They start by showing the reapings and I'm reminded of all the faces I forgot, the children who died at the bloodbath or away from our pack whose names I didn't remember or even learn. The small, the weak, the uninteresting. I get a sharp view of Anita's face when they show my reaping, looking fierce and joyful. I also get a glimpse of Oris as I take his place on the stage. The brother of my heart. Suddenly I can't wait to be home with them again.
The rest of the pre-Games flash by in a brief montage of the chariot rides and short clips from the interviews before we enter the arena from Tarris Smith's point of view. The camera rises to give a full view of the two fingers of land extending from the northern swamp into the wonderful blue sea before sweeping back down and around the circle of waiting faces. They give us the full bloodbath, showing each kill in detail. I look a lot more confident than I felt as I put my spear into big Solphis Gunner's throat once again.
Marcellus and Carla each taking down their two, Angelus with his arrogant smirk as he cuts through the leg of the scrawny boy from Twelve. My district partner spearing helpless Maria in the back, big Rosie Plane knocking away the girl from Nine as they fight over a backpack. The girl, whose name is helpfully supplied as Jancis Young risks a second dive forwards after Rosie's retreating back and the girl from Eleven isn't so merciful the second time as her fist crushes Jancis' throat. Rosie turns and flees south, while Markus who was nearby, that long knife already held in a practiced grip takes a few steps after her, shakes his head and wheels east instead.
I also get to see what actually happened to Citrine, who like me stopped to pick up a knife about halfway between her start plate and the Cornucopia. She sees Ida from Ten off to her side and sprints at her, knife flashing down to take out her foe. Except Ida sees her coming and twists away, grabbing her hand and wrestling with my old ally for control of the blade. Citrine does pull free, shoving the smaller girl to the ground but is forced to turn and face her district partner Tarris, who charges in with a wooden club much like the one Solphis attacked me with.
She manages to disarm him, but he keeps her busy long enough for Ida to grab the club and belt her in the head a few times. Citrine loses her grip on the knife and Tarris snatches it, striking as the girl from One throws a blind kick to disengage. The point slices all down her thigh and they move in for the kill until they see Markus running in their direction and back away.
From there the story wends its way through our long days of hunting, cutting out most of the trekking and boring standing guard and focusing on the kills and our occasional interesting conversation. I can see now the dark looks Angelus shoots at my turned back, the way his hand clenches on his sword hilt after I say or do something either to annoy him or when I play to the sponsors.
They show a close cut of my face as I throw my spear into the leg of little, scared Wheela from Six and I shiver at the look on my own face. Hungry and excited. I remember someone had said something about me being the baby of the group and that I'd wanted to prove to the others I was good enough to keep up. I can't imagine how much worse it will be once I slipped into my shark mind.
Now I get to see what happened to the other tributes during our days of jogging through the forests and slodging through the swamp edge. Like we thought, Demmy from Twelve had a run-in with the gator mutt and fell into the stream bleeding heavily from the ragged ruins of her right arm. She drowns in three feet of water after passing out from the pain.
The boy from Three, Joulian was hiding out close to our camp for those early days, probably hoping that our alliance would leave the cornucopia unguarded. He manages to steal away an apple and a water bottle when Citrine ducks into the bushes for a few minutes, but is forced to hide and starve as our guard gave him no other chance. He watches on, eyes shadowed with fury as Marcellus destroys all the supplies we weren't planning on taking and as soon as our pack leaves for the north, scurries out of cover to salvage what he can.
To my surprise he immediately eats the two stinking fish that I'd tossed from my satchel, which either were poisonous or had just gone off from the heat. Either way he spends most of the next day being violently ill, according to the voice-over, which only gets worse once he drinks untreated water from the edge of the lake.
They cut out most of our journey around the swamp, though I notice that they spend a couple of minutes showing me with my shirt off while I clean out my wounds and joke with my allies. It gets a round of cheers and whistles from the live audience and I give them a small smile and wave after Caesar shoots me a pointed look.
We also get the full gator mutt fight, including good vision of Angelus staying as far back as he can. They play a swell of heroic music when Marcellus, Carla and I dive in to save Anita, accompanied by another loud cheer from the crowd. This time I'm happy to smile and wave. Of all the things that happened in the arena, this is one I can be proud of.
Then they cut back to the boy from Three, who is huddled in a moaning ball, covered in bug bites and mess from his own body. He dies miserable and alone. No-one seems to care.
There's also the boy from Five, who gets snared by a woven grass and vine net that Markus hung in the trees by a stream, along with the help of his district partner. The pair from Eight must have agreed not to kill each-other if they met in the arena, and spend a day and a half working together until they catch another tribute. Jannifer wants to let the boy join them but Markus doesn't trust anyone and kills him. She watches him warily after that and appears to meekly obey all his orders but runs away as soon as he falls asleep to hide in that long band of forest where I eventually found her.
As expected, they play out the fight between our alliance and the pair from Ten in full, starting with Ida spotting us jogging across the grassy plain and dragging her ally into the only nearby cover. They argue quietly over whether or not they will try to surprise us, and eventually Ida wins and Tarris readies his sling. A few clips earlier had shown him to be a skilful slinger, bringing down birds and forest critters to eat with his well tossed rocks. Ida isn't nearly as good, which is why the stones aimed for Anita and Carla go wide when they launch their attack.
Had she been more accurate we would have been in serious trouble I realize as the live audience cheers along with the fight my body remembers all too well. Marcellus and Citrine both hit in the head, groggy and concussed makes it two-to-one. Tarris also slung the stone that broke my fingers, though he was probably aiming for my head while I was bent over my ally from One.
If even one of Ida's rocks had hit they would have nearly been fighting even. I focus on the fight again as the crowd boos loudly, Angelus hovering on the edge of the bushes as though he's scared to join the fight. I wonder suddenly if that's why he was so aggressive in his manner. He knew he didn't want to be in a real fight, though I can't think why he would choose to volunteer if that was true.
I'm still not sure how exactly Tarris disarms Carla. One moment they are both wrestling over the same blade and suddenly it's wedged to the hilt in her thigh. He shoves her backwards into Marcellus, who had been groggily trying to get to his hands and knees and dives at my unguarded back. Anita's cry and grab at our enemy's ankle prevents Tarris' knife from sinking into my back and I remember the strange sharp pain around my throat as I see his grasping fingers catch in my token necklace. I raise my fingers to my throat as I watch the little pieces fly free on the screen, clasping down on the sword and trident pendant until the blunt points start to sting. There's a muted cheer from the audience for both Citrine and Ida's deaths, and when the time comes I force another smile as my spear point rips open Tarris Smith's throat.
One of the smaller side-screens, which has mostly been showing my reactions and shots of the crowd cuts in close to where the mentors are seated, where a sharp-faced woman swallows heavily, her pale face tight. Tarris' aunt, I realize. I feel my smile starting to falter as the me on screen collapses under the weight of the dead boy to resounding applause.
Their clapping slows in time with the beat of the new music track that starts playing and the action immediately cuts to the next morning, our breakfast fight that starts with Marcellus losing his temper and ends with Angelus losing his life. The pair from two help patch each other up—Marcellus with rough bandages on his face and arm and his freshly broken nose re-centred, Carla with her possibly broken collarbone, as well as the knife wound in her leg that Angelus re-opened with a vicious kick before he turned on me. Their alliance only lasts until sunset though, when Marcellus orders her to start packing and move out and she refuses to leave. They agree to split, with her staying still until her wounds are more healed, while he storms away (in the opposite direction to what I went, I notice suddenly; he must have respected me as a threat after all).
Then they show me receiving the trident. A close up on my face shows the burning excitement in my eyes as I hold it for the first time, as I drive it into a boulder, feeling the strength and the perfect balance. Unlike the forced shark smile I'm wearing now I see my real eager grin, admiration for the perfect beauty of the weapon I am holding. I don't remember raising it to the sky back then, but I must have done so unconsciously as a thank-you to Mags and to the sponsors who made it possible. As I do there is a screaming blare of trumpets followed by a fast-paced music track like they use in the action films while the hero is training.
Sure enough the following minutes are a montage of me practicing jabs and tying my net. In between we get brief flashes of Anita doubling back to try and take out Carla and reclaim the larger part of the supplies, of Markus fighting off a swarm of bats with his staff with strong and practiced sweeps. We see Marcellus trying to fish while waist deep in the lapping ocean waters once he realizes the sponsors aren't pulling through until a stinger lashes his leg and he crawls from the lapping water swearing, tears streaming involuntarily down his face. Back to me bathing in the salt water, pouring it over my head as though it is strengthening me. Rosie, who spent the entire Games hiding out in the southern-most part of our original finger of land, who we never quite reached because of the piranha attack, and who stubbornly fights off all the mutts the Gamemakers send at her to try and make her move. Back to me tying the little rocks onto the end of each strand and twirling the finished casting net high with a gleeful shout. Of terrified Jannifer from Eight stumbling through the forest, feet catching on tree roots, bare skin snagging on sharp brambles, swooping birds catching at her hair until she falls in a heap beside a large log and cries herself to sleep.
Finally the music dies as I start my walk into the forest and slaying the owl that had the bad fortune to fly across my path. Before I can prepare myself Finnick-on-screen has Jannifer caught in his net and speared dead, her last word an echoing whisper, "Please."
I do get a brief chance to compose myself as we get to see Anita and Carla having their third round over the supply packs. Neither is quite strong enough or lucky enough to kill the other, what with Carla's heavy wounds, and as soon as my old district partner starts losing the fight she retreats to the stream, where the girl from Two is hesitant to follow. This time I'm there to shift the balance with my quick and vicious attack. With one arm essentially helpless and her other well pinned, Carla never stood a chance. The fight with Marcellus is the same, though they don't even have the courtesy to show him fighting off the flock of gulls immediately before. He just appears with the dozen extra peck and claw marks around his deeply scored face and arm, and his heavily welted leg. Standing beside him cleaning his blood off my arms and chest I look nearly healthy.
I understand now that the lightning storm was a last ditch attempt by the Gamemakers to chase Rosie from her hiding place as each bolt strikes trees only feet away from her, leaving her reeling and terrified as she runs blindly from her little patch of safety. I remember back when I first spoke to her in training, she was struggling to stay on the narrow balance beams. Sure enough it's what gets her killed. She stumbles five feet from the cliff edge and her momentum carries her over the edge to the rocks below. In a way I'm glad, since it meant I didn't have to kill her too, and she died quick and relatively painlessly.
They hold the image of me on that cliff-top, net slung over my shoulder while I watch her fall for a few seconds more before turning to clips of the others leading into the penultimate fight. Markus gets the jump on Anita, who is re-tying her broken sandal-strap near a stream edge. His first strike with his staff probably breaks a few of her ribs and sends her toppling sideways with a scream. She kicks him hard in the knee and gets her arm up in the way of his next swing at her head. She instinctively grabs the staff and tries to pull it away, or at least drag him down onto the ground with her, but he lets go and pulls his knife instead.
Again she blocks his strike with her arm, shrieking in pain as the sharp blade slices through her left hand, leaving two of her fingers dangling loose. Somehow she gets her own smaller knife in her other hand and stabs back blindly, the hilt smacking him in the face while the point gouges his arm. He grabs her good wrist and slams it back to the ground as he climbs on top of her, pinning her smaller frame with his body. She tries one last desperate heave towards the stream as his knife slips between her ribs and into her heart but it's too late.
He stabs her again, then cuts her throat to be sure, and sits back as he examines the long, shallow wound down his bicep. With a sharp, angry motion he leans back over her dying body and snarls in her face, "You want to go swimming fish girl?" One quick shove and her body rolls over, down the muddy bank and into the water, where the piranha mutts are waiting. The cannon follows shortly after and he watches the hovercraft collect her chewed-up corpse with dead eyes while he ties her knife to his leg as an extra weapon.
Suddenly I'm a bit less sorry that I killed him. She didn't deserve that disrespect and if he hadn't caught her off guard the fight might have gone very differently. Though I would have been forced to face her in my final duel, and I don't think either of us would have wanted that.
Finally they show my long, angry walk to the clearing Markus has chosen, and the fight my body will probably remember forever. It almost does look like something from a cliché action film except for the lack of witty talking. It doesn't really show those few terrifying moments after he threw my net back at me, when I thought I was going to lose the fight. My movements all look mechanical and precise. Like I'd done them a hundred times before. His strikes have an edge of practice to them, but it's just not the same and I can see the fear in his face as I disarm him and sink my trident prongs into his gut.
The crowd goes silent as shark-Finnick on screen slowly stands and poses for a moment before bringing the final blow down. I can see the disappointment in my eyes as I look to the sky where the trumpets sounded and the roar of the crowd at the moment of my victory is doubled by the live audience now, who rise to their feet as the cheering goes on and on and on. There was no glory, there was no honor, there wasn't even that fleeting thrill of winning a fight like at training back home.
I stand and smile because I have to as President Snow himself takes to the stage to present me with my victor's crown. I'm tall enough that the President waits for me to kneel before taking the crown from the young boy beside him and settling it firmly on my hair. I stand slowly to make sure it doesn't slip off and shake his offered hand before returning to my duties of waving and bowing to the crowd.
~xXx~
At the Victory Banquet I get the first real understanding of what Mags and Acanthus were hinting about. As we enter the ballroom of the President's mansion I see the tables heaped with delicious food and remember how hungry I am. Two hours later I'm only half-way across the floor to them and with the pressing crowd it appears unlikely that I'll ever get a chance to eat. The names and faces float past so quickly I can't begin to focus on the couple who gush with delight as they hug me and have their friend snap photos before they are replaced by an older man who won't let go of my hand after shaking it who in turn is pushed aside by the cluster of teenage girls for their tenth round of claiming me.
Twice Mags tries to help steer me through a slight lull in the crowd and I move a few steps closer to the tantalizing smell of sweet pastries before she is pushed aside by some model or actor or government minister, all who want to talk to me, to shake my hand, to feel my muscles, to see if my hair is really as soft as it looks.
The crowd parts slightly again and I make another three steps forward before the gap closes and a trio of older women caked with make-up demand their turn of pinching my cheeks and telling me how gorgeous I am. Gabriela manages to distract the horde of teenagers from their eleventh assault though, and once I'm done thanking a young man who apparently sponsored me for a substantial sum I turn to the next body in line and find a napkin filled with three pastries and a large glass of sweet juice. Acanthus smiles wryly as he uses his stocky frame to block access to me for a few seconds while I inhale the food.
"I could see you drooling," he says primly as he takes the empty paper and glass back.
"Best escort ever," I tell him with a grin of my own before turning once again to face the next of the horde. A mother dripping in jewels and her three young daughters, all wanting hugs and photos. Over their heads I can see Mags backed into a corner by the cheek-pinching grannys, though she seems to be laughing with them.
I don't know how long the party goes on, but I'm pretty much asleep on my feet when Acanthus rescues me from four of the teenagers and leads me out to a waiting car.
"Where's Mags?" I ask as he closes the door and signals to the driver to leave.
"Oh she left, hmmm, nearly three hours ago. She's not young any more you know."
I blink in surprise. Of course I know she's not young, but after her aggressive protectiveness over the last few days I'm amazed she let me out of her sight.
Acanthus smiles at the look on my face and adds, "I had to swear on my family honour that I would bring you home safe and unmolested before dawn before she would go. That was after I had to wake her. Twice."
"She really does like you," I tell him drowsily as our short journey ends outside the Training Center.
He gives me a friendly nudge in return and helps support me to the lift and out into my bedroom on the fourth floor. I briefly think about taking a shower, but once I lie down on the wonderfully soft bed I fall quickly into darkness.
~xXx~
The final interview with Caesar Flickerman is filmed in the living room of our apartment. I ignore Phineas' muttering as he fiddles with my hair and shirt collar and watch the fluttering film crew as they set up. My shirt is green again, this time a shiny material with hundreds of tiny beads sewn on in fancy patterns that sparkle in the light. Bronze buttons set with some blue-green stone, mostly undone of course gleam just as brightly and draw attention away from the ragged necklace that my stylist has finally stopped trying to make me remove.
After three "near accidents" of him almost cutting the string and making it unwearable I finally told him he could either let me wear it or he could fight me for the privilege of taking it away. Apparently he decided it wasn't worth getting anything broken and went back to derisive sniffs and attempting to tuck most of it out of sight under a large folded down collar.
As soon as the cameras are ready and Mags and Caesar are finished with their friendly chat in the corner I'm directed to the pair of stiff armchairs. Caesar shakes my hand warmly and looks me in the eye as he asks, "How are you feeling Finnick?"
"Fine, really," I tell him with a smile that comes easily.
He looks into my face a few seconds more and nods firmly before drawing back to his own seat.
"Good, good. Now I've been over the preliminaries with Mags—don't worry I won't be asking anything too difficult-but remember if you get stuck just take a deep breath and let me help you. I'm sure it will be all fine though, all over before you know it."
He gives me that wide, famous toothy grin and I return it with my own.
"Good," He says again, though he frowns slightly at my tightly tucked, open-necked shirt. "We have a minute or so if you have any last minute things to take care of," he adds with a sly wink.
I check over my shoulder and don't see Phineas in the room. Perfect. It only takes me a few seconds to pull the shiny shirt loose, and to do up two more buttons so that only the top of my collarbone is visible. As a last thought I fold up the collar on one side to better show off my district token and run my hand through my hair to give it that properly messed look.
Caesar nods and gives me a countdown until we are live. Once we start talking it gets easier to go on and he starts with good, simple questions that I can answer without thinking: "What did you feel about your original alliance? What was each member's biggest strength? Biggest weakness? Who did you like best?"
As long as I focus on the earlier part of the Games it's easy to praise Marcellus for his leadership, Carla for her strength and focus, Citrine for her quiet durability. Anita of course for remaining in her role as a surrogate big sister. Even Angelus for giving me a rival for looks and someone I could have some fun with (even if it was at his expense). We laugh at Carla's misfortunes with the rivers and streams, at Citrine's run of bad luck in general right from the torn dress on interview night, at how ridiculous our alliance looked when we lost a battle with a school of fish.
He doesn't ask for in depth feelings about my first few kills, and segues after talking about our fight with Ten into some of the injuries I suffered. After a verbal nudge I thank the doctors of the Capitol for their hard work in removing my scars and making my hand like new, and catch Mags' smile as I pointedly don't mention the stupid muscle enhancers.
I realize he is leaving my hunt for the end as he starts asking about the various girls in the arena, which did I think was the prettiest, the feistiest, the strongest. I tell him that Anita, of course was the strongest, though I had a lot of respect for Carla and Citrine and Rosie too. None of the girls really stood out for beauty this year, the best being maybe Maria from Five. I can't say Anita of course, since she was like my sister and that would be weird. That gets a laugh from Caesar.
What was my favourite sponsor gift? (The trident of course, though the medicine and fish rolls both came close second). My favourite moment besides my final victory? (The fight with the gator mutt, when we all fought together against it). My favourite part of the arena (The beach where I made my net. Where else?)
Finally he gets down to the business end of the Games and I let shark-Finnick rise from the cold depths to talk about killing my former allies and friends. I don't have to pretend to hide my feelings about tracking down Markus after he killed Anita, though I do lie about the feeling of victory as I struck my final blow.
Suddenly Caesar is shaking my hand again and the camera people are talking because it's all over and I get to go home. Home. Back to Oris and Greta and Ric. Back to the clean, crisp air and glorious sunrises from the rooftop. Back to the water, where I can dive beneath the rolling waves and wash myself clean of all the guilt, all the pain, all the horror. After all, the storm doesn't last forever and once it's gone I can start to live again.