interlude three: consequence
"No… no, no, no, what is the meaning of this!" Valentin screams as he springs from his chair, his eyes wide, his hands shaking, voice reaching an unnatural pitch as he falls into a frenzy. The other gamemakers can't help but stare, watching from within their own seats as the man who is supposed to be directing them throws an arm forward in a wide arc and knocks all of the papers atop his desk onto the ground. He slams his fist against the cleared metal surface, hair askew, face tinged an impossible shade of red in response to his anger. He's distressed - no, beyond distressed, he's fuming, he's irate, he's... completely unhinged, enmity filling his veins as he's forced to watch the events playing out on the screen in front of him, entirely powerless to prevent the impending result.
"Who authorized the change?" Valentin demands, whirling around, looking every bit the madman that Maryse likely claimed him to be when she'd spoken to her staff. Across the room, Oriana can't keep herself from flinching in her own chair, her purple hair falling into her face as she leans forward, doing her best to hide behind her screen. She thinks she's escaped Valentin's notice - hopes she has, if only because she's never been good at dealing with anger, and Valentin is unquestionably angry. She doesn't know what to say - doesn't think she can say anything when he's so upset, especially when she's acutely aware of the reason why.
It's the mutt. The mutt that Maryse ordered her to program and place in the arena, mere hours before the start of the Games themselves. The mutt that's now visible on every screen in Panem, a tall, imposing, skeletal creature with an Executioner's blade perpetually held in its hand, standing over the prone form of Elowyn Eiken from Seven.
"I scrapped that mutt. It's too unstable, too dysfunctional to be in the arena… it was a work in progress, a failed idea, a bad idea, and now it's in there anyway, and absolutely nobody can give me a reason why? Huh? What, is it pure chance?"
Valentin reaches down and flips his chair, stomping toward the front of the room, his brow furrowed, his hands balled into fists before he throws his arms out again, addressing the assembled Gamemakers as a whole.
"Do you think I'm just going to believe that?"
The room is silent. Oriana twines fingers in the fabric of her skirt, worrying her lower lip. This isn't good, she thinks. For more reasons than just Valentin's outburst. There's something else going on, something I wasn't told, that I don't know… something to do with Maryse -
The door at the top of the workroom opens, swinging inward with a clang. Maryse Delacroix steps inside, her heels click-clacking against the floor as she begins to walk down the ramp toward her fuming brother, stone-faced as always.
"You seem to be causing a scene, Doctor."
"The only scene here is the one on that screen." He jabs a finger in the direction of the large projection just behind his body, never tearing his eyes away from Maryse. "The Executioner. My Executioner. What is it doing there?"
"Oh, dear, I wonder. Whatever might a mutt… that you created… be doing inside an arena… that you also created? A truly vexing quandary."
Maryse tuts, crossing her arms. Valentin storms over to her, getting up in her face and jabbing a finger into her chest, incensed.
"You did this," he accuses. Maryse tilts her head back and laughs.
"When would I have had the time?"
"It may not have been with your own hands," Valentin concedes, not backing down, "but you orchestrated it. You put that thing in my arena to fulfill whatever convoluted scheme you have going on with that Snow kid, and so help me, Maryse, I will not -"
"You're in no position to be making threats, brother." Maryse smiles, a shark ready to tear apart her latest catch. She's unflappable… totally unfazed by everything that's unfolding, but deeply amused. It's obvious - even Oriana can tell. And yet…
"What are you playing at?" Valentin hisses with a sneer, and Maryse sighs, shaking her head. She reaches a hand up to adjust her glasses, turning away from her sibling in disgust.
"I've no time for your baseless accusations. You don't care about the arena. You care about Elowyn Eiken."
"That's not -" Valentin tries to protest, and Maryse turns around again, hands on her hips.
"You think I don't know about the little stunt you pulled, rigging a sponsorship for the Ten and Seven girls? Using Verity Renwick as a cover for your misdeed was smart, but not enough. I've been keeping tabs on the mentors for years - so I know that she signs her notes with an R."
"Since when does -" Valentin starts, before shutting his mouth with an audible click, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh?" Maryse asks, perfectly willing to play along, if only to undermine her brother's attempts at feigning confusion and attempting subtlety. "So Anani Morrisey's plate malfunctioning… you don't know anything about that?"
"He was too excitable, I had nothing to -"
"Even though you knew the rigged plate was Elowyn Eiken's, due to the President's specifications? Even though you're the one who rearranged the pedestals at launch, putting a fourteen year old kid in the line of fire to better serve your own treasonous agenda?" Maryse smirks. "You may think you're fighting for a just cause, but your methods are as pragmatic and cruel as mine are, Valentin. There's no denying that."
Valentin takes a step back, his previous anger dissipating, his shoulders slumped. He looks weary.
"I didn't want any of them to die. I never have."
"And yet here you are. A gamemaker." Maryse chuckles. "Strange where life takes us, isn't it? I'm sure dear, sweet Veronika Verduin would agree -"
"Maybe she would, Maryse." Valentin's tone is cold, practically frigid enough to suck the remaining heat from the air, his jaded exhaustion wearing on him. He doesn't seem angry any longer, just defeated. Hopeless, really. "We'll never really know what she thought, will we? Not with them both gone. Not with the Capitol labelling them and sticking them in a box. Mom's just a dissident. Dad's just the dissident's husband. And we're the children of rebels. Nothing you say is going to change that."
"No," Maryse agrees. "Just like nothing you say is going to change your actions."
As if having prepared for the moment - as if she'd planned for it in advance - Maryse takes the opportunity provided by the cue to pull a folded newspaper from in her bag, unrolling it and holding it up, turning to face the rest of the room with the clipping steady in her hand.
Panem Under Fire? Leak Reveals that Presidential Cabinet Elected Dissident Valentin Verduin to Gamemaker's Post.
Valentin's jaw clicks, his face going a deathly shade of white.
"Why would you -"
Maryse raises a hand.
"I haven't done a thing, Val. We both knew the truth would come out eventually."
"The truth. Is that what this is?"
She addresses the room this time, her voice louder than before.
"The leak is genuine. Our beloved president has allowed a criminal into our midst in a last minute bid to swing power in his favor before the elections. And he didn't even think to tell you. His people. His colleagues. I warned him about the consequences that such measures might lead to, and yet he refused to listen. But I think it's clear enough that his Head Gamemaker - my brother - is a threat to our security, one that I'm now being forced to handle."
She nods to somebody standing in the doorway, just out of sight; almost as soon as she does so, two peacekeepers step into the room, marching in unison down the ramp toward both Maryse and Valentin Verduin, one holding an electric baton, the other a pair of cuffs.
Maryse clears her throat, dropping the paper on the floor and stepping past it, using her proximity to Valentin to place a hand on his lower back and give him a slight push to her right.
"Treason, perfidy, extortion, forgery… you're a rebel, Valentin. And now everyone here is aware of that - so I suppose congratulations are in order. You've shown your true colors yet again… and you're out of chances."
She hooks her arm around one of his, bodily dragging him toward the peacekeeper holding the cuffs; Valentin doesn't even protest as she leads him away, the fight seemingly zapped from his body just as Elowyn Eiken's was zapped from hers. The peacekeeper fastens the shackles around his wrists before taking hold of his other arm, waiting for Maryse's okay before leading him off.
Oriana whimpers, sinking ever lower in her seat as Valentin's led past her and out the door, too ashamed to look at him, too ashamed to watch. Because no matter what he did, no matter what Maryse says he did, she can't help feeling like everything is her fault. The mutt, the breakdown, the newspaper, the arrest. She's become mixed up in it all, her allegiances toyed with, her position no more than that of a pawn tethered to two vastly different masters.
He was always doomed, she tells herself. Maryse will keep you safe… she promised, she promised not to hurt him, not to hurt either of them… she promised to leave me alone, and she will, she has to. I want no part in this. I want no part in any of it.
But even as Oriana shrinks in on herself, caught in a web of despair, Maryse catches sight of her - and smiles.
"Your assistance was quite helpful, Miss Elissir." She gives a small nod, scheming, but not pleased. "I promise that your service will be rewarded by Vice President Snow."
"Vice President Snow?" She asks, lip trembling. Maryse's smile grows - an off-putting look for someone who is typically so aloof and serious.
"Yes, President Hellebore will soon be stepping down. But I assure you, President Newmahr - and his cabinet - are always appreciative for patriotic loyalty. Be proud of yourself, Oriana. You're helping to change history."
A/N: Subplot's moving along... hopefully some questions are being answered. Thanks again to everyone who's left feedback on LT so far, I'm truly grateful for every review, PM or comment I receive!
The poll is closed; results are up on my profile. Thanks to everyone who took the time to vote! I'll see you all for the next.