Maximus Decimus from District 2
Victor of the Twenty-First Annual Hunger Games
To put it short, Maximus Decimus was a boy who did everything the hard way.
It was a mindset he learned from his ancestors. His family claimed to be descended from the Ancient Romans, the incredible scholars and soldiers who'd built up a mighty empire that lived for centuries. That was thousands of years before the Great Disaster; before the oceans swelled, ashes fell instead of snow, and human civilization was all-out destroyed by wars over water and arable land.
These days, the supercontinent once known as Afro-Eurasia was called the Dark Lands. It was barren, burning, and almost devoid of human life. It was true that some people lived outside of Panem, but they fought for themselves in total anarchy. Rome had been completely destroyed by the rising waters, but its memory lived on in the Decimus family and especially in their son Maximus.
If there was extra work to be done, he took it. If there was an opportunity to test his sheer skill, he never failed to take it up. Maximus sat down every night and read the old scrolls carefully preserved in the library of the Decimus mansion. They were written in a long-lost language but were nonetheless awe-inspiring. The Romans, truly, never did anything the easy way either.
At the reaping of the twenty-first annual Hunger Games, Maximus waited with feverish excitement. The escort wobbled onto the stage in her mountainous heels and started running through the pre-reaping pleasantries, but Maximus was too busy dying from anticipation to listen up.
District 2 had produced three victors in the past, but only one of them was still alive. Everyone swore the role of District 2 male was cursed somehow; why else would Lancaster and Ajax have both died within a year of winning? But not all of 2's victors were dead. Tyrell Crowley, victor of the third annual Hunger Games, must have been fortune's favorite, because he was still very much alive. Maximus watched him saunter onto the stage with a kind of awed respect. He'd made it. He'd accomplished the goal that dozens of academy students dreamed of reaching every year.
After the mayor's speech, the escort drew a female name. "Ma…"
"I volunteer as tribute!"
It was Sabina Grant, the academy student that had been chosen as this year's female volunteer. Maximus had a mixed opinion on Sabina. Sure, she could be prissy, but she was a fierce warrior. That was a Roman's greatest pride. Not that Sabina shared any of his values; she wouldn't be caught dead being compared to anybody else, even in a flattering way.
"What's your name, sweetie?"
"Sabina Grant," she said with a sour face. She did not enjoy being called sweetie.
The escort didn't press on with the questioning. She just zipped over to the boys' reaping ball, and Maximus' heart was beating like a jackhammer, and he was pretty sure he was going to explode from excitement before the name was even drawn.
Maximus thought of memorable District 2 tributes from years past. There were many to pick from, but they had one thing in common: they made a great first impression. Either they stood stoic and proud, or they spoke very clearly, or they just radiated confidence from the moment they volunteered. In the Hunger Games, a great first impression was extremely important.
So, of course, Maximus did the complete opposite.
"Ummm… I guess I volunteer as tribute," he cried out in a girly falsetto voice.
Nervous laughs rang from within the crowd.
"Well, come up, please," said the escort.
Maximus pounced out of the audience, waving his arms like a crazy person, the stupidest smile in Panem plastered across his face. Step one of winning the Hunger Games the hard way: check.
"And what's your name, sweetie?"
"Uh… uh…" He droned on for a while, twirling his hair like a little girl. "My name is, like, Maximus Decimus. Or something."
"Maximus Decimus?" she repeated, dumbfounded with shock. Apparently, she hadn't expected such an intimidating name from a tribute with such… antics.
"That's me, girl! Maximus!"
The crowd had burst into laughter by this point, but Maximus didn't mind. It would be way too easy to win if he'd made the crowd feel intimidated. And Maximus Decimus never did anything the easy way!
In the training center, Maximus stayed far away from the other careers. He did complete a station or two with Sabina, but for the most part he stayed away from the other academy students. It would be too easy to win if he joined the career pack, so he decided to go solo. In his mind, this was perfect reasoning.
The pair from District 1, Robust and Fiesta, were in hysterics as they watched Maximus lumber around the training center, acting like an idiot. The gamemakers were laughing too, unable to contain their glee as they watched the boy from District 2 fall short of every other tribute. This had to be some kind of joke, they whispered among themselves. Maximus was nothing but entertainment for them.
For the untrained tributes, though, he was a source of incredible confusion. What in Panem – no, what in the flooded world – was going on with this young man? Was he mentally ill? Or was he just an idiot? And if he was either of those things, why had he been chosen to volunteer?
Of course, Maximus was hiding a ton of skill under his sleeves. He could use a sword and a spear like nobody's business, and he would most certainly make this clear once the games began. For now, though, he was trying to make the games as difficult as possible for himself. That called for desperate measures.
"It's for laughs," Robust from 1 said at lunch that day. "He's pretending to be an idiot to attract attention. That's the only explanation."
"That's so stupid, though," the boy from 4, Furler, complained.
"You got a better theory?"
He didn't, but his district partner Krilla did.
"He's drunk. Or high," she suggested. "Maybe his mentor Tyrell slipped him some morphling."
"He didn't," Sabina said. "I'm from his district. He's been acting dumb ever since the reaping."
Robust took a bite of his lunch cheese. "Did you go the academy together? In District 2?"
She nodded.
"What was he like?"
"Normal, I don't know. This isn't how he normally is."
Fiesta, the girl from 1, took a friendlier approach. She walked up to Maximus on the second training day and asked to shake hands. He complied, but his grip was hard and emotionless. Clearly, he was adamantly against forming bonds with the other careers.
"Your name is Maximus, right?"
"Like, yeah." The girly voice again.
Fiesta suppressed a giggle. "You're very peculiar, Maximus."
"Of course I am," he said, belly laughing. "I'm the stupidest Roman you've ever seen!"
Fiesta stormed back to her allies, who were giggling up a storm at the bow-and-arrow station. "I tried!" she protested, but then joined into the laughter.
"I can only imagine what Tyrell thinks of this," Sabina said.
Krilla fired an arrow before responding. "Probably the hardest his drunk ass has laughed in years."
"Tyrell is not a drunk," Sabina choked, clearly offended. Yes, Tyrell was the butt of their jokes, but Sabina felt a strong sense of district loyalty toward him. And maybe, she realized, she felt a sense of loyalty toward Maximus as well. No matter how stupid and spineless he seemed.
Over at the slingshot station, Maximus was laughing too. Laughing because he knew he could slaughter every single one of them if there was a great sword in his hand. And he'd show them once the games started, after he'd set things to high difficulty. That was when they'd see the real Maximus Decimus, the real Roman. The real victor.
The next week was more of the same. Maximus kept up his silly attitude throughout all three days of training, confounding and astounding every other tribute in the training center. By the end of training, Sabina had stopped travelling with him completely. For good reason, too, because no career in their right mind would associate with a boy like that.
Was Maximus in his right mind? Definitely. There was a line between crazy tribute and insane tributes but he did not cross it. No matter how thick he laid his act, he couldn't let himself go too far; that was a good way to get killed by the gamemakers as soon as the games started.
When the time for his private session came, he hit a dilemma. Should he continue his act and intentionally go for a pathetic score, or show his true talent to the gamemakers? While sitting in the waiting room, he decided on the former. Hacking every dummy into pieces with a sword would ruin the image he'd made for himself. He needed to keep the illusion going, just for a little while longer. Then he could show his true colors.
He ended up earning a seven, which was clearly unfair; all he'd done was stand there and fling spears a few feet in front of him! But he was popular and intriguing and all eyes were on him. That meant the gamemakers had to give him a high score.
It was a truth that every victor knew by heart: being an interesting character was half the game. And Maximus was most certainly doing that flawlessly.
Interview night was a real riot. Caius Flickerman, dressed in a spring-green suit this year, had more than just a few questions to ask the boy from District 2. Maximus' favorite question didn't come until halfway through the interview. Caius leaned forward in his seat, dropped his voice to a faux whisper, and hissed, "What's your deepest secret?"
"Uh… I'm, like, amazing!" he yelled.
The audience burst into laughter, and Maximus felt a pinch in his stomach. This – having thousands of people roar at him with laughter – was very embarrassing. He couldn't deny that any longer. But it was also too late to turn back.
"You're amazing? Well, that's not a secret. We all know that," Caius chortled.
When his interview was over, he slunk backstage and took a seat next to Sabina. They were both sweating from their time under the hot stage lights, and their thick and colorful outfits weren't helping in that regard.
"What goes on in there?" Sabina asked so suddenly it was almost comedic.
"In where?"
"In that head of yours."
A string broke in his heart. What was he doing? This girl – this fancy but fierce girl named Sabina – was his only connection to the district he called home. He suddenly felt guilty for acting so cold toward her. He had to firmly remind himself that it was too late to turn back now. It would ruin his image.
"You're in there a lot," Maximus said, which sounded a lot creepier than he intended. "And Tyrell."
He was still using the girly voice, but he wasn't using the stupid vocabulary he'd stuck with since the reaping. That had to mean something.
"I'm…" She stared straight ahead. "I'm honored."
It was a long time before Sabina said anything else.
"Maximus?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you trying to make this whole thing hard for yourself?"
Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing, he said silently But he couldn't put that into words. It would sound too ridiculous, too frivolous. And while Maximus Decimus had a reputation of being an airhead, he was not stupid.
The conversation died out quickly. Maximus left Sabina as soon as she was joined by Fiesta and Krilla. The two career boys, Robust and Furler, were pointing fingers at him from the corner of the room. Maximus hit his back against the wall and slid down onto his ankles, thinking about Sabina and Tyrell and Caius Flickerman.
Have I been setting myself up for a greater challenge, or have I been setting myself up to die?
Maximus relaxed on the lengthy hovercraft ride to the distant arena. He tried to seem as emotionless as possible as the other careers peered over at him. Robust and Fiesta were chatting lightly to his left, whispering just quietly enough that Maximus couldn't hear them. Sabina was to his right, staring straight ahead at the tribute across from her. Furler and Krilla were doing pretty much the same thing.
Maximus got the distinct impression that every tribute's mind was racing wildly. So many raging thoughts compacted into such a small space had to produce some kind of reaction, and it did. The air hummed with a kind of magical tension that both dazzled and dizzied him.
This is it, he thought as the hovercraft started to lower. This is what I've been preparing for my entire life. This is what I humiliated myself in front of the entire nation for. I'd better make it count.
In the catacombs under the arena, the entire District 2 team was waiting for him: Tyrell, the escort (whose name was Agrippina), and the group of colorful stylists whose names he still hadn't learned. He put his crazy act back on and flamboyantly wished them farewell. One of the stylists kissed him on the cheek, and then everyone left to say their goodbyes to Sabine.
He made brief eye contact with Tyrell as he skirted out the door. There were more emotions packed into that single gaze than in a hundred dusty scrolls from Ancient Rome. I believe in you, it seemed to say, but it said something else too. I've watched two kids die every year for the last two decades and I know I can't let myself be too sad if you die too.
He swatted that thought down instantly. This wasn't how a career thought! He remembered the videos they'd been shown at the academy, providing information on how to be stoic and fearless in high-stress situations. That calmed him down a little. He was well-trained and well-prepared; he didn't need to worry. He just needed to grab a sword and he'd be home free.
This year, the cornucopia and the pedestal ring were inside of a hot stone chamber lit by torchlight. Long, yawning hallways stretched out into the distance, and Maximus got the impression that he was surrounded by miles of stone on all sides. Strange symbols of birds and humans were carved into the walls – hieroglyphs, Maximus realized. They must be inside an Egyptian pyramid.
The Romans once occupied Egypt. He thought back to some of the old drawings in his mansion – diagrams of sphinxes and pyramids and Egyptian gods. The land of Egypt had been almost completely covered when the waters rose, and the above-water areas of the country were as lifeless and ruined as the rest of the Dark Lands. It was a creepy but cool feeling to be inside an ancient Egyptian pyramid. Like he was peering into a different world.
The horn sounded, and he grabbed the first sword he could find. With such little space for the tributes to move around, there was utter mayhem at the bloodbath, even more so than usual. In the corner of his eye, he saw Furler kill two girls using his spear. Maximus took that as a cue to begin attacking.
His sword was an arc of pure destruction. He cut his way through the panicking crowd like a farmer cutting through grain with a sickle. A fire of delight started to glow in his chest. He stabbed like a Roman instead of slashing like they taught at the academy.
He reminded himself of his rule: to never do anything the easy way. That was why he'd made the games so hard for himself. And he'd done an amazing job, because the rest of the career pack utterly rejected him. Sabina was sympathetic when he tried to join them, but the others wanted nothing to do with the ridiculous boy who'd made a fool of himself the entire time they'd been in the Capitol.
Also, he noticed, Furler was missing from the career pack. Given the number of tributes he'd blindly stabbed through, there was a pretty good chance he was the culprit. He didn't stay around until they could accuse him of killing one of their own; he grabbed a spear and some supplies and then raced into the depths of the pyramid.
An hour or so later, a silver parachute drifted down to him through a hole in the ceiling. He lunged at it excitedly, expecting some kind of gift, but it was only a note from Tyrell.
Maximus,
You're doing great. Stay on the lookout for traps.
TC
He immediately realized what Tyrell was talking about. Moments later, while he walked quietly down the stone hallway, he heard the noise of heavy footsteps echoing around the space. The silhouette of a small boy was running toward him. The boy screamed as jets of fire flew out of the walls and ceiling, trying to scorch him to a crisp as he helplessly ran for his life. He ran straight into the point of Maximus' sword, triggering the first cannon since the bloodbath.
Maximus took the opportunity for a break. He sat cross-legged on the floor and started munching on some crackers included in his pack. There was a thick, creamy soup in there too, but he saved it for later. He wasn't very hungry anyway, and his stomach was too uneasy from nervousness for him to feel comfortable eating anything else.
The arena held more threats than he ever could have imagined: jets of fire, murderous mummies, arrows flying out of nowhere, skeleton archers. That last item on the list was the most problematic. A group of the undead bowmen moved like a flank through the pyramid, probably making most of the kills.
The careers were dying too, slowly but surely. Fiesta and Krilla's faces were included in the death recap on Day 4, leaving only Robust and Sabina to carry on the career pack. Maximus curled up to sleep in a dark circular chamber and doodled in the dust using his sword. Alone and friendless, with a bad reputation? This sure was the hard way to play.
"Be amazed, Panem," he whispered as he slowly closed his eyes.
Things were pretty tame for a while. A week into the games, Robust and Sabina were both still alive, along with six other tributes including Maximus. Maximus wasn't the best mathematician, but by his count, that meant there were eight tributes left. They'd be interviewing his loved ones back home, fishing out a bunch of heartfelt words of encouragement to be played on televisions across the nation.
He tried to imagine the faces of his family members: his mother, his father, and all his siblings. They were the only people in the world who knew how crazy he really was. At least, they were before the reaping.
On Day 8, Maximus cornered the boy from District 12 and stabbed him through the throat while he screamed for mercy. The boy was so thin that Maximus could easily count his ribs. That was an unsettling sight for someone who came from one of the wealthiest bloodlines in Panem.
Tyrell continued to send him correspondence, letting him know how the rest of the tributes were doing. Robust and Sabina were out and about, but Robust was injured from a skeleton archer and Sabina was coughing from some awful illness. The boy from 5, the boy from 7, the girl from 8, and the boy from 10 were alive as well, all in varying states of distress as they ran aimlessly through the deep tunnels of the pyramid arena.
Not knowing what happened in other parts of the arena was sheer torture. It was all Maximus could do to carefully count the cannon shots, never miss the death recaps, and wait patiently for updates from Tyrell.
Ten days into the games, a trio of reanimated mummy mutts chased Maximus toward the cornucopia. The mutts were surprisingly fast despite their meager appearance, and their sharp teeth poked through their cloth wrappings menacingly. He killed two of the mummies before the third one sank its teeth into his neck. The world began to spin like a top, sending his head rolling back and right as he trembled and retched on his knees. Poison. Not enough to kill him, but enough to put him through a world of hurt.
He woke up with Sabina standing over him.
Maximus scrambled to his feet and unsheathed his sword, his heart suddenly pounding a million miles an hour. All that remained of the poisonous mummy bite was a faint headache, but it would still distract him if a fight broke out.
"Maximus, Maximus, Maximus," she contemplated, drawing out the moment of combat in the torturous way they'd been taught in District 2. "You looked so cozy down there."
"It was a pretty great nap, not going to lie."
Maximus figured it couldn't hurt to be aggressive. He hoisted up his deadly blade, at just the right level that he'd be ready for battle if Sabina chose violence.
"Why didn't you just kill me?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in mock humor.
"Oh, I planned on it. But you are a light sleeper, Maximus. You woke up before I could pounce."
The word pounce fit her appearance so well. Her nails were like cats' claws, her eyes glowed in the darkness like a feline's. Whiskers and long ears wouldn't look out of place on that attractive face.
It was not a peaceful conversation. Maximus lashed out while Sabina was cautiously speaking, hoping to catch her off guard. But her reflexes were incredible, and with both a spear and a sword she was a powerful opponent.
Not powerful enough for Maximus Decimus, though. Fifteen minutes later, Sabina Grant from District 2 lay dead on the stony floor of the tunnel.
Even on hard difficulty, he was making excellent progress through the Hunger Games. Tyrell gave him another update three days later. The boys from 5 and 7 had gotten themselves killed somehow or other. The girl from 8 and the boy from 10, Tyrell said somewhat vaguely, weren't doing great. The note warned Maximus not to underestimate Robust's strength; he was lethally armed and ready to fight to the death.
By a sheer stroke of luck, Robust's face was in the death recap a few days later. Either he'd starved or been killed by a trap or the other tributes had somehow managed to kill him. But it didn't really matter. He was dead and out of the way.
Who was left now? The girl from 8 and the boy from 10.
"Pffff," he hissed as he wiped the dust off his sword. You may as well have asked him to knock two flies out of the air.
But Maximus was a boy who did everything the hard way. And, he thought, imagine how impressive it would be to win the games without his famous sword! He didn't know exactly what inspired him to do it. Maybe it was a desire to bring things full circle, end the games the way they began. Or maybe it was his stupid side playing up again. But it didn't matter what caused him to do it; that had no effect on the outcome.
He threw away all of his weapons except for a single knife.
The boy from 10 went down quickly. Maximus found him near the cornucopia (he'd probably been chased there by a mutt or other trap earlier that day) and flung the knife into his chest. The boy made some kind of an effort to fight back, but he was clearly untrained. Helpless, he fell against the wall of the tunnel and died quickly. His blood shone oddly bright over the hieroglyph-covered walls.
The girl from 8 was more of a challenge. She had a hatchet and knew how to use it very well. They clashed in a large round chamber near the cornucopia, a room whose floor was already stained with blood from past battles. She put up a good fight, but she was no match for the powerful boy from District 2. As she died, she let out a shriek so loud that Maximus reckoned it could be heard from literally anywhere in the arena.
"I am proud to present Maximus Decimus from District 2, victor of the twenty-first annual Hunger Games!" Caius Flickerman announced, giggling with glee. Maximus giggled too, gaping in awe as the ceiling opened up to reveal the massive hovercraft.
Someday, his stupidity would catch up to him… or something. For now, all he cared about was the famous new life he'd just entered.
List of Victors
District 1 (3 Victors): Luxor Dodge (1st), Citrine Whitacre (9th), Peridot Partridge (18th)
District 2 (4 Victors): Tyrell Crowley (3rd), Lancaster Percy (6th), Ajax Mathers (15th), Maximus Decimus (21st)
District 3 (2 Victors): Lumen Orlaith (12th), Cobalt Thindrel (19th)
District 4 (2 Victors): Mags Flanagan (11th), Ripple Hart (16th)
District 5 (1 Victor): Electra Wilty (4th)
District 6 (1 Victor): Jaguar Stratton (7th)
District 7 (3 Victors): Rowan Dobson (2nd), Willow Merrick (13th), Ebony Merrick (14th)
District 8 (1 Victor): Georgio Bronte (8th)
District 9 (1 Victor): Izzy Mayfleet (17th)
District 10 (0 Victors):
District 11 (2 Victors): Bluebell Singer (5th), Crow Kensington (20th)
District 12 (1 Victor): Canary Roselock (10th)
A/N: If you think that was ridiculous, or unrealistic, or overdone, I don't disagree with you. But Maximus was SO much fun to write! I'll be trying my best to make the career victors stand out from each other, and I hope this guy was crazy but comedic enough to fit the bill. Please leave a review if you can – I read all of them and I value your comments so much (: