"What a shame we all became such fragile, broken things
A memory remains, just a tiny spark.
This is how we'll dance when
When they try to take us down.
This is what we'll be.
Oh, glory."
- Paramore, "Let the flames begin"
Gritting his teeth, the pilot struggled to keep the hovercraft level as he searched for the mysterious glint in the trainyard. Sunlight bathed the landscape of crisscrossing steel tracks and grey ballast with a dull glow, and he repositioned his craft to get a better angle.
"Wilson, do you see him? Right behind the traincar."
His weapons officer squinted through the glare of the midday sun.
"He's there with the binoculars, two of them, definitely from the Capitol."
"Shit, is that a rocket launcher?"
Despite the threat, the pilot's voice remained steady on the radio.
"Phoenix, Phoenix, positive ID on the last two guys. They've fled to the trainyard, putting optics on us. Armed with rocket launchers."
At once, the reply from HQ cut a frazzled tone.
"Blue Four! If they're carrying weapons light them the fuck up!"
A bead of perspiration fell from Wilson's chin as he spun up the autocannons.
"Copy, Phoenix. Weapons tight. Guns, guns, guns."
The hovercraft shuddered as 30-millimeter rounds burst through the traincar and shredded the two men into a red cloud of blood and guts. Bits of gravel clattered upon their craft as the guns fell silent. He swung around to survey the flaming, gaping crater in the ground, and saw an ugly red scrawl in the asphalt.
"Blue Four, Phoenix. Targets suppressed."
The HQ's voice fell back into its monotonous tone, "Copy, Blue Four. Operation Prism secured. Return to Base."
"You have to tell me what you did with them," Paylor whispered into her ear.
The morning sun gleamed off the girl's red hair and the city circle's white cobblestone as battalions of peacekeepers and soldiers paraded before Panem's interim government, watching from the parapet. Tanks and armoured vehicles rumbled past, their commanders saluting her from the open hatches.
"Look - we know this entire week has taken its toll on you," Paylor continued, "but you need to tell me what happened."
Her fists clenched upon the gilded metal railing when the troops marched to a halt, and turned. In the back of her mind, she saw herself just a year ago on the city circle, in a chariot, in a god-awful outfit, being paraded to her death. The memory of her outstretched arms waving to the Capitolites as she silently pleaded with them to save her, drove a nail of grief deeper into her heart. Just a year later, she stood in Snow's position, while the men who supported her rise to power snapped to attention, and saluted her.
Paylor's voice turned ice-cold, "At least tell me where you buried them so I'd know where not to look-"
"What do you take me for?" the girl seethed, not looking at Paylor, "Another Snow? Another Coin? A textbook dictatorial tyrant?"
"I'm only going off the rumours-"
"What fucking rumours?" she spat, "In this goddamned world of politics and propaganda: One lie becomes two. Two becomes four. Before long I'm a venom-spewing dragon with flames for wings and serpents for tails."
"Well, if you could be transparent about-"
"I could be transparent if you believed me," the girl snarled, turning to stare Paylor in the face, "they're alive. I arrested all of them and scattered them throughout the district labour camps. Sentences vary between five to ten years. Parole after half. A few of them fought back and-"
The girl looked down at her feet, as Boggs' booming voice echoed around the city circle.
"And I authorised the rules of engagement to allow for lethal force. So I assume they're dead. You have to understand why I was so hard on them. I cannot allow the risk of a unified insurgency gaining momentum and plunging this nation back into Civil War."
"Fair enough, that wasn't so hard now, was it?"
She looked down at Boggs standing at attention, rendering the sharpest salute he could muster, as Cressida handed her a microphone, and began filming. The ranks of armed men and dozens of tanks behind them emanated a foreboding aura. She pondered how many of them would kill her without hesitation, given the chance.
"They tell me this is a victory parade," she addressed the men, her frail voice echoing around the circle, "but our struggle for Panem is far from over. As this country stabilises, some of you will undoubtedly be demobilised. To lead long, industrious lives, full of peace, and prosperity. It is my hope that you will never again see the ravages of war or poverty…"
Her voice trailed off, as she struggled to regain her composure.
"All of you risked your lives to help me in my quest for a Panem where we wouldn't have to depend on the odds being in our favour. I couldn't have asked for anything more from you. Some of you may disagree with my vision. I couldn't have asked for anything more either. I don't expect every one of you to agree with me. Only to keep this country in your hearts, no matter who the leader is."
A mixed formation of District 13 and Capitol hovercraft thundered over the circle at the end of her speech. She kept a hand on the hem of her turquoise dress as it fluttered in the downwash, and managed to render the men one last salute, before heading inside. Despite being much taller than the girl, Paylor struggled to keep up with her as they made their way towards the legislative chambers.
"Is there anything else you're hiding from me?" Paylor asked.
She stopped in her tracks, fists bunched, and shot her an annoyed glare, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Please, please help me out here," Paylor pleaded, "I've never run an entire country before!"
"Newsflash, neither did I-"
"You're different," Paylor said, placing her hands on the girl's shoulders, "you know so much, plan so far ahead, taking into account everything predictable and unpredictable at the same time-"
The girl sighed, "Sometimes I don't know what's worse. Snow's apparent incompetence at governing a country, or knowing that he knew how to do it well, and deliberately ran Panem into the ground. I'm not that much of a genius, just someone who's unravelling the mess."
Her questions unanswered, Paylor stood there with trembling lips, quietly begging the girl for some help. She realised there was just too much going on, but still searched her brain for something to tell her.
"You absolutely, absolutely, have to keep an eye on the Capitol economy," she said, placing a palm on Paylor's chest to drive home the point, "if you read the three-year plan I drew up, the Capitol economy should go into a massive recession after the first year, which is just about when your term will end. You cannot let the prospect of re-election take away the price controls I've recommended. It's the only way they can recover from this."
Paylor stood there for a few seconds, her jaw ajar.
"How on earth do you know all this?"
They both turned at Cressida's camera crew approaching them.
"President-elect Paylor, the house is ready to receive you-"
The look on the girl's face flashed into a smirk, and she followed after Cressida before Paylor could quiz her further. Without so much as a warning, Cressida flung open the chamber doors, and the girl stepped through into a crescendo of applause and bright lights that nearly blew her head off. From the rostrum, she looked down at the elected house of representatives, put together by hasty snap elections organised over the past week, and did her best to give a sheepish wave to the people who'd be taking over Panem from her.
It took a full minute for the ovation to die down, and once again, she found herself ill-prepared to speak to a crowd.
"Members of the house, I am honoured to come before you, for the first and last time in Panem's history. It has been an utmost privilege to govern this country for a short seven days, and it was proposed that from time to time, the future leaders of Panem will stand before this house to give a summary on the state of this country - as a matter of principle and accountability to the millions of people depending upon us.
Hence, it is my pleasure to report that all means of labour and production have returned to pre-war levels, and the country is well on its way towards building secondary sectors in under-developed districts, ready for a strong, diversified and export-oriented economy. Panem is safe and secure against all internal threats, and work on infrastructure and social programmes long abandoned since the dark days - has been started. These will be factored into a balanced budget which focuses on both austerity and investment for the future generations.
In the past week, three new government ministries have been established, reflecting key areas which were neglected in the previous decades: the Ministry of Health and Social Services, the Ministry of Education, which will oversee the annual Games of Plenty, and the National Environment Board, which will take over part of the Interior Ministry's portfolio, including conservation of the old Arenas, as a commemoration to the children who died there.
Though I wish I could've done more for this country, I thank you all, for believing in this model of governance, and for trusting in me despite my youth. I'd like to thank President-elect Paylor as well, for taking up this elected position on short notice. The burden of deciding a new direction for this country now rests upon her shoulders, and the shoulders of everyone gathered here today. Therefore, please support her, and each other, in the next chapter of our country's future.
Long live Panem."
There was nothing else she had in mind to say. There was nothing else she wanted to say. She stepped off the rostrum to thunderous applause and cheering, still looking at the men and women who had decades of experiences ahead of her, and wondered how on earth a country of millions could've trusted her like this.
The camera's attention turned to the Minister of Justice and Peace, who took his position to swear Paylor into office as President of Panem. Without time to rehearse the ceremony prior, she looked for a place to retreat away from the limelight. Off the stage's side, three rows of twelve seats awaited her, with familiar faces occupying them. An empty chair was amongst them, calling out her name.
The Elders of Panem.
Drawn to it like nails to a magnet, she slipped in amongst the former victors as the house fell silent, shaking hands with Lyme, Beetee and Finnick on the way in. They were seated by district, sorted by age, so she took her place between Mags and Hertha.
The house sat down as soon as Paylor was sworn in. As she sank into the chair and watched President Paylor take the stage for the inauguration address, relief washed over her with such intensity that her eyes fluttered shut. Here, within the ranks of her fellow victors, she could finally shed her facade, and disappear behind their collective wisdom.
Hertha grasped her hand. The sensation merely a dull throb as respite spread through her senses.
"You did it," Hertha whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry for doubting you, you actually fucking did it."
A smile spread across her face, as she sank further into the leather chair. Slowly, she felt the thousands of knots that'd been left tangled around her chest coming undone, one by one. She sucked in a deep breath, amazed at how easily she could breathe for the first time in six months.
That's right, you bitch, she thought.
I did it.
Her eyes widened at the plate of pasta placed before her. Rabbit ragu with tagliatelle and carrots. The Avox girl serving her at the inauguration ball lingered for a moment, and the girl looked up to see her signing.
THEY SAY YOU KNOW HOW TO SIGN?
She smiled, and signed back,
YES, MY FATHER TAUGHT ME-
The Avox pointed at the plate
THE CAPITOL ATTENDANTS TOLD US THAT THIS IS YOUR FAVOURITE MEAL. WE MADE THIS FOR YOU, AS A GRATITUDE FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE FOR US.
She shook her hand, signing back,
YOU HAVE DONE SO MUCH. OVER THE NEXT YEAR, MOST OF YOU WILL BE RETURNED BACK TO YOUR DISTRICTS. IT IS YOUR CHOICE. THANK YOU FOR THE FOOD TONIGHT.
Her short interaction with the Avox had invigorated her appetite, neglected over the past week. For once, she felt famished, and the plate of pasta disappeared down her mouth quickly. She even helped herself to a glass of wine Ray had poured for her, eliciting a grin of satisfaction from her mentor. The sensation of being fed relaxed her further, and she allowed her eyes to wander around the ball.
The event had been dialed down from the usual ostentatiousness which usually accompanied Capitol celebrations. Still, the large open square hosting it afforded a clear view of the calm night sky, though without any of the stars that stole her breath in District 12. On stage, a single singer from District 4 crooned an ancient melody from long before the dark days, while musicians from District 2 followed with string instruments.
President Paylor was in the midst of them all, arms linked with her husband, who resembled a mighty oak tree. Her five children looked on from the tables - and the girl silently breathed her thanks to Paylor; a woman who had so much to lose, but still took on the burden of Panem.
Her own parents were locked in a tight embrace - like they'd both lost and found each other after a year of searching.
Finnick and Annie swayed like a pair of palm fronds as they danced, eyes mesmerised in each other's gazes.
At the last minute, she'd remembered to extend an invite to Prim, who was watching the dance from her mother's lap. Mrs Everdeen's bony fingers clung onto her daughter, like she was the last thing on earth which mattered to her.
The girl fiddled with the pleats of her turquoise dress. The same dress soaked in blood during the failed kidnapping in District 8, soaked in seawater in District 4, soaked in the Capitolites' adulation during the victory banquet. It'd held so many painful memories, but wasn't it her goal to transform terrible things for the better, anyway?
Opening the powder compact Hertha had given her, she examined her own reflection: the once lifeless eyes, now with the slightest spark of hope dancing within. She knew full well she had changed irretrievably, but even if it were so, there was one last person she'd wish would never change.
She didn't recognise the woman entering the venue at first; in a dark evening gown so far departed from anything she'd ever worn. But there was no mistaking the way she made her chest clench with longing. The girl found herself floating from her chair, and trotting across the square, drawn to the brunette as they spotted each other.
Still, in the middle of all the dancing couples, she stopped an arm's length from Gase. Like the first time they met after the games. Afraid - that the person who stood before her was an illusion and might shatter into pieces anytime.
"Y-you're alright," she whispered, voice barely rising above the music.
Gase's skin had paled in her comatose week, and her cheekbones were gaunt. The fire of life blazed in her brown eyes.
"They only let me out an hour ago," Gase said.
"And you came right here? You remembered me?"
"H-how on earth could I forget someone like you?" Gase said, her voice quivering.
In the corner of her eye, she noticed Cressida directing Pollux to film them both, but there was nothing on earth that could distract her from this moment.
Gase bit on her lip, "Looks like there's a dance going on. Shall we?"
Without a word, she allowed Gase to slip her arms around her waist. The same arms that kept her safe at night, now held her tight. There was a noticeable tremor in her spine as they moved in tandem. The girl whispered against Gase's jaw, "How are you feeling? I hope this isn't too much, too so-"
"I ran here in heels and a dress," Gase answered, sinking her face into the girl's hair, "I don't think one little dance is going to put me away."
The pleats of her mint dress flared as Gase twirled her around. There were still a million unanswered questions between them, but still - they soaked in the sheer sensation of closeness between them.
"You never told me this was going to be your plan," Gase gasped, tears brimming in her eyes, "I just went along with it because I trusted you so much."
"I did this, so that we could have a future together. A future that didn't depend on names in a bowl, or when the next bread truck would come, or who was going to get shot in the townsquare. I did this so that others could have this future as well."
"Don't you know? I'll gladly take any goddamned future as long as you are in it."
Fingers intertwined, she looked up into Gase's eyes, awestruck by the utter sincerity in her words. A part of her guilt-stricken soul wondered how Gase could love such a trainwreck like her; but like every other doubt she had, faded away with the warmth of her embrace. The girl stood on the tips of her toes, not caring that she was kissing another girl in view of the cameras, and the entire nation.
After all, she'd just destroyed an institution which murdered 23 children for entertainment every year. So, how harmful could kissing another girl be, really?
"You taste the same," Gase whispered against her lips.
The girl's heart fluttered, wishing this moment could last forever. But there were still so many things unspoken between them.
"I'm not the same girl you knew a week ago."
"I don't care," Gase answered, fingers tracing the curve of her jaw.
"You risked your life for me!" the girl seethed, tightening her grasp on Gase's waist, and causing the woman to wince beneath the strain, "you didn't have to do that - I could've lost you there and then!"
"That's nothing," Gase whispered back, "I would've died a million times just to hear you breathe again."