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Idle Engines

Chapter 14

Playing the Games

A week has passed since Cyrus' suicide. The Peacekeepers came to quietly collect his body and clean the blood and brains from the walls. I hadn't moved since the gunshot sounded. I'm in bed now but only because Alan carried me here. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. All I could do was replay that moment over and over. Finally, after 4 days I passed out of exhaustion. The dreams that plagued me were terrible. My mind would replace Pestilence with Nym as I cleaved her in half. I watched myself stab Tova over and over instead of Drizzle. The moment I strangled June blurred as every face I ever cared for even a little replaced hers. Even when it was her face still there, I couldn't feel good about it. She'd been right. We were friends, and I'd dragged out her death making sure she would suffer.

I wake up with a final image of me holding a gun to Cyrus' head and pulling the trigger myself. My eyes shoot open but I'm too numb to scream. I sit up for the first time in days, my muscles aching and my stomach grumbling.

"Ah, finally awake Mr. Prevor?" a smooth voice asks from somewhere else in the room. In a chair by the fireplace is an unmistakable figure. His face is covered by a newspaper but the shock white hair of President Snow peeks out over the top of it. He folds the newspaper into his lap, showing his equally white beard.

"I was afraid our little soldier might be broken," he continues with a pleasant smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"No sir, just sleeping." I reply evenly. I'll play his games for now, even though I know there's nothing left for him to use against me.

"I see," he says calmly before pulling the newspaper back up in front of his face, taking care to let me see the picture of a crying girl on the front page.

"It would be a shame to lose such an icon before the Victory Tour. I know a few people who are… dying… to meet you."

It's a clear threat but I have no one left that he can hurt. I'm getting tired of playing so I tell him so.

"There's no one that I'd like to meet, thank you." I cross my arms over my chest in defiance.

"Not even, say, Johanna Mason?" he taps the picture of the girl, and my stomach turns to ice. Johanna. I have no way of knowing if this is Tova's Johanna, but I know if it is then I can't possibly face her.

"No, not even Johanna Mason," I say, trying not to sound defeated.

"Pity. I guess I'll have to kill her then," he says this so matter-of-factly it's sickening. He knows he has me there. Whether it is Tova's Johanna or not, I can't be responsible for the death of another crying teenager.

"What do you want from me?" I ask him bitterly. He folds the newspaper back into his lap again.

"I want you to be the little soldier you were meant to be. I want you to parade around in a uniform and hum the Capitol anthem like it's your favorite tune on the radio. And when I think you're ready, I want you to command a squad of special Peacekeepers to dispatch my bitterest enemies. Do you understand me Mr. Prevor? I want you to be my soldier." His stare is so intense that I find it hard to keep eye contact. He wants me to kill for him. I suspected it already but to hear him say so out loud is unnerving. He's a politician after all, and politicians use subtlety, not overt threats. Perhaps he thinks I'm too much of a child to play his games. Well, I'm not.

"Fine. I'll be your soldier. But I have one condition." His eyes narrow at me, and I narrow mine right back.

"What condition would that be?"

"I want to kill Doctor Tirseka."

His eyebrows raise slightly but otherwise he doesn't react.

"I'm afraid that isn't possible. I know about the failsafes. You can't lift a finger against him."

"Then you'll kill him for me," I state simply. Make them pay. Cyrus' voice tells me. I'm not budging on this condition. I will be his soldier, but he will give me my revenge.

"Why would I do that?" he prompts, as if he'd actually consider it were I to give a good reason for it. I have the best reason possible.

"Because he put in no such failsafes to protect you from me. Only himself." It's a bluff. I don't know if that's the case, but I know I can fight my body's instincts if those failsafes exist. I can tell the bluff works when Snow's eyes flash dangerously.

"I see." He stands from his chair and casually walks to my bedroom door. Before he leaves, he turns back to me once more. "I look forward to your Victory Tour in a few months."

Once he's gone, for the first time in a week I shower and eat, and then I move on to the second part of my plan. I may have told Snow I was going to play the good soldier - and I will, if only to keep Johanna safe - but that doesn't mean he's going to escape my revenge. I stretch my legs as I rise from the kitchen table, pull on some shoes, and leave the house. I walk across the way and down two houses, to knock on Alan Moor's door. He answers right away. Most likely he was watching the door already for intruders.

"Up and about again I see," he says in lieu of a greeting. I nod.

"Do you know somewhere we can talk?" I ask pointedly, leaving the "without being heard" part implied. His paranoia will fill it in anyway. He motions for me to enter and leads me down into his basement. He has a table and two chairs set up as if he was expecting me to come down here. We sit opposite each other, and he offers me his flask. I decline, wanting a clear head for this conversation.

"What can I do for you then, boy?" he asks gruffly. I take a deep breath in preparation. Then, looking straight into his one eye I tell him.

"I want to start a rebellion."

To Be Continued?

Thanks for reading. I still don't know if I will continue this story, but after removing the Harry Potter elements it is more likely.