CHAPTER X: DISTRICT FIVE
Fioynder "Fio" Itamor-Nilth, 15;
District Five Male, HE/HIM
- A WEEK BEFORE -
"Oh, that one's pretty," Floreen said, her head angled to the side in concentration. She pointed in the direction of the TV screen where she and Fio were watching the Chariot Parade of the 83rd Hunger Games. "I like District Four's… um…"
"The chariot?" Fio finished, peering at her expectantly.
Floreen nodded, almost bashfully. "Yeah, the chariots. Sorry, I blanked. I don't usually watch reruns of the Games."
"It's okay," Fio said. His hand snaked through the plush white carpet and patted her hand gently. A red tint flared over Floreen's cheeks in response, much to Fio's amusement. Lately, she always seemed to blush at the smallest things. "You know I'm always happy to explain!" he said.
She averted her eyes and sucked in her cheeks, embarrassed. "And you know I'm always happy to listen to you, Fio," she said, the sincerity in her voice as clear as summer rain.
He beamed at her, and the both of them turned their heads back to the screen. After District Four's chariot came District Five's. It was decked out with all sorts of industrial knickknacks, cords and wires overlapping in intricate patterns. The chariot seemed to glow from the inside out with multicolored LED lights that would pulse every so often with the names of both the tributes from Five: Coro and Amber.
The camera hadn't yet panned to the tributes themselves, but Fio's eyes were glued to the screen in anticipation. When it finally landed on them, Fio was disheartened, but he didn't even know what he had been hoping for. The District Five outfits were bad, like every other year. Coro and Amber were wearing misshapen sheets of foil, blue and red rubber wires snaking around their bodies in unflattering ways. They stuck out sorely in contrast with the electronic elegance of their chariot. Fio knew that it had been coming, if the reruns of other Games were any indicator; District Five always got fucked over in the costume department.
Still, he made his disappointment audible. "Oh, come on!" Fio roared, throwing his hands out in aggravation. "Those outfits suck!"
"Could you design anything better?" Floreen playfully teased.
With a dramatic pout he turned over to her and exclaimed, "Actually, I could! My outfit for the Reapings is miles better than what those trashy Capitolite stylists can design."
"Oh, wow, you already know what you're gonna wear?"
Fio smirked. "Well, of course! It's simply the best day of the year!"
She looked at him for a second longer before realizing. "Ah, right- it's your birthday, isn't it? Sorry sorry, I'm forgetful as always!" she raised a hand to her mouth and laughed, bashful. "It sucks that it lands on the Reapings, though."
Well, no, he wanted to say. His birthday was the best day of the year because it was on Reaping Day. But he didn't bother correcting her; no use in telling someone who wouldn't understand.
"Nah, it's all right. Gives me an excuse to dress up," he said. "Do you wanna see it?"
Floreen smiled at him. "Yeah, show me!"
Excitedly, Fio got off his feet and made a beeline for his room. He returned promptly, clutching a luxurious, tailored suit in his hands. "Ta da!" he exclaimed. With one hand, he held the hanger against his body to give Floreen an idea of how he would look in the suit.
Fio could envision the entire outfit effortlessly in his mind. Each individual component was catered to his particular taste. For the top half, he had a silky, long-sleeved white blouse that flared out gracefully around the collar and the cuff, and a vest that caged his form snugly. The vest had been expensive; it was handmade, and intricately designed with precise geometric stitching through the front of it with buttons made of glossy tortoiseshell. The lower portion of his outfit was significantly less flashy, just black slacks and leather dress shoes, but they worked well with his upper half to give him an impressive and flattering silhouette.
"Whoa, that's super nice!" Floreen said.
Floreen was too quick to congratulate. Fio had one more thing to add before he could call the look complete. From behind his back, he whipped out a blue tie and a pair of fingerless gloves. They were both a striking, electric blue- Fio's favorite color. "Can't call it complete before I put on these babies, too," he gushed. "You have to see it all on to get the full idea, but these accents really just cinch everything together."
Eager to resume watching, Fio set the suit on the couch, quickly smoothing out any wrinkles before plopping back down on the carpet beside Floreen. It looked like the training days had begun while Fio was preoccupied showing off his Reaping outfit. The cameras cut to a scene with the Careers, all of them discussing something in hushed tones. After a minute or so, they seemed to reach an understanding, looking at the District One girl expectantly. She nodded and meandered her way to the lunch tables, sitting down next to an outer-District kid. The girl from Nine, Calgary Barlowe, Fio noted. She was broad and muscular, her arms scarred with burn marks and thin, white scars. On the screen, One attempted to convince Nine to join the Careers, but Nine refused with a resolute "I'm not interested" and stalked off to someplace else. One scoffed and stomped back to where the Careers were, giving Nine a stink eye from across the room.
Fio clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "I'd kill to be in her spot," he said. "How dumb would you have to be to be invited into the Career pack and reject it?"
Floreen shrugged. "I don't know, I kinda get where she's coming from," she confessed. "She didn't train to be a Career. It's just… different."
"I guess," Fio replied. In theory, Floreen's reasoning made sense. Games culture wasn't all that popular in non-Career Districts, Five included, but Fio was different, he supposed. He had always been incredibly well off, with both his fathers being CEOs of a major power plant in District Five. Fio grew up with a lot of expensive luxuries, as well as some that money couldn't necessarily afford; namely, his priceless (albeit small) collection of infamous Arena weapons, and his biological mother who was a bona fide Capitolite. She was a retired escort, and came down every once in a while to shower Fio with insider trivia about the Capitol and the Hunger Games. It would be no surprise if his fanatical obsession with the Games was something he inherited from her.
After the first training day, the rest of the training days passed by in a compressed montage, tributes flitting to and from different stations in sped-up flurries of movement. Fio cracked a smile whenever the weak outer-District kids would try their hands at a weapons department.
"Literally half of these outer-Districts have never even held a knife before, and it shows," Fio snickered.
"Not all of them are rich enough to hold a training gym inside their garage," Floreen pointed out.
"Yeah, yeah, I know that. Touché."
A deep, male voice interrupted their banter. "Fioynder! Azoel and I are going to leave the house!" Fio's biological father yelled.
"All right!" Fio yelled back, doing little to dial back his volume. "What are you guys doing?"
"Gonna get a copy of the house keys. It shouldn't take too long. Floreen, Fio, be good!"
Azoel approached the side of the TV, taking his coat off the rack beside it. Fio's step-dad gave him a curt nod in acknowledgement, making him smile.
"We will!" Fio called out, grinning.
"No funny business!" His dad exclaimed, a teasing lilt in his voice.
In a matter of moments, Floreen's expression flushed a deep, deep red. She sure was blushing a lot today, Fio observed intelligently. He only laughed in response to his dad's joke; of course he and Floreen weren't gonna get up to anything. They had a Games rerun to watch.
Soon after Dad and Azoel went out the door, the house resumed its peaceful silence, save for the audio coming from the television speakers. The interviews were Fio's second favorite part; he always pretended it was him being interrogated by the Master of Ceremonies.
Eventually, it was time for the Five girl's interview. A faint voice, slightly tinny but sweet, arose from the speakers.
"I-I'm going to do my best," Amber squeaked. "For m-my family. For District F-Five. For Coro. He needs m-me."
"Amber's not doing too hot, huh?" Floreen whispered, looking over to Fio.
He blinked. "Wait, you really think so?"
"Well," she started, "she's stuttering a whole bunch. And she's not giving the interviewer a whole lot to work with. I can't see her getting very many sponsors like this."
"No, that's totally wrong," Fio argued. "If you listen closely, you can hear how forced those stutters are. My theory is that she's using her small physique and soft voice to her advantage, so that everyone ends up underestimating her. Amber's trying to make everyone think she's too weak to fight, but they'll be surprised when a knife ends up in their back."
A long pause stretched out between him and Floreen. Seeing that she wasn't saying anything, Fio made sure to usher in an obligatory, "But, you're entitled to your opinion." It's just wrong, but Fio knew better than to say that aloud. He'd like to keep on Floreen's good side; after all, she was his closest friend.
Still, Floreen kept quiet, which made Fio worry a little bit. "Hey, I'm sorry if I got a little too intense back there," he apologized, a little mechanically. "You know I always go on tangents when it comes to Games stuff, bu-"
"No, no, it's fine!" she said, shifting to gather her knees in her arms. "Honestly… I kind of think it's cute."
Before Fio could respond, she spoke up again, reddenning yet again for what had to be, like, the fifth time that day. "L-like, you're super passionate about all this. I don't get it, and I don't think I ever will, but I'm glad you have something you like so much."
Fio was at a loss for words. "I," he stuttered, "I…"
He couldn't find the words, so he consolidated for a different response entirely. "Thanks. Thanks for going along with everything, then," he said. "It's really nice of you."
She nodded, still a little pink. "My pleasure."
He smiled at her, feeling nervous for some reason, and then looked back to the screen. The rest of the interviews passed by in a blur, with Fio unable to concentrate until right before the countdown. The camera gave a wide, overhead shot of the Arena. It was an ambitious landscape, with three destinations a ways off from the Cornucopia; a sinister-looking labyrinth, a pristine peninsula with a volcano at its end, and another area corralled off by a dilapidated stone structure. When the focus returned to the center of the Arena, the disembodied voice of the Games announcer boomed enthusiastically over the heads of the tributes, all twenty-four assembled in a circle. There was a wide berth in between all of them, but nothing that could be bridged in the face of wild, human desperation.
"Oh, we're at the Bloodbath already?" Floreen said, her voice small. In the background, the countdown seemed to drone on in response. "I don't… I don't think I want to watch it. I know you like it, but I don't think I'd be able to stomach it."
"We don't have to watch all of it," Fio said. "Just a few minutes. I swear, it'll be fun!"
"Seriously, I don't-"
Her words were cut off by the sound of the countdown ending. Immediately, all twenty-four tributes shot off their plates. The camera shook furiously as it paneled over the Arena, trying to capture the anxiety of the tributes in high quality as they fought to survive their first encounter in the Games. Coro and Amber were hand in hand as they skirted along the far outskirts of the Cornucopia, trying to get as many supplies as they could before they inevitably broke away from the chaos. They each had a moderately-sized backpack on their shoulders- it would've been good enough to last them for a while if they could get away safely.
However, it wasn't going to be that easy. It could never be. A blurry figure equipped with a discus the size of a shield came barrelling towards them from the far distance- the Nine girl- with the girl from One hot on her trail. Nine was heading straight towards the District Five pair, and with a reckless swipe of her arm she released the discus in an effort to dispatch both the Fives and her relentless adversary. The discus went soaring, right across the back of Coro's neck and flat against One's side, knocking the breath out of her chest. Coro gurgled helplessly, clawing blindly at his neck with five trembling fingers. He only succeeded in opening the wound further, crumpling to the floor as the blood slicked down his back like a waterfall, relentlessly gushing from the source and wetting the coarse ground below. Within a matter of seconds, his head went limp, eyes glassy with death.
The discus had grazed off a layer of Amber's long hair, missing her tender skin by mere millimeters. Unfortunately, her District partner hadn't been so lucky. Staring at his carcass in horror, Amber shook, releasing her District partner from her grip, the same grip that had held him fast as the discus came flying. The back of her clothes had suffered a slice, but it was nothing like the gaping incision that embellished the back of her former ally's neck.
A few feet behind Amber, Nine was straddling One, having gotten the upper hand after temporarily incapacitating One with the brunt of discus. Nine was yanking out One's pretty blonde hair in chunks as the Career girl tried in vain to resist. Amber's small frame quivered as she stood, but her eyes were steeled over in determination. Swiftly, she stuck her arm in Coro's bloodied backpack and whipped out a hammer…
From beside him, Floreen retched, quickly clutching her hands over her mouth. "I can't watch thi- I can't-"
"Look look look!" He tugged at her arm furiously, too engrossed with the events on the screen to see Floreen's distressed expression. "It's about to get to the good part-"
"I feel really sick.I have to g-go." A little green, Floreen stumbled to her feet.
Without looking at her, he shrugged. "Fine, suit yourself!" he said, nonchalant.
She bolted out the living room, and it was only a few seconds after that Fio had the mind to say, "See you tomorrow," but the immediate doorslam that followed made him doubt whether she had even heard his words at all.
Well, no matter. It was a shame that Floreen couldn't appreciate the beauty of the Games the way he could, but he didn't expect anyone to understand his obsession, not even her. He watched gleefully as Nine raked her fingers ruthlessly across One's bloodied face, unaware of the shadow looming over her and the hammer Amber held in her frail hands until it was too late.
Keesha Cathode, 16;
District Five Female, SHE/HER
- A WEEK BEFORE -
These days, pickpocketing was boring. It wasn't as exciting anymore, but Keesha couldn't quite put her finger on the reason why. Maybe it was because there was no challenge to it now that Keesha had gotten good, but that didn't mean she was going to stop chasing those brief thrills. There wasn't anything better to do, and Keesha would be damned if she backed down now. One of these days she would hit a jackpot, an experience that actually made her feel alive; all she had to do was wait patiently for the perfect victim and prime opportunity to present themselves.
Earlier that day, Keesha had gone out to the city to go sight-seeing with her friends, like she did most weekends. Of course, the fun of sight-seeing in downtown Five wasn't for the decrepit skyscrapers and shoddy city-planning, but for the people that frequented the area. Keesha and her friends all sat on a metal bench, drinks in hand as they inspected the streams of people that walked back and forth on the pavement. No one paid attention to them as they idled casually, the cars driving along the intersection providing an instrumental concert of humming engines and the occasional honk.
Keesha had come equipped with her shades, as she always did. She always thought they gave her a cool intrigue. She sat in the middle of the bench, sandwiched by her friends on all sides. Flannery, on her right, was goofing off, (per usual) making funny faces at kids and babies in strollers. Bree, on Keesha's left, had her legs tucked against her body, her sneakers squeaking softly against the cold steel. She sipped her drink and paid little attention to Flannery's antics. Lastly, Keesha's back was pressed against Ampora's, the heat from her back enveloping Keesha's spine.
"Psst," Ampora whispered, jabbing her thumb into Keesha's shoulder blade.
Turning her head over her shoulder, Keesha swatted her friend's arm away, clicking her tongue as she said her next words. "What, Ampora?"
"Up for a dare?"
Keesha cocked an eyebrow. "Whatcha got?"
Ampora gestured for her to come closer. Keesha leaned in, listening intently as the other girl whispered something in her ear.
A beat later, Keesha was shaking her head, her box braids zipping around her lazily. "Uh-uh," she said. "That's weak. Give me a better one."
Ampora sighed exaggeratedly, but she rolled her eyes skyward in contemplation. After a moment, she turned her focus back to Keesha. "Okay, I think I got it," she said. She pointed far down along the street, where two well-dressed men were crossing the street onto Keesha's side. They were holding hands and seemed to be smiling as they chatted with one another. "They look rich enough, you think you could take them?"
"The both of them?" Keesha mused.
"Don't tell me you're scared," Ampora chided, her eyes alight with mischief. If instigation was a sport, she would be the ace of the team. "You're scared, aren't you?!"
"I wouldn't dream of it," Keesha shot back heartily, the corners of her mouth pulling back into a smirk. "Just watch me."
As graceful as a shadow, she darted over to the cross light where a crowd of people had amassed. She merged seamlessly into their group, face blank as if she was just another city-goer attending to her own personal business. As soon as the crosswalk lit up, she made her way down the strip casually, making sure to skirt along the side where the couple walked together. As soon as they were within a foot of her, she jostled herself into the side of the dark-haired man with the luxury coat, dipping her hand into the shallows of his pockets for something good. Her fingers landed on a rectangular shape— bingo.
Keesha yanked her hand out of the pocket as quickly as she had dipped it in, making sure to stumble a little bit. She let out a startled gasp as she dropped the goods she had swiped into her own pocket. "My bad, my bad," she said to the men, her hands outstretched in front of her in apology.
Her voice was nonchalant, smooth, and she didn't assume more blame than she needed to. She must've looked real rude with her shades on, too. Without another word, she continued down the rest of the crosswalk. It wasn't until she had lost sight of the men that she stopped and waved over to her friends on the other side. Even from that distance she could see Ampora cackling to herself as Bree tugged at her arm, likely inquiring as to why Keesha was suddenly on the other side. It was hard to miss Flannery as she jumped up and down, waving furiously to catch Keesha's attention.
Ah, shit. She hadn't been able to get something from each of the men, just one. And it was a wallet, which meant that she'd actually have to get it back to its owner, since she didn't actually plan on keeping somebody else's money. To top it off, the thrill from her stunt was already beginning to wear off.
What a pain, Keesha grumbled silently. She knit her eyebrows together, slightly frustrated. Keesha missed the anxiety, the anticipation, the adrenaline. The first couple times she had pickpocketed, it was an excitement like no other. It didn't even matter what she acquired; most of the time, they were insignificant things like candy wrappers, hair ties, bobby pins and buttons, but it felt fun to know that she could steal just because she could. The objective was never to cause any financial or sentimental detriment; all things considered, she was pretty well-off, so there was never really a point to her petty thievery besides the fun. Unfortunately, the more she did it, the less fun it got. Eventually, pickpocketing became mundane, and Keesha grew completely and utterly bored with it. She was itching to do something more.
Which was where the home invasion came in. Her father was a locksmith, a relatively renowned one at that, which meant that he had a copy of virtually every key in the area. They lived in a great neighborhood, so the houses there were bound to have some interesting stuff to see and steal. Breaking and entering quickly became a fun pastime she indulged in during the dead of night. It was a good way to entertain herself, since her father was always busy, even after dark.
And just like with pickpocketing, she never stole anything that looked to be of value. Just little trinkets she was sure nobody would miss or even know were missing; after all, she wasn't doing it for the material gain, but for the thrill- and that in itself was priceless.
She inspected the wallet she'd gotten, turning it back and forth in her palm. She whistled appreciatively; now that was some damn good leather. The wallet wasn't exactly her style, but she could still appreciate the quality.
Let's see if this baby's got a key or an address, Keesha thought to herself. She cracked it open to inspect the contents.
In the clear pocket, there was an ID that read "Azoel Itamor-Nilth". Interesting name. Along the fold of the wide side, there was a fat wad of paper bills inside. She took it out and flicked through it aimlessly, her eyes slowly widening as the twenties kept on stacking. Dear god, that really was a shitload of cash. Who the fuck was dumb enough to carry that much on 'em? They were practically asking to get robbed, though Keesha had taken care of that for them. Mr. Itamor-Nilth was lucky that Keesha wasn't actually planning to keep the wallet, or he'd be in deeper shit than he already was.
She shook the wallet to see if there was anything else inside, and as if on cue, a silver key clattered to the ground. Keesha bent down easily and scooped it back up, observing it closely. She flicked up her sunglasses to read the fine print along the width of the key. Just as she suspected, the inscription read Cathode Locksmith.
Either way, she didn't need the fine print to know it was her dad's. She could recognize his handiwork anywhere, the way the ridges were cut smoothly and elegantly, and the way that she didn't suffer any lacerations on her fingers when she ran her thumb over the sharp parts.
Nice. Keesha wouldn't even need to look through her father's collection of copied keys when she had the original right between her clever fingers. She was seriously going to break into the Itamor-Nilth household using their own key and return it. How ludicrous! Just the very idea was enough to excite Keesha.
That incident was the reason why she was now perched outside a fancy, modern-looking home in the middle of the night. With her father's key database, she tracked down the address the key belonged to. It was actually a little far from her neighborhood, but long walks had never deterred Keesha from pulling crazier stunts before. She stood encroached along the bush trim outside the house, peering through the windows for any midnight stragglers. There didn't seem to be any, but she did find it peculiar that the living room lights and the TV were still running.
Keesha snuck into the garage through the side entrance. As soon as she stepped inside, a faint light flickered on. She took a sharp breath and braced her ears for impact. However, no alarms sounded- seemed like it was just a simple light mechanism triggered by a motion sensor. In the back of her mind she hoped that there were no cameras around, but regardless, they wouldn't be able to identify her through her black hoodie and shades alone.
She crept through the dark garage, the air musty with the distinct smell of outdoor musk, gasoline, and mildew. It was definitely a strange place, unlike any garage she had ever seen before. The whole thing seemed to be fashioned in some sort of weapons shed. There were knives stacked meticulously against the wall, glinting lazily in the dim light. Alongside the other wall were cardboard cutouts that crudely resembled the shape of a person. Freaky, she thought, face blank. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest idea to persist in this endeavor, but Keesha had never backed down from a challenge— she wasn't going to start now.
Keesha steadily approached the door that led to the inside of the house. With precise fingers, she stuck the key into the doorknob and turned it. Sure enough, the lock yielded to her with a muted click. The feeling never made Keesha fail to smile. She turned the knob and poked her head in what seemed to be the kitchen, scanning for any potential threats. Still, she was completely unprepared when she made eye contact with another dark, concealed figure in the kitchen.
"You!" Keesha wanted to hiss.
Thank Panem the figure wasn't one of the inhabitants of the house, but a fellow thief that Keesha recognized. They took the alias of "Blaine", and that was all Keesha really knew about them. If she had a silver piece for every time she had run into them during a midnight home invasion, she would now have three silver pieces. Which really wasn't all that many, but it was weird that it had happened thrice. Blaine waggled their fingers at Keesha in a casual wave, as if they were seeing each other at school and not breaking into the house of the same rich stranger.
Keesha closed the door soundlessly behind her and crouched next to Blaine behind the kitchen island counter. She darted her head above it for a second and then looked back to Blaine, pointing to the direction of the lit living room.
Is there someone in the living room? Keesha mouthed, scrunching her lips into a scowl when Blaine only shrugged in response. Don't know, they mouthed back. You gonna go over there?
Keesha smirked. I'll go if you go.
They smiled, classically cheshire. Say less.
Rapidly, they scurried into the light, their steps swift but completely silent. Upon reaching the couch, they jumped back almost comically, but eased upon casting a further inspection.
What? Keesha mouthed from across the room.
Blaine pointed at something completely obscured by the couch. There's a kid sleeping! they laughed, chest heaving up and down silently.
Keesha was curious. Steadily, she made her way across the kitchen and approached the other side of the couch, opposite to where Blaine was positioned. Sure enough, there was a boy Keesha's age curled up on the white carpet, his soft snoozing almost undetectable underneath the sound coming from the television speakers.
The events playing onscreen were disturbing as fuck. Keesha had never been especially faint of heart, but the uncensored gore and violence made even her feel uncomfortable. It was probably best to just drop the wallet and the key somewhere, and then get the hell out of there.
It seemed that Blaine had found what they wanted to steal. In their hands they held a glittering vest with intricate gold detailing stitched across the front. It definitely looked expensive, which was always Blaine's goal to begin with; they usually aimed for the bigger prizes, the stuff that would actually be missed, whereas Keesha was content playing chaotic neutral. Scrutinizing the vest, they gave a satisfied smile and winked at Keesha. See ya! they mouthed, disappearing into the depths of wherever they had come from.
Keesha stalled for a couple moments before sneaking up to the coat rack beside the TV. She quickly flipped through several coats before recognizing the luxury one she had looted on the street earlier that day. Briskly, she deposited both the wallet and the key back into the pocket before making a beeline for the kitchen exit. In a matter of minutes, Keesha was already making her way down the street, away from the Itamor-Nilth mansion.
Mission success, Keesha thought, but if she was being honest, she felt no satisfaction from the matter. That was the first time a home invasion had been so easy. The most thrilling part about the whole ordeal had been watching as Blaine's hairs stood on end when they discovered the sleeping boy, but besides that, Keesha had no lasting impressions on the experience. The spark had dissipated just as soon as it had been lit. There had been no anxiety, no anticipation, no adrenaline; something in her was still gnawing to be satiated.
Keesha was running out of thrills. If not pickpocketing and if not breaking and entering, what would quench her thirst for a challenge?
DISTRICT FIVE REAPINGS
July 4th, 11:45 AM
Female Slot: Keesha Cathode - 5 slips
Male Slot: Fioynder Itamor-Nilth - 5 slips
a/n: hey what's up mothers and fuckers it's me, laney, here to flex these sexy d5 tributes. fio was created by one dracaryswolf, and keesha belongs to the one, the only, goldie031! *patiently waits for round of applause* yeah uh huh they're pretty cool aren't they. look at brooke's mind look at the way she connected them. that shit's GIRTHY yanno.
did ya know that 4 comes after 5? because i didn't but that's what we're doing over here in dungeons and dragons- no desire and dragons- no dungeons and- oh well whatever d this is. after miss keesha and this hunger games fanboy comes *squints at notecards* closeted golden retriever and overglorified sharkboy! *squints again* oh wait that's uhh jupiter and kai! it's almost career time babEY which means this party is almost over.
hold on to yer hats cus this shit bussin
de laney is out
