The last cannon fires. I can't register anything but the reverberating noise and the waves of nausea and horror sweeping over me- threatening to toss me off my feet. I can't let that happen- nobody would respect a victor who doesn't seem good enough to win, especially not in my district. Claudius Templesmith's voice booms into the air around me, but I can only focus on the girl who lies bleeding, unbreathing, on the ground in front of me. Her lemur muttation has collapsed dead as well. Five kills to my name. "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the victor of the One Hundredth Hunger Games and the Fourth Quarter Quell, Marius Dylan!"
My torso stings where Mikhail cut across my flesh in our fight, my lower back throbs where I tripped over that root and hit my back on the Cornucopia, and my shoulder pulsates with the fire of pain where Ebony's crossbow bolt wound was reopened; none of it compares with my rent heart. I tremble and fall to my knees as it finally hits me. No more battles, no more killing- I finally am going home. Then something else hits me, even harder- the cost for my return is twenty-three young lives. Five of which I took personally. Rosi Jenns, from Six. Alice Griffin, from Nine. Mallow Greene, from Five. Mikhail Frey, from Three. And Linley Cresta, my very own district partner. The hovercraft comes to take away Mikhail's body and it has to stretch its claw out twice, to pick up her hewn-off arm. I blink fast and hard, driving away the tears threatening to well up. Why am I crying? I've seen brutes celebrate at this time, but I just stare uncomprehendingly at the ground as I drop to my knees. My knuckles turn white as they grip my harpoon. The weapon that's killed so many. With a flash of anger that I thought had left me forever just a few moments ago, I drive the point of the weapon into the ground. It's already another way I differ from most Career victors. I've seen people with their preferred, famous weapons mounted in their houses. Mine will stay in this arena.
On the tenth anniversary of their Games, the victors are ushered back to their arenas to take a tour. Usually the Capitol elite will pay their fortunes to accompany these tours- the victors will give away their stories as they travel their paths. When I return, I'll look at this spear and remember these thoughts. They won't clean away the bloodstains or take away the harpoon. It ruins the 'historical purity' of the sight. Yeah, right. Purity. Because having twenty-four teenagers fight to the death in a freaking gladiatorial arena reeks of purity. And I came out on top. How? I'm not the one who deserved it- Reetan would have won if it were a total competition of strength and that little kid from One or even the blind boy would have won if it were about intellect. If it were a beauty pageant the kids from Ten would be standing in my place. But none of those are the Games- they all are. I just had the right combination for this year.
The hovercraft disappears and another flies in and floats high over my head. Its bright silver colors hurt my eyes. The anthem plays as a ladder descends and I grab the rungs in a frenzy. All I want is out of the arena. All I want is home. An electric current holds me still as the ladder rises, although drops of my blood still fall from my wounds. If this thing doesn't hurry up I'm going to die anyway, of blood loss. It's happened twice before, in the fifth and eighty-second Games. But the hatch slides shut with a grating noise behind me as the anthem's last strains fade and I rock back and forth on my heels as Mikhail's dying cries echo in my ears. It all is true now that I can't see the arena. I am the victor. I have ended five lives, all of them younger than me.
The doctors surround me, but all they do is wrap stark-white bandages around my wounds. "Your preparation can wait until you get back to the Capitol," they say, "so try not to stuff yourself too full of food." I am led by a scar-faced Avox to a pristine room where the table is laden with food. All for me? Yes. Nobody else arrives. I grab the crystal plate at the lone set place at the table and begin heaping I with food. Even if I don't eat it all, they might try to take the rest of the food away and I won't let them take what I might be able to eat. So I fill my plate until I can barely hold it. My left shoulder is still too much in pain to use, although the pain takes second rung to the hunger. Hence the name of the Game, I suppose. I sit down and look at my food.
Everything on my plate is familiar. I'm so much in the habit of eating District Four's food that I have, simply by routine, taken a bit of all the fish dishes that sit at the feast. I take small bites of eat, savoring the salty taste. Then I go to the smaller table filled with desserts. My triumphant victory meal has to have lots of sugar in it- I feel almost obliged to pig out after two weeks of lake water and Spam. I'm careful not to overdo it. I stop when the windows clear up. The Capitol is visible beneath me, so clean and sparkling compared to… me. I can see the mobs arriving even as the hovercraft lands on the roof of the Training Center. Do the Capitol citizens get live feed of the Hunger Games or something? Less than two hours ago Mikhail was alive. The doctors usher me through hallways to an operation room similar to the one they put me in when they took the blood for the muttations. One of them explains what they're doing as I thrash around. As he raises his little white mask, he says, "Calm down, boy. We've taken the crocodile out of the arena and are preparing to put it to sleep. We need to sever the connection first, otherwise you'll die." Then I lean back and let them affix a gas mask over my face.
I sit up blearily, knocking over a glass of water sitting on the bedside table. The nurse squeaks and runs to sop up the liquid as I look around the room. The same doctor who put me under is sitting in a straight-backed chair ten feet away from me. "Glad to see you back so soon, Marius!" he says in his deep monotone voice, "The operation was successful- you are no longer attached to the muttation." I look down at myself- even though I'm in a soft white hospital bed I'm covered in blood, grime, and the arena clothes are still with me. "Your stylist and prep team are on their way to see your remake is completed." He taps some tubes that are hooked into my wrist. "These are already pumping some of the serum in that helps wounds and scars to heal." I'm pleased at first. Then I realize the scars are all I have left of the arena- of the kids who died. I rip the tubes out with a single jerk, which makes the doctor scowl. I do fight this time, as the scars are much more significant to me than the mutt connection. I can certainly go through life without that reminder. But the scars…
The nurse jabs something into my arm and I try to jump out of the bed. It's too late. My eyes roll back in my head and I'm out again. No… no… They can mend my muscles, clean my skin, stitch my wounds… but I want the scars!
I struggle back to my senses from the haze of sleep and find myself clean. And in a different place. Wait- the place isn't new, though. It's the room I stayed in before and… ugh. My prep team swirls into the room, bustling around me with little squeals of glee. I hate the prep team. They're all little fangirls with no actual personality. I look at myself. My skin shines with what the people can a 'healthy tan'- of course, the 'healthy tans' actually can give you skin cancer, but you can't avoid the sun in Four. My skin… is perfect. There's no dirt left on me, there's not a drop of blood remaining… but the scars are gone too. The shoulder wound is smooth and perfectly normal; there's no sign of the crossbow bolt that sank into my shoulder. There's no cut on my forehead, no gash in my stomach. I'm totally healed. And I hate it. I stand, but they still have wires holding me down. I holler once, but it hurts my throat. How long have I been asleep for my throat to go so rusty? I focus on a sheet of paper next to the bed to calm myself down, or at least attempt to. I read my name. My personal information. Wait. That's not my weight! I'm most certainly not that light. Unless I lost more weight in the arena than I thought. That must be it. I still won? I've sufficiently impressed myself. My statistics are there. The names of my sponsors. There aren't that many, but the amounts of money they gave are tremendous. They've got everything. I snap my head away from the sheets of paper and stare at the ceiling for a while. I don't want to go back to sleep. They might try and do something else to me.
The door creaks open and my mentor comes in. Crazy Annie, I think, but I won't ever call her that again. She's Linley's aunt. In fact, she probably wants to kill me. But she's holding a tray. It has some bowls on it and a small metal box. Annie presses a button on the box and the wires retract from me. I sit up gratefully- Annie freed me. She sets the tray on my knees and pulls up a chair to my bedside.
"They call you Mars, right?" Her voice is wispy, like a fairy's always is in the stories.
"Some of them do," I say, slightly more focused on the broth she's brought me.
"Well, Mars…. Linley's not coming back." I gulp. I've forgotten the food now.
"I'm sorry, Annie, I didn't mean it. She was my motivation after that, I wanted to apologize to everyone in public, I've been really messed up over it…." I just don't know what to say. I blubber on until Annie sets a light hand on my shoulder and shushes me.
"I know, Marius. I saw right when it happened. If you weren't truly sorry, you wouldn't have reacted right away. You wouldn't have tried to help. But you did. And at first I thought you were terrible. But now I'm not afraid. She's with Finnick now, wherever that is. She's with her mom. If she had come back she would have just had me to help her with the pain of the Games. But Marius… you made it easier for her to go, when you were there for her. She never blamed you. She never wanted you to die for that." I'm taken back. Annie is indeed mad, but she's perhaps wiser than any of us.
"I'm just… so sorry." I want to find the words.
"Save that for the interview, Mars. You don't have to tell me anything else." Annie watches me as I reluctantly slurp down the broth and eat the bread she brought me. "You've got a few hours before it's time for the interview. It's been three days since your last battle. I'll see you on the stage," she whispers, fiddling with a sea-green gemstone on her ring as she speaks.
"Annie?"
"Yes?"
"Was that ring Finnick's?"
"It was my token twenty-nine years ago… and his, twenty-five years ago." She walks away.
The next person who visits me is my stylist. I'm out of bed by the time Onjaro strides into the room and he seems very pleased to see that. I got out of bed, but I'm not going anywhere else until the tribute- no, victor- interview. My stylist, a man who's been working the Career districts for years and knows how the whole costume thing works, easily counts my ribs. I lost more muscle than anything else, but I haven't changed dramatically. The Capitol stocked up the Cornucopia exceptionally well this year, so nobody would die of starvation or anything.
"We've got you all ready, Marius. I had the prep team do all the work while you were unconscious, so you don't have to go through any sort of pain now when I'm working on you." I wince with remembrance- when they were preparing us for arena entry the Capitol had had something done to all the boys so they wouldn't grow beards on the arena. I don't know how it worked or what it was; all I knew was that it had hurt like crap. So I am relatively enthusiastic about this newest costume.
Onjaro trims my hair and nails, and I immediately forget any tiny bit of agreement to go along with this preparation. I feel like a girl, pampered in some salon. A Capitol girl, no less. I inch away from my stylist and he laughs. "No need to become frightened, Marius!" He says in his ridiculous Capitol accent, "I won't be doing any more sort of primping from now on!" He turns my face from side to side, slaps some sort of skin-tome makeup on my skin, and tosses me the interview outfit I have to wear this time. It's the last time I have to be in the spotlight like this. The Victory Tour for male victors is basically just a whole bunch of different-colored tuxedos and after that I can get by with suits forever.
The thing is a suit, although it rivals some of the girls' dresses for gaudiness. It's a deep turquoise at the bottom of the trousers, gradually lightening to a sea-foam green at the lapels. There's bright blue shiny stuff edging the coat and shells used as buttons. And then there's a spattering of pearls on the cloth, arranged as a quasi-sash. It's pretty heavy, but after I've survived the arena I can withstand a fancy suit. As long as they don't have me near-naked as Finnick Odair always was stuck with, poor guy. The shoes are the color of sand, with shells attached to them, too. I feel like an idiot, but Onjaro assures me the crowd will approve and it's not even too extreme for the districts.
Well, not extreme for a Capitol outfit, anyway.
Annie meets me outside my rooms, smiling weakly and swatting Onjaro's hand away whenever he tries to 'fix' my hair. I purposely messed it up just to irritate him, and Annie obviously knows it. We walk to the elevator, which transports us to the training center. Already I can hear the screams of the Capitol citizens above in the stadium area, waiting to see me at long last. They want to see the Quarter Quell victor. They don't care about Marius Dylan. They don't care about any of the other tributes. They just care about the victor. If they care at all. The prep team is in the waiting area already, waiting for the cue from above- the shush of the crowd as Aurelia Flickerman steps onstage and the anthem plays. The metal plate will rise again and again, bringing each of us to the Capitol's greedy eyes and ears. Annie is here too, and Trilla the escort. Trilla has been in a fluffy pink panic ever since I showed up outside of my room. She's the one who has to get everything ready for us. I'm surprised she hasn't keeled over yet.
The anthem plays and the prep team leaps onto the plate, giggling like the shallow creatures the three of them are. I roll my eyes. The plate returns amid Capitol shrieks and Trilla arranges herself on it with great care. She's wearing shoes that raise her up a foot in the air… shoes that make her level with my six-foot-three-inches height. I almost laugh out loud, but Onjaro and Annie shush me. Onjaro patiently waits his turn, but then almost runs when the plate descends empty again. Annie laughs, but her hands are sliding up towards her ears nervously. I reach out to try and calm her down, but then I draw my hand back. That's what I did for Linley when Reetan was threatening her. Annie's soon regained whatever composure she's maintained for all these years and is raised up on the silver platform. Everyone up there cheers. Annie's one of the favorite older victors. It's easier for people to like her- she was insane before she came back. Then it's my turn.
I step on the metal plate and the lights reach me even belowground. I haven't prepared in any way for Aurelia's questions. I'm winging it all. I wipe my clammy palms on the suit and shift my feet nervously until the plate rises. I clench my fists. I have to be who they think I am only for a few more minutes. Then the interview will start and I'll let loose. The plate rises and I'm blinded by the camera flashes and the lights. Soon the screams begin as they see it's their newest victor and I fake a grin as they shriek my name. I see signs saying 'Will you marry me?' and stuff like that. I try not to let my smile turn into a grimace. They take this stuff for granted in the Capitol. When the plate rises, I hurry over to Aurelia and sit down in the silver plush chair. I'm not even sore from two weeks of fighting and nightmares, thanks to the Capitol technology. I hate it. I want the aches, I want the dreams. Anything to keep the memories from fading. To keep the others from disappearing forever.
"Marius Dylan, everyone!" Aurelia shouts. The cheers ricochet everywhere once again in a booming wave of noise. She pumps my hand up and down vigorously, and I hold the smile on my face until the noise has somewhat dissipated. Then I just assume my normal expression.
"Well, let's not wait, folks! I bet everyone wants to see the recaps!" Aurelia's words are greeted with yet more screaming from the audience, but in their shouts I only hear Gabriel's tortured cries. Everything seems to fall down on me and my heart's pounding echoes in my ears. I totally drop my composure and cover my eyes… and nobody does anything. After I look back up, the pounding has subsided and I'm glad to see nobody noticed me. The whole place has gone dark and nothing is watching me anymore. It's all focused on the screen ahead. The anthem plays once again, and then we're flashed into the district reapings. Mine is ruthless- everyone's already forgotten about Linley by the time reapings are over and they're much more interested in me. Volunteers have that effect. Ours is the only selection shown in full, although Mikhail, Gabriel, Ebony, and Rose are also featured. Then they flash to the chariots- Reetan is shoved out and everyone laughs. They don't spend as much time on the victor as usual- the other stylist designed chariots and I was stuck in this awful fish suit. Linley was almost swamped by hers. It was terrible. They spend a fair amount of time on Eleven- their 'bountiful orchard' costumes were a big splash. The training scores are next- again, the Careers and Eleven are featured. The commentary is terrible- talking about these tributes' odds when twenty-three of them are dead now. I notice that I'm placed as top ten and Linley is a bloodbath. They had Reetan and Stavren as top five material. Awkward. I bite my knuckles to keep from almost yelling during the interviews. A bunch of the kids were just plain klutzy, unsure of themselves and repeating earlier angles and answers. They show my interview in full, and I get to see the suave, confident person everyone else saw.
Boy, do I look like a jerk up there joking about murder. It's only a half-hour into the show.
The bloodbath is shown in detail. They even had cameras in the Cornucopia, so we get to see little Alice die in total gory detail. How could I do that to her? I try to say that I just put her out of her misery, but the only thing I can think of is that I didn't feel a single speck of remorse at all until a week later. The bloodbath is so detailed. I see Lucius Knox fall when his badger does and I see Reetan and I fight over Rosi. Kohle wasn't shown, but the commentators talk about his suicide. I see Dylan torture Shaka Aastor and then get himself killed. Idiot.
The first day is skipped almost entirely, although they show Shaka and Ira finding each other and Mikhail saving the injured boy beforehand. They show me and Reetan fighting. Then the second day- they show Stavren, Mallow, and mine's battle in its entirety, and again I feel only wretchedness for my lack of emotion then. They show the other Careers finding the alliance and I close my eyes. I don't want to see Scar's death after Reetan boasted so much about it at the camp. They have flashes of other loners, inserted randomly into the movie. I have to suffer through this?
They show Mikhail joining another alliance and then the thirteen-year-old girl from One dying by her own traps. It's tragic. They show clips of me fighting with Alex and Reetan in there too. It's a story of betrayal this year.
Then the worst scene. The one where I actually have feelings- that's what the prep team told me. Ugh. I see the entire story. Stavren and Ebony killing the other boys- letting me live because 'I wasn't a threat', and then Ebony going to get Linley as I awoke. I'm terrible and fierce as I storm from the tent in the dark night, threats flying through the night. Ebony's crossbow bolt embeds itself in my shoulder and then… then… I plan to close my eyes at the throw of the spear, but they don't show it. Suddenly I'm on the ground next to Linley, begging her to stay. The crowd sighs in their emotion. They probably have less feelings than the Marius onscreen had. Until now. The boy I watch cries out and beats the ground, raging. They show my entire display of grief. I'm disgusted. Capitol citizens like this stuff? This entertains them? Thankfully the scene changes and suddenly I know why Mikhail knew how I felt. She killed the boys and I'm in deep disgust. At least Linley's death was an accident. But my feelings shift again when she cries and gives both boys tearful goodbyes.
The top eight interviews are barely skimmed, except, of course, for mine. Shoalle is doing well, although the cast on her leg is bulky. She must have hated it. Then they skip forward a whole day into the middle of the avalanche, forcing everyone to watch as Axit dies in agony and Stavren's bear mutt is crushed to death. Top six.
Mikhail is back onscreen, being enticed by Vulkin Harris to a battle of chance. I watch carefully. Nobody could have known the difference between the bottles. Vulkin got overconfident. That's almost what I did in these Games. I could have ended up like the younger boy.
Top five. Rose heads down to the lake. I'm glad I wasn't there that day. She drinks… why are they showing this? The crocodile bursts from the water and snatches the ferret in its iron jaws. Oh no. I had six kills on my list. Rose is on my kill list because my mutt ate hers. No wonder it didn't take the meat I offered it. I'm almost sick in the victor's chair right then and there. Six kills! That's one-fourth of the tributes! I'm a murderer.
Top four. I know what's coming. They show it in full and my stomach heaves. I can't let them see me cry- no respect and I won't get my message across. Gabriel screams and I only open my eyes once, when it goes quiet. They zoom in on the horse charm falling from Gabriel's hand and then pan out to show Ebony falling dead from the poison. She thought he was me. I'll forever have his death on my conscience as well. It's not my fault, but I won't be able to shake it away. Ever. The final battle. Spider-walking mutts chase Mikhail to me and I saunter into the clearing like a television villain. I'm ruthless, and Mikhail is fierce. The ever- editing Capitol cuts out all the conversation we had during that battle. Because anything I say, ever since the seventy-fourth Hunger Games and Katniss Everdeen's stupid berries, could start a rebellion. It was easily quelled though, after the Quell. Mikhail falls. The recap ends with Claudius Templesmith's announcement.
This is a story of betrayal. I barely notice when President Mortys arrives and the anthem plays again. I manage to stand up right before the spotlight lands on me. The cold-faced woman has a victor's crown; the thing is sturdy and majestic, emblazoned with the Capitol seal and the seal of District Four. She places it on my head with a smile that could freeze my crocodile mutt in its tracks. It looks like a sneer, although it's supposed to be warm and celebratory. She pate me on the cheek, saying nothing as she turns to face the crowd and acknowledges me as victor. I'm safe for now. The President has nothing against me. Aurelia sits me back down as the President exits. They've started a new thing now. Instead of having the final interviews the following night from the recap, they have them directly afterwards. Aurelia starts the ball rolling.
"So, Marius! How are you?"
"Considering I've killed six people in the past two weeks and almost died a few times myself, I'm great!" The Capitol cheers. That's not a normal reaction.
"How did you feel when you volunteered, young man?" No matter how hard she tries, Aurelia never had the humor her father did. The Head Gamemaker Vespasian Riker would be funnier, and that guy looks like he'd kill you for the sheer pleasure of eating your liver.
"Um, like any other volunteer, I guess. Glory for the district, right?" One thing Aurelia's good at- telling when someone's not being wholly truthful.
"Oh, I think it's more than that, don't you?" The crowds scream. I sigh.
"All right, all right! My girlfriend was supposed to volunteer, but she got hurt, so I volunteered instead. One of us was going in this year." Aurelia dabs at her eyes.
"Isn't that sweet?" A picture of Shoalle flashes onscreen behind the Capitol woman. "Is this the girl?" I nod. Aurelia turns to the crowd again. "Shoalle Halifax, everybody!"
"Um…"
"Back to the interview, everyone!"
"So how did you like those mutts, Marius?"
"They were the scariest things ever, at first. When they came up out of the ground and you saw the huge things, they were terrifying! But then you realized which one was yours, like I did when I met the crocodile at the lake, and they're not so bad. Or…" A lump forms in my throat, "when you chase them, they're not scary. They're afraid." The crowd murmurs. It's an unorthodox answer, even for an unusual question. Most Career victors talk about how they aren't afraid. Aurelia acts like she agrees with me, although there's no possible way she could know what it felt like.
"Are you excited about getting back home?" That's easy.
"Right now, I don't want anything else but District Four, my parents, Shoalle, and the ocean. And… I want to apologize." Aurelia looks at me curiously.
"Go on…"
"I want to say I'm sorry for what I did in that arena. I was ruthless. I killed your children and I'll never forgive myself. Rosi, Alice, Mallow, Rose, Mikhail, and Linley. I'm so sorry to each and every one of them for what I did. For Linley especially. She was never supposed to be in that arena; she wasn't supposed to be in the path of my spear. And Mikhail, who made it so far. And Rose, who died by her mutt who died by my mutt. For Rosi and Alice, who didn't survive five minutes in that arena. For Mallow, whose name I even learned before I killed her. I'm sorry." Aurelia is stunned, but the audience knows what to do. They cry out that I'm forgiven, but I can't accept that from them. They chorus their sorrow.
"What was it like? Ending a life, I mean."
"It's the feeling of brutish ferocity, the feeling of cutting apart a soul, and the red bloodlust and adrenaline pumping behind your eyes," I reply. It's the truth. My fingers still remember how it felt hurling that spear in the night. They remember the dull thud of the harpoon in the girl's flesh. My ears recall the crack of bone. The echo of tortured cries. But I never really tortured- but they still all felt that way. I pinch the bridge of my nose between two fingers.
Two more questions, okay?" Aurelia doesn't even give me a chance to break down and cry; she doesn't let me reply to her statement. "What are you going to say to Shoalle and Linley's aunt Annie Cresta when you get back?" Another easy one.
"I've already talked to Annie a-"
"What did she say?"
"She said it was all okay now." My voice breaks rather embarrassingly.
"And Shoalle?" I had been getting to that part.
"I'm going to tell her to never volunteer. It's not what she thinks it is." Everyone 'awws'. "She may not listen, but I love her stubbornness too." They 'aww' even more.
"Okay, last question. What will your talent be when you get home?"
"You're asking me that, when there are so many deeper questions you could ask?"
"We'll leave that to the people on your Victory Tour, Marius!" Aurelia laughs, but I'm taking this seriously.
"My talent will be remembering."
"What?"
"You heard me. I'm going to remember each tribute in my Games and as many as I can learn about from past Games and try to teach them to other people. Nobody deserves to die early and be forgotten. So my talent will be to remember. I'll learn things on my Victory Tour that I'll add to my remembrances, too." Aurelia is shocked speechless at my answer to the lighthearted question.
"Well there you have him, everyone! Marius Dylan of District Four, victor of the One Hundredth Hunger Games- the rememberer of tributes!" She raises my hand in the air, and I get a standing ovation. Too bad it's just custom to stand for the victor. Otherwise I'd actually be honored by the Capitol's display of respect.
Wow! What a wild ride! Personally, my favorite part is when Marius didn't even mention his girlfriend until halfway through the Games and then she suddenly became pivotal character development material.
If you read this entire old story... thank you! I hope you were adequately entertained by my old writing! It's been really fun for me personally to look back on this and recognize my personal growth- and also to find bits and pieces that I'm still proud of for various reasons.