TEAM 13: DISTRICT 3
Hermione : Hermosa
The Apartment
As the District 3 combatants were led into their living quarters, each and every one goggled at seeing their district's projects at work.
"There's the flavor profiler!" The fifteen year-old whispered to the sixteen year-old. It had been developed just two years before, a device which would take a small sample of your blood then spit out a meal suggestion.
"Forget that, my grandfather made the floor-heaters!" Another excellent invention, one that took in nearly 57 variables to heat each centimeter of floor in exactly the right way with regard to ambient temperature, current occupants, and barefooted-ness.
Even as they gawked, however, even the eighteen year-old Johan was careful to stand behind Hessa.
She, after all, could take the same test as him and score twice as highly, and in the technocracy that District 3 ran as that meant more than age ever could.
Streak Trinket, their ever-present escort, frowned at them. "Well, come in then! No point dilly-dallying."
Their former victors were already there, seated at the dining area and partaking in a veritable mountain of appetizers.
The food itself was spread among three tables: one for every victor, Hermione supposed.
"Can we finish cleaning up first?" She asked at last. This year's parade had been based on paint, one of District 3's many exports, and more broadly color. 11 had been red, 12 orange, 13 yellow, and so on. 18, the odd one out of the rainbow, had been painted in shades of ultraviolet, or more accurately in glowing paints; the designer had made no attempt to hide who he wanted and expected to win.
"Later, later!" Streak said. "I'm starved!"
Hessa knew better than to argue the point. Instead she and the others quickly made their way to the tables and began to dine on delicacies they'd never even thought of.
"So." Shift said at last, leaning back to watch her three chosen as they finished up themselves. "One of you needs to do well enough to let me win."
They nodded.
"I don't know if you know this, but many of us prepared for this outcome."
They blinked.
She rolled her eyes.
"Let's ignore Districts 6 and 12, given that they each only have one living victor. Let's also pass the districts with two—who knows what's going on with 9, honestly, and 5's never collaborated before in their lives. District 8 actually fits the pattern, given that Nina chose the 13, 16, 17, and 18 year-olds. Then there's districts 11, 10, and, of course, 3. You want to know who Birdie, District 11's favorite victor, chose? The 13, 17, and 18 year-olds. District 10, following this theme, took the 13, 16, and 17 year-olds—their eighteen year-old is a write-off if I've ever saw one, though I personally wouldn't have considered that sufficient to dismiss the entire team—and I chose you.
District 7's favorite victor, Jack, took the thirteen and eighteen year-olds, as did District 4's, Kalle.
District 1? Their favorite chose 13 and their second favorite chose 18."
Blank faces among the older tributes. Hessa understood, of course, but then this lesson wasn't for her.
"Voting may have seemed quick," Shift finally said, "but it occurred on those little tablets you saw us sitting behind while the Reaping was wrapping up. By the time we came forward our choices were already decided."
More confusion.
"We chose one at a time.
The more desirable teams; 13, 18, 17, 16—they were reserved for the victors the district actually wanted to live. Your teams, in other words."
"We're going to live. Cool." The eighteen year-old said.
Shift rolled her eyes. "Only one of you is going to live. You're just the three most likely to do so."
"Why are you explaining this?" Hermione asked. She couldn't see what Shift had to gain, and very few people in district 3 did anything unless they thought the district or themselves would benefit.
"Because I want to make it clear that as training progresses I will only help who I think is most likely to win. Right now that's Johan, because he's with the 18s, though I admit that my position on that is currently quite weak; I could very well change my mind after I have a better understanding of the remaining makeup of teams 13 and 17."
Hana, the seventeen year-old, frowned but didn't protest. It was likely an old adage to her—she'd spent months preparing, the entire time aware that one small year was all that was keeping her from being on the favorite team to live.
Hessa did not frown at all.
Shift's help was nice, but far from required. Hessa had not interacted with her much which made her too much of an unknown to risk any part of their plan on anyway. She'd keep an eye on the victor, much as the victor would keep an eye on her, but neither saw the point in arguing their side any further, or at all.
"Tomorrow begins training." Shift said at last. "In the morning you will be grouped with your teams for the first time. You'll stay together until after lunch, at which point you will gain access to the training room and may come and go from there as you wish. Victors will only be allowed to start coaching the day after tomorrow—some tosh about team dynamics—so, unless what I see in the training gymnasium tomorrow is too unexpected, I will meet with Johan and the rest of team 18 then. Dismissed."
The three fled, eager to rid their bodies of the sticky, crusty paint. Hermione was the only one of them who did not look terrified at their mere location, and even she knew that was mostly due to an unwillingness to comprehend.
She'd survived one war against insurmountable odds, after all. There was no point fussing over the similar odds which faced her today.