A/N: Ever wondered just how corrupt the government of Panem is? Wonder no longer, because this entire chapter focuses on President Cornelius and the horrid things he does on a daily basis! I felt icky just writing this…
Vintner Aphelion from District 1
Victor of the Twenty-Third Annual Hunger Games
President Marcus Cornelius was, as he so often was, sitting in his study. Outside the window, the sky was darkening, but the lights of the Capitol shone as brightly as ever. The city made of candy and make-up and colorful wings: this was the place from which President Cornelius ruled Panem.
There was a knock on the door of his study. Rio had come right on time. Of course he had: he was the most diligent young man Cornelius had ever known.
"Good evening, Mr. President," Rio said, sitting politely across from him.
"Good evening, Rio. Have you summoned the career tributes as I asked you to?"
A neat, calculated smile spread across Rio's face. "Yes. They should be here any minute."
This meeting – this gathering of the six career tributes – was part of President Cornelius' giant plan for this year's games. He and Rio had spent the last few months discussing terrible things: bouncing around gruesome ideas, brainstorming bloody ways to make the games more exciting. And, slowly but surely, they'd formed their final plan.
The president reached under his desk and pulled out a thick envelope, embossed with the seal of District 1. He pushed it into Rio's hands. The dastardly young man felt the envelope up and down, trying to guess how many thousands of dollars were hidden inside.
"This is the money you were talking about, isn't it?" Rio asked. "From the academy?"
Cornelius nodded. It was one of his darkest secrets, but he'd let Rio in on it anyway. There was nobody in the entire nation that he trusted more. Long story short, the head trainer at District 1's academy had paid the president an enormous amount of money to make his son a victor.
"What's the boy's name again?" Rio asked. "The boy we're going to… well… bend the odds in the favor of?"
"Vintner Aphelion," Cornelius said, his heart flaming with greed as the name danced over his lips. Cornelius was not a stranger to corruption, but this was the first time he'd be intentionally rigging the Hunger Games.
"Vintner Aphelion," Rio repeated. "I love him already. And his father, of course."
A disoto (an avox who was also deaf) entered the room and poured some wine for the two men. Only deaf avoxes were ever allowed in the president's study; otherwise, some of his gruesome secrets might be overheard, and he couldn't have that. No, he could never have that.
Rio waited to drink his wine until Cornelius had taken his first sip: a customary sign of respect in the Capitol. Rio filled every single check-box for a villainous accomplice. It was only right that he receive part of the money.
"Take some of it, Rio," he said, gesturing toward the envelope.
Rio cracked open the envelope. He almost cackled when he saw the thousands of dollars sitting inside.
"How much can I take?" he asked.
"As much as you want. Vintner's father won't care who it goes to. Only that his son can be a star."
Immediately after Rio pocketed the money, there came a knock on the study door. Cornelius shoved the envelope back under his desk, then did a quick floor check to make sure there wasn't any loose money sitting around. Just as Rio scurried into hiding (slipping through a side door into the president's sleeping chambers) the front door swung open and the careers entered.
This was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most threatening career pack the Hunger Games had ever seen. Each of them was carefully handpicked from among the strongest children in their district, having been motivated by massive monetary prizes to train for the games as hard as they possibly could.
Vintner, the designated victor, entered first. He must have been almost seven feet tall, with wavy dark hair and a dark voice and a dark mind. His district partner, Chalice Drewitt, was similarly built: tall, muscular, and dangerously attractive. She didn't look like a stereotypical District 1 tribute, but that was okay; it didn't matter what color her hair was, only that she could put on a deadly show.
District 2's pair came in next: Baron Varville, the humongous bodybuilder whose father had connections with the Capitol, ensuring he would be picked as the chosen volunteer; and Rufanna Spangel, the dark-skinned girl who was a wizard with bows and axes. Both tributes were equally intimidating, though neither could be allowed to triumph over Vintner.
Mizzen Crohn, the boy from District 4, fit into every stereotype imaginable: he was muscular and bronze-skinned and ocean-eyed, and he overall had the surfer look that Capitolites craved. The girl, Undine Finner, would probably be the deadliest tribute this year. She was the first tribute to score an eleven in years, a master of beauty and weaponry. She was sure to go far.
"Good evening, tributes," said President Cornelius. "I won't keep you here long, but I have much to tell you. Please seat yourselves."
"It's an honor, Mr. President," Mizzen said, seemingly dumbfounded with shock from being in the same room as him. The other careers echoed his sentiment, but Cornelius ignored them. This wasn't the time for flattery.
"First off, I'd like to reassure you that my monetary promises have been fulfilled. Your families have all been well-paid for your training efforts."
"Now – please keep yourselves calm – I'm going to show you the arena. This is highly confidential, and if I catch you disclosing this information to anybody, you can say goodbye to your chance of winning the games."
It was ironic, Cornelius thought as he pulled out his arena maps, that these tributes were being promised a chance of winning in the first place. Vintner was going to win; he had to win. That was President Cornelius' corrupt promise when he accepted bribes from the academy.
He glanced upward briefly and made eye contact with the boy from District 1. The smuggest smile in history was seated deep on his face. He knew he had the gamemakers' protection, he knew his father had dealt secretly with the president, and he knew he was going to win no matter what. His smile told Cornelius all of those things on no uncertain terms.
"As I was saying," Cornelius continued, spreading out the arena map. "The arena this year incorporates many fantasy elements. It's a forest, yes, but much more…"
And he showed them. The giant mushrooms and the fairy mutts, and the huge rabbits and the choking ivy and the blissful drugs that rained from the sky. This wasn't just a forest, this was an enchanted forest. This was wonderland.
"In case you're wondering, I've personally rigged the reapings in each of the other districts. I've ensured that the most pathetic, sniveling little kids have been sent into this arena. Fodder, for you guys to murder with no trouble at all. They shouldn't be any problem to kill, but I need you to take them down in moderation. I can't have you killing them all in the first few days – that won't do. After the bloodbath, no more than one or two kills a day, please. Do you have my word?"
"Yes, Mr. President," they all said.
"And do you swear – on pain of death – that you won't disclose any of this information to anyone?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
"Good. But I'm not finished with you six yet."
As Cornelius pulled out the sealed envelope, he glanced over the six careers: Vintner, Chalice, Baron, Rufanna, Mizzen, Undine. This was what the Hunger Games were supposed to be: a bloody show, with a mix of strong killers and helpless weaklings. Just like the Capitol keeping the districts subservient with peacekeepers and hangings and Hunger Games. It was terribly corrupt, yes, but Cornelius' blatant favoritism could not be stopped. Nothing could stop the president of Panem.
"Do you swear not to disclose anything I have told you this evening?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. President."
"Well, swearing isn't enough. I need more evidence than that."
And he made them sign their names a million times. Promising that they'd be loyal, that they'd praise the Capitol every day they were in the arena, saying that their families could all be killed if they told anyone the president's secrets. They swore to stick together as a single alliance for as long as possible. Then, after their hands were sore from signing, the president dismissed them. "Good luck on interview night," he said. "And remember. Let. Nothing. Slip."
Vintner glanced over his shoulder as he walked out of the room. Cornelius offered him a rare smile, then gave him a little flash of the money envelope under his desk. One thing was for certain: Vintner Aphelion had joined the inner circle. The circle that stretched from the president to Rio to Charmian Brood to everyone else who knew the dark secrets of the presidential mansion.
The inner circle was a luxurious but dangerous place to be. Some people just couldn't handle it, so Cornelius had to dispose of them. But he was confident Vintner could hold up well among the ranks of his accomplices.
Before that, though, there were the games to worry about. He called Rio back into the study and turned on the television, which tuned in just as Vintner waltzed onto Caius Flickerman's stage.
Caius Flickerman spun around in his chair, a dazzling smile adorning his heart-shaped face. "Welcome, welcome, to Capitol TV! Today we'll be witnessing the first day of the twenty-third annual Hunger Games. As usual, we'll watch the bloodbath twice: once in real time, and once in slow motion, with my brilliant narration over every frame."
The gamemakers scrambled to their positions as Caius started the countdown. President Cornelius took a brief sip of his wine, settling his gaze on the giant television screen in the control center. Here, among the gamemakers, he could give commands to the gamemakers at an instant's notice.
Saturninus, the man who'd served as head gamemaker ever since the fifteenth games, was the only gamemaker who'd been ordered to protect Vintner at all costs. He'd even been offered some of the bribe money just to keep him quiet. President Cornelius had briefly considered telling the entire gamemaker team of his plan, but quickly decided against it. It was just too risky.
On the television, the cameras showed the VIP section of Caius Flickerman's audience. In the very first row, there were the victors: all twenty of them, their expressions in varying states of dread as they watched the bloodbath begin. The stylists and escorts were there as well, leaning excitedly forward so they wouldn't miss a single second of the bloodbath.
"Saturninus!" Cornelius barked. The head gamemaker was at his side instantly.
"Yes, Mr. President?"
"Don't forget about our… deal."
Saturninus grinned. "I have a fantastic memory, Mr. President. I'd never forget that."
"You'd better hope you don't forget it. Back to your station, Saturninus. Make me glad I chose you as head gamemaker."
He nodded and marched away. Cornelius once again reverted his attention to the television, where Caius Flickerman was narrating the bloodbath.
The first five minutes of the games were nothing short of a massacre. With such a powerful career pack and such a weak group of outliers, things were bound to get gory. Baron and Rufanna from 2 were the first tributes to arm themselves. Their favorite weapons had been placed near their pedestals on purpose: a sword for Baron and a bow for Rufanna. As they attacked their first victims, the other four careers thundered into the scuffle.
Vintner grabbed his sword and immediately broke into a rampage. His first target, the little girl from 10, was dead in seconds. Vintner cut open her torso with two heavy chops, ending her life just as Mizzen and Undine from 4 made their first kill.
Cornelius had ordered the TV editors not to focus too strongly on Vintner; he didn't want to make his favoritism too obvious. They stuck true to this promise; the cameras showed a pretty even blend of all six careers throughout the bloodbath. Chalice was the last career to make her first kill, decapitating the boy from 9 in a single fell swoop using her deadly axe. After that, all hell broke loose, with stabbings and slashings and beatings occurring so rapidly it was difficult to cover them all.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
"Fourteen tributes dead!" Caius Flickerman exclaimed. "Now let's watch that again, shall we?"
As the television program re-played the bloodbath in slow motion, Cornelius examined the giant map of the arena that the gamemakers were seated around. All six careers – Vintner, Chalice, Baron, Rufanna, Mizzen, and Undine – were still alive, and none of them seemed to be injured. The gamemakers played little snippets of camera footage on their hologram screens, examining the remaining tributes.
There were only four tributes left besides the careers: the boy from 3, the boy from 5, the boy from 6, and the girl from 11. Cornelius hadn't planned on the games progressing this quickly, but it would have to do.
"What are your thoughts, Mr. President?" Saturninus asked, having seemingly appeared out of nowhere at his side. "Vintner is in perfect health, as are the other careers. The boys from 3 and 5 are in perfect condition, but a little shaken. The boy from 6 is bleeding pretty heavily. His life is at risk. We haven't seen much of the girl from 11; she's hiding well."
"Heal up the boy from 6," the president responded. "And delay the natural threats of the arena for a few days. The next death should be a career; as it stands, they're a bit much."
And that was exactly what happened. On Day 3, two career tributes met their doom. The careers were treading quietly through the forest when something hissed under Chalice's foot. She leaped backward, expecting some kind of hideous creature to emerge from under the foliage, but nothing happened. Weird.
It wasn't until fifteen minutes later that the careers realized what kind of trouble they were in. They'd walked into a giant net of choking ivy: a muttation plant that grabbed onto their ankles and crept up their legs seemingly by magic. Mizzen roared with fear as a snake-like tendril of ivy grabbed him by the waist, tugging him downward. Undine tried to help him, but it was useless; the net of slithering vines was pulling him downward like quicksand, and he was already doomed.
The careers were fast, but the ivy was even faster. One thick green vine grabbed Baron by the ankle, and he had to chop it using his sword before it could pull him under. Rufanna's reflexes were not nearly as fast; by the time she realized she was in trouble, it was too late.
The four living members of the alliance (Vintner, Chalice, Baron, and Undine) ran for their lives as the ivy snapped at their heels. For the most part, the ivy steered suspiciously clear of Vintner. Good. No harm could be allowed to come to him.
By the time the angry ivy settled down completely, it was nightfall. "Let's go back now," Undine breathed out, gesturing in the direction of the cornucopia.
Baron shook his head. "We're too tired. Let's rest here for now."
Vintner and Chalice both agreed. Neither of them was in the mood for more travelling.
"Don't get angry, Undine," Chalice hissed. "We have to stick together, remember?"
Undine crossed her arms stubbornly. "We don't have to. I might just walk away by myself."
But Vintner picked up the chant. "We have to stick together. Remember?"
Undine's eyebrows wrinkled. "What are you talking about?"
"Remember?"
Her eyes dropped. Yes, she remembered.
She'd do well to remember all of the president's other orders as well, Cornelius thought as he took a sip of his wine. Apparently, Undine had had a memory slip. Apparently, all the times she'd signed her name hadn't been enough. But now wasn't the time for vengeance; there were only eight tributes left three days in, and it was now the president's goal to draw out the games as long as possible.
The next two days were pretty uneventful. The dream-like rain came on Day 5. It was a funny, misty substance that made the tributes' noses tingle. Their eyes went foggy and their voices turned into squeals as the numbing drug coursed through their bodies. It was quite comedic to watch as they all fell into a deep sleep, sedated by the magical rain.
The other tributes, the non-careers, were doing just fine. The boy from 3 had spent the last few days scrounging for food. The boys from 5 and 6 were allied, and they'd been sponsored enough food and water to stay comfortable without actively hunting. The girl from 11 was a camouflage fan; she smeared herself and her supplies with the dark soil to stay hidden among the undergrowth.
The allies, the boys from 5 and 6, were the next tributes to die. Their faces were in the sky on the seventh night; the careers had found them, and they were helplessly slaughtered. Chalice and Baron attacked the boy from 5, with Chalice pinning him down and Baron gashing open his torso with heavy chops of his sword. Meanwhile, the boy from 6 fell victim to Vintner and Undine, who skewered him effortlessly using their spears.
"That's enough for today," Vintner said, hoping his allies would get the message. Cornelius had ordered them to make no more than two kills per day, and that was an order they all intended to follow.
Chalice eyed Undine strangely, possibly expecting her to break out into an argument with Vintner. Over the past week, Undine had built up a reputation as a hot-head, but the sleepy rain had seemingly cooled her raging temper. In fact, she'd formed quite an amusing friendship with Chalice. The two girls often walked together, with Vintner and Baron forming the other pair of hunting buddies.
In the next few days, the mutts started to emerge: the fairies and the giant rabbits and the huge toads. The careers fended them off fairly well, until Day 11, when Baron lost his life at the hands of a rabbit mutt. The others tried to take the beast down, but its hide was too powerful for their weapons to pierce. They ran for their lives as Baron's cannon fired, the mutt tearing away strips of his flesh using its fearsome buck teeth.
Vintner was pretty pissed. Not only was his friend dead, his sword was starting to gather rust. He even suspected Chalice and Undine of eating his food rations, which they definitely had been doing, but he was careful not to accuse them directly. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions and get himself killed. This Vintner Aphelion was fierce, yes, but he was not stupid.
At last, on Day 12, Vintner stared at the nearest camera with a furious frown. "I want to speak to the president."
This was completely unheard of. A tribute – while in the arena – speaking to the president? It seemed ridiculous, but it was part of the deal: in exchange for protecting him during the games, Vintner could request a conference with Cornelius whenever he wanted.
"What should we do?" Saturninus asked, the slightest hint of shock in his voice.
"Turn off all the cameras near him. Separate him from the other careers – drive them away using a mutt or some other threat. And…" Cornelius' voice trailed off as the minor gamemakers rushed into action. "Set up a hologram in the arena, where I can speak to him."
It was sooner done than said. Ten minutes later, Vintner was alone in the forest, staring at the holographic form of President Cornelius. The president himself had relocated to a separate room, somewhere nobody could overhear his private conversation with the boy from District 1.
"What's the matter, Mr. Aphelion?" Cornelius asked.
"I need orders," he said. "Other than me, there are four left. Two careers and two outliers. I guess… I guess…"
"What do you guess, Vintner?"
He blinked hard, hardening his voice in dignity. "I guess I'm asking for your permission to turn on my allies."
It was a smart point to bring up. If Vintner waited any longer to betray the other careers, he'd run the risk of being found out. They'd discover instantly that he was being protected, and then where would he be? The president would have to order his death, just to stomp out the coals of suspicion – breaking the deal with the academy of District 1. That wouldn't do.
"Very well," said President Cornelius. "Turn on them. I can kill one of them for you, if you'd like."
"That'd be great."
Undine's cannon shot fired moments later: a giant toad mutt attacked her, sent by Saturninus and the other gamemakers on the president's orders.
The games were now two weeks in, and they were drawing to a close. Vintner patrolled the forest dutifully, searching for Chalice and the other tributes. The boy from 3 and the girl from 11 clashed that evening, a surprising turn of events. The boy from 3 triumphed, smashing in his opponent's head with a rock. BOOM! Three tributes left.
The boy from 3 grinned with satisfaction as a silver parachute full of food floated into his lap, but his triumph was short-lived. Chalice found him later that day, and he was dead before he knew what had hit him. She yanked her axe out of his already-lifeless body and sighed. Now it was time to find and attack Vintner.
Despite Saturninus' best attempts to conceal Vintner's secret, Chalice was at least partially aware of it. It couldn't be a coincidence that not a single harm had ever come to him. The choking ivy had avoided him, the rabbit and toad mutts had refused to attack him. Even the fairy mutts never attacked him, instead attacking his allies while he helped to shoo them away from a distance. And why – for the love of Panem, why – had he asked to speak to the president?
Vintner and Chalice clashed on Day 16, and the fight was over before it had even started. Vintner was so utterly loaded with sponsor gifts – knives, swords, body armor – there was no way he could fail. Within two minutes, Chalice was lying on the ground, flopping and flailing like a dying fish as her life slipped away.
"This thing is rigged," she muttered with disgust. Then her eyes closed for the last time.
Six months had passed since Vintner Aphelion won the twenty-third annual Hunger Games. His victory tour was a messy affair; the districts of Panem had caught wind of the bribery, and they were furious. Vintner did his best to calm the districts down, but there wasn't much he could do besides reading his speeches and praising the glory of the Capitol.
Now, at the final stop of his victory tour, Vintner was visiting the Capitol itself. The party had gone on for three days. In and outside the president' mansion, there were musicians and performers, plates of food and carts of alcohol, and every other fancy thing you could imagine.
But the celebration couldn't last forever. Now it was time for the Spill. That was President Cornelius' nickname for the conversation he had with every victor, when he told them their duties and explained their role as a victor in the largest and darkest sense he possibly could.
There came a knock on his study door, and Vintner entered, flanked by peacekeepers. A disoto offered to pour him some wine, but he refused. He wanted to be perfectly sober during his discussion with the president.
"President Cornelius," Vintner gasped. "It's an honor."
"Entirely mine, entirely mine." He was done with pleasantries. "First off, I'd like to ask you something."
"Yes, Mr. President?"
"Who told you?"
"Who told me what?" he asked, but the grin on his face made it obvious that he already knew.
"I mean," Cornelius elaborated, "Who told you that you had been given our complete protection, our guarantee that you would survive the games?"
"It was my father," he said. "The night before the reaping, he sat me down. Told me he'd sold half the stuff in our house, just to build up a heap of money, just to… well, persuade you."
Persuade. In this context, that was a beautiful word for a terrible thing. Vintner was already a master of cunning words. He was sure to go far under Cornelius' guidance.
"Well, Vintner, there's something I need you to understand. I went to incredible lengths to ensure that you survived that arena. I ordered my head gamemaker against threatening you with mutts, I drove you away from the dangerous parts of the arena whenever I could, I…"
"I'm very grateful for that, Mr. President," he said loudly, interrupting him before his sentence could get too heated.
Cornelius sipped his wine. Yes, he shouldn't let himself be angry. No use projecting that kind of image on the impressionable young victor.
There was silence for a long time, broken only occasionally by the sipping of wine and the drumming of Cornelius' polished talons on the table.
"I shall never do this again," Cornelius murmured. Rigging the games like this was more trouble than it was worth. Then again, he wasn't sure he could keep this promise forever – as long as the academies could gather enough money to tempt him, the games would never be fair.
"Mr. President?" Vintner asked, his voice trembling slightly. "I'd like to ask you a question."
"Anything, Victor."
"I have seen you… with… somebody. From time to time. He must be a servant here because he wears a servant's uniform. I swear he looks familiar. Who is he?"
Cornelius stared deep into Vintner's eyes. Was it worth telling him the truth?
"You… you know who I'm talking about, right?" Vintner stammered.
More silence.
"Yes, Vintner. That man's name is Rio. He was one of the Patrons for the fifteenth games. He is a servant here now."
Vintner tilted his head curiously. "He's still alive? I knew Charmian was alive – he sits on stage at the reapings – but weren't the others killed?"
"They were not killed, no. But this is deeply secret information. You must tell nobody."
"I won't, Mr. President."
"You know what, Vintner? I'd like for you to meet him," Cornelius said. "Now that you're part of my inner web, I think it's best you get to know him a little."
The president summoned him, and ten minutes later Rio was entering the study. His eyes sparkled with bloody delight, like they always did whenever topics of death and corruption danced in the air.
"Nice to meet you, Rio," Vintner said, his mouth falling open with surprise.
Rio smiled, a carefully curled smile. "Nice to meet you too, Vintner."
As Rio sat down, Vintner caught a short whiff of his breath. It was a sinister scent, a mixture of something metallic and something sweet.
The smell of Rio's breath was unmistakable.
The smell of roses and blood.
List of Victors
District 1 (4 Victors): Luxor Dodge (1st), Citrine Whitacre (9th), Peridot Partridge (18th), Vintner Aphelion (23rd)
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), Burton Flax (22nd)
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)