Interlude


Tabatha Fender, 15
District Six
Victor of the 41st Hunger Games

"You aren't really going to watch those things, are you?" Tabatha asked, shaking her head as Bertie reached for the remote to turn on the other districts' reapings - or at least, the districts that had already had theirs. "What do you think you're going to see? It's the same every year – volunteers from One, Two, and Four, and unfortunate kids from the other districts trying not to cry or run away.

Bertie shifted uneasily on the couch. "I think things are going to be a bit different this year, Tabatha. The Careers are talking. You and Todd … you frightened them. The other Victors are wondering if there will even be a Career pack this year – or at least, if there will be as many volunteers."

Tabatha looked away. "I didn't want to—"

"I know. You were doing what you had to do to survive. That's all any of us can do in the Games. But Todd … he took it a bit too far."

Tabatha nodded. He was right. After the girl from Two had sliced off her hand in the bloodbath, Todd, one of their district's most promising young surgeons-in-training, had kept her from bleeding to death. In return, he'd demanded her allegiance – no matter what. She'd had no trouble playing along with that at first. After all, she owed him her life. But then…

Then Todd had begun picking off the Careers one by one, ambushing them whenever they were alone and slowly torturing them to death while Tabatha watched … and occasionally helped. Killing was part of the Games, of course, but he'd made it slow. He'd made it hurt.

By the time they were down to the final four, there was only one Career remaining – the girl who had cut off her hand. Once Todd was almost finished with her, Tabatha had asked for the pleasure of finishing the girl off herself – revenge for the hand she had lost.

Todd had never expected her to plunge the blade into his stomach instead. Then she'd finished off the girl from two, which was a mercy by that point, and hunted down the last tribute herself – one of the outer-district boys who had only survived so long by hiding.

Tabatha shuddered. Bertie was right, of course. She'd done what she had to do. But once she'd returned to District Six, her parents had wanted nothing to do with her. Her younger siblings could barely even look at her. So she had moved in with Bertie and his son Tyree, instead. For a while, things had been better, but now it was all about to come crashing back.

Because she knew what she had to do.

Tabatha took a deep breath. "Then I should mentor this year."

For a while, Bertie said nothing. He didn't even ask if he was sure. He knew she was. The Capitol would eat it up. They couldn't resist drama. And anything that satisfied the Capitol could only help their tributes.

Her tributes.

She just hoped that would be enough.


Yeah, that was light and fluffy. My apologies, but I couldn't resist spitballing some sort of explanation for our current lack of traditional/older Careers. Feel free to play with it, build off it, or have your tribute completely ignore it and volunteer in spite of it. Four Career spots and both from Six are still fair game, so if this gives you something to brainstorm with, have at it.