Chapter IV, Capitol: Hellfire
- Six Feet Under -
The Twenty-Fifth Hunger Games
Training Day One: Evening
Alanis Munari, District Eight Female
Alanis didn't realise how hungry she was until lunch was announced.
Her stomach grumbled as she put down the rudimentary net that she had crafted, without any help from Lazarus as he only joked and messed around. The net was barely wound tight and definitely wouldn't catch a single animal, but Alanis didn't want to think that far ahead. Not yet.
She stood up, "I'm starving."
She wanted to lighten the mood like Lazarus did so easily. She was envious of his ability to just shrug everything off and push forwards with a grin.
I wish I could do that every time Mom and Dad came home…
The thoughts evaporated. Alanis didn't know if she truly couldn't remember, or maybe it was because she didn't want to.
"You're gonna sit with me, right?" Lazarus asked.
"Why wouldn't I?" Alanis' brows furrowed, "Don't tell me that you're worried about making new friends?"
"Of course not!" Lazarus laughed, "I mean, more for you, since you seem so… somber."
Alanis' smile fell, "Am I?"
"It's understandable," Lazarus sympathised with her, "The situation is just a little shitty. I'd be miserable to, if I wasn't so—"
"Annoyingly optimistic?"
"Yeah, we'll go with that," Lazarus laughed, "Come on. I don't want to sit at the loser's table."
The pair of them walked towards the far corner of the training centre to where the cafeteria was. The other tributes merged in around them, instinctively moving as a pact. Despite their overall need to be enemies… fear of the unknown somehow kept them all close.
"Ladies first."
Alanis stepped in and immediately halted. The cafeteria was nothing like she had imagined. It wasn't bare or empty — a large, oak table sat in the very middle of the room, a banquet spread out on top. It seemed less for them and more for someone incredibly special.
Unless we are incredibly special people? Alanis thought. When she spied the cooked courgettes at the far end, her belly warmed. A distant, comforting memory eased over her skin until her smile became natural.
"Damn," Lazarus mouthed, "I'm impressed."
A sister, dressed in virginal white, guided them towards the table. The rest of the tributes fell in behind as Alanis walked the entire length of the room, eyes fully sat on the food. There was everything she could've dreamed of — from a variety of cooked meats to cheese, bread, vegetables, fruits, nuts and desserts.
All the things that she barely knew but craved. Her mouth watered.
"Where shall we sit?"
Alanis snapped back, realising the tributes were taking their seats. "Uh… you pick."
Lazarus wasn't fussed, apparently, as he took the first seat he saw. Alanis smiled as she slipped in next to him.
They weren't necessarily allies — the discussion hadn't been approached yet — but their bond seemed to unite them. Alanis realised, as Lazarus put a napkin on his lap, that even if they weren't to be allies, that she hoped he'd be okay… for as long as necessary.
"Tributes!"
A voice boomed over a speaker. Alanis looked up at the ceiling, perplexed, as a young, short girl slipped into the seat at her right. They shared a polite, tense smile.
"For your first ever full day here in the Capitol, we wanted you to experience a true feast. For centuries, we have thanked Limos for the blessed work she did on our land. She graced us with good rain, healthy soil, strong animals and even stronger humans to utilise it."
Alanis smiled a little too sarcastically. District Eight provided nothing but textiles — it was hardly Limos' work to dye fabric.
"Before you dig in… I would like you to enjoy this special soup."
There were hushed murmurs as, out of nowhere, countless sisters arrived with covered bowls. One was placed right in front of Alanis, causing her to inhale the exotic, spicy aroma. It was like nothing she had smelled before.
When it was revealed, it was an odd shade of green. Too light for pea, too dark for broccoli.
"This looks disgusting," Lazarus whispered, leaning into her left ear.
Alanis laughed, "It does look a little… suspicious."
"Yeah, and I'm only a little annoying."
Alanis laughed, covering her mouth to ensure she was as respectful as she could be in the strange circumstances.
"Please! Enjoy!"
"What if I'm allergic?" Lazarus quipped.
"Are you?"
"…maybe."
Alanis nodded, dipping her spoon into it, "I guess you'll have to brave like I am."
She closed her eyes and puckered her lips, letting the soup slide down her throat. It was warm, bitter… a strange mixture of sour and sweet. It sizzled her tongue and brought a few tears to her eyes.
"This soup is—"
Her words disappeared as time stilled around her. She was suddenly assaulted by these strange, vibrant colours, swirling and shifting around her. She felt both light and heavy, dense and tiny, flashes of neon and pastels…
She brought a hand to her face, watching her fingers as shreds of skin began to disappear and disintegrate.
"Lazarus?" Her tongue was swollen, words like dirt.
Her arm began to slowly disappear, turning into dust that seemed to vanish amongst the iridescent lights. Her heart raced as she tried with her other hand to stop it. She slapped her arm, panicking, but it wouldn't stop…
"Alanis!"
As if someone turned the lights on, the colours vanished. The sterile, waxy cafeteria with its feast and oak table reappeared. Alanis had both her arms stretched out in front of her, her dark skin peppered with pinches and bruises.
"Alanis…!"
She turned to face Lazarus, her breath shaky and trapped in her throat. "L—Lazarus…"
He was as white as a ghost, a trickle of sweat arching down the bridge of his nose. "You… you were hitting yourself… your arms…"
Alanis tucked them under the table, self-conscious. "That soup…"
Lazarus angrily shoved his across the table, almost knocking it over. That's when Alanis realised that she wasn't the only one. The other tributes shared similar, strong reactions of confusion and fear.
Alanis breathed through her nose, trying to calm down. She kept her eyes levelled with Lazarus. She knew that it wasn't just her. "What did you see?"
Lazarus paled, "I was surrounded by dead bodies."
"What?"
"Yeah," Lazarus nodded, "There was definitely something hallucinogenic in that soup cause I haven't tripped that hard since I was fourteen. I bet they put in some random mushrooms they found."
Alanis was suddenly not very hungry any more.
"I just wanted some damn steak," Lazarus complained, "Is that too much to ask?"
Vendelin Elsing, District Six Male
Rising from the table when everyone else began to finish, Vendelin couldn't shake the awful memory from his head.
He was surrounded by broken mirrors and spiders — which was awesome because he loved spiders — but there was something surreal about it. His reflection never looked like him. It was always disfigured and twisted, as if a caricature of what Vendelin hated most about himself.
Tay was quiet next to him and barely touched any of the food. Vendelin briefly thought about asking her if she was okay… then realised it was a stupid question and berated himself for it.
Don't alienate the only person who will want to team up with you.
Vendelin suddenly felt really sad.
Who am I kidding? Why would she?
No, I can't do this. I have to remain positive…
As Vendelin walked back into the training centre, he pushed his shoulders back and forced a smile on his face. He wasn't one to be dejected in the face of misery. He thrived in it and came out the other side stronger than before.
He went back to his original station — stacked full of textbooks — and took a seat once more. To his right, a small stack had formed where he had read through them already. Never a practical learner, Vendelin loved to read. He absorbed small details from the text and could only hope that, if the time rose to put it into action, he could do it.
Something inside of him, though, longed for company. Books were great… but a friend would be awesome.
And that's why whenever he heard the faintest sound of energetic conversation or people generally near him, he looked up, hopeful to be included.
Across the room, he saw Tay talking to another girl. They both seemed quiet, concerned, whispering. Vendelin couldn't help but look, wondering why Tay had decided to befriend a complete stranger over him?
It's fine, Vendelin shook his head, smiling as if to will his happiness up. Everything will work out like it should.
"We should talk about the dream more, Lazarus."
"I don't want to."
Vendelin had his nose in a book but his eyes wandered. The pair from District Eight drifted near him, a tense discussion being shared between them.
"It's imperative that we do. It could be important and Monet said—"
"—I know, but can't we do this later? I just want to forget about it for a little while."
"It's no coincidence that we both have missing memories and then a weird, telling dream."
The boy sighed heavily, "We'll talk about it later, I promise. Let's just do some other stuff for now. Maybe Monet can give us more answers?"
The girl seemed to not take his answer well. She didn't look angry, but Vendelin saw the sadness in her eyes. It seemed as if she was hoping that an answer would ease her own burden. She didn't say anything, leaving the boy.
Vendelin's eyes followed her as she left when the boy turned to face him. That's when he really saw his features. His smooth complexion and dark, kind eyes struck a chord somewhere in Vendelin's stomach. A deep, knowing pit.
"I'm sorry."
Vendelin's cheeks grew heated. "Are you talking to me?"
The boy laughed, "You're the only one over in this corner. We didn't even see you."
Vendelin smiled, "You don't have to be sorry. I guess I'm sorry for being in the way…"
"You're fine. You're not the way?"
Vendelin realised he wasn't used to such kindness and didn't understand at all how to navigate it. He was used to laughing away tormenting comments and hiding his sadness as the laughter from the other kids grew.
"Oh."
"You've got a lot of books there. Anything good?"
Vendelin bent the book down to show him the pictures, "It's just about different types of flora. Nothing exciting. Not like that soup—"
"—I wouldn't call it exciting."
"Sorry," Vendelin apologised, "I don't know why I said that when you guys were just arguing about it…"
"Were we arguing?" The boy seemed genuinely confused, "Oh, shit. Is she mad at me?"
Vendelin shrugged, an apologetic, awkward smile on his face. "I don't know girls very well."
The boy laughed, approaching closer and closer. Vendelin couldn't look away. He didn't know what it was that made him feel so flustered and unsettled (in a good way).
"I'm Lazarus. What shall I call you? Textbook boy?"
Vendelin laughed, "I've been called a lot worse. I'm Vendelin."
"Vendelin, huh?" Lazarus' eyes widened, "That sounds familiar."
Vendelin's cheeks warmed up again. The pit of his stomach seemed to explode into a thousand butterflies and somewhere, in the depths of his mind, a small, dark voice berated him for being so hopeful. "Why does it?"
Lazarus leaned over, reaching down with his hand, "No reason."
Vendelin eyed it up briefly before realising he needed to accept the handshake. When he did, something seemed to hit him. A sweet, morose sense of familiarity that made him feel not so terribly alone.
"I feel like we were meant to meet each other," Vendelin spoke without thinking. He paused, bracing himself for Lazarus to freak out. "...Is that weird?"
Lazarus only laughed though, "Not any weirder than being taken from our families for most of us to die."
"I want to say the weirdness follows me, but Ardey told me that self-deprecating humour doesn't sit well with everyone."
Lazarus laughed again, but Vendelin was being wholly serious. He hid his truthfulness behind a short laugh, though, if only to not fully scare Lazarus away.
Vendelin wanted company so much and Lazarus seemed the right fit.
"I like you, Vendelin. You're honest and funny. There should be more people like you," Lazarus straightened up, mouth twisted. "I really need to go and find Alanis, though… I just hope I haven't upset her."
"Oh, yeah, that's a good idea," Vendelin smiled, hiding his disappointment. "It was nice meeting you…"
Lazarus paused, looking down at Vendelin with a half-cocked head and smile. "Yeah… yeah it was nice to meet you too."
And just like that, as Lazarus walked away, Vendelin was alone once more. He pushed himself into another book, if only to forget about the dark, kind eyes that made him feel good about himself.
Amryn Delano, District Three Female
Amryn didn't want to be around anyone.
She knew she wasn't okay. She knew that everything that had happened thus far, shrouded in mystery and religion, only encouraged her to feel even more anxious about… everything. A bundle of stress and nerves, Amryn sought the comfort of a nearby training stall.
She wished she didn't feel so frightened. She envied how everyone around her somehow held their emotions in check. She longed for normalcy.
Oscar drifted near her, eyes grazing the stall at which Amryn had parked herself up at.
"What's here?"
Amryn looked down, eyes twitching erratic, "Oh, uh, I just got here… I—"
"—it's about plants. A lot of these stalls are repetitive, I've come to realise."
"I hadn't noticed," Amryn smiled at him nervously.
Oscar was nice but strange. He somehow seemed both awkward and distracted all of the time. But when he spoke, Amryn felt his intelligence. It was muted and dignified and she could see he was trying his best to come out his shell.
"Did you wanna join me?" Amryn said without thinking. She caught her own breath, torn between which answer she longed to hear.
"Sure," Oscar answered, and Amryn sighed, still unsure.
Oscar began to tap away on the electronic screen. Amryn watched him, curious, as he silently flipped through the beginning manuals.
"Don't you want to know what they say?"
"There's no need," Oscar reassured her, "It's just a summary of what's in the journal. Toxins, edibles, defining plants by their leaves…"
Amryn was distracted, only half listening, "Sounds fun."
"Yeah, it's fun," Oscar hummed.
Amryn was trying her best. She didn't want to be rude but the more Oscar stayed with her — despite her invitation — the more she realised that she did want to be alone more than she wanted company.
That only made her feel even more bad.
"Can I have a turn?" Amryn wanted a distraction, feeling her heart racing a little too hard in her chest.
"Oh, sure," Oscar stepped aside, "Just press that button there and it'll continue where I left off."
Amryn smiled politely, stepping up to the screen. She focused on the pictures, remembering their distinct colouring and leaf shapes. She didn't even know if it would be important, but she needed something, anything…
A drop of blood imploded on the screen.
Amryn blinked as more fell and a deep, churning sensation burned up her nostrils. She didn't notice, still flicking through the manuals and absorbing as much as she possibly could.
"You're bleeding!"
Amryn came out of her fogginess to the sound of Oscar's voice. She quickly pinched the bridge of her nose, realising that the blood on the screen seemed to smear in an irregular pattern.
"You need to go to the medic," Oscar was surprisingly comforting, hands on Amryn's shoulders as he guided her across the training centre.
Amryn honestly had no clue what happened, almost as if she temporarily blacked out.
"Can I get a medic? We have a nose bleed," Oscar commanded, "Tilt your head forwards, not backwards."
Amryn watched as a sister appeared, medkit in hand. She thanked Oscar who stepped back, half-watching and half-awkwardly lingering as if he didn't know what to do next.
"Can you move your hands, please?"
"Oh, sure," Amryn did as she was told but the blood was watery, quick — the sister clamped a swab onto it.
"It's a pretty nasty one. You'll need to sit out for a bit."
It's only then that Amryn realised she wasn't the only one in the medbay area — a short girl with dark, straight hair sat at the other end, head in her hands. Amryn couldn't help but wonder why she looked so… miserable?
And I think I have it bad, Amryn reminded herself. Her parents would always say there are less fortunate people in Panem and Amryn and her siblings should always be thankful. Somehow, Amryn never realised the weight of it until now.
"I'll be back to check on you shortly."
As the sister left, the girl from the other side of the bench looked up. Her eyes were puffy and dark. It was hard to tell if she had been crying or just hadn't slept.
The girl glanced in her direction, and Amryn smiled politely, before looking away.
It didn't take long for the sister to come back, a small cup of pills in her hand. She passed them to the girl who took them eagerly, chasing them with water.
"Hopefully that'll clear your headache right up."
"Thank you," the girl rasped.
A headache? Amryn thought, I guess it's stressful. The weird food and traditions probably don't help at all.
"How did you get the nose bleed?"
Amryn blinked, "Excuse me?"
"How did you get the nose bleed?"
"Oh," Amryn's stomach knotted, "I… I don't know. It just came on…"
"So did my headache," the girl frowned, "And my district partner, Cal, he feels sick. He just didn't want to make a big deal of it."
"That's… weird coincidental," Amryn sighed, now unsure if her tight chest was down to a bout of social anxiety or illness.
"You're Amryn, right? From District Three?"
Great… Amryn's cheeks heated up, "Yeah, how did you know?"
"I… I don't know. I just feel like I've heard it before."
The whole exchange was tense and apprehensive. Amryn didn't do well with making new friends or talking to strangers. That was always down to her more outgoing siblings and friends.
The girl was still glancing at Amryn when she realised she hadn't replied, "What's your name?"
"I'm Isla," Isla nodded, her voice kind and soft.
Amryn felt terribly spacey and lost, more than usual. A myriad of unanswered questions seemed to plague her, but one in particular was prevalent. The joint realisation that Amryn, Isla, and Isla's district partner, Cal, all suddenly felt unwell.
"We need a medic!"
Another one? Amryn watched as a curly-haired, slender boy rushed across the training centre. He made it a few feet before vomit spewed from his mouth.
Isla buried her face in her hands, shielding her eyes, but Amryn was unable to look away. As the sister escorted the boy towards her, Amryn's fears only grew deeper and deeper, taking root.
What is happening to us?
Cenric Acton, District Nine Male
The vomit splashed against the sterile floor, only a few feet from where Cenric stood, mouth screwed up.
He watched with disdain as the boy who escorted into the medbay, a metal bucket placed at his feet as he continued to puke up whatever bothered him. Either side of him was flanked by a girl complaining about something.
They're just looking for attention, Cenric lambasted them.
That's the thing he quickly realised — everyone seemed so ungrateful of everything the Capitol had provided them. Limos chose them as her tributes, and in retaliation, all they did was complain.
Cenric was thankful. He knew Limos had only the best intentions for him and he would never disappoint her or her choices.
Cenric turned back from the sad, sorry sight and busied himself with the stall. He expertly cleared the minor injuries manual and how to identify herbal medicine out in the open forests, all of which he knew from his time on District Nine's fields.
Osgar always needed me, Cenric softened, fondly remembering the only person he actually cared about.
The next few hours passed by agonisingly slow. Cenric cleared every single stall that wasn't occupied. He purposely avoided any other tribute, preferring his own company. There was no point in hiding it — nobody would live up to Cenric's expectations.
"Training is up! Thank you, tributes, please head towards the elevators and return to your apartments."
Cenric was one of the first at the elevators, skirting on the edges of the group. He watched as they all filed in after him.
He scanned the mediocre group as the elevator closed.
Ares was at the front of the elevator, right by the doors, with another girl. They whispered between themselves, but it was loud enough that everyone heard.
"How do you feel? Lots of people are getting sick, you know. I wonder if it's that soup…"
"I feel okay, I think? I don't know…"
The boy standing on the far left spoke up, "Are you girls talking about the sickness?"
Cenric couldn't help but shake his head. The sickness… ludicrous.
The shorter-haired girl nodded, "Yeah, I saw about three kids in the medbay."
"I think it was the soup," the boy replied, "It's just mad funny that the soup makes us all feel… weird… and suddenly everyone is getting sick?"
"I'm not sick," Cenric spoke up.
The four pairs of eyes turned to look at him, one of which was Ares. Her eyes were wide and innocent — Cenric wasn't ambivalent towards her as much as the others, but something about her seemed to irk him all the same.
"If you seem to think the Capitol poisoned us, you're all paranoid," Cenric addressed it.
"Everyone is entitled to their opinion," the short-haired girl answered.
Cenric shook his head again, "I'm not invalidating your opinion. I'm saying that it is baseless. You have no evidence that the Capitol poisoned us."
The girl shrugged, "It would seem it is unanimous that we all shared… after-effects… of the soup and then, in quick succession, three tributes get sick and a lot more are complaining about it."
The door opened and the silent, awkward boy stuck in the middle of the conversation left, head bowed and tail between his legs.
"Are you sick?"
"What?"
"I said… are you sick?" Cenric asked, "Do you feel nauseous? Headache?"
The girls' eyes narrowed, "No, I feel fine, but that's besides—"
"—I think your stop is next, if I'm not mistaken," Cenric dismissed her and, shortly after, the doors opened.
The short-haired girl stepped out, cheeks red and eyes narrowed in annoyance. Cenric's purpose wasn't to annoy her, but the weak-minded seemed easily flustered like that.
"Have a nice evening, Ares."
"Yeah, you too, Tay," Ares mumbled timidly as the doors shut.
The boy on the far end with curly, blonde hair laughed, "You're very passive aggressive, huh?"
Cenric turned to face him, "I was stating a fact. It's not my problem that she was unable to handle it."
The boy held a smirk on his face, one that made Cenric surprisingly mad. He bit his tongue, though, despite every urge to swipe it from his face. "It would seem you're unable to have a conversation without putting in your two cents."
"Is that so?"
"I think so," the boy smiled, "I pity your mentors. It must be like talking to a brick wall."
The doors opened once more and Ares practically ran from the elevator. Cenric could see their mentors, Orville and Fallon, perched in the kitchen area.
Keep calm. He isn't worth it. He is but a speck of dust that you'll forget about when the doors close. Cenric hadn't felt so annoyed before, but the clear defiance against the Capitol and Limos — all baseless rumours — had him irked.
Cenric walked out, silent, eyes trained forwards and fingers flexing in and out of a fist.
"Have a nice evening!" the boy called from the elevator as it shut.
Luckily for Cenric, neither of his mentors were talkers. Orville barely spoke and when he did, it felt like riddles, and Fallon seemed constantly distracted and emotional. Neither felt qualified or even remotely good at their designated jobs.
"How did training go?" Fallon asked quietly, looking up.
"I'm going to bed," Cenric pushed on through.
"Cenric?"
He closed the door, shutting away Fallon's voice. He quickly got undressed and headed for a shower. As the water pelted his back, though, his throat tightened and a warm, tense sensation crossed his body.
Complete and utter slander, Cenric thought defiantly, just as his vomit hit the shower tiles.
w w w. sixfeetunderhg. blogspot. c o m.
Questions!
Who do we like the most here outta these four?
Any arcs you see forming?
We are officially 1/3 through the Capitol!
It's a bit of a slog, especially with my inconsistent updates, but I hope it's really giving you the chance to read about these tributes in order to build bonds for me to break.
We had some hints to the superpowers... very minor, but it was there... and of course, our sickness is but the start of something strange.
As always, if you have the chance to, I'd love to hear your feedback. It's always inspiring and provides me with motivation (that I'll use elsewhere, but the sentiment is still appreciated!)
~Corey.