A/N: This is the longest chapter so far and it's not even close. I just had so many ideas and it was pretty nice how they all fell down together if you know what I mean. Career victors can be so fun to explore. What must it be like to see murdering children as not only an honorable thing but a milestone in one's life? Meet Riletta Esteban, the carnage-obsessed girl from District 1 who is nonetheless focused on just searching for her place in the wide world.
Riletta Esteban from District 1
Victor of the Thirtieth Annual Hunger Games
Blood was such a beautiful color. She went to the butcher every day after work just to see it. Checked out of the soap factory and shuffled down the street, past the jeweler and the perfumer to the little corner store where meat was sold. District 1 produced more meat than any district except District 10. Cinnamon-flavored beef and spiced venison and rich, earthy pork. The jewel district was Panem's hotspot for fine cuisine.
It was wonderful, Riletta thought, to watch the blood flow down the counter. It moved like water but somehow so much more calculating. Like it had a mind of its own. It twisted and turned, running through the entire spectrum of red before drying into a crusty black shade.
She'd killed animals multiple times before. Not to eat them. Just to see the pretty shades of red.
As far as Riletta was concerned, the only thing missing from the Academy was blood. Her parents had enrolled her at age eight and since then she'd spent a good chunk of her entire life there. Students lived on the premises nine months out of the year. There was a three month break during the summer months, with an additional month-long break for Capitolmas. There was no need to add an extra break for the Hunger Games because they were always held at the end of June while summer break was in session.
Summer was Riletta's least favorite season. It was because she was hiding so many stinky things. It is difficult to conceal smells in the heat.
After her visit to the butcher, she squirmed under her bed. It was a tight fit. There was something comforting about the wooden surface squeezing down on her. She was the only one in her house thin and crafty enough to reach the things that were under here.
She shook open the vent. The stench was momentarily overpowering; she pulled her collar over her nose. Her hand felt in the darkness for a pair of gloves. They were worn from years of use. She had to clean them often to keep fungus from growing on them. It wasn't an irrational fear given the number of disgusting things they touched on a regular basis.
Her pupils dilated and her blood rushed into her head as she pulled her creation out of the uncovered vent.
It was part mouse and part squirrel. She'd scavenged the dead animals from the recesses of the hills surrounding the little perfume town where she lived. The animals piled up at the bottoms of the hills, either pulled downward by gravity or dumped out of the town. If she saw a dead creature in perfect condition, she always took it home with her.
This creature, though, was unique. It was one of her experiments. She'd cut two animals apart and sewed them together like a dark magic ritual. Riletta, though, didn't believe in magic. It was just wonderful to put their body parts together in ways the gods hadn't intended. Like mixing and matching pieces of a puzzle.
She prodded at the creature lightly with a little metal rod. This was her last day staying at home: tomorrow, she'd be off to the Academy. Class wasn't in session, but the two chosen volunteers were required to report to the Academy the week before the reaping. The press was waiting for them there.
"Almost…" The word escaped Riletta's lips as a ghost-whisper. She'd been plucking the creature's whiskers carefully for several minutes by the time she was finished.
Unfortunately, it was time for her little project to reach its conclusion. The critter simply stank too much to keep it hidden any longer. Besides, it was time to move on. Some kind of mold had taken root in the squirrel's tail. The blood had completely dried. It just wasn't fun anymore.
She tossed it out the window, landing it squarely in the garbage bin across the street. As far as she knew, she'd never been caught. A little grin spread over her lips. Maybe her mind was already churning and burning with new ideas.
Riletta wiggled out from under the bed and slipped out the bedroom door. Her mother would be home by now. She was one of the older women of District 1 who was unpopular in social circles because she didn't like jewels and her husband was a scold. Riletta always suspected the reason she'd enrolled her daughter in the academy was because she hoped to build some kind of name for herself. And Riletta was more than glad to give it her best shot.
"What's that smell?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. There was a bundle of grapes on the counter.
Riletta shrugged. "Maybe it's the perfumer." All the scents tended to blend together into something rather repulsive.
She cocked her head. "Just keep an eye out, will you?"
"I will."
You could cut the awkwardness with a knife. As far as Riletta could remember, she hadn't been able to form a strong connection with her mother. Something was lacking. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't known her as a baby because she'd lived briefly at a nursery in the Capitol. Or maybe something broke when she left Riletta's father that never healed again.
She had dreams that her mother's blood was black.
"I'm very proud of you, you know," her mother murmured. She'd sat down at the table. It might have been an attempt to make their eyes level.
Riletta popped a grape into her mouth. "Wish me luck." She couldn't get over how clunky her words felt.
She raised her eyebrows. Clearly, she wasn't happy with Riletta's response.
There was so much separation in her life. Separation between flesh and blood. Between school and home. Between the world everyone saw – the world where people had to act a certain way to be liked – and the world she kept to herself – where squirrels could have bird heads and blood could think and feel.
The moment she entered the games, she knew all of her separate worlds would collide. It was a weirdly comforting thought.
"They'll remember you forever, you know," her mother murmured, still nervous. "The plaque in the Academy. They'll add your name to it."
"Being remembered forever isn't what I'm worried about."
"You've been acting so different lately." She wrung her hands. "I just want to understand you before you go away. That's all I've ever wanted. I love you so much."
That gave her pause. She hadn't been anticipating such a solemn conversation when she came down for dinner.
"I just…" This was difficult. "I just want to be seen as something nobody expects from me."
Her mother sighed, her features lightening. "I think that's the most wonderful thing in the world."
The reaping was a shit-show for everyone except Riletta Esteban.
In the first place, the weather weighed down on everybody's spirits. It had been raining all day, and the children who would normally be playing joyfully and teasing the cameramen were huddled under their parents' umbrellas. Thick, dark clouds rolled in moments before the ceremony was set to begin. The rain was about to get even worse.
Riletta felt like a celebrity for the first moment in her life. The chosen volunteers didn't get a special section in the audience: they had to stand among the ranks of teenagers just like everyone else. She was swarmed in a matter of moments. Friends offering their congratulations. Other Academy students glaring at her with vicious envy. Perplexed peers who had heard rumors of the things she did when she was alone. Things that were unspeakable.
"Good afternoon, District 1!" the escort cried, shaking in her feathery black jacket. Riletta was distinctly reminded of a vulture shaking off its feathers after a bird bath. "First, the formalities."
The same old informational video played through over the loudspeakers. Then the mayor was introduced. The mayors of Districts 1 and 2 had direct connections with the Capitol. There were even rumors they'd gotten their jobs by bribing the president. In any case, the district mayors were more ceremonial figureheads than anything. President Snow had the final say in every act of legislation in Panem.
"In the history of the Hunger Games, four tributes from your very own District 1 have brought home the Victor's Crown. Citrine Whitacre!"
She strutted out in a delicate white dress that seemed to flutter around her, flattering her unique frame.
"Peridot Partridge!"
She emerged in a deep red dress reminiscent of the one she'd worn during her interview twelve years ago. It was almost a running tradition for her.
"Vintner Aphelion!"
The most recent victor glided out of the wings, fitted in a black suit with a blue bow tie.
There was one victor missing, of course. Luxor Dodge. They were told he'd fallen suddenly ill around the time of the first Quell. Nobody outside of Snow's inner circle knew how the victor of the first Hunger Games had really died. His place was filled by Charmian Lux, the man who'd "won" the fifteenth games by serving as Patron for the tribute who eventually became the victor.
While the escort gave her speech about the meaning of the Hunger Games, chaos stirred in the ranks of the audience. The chosen male volunteer, Cologne Richards, was making things difficult. Either he had a sudden change or heart or he didn't want to enter the arena alongside Riletta, because the Academy staff members were now scowling at him rather than watching him with pride.
Riletta was so distracted trying to catch him with her eyes that she hardly even noticed the swoosh of the escort's gloved hand flying into the reaping ball.
"Sa…"
"I volunteer as tribute!"
It went just the way she'd always hoped. Every eye was on her. The escort was glowing with happiness. The cameras were broadcasting her to the Capitol at this very moment.
"What's your name, dear?"
"Riletta Esteban."
And there she was. The daughter of the family nobody cared about. About to enter a world where blood wasn't just tolerated – it was encouraged. A world where she could decide what she would be remembered for.
The raindrops slid off of the stage in torrents. Twisting and dripping almost like blood itself.
She found herself transfixed on Peridot Partridge's dress as the escort hurried over to the boys' reaping ball. It was such even, rich red. The shade of a cherry mixed with dark earth.
"Garter Ward!"
Silence.
The escort, and the entire square, waited with bated breath for the volunteer to step forward. But nobody came.
"Garter Ward! Come to the stage, please."
He was a scrawny brown-haired kid who'd certainly never been to the Academy a day in his life.
Why the chosen male volunteer never stepped forward, Riletta would never find out. Nobody really ever knew for sure. The most common theory was that he had some kind of bad blood with Riletta and didn't want to go into the arena with her, fearing she wouldn't respect the safety of the career alliance to the degree required for said alliance to prosper and gain popularity with the crowd.
And he was right. In the thirtieth annual Hunger Games, Riletta Esteban would unleash a systematic killing spree on the other careers, knocking them off one by one without her surviving allies suspecting a thing. She would climb her way to the victor's throne through treachery, betrayal, and a whole ton of bloodshed. And they would remember her forever.
Naturally, Riletta wasn't the only remarkably vicious career. It became clear in the training center that this year's pack was significantly better than last year's. The Academies had kicked training levels into overdrive after the rather humiliating failure of the careers last year, and the results were certain to be just as bloody as Riletta would have liked.
District 2 provided the strongest pair. The boy, Luxus, had roots in District 1; his parents had met and married there before going off to District 2 on government business. Riletta could never quite decide how to feel about him; observing him was especially important. Her plan to gradually exterminate the other careers over the course of the games had to start the moment the first day of training kicked off: from this moment onward, knowing the strengths and weaknesses of each of her "allies" was beyond crucial.
"The kid who got reaped in District 1," Luxus piped in at lunch one day. "Garter. I'm assuming he's untrained."
Riletta took a bite of her sandwich before responding. It took a concentrated effort to seem unsuspicious as she eyed the others carefully.
"That's right. And even if he wasn't, well…"
She gestured at the mousy little kid at the end of the table. He must have sensed he was being watched, because his hands started moving quickly. His hands always moved quickly when he was feeling nervous.
The other half of the District 2 team, the muscular, masculine Ariadne, was surprisingly friendly given her intimidating appearance and her thirst for blood. She didn't seem to like it when Luxus went out of his way to intimidate the others. "They already know who we are," Ariadne reasoned. "And besides, the gamemakers don't like it when you do that."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Ariadne shrugged. "I just don't see the appeal of being an asshole just for fun."
The pair from 4, Sander and Corsica, ate and trained by themselves. None of the other careers liked this behavior, because the pack needed to stick together in a scenario where there was already one member missing, but there wasn't much they could do without risking some sort of feud that would shatter the already unstable group.
Riletta didn't spend training watching the outliers. She spent it watching the careers. She imagined it as she drifted off, sitting down or in bed: turning them inside out, showing all the bright colors. The running roadmap of red and blue that thumped and pulsed under their skin. It was beautiful, she thought, to know that everybody had blood inside of them.
"My last name means Victor, you know," she told them one day at the spear station. "It's like a good luck charm."
It couldn't hurt to come off as a little idealistic, could it?
Luxus would have to be taken down with a sword. He was easily disturbed and very sensitive, which indicated he might have been a light sleeper. Ariadne would be easy to get rid of using poison. She ate everything she could find. Sander would probably have fallen victim to a carefully-crafted ambush. And Corsica would have to be killed in her sleep because she could hear every sound in a ten mile radius no matter what she was doing.
Oh, yeah. She was already forming her master plan.
Interview night wasn't nearly as rousing as many of the Capitolites were hoping for. It was filled with crying kids and stumbled-over words. Many viewers clicked off their television screens by the time the girl from 6 had taken the spotlight. Riletta's interview wasn't terribly thrilling either. The main reason it brought her such a following was because she had the very first slot.
She waltzed out in a seductive, light-pink dress, merrily greeting the fresh audience. The victors were sitting in the very front row. She turned her head in the bright stage lights and caught a glimpse of Peridot, garbled in her crimson dress, nestled between Crow and Ether in the front row.
"Riletta Esteban! Good evening!"
The chair fit the size of her body to an almost strange degree. Like it had been specifically designed for her.
She looked into Caesar Flickerman's face for a brief moment while she waited for the audience to quiet down. Red lipstick layered so thick it could be seen from miles away. Lips are red because of the blood vessels densely packed under the skin. It seemed almost rude to cover that up with artificial coloring. Something pinged deep in her chest. Something angry.
"Welcome to the Capitol, Riletta," Caesar beamed, his hair bouncing around his heart-shaped face. "How are you enjoying it here?"
"It's wonderful, Caesar. The buildings are so big."
"And?"
"The food is wonderful."
"And?" A huge grin crossed his face.
"There's so many amazing people."
"I'm sure you were referring to me with that statement," he joked. "Weren't you?"
"Oh, of course."
The time was ticking away. It was almost unsettling how fast time could slip away while on a stage.
"I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say I'm very curious about your background, Riletta," Caesar said, his tone turning more serious in a jokey way. "What's it like back home? Got anyone special? Tell us everything."
A puzzle piece fell into place deep in her mind. Tell us everything. She had to make a splash. It was now or never.
Tell us everything. And tell everything she did.
She told them about knives and needles and rats. She told them about the times she'd cut herself at the soap factory and the time her schoolmate had been beaten within an inch of her life by the perfumer. She wanted to restrain herself, at least a little bit, but something about Caesar Flickerman's ruby red lips kept her from slowing down. There was so much blood inside of him. So much blood inside of everybody.
"Woah!" Caesar interjected, masterfully cutting her off before she could explain the full details of how an arrow can make someone bleed to death. Such strong descriptions of violence couldn't possibly be allowed on a family show like the Hunger Games.
"What is it, Caesar?" She squinted her face in mock innocence.
"I just thought it was wonderful how many ideas you've got," he remarked. "A lot goes on in that head of yours. I'd ask if you have any plans for the arena, but it seems like we already know what those are."
She let out a slight laugh. It was not nearly so childish as a giggle, but it was close.
"I guess I'm just a very thoughtful young lady," she said with a wink.
"I have no doubts," Caesar said, trailing off a little. Clearly, he was trying to forcibly draw the interview to a natural close in time for the buzzer.
She traipsed off of the stage, enveloped by the applause like a rush of warm water. Warm blood, rather. Many of the viewers looked more confused than anything.
Backstage, Riletta just smiled. Surely they'd remember her now.
When the tributes entered the arena, they were expecting to be greeted with some kind of outdoor landscape. They realized very quickly that was not going to happen. The air was too still. Too quiet.
All they saw was a dim, freezing-cold cement chamber. They were in a large, circular room with plain grey walls and upholstery made of tough steel. It was a rather unattractive design; even the cement cornucopia was hideous, a hollow block of steel situated in the center of the pedestal ring.
They were in the central cafeteria of an enormous prison. It was rife with cells, court yards, offices, a library, and much more. The prison was shaped like a wagon wheel, with six long "spokes" (dark hallways with flickering lights and lots of tricky false turns) which spread out from the horn. There were no physical mutts this year. Instead, the arena was haunted by the ghosts of the prison's former inhabitants. They roamed freely around the prison, screaming and moaning terrifyingly at the tributes. They could not physically harm them, but their presence was enough to drive anyone crazy. Time would tell how many tributes would lose their very sanity before the games were resolved.
Riletta made the first kill. She was the first tribute to make her way through the ranks of scattered tables and reach the horn, where the entire array of weapons was placed. She took a bow and fired into the crowd, targeting the boy from 7. He was dead before he even knew what had hit him.
"Nice shot," Corsica shouted, taking a bow of her own. "You take the left side. I'll take the right side."
They fell into formation always instantly. Riletta and Corsica split the cafeteria into two equal sections, sweeping back and forth with their lethal arrows. Meanwhile, Ariadne and Sander ran through the ranks of outliers with their swords, cutting down tribute after tribute.
The thought crossed Riletta's mind that the five careers were like cells working together toward the common goal of keeping some greater organism alive. The organism in question was the creature of bloodshed, the very prospect of blood and slaughter that had propelled career tributes for decades.
That was when she saw it. Sitting under a chair ten meters from the cornucopia.
It was a bladed whip.
Her feet were moving ten seconds before her brain had time to catch up, and she snatched up the weapon, swinging it back and forth. The tails of the whip danced around the leather handle, the spikes tinkling against each other like a wind chime in a breeze.
The boy from 6 went down in a screaming fit as Riletta flung the weapon onto his back. The teeth sank into his flesh, the long leather straps wrapping around his entire abdomen. Skin was ripped and torn away. Blood flew and screams ravenously echoed around the tight space like thunder as she struck again and again, tearing off one of his arms with the fierce bite of her deadly weapon.
With his arm torn off, he reminded her so much of the rat-squirrel creature she'd perfected and then tossed away the night before she left for her final Academy visit.
"What are you doing? Get back to work!"
It was Luxus, the de facto pack leader. Riletta realized very suddenly and very sheepishly that she'd been standing completely still for more than ten seconds, staring at the mangled dead body of the boy from 6.
She garnered two more victims before the bloodbath was over. First, the girl from 12 fell under the deadly bite of the whip. She didn't have nearly enough blood inside of her small body to last long once the teeth punctured her flesh. Then, Riletta attacked the pair from 5, who were trying to escape down one of the hallways with a pack containing loaves of bread. The boy stumbled to his hands and knees in terror, knocking down the girl in his descent. By the time Riletta had struck him with the whip, the girl was already dead. Plunged a dagger into her own heart.
Despite the cafeteria being completely empty of anything alive apart from the careers, Luxus was far from finished.
"We'd better search the halls," he commanded. "Make sure nobody's hiding. Make sure nobody has any ideas."
He jerked a finger in Riletta's direction. "Riletta! Sander! You two go to the left. Corsica, take the right side."
The ghost mutts of the arena weren't out and about yet, but Riletta could still sense that something was distinctly off about the entire space. There were creepy whispers, rushes of cold air whenever she moved between rooms.
"We should split up," Sander suggested. "Take a look at more spaces more quickly."
She shook her head. Even if she wasn't planning to kill him, it would have been a bad idea. Being alone somewhere like this, even for a moment, was surely enough to drive someone crazy.
Sander responded to her objection with a shrug. "Well, let's get to it."
He was a surprisingly fast and helpful partner. They found several locked rooms immediately adjacent to the cafeteria, but broke down the doors without much difficulty. They were held closed by thin chains that would have served as sufficient weapons for any outliers who had no better options. They took them and stashed them in the cornucopia.
Sander sighed. "We'd better go back now. Luxus will want us together. Before the first hunt. The first official hunt, anyway."
There was a flush in Riletta's chest. A cold, trilling feeling of foreboding.
The first of the ghost mutts emerged from around the corner. It was the figure of a young woman, wringing her hands and traipsing lightly over the ground in a pale white gown. She didn't seem to have wandered out of somewhere, or even to have existed for more than a few moments at all; she'd simply appeared out of thin air.
They drew their weapons, backing away from the wraith slowly. It let out a scream that was far too deep and too hoarse for a lady her size. It reminded Riletta of the noise of an old man dying slowly.
"The hell?" Sander cried out.
And those were the last words he ever spoke, because at that moment Riletta yanked an arrow out of her quiver and fired into his back. He screamed briefly, groaning out of fear or pain or more likely both as his life left him. He fell to his hands and knees and only managed a brief look in Riletta's direction before his cannon sounded.
Now she was alone with the ghost.
There was something incredibly familiar about it: the shape of its face, the way it held its hands over its belly. Something about its appearance was almost intrusive, like the gamemakers had created it with a deep and private part of her in mind.
It, she realized a moment later, was her mother. The countenance was blurred and the way she held herself was definitely different, but she was unmistakable. Her mother had always been a source of confusion in her life. Seeing her in such a different form – a different plane of existence entirely – was comforting in an odd way. This was a fresh start. This was a whole new world, and she was its ruler.
The other careers were naturally suspicious when Riletta told them about Sander's tragic "death-by-ghost".
"Why should we believe you?" Corsica cried out skeptically. "You never liked her, did you?"
Ariadne tried to calm things down a little. "You saw them, didn't you?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The ghosts."
"Ridiculous."
Corsica had seen them. Many of them; the arena was teeming with them. But she had a stubborn knack for denying anything she could in order to manipulate others into her worldview. Maybe having such a strict, straight path in mind was what led to her downfall. But that's a story for another day.
"Show us your arrows," Luxus ordered.
She showed them.
"There's blood on that one."
"They call it the bloodbath for a reason, you moron," Ariadne barked.
The argument was dropped eventually. Riletta slunk into the shadows for the rest of the day; being on Luxus' bad side so early wasn't a good situation in which to be. Things cooled down quite a lot over the rest of the day, but tensions were still running high. Corsica and Ariadne weren't the problem; it was Luxus that kept driving the rest of them off the deep end.
That night, the ghosts came from every corner of the prison and swarmed the cornucopia, circling it in a terrifying parade of undead mischief. Their huffing and screaming was terrifying even to the careers, who could do nothing but lie awake with their hands clamped over their ears as the ghost menagerie went about their strange ritual. Across the arena, a number of the outliers had already lost their minds. They would not be the last.
Day 2 was pretty uneventful as far as the Hunger Games went.
Ariadne rose first. Corsica had fallen asleep during her guard shift, but Ariadne agreed not to tell Luxus for fear of another scuffle breaking out. Riletta didn't even find out until that evening, after they'd finished hunting for the day.
Luxus wanted three of them to hunt in one pack while one person stayed at the cornucopia. Surprisingly, the others were able to overrule him. Ariadne – and Riletta, who finally admitted that splitting up might not have been the worst idea – wanted to break into smaller groups, maybe even to hunt individually and meet back at the horn at a given time.
"Such a big pack just isn't necessary," Riletta reasoned. "It's not like we're outside. We don't need to hunt in a large group."
"She's right," Ariadne said. "We could cover more ground. More hallway space, anyway. It's the best plan."
Luxus shrugged. "Fair enough. Go wherever you'd like. Let's take two hallways each, for now."
Corsica volunteered to stay at the cornucopia while the others hunted. Riletta wondered whether she was doing it just to please Luxus. Or maybe she needed a day to get her game plan in order before she actually went hunting. Whatever it was, none of the others complained. They were all eager to get out and about, and, despite the horrors of the abandoned prison, they were itching to explore it.
Riletta spent more time exploring than actually hunting, in fact. Many rooms in the prison were awkwardly sectioned off, leading in strange directions to confuse the tributes. The only regions Riletta refrained from exploring were the cell areas; the risk of getting trapped somewhere was just too great.
The boy from 8 did not have luck on his side. The day was less than halfway over when he found himself trapped in the maze of cells, networks of steel walls and iron bars surrounding him on all sides. What he didn't know was that the bars periodically rose up and down, sometimes coordinated specifically to trap tributes in patterns of connected rooms with no way out.
Riletta and Luxus had a short meeting halfway through the day, on accident. Unbeknownst to both of them, they'd wandered into each other's regions. They saw each other from about twenty meters away, hurriedly drawing their weapons and squinting in the faint flickering light.
"Trigger-happy, aren't we?" Riletta laughed.
He raised his eyebrows. "I guess so. Any luck today?"
"I heard footsteps a ways back. Explored for a while but didn't find anything. You?"
"Not me," Luxus said, lowering his head. "Corsica had a lucky shot, though."
"Isn't she at the horn?"
"There was an outlier siege," he explained. "The pair from 7. They're both dead. But I'll be heading back soon. Best be armed to the teeth if that happens again."
Riletta felt her quiver of arrows burning into her back. No, she couldn't kill him now. It was too soon. It would arouse suspicion instantly. And he certainly wouldn't go down without a fight.
She did nothing but nod. "Great. I'll be back late evening. Maybe a little later."
"Good luck."
There was a beep, and a silver parachute twinkled through a fake area in the ceiling. She read the note and smiled. It seemed like a sure sign her mentor Vintner knew what she was planning. The text of the note was exactly two words long:
Him next.
Three days passed without another death. Despite the close quarters of the arena, which the careers originally figured would make hunting easier and faster, the outliers found incredible ways to hide effectively. The boy from 3, Chip, was the best example. Using a sponsor gift of paper and pen, he'd made a careful map of the twists and turns of the hallways in the prison. He designated three locations as the "twisting points", meaning they provided both comprehensive shelter and supplies while also leaving many routes for escape. It would have been difficult for a career or mutt to corner him in one of those spots. This brain wave earned him quite a lot of sponsor attention.
Luxus' mentor, Maximus, sent him a note on Day 4 alerting him about Chip's sudden popularity. Only Corsica could remember his appearance; he'd been an unassuming, quiet character during training and even his interview was bland. He wasn't strong, but he was smart, and that might have been enough to get him far in the contest.
Riletta had fallen into a solid daily rhythm by the fourth day. She chatted with Corsica during breakfast, did her honorable share of labor at and around the cornucopia, then went hunting all day, returning around nightfall. Time was difficult to discern in such a closed space; various holes and crevices in the ceiling had to be used if one was to tell what time of day it was.
On Day 6, Riletta finally struck gold. Ariadne's mentor sent her a pair of flashlights, and she gave one to Riletta, which let her scout the floors of the hallways carefully for signs of footsteps or other human movement. She caught on almost instantly and followed them to a little chamber where the boy from 11 was curled up on the ground, snoozing softly. He was meters from the nearest open courtyard: the burst of fresh air and sunlight must have been enough of a relief to send him dozing off.
BOOM!
She took a quick moment to pillage him of his supplies before running back into the depths of the ugly cement arena. But that wasn't the only thing she had to do before the hovercraft took away his body. She had another errand to run.
She knelt on the ground and pulled the quiver off her shoulder, shaking each and every arrow into her palm. Ran every one through his blood until each of them was tipped with dark-red liquid. Someone watching her might have been reminded of a child in a candy shop.
This chore, though, wasn't done for sadistic pleasure. It was a precaution.
That night, she showed the blood-tipped arrows to her allies. Luxus questioned why every arrow had been necessary to kill just one tribute. She amended her claim to say she'd taken down two tributes, supported by the extra cannon shot around halfway through the day (some tribute or other across the arena had gone mad from his ghost tormentors and killed himself). Now, she was free to strategically knock down one of the other careers without arousing nearly as much suspicion as before. If she was found laboriously cleaning her arrows afterward, she could blame it on the boy from 11 and his imaginary dead friend rather than admitting she'd betrayed the alliance.
Fortunately, the opportunity to kill Luxus was handed straight to her.
The morning of Day 7, Ariadne arose first like she always did. But this time, her plan was to do something other than slave away at the horn and then hunt. She tossed a rope and pile of supplies into a bag, gathered up all the food she could carry, and raised her voice to a roar.
"I'm leaving. And if you have a problem with that, come find me later and kill me!"
"Why don't I kill you right now?" Luxus asked.
She gestured smugly at the nearest camera. "They'll hate you for it."
And she was right. A career rage-killing another career before the final eight was universally seen as a bad move. Riletta only got away with it because she was doing it craftily and carefully rather than doing it out of fury.
Luxus grunted, his face turning red. She was right.
"Do you want us to die, Ariadne?" he asked.
"For all I care, yes! And don't expect me to help you!"
Corsica stood up and shuffled into the fray. "Guys…"
"Get out of this."
Riletta could feel the cloud of conflict brewing over the steel cornucopia like a vortex of water. It was building up stronger and stronger. Like carbonation against a cork. Soon it would burst.
"Maybe if you were a better leader, Luxus, we wouldn't all be wanting to leave," she chimed in.
Corsica stopped herself before making a noticeable gasp, but her shock still showed on her face. She didn't like being lumped into that statement.
"Speak for yourself, Riletta."
"I speak however I like."
And all Hell broke loose.
Luxus jumped on Ariadne, tackling her to the ground and sending her knives spiraling across the floor. They hit one of the iron table legs and clattered to a stop. Riletta hoisted them into the air and dove headfirst into the scuffle, trying to make accurate aim amidst the chaos of flailing limbs as Corsica tried in vain to tear them apart.
"Fuck the lot of you!" Corsica cried out, finally resigning to her helplessness. She grabbed her pack, scooped up a change of clothes from the corner of the horn, and ran for her life.
As if by one consent, Riletta and Ariadne pounced in on Luxus, pummeling him into the ground roughly enough to grab their for-real weapons. Riletta lashed out with her whip, yanking off the lower part of Luxus' face while Ariadne sliced open his torso with her vicious knives. Gore flew, screams were let out, and Luxus was dead on the cold, hard ground in a matter of moments. There he was: the leader of the pack, the brash warrior who somehow thought the tributes under his rule wouldn't revolt.
He was wrong, of course. It is the ultimate form of pride to assume others cannot think for themselves.
"This is awkward," Ariadne muttered, stepping nervously away from the dead body.
Riletta shrugged. "Better for us. I only wish Corsica had stayed. I liked her."
"Nothing we can do about it now." She swooped down and grabbed one of the knives that had flown free during the initial beating. "Nothing."
It was almost terrifying to think that five minutes ago all four of them had been alive. Things change so quickly in the arena. So, so quickly.
Riletta almost felt a twinge of regret at the thought she'd have to kill Ariadne sooner than later if she wanted to finish the "character arc" she'd had going since the bloodbath. Almost. The Victor's Crown knows no loyalty. Living that statement every moment was the first step toward triumph.
It took Riletta longer than it should have to realize something obvious over the course of the next few days:
As long as she could catch her off guard, without a weapon or her wits, there was basically nothing stopping her from killing Ariadne whenever she wanted.
But things had to flow equally and naturally in the Hunger Games. Especially when one's reputation was in such careful balance as Riletta's was. One kill too many at the wrong time, and she'd risk souring herself in the eyes of the viewers.
Something that legitimately surprised her was how much she enjoyed spending time with Ariadne. She was very smart and very funny and there was something weirdly alluring about her muscle mass and her deep, masculine voice.
"My name comes from an old spider goddess, you know," she said one day. "Ariadne."
Riletta nodded, remembering the story. "Her pride led to her death."
"What does your name mean?" Ariadne asked.
"Riletta means river. Esteban means victor."
"River? And you're not from District 4?"
"Some of my ancestors were."
They laughed quite a lot. It was weird to laugh in a Hunger Games arena. The sound was out of place, almost alien.
By the time Day 8 arrived, things were progressing nicely in the arena once more. The boy from 8, Thread, had finally found his way out of the mass of connected cells. He was now exploring the arena, staying careful to lie low throughout the process. He was rewarded for his curiosity; he found a pack of small weapons near the outer edge of the leftmost hallway.
Chip from 3, meanwhile, wasn't faring his best. Dehydration was setting in; at points, he was forced to lick the condensation off the walls to keep hydrated. Cobalt sent him a small package of water every night, but he knew this could not continue for much longer. He would have to kill if he wanted to keep himself worthy in the eyes of those who could save him.
Ariadne and Riletta came to the agreement that they would immediately kill Corsica if they found her. She'd abandoned in a fit of rage and under intense stress. Even so, they had to be careful. Even a couple days of solitude might have entirely dissolved her loyalty to the careers. From that day forward, she would be dangerous to have around.
The sponsors liked it, anyway. But then a note came from Vintner, warning her that they'd better get the blood running once more if they wanted to stay alive. They were more than willing to heed this warning.
The ghosts came in swarms thicker than ever that night. They screamed so loudly, so painfully. Like the cries of a million people being murdered at once. What Riletta didn't realize was that some of the ghosts' faces were modeled after tributes that had been killed in past Hunger Games. So many who dreamed of victory but fell short somehow or other.
It was good they didn't notice. It would have only been discouraging.
Day 10 was when things really started popping.
"Eight left," Riletta announced. "They'll be interviewing our families now."
"Eight left!" Ariadne repeated, seemingly dumbfounded. "Me and you and Corsica. Chip from 3. Thread from 8. And the pair from 9. What are their names?"
"Miller and Esther."
"That's right." She counted on her fingers. "But that's only seven. Who else is left?"
Neither of them could remember. They figured it would come to them eventually.
Nobody died that day, but that didn't mean nothing exciting happened. While Riletta was hunting that day, she found Chip moving quietly through the halls, freshly shaken by a recent ghost encounter. She chased him for nearly a mile before he lost her, slipping down a dark hallway at just the right moment to squirm out of her field of vision. She searched for a few more minutes before groaning in frustration, stamping her foot into the ground.
Day 11, little happened other than a minor clash between Thread and the Miller-Esther pair. They had a little fight a few hundred meters from the horn, and Esther fought particularly violently, but their willpower wasn't in the fight and they essentially just gave up, going their opposite ways after giving the action-thirsty audience members their fill.
Riletta and Ariadne completely abandoned the cornucopia on Day 12. There was no use having an unmoving spot to report back to anymore, and besides, they'd already drained the horn of most of its supplies already. By the time they left for good, all that was left were some old bins and wire.
The inevitable rendezvous with Corsica occurred that same evening. They'd been hunting all day and finally rewarded themselves with a short period of rest in a large, circular chamber near the edge of the vaguely circle-shaped arena. They'd been eating quietly for less than five minutes when Ariadne suddenly hushed Riletta; she heard footsteps coming their way.
The girl from 4 saw them and drew her bow instantly, readying a volley of two arrows. At first, there was only fear and alertness in Corsica's features. Then they melted away into a kind of confusion. Maybe even a kind of hope.
"Is this the part where we kill each other?" she asked.
"It doesn't have to be," Ariadne replied. "Who's left?"
"The boys from 3 and 8. The pair from 9. And you know who else."
"No, we don't know."
"Garter. From 1."
It suddenly occurred to Riletta that she hadn't thought about him a single time since the games began. He must have been lying low thus far. Their mentors certainly hadn't warned them about him. He was most likely nothing to worry about.
Nothing to worry about. The others were nothing to worry about.
"Ari…"
She bent her head in the slightest nod.
They lunged so suddenly that Corsica was on the ground before she even had time to breathe. She had an incredibly strong grip, though, and her bow was still in hand. She pulled back an arrow and fired it straight in Riletta's direction. A bolt of pain hissed through her arm; it had punctured her hand. Blood poured from the wound, flowing like blood, a beautiful flower issuing from the place of the cut.
The pain was intense, unbearable. She was screaming, and yet there was a sort of new life that came from knowing she was bleeding. It was proof that she had to fight to survive. Proof that energy wasn't infinite and she had better make the best use of it now while she still had it.
Corsica went down in a long and painful fight over the course of over an hour. By the time it was done, all three of them were caked with blood, and they groaned painfully from the tiny cuts and scrapes all over their bodies. Ariadne finished her off, skewering her long blade into Corsica's chest with one final burst of ferocity. Her cannon sounded, and she fell like a rag doll, landing in a heap on the floor of the cavernous hallway.
Ariadne turned with a light smile on her face. "No use dallying. Let's get back to…"
But she never finished her sentence, because Riletta brought up her whip and slammed it into her body so suddenly she was knocked off of her feet. There was only a short cry from deep within Ariadne's throat, and she fell flat to the ground, moaning and thrashing like the vain weaver woman turning into an eight-legged monster.
She kept screaming and screaming and Riletta kept whipping and whipping. The louder she screamed the harder she whipped. Ariadne only managed a single glance in the direction of the girl she'd thought to be her friend before her life left her.
Through two weeks of frustratingly careful treachery, Riletta Esteban was now the only career left in the games.
The next five days progressed in a way that was so structured it was almost eerie. One cannon shot fired each morning, at almost exactly the same time.
On Day 13, Esther finally turned on Miller, her ally. He'd made the same mistake Ariadne made; expecting his ally to remain loyal to him even when such a thing was no longer practical. The remaining six tributes moved toward the cornucopia like blood cells moving toward a common objective point. The finale, while not imminent, was certainly on its way, and they were all feverishly preparing.
Garter, while he hadn't killed anybody so far, had managed to charm the audience over with cheesy jokes and even some smart moves when he mapped out the pattern with which the cell doors opened and closed, altering the shape of enclosed area in a regular pattern. Chip was more intensely armed than ever; he'd either received or found several knives over the course of the last few days and was practicing more intensely all the time. Esther knew she was the weakest tribute left and made a concentrated effort on searching for supplies in the arena itself rather than waiting for sponsors to rescue her. These efforts did pay off somewhat; she found some water and scant blades here and there, but nothing major. If she was cornered, she would be effectively helpless. Thread was in a similar situation and proceeded similarly. After so many days of being helplessly trapped, it was immensely freeing to travel freely. He explored much of the arena throughout the day, only steering clear of the area where the prison cells were situated.
As for Riletta, she returned to the cornucopia and spent the day sharpening her arrows, waiting for victims to arrive.
The early morning of Day 14 promptly saw one more death. Chip had been hunting all through the night, trying his best to ignore the ghosts as they swarmed around him terrifyingly. He was just about to settle down when he saw Garter moving quietly about twenty meters ahead. Chip approached him slowly and then broke into a run. He would have been able to attack Garter in perfect ambush style if not for the ghost who knocked him off his feet, submerging him in a tide of frigid air so sudden and so powerful he lost the strength to stand.
Garter turned around suddenly and stomped Chip in the head, proceeding to snatch up a few of his knives and kill him over the course of two or three minutes.
Riletta made the Day 15 kill. Having finally left the cornucopia, she followed the footsteps on the ground to the place where Esther was resting. Unlike the other tributes, who she killed suddenly and efficiently, Riletta was ready to take her sweet time with the wily girl from District 9. The screams of the girl and the crashing of the whip reverberated around the entire arena so loudly and so horribly that Garter thought she was one of the ghosts and ran in the opposite direction.
With three tributes left in the arena, the gamemakers unleashed the ghosts in their true full capacity. There were thousands of them, emerging at the ends of the long hallways and moving slowly inward, consuming the entire arena in their cohort of screaming, misty wraiths.
Chip and Garter clashed around noon. They'd been intentionally driven to the same point by the gamemakers; the audience was curious to see what they were capable of in terms of combat before one of them faced off against Riletta. There was no clear winner, but after half an hour of fighting Garter stood victorious. This would be the first time in many years that both of the final tributes would be from the same district.
Garter's confidence was rejuvenated after the aforementioned kill, but the prospect of facing Riletta was still terrifying. And when they did meet, clashing at the cornucopia the next day, it was quickly apparent to all that this was the last thing from a fair fight. They weren't even on the same level. Riletta could have killed him in ten seconds if she wanted. She was just playing with him. Drawing things out for the cameras. Maybe even for her own pleasure.
"I'm glad I never went to the Academy," he muttered. "Glad I never turned into one of you."
"What are you talking about?" She found herself quoting Luxus.
He screamed in pain as her whip tore open his shoulder. "I'm surprised you even bleed," he said.
"Everyone does."
Being talkative just made this more entertaining.
"The mutts don't. Their blood is black. But yours isn't. Nobody is born evil."
"Evil has no place here. Only strategy."
He let out one final laugh. "Oh, yes it does. It's the fabric of the entire system."
And the untrained boy from District 1 fell still for the final time.
Riletta was rushed to the Capitol and then back to District 1 with all the standard fanfare and celebration a career victor was to be given.
Capitol citizens had already trained themselves to understand the sort of dainty yet rough way in which she spoke. Some would go on to credit it as the reason her tribute interview had stood out so much: despite the revolting things she talked about, it was an undeniable fact that she had a knack for reeling in an audience with words.
In due time, President Snow would force her to use her soft words a different way. She didn't like it but it was simply a fact of life as a victor.
"What made you keep going, in your darkest moments?" Caesar Flickerman asked. "When the fight broke out between you and Corsica and Luxus. What kept you holding on?"
"Just the idea of going back to District 1. It's my home. I could never leave it."
It was a canned response and the audience loved it. Riletta Esteban was a textbook example of a perfect career victor. President Snow smiled from his office, knowing he had one more fantastic tool with which to placate the more poor, rebellious districts. Citrine, Peridot, and Vintner shared a glass of whiskey in the rec room of the Justice Building, eager to welcome to newest victor to their circle.
When Riletta stepped off of the train, breathing the air of District 1 for the first time since the reaping, all she could think about was her mother and how wonderful it would be to see her again.
"You've grown so much," was the first thing her mother said.
"I definitely feel like it." She felt her eyes lift a little. "We can move into the Village as soon as you'd like, Mom."
"I'm so proud of you," she murmured affectionately. "When I saw you on screen, with that girl from 2… it felt like you were truly being yourself. It was wonderful."
She didn't really know what to say.
"I just want you to be happy, Riletta. That's all I want. And I'm sorry I can't give you the perfect welcome back party you've always wanted."
"I am happy." She fidgeted with her new, dark-red dress. "And this is just what I wanted. Don't worry."
She thought about the hot, open vent under her bed.
"You look so beautiful," her mother cooed. "Don't go around breaking boys' hearts, okay?"
"Don't worry, Mom. You know I would never hurt a fly."
List of Victors
District 1 (5 Victors): Luxor Dodge (1st), Citrine Whitacre (9th), Peridot Partridge (18th), Vintner Aphelion (23rd), Riletta Esteban (30th)
District 2 (5 Victors): Tyrell Crowley (3rd), Lancaster Percy (6th), Ajax Mathers (15th), Maximus Decimus (21st), Ether Driscoll (28th)
District 3 (2 Victors): Lumen Orlaith (12th), Cobalt Thindrel (19th)
District 4 (3 Victors): Mags Flanagan (11th), Ripple Hart (16th), Makani Lee (26th)
District 5 (2 Victors): Electra Wilty (4th), Fumer Griffin (25th)
District 6 (2 Victors): Jaguar Stratton (7th), Annley Benz (27th)
District 7 (3 Victors): Rowan Dobson (2nd), Willow Merrick (13th), Ebony Merrick (14th)
District 8 (3 Victors): Georgio Bronte (8th), Burton Flax (22nd), Stitch Elrod (29th)
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)