Argus Collymore from District 10
Victor of the Twenty-Fourth Annual Hunger Games
THEN
The morning of the second day, the rain returned with a vengeance. Argus groggily opened his eyes and stretched out a hand into the darkness, feeling the stone wall of the cave. For one moment – one blissful moment – he couldn't remember where he was. The sound of the rain was like a bath, flooding his senses with pleasure.
Argus got to his feet and felt himself up and down, as though making sure he was still alive. His belt of knives was still clipped securely around his waist. The pack of food he'd taken from the cornucopia still sat in the back of the cave, concealed by a blanket of leaves.
As the rain continued, water seeped into the cavern. By the time he finished his breakfast he was standing in nearly half an inch of cold liquid. The rainwater made the snake bite on his ankle sting. Argus gritted his teeth, trying not to cry out as the bite rang with agony.
He shuffled toward the cave entrance and watched the snake hanging from the ceiling. It was a pretty clever contraption, if Argus said so himself. When he first entered the cave, a snake bit his ankle, so he tied a rope onto the snake and hung it from the ceiling. Now it acted as a sentry, a guard. If any other tribute entered the cave, they'd attack the snake, alerting Argus that they were there. And if they didn't see the snake at all, it would attack them.
Argus folded his hands back as he watched the creature squirm lightly within the rope. He'd taken something deadly and twisted it to his own advantage. How clever of him.
But now wasn't the time to get a big head. There were twelve tributes left, and it'd take more than just brains to kill them. The knives around his waist felt hotter and hotter, scorching through the leather belt. The thought of directly killing another tribute horrified him, but he knew he'd have to get over it sooner than later.
Argus Collymore wasn't typically a realist, but the games had already changed him quite a lot. Now wasn't the time to get stubborn about violence.
The rest of the day passed without much trouble. He left the cave to search for food as soon as the rain lightened up, inching along the cave wall to avoid entering the snake's range. The exact environment of the arena was hard to define: somewhere between a scrub terrain and a savannah. Nonetheless, food was plentiful if you knew where to find it. So were snakes. But now wasn't the time to be pessimistic.
He returned to the cave with a handful of berries. He tossed one to the snake, just as a little joke, and it snatched the fruit out of the air. It was somewhat horrifying to watch as the serpent lunged into action, opening its jaws and swallowing the berry without so much as a single bite.
"I'm hungry too, buddy," Argus murmured. He tossed a few more berries to the snake before he was finished. By the end of the day, the snake felt like a friend to him. Was that ridiculous? Maybe. Pathetic? Absolutely. But, Argus decided, having someone (or something) to talk to might well keep him from going insane in the days to come.
NOW
In the history of the Hunger Games, there had been twenty-two victors. They lived in every district, in varying states of trauma and reclusion, spending their entire lives trying to forget the terrible things the Capitol had made them do.
However, in the eyes of President Cornelius, this wasn't nearly enough. It wasn't enough to kill twenty-three kids and traumatize a single survivor every year. No, that wouldn't do. The victors needed to be constantly reminded of their past. He did this by forcing the victors to mentor the new tributes each year, which did a fine job tormenting them even further, but he also hosted fancy victor parties every now and then.
In his hotel suite in the Capitol, Argus Collymore fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt. This was his first victor party, and while the older victors had given him some helpful advice, he still had no idea what to expect.
"Keep your head up," Willow had cautioned him. "This is how the president keeps tabs on us. If you look especially dreary, he'll make your life hell. This is supposed to be a party, remember?"
Argus swallowed hard before responding. "What kind of party is this? A celebration of murder?"
Willow nodded. "And you better get used to it."
That wasn't very promising. As Argus rode the elevator to the ground floor and hopped in his limousine, he truly realized just how prominent the games would be for the rest of his life. He imagined every passing building as a single year. A building, a year. Another building, another year. He pictured two dead kids lying in every doorway.
It was a gruesome image, sure, but Argus had a gruesome imagination. The games had given him one.
When Argus arrived at the venue, Willow greeted him immediately. He looked very dapper in a black tux that flattered his lean form. They shared a split-second of eye contact, and there was a flash of warning deep in Willow's eyes. Remember what I told you last week, he seemed to say.
"Hey, man. Good to see you!"
Willow nodded. "Welcome. Ebony should be here any second."
Ten seconds later, Willow's sister shuffled out of the building in her tall red heels.
"Speak of the devil," Willow said, his fake smile melting into a real one. "Argus, this is Ebony. Have you met?"
"Well, no," Argus stammered. "But… I've seen your face a lot, Ebony."
Argus shivered as Ebony stared into his eyes. There was something so all-knowing in her gaze. She moved her eyes like she'd been alive for a hundred years.
"Come in, Argus," she said with a clinical smoothness. "The place is filling up already."
There were a few victors inside: Peridot, Electra, Crow. On the elevated stage, a band was tuning their instruments. Two avoxes stood on a ladder, setting up a disco ball. The air was as tense as foggy glass. Argus felt as though a single wrong word might shatter the entire building.
President Cornelius didn't make an appearance until every victor had shown up. The victors were encouraged to dance and eat, but they mostly stood in small groups chatting nervously as the band played.
When Argus was all by himself, he sauntered over to the window and glared at the lights of the candy Capitol. The colorful civilians peering curiously through the window looked so naïve, so free. Argus' heart prickled with jealousy. He wondered if those people even knew how privileged they were.
He glanced back at the party. Some victors, goodness knows how, seemed to be legitimately enjoying themselves: Citrine, Partridge, Maximus. As Argus looked rapidly back and forth between the dance floor and the outside street, the noises blended together and cancelled out.
For once, there was silence. But it was not real silence: it was his silence.
He placed a finger on the cold glass and lost himself in the dazzling lights, dreaming about the free life he could never have.
THEN
Imagine a magical world, filled with scorching lowlands, scraggly bushes, and giant pastures. Ranches filled with dirty animals, giant fields of discarded tires, and an always-present stench that a farm worker could only ever be okay with.
All this is to say that District 10 was far from the nicest part of Panem. Classic stories of southern belles and golden-hearted cowboys were mostly myths, told by the people of District 10 in order to delude themselves that their lives were exciting.
However, not everyone worked on the ranches or in the slaughterhouses. There were honey farmers, poultry overseers, hay growers, and much more. But those jobs were nearly impossible to get unless you were born into them. In District 10, luck was always the greatest playing factor in the way your life turned out.
As far as Argus Collymore was concerned, he was the luckiest person in District 10. He got to work with snakes.
The District 10 "snake farm" was a bulky cement building established by the Capitol a few decades before the Dark Days. It was originally staffed by only Capitol scientists, but workers from 10 were eventually allowed to join the ranks. It was damp and smelly and demanded intense attention from every worker. Because of the snakes' needs, big parts of the farm were always dark, casting a spooky gloom over the rows of glass cages.
Argus loved the place. His first job was mopping up after the snakes; it was years before he was even allowed to touch them. But this seemingly-dreary job taught him his way around the building. By the time he was thirteen, Argus knew the entire farm by heart: the poison collection rooms, the computer rooms were scientific data was entered. And, of course, the slaughter room, where the non-poisonous creatures were gassed and then shipped away to the Capitol's most eccentric chefs.
Not all the snakes in the facility were harmless. Everyone remembered the day the workers were all ordered to stand on their desks because a deadly viper was on the loose. Argus kept that in mind every time he came near the cages of the more venomous specimens.
The day of the reaping, nobody had to work. Argus and his parents spent the morning tossing and turning in the sleeping chambers above the farm. He'd lived his entire life there, but it'd never scared him more than it did on that morning. The shadows themselves seemed to hiss menacingly, reminding him of the ominous reaping.
In the years after his games, the week of the reaping seemed to pass in high speed. One moment, he was lying in bed, watching the shadows reach over the floor like the hands of ghosts. The next second, he and his parents were waiting nervously in line to board the train for the district square. The next, his name was being chosen. The next, he was on the train, his mind roaring with terror as he got to know his district partner Marrietta.
They had no mentor to guide them. For the next week, their airheaded escort Delilah was their only teacher. It shouldn't come as a surprise that she wasn't much help.
Argus escaped the bloodbath unscathed. He and Marrietta spent the entire first day together, but they were forced to scatter when the rogue boy from 4 attacked them that afternoon. That was when Argus found his cave, got bitten by the snake, and hung it from the ceiling to guard him.
As he slumbered on the fifth night, dreaming fretfully of reaping balls and dark soil, the snake hissed loudly and bit into human flesh.
NOW
Argus didn't know how long he stood by the window and peered at the street. It might have been five minutes or an hour. It was hard to keep track of time in this city.
"You okay, kid?"
He turned his head around slowly. Argus recognized the narrow hazel eyes, the soft jawline immediately.
"Izzy."
"Yep, it's me."
She sat down on the windowsill. The impulsive part of Argus' mind urged him to feel her dress: the satiny orange material that seemed to fall and turn like water as she moved.
"I love your costume," he said.
She smiled. "Thanks. Yours too."
Izzy spoke in such a funny manner. Argus had to suppress a smile as he watched her face tilt and quirk. She was a curious woman – that could not be denied.
Argus wondered what to ask her; somehow, the way she looked at him seemed to draw out some kind of question. "Is it true that you come from far away?" he asked finally.
She shrugged. "Just between you and us, I wouldn't doubt it. But I have a bad memory. Maybe I'm just another kid from 9. Maybe my past is just a dream."
"If my past is a dream, it's a bad one," Argus said.
Izzy grabbed onto his hand. It was clearly a friendly gesture, not a romantic one. "We all know how you feel. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but we're all trying to talk to you. We can't make you feel welcome, but we can… you know… ease you into this place."
Izzy's eyes fell. She'd said the wrong thing.
"Thanks," Argus whispered, starting to walk away from the window. He'd been expecting the other victors to ask about his games, but none of them did. They must have known he didn't want to be reminded of his games. Of course they knew that. They'd all been in his place before.
"Hey!" Izzy cried out, jogging back to his side. "We can keep talking if you want."
But he was already lost in thought. He'd made eye contact with President Cornelius, and his body temperature seemed to have dropped ten degrees. His face was so creepy, so snakelike.
Snake. The snake that hung from the cave ceiling. The snake that warned him that he was being attacked before it was too late. He killed all of them without even thinking: slashed open the boy from 7 and the girl from 12, left the boy from 3 to die from the snake poison.
After that, the sponsors sent him a caged basket. He spent all day catching every snake he could find and dropping them into the basket. They built up in there like a mass of scaly green spaghetti, waiting for prey. He dropped a dead mouse into the basket, and the snakes burst into movement so suddenly that the cage rattled and shook. Blood flew, fur fluttered through the air, and within ten seconds only bones were left.
"Argus!"
There were snakes. A snake in the cave, snakes in the basket.
"Argus!" Izzy put a hand on his shoulder. "Argus?"
He blinked hard. His heart was beating a million miles an hour.
"Let me get you some water," Izzy said, concernedly rushing off to the snack bar.
Snakes. There was a snake in the cave, there were snakes in the basket.
THEN
He ducked behind the scruffy bush, waiting with bated breath as the dust cleared around the cornucopia. By the looks of things, all six careers were still alive. That gave him second thoughts about his plan. He glanced over his shoulder, longingly watching the safer areas of the arena.
No. It was too late to turn back now.
The past few mornings, he'd been watching the careers. Unlike most games, when they left a member or two to guard the cornucopia each day, this year's career pack did no such thing. All six of them went hunting every day.
Every part of his body shook like jelly as he jogged back to the cave. He grabbed the cage of snakes, and the creatures erupted into hissing.
The events of the next few hours blended together like images behind a foggy window. He sprinted back to the center of the arena and climbed on top of the horn, using the grooves in the metal like footholds to reach the top. There, he waited silently for the careers to return.
So many things could go wrong. The careers could spot him up there, in which case he'd be doomed without a shadow of a doubt. They could hear the noise of the snakes and choose to investigate rather than go to sleep.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," he whispered to himself, watching anxiously as the snakes in the cage slowed down to a sort of sleep. Snakes sleep with their eyes open. Argus knew that from his years in the snake farm. Sometimes, he walked into the dark housing areas late at night, and the eyes of the snakes glared back at him like a million tiny orbs glowing in the darkness.
That didn't make the metal cage-basket any less eerie to look at.
As the hours passed, he grew more and more restless. He was bored, scared, and the minor bite wounds on his hands were acting up again. The sponsors had given him some antidote in case things went wrong, and he used some of it now, sprinkling it on the gashes and welts littering his fingertips.
Surprisingly enough, the plan went perfectly. The careers returned to the horn, talked quietly among themselves, and went to sleep. They didn't even leave one person to stand guard.
It was now or never. The snakes were growing anxious, aroused by the smell of so much flesh. The creatures had ultra-sensitive smell. They'd know what to attack.
Argus crept toward the front edge of the horn, peering down at the distant ground. He unlatched the top of the basket and cast it down into the darkness.
Hiss! The creatures dropped out of their prison and lunged into action almost immediately. The six careers erupted in screams as they fell victim to the dozens of bloodthirsty mutts. Argus couldn't bear to watch or listen as all six of them died over the course of the next five minutes. He covered his ears to keep from hearing their screams, but the sound still went through.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The snakes were smart. They wanted revenge on the boy who'd kept them trapped for the last two weeks. Argus heard them hissing and imagined they were gathering around the horn, glaring upward to the platform where he was concealed. Argus prayed that the material of the cornucopia was too slippery for the serpents to climb.
It was, but that didn't discourage them. Even when morning came, the snakes remained crowded around the horn, hissing and flicking their tails to intimidate him.
Argus unzipped his pack and peered nervously at his water bottle, wondering how long he could make it last. Without a doubt, he'd be trapped up here for a very long time.
NOW
Argus Collymore from District 10 was crowned the victor of the twenty-fourth annual Hunger Games two days later. The boy from 12 got himself killed somehow or other, and the final other tribute – the girl from 5 – died in combat when the gamemakers removed the snakes so that the final fight could occur.
Argus returned to a Capitol that was rampant with foul play. There were rumors that various officials within the presidential mansion had been mysteriously murdered. President Cornelius refused to comment on the matter – rather, he showered the newest victor with lavish celebrations even more so than usual.
Distract the people with fancy food and entertainment, and they'll forget what the real problems are. Bread and circuses.
President Cornelius framed one of his assistants as the perpetrator of the various assassinations. The nation watched their televisions with bitterness as his body swung from the gallows. Something was wrong about this whole affair. He wasn't the real killer; this was merely a cover-up.
After his victor interview and victory tour, after the victor party where he learned what his real destiny was, Argus settled down as comfortably as he possibly could. He met a girl named Marrietta – what a cruel irony – and they fell in love. They lived happily ever after, and their wedding was broadcast to all Panem.
Of course, this was another cover-up. A killer was still on the loose in the presidential mansion – the person President Cornelius would last have suspected.
One day, President Cornelius drank a glass of brandy that was just a little too sour. The man who'd poisoned his drink sat chuckling in the servant's quarters of the mansion.
The nation of Panem would be seeing much, much more of him in the years to come.
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 (2 Victors): Georgio Bronte (8th), Burton Flax (22nd)
District 9 (1 Victor): Izzy Mayfleet (17th)
District 10 (1 Victor): Argus Collymore (24th)
District 11 (2 Victors): Bluebell Singer (5th), Crow Kensington (20th)
District 12 (1 Victor): Canary Roselock (10th)
A/N: I had so much fun writing this chapter! It's my headcanon that all kinds of animal captivity, raising, and research take place in District 10 – not just the slaughtering of big livestock. I'm so glad I finally got to explore that with this chapter. It's almost like the snake motif foreshadows the rise of a certain political figure in Panem's government… hmmm….
So yeah, the first Quarter Quell is next. For such a unique Hunger Games, it's weird that we know so little about it from canon. But, of course, that gives us writers lots of room to be imaginative! So stay tuned for that.
Thanks again for reading and reviewing, it's great to know you guys are enjoying. See you next time!