Author's Note: Lots of victors to cover here as we continue to set the groundwork for the Quell. Let me know your thoughts!
….
Resignation
Hal was angry. For the rebel victors, his anger had always been directed in the wrong place. First his parents for the poverty that saw him take tesserae, his fellow victors for keeping him alive, then his district for their reaction on his return, and finally anyone else who got in his way.
Now, he was enraged. He was to pay for the wrongdoing of others once more, this time the troublesome victors in District Twelve who he had done his best to avoid. This time, his anger has caused destruction in his house. Both Luna and Porter had forbidden him from entering their homes after he started his destruction at Porter's the night the card was read.
He had taken knives from the kitchen and threw them at his walls, punched through doors and broken ornaments and pictures that were provided to the victors with their homes. He was never going to avoid being reaped so he may as well get used to weaponry once more.
Luna and Porter were forcing him to continue attending work, to carry on with the appearance of docile, non-rebellious victors, doing their best for District Five. But he was more than willing to give up. He was not going to spend his final days at work on wind power projects regardless of the potential good for the district. He was going to die.
Hal was under no illusions of what waited for him in the arena. He had not made himself popular with the other victors. Only Luna or Porter and whichever victors were reaped from Nine would be less willing to target him. His anger annoyed almost everyone else. He was close in age to Brutus, but the man from District Two had continued with his physical regime and would destroy him in seconds. He did not get on with Finnick and he believed the man from Four would choose to target him if the opportunity arose. The only chance he could possibly have at surviving would be to target the Twelves, then just maybe he might gain political and Gamemaker support.
For the group of rebels in Five and the rebel victors beyond his home, Hal was a failed opportunity. Outbursts which rivalled those of Johanna Mason, a deep sense of injustice and a lot of fire, all material they could have harnessed. But Hal's anger had always been misplaced. He never thought of the bigger picture and his temper remained self-centred. It was a matter of trust too, and Hal was a talker when inebriated, something which happened all too regularly.
Luna and Porter were at a loss. They did not want to berate Hal when he was guaranteed to return to the Games when they each had a chance. It was their worst-ever odds, but it was a chance all the same. One of them was going to return home, but they would be returning alone, and their life would be a shell of what they had.
They continued working, channelling their energies into something they saw as positive for the district. Keeping the lights on and the peacekeepers at bay. Their focus on District Five did not lead them to rebellion. The skills and projects developed in their district secured their position and kept Five afloat. They were not going to challenge that.
So, Luna and Porter did as they were told and reluctantly accepted their fate. Their friendship continued and beyond work they would go on long walks together, attempting to run longer distances when they were outside of the district's centre in an attempt to boost their fitness. But they were both in their fifties and had left their arenas with severe injuries which flared up with over-exertion. It was embarrassing, but one of them was to return to the arena, so they wanted to perform as well as they could.
They had begun to use what they could find to begin some weapons training in the privacy of their gardens. Training was still technically prohibited, even for the victors, but Luna and Porter were not naïve. Every victor was going to be doing what they could, and they were no different. They hoped to convince Hal to join them at some point and channel his anger into something constructive.
It was a matter of months before their time was up and they were determined to make of it what they could, despite the circumstances. Porter was planning a phased retreat from work for the three of them so they could enjoy some time to themselves before the journey to the Capitol. It was all they could do to prepare. They would face whatever decision was made at the reaping.
….
After over twenty years of living alongside each other, Barric and Maizey found each other. But it was too late. They had finally seen what everyone else around them already knew, but in a few short months, they would return to the arena.
It was obvious it would be them. Mona was old and Barley a middle-aged, recovering alcoholic who appeared to be entering into a relapse. Both of those categories were already covered by more interesting victors in other districts. Barric and Maizey went to the Capitol each year, and were younger and more widely known. They would make better television. Just as if they were children, their lives were to be thrown asunder once more, only this time it would be at the hands of their associates.
They trained almost every day in the garden of Barric's home doing what they could with whatever they could get their hands on. Both had favoured a scythe, the frequent weapon of choice for the District Nine tributes. But they were trying their hand at knife throwing and adapting to using clubs which they had picked up from some careless peacekeepers.
But it would not be enough, and they both knew it. They were trying to resign themselves to their likely fates whilst trying to embrace each other in this new phase of their relationship. Every moment of happiness was tainted and tinged with sadness as they spent all day every day in each other's company, realising what could have been.
They had always had a close understanding and became each other's best source of support. Barley was often drunk when Barric won or wrapped up in his wife when he was not, and Mona prioritised her own family. But marriage to an outsider was not a possibility for the victors who won in the shadow of Snow, so they relied upon each other and did not want to jeopardise their friendship.
Only now it was too late. They would take the time they had and make the most of it, but it would end in the arena. They were realistic. They were not popular victors in an ordinary year. They had the usual District Nine sponsors who could be relied upon and may well contribute a little extra given it would be their usual victors who would need to be saved this time. But they had seen the extraordinary attention District Twelve's tributes had the previous year and that would only be carried forwards. The careers would be as popular as ever and nobody, not even the pair from Twelve, would be able to rival the attention Finnick Odair would garner.
Barric and Maizey had lived quiet, uneventful lives as victors, and thus, nobody beyond their group really cared. They had been compliant with the rules and expectations put upon the victors, kept their heads down and lived as ordinarily as they could. Now, there was no way out.
The same resignation could be felt at Mona's home too. She was not going to be able to save her victor and spending too much time with Maizey was painful. She would do what she could, but it would never be enough. The arena and the Capitol had harmed Mona. They brought with them Loriana, the other side of Mona's personality who she had been able to put away for years now. But now Mona could feel her coming back, the angrier, harsh side of the woman who was normally unfailingly kind, and now a devoted grandmother.
It was not fair. They had lived quietly and not asked for much at all. In return, they kept their calm, uneventful lives, and nothing good was going to come of it. Mentoring would have to become a regular event in her old age, she could hardly leave Barley to the task alone. The future of District Nine's tributes was hanging in the balance if they could not get another victor soon. This was not how it was supposed to go but Mona did not know who to be angry at. The Capitol of course, for upholding this nightmare. Snow beyond doubt. But what of the other victors? Those involved in rebel plots that would upend everything. Had their efforts been uncovered and reflected upon them all?
But Mona could not look at Woof and feel anger. Loriana could perhaps, but it would not be Woof in the adjacent mentor's chair. He would find himself back in the arena, a far worse fate than her own and from Barric and Maizey's accounts, the man wouldn't have a clue who she was anyway.
Haymitch Abernathy, both Mona and Loriana could be angry at. But he was surrounded by the support of many of the other victors and she would come away from the encounter the villain. There would be no point. Try to put any blame on Mags or Seeder and she may not leave the Capitol alive.
Demonstrating her anger would be fruitless. It would not help Barric or Maizey and would make Barley's position worse. She would be quietly angry, but it would not change anything.
Mona's anger and changing mood were felt across the Village. Mona was finding Loriana once more, Barric and Maizey had truly found each other in sadness, and Barley had found the bottle.
He had been recovering, but the news of the Quell tipped him overboard. He could feel himself slipping into drink and depression and his wife, Ana, felt helpless to prevent it. She was trying to provide distractions, encouraging him to join Barric and Maizey in training outside as a precaution and for their company, but Barley was drowning.
Failing with the sponsors and leaving with his tributes in a coffin had always hurt Barley. Now District Nine's struggles would culminate in his failing to save his dearest friends. He had always tried when it came to the younger victors and whilst he knew he wasn't always successful, he hoped he had some positive impact.
Now they were going to die and there would be very little he could do. He was going to have to watch them both back in every victor's nightmare, for there were only seventy-five people who could express the true horrors of the arena. They had finally seen what was in front of them and were trying to make the most of what time they, had but it was upsetting to see. They were too late and he would not be able to give them what they wanted.
….
Chaff and Seeder knew they would be returning to the arena, but they were determined to do whatever was needed of them. Their plans for leading Eleven's rebellion had to change but they had people they trusted who would do the right thing.
Seeder, knowing there was no alternative had been able to come to terms with her fate. She would go into the arena and help in any which way she could. Haymitch would need her help and if she could keep his girl alive and gain her trust, she would have done a good job. She was not optimistic as to her own chances, but she had had a longer life, most of the other victors likely to enter the arena had years ahead of them. Johanna shared her exact fate and Seeder was not going to let the younger woman's efforts and determination go to waste. There was a plan, and they would all need to be focused. Johanna may need a guiding hand.
For Chaff, there was, in theory, an alternative. But Orchard was in his eighties and unwell. A return to the arena would be the worst indignity the proud man could suffer. Chaff loved Orchard and would never see him in another arena. He would volunteer if the time came. He just had to make those words leave his mouth.
But whilst he was resigned to his return to the arena, he was angry. There could have been more for him. He was Eleven's lead in the fighting element to their rebellion. He was 'The General', the leader each group took their direction from. Even if they were not aware of his exact identity, they followed his instructions.
He was going to lead the fight for Eleven's freedom and had seen success so far. He had organised raids on peacekeeper barracks without his identity becoming known. They had found out details of peacekeeping operations and further deployments in advance. He had organised the stealing and hiding of incoming weapons. Chaff's leadership was successful, and he was enjoying himself. He revelled in the fight and would have rather been defeated on the streets of Eleven than in another arena.
Yet it was the arena Chaff must return to. Reaped or otherwise, he would become a tribute again and must act up the drunken buffoon angle the Capitol loved to give him. He may be an alcoholic, but he was no fool. He was Eleven's General and whilst the title may have been the cause of much amusement, his leadership was a role he took seriously.
As always, he would be supported by Seeder, but her return to the Games was a waste. She was to support him in providing organisational, political and social leadership. She was to bring the entirety of Eleven together and become their interim leader after the peacekeepers and Capitol had been defeated. People respected her and trusted her to resolve the most sensitive of matters. She was not a fighter but now she would step back into an arena.
So much of their work was because of Orchard. Decades of groundwork, the very foundations of their rebellion and Chaff's operational success were because of his early efforts. The victor of the Fourth Annual Hunger Games, he had decades to get Eleven ready and undertake years of preparations. His victors had taken over the mantle and now he was probably going to lose them whilst he sat at the controls.
Chaff thought he maybe had a chance. He was not sure of the exact details of the plan, messages were slow to reach Eleven. But he had been led to believe that there would be an escape from the arena. He did not entirely trust Plutarch Heavensbee and was angry that the man had put them in this position, potentially jeopardising Eleven's rebel leadership, but he would have to follow the man's orders.
Helping Haymitch and his pair would be no hardship, it was not something he was reluctant to do. The girl had a spark, the same spark he saw in Haymitch, and he needed to support his friend in getting her to where they needed. The boy was charming, a complement to her, skilled with words and knowing what to say and when. That was something that couldn't be taught, and he simply needed helping along the way.
He would fight where needed, to support the Twelves and to take care of his own and Seeder's interests. He would have been fighting in Eleven regardless, so he was trying to reframe the situation he found himself in. He would have to fight once more in a literal arena, both for and against his friends and he knew that would be more difficult than fighting and killing peacekeepers. But fighting is what got Chaff to where he was today, doing the work he was proud of, and if his part in the whole plan was to return to the arena then he would need to do just that. He wasn't sure what that said about him, his love of the fight, but he had figured that if he could kill another child when he was one himself, he could kill peacekeepers more easily, morality be damned. Seeder would offer more wisdom in that regard.
But he could leave Eleven's fighting in the hands of people he had long trusted and know that they would do right by their people. He would go to the Capitol, stand alongside Seeder and do what was required of him. He could not, and would not avoid the arena and so, he would play his part. Eleven could win without him. His people were in a strong enough position that when the biggest push came, they could pick up the mantle and win.