Sarmiento Polar Torres, 22.
Victor of the 203rd Hunger Games.
March 21st, 208 ADD.
District 2 was going up in flames, and all Sarmiento could do was watch it burn to the ground.
Curled up in front of the TV, all he could do was watch as the Capitol scrambled to smooth things over, to assure everyone it was nothing, that the problem would be fixed in no time. But Sarmi knew otherwise, or at least he thought he did. He'd been in District 2 just a few months before, for a journalism piece about the Peacekeeping forces based there. There was a strange, uneasy air, which he supposed could've come from the disaster of Revan Allerix's Victory tour showing there. But there was something else boiling under the surface. Whispers of a sickness, a disease, something called khrusos ingnis- the Golden Flames.
And so Sarmiento watched as the Capitol continued to scramble, trying to bear the weight of such a disaster, while the deaths and bodies inevitably piled up, more and more and more. That was until the President appeared after days of waiting, waiting for a shred of news or for the dam to break.
And broke with a flood it did.
President Snow said everything was okay, that the disease had caused a handful of fatalities but that they had everything under control. That they were locking the District down and evacuating those who they could get out to District 1. As for the rest who couldn't be pulled out, they were to stay behind, under the watchful eyes of the Peacekeepers. Everything was under control, and everything would be fine.
But those were empty words, empty promises. Upon the announcement, the entirety of District 1 was plunged into chaos. Where the luxury District was once open and welcoming to those coming from District 2, they had now turned on their Career counterparts. There were whispers all across the gilded streets; what if they brought this virus with them? What if District 1 was infected as well? Riots broke out as the Capitol's lapdog fought back for once, protesting the presence of these refugees and what they could bring along with them.
And Sarmiento found himself in the middle of all of this, despite this not being his problem. But somebody had to document and report what was happening, and Sarmiento Polar Torres sure as hell wasn't just going to sit around and do nothing.
Standing in the midst of a rioting crowd, notebook in hand, put things in perspective. District 2 had gone up in flames, and District 1 was going down with it. This was no place for a Victor, surrounded by those who were protesting against the very Capitol who gave him everything he had. And yet he remained; he stayed in the pressing crowd. He wasn't protesting, no, he couldn't be protesting. He was a Victor! He had a reputation to uphold. He simply found himself in the midst of these riots in the square time after time, beneath the harsh spotlights in the bitter cold, for some reason that he didn't quite know.
No. Sarmi knew why he was there, out in the bitter cold amidst the throngs of protestors. More than anything, he wanted answers, whether they were good or bad. Somehow, Sarmiento would get to the bottom of why District 2 had been brought to its knees. And search for answers he would, talking to anyone he could think of who may know something, documenting the process as he went. It wasn't likely that he'd get anywhere - if the Capitol wanted to keep its secrets, it would - but it was more the thought that counted. His search for answers consumed him, not letting him go for over three years.
But, in the end the golden flames would be quelled, and District 2 would begin to put itself back together, but not without major losses. Over a third of their population contracted the virus and a quarter of the population was wiped out, and District 2 hadn't produced a volunteer since the year 207, meaning that for 3 years running now all of their tributes had died early, if not in the Bloodbath. It was a tragedy of epic proportions, to say the least. And it all still remained a mystery; nobody truly knew what happened.
But getting to the bottom of that lingering mystery would have to wait a few days longer as he was currently running late to the Academy. They were supposed to be deciding the male volunteer, the one he'd be mentoring. And he was late, so late, in fact, that he couldn't help making a fool of himself as he rounded the corner, hurrying through the large gateway of the training academy. Pushing through the clusters and crowds of trainers and trainees, he could tell they were all looking at him. It wasn't every day that an esteemed Victor ran through the training academy, especially on such an important day. He haphazardly turned another corner, finally arriving at the set of stairs he was looking for. Sarmiento, cursing internally to himself, bound up them, taking the stairs two at a time. His fellow Victors wouldn't let him forget this one, certainly not, he thought, as he burst into the viewing room.
Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at him, his fellow Victors; Isia Wayne, Constantine Leblanc, and District 1's most recent winner, Elysium Cullinan.
"Oh, so you finally decided to show up, huh?" Isia said with a sharp laugh as she rose to her feet.
"Did I miss anything important?" Sarmiento replied, panting for air as he took his seat next to Ellie. It had only taken Sarmiento seven years before he brought home a Victor for his District, and he still couldn't quite comprehend that Ellie was alive, there, right next to him. It only affirmed that he was doing something correctly as a mentor, which was a true blessing after all this time.
"Nah, just the first couple sparring rounds, nothing too particularly interesting," Constantine responded gruffly, seeming annoyed about Sarmiento's tardiness. He knew Constantine would've berated him more if given the chance, but they had a tournament to pay attention to - well, more of a full-out battle. Rather than having trainees go up against each other one on one, the top ten trainees of each gender were split into two groups of five, each group forced to fight it out in a sort of brawl. Then, the winners of each group went up against each other, with the overall winner named the chosen volunteer for that year's Games. It was horrifically barbaric, but it worked well enough, and as it continued to produce the best volunteers, there was no sign of a change to the format anytime soon.
Sarmiento barely had time to catch his breath before it was time for the first brawl of the afternoon, the first of the boys' rounds. Sarmi sat taking notes on what weapon each boy wielded and how he fought. It wasn't anything too new, given that the fights were effectively the same rinse and repeat system that they'd been for years. In fact, Sarmi remembered his fight well, and it had been no different from the fight that he was watching, even though it had been nearly a decade ago. Soon enough a winner was decided, a boy by the name of Clifford Armani. He bowed in the general direction of the Victors and stepped out of the ring so the second fight could begin.
This one was different, however. Rather than the cold, tense silence that usually blanketed these fights, broken only by the clashing of weapons and footsteps, this fight was accompanied by the soundtrack of a strange sort of chatter. It was emitting from one boy in particular, a particularly boisterous trainee named Chiffon Shivaan. He seemed to be joking and chatting as he easily dispatched each of his competitors. That was rather intriguing to Sarmiento, and definitely something to note, as it stood in sharp contrast to the more stoic, serious demeanors of the rest of the volunteer candidates.
"That kid's something, isn't he?" Constantine called out to the group of Victors, pointing to Chiffon, who had just taken out his final opponent. Sarmiento could see the grin plastered on his face all the way from the viewing balcony, as the boy took a large, dramatic bow. "He's a cocky one. Seems like he'd be a nightmare to mentor." Constantine continued.
"Well, he's obviously very skilled; he just took out all those other kids," Isia countered, leaning back in her seat.
"Talent only takes you so far when you're cocky, Isia. You should know that by now."
"We don't know if he's too confident yet though. We're only here to observe them fight," Sarmiento snapped. He was not in the mood for Constantine's antics this fine morning. Constantine had been a mentor for almost 30 years; he should know better than to judge based on nothing. He didn't even know the kid personally.
"What do you know, huh? You're-" Constantine started, but was cut off by an unexpected voice.
"So what if he's cocky? If he wins, he's the one we choose," Elysium piped up, speaking for the first time since Sarmiento had arrived that morning. He had just about forgotten she was there; she'd been quiet, most likely observing not just the trainees but also the other Victors. Constantine wrinkled his nose in annoyance but went quiet, watching as the two finalists faced up for the final fight. Unsurprisingly, the Shivaan boy came out on top of the second fight, taking out his fellow competitor gracefully, without even breaking a sweat or breaking off the incessant stream of words coming from his mouth. Chiffon let out a loud whoop as he was announced as the winner, cheering for himself with more vigour than any member of the surrounding crowd. Sarmiento watched as the boy bounced out of the training ring.
"He's gonna be a handful for you two," Isia said, vocalizing Sarmiento's exact thoughts as she stood with a stretch.
"That's fine. We can handle anything, right, Ellie?" Sarmiento responded, nudging his mentee with his elbow. Ellie opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Constantine stormed out of the room, muttering something about how stupid they were and how District 1 was guaranteed a loss if they let those kinds of people volunteer. The remaining trio watched as the door swung shut behind the older Victor.
"Oh, well, somebody's in a bad mood today, huh?" Ellie said, breaking the silence with a snippy comment. Elysium wasn't usually the kind to say things of that sort, which caught Sarmiento off guard.
"Oh, don't worry about that old grump. You two talk or whatever; I'll go speak to him," Isia said, snickering to herself as she followed suit, exiting the room.
"Isia's right, it'll be fine. I won't let your first year of mentoring be complete garbage," Sarmiento said as he closed his notebook, shoving it into his bag haphazardly. "You know what you're doing. I'm not worried."
"Thank you?" Ellie replied, her tone confused.
"You're welcome. Now let's get another Victor home, how 'bout that?" Sarmiento said with a smile, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he stood.
"Isn't that the whole point of all this?" Ellie replied, gesturing at the training floor before them. She was right, that was the whole point of the training academies: to bring Victors home.
"Well, yeah. I gotta get going anyways. I'll see you tomorrow," Sarmiento said, patting his mentee on the shoulder before stepping out of the room. He felt good about this year. With District 2 out of their way, it was the perfect opportunity for District 1 to claim the crown of top Career District. These Games were going to be a cinch for 1; hopefully, there'd be some time in the Capitol to continue his investigation into whatever was going on in Two.
But nothing could've prepared Sarmiento for what his investigation would uncover.
*Pokes head in the door* Hi there! Welcome to [gestures] New Perspective. We've got some new characters kicking around the place, y'all are getting a little sneak peek into one of our tributes, Chiffon. Regardless this SYOT is wide fucking open, so if you'd like to submit me a kiddo hit me up on Discord as I will only be accepting tributes from Discord peeps.
Anyways, that is just the first prologue! We have more to come, specifically next chapter we're gonna be going to say hello to a personal favourite of mine, Revan. One of the fun parts about time skips is that everyone ages up real quick so he's 18 now? And Sarmiento is 25? Weird. Anyways I'll see y'all with that soon! Oh also be on the lookout, there should be a oneshot SYOT coming which will be Ellie's games, which I'll be writing alongside NP here. Congrats to Mister Dirt on his first victor though?
Regardless, peace out bitches!
-Times