TEAM 13: DISTRICT 9
Katie: Katie
Mounting the Chariots
District 9 stood in a perfectly straight line, waiting for the signal to mount their chariots. They hadn't been as emotionless through the entire ordeal, unfortunately—they'd completely abandoned the attempt on the train, splurging (and dealing with the consequences) with abandon (to the quiet, dignified horror of their escort Glorious Daydream) and none of them had been remotely prepared for the beauticians, but on the whole they managed quite well with their silent rebellion.
Their Victors, too, had taken part. They did every year, so that part wasn't so much a surprise, but it was nonetheless a pleasant reminder that human resilience was not so easily broken. The Victors had even gone so far as to pick their tributes at random, one after another with no rhyme or reason and so quickly that they clearly weren't spending any time bothering to think.
She'd ended up with Torger, in the end. Torger—who had won the 86th Hunger Games at 17—had ended up with Teams 11, 13, 15, and 17. The other victor—Else—had won the 96th Hunger Games when she had been eighteen. Those Games had been especially notable because they'd taken place entirely within a simulacrum of Venus, allowing Else to make it all the way to the end without having actually spilt any blood herself. Katie had quite liked the Games because they were less clearly violent, but the near-immediate suicide of the Game Maker was a clear sign that that was not something she could expect for the Centennial.
Torger, at least, had taken part in a far more traditional Games: the 86th's main gimmick had been being the 'real-life' version of a popular Capitol video-game—every tribute had ended up with about the same resources to start and a visor which, crucially, allowed sponsors to send their favored tributes specific tips, questions, and comments.
Torger, due to his complete lack of personality and unquestioning obedience to his money-spending overlords, had quickly curried favor, and by the time they figured out that he would willingly humiliate himself when the sponsors told him to do so he'd all but guaranteed himself a victory.
His only advice on the train—and, she was sure, his only advice for the year—had been to keep your head down and do what you were told, or near enough anyway.
Katie figured that was good advice in this situation.
Like hell she would listen to it, but it was still good advice.
For now, though, there was no point in doing anything else. She stood with the rest of District 9 in silent rebellion, locked in step with them as they followed the letter, if not the spirit, of their orders.