Chapter 19: Peppa Cornac

Wolfmark Redpath feels the sudden, new lull in the Games proceedings acutely as he waits up in his suite on the 11th floor of the Citadel Hotel. Back in his day as a tribute, the Games had been so much more simple. Crueler, yes, by far, but simple. Tossed in a cattle car, locked up in a zoo enclosure for not even a day, followed by a brief sojourn in the catacombs and then you could go into the arena and start hacking.

Course, he would have loved to have had the luxury trains and the parade and the bling. But he would have loved to have kept the brevity of the Games with that as well.

Now, three days of Training have been added to the programming, held in the basement of the hotel downstairs… and Wolfmark has no clue what to do in that time. With no tributes here to coach, at least in the daylight hours, how is he supposed to fill his day?

The idea for Training all the tributes hadn't been his idea. Mags, Shrimp and Rowan had campaigned for the plan – likely because that girl from 2 last year just butchering her way through nearly half the field on her own had caused the outliers to wake up and panic. Everyone knows that Districts 1 and 2 have been secretly training their combatants for at least the last decade. That hardly seemed fair. Unless the outlier districts had a chance to groom their tributes, none of them would see another Victor again. Except these same districts couldn't afford to found training academies and pretend that that wasn't their intended purposes, the way One and Two did with that 'Who, us?' innocence. Like they thought the rest of them were idiots.

That Mags Flanagan had whipped all the Victors not from 1 and 2 into shape and taken their petition to the President. Ravinstill had suggested a solution: Unused lower levels of the Citadel Hotel would be converted in a Training Center for the tributes – all the tributes – with trainers on hand to help for three days, and the Gamemakers there to score the kids at the end. Of course, Ravinstill would see it as a way to extend the pageant, though the arena time itself had been steadily doing that just fine on its own. The Games could last for multiple weeks now, easily – nearly two was becoming the average. Close to two weeks of sitting in Control Central, with the simpleton Guernsey yapping in his ear and cuddling that ratty old green frog.

Except, now what is Wolfmark supposed to do all day until his kids come back and he can give them pointers at night over hot chocolate before bed? He could try and get on Lucky Flickerman's show for an interview, if only he had anything productive to contribute to a conversation. He could round up a couple of the gang – Gunner and Woof and Dell (and with Dell, Guernsey) and hit the streets for drinks. Nah…. Dell is probably off somewhere screwing his wife whom he only ever gets to see in the summer and who knows what the rest of the boys are up to?

Wolfmark sighs. There is still one thing he could do that would make himself useful. He doesn't like it, for it means going back there, but… He has to feel like he's doing something. And if it's helping his kids, all the better.

So thinking, he grabs a hat and shades – Capitol heatwaves really were the biggest bitch this side of the country, exits the Citadel Hotel and has the doorman hail him a cab. Wolfmark forks over a wad of sesterces to the cabbie.

"Capitol Arena. If you make it snappy, you can keep the change."

The yellow car takes off in a squeal of tires.

Wolfmark has to steel himself before entering the Arena. It wasn't nearly this noisy when he first competed. In conversations he's had with some of the originals – like Vulcan and Shrimp and the Fonios – they tell him of remembering Capitolites in the bleachers, close enough to touch, streaming in through the turnstiles even while ticket-takers called out, "A sesterce to stand! A sesterce to stand!" (that's all it cost in those days to get into the nosebleed sections; now, it takes a handful of drachmas) and concessioners hawking their wares.

The atmosphere Wolfmark enters now is probably a close equivalent to what it was like in those days that he just missed – his arena was the first to have live audiences banned. People in robes of chiffron and ladies in pretty mink coats mingle about each other in a near crunch. The Capitol Arena was domed off some time ago, so you can no longer see the sky. Without the natural lighting, the place where Wolfmark once fought for his life now more closely resembles the floor of that old New York Stock Exchange. Ever since he won and introduced the concept of Victors showered with riches, Wolfmark has always been keenly interested in finances. Probably because he had to go without so often as a child.

His knowledge of money has more recently served him well in what he has come here for. Rustling up sponsors. Wolfmark reads the room, scanning his eyes for the tell tale badges signifying financiers, hanging off the lining of suit coats or from belts. Capitol citizens have to be approved as sponsors by the government, and there's a cap on what you can individually spend to back a tribute every year. Even with the cap being the same for all, you can easily learn the signs of which sponsors have more funds… and which do not.

Wolfmark spies one of the Games' most influential backers now, nursing a drink listlessly at the bar. Putting on his most winning smile, he sidles up to her.

"Ashley Twinkle! Fancy seeing you here!"

The woman with alabaster skin molded into a heart-shaped face and framed by flowing brown hair turns to him mid-sip and nearly chokes on her swallow of liquor.

"Wolfmark Redpath!" Ashely's eyes positively shine as she grips his hand, star-struck. "What an honor! But what brings you by?"

"Tell you over a round?" Wolfmark flirtatiously seizes the opening. "I buy."

Her answering grin is pleased and eager.

Before long, they're both tipsy, and when Ashley is particularly loose-lipped, Wolfmark tries to ply out of her an endorsement for his girl. Miss Twinkle, however, demures.

"I don't know, darling… I like the strong, dark types that come out of your district as much as the next donor, but none of them have been incredible as you." She squeezes his bicep sultrily. "And besides, I promised Mags and Poseidon a small stipend on their boy – he is quite a looker, I must say…"

Wolfmark wrestles down a desire to storm out of this godforsaken place to kick Poseidon Waverunner up one side of the Avenue of Tributes and down the other. He channels all his frustrated energy into a 'come-on' smile instead. "You'd be wise to peruse him, Ashley, very wise indeed! But they say these new Training Scores from the Gamemakers are going to show who really has a chance, and in another night or two…" He smirks at how her eyes darken on the word 'night.' "…. You'll be wanting to back my girl, cause she's a legitimate contender!"

Ashley Twinkle purses her lips in thought. "I might have 300, 350 sesterces to lay down as an installment – you know me, Wolfmark, I like to spread my bets wide… but only if her score impresses me."

Wolfmark beams and kisses her cheek; she giggles like a schoolgirl. "You won't be sorry, Ashley girl!"

And he likes to hope Ashley Twinkle isn't sorry, for the following night, Lucky Flickerman announces the Training Score returns.

"Now folks, this is as new to me as it is to all of us. Here are the parameters. The Gamemakers have granted each tribute a score of 1 to 12. That's a 12-point scale, signifying from how least to how most likely that tribute will win the Games. Bearing that in mind, let us begin with Garnet Pearl from District 1…"

All four Careers tie each other with 10s, which surprises Wolfmark, but also relieves him. With the reputation One and Two have been building, he would have thought to see scores of 11 or 12. Still…. 10 is good. He doesn't let himself pay much attention to the others, and they don't give him a reason to – although the girl from 6 actually does decent with a score of 8; Wolfmark had heard that Acacia is running point for those tributes, who have yet to nab a Victor of their own. The same way that Dell always looks after Guernsey's crop as well as his own. The boy from 12, whose one Victor went missing right after her Games, doesn't do too shabby either, with a score of 7.

But before that, Lucky reads the scores for Wolfmark's kids: "For District 11, we have Peppa Cornac, with a score of…. 9."

9!

Wolfmark claps a hand over the shoulder of the scowling 16-year-old seated next to him. She's impatient, he can tell, and also more than a little competitive. She's right behind the Careers. His boy, Till, is a bit of a downer when he only manages a 6, but that's OK. It's something to work with. Peppa, meanwhile, is only behind the Careers.

Leaning over to her, Wolfmark whispers:

"Give the Careers a reason to fear you."

Sixteen days later (not including the day of prep and night of interviews for Caesar), Wolfmark has become about as impatient as his headstrong, stormy girl.

The traditional Final Four has become stuck at the Final Five this year, with Peppa, Mags' and Poseidon's boy from 4, the boy from 5, the girl from 6 and the boy from 12 scattered across the windy hills and seashore cliffs. The green of the grass is almost too bright to be real.

Around mid-morning, Acacia had heard a rumor that most of the sponsors this year are tapped out. A few seats down from him, Savera drops her head in a hand with a groan. Though she and Woof no longer have skin in the game, she is clearly just as anxious to finish this as everyone else is.

"Can the Gamemakers please just call a Feast or something? What are they waiting for?"

Wolfmark isn't sure, but a Feast might be nice to separate the strongest wheat from the weakest chaff. He stares at the screen showing his girl. With the sun setting, the grassy cliff sides get bitterly cold at night. Peppa had been smart to try and take shelter behind one particularly large hill to create a buffer from the wind chill, but now even that isn't having much effect as the Gamemakers drop the temperature lower and lower like daredevils. There hasn't been any bloodshed, much less a fight of any sort, in four days.

Worse still, Peppa is now on the last bread roll Wolfmark sent her. That was over a week ago, and though he's proud of her for making it last, unless something moves soon.

Wolfmark winces as kiddie music suddenly blares in his ear. Guernsey is on his iPad again, watching the same episode of that stupid dancing purple dinosaur for the thirtieth time in a row. Dell says cartoons keep the guy calm, but this is getting ridiculous! And besides, Wolfmark has more important things to do.

"Hyde, either turn that volume down, or plug in those headphones! Fonio gave them to you for a reason!" Wolfmark barks. He can feel the heat of the glares sent his way by both Dell and Acacia, but he could give a damn what the husband-and-wife team think. He stands in a huff and shucks on a windbreaker, knowing he'll sweat in it on the walk down to the Capitol Arena but he feels he'll be closer to his girl that way. Solidarity. "I gotta pay a call. Someone page me if anything happens."

He finds Ashley Twinkle right where he expected her to be – at the bar. He puts on his best charmer smile, but it doesn't feel natural, and it certainly doesn't reach up to his eyes. His eyes, in fact, are more pleading than anything else.

"Ivy-Fonio from 7 says most of you guys have maxed your funds. I just know you're one of the sensible folk who's folded some cards."

Twinkle arches a lofty eyebrow. Gone is the giggling little schoolgirl who had her hands all over him the first day of Training. "You need something for your girl."

"Something for warmth – blanket. Matches, as much as you can get me!" He hates how he sounds so desperate.

Now, Ashley Twinkle runs a hand down his bicep. "If I keep her warm… you'll have to keep me warm."

Wolfmark sighs. He's heard things from Amber Fairsmith about what powerful people can extract from you, but for Peppa, it's worth it.

Besides, he has some frustration still left to vent out.

Wolfmark fucks Ashley long and rough in his private quarters at the Citadel Hotel, and by the time he finally pulls out and flips her on her stomach so he can ram her tight, shapely ass, she's gasping for breath.

"Wolffy! You beast!" And then she howls when he jerks himself into her ass cheeks. "Oh, FUCK! Yes, YES! I'll give her anything she wants!"

Wolfmark pauses mid-thrust. "Anything?"

Ashley whimpers happily and nods. "Blankets, matches – all hers, but only if you finish me off like a good little boy!"

Oh, does he ever!

By the time he gets back to Control Central, Xander Chip nearly attacks him at the drink cooler.

"THERE you are! You f'ing missed it! Shrimp's boy took down Mags' at one of the cliff edges! Then – get this, I shit you not – District 6 shoves him so he follows Four over!"

Wolfmark flings himself over to his console. "Where's Peppa?"

"Still behind her hill…." Looking over his shoulder, Xander's eyes go huge. "Holy shit! Acacia! I thought you said all the donors were tapped out!"

Acacia can only shake her head in befuddled disbelief as a parachute floats down to where Peppa is curled up in the fetal position, shivering violently. When the sponsor gift touches the earth, Peppa rolls over to it and digs a shaking hand inside.

When she sees what she comes up with, an invigorating life overtakes her. With no kindling gathered because there's no trees to be had on this grassy knoll, Peppa takes one of the matches and lights a section of earth ablaze. The small fire will see her through the night for now.

Only one problem: the blaze she's set doesn't intend on staying small.

As her campfire turns into a raging inferno, spurned on by the wind, Peppa has no choice but to turn and run for her life. Soon most of the hills and cliffs are inundated. District 6 gets cornered in one ring of flames and tries to run through it, alighting herself. Burning up, she casts herself off the edge of one of the cliffs with a scream.

Wolfmark glances to the empty District 12 seat next to him, where that Lucy Gray Baird girl should be. Even if he loses Peppa in a Top Two heartbreaker, the one silver lining might be he'll get a neighbor who isn't as annoying as Guernsey Hyde to his left.

District 11 versus District 12, now for the Crown. Wolfmark doesn't fail to notice how the Gamemakers deftly increase the wind speed, alter its direction, guiding the fire that Peppa has offered up to them. The two tributes are thus driven to a grassy peak, overlooking the craggy rocks and tempestuous waves below.

Twelve comes at his girl with a jian – a literal double-edged sword – but Peppa shows no fear as she bravely matches the boy (large for a fifteen-year-old) blow for blow with her claymore. She lands a critical cut on his left, dominant leg, bringing the Twelve boy down to his knees with a howl. At last, Peppa wrests his sword away and crosses them at her opponent's neck, jian on claymore. The terrified boy tries to stand and tackle her in a last-ditch effort, but too late. She beheads him in one, clean stroke, then lets the flames creeping up the slope claim his corpse.

BOOM. The cannon fires and Peppa Cornac is announced as District 11's second Victor.

Wolfmark doesn't acknowledge the clasped shoulders and murmurings of, "Congratulations," – even from the Careers, because never let it be said that they're unsportsmanlike, at least at the endgame. All he does is curl into himself and weep with relief and gratitude. Gratitude that he is no longer alone.

If he had to bed a Capitol tart to get that… well, it was worth every sesterce.