator opened, and he walked past her. "Amazing," he said as he opened the door and then walked into their floor. "Could not be better, if you wish," he added sarcastically. "I mean we're in the Capitol, and isn't this the best place on earth? In a week I'll be in an arena, hunting to kill other murderers and look to erase evil from this nation. I feel so good right now." He ended it and then walked away, being sure to lock the door with the key when he entered.
The bed looked the most comfortable. He wanted to sleep, and there sure as hell was time for it. The chariot ride wasn't until a bunch of hours. They were early as hell. So he would have slept, but the envelope in his pocket felt heavy, so he pushed the bag off his shoulders, and then sat on the soft mattress of the bed, pulling out said envelope from his pocket.
He looked at the grey color, and then at the stamp. He said to hell with it and ripped it open. Pulled out the paper and then read what it said: 'I knew the design of the envelope would trigger you to be quick to open it. I also told Haymitch to make it sound like it was from Snow. Anyways, Snow did send an envelope for you to get, as he does want to meet you. I have it. Before you go to our beloved President, however, I would like to talk to you, in private about a very serious matter. Yours Truly, Plutarch Heavensbee, 75th Hunger Games Head Game Maker.'
There was a room name, in the tribute center, after that. He pushed the letter down. He wanted to kick something. What in the world, did the head game maker want with him? He wondered as he stood up and then ran his hands through his hair. He had heard of the new game maker. Apparently Seneca Crane had ended up dead, after his heart suddenly stopped, soon after the games the year prior. He, along with Annabeth, had agreed that Snow had killed him for the fiasco that he had allowed to happen. Two victors walking out alive. Two.
Now this Plutarch Heavensbee, was here to step up to fill in the gap. A hard thing to do, but there was something in his words that he didn't really understand. The easiness, he guessed it was. Amongst other things, why did he want to meet him?
Whatever the reason, the man had a message from Snow to him, and he needed to receive it and to receive it quickly. So, after asking Elizabeth for the exact time he would need to be back so that Dorian, his stylist, could get him ready, he was out of the apartment, and down the elevator, in search of this Plutarch Heavensbee.
-.-
When he opened the door, and he saw the puffy man at the end of a rectangular table, it was the first he'd seen of him. Rounder around the waist, almost a pretty face, with white hair styled in a horrible manner, but he looked normal. Unlike Crane, from the years before, with his weird beard style. Like, this man was more like the norm it the districts. He was more a real person.
The man, he was sure it was him, smiled at him, and as he walked further in the room, and could see beyond simply the door, he saw that Finnick was there, too. He was cautious, nonetheless as he walked towards the head game maker and then stood on the other end of the rectangular table. The game maker stood behind the chair, his hands on it Finnick paced down the length of the table, his arms crossed, one nail in between his teeth. A nervous tick.
Finnick approached him and hugged him. He hugged him back. When they pulled away, Finnick was smiling. "This is great," he said as he turned to face the game maker. "Really," he said as he turned back. "You're gonna love it." He sounded so sure.
He looked at the game maker. "What is this?" he asked him. "And where's the letter from Snow?" he added. The man could have him in a cell, and Annabeth in a grave in a matter of seconds, as well as having Gaea here in the matter of a day or so. He had no wish to see that primordial again. Ever, if he could help it, but he knew it was unlikely.
"Just listen okay," Finnick asked him. "It's good. It's really good."
The game maker smiled. "Before I start," he said, "I would like to offer my sincere apologies, for the reaping, as well as everything that is to come. You can be sure, I was the one to suggest to snow that we do this, and therefore, I switched the envelope around." A surge of anger surged through him, but before he could say anything the game maker continued. "Now I know, all your lives are at a risk right now, but it is for a very good reason. I'm sure you know who Katniss Everdeen is?"
He nodded his head, and immediately, hearing her name, he knew what this was about. But he didn't want to jump to conclusions too quickly.
"Well, she is what I like to call, the spark to the revolution." He sat down, and he let the game maker talk. He still, on the other hand, needed to figure out why Finnick was there as well. "When she won her games last year, she showed to the districts, that the Capitol, does not control them. It's just an illusion of power, which only works because there is no hope to overpass the huge physical power of the Capitol. United, on the other hand, the districts could rise up, and win over the Capitol. Overthrow it, end the games. Turn a nation of dictatorship to one of democracy. Liberate Panem.
"Riots started in various districts, such as eleven, seven and eight and ten after the game," he continued. "They were quickly snuffed out by the peacekeepers. But, that was just a savage attempt to let loose some anger. If we unite together, we could turn that anger towards the Capitol, push and take over. It can happen, and Katniss Everdeen…it was her actions, with that little girl from eleven that started it. Her rebelliousness with the berries that really set a spar aflame.
"All you need to do, is keep her alive in the arena," he said, and that's where he wanted to object. "It does not mean you have to die. Just, ally yourself with the girl, and once you're in there. Her, the boy, both of them, have them alive, and there will be a revolution, mark my words. Other tributes are in on it as well. I will not disclose who, exactly, until I have your word that you're in on it."
"How the hell, does it not mean I have to die?" he asked, that was the first question, the second would be about Annabeth.
Plutarch looked at Finnick, and then he smiled. "You could die," he said. "I mean it could happen. Something in the arena kills you, and hey, Snow must not know this is going on or he will have you all killed, Capitol favorites or not. But, there is a plan, which will be finished off by the end of this week, about getting you all out. Those who remain by the time we say we get you out, then it's off to thirteen."
He scoffed, leaning back on the chair and crossing his arms. "Thirteen?" he asked. "Thirteen doesn't exist anymore." Or so he had been told by the family that had taken him in in his first year. Joseph, a name, a child who was now dead. "It was bombed to the ground. There were no survivors."
Plutarch nodded. "I'm glad you know your history, but, thirteen very much still exists," he said and this was where he stopped believing in what he was saying. He stood up. Finnick outstretched a hand, and suddenly he realized why he was there. To keep him there, to make him believe in it.
"Don't," the man from four told him, and it was as he looked into his sea-green eyes, so full of light, so full of joy and hope and faith, that he decided he would give this a chance. "Listen, Percy, he's saying the truth. Thirteen is not gone."
"They've gone underground," Plutarch told him. "It was their evacuation route. Their escape in case something like what happened happened. They are very much alive, and they have numbers, they have weapons and they have the technology to bring this nation to the Capitol, to knock on Snow's mansion and kill him."
He pointed around himself. "You do realize the room is most likely bugged, right?" he asked him. "I mean I'm supposed to believe that all you're saying is true when Snow could be listening in on it as we speak."
"What's your opinion on Snow, Percy?" Plutarch asked, and the question caught him off guard. "I mean, I'm guessing it isn't good. After all, he reaps you, you win, he sells you through prostitution, then he reaps your girl, and he ups your appointments. What's your opinion on Snow?"
He cringed internally. Flinched his eyes outwardly. "I hate him with my guts," he said smoothly. "And I cannot wait until I find a way to kill him without being killed immediately after, or without them going after Annabeth."
"You're not afraid of the bugs in the room hearing this?" Plutarch asked him, and he saw what he did there.
"No," he replied, still smoothly. "Snow knows exactly what my opinion on him is. But he also made it clear to me he won't kill me for it. You see, he's got other plans in mind. But if I do step out of line too much, then he hurts Annabeth or kills her. And I can't live with that so I keep it to myself. But I'm guessing this won't matter too much. So no, I'm not afraid of him hearing us."
Plutarch smiled. "Good," he said as he pulled out a thin object from his coat. It's the size of a hairpin. "It's a shuffler," he explains. "No one will care about what we're saying, and anyway, they can't hear anything, all the waves transmitted back to command are messed up. They can't hear a thing we're saying."
He scoffed again, but this time it was heartedly. He wanted to get out. "Can I leave?" he asked.
"Are you in?" Plutarch asked instead of replying to him. "If you are, then I'll hand you the letter from Snow, and you can go see him, but before that, I will tell you the names of the people who are also in on it. We'll have another meeting, not altogether for fear of being found out. If you're not, I'll anyways give you the letter, and you can walk out, knowing that if you utter a single word about this outside this room, we are all dead and you are dooming Panem for eternity in slavery. So what do you say?"
He stayed quiet for a long while, his eyes trailing to Finnick more than once. He was certainly in. Why else was he here right now but to be there and make Percy believe in this as much as he believed in it? To be the push to trust this game maker, and to put his life into it.
"Say I am," he started hypothetically, "what about Annabeth?"
Plutarch kept giving him the same smile. He was starting to hate it. "I do not trust her," he said truthfully. "You might, and therefore when it comes down to it we will get her out of the arena as well. But I do not trust her to bring her in on it before."
"How the fuck am I supposed to say yes then?" he said. "Because I sure as hell won't be holding this secret in for the next two or more weeks, just for then perhaps me dying and never being able to tell her. I mean, I can't lie to her."
"You will if you want her to have at least a chance of surviving," he told him. "This is happening, we are going to break out Katniss and Peeta, and whoever else is in there. But it's gonna be a short window of time, and we might not get to everyone. If you don't agree, you won't be on the list of priorities. You're gonna be left behind, and then Snow is gonna, have you. Your girl as well. At least this way, we will look for you, and only if we really cannot find you by the time we need to seriously leave or else all will have been for nothing, will we leave you behind."
He was quiet again. Annabeth in Snow's hand meant Annabeth in Gaea's hands. "So I just…make myself their ally, and then what? Keep her alive like that?"
Plutarch nodded. "Yes, that's all you're gonna need to do."
"If I do, can I have your promise, that whatever happens, you take Annabeth out before me?" he asked him. "Leave me behind if you must, but you take her away. Whatever privilege you would have given to me to get me out, you give it to her. Because I swear, I will burn everything to the ground, if I'd be safe and she would be with Snow, you can quote me on that. No one, will reach thirteen. So promise you'll get her out, that you'll prioritize her over me, and sure. I'm in."
"Done," Plutarch told him. So he was in. "District three is in on this," he then said. "District Four," he gestured towards Finnick. "District five." He thought about Genevieve, but he couldn't bring himself to ask about how and when they'd asked her. How he was going to manage that. "Seven, eight, and eleven. Both tributes from the districts I just mentioned are in on this. You can trust them, and well, I actually believe they are more willing to die for the couple than you are. But I'm betting on you, Percy. The tributes from these other districts are older victors, you've still got young bones. You're a good fighter. You're like Finnick."
He wasn't smiling. "So the letter," he asked.
Plutarch slid it across to him, he grabbed it and walked out.
-.-
The letter had said to meet him, but unlike the other times, where it had been at the presidential mansion, this time Snow had booked them a room, much like Plutarch, in the tribute training center. This wasn't as out there as Plutarch's had been. Instead, the letter had specified that he would need to ask one of the peacekeepers within and that then the peacekeeper would leave him. Through door after door, needing specific keycards, to then end up in a room, much simpler and less glamorous than the one with Plutarch.
It was a simple room, two couches, one in front of the other with a little coffee table in between them, and Snow, dressed in casual attire, a dark turtleneck, and light pants, sat on one of the couches. The one facing the door he walked in through. He, on the other hand, would have the door behind, so there was no running away, not that he was even thinking about that.
The peacekeeper remained outside, and he made his way to the couch in front of Snow. The President was first to speak. "We had the tribute training center made anew. It's brand new," he said.
"I'm sure you didn't spend a penny for it," he said bitingly, without thinking how his words could have an effect on anything in real life. He was sure, though, that the money to build to the center had come straight out of the districts. Not the Capitol. Not Snow.
Snow's sleek smile crossed his face. "Percy, I like you," he said then, and he was taken aback, but he tried not to show that. "I believe we haven't really had time to talk about anything apart from, don't do this, and, don't do that. But I believe you to be a grown man, so let's talk big, alright."
He shook his head slowly. "I have nothing to say to you, Mr. President," he lied, and suddenly, he really felt attacked. Like he knew about the rebel plot he'd just heard about. That Plutarch's device hadn't actually done its work right and President Snow knew about it. Knew about him knowing about it. How terrible would that be? He'd be dead before he even entered the arena.
"I felt like you were going to say that," the president said. "I can't have you tortured right now to see if you're telling the truth, so I'm gonna go with trusting you. But I don't trust you, Percy. I wish I could. I am sure you also know, that if it does come out, that you do know something you shouldn't know, or say, something that could be considered as treason, Annabeth will be the one to pay the price for that."
"I know," he said. "Rest assured, she's the only person I care about. I don't know anything."
"Good," the president said then. "Because I'm guessing you are aware of the propaganda going around Katniss Everdeen?"
He nodded his head. "People believe she can bring the Capitol to the ground. Truly, I believe that too."
"But you're not gonna act on that," President Snow told him. "If you do, you know what happens."
"I was actually thinking about making her my ally in the games," he said, and he wasn't sure what drove him to. "She's good with a bow. I used to know someone who was good with a bow, the fire in her reminds me of her." Thalia.
"Tread carefully, Mr. Jackson," Snow said. "We are in Peace right now. I'm sure you don't want to ruin that to start a war you have no hope to win."
He sat still. He knew what war was. He said so much. "I'm twenty years old Snow, and I've been in two wars over the course of five years. I know how precious the moments of peace are, you can rest assured, as bad as this whole arrangement is, with the games and all, when I go back to the districts there's peace. I will tread carefully, to make it so it remains that way. I've seen war, I have no intention of joining one, even less so helping start one. I want Katniss as an ally, but as soon as she becomes disposable, I will kill her. You can rest assured of that. If it's up to me, Annabeth is the one walking out of that arena. No one else."
Snow smiled, and it was a reminder as to why he always thought of him like a snake. His features just screamed snake. As did his actions, and his words. He was the human incarnation of a snake. Like his father was the incarnation of the sea, and he, he was the son of the sea, and he would not be restrained, not by Snow, not by Gaea, and if he wanted to help start a damn rebellion, then he would do so.
Without asking for permission.
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and that's it for today.
I hope you enjoyed.
Please leave a review, they mean a lot.
have a nice day, and keep healthy.
Hunter