137th Victor D3M Mentor Morse Franklin 29
Another year another batch of children was ready to die in another bloodbath. I think of the dead children I mentored for the past eleven years. Morse Franklin, the Victor of the 137th annual Hunger Games, the mad genius of District 3, they called me, I think, sourly. So creative, so ruthless, they said uncharacteristically of a District 3 tribute, thinking it was a compliment. Even the Capitol compliments hurt him. He remembers before his games where they laughed at him, betting that he was the first to die. And some people say we aren't animals. What utter nonsense. Well… animals don't do this, Morse thought as he looked at Doffy Rose, the escort for District 3, picking the poor child for this year's Hunger Games.
Doffy's bright pink eyes and matching pink suit were an eyesore, but Doffy wasn't half bad as escorts go. He typically ignored Morse, focusing on attending parties and gossiping. At least he didn't actively make Morse's job harder. He remembered how his staff tried to bet against him (escorts are prevented from gambling on games) illegally when he went into the arena; he actively leaked parts of his strategy to the betting halls, ensuring everyone knew it. He planned to appear weak and meek, offering his skills to reuse the mines from around pedestals they put tributes on to protect the camp around Cornucopia. He had watched how a boy from District 3, to save his skin, offered the same thing to Careers. The boy didn't win it. Some girl from District 12 won, but Morse realized he could use the boy's strategy and improve. It was an old game, and the District 3 boy didn't even win or come close to winning, so no one remembered how the Careers lost their supplies in the explosion.
The Career mentors tried to warn their tributes, but they had never been the type to be thinkers, and by the time they managed to think of a way to warn them against me, it was far too late. My district token was my father's pocket watch, and the pocket watch was great for keeping track of mines I wired to blow up. I got the entire alliance at camp, and I could hear screaming the explosions…
My thoughts are interrupted when Doffy calls out a name. "Battery Chang, your female tribute District 3," ae smiles at the audience. Pink bastard enjoying this, I thought as I watched a skinny impoverished girl who probably wasn't even sixteen slowly walk to her death. It is not her fault. Sadly, District 3 tributes work from a young age in electronics, designing and building drones, medical equipment, computers, radios, televisions, explosives, force fields, and other tools for the Capitol. We typically sucked on the off chance we survived the bloodbath in the outdoors wilderness arenas, and our strengths weren't built to last in the wilderness. In my games, I offered my services to Careers. The bastards laughed at me and said if I managed to get the mines to work, they let me join, but it was oblivious as they looked bored; they hoped I blew myself up. "Max Collins," Doffy screams as he pulls from the boy's bowl. The boy seems 12 or 13, barely eligible for the games, and just screamed bloodbath. My fellow mentor rolled my eyes behind my green shades and thought, damn the Capitol and damn the Hungers Games.
147th Victor D4F Mentor Brook Darry 18
Brook Darry's heart was pounding like a drum. It was her first-year mentoring. Usually, they traditionally would mentor in the following games after a tribute win. They would swap in District 1, and new victors usually had a few years before they honored a tribute. In District 4, they weren't like the outer districts that pushed the duty of mentoring on the newer victors as it was technically law that the latest victor had to mentor. It usually wasn't enforced in Career Districts, where veteran victors typically mentored a few games swapped with each other. District 4 was different than the others while typically allowing the newest victor to not mentor for a couple of years. The last female victor before her had a mental breakdown after watching her friend's son get eaten by a strange mutt mixed between a deer and a coyote.
None of the other female victors volunteered to mentor this year, so Brook had to do it by default. As she looked at Nike Whispers, who had a loud high, pitched voice contrary to her last name, which was like a screeching car, who took her escort status as District 4 so seriously, she dressed in blue and green. With blue hair and blue eyes in a brilliant blue dress with blue fingernails, she always claimed she had the best district. She despised the District 1 and 2 escorts. She told Brook frankly disgusting rumors and stories they did while at parties that made Brook's stomach. Brook personally liked her. She was only twenty-three and only five years older than her. This was her second-year escorting, and she was surprisingly helpful during Brook games. She was typically quiet and shied from letting Brook's mentors handle the strategy nervous over her first-year mentoring. This wasn't as stressful as Brook getting reaper for the games, but Brook learned the only reason she became an escort was that her dad, one of the wealthiest men in Panem, wanted a prestigious job for his daughter, so a few promises and bribes got her the gig. She originally wanted to be a doctor but didn't have the scores to get in. Her father, while upset, saw an opportunity to get her a job when the last escort for District 4 died after a drug overdose. He would often brag about his children, his son a Gamemaker, and his daughter an escort for District 4.
I learned Nike has always rooted for District 4 since she was a child. Brook also knew certain Capitol citizens had their so-called "teams," meaning that some people only embedded for one district. Her ex-boyfriend was a rabid District 10 fanboy to the point that they never watched the games together.
I wondered why I liked Nike the girl was ignorant to the end of the comedy, but there was a genuine sweetness to the girl she didn't expect. She smiled at the crowd, but Brook knew she was nervous when she yelled "ladies first" and reached into the bowl. She pulled the paper and read the name in her Capitol accent "Kira Dawn," a sixteen-year-old girl with blond hair, suntan skin, and athletic build in a white blouse and blue skirt with a sullen look walked to the stage.
Shockingly though, considering what she heard about her back in school. I was only two years older than her. While I never personally met her, she remembered hearing teachers hated her for distracting class and remembered she was on her school soccer team. She was infamous for her pranks and mischievous personality, but she walked to the stage with a look of sullen defeat. Brook immediately doubted her chances to win. In the Hunger Games, willpower was everything. If you entered with a loss mindset, the only you'd get is death.
I looked at my fellow mentor Mako Hizuki Victor of the 138th Hunger Games this year. He was 27 years old handsome, strong, and the intelligent fellow who was second in command of the Career Pack. When the current leader, the boy from District 1, annoyed everyone with his ego and smugness to the point, the pair from District 2 came to Mako and his District partner with the plot to kill him and the female District 1 tribute, who, while annoyed by her partner was loyal to him. Mako agreed to say they should wait until the following award was killed and convinced his partner they should agree. While hunting District 10 boy with the District 2 boy, Mako stabbed District 2 in his back. The boy from 10 was so shocked Mako was able to tackle him and tie him up, gagging him with some vines. He then told his allies that the two boys got killed by a tiger mutt. He and his district partner, along with the girl from 2, murdered the pretty pair from 1. Mako and his partner forced the District 2 girl to stick with them as she couldn't leave as one of them was always on watch. Mako later killed his partner by putting some poison he got from smashing some berries in her canteen. As she started hacking her guts up, the girl from 2 was so taken back that she didn't have time to block Mako's spear from her throat. A remaining couple of tributes were easy targets for Mako. The boy from 10 who Mako tied up was right where he left him a couple of days ago, and Mako, with a single spear, stabbed in the throat, won the 138th Hunger Games.
Mako had a reputation for being cold-hearted and untrustworthy, making most of his fellow victors even in District 4 wary of making conversation. He was notoriously aloof and reserved, so I was very nervous working with him in my first year of mentoring. I spoke with him a couple of times with a polite hello in the Victor Village. He always responded with a nod and an awkward wave. Sebastian Sparrow Victor of 140th, a handsome blond-haired, blue-eyed 24-year-old man, was supposed to mentor this year, but Mako insisted he should mentor this year. Sebastian shrugged and told him thanks. As I watched the boys reaping this year, I wondered what compelled Mako to volunteer to mentor this year. Nike fumbled in the bowls full of reaping papers; I looked at Mako's guarded expression. "Corey Teague" Nike yelled in high pitched voice. A tall boy with dark black hair and sea-green eyes with a severe and solemn face exclaimed, "I volunteer," as he strolled to the stage. Nike was nervous, fidgeting in her dress under the boy's stare.
"Pike Staunton," he said to the crowd as he grew impatient with Nike fidgeting and stammering. Pike Staunton, the name sounded vaguely familiar to me, and then it clicked he was one of the Careers at the Fishery. The Fishery was a training center that kids who planned to train for Hunger Games attended after school hours and on weekends. Unlike the Dollhouse and Academy, which handled everything from lessons on grammar to killing starting at five years old. The Fishery was an after-school thing activity center training kids from Hunger Games. It only taught basic survival skills, hand-to-hand combatant, reviewed old Hunger Games footage and gave advanced swimming lessons, spear/trident, and how to weave more complex nets. District 4, unlike 1 and 2, wasn't filled to the brim of people eager to volunteer for the Games. We usually had one volunteer a year, but it wasn't uncommon for us to have none. I never trained for the games, but I grew up swimming and spearfishing at my family's local restaurant. The fish I caught was what we used for our little restaurant. It wasn't the biggest or most popular one in the district, but it was home to me. And the constant practice of spearfishing and swimming made me lean and muscular and gave me the necessary skills to win my games last year.
As Pike and Kira joined hands together, I noted the look of determination that flashed on Kiara's face and the distaste on Pike as they waved to the crowd. I hoped they got along at least or pretended to do so. Having her partner as an ally is valuable. My partner got cut down at the Cornucopia trying to protect me while I grabbed supplies. I still visit his family, sit with his dad, and try to offer them some of my winnings. His dad always refuses and politely asks how I'm doing.
On the other hand, his mom hates me and barely speaks to me when I come around. I don't blame her at all. Her son could've won if he wasn't protecting me. As they led the tributes to the Justice Building as people mingled together, expressing relief that it wasn't a friend or relative of their own this year, Mako walked up to me wearing cargo shorts and a black T-shirt. He studies me and says, "We might get a winner this year" I nod, afraid to say anything to the infamously antisocial victor.