Chapter 3: War Council in the Victor's Mansion

The Victors' Village – and in particular, its one, occupied mansion – has been declared neutral territory in the feud between the Seamers and the Townies. Rye Mellark and his crowd have almost always been able to convince old Haymitch Abernathy to throw open his doors and let them hang out in his sprawling estate, even more so once Peeta had left the Townies and taken a job with the old geezer. As a retired war-fighter himself, one who had allegedly taken out a few Careers on his way to winning a Quarter Quell worth two arenas, the Townies figure Haymitch understands the need to have a place to go and discuss alliances amongst themselves, or ruminate on terms of combative engagement with the Seamers. For having the Victor's property as neutral territory is ideal precisely because it isn't monitored by the Peacekeepers. An officer might patrol at the base of Victors' Hill, but they've never been known to physically enter the Village. Thus, a place of total privacy for dealings.

This is where the Townies meet now, to regroup while waiting for Gale and his Seamer friends to show up. The Harvest Festival ended with some confusion – talk of an altercation between Rye and Gale over the latter's cousin, of all things has been permeating amidst the Townies, but Rye has yet to give a word of confirmation. All he has said is that the war council was set – apparently, Hawthorne was quite eager to accept the invitation.

Watching them from the edge of his rec room, as the boys hustle a game of pool, Haymitch Abernathy knocks one back, more than a little worried. "You sure you wanna do this, boy-os? Play-act like Careers? This ain't no arena. Why, when I was your age…."

Action flings a dart into the dartboard on the wall. "Will you knock it off with that crap, Abernathy! When you was my age, when my old man was my age – you was never my age, and the sooner you get that, the sooner you'll dig us!"

The front door leading into the foyer opens, then a horde of feet as Gale and his crew march into the mansion. The groups set about pulling up chairs, always making sure a full table separates them. Rye and Mellark face each other across one, each the front-man at the head of two clusters which are now eyeing one another mistrustfully.

Gale has been steaming ever since he caught his little cousin openly kissing a Townie boy in the shadows of the Victor statues during the Harvest Festival tonight. He'd spent much of the walk home ranting and raving to his mother about it; Hazelle had admonished him that Catnip was still a young girl and this was her first night out – though, from her tone, she was also more than a little wary on behalf of her niece.

He tries to put it out of his mind when this oaf Rye Mellark starts speaking to him. "We challenge you to a rumble. All-out, once and for all."

"On what terms?"

"Whatever terms you call. You've crossed the line once too often. Who jumped Damien today at the school?"

"Who jumped me the first day I tried to trade with you?!" Gale shoots back.

"Seam trash!"

"Whitey rich boys!"

"Coal cunts!"

There is a scraping of chairs as both groups lunge for one another, and only the cooler heads of Gale and Rye hold them back. Everyone lowers back into their seats skittishly.

"We accept," Gale growls measuredly.

"Time," Rye gets right down to business.

"Tomorrow."

"After dark." Gale and Rye silently shake on it.

"Place?"

"The Slag Heap?" Gale floats.

Mist silently shakes his head in Rye's direction, prompting his leader to throw out an alternative. "The Meadow." Never mind that it's beyond the fence – there are ways around that, but Gale is already shaking his head.

"Under the railway bridge – the one leading to the coal depots."

It's an acceptable answer, and Gale and Rye shake on it again.

"Weapons," Rye prompts.

At that moment, the front door bangs open and Peeta jogs into the mansion, face windswept and flushed. He's practically glowing, skipping. "Hey, Haymitch….!"

He pulls up short when he sees the war council going on, and his eyes immediately lock onto the cold ones of Gale Hawthorne. Across from the broad Seam boy, Rye tenses, fearing for his baby brother even as he beckons him to join their group. "Weapons," Rye prompts again, forcing Gale to resume his focus on the matter at hand. "You call."

"Your challenge," Gale concedes with a conciliatory smile about as genuine as a Career's desire for peace.

"What's the matter – afraid to call?" Actions jeers, prompting chuckles.

Gale lays down a suggestion, with Rye countering. Back and forth the debate goes.

"Rocks."

"Belts."

"Pipes."

"Cans."

"Bricks."

"Bats!"

"Clubs!"

"Chains!"

"Bottles! Knives! Guns!" Peeta's voice is high in its mockery, prompting all the others to look at him. "…. What a coop full of chickens!"

"Who you calling 'chicken'?" Action scowls.

"You! Every one of you! You're worse than Haymitch's geese!" Peeta shucks off his suitcoat. "Big, tough buddy-boys have to throw bricks, huh? Afraid to get in close, like the real tributes do? 'Fraid to slug it out? 'Fraid to use plain skin?"

"That ain't a rumble!" Action whines.

"Who says?" Rye looks dubious.

"You called weapons…" Gale tries to get them back on topic, but Peeta isn't done.

"A rumble can be clinched by a fair fight – if you've got the guts to risk that!" Peeta insists. "Best man from each gang to slug it out!"

Now, Gale looks interested, rising out of his chair to face Peeta directly. "I would…. enjoy to risk that challenge. OK – fair fight!"

There is an instant uproar from the Townies, but Rye waves them down. "The commanders say Yes or No!" A pause, and then Rye holds out his hand. "Fair fight." And he and Gale shake.

"When I get through with you…" Gale turns back to Peeta. "You will be like a deer after skinning."

"Our best man versus your best man…" Rye growls. "And… we pick him." He taps Mist on the shoulder, who rises with strength.

Gale looks momentarily frazzled. "But I thought it would be…" He stares at Peeta.

"You shook on it!" Rye reminds him, one eyebrow cocked.

Gale has no choice. "I did shake on it…." But he does not look happy about it.

"Look, Hawthorne," Action scoffs. "If you wanna…."

A piercing whistle alerts them to someone, an intruder, approaching. The Peacekeepers don't normally dare venture into the Village, but the warring tribes ditch the evidence of their war council anyway, pushing chairs together and falling into a feigned atmosphere of camaraderie and companionship. Sure enough, moments later, Head Peacekeeper Thread actually strides into Haymitch's mansion. He surveys the scene and actually makes his best attempt at a pleased smile.

"Now this is more like it…" In the next instant, however, he overturns an empty chair so hard that one of its legs splinters. "All right! THAT'S IT! Seam rats out of here!"

Gale barely suppresses an eyeroll. It's always his Seamers that are kicked out first. Still noticing some attitude, Thread brandishes his gun, so that it's in clear view. Gale takes the hint. With a jerk of his head, the Seamers file out, whistling the Panemian national anthem as they go. As soon as their voices have carried far down Victors' Hill, Thread turns back to the Townies, who are now stonily silent. Peeta and Haymitch hang back, exchanging uncertain glances.

"All right…. where's the rumble gonna be? I know damn well you didn't come up here just to drink Abernathy's booze and be all slummy with the coal rats…" Dead quiet. "Come on…. where's it gonna be? The Slag Heap? Back of the mine shafts? Hey, I'll tell you what: you let me in on the time and the place, and I'll make an appearance, shall I? I'll help you drive Hawthorne and his dirt off." When no answers are forthcoming, Thread kicks over another empty chair and starts shouting. "You're no better than those miners! Your looks don't matter none to me! You're all the same! You're all district scum! And it shows: you don't fall far from the tree…." Thread's beady eyes shift, fishing around for someone to land on, and he does. "Your daddy still drown himself at Ripper's stall in the Hob, Mist?" A vein in Mist's neck bulges, but he keeps his temper in control.

The same can't be said for Thread's next target. "How's the action on your mother's mattress, Action?"

It takes Rye, Mist, Damien Cartwright and Peeta to all hold Action back as he actually dares to lunge furiously towards the Head Peacekeeper. Thread nearly dances away, cackling, before he spits on the ground and stomps out of the mansion in disgust.

Haymitch throws the Townies out not long afterwards; only Peeta stays behind to help the old man clean up.

"Where the hell were you all evening, boy? Couple minutes slower and the rumble would have torn right through my damn house!"

Peeta can't hide his grin. "I was with a girl – a wonderful girl, Haymitch! She's just astounding!"

"Yeah? Who? Delly Cartwright?"

"Nah, even better! Sings like an angel, and can shoot like no one else! Katniss Everdeen, the Healer's daughter!"

Haymitch nearly drops his half-finished liquor bottle. "You mean Belley's girl?! Sweetheart? But she's… she's Hawthorne's cousin!" Something dawns on the old drunk. "That's why he was so eager to fight with you! He didn't catch you kissing or fucking her, did he?"

Peeta seems supremely unconcerned by this, shrugging his shoulders. "Just a kiss at the Harvest Festival, but he won't know I'm seeing her."

Haymitch eyes the lad dubiously. "I wish I could believe you…"

Peeta just smirks. "You need to relax, you old coot! Seamers ain't no Careers, and a skin-on-skin rumble sure as hell isn't a Bloodbath at the Cornucopia! Katty girl and I got it fixed. Made! Just you wait and see!" And he bounds out of the mansion to the washed-up Victor staring at his retreating back.