Chapter 48: Calico Pepper

A/N: All they saw was a fat goody two shoes. They saw a piece of cannon fodder, someone who was unfit to wear the crown. They saw a dead girl walking. They were wrong. Horribly wrong. Together with her band of allies, Calico Pepper was going to prove everyone wrong the only way she ever knew: through her cooking.

P.S. Shoutout to peachiebumblebee for the original tribute idea, I kept the surname, just used my planned first name for her. Thanks a lot for the idea! And thank you to Willuna too, who gave the candy land idea. I know you talked with me about being a stylist on Discord (btw, join cartierscrown's Discord if you wanna talk or hang out, I'm pretty active there, the link is in his profile), but uhh, how's being an escort instead? Lol, I gave you a POV so hopefully, it's fine.

P.S.S. If you're still reading this and interested, cartierscrown, Willuna, TigreMalabarista, Ice that falls like snow and TheBookworm can reserve one Blue Moon tribute each (MeTheFanatic19 has already taken the D2 female). Deadline for reservations is probably February next year. You don't have to give me a name, just need the District and gender. As for everyone else, I'll open submissions soon after I've received all the reservations. (Oh and no review subs pls, just PMs, I don't wanna get caught breaking the rules or stuff)

Katniss peered closely at Calico's fairly round face, sprinkled with freckles. "She doesn't look like much."

"A lot of Victors appear weaker than they really are," Peeta pointed out. "I remember watching a recap of her Games."

"How did she win? I forgot," Katniss admitted, scratching her head.

"She was a clever tribute," Peeta said. "An excellent cook who got a lot of tributes together."

"A likeable person?" Katniss chuckled softly. "Sounds like the complete opposite of me."

Peeta smiled. "Nah, people love you, Kat. But I can't deny, the other tributes really loved Calico."

Calico Pepper

District 8

Aged 15

8 Kills

Woof:

District Eight was a hopeless case. After more than thirty years, I was still the only Victor around. It was a doomed romance, Eight and the Hunger Games, a romance doomed to fail right from the start. I sighed, my pen dancing across the pages across the new book that I was writing. I was all alone in this Victors' Village, with no fellow Victors. Even in the Capitol, I didn't really talk much with everyone else. I just sat in the background reading the latest novel or watching another romantic film that had just been released in the Capitol. Sure, Marina, Nikola and Ringo were a great bunch and I did love talking to them, but sometimes, I just preferred to deal with the Games anxiety by myself. So many years, so many long years, close calls, disappointing Bloodbaths, ugh, I was sick and tired of it. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of it! All I wanted was a nice quiet life, and preferably a good relationship with my now deceased sister Braid. Was that too much to ask?

Lunchtime. Any time now, and sweet little Calico would come around with her tarts and stew to brighten my day as she always did. Calico was a darling girl, a merchant and the niece of a textile factory owner who was richer than most in the District. She used her wealth for good, however, cooking up meals for the impoverished workers every day without fail. Her efforts proved particularly effective after that nasty freak tornado, the one that wiped out two villages in a relatively rural part of the District. Calico was ready on site to help out, busying herself with cooking and brewing medicine. She was a hard worker, a busy bee always scrambling about in that tiny kitchen of hers that packed quite a punch full of surprises. Everyone thought she was just a sweet little girl, but I'd known her for years. She also had a witty mind, and could spout a few clever lines here and then, although her own humbleness prevented these witty traits from coming out much. In the dark, dreary District known as Eight, she was the bright spark we had desperately needed for generations upon generations. There was without a shadow of a doubt that she was the least deserving person to go into the arena. So naturally, she was the one who got Reaped.

I could remember Calico holding her sisters' hands as she led them to the Reaping square. It would be Mary and Spinner's first Reapings, and it would be her brother Canvas's third. She was a gentle, motherly sibling, and at the same time, took care of Mary and Spinner's friends Gingham, Ursula and Georgia, all of whom were born to parents busy in the factories during Reaping hour. She treated them well, caring for their needs and comforting them before the Reaping even began. She would probably even volunteer for them. Calico was a wonderful person in that way. I sat quietly in my seat as the Reapings drew on, silently reading a new book called 'Foreboding Heart', written by Louie, the brother of our District escort Willuna Amora, who had been with us for seven years and was beginning to sound and look extremely frustrated by our incredible ability to lose year after year. Her frown and unenthusiastic told the whole picture: she wanted out. "If you don't win this year, I'm quitting," Willuna threatened, which wasn't really met with much protest, if any at all. As far as escorts go, she wasn't particularly special and worth holding on to. The Reaping procession continued and the reading continued too until it was time to pick the tributes. I lowered the book, sighing deeply.

"Please let the tributes be built like tanks or something," I hoped, my voice soft and desperate. In District Eight though, an impoverished, urban District o tailors and weavers, there was never such luck. I held my breath, awaiting the selection of this year's pair of walking corpses who would all but certainly die gruesome, horrific deaths in some stupidly horrific arena. Willuna pulled out a name and scrunched up her face. She gritted her teeth, as if she somehow recognised the name. I raised an eyebrow. It couldn't be her, could it?

"Calico Pepper," Willuna exhaled, a hint of sympathy on her face as she dropped the accursed slip of paper, looking back at me with a regretful expression. I smacked my forehead with my book, swallowing hard as Calico marched up the steps, chewing her lip nervously. The sounds of little kids screaming filled the square, followed by loud, blank gunshots. I squeezed my eyes shut. Life wasn't fair.

Willuna:

I hated my job. I wanted so badly to quit. Sure, I had threatened to do so, but firstly, no one in the District actually cared about me, and second of all, I had to feed my husband, Nick, who was stuck in a vegetative state, and my little baby Portia. I had no choice but to keep this job. It was the only one I could ever find, and the only one with a decent enough wage. I sighed, plopping down on the soft, velvet couch on the train, sipping my warm cup of tea. Ah, it was so nice! An image of me in my mother's old house, on her comfy bed, with our little kittens Willow and Luna by my side, flashed into mind, enveloping me in a sea of unbearable nostalgia. I took a deep breath. Some memories were best kept hidden. The tributes entered the train. Calico and Threader, two weak little kids who I knew wouldn't stand a chance. But I wanted Calico to win. I didn't know much about District Eight, but from what I'd gathered, Calico was simply the purest soul in the entire District, the motherly figure, the gentle cook, the person you could always count on to take care of you. And now, she was probably going to die. Oh, how I hated these Hunger Games! They were so pointless, tossing away the poor lives of innocent little kids with so much potential in their lives. It just wasn't fair. And it was horrific how it took me so many years to come to this realization. I had once been an escort like the rest, a Games fanatic, a hardcore patriot. But three years into the job, and after getting along rather well with Woof, who was a sweet guy, really, I began to think twice. Who knew killing twenty-three children for your own entertainment and pleasure could be so barbaric? But of course, I couldn't say a damn thing. Portia would be killed, along with Nick and of course, myself. But I made sure to raise Portia to be a rebel, someone who had secretly detested everything the Capitol and Panem stood for. Woof came in, clutching my estranged brother's book with him. Oh, that little rat Louie! Running off with all our inheritance and leaving both me and Emmanuel in the dust of poverty. Emmanuel ran off, never to be seen again, but I tried to build myself up from the bottom. But I would never forgive Louie for what he did to us. Calico, Woof and Threader took their seats. "So, what are your strengths?" I asked. Woof usually asked that question first, and he looked at me quizzically, as he should. But this year, I was going to put extra effort into getting a Victor. Nick needed some expensive Capitol treatment, so I needed a bigger paycheck, a larger salary, and the only way I could do that was by getting a promotion to Districts One, Two or Four. Heck, even Seven or Five would work. Just not this District of miserable cloth people.

Calico tried to give Threader an encouraging smile. "You go first." Threader sniffled, wiping his sore eyes with his dirty, grime-caked sleeves. Calico stroked the young twelve-year-old boy's hair. "Everything will be alright, don't worry. Just tell this lady your strengths."

Threader shook his head. "D-does stitching count?"

I sighed, but Calico spoke before I could. "Ooh yes! You never know, it might come useful! Remember Laurel and her Games?"

I blinked. Calico had a point. No skill could be ruled out in the Hunger Games arena. Laurel's frosting skills seemed useless at first, but she had made good use of it to win in her cake arena. I had no idea how stitching could be used in the Games, but one way or another, it might just be the key to a Victory. Oh, who was I kidding? Threader was almost certainly going to die, and his stitching was probably a useless skill. I turned to Calico. "How about you?"

Calico thought for a moment. "I can cook."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that it?"

"She has good social skills too," Woof intervened, looking up from Louie's novel. "And she's clever."

I narrowed my eyes at Calico, who gave a humble shrug. "Well, then, Calico. You might be able to impress the sponsors. But even that may not be enough."

Woof sighed. "Willuna, how about you let me do the mentoring?"

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. And just so you know, District Eight is a trending meme on Coriobook and Capitolgram, so we better get a Victor this year!"

Threader frowned. "What are those?"

"Never mind. You don't need to know."

Caesar:

Fifteen years. Fifteen years I had been in this job. Fifteen long, hard years. I was far from the thirteen-year-old boy who cheekily went up on stage and did the interviews before the Thirty-Third annual Hunger Games. Right now, I was twenty-eight and starting to lose my mind. I plopped down on my chair next to Claudius Templesmith, the new co-commentator of the Games. He was a sharp, straddling twenty-year-old man with a puffy nest of pale hair that curled and twirled around in big fat spirals. He wore a coat of enthusiasm, always chattering excitedly about the Games. I nodded along, but deep inside, I knew that there was more to it than just this tip of the iceberg the Capitolians saw.

Earlier that day, I stood at the doors of the newly opened Draco's Lair, a trendy new restaurant on Mystique Street that attracted many young Capitolians in the hopes of achieving Capitolgram stardom. It was owned by Snow's young son, Lucifer Snow, a devilishly handsome man with sleek white hair and a cold pair of snake-like eyes. He was born with the gift of the silver tongue and was just as power-hungry as his cruel father. I glanced at my watch. Any moment now. Was the District Four train late? Mags was complaining about faulty tracks last year but I would've assumed they'd gotten that fixed. Perhaps not. I gazed out at the landmark before me, right at the end of Mystique Street, not too far away from Draco's Lair. The Walk of Victors. Forty-seven statues, a few considerably faded compared to the rest, towered above a stony boulevard, their stone eyes bearing down on passers-by. Right beside the Walk of Victors was a large public lawn, where a family had a picnic and a young girl was doing a dance to upload on TikSnowTok. Life buzzed by, happy and carefree. I just wish the Districts could be blessed with such bliss. And there she was. Axel always teased me about how I never could act completely normal around her, but how could I? Iris, the Victor from District Four, walked up to me and embraced me, her touch warm and loving, sending a fuzzy feeling up my spine. Her long, flowing blonde hair, whirling and whistling in the wind like gentle waves, never failed to entrance me. But her eyes hid a dark secret. The lost, unending trauma of victory, forever implanted in those clear blue eyes. All the years she had to witness boys and girls from Four die in the arena, as well as the Games' underlying effect on Jolien, Timmy and especially Rafael, it would break anyone. And all the times she suddenly froze up and muttered about Diadem and Cyrene, it crushed my soul to watch her mentality degrade to such a state. Nevertheless, her sessions with Gwen, the psychiatrist amongst the Victors, had proven useful and she handled her trauma fairly well compared to Shocker or Gadget. My mother, Switch, the Victor from Five who had been victimised by my father Bartomeus, always jokingly remarked about how she and Iris bore striking similarities, something I tried my best not to think about during our dates. Gosh. We had been dating for well over a decade now, but today was the day. Yes, it most definitely was.

Not twenty minutes later, I had pulled out the ring and gotten to my knees, Capitol paparazzi swarming us like bees to a flower as our lips met, tears of joy streaming down our faces.

Back to the present. I glanced out at the streets of the Capitol, the large seas of crowds beginning to form under the bright spotlights and moonlit sky. Soon, the tributes would come out in their chariots and costumes and I would have to don that excited, eager expression once more like a forced mask. Claudius was chattering in his deep, booming voice about the thrills of the Games and how the tribute from Two looked oh so promising at the Reapings. I could only nod along, wearing a fake smile as I thought of Reyna, a Victor from Two I had gotten close to, and of all the times I had to witness her Victor husband Ragnar and her Victor daughter Lyme struggle hard to keep her mind afloat and steady. Reyna was a lovely person to talk to and I tried my best to make her laugh, or at the very least smile with my jokes and puns. She would sometimes do just that, but the pain in her eyes was unmissable. It struck a nerve every time Claudius made a rude remark about her PTSD, but I was never allowed to correct him. I just had to sit back and nod along as usual.

"Oi, Caesar," Claudius snapped his fingers, hauling me back to the Tribute Parade. "The parade's starting!"

"Oh, right," I mumbled, grabbing my microphone as the cameras zoomed in on us.

The director, Lyian Fairbanks, raised three fingers. Three seconds until we were live. I straightened my pose, donning my trademark smile like a con artist hiding a dark secret. Lyian gave us a thumbs up. "Hello, Panem!" I purred, grinning broadly at the cameras. We did all our usual commentary, commenting on the tributes, the Games hype and the new stylist of District Twelve, Livonia Stirlingshire, their fifth female stylist in five years. Then, it was time for the Parade. The real deal, the main event. Beside me, Claudius's eyes lit up as the anthem blared over the towering loudspeakers.

"Here we go!" he boomed, clapping his hands excitedly. "And there they are! District One, ladies and gentlemen!"

I bit my lip. Claudius never seemed to remember the tributes' names, he simply called them either 'tributes' or, sometimes, when he was in a particularly foul mood, 'rodents'. I, on the other hand, was implored by Marina to remember all the tributes' names. "I know it only makes it harder when they die," she told me, her eyes pleading. "But please, do them justice." I had been more than happy to oblige.

"Yeah, Victoria and Ace look simply fabulous!" I said, smiling through gritted teeth.

A flicker of confusion flashed across Claudius's eyes, but I guess he figured out in that tiny brain of his that those were the names of the kids, yes, kids, from District One, dressed in their usual flashy, extravagant Parade costumes."Ah, yes, simply magnificent, aren't they? And look, here they come, the tributes from District Two! Look at them, so dashing, so grand, so warrior-like..."

The pair from Two waved as they passed by in their flaming red chariot, dressed as mighty heroes of the past. I nodded. "Yeah, I love what Gennadios has done with Amazon and Festus this year. The colours, the patterns, they're simply fascinating to look at."

The Parade went on, with District Four being the highlight due to Tigris's brilliant ocean concepts that she had mastered and perfected over the years. Nothing much stood out there than that, but I did take note of the pair from Eight. Their escort, Willuna, had gotten into a brawl with their stylists the other day, so I was eager to see their costumes after that. Calico, the girl, was dressed as a cook, holding a pot in one hand and using a wooden ladle a mixture within the pot with the other. Threader stood next to her, gaping and admiring her skills while being dressed in an apprentice's costume, his apron a brilliant shade of red with complementing shades of orange and yellow. They looked a stark contrast from last year's pair, dressed as neon green socks with hot pink hats. Those poor kids looked absolutely miserable after the parade. But at least there was some improvement this year. I had spoken to Woof every now and then, trying to catch up with his writing, something I was a huge fan of ever since Iris gifted me one of his bestsellers for my fifteenth birthday. The poor bloke was desperate for a Victor and had had several close, promising calls before, but sadly for him, they perished in the arena, never to emerge alive. It must've been soul crunching for him. I had no idea how he, Ford and Axel coped with it. I would've taken a nosedive off the building due to the sheer stress. But Woof always talked about hope. Maybe there was hope this year, that slim chance that Calico would prove to be a surprise Victor. Perhaps, but the odds were hardly in her favour.

Marina:

District Four was having a bad year. And so was Panem in general. The coldest winter in over a century had befallen upon the nation, leaving many across the Districts to starve. Not even those in Career Districts were free from suffering. I had to take in multiple homeless children and feed numerous starving fishermen and dockyard workers. Of course, I didn't mind but I just wished it didn't have to come to this point. If only the Capitol could lend a helping hand for once. No, instead, they had tightened security, although from what Chaff had told me, the situation in Eleven was far worse, with dozens either starving or being massacred on a daily basis. It was nothing short of a horror show. Franc even told me about how even some nobles were struggling to get by especially since Panem endured a stock market crash that coincided with the harsh winter, along with an increase in freak storms and natural disasters. Just the other day District Four suffered a hurricane that killed fifty people and wreaked havoc across an already struggling District. The effects even reached as far beyond as District Five, according to Shocker, who had finally been allowed into the rebellion after cutting down on his alcoholism with a lot of help from Gwen. I had no clue where we'd be without that brilliant woman from Nine. We'd all be total and utter wrecks if she hadn't won her Games. Speaking of Nine, they had recently suffered tornadoes, tornadoes that had also affected Districts One, Eight, Ten and Eleven with varying degrees of damage. But Nine certainly took the worst of the blows. Damages to wheat fields and farmland were massive, and the lives lost simply could not be neglected even by the normally harsh Capitol, who had no choice but to send in aid if they were to get their precious grain supply back on track. Laurel had baked free loaves of breed for the struggling survivors living in daily torment, but even that wasn't enough, and the traumatic experiences could be reflected in the eyes of this year's poor, unfortunate kids from Nine, who looked absolutely shell-shocked, not because they were Reaped, but because the horrors they were forced to witness back home in Nine had exposed them to the raw cruelties of life, something they would never quite rack out of their minds. The rebellion wasn't faring much better either. Atom Huang, president of District Thirteen, had died due to a deadly virus that had spread rapidly across the Districts. His replacement, Callum Coin, had only recently been elected and was yet to make an impact. Oakette Mason and District Fourteen had suffered power outages as a direct result of heavy snowstorms and blizzards up in the north of this landmass. Meanwhile, back in District Four, our own Reapings had gone a little poorly. No, it had been a complete disaster! Two thirteen-year-old kids, both of them scrawny and missing their place in the Career pack, oh our luck was simply horrendous this year. I sighed as I embraced Adira and Cerulean, singing softly to them as they wept in my arms, bemoaning their almost inevitable fates. I thought that they would be devoid of any hope going into training.

I was wrong.

Calico, that girl from Eight. I didn't have the foggiest clue how she did it, but she practically gathered her own clan of tributes during training. I was stunned when I saw it. I couldn't believe my eyes, but there she was, cooking up lunch for all the tributes, wearing that warm, friendly smile even as the pairs from One and Two verbally abused both her and Threader, much to their mentors Lyme, Onyx and Geneva's dismay. And then she gathered the pairs from Three, Four, Five and Seven and proposed a large alliance to take down the Careers. And through some witty diplomacy that I could never quite wrap my head around, she managed to pull off the biggest alliance in the history of the Hunger Games. Adira and Cerulean came back to our floor all smiles, a stark and welcome contrast to their crying, sobbing states just a few hours ago. At least they were happy and smiling, that was all that mattered for now.

Ray:

Just when I thought my life couldn't get any worse, the national economy just had to collapse, didn't it? My business had been forced to shut down and now here I was, sitting down on an old, black swivel chair, swaying about gently as I gazed at the set of screens before me. My job, one that allowed me to earn a pretty good wage for someone without many skills like me, consisted of one simple task: survey the building and its premises at night, making sure the tributes didn't try any funny tricks to escape and no rebel from, I don't know, those scumbag District gangs went in and wiped the tributes out. But due to the already tight security measures in place, and the extreme safety of the Capitol, my job was boring as heck. I just sat there night after night, day after day, waiting for something, anything to happen, for a rulebreaker tribute to come around and pop up on the screens. At first, there didn't seem to be any, and I just sat there, wondering where it all went wrong. Then they came. The fat girl from District Eight and her little buddies, creeping into the kitchens in the dead of night. I jolted to my feet, my hand reaching for the phone to alert the Peacekeeper guards. But then the fat girl began to cook. That was when I sat down again. I didn't give a damn about my job, to be honest, and a free cooking show actually sounded pretty good. I was a big fan of Gorgon Ramses and his shows, and his fiery personality was a joy to watch. This girl was just like him, just minus the temper and constant swearing, of course. She put on a smile like a coat, happily buzzing around the kitchen, whipping up a nighttime feast for the thin, scrawny tributes who looked as though they hadn't eaten in ages. Typical District scumbags. We worked so hard and sacrificed third breakfast just to feed them, and yet they didn't even have half the brins required to eat. Disgusting. At least the girl from Eight seemed smart, and her warm, sweet attitude was something I hadn't seen in a long time. My phone rang. My mother. What was that old hag doing in the middle of the night, calling me? I raised my finger, ready to press the 'decline' button, but then I stopped and stared back at the fat girl. Her cooking, the way she communicated, it echoed that of my mother. Suddenly, a flood of memories burst into my mind, enveloping me in an unexpected flood of nostalgia. "I remember my mom's cooking," the girl from Eight told the little boy from Seven. "I remember her warm hugs, all her love. Never forget that your parents love you, Jasper." I didn't hesitate any further. I picked up the phone.

"Hello, Mom."

Threader:

I'm not going to die. I kept on telling myself that, hoping that I would soon believe it myself. The minute I emerged in the arena, though, I began to hyperventilate. I hyperventilated real badly. Candy, everywhere I looked, there was candy. That couldn't be good. I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but even I could tell that such an arena was bad news. There were no trees near the Cornucopia, just tall lollipops, about the height of three spinning jennies, spouting out of the ground that had a biscuit-like texture. The lollipops were multicoloured, with red, green, blue, orange, yellow, pink, purple, aquamarine and indigo lollipops looming over the ground below, but all of them had uniform white stalks. There were paths, although I hardly saw the point in them, made of tiles of rainbow-coloured candy. The paths all led to a large castle, coloured pink and purple with frosted roofs and sprinkled decorations, an impressive architectural feat even by Capitolian standards. Not too far away from the castle, the ground shifted to a steady green grass, eventually being blanketed over with snow-white frosting, the layers of frosting thickening the further a tribute was, eventually leading to a pink pavilion particularly buried in the snow-white frosting. A mere distance away, still on the frosted land, stood towering candy canes, about the height of five spinning jennies, the red and white towers of peppermint soaring high into the crystal clear sky. In another direction, on grassy land, was a gigantic forest of black liquorice, with eerie whispers emerging from within. Definitely not a place to head to. Also on the grassland was a cottage with peanut plantations and walnut trees surrounding the earthly brown hut. Only a short distance away was a huge tree larger than any tree I had ever seen before, made entirely of gingerbread. For some reason, the chocolate smile smeared on the tree gave off a murderous and dangerous vibe, one I was more than happy to avoid. Back on the biscuit ground was a vast swamp of thick, brown, chocolate sludge and fudge. I shivered as the countdown reached '20'. "Follow Calico," I told myself, taking deep breaths to calm my raging nerves. "Just follow her and you'll be safe." I looked around, trying to find our big group of allies. They were scattered across the odiums, all looking pretty nervous. Calico stood eight pedestals away from me to my left, scrutinising the Cornucopia and probably calculating her next time. My fingers slipped into my pocket and I rubbed my little brother Cambric's rag doll, feeling the rough texture and crude stitching, the little imperfections that perfected the rag doll, making it look and feel authentic. Ten seconds left. I took a final deep breath and got ready to run.

The gong rang. I whirled around and bolted away from the Cornucopia, before hiding behind a lollipop. Peering out, I barely managed to contain my fright as that humongous boy from District Two slashed the poor boy from Eleven's throat, blood and gore spilling out onto the ground. But where was Calico? I scoured the Bloodbath, frantically searching for my District partner. There she was, grabbing a basketful of supplies and food, then quickly fleeing the bloody battleground. Just then, the boy from Ten knocked her to the ground. My heart sat in my mouth. Oh gosh. I thought about running over to help, but I was just a scared, scrawny little kid who had gotten a three in training. The boy from Ten was bigger, stronger and, no, he was going to kill Calico, wasn't he? My teeth chattered, but I needn't have worried. Calico punched the boy, sending him backwards, then she continued her escape, huffing and panting as she ran towards me. "Hey, Threader," she gasped, pausing to catch her breath. I took the basket from her. "Let's go find the others, shall we?"

Plasma:

It was fair to say that in District Fourteen, the Hunger Games weren't a mood lifter. But after Ash was killed after leading a failed expedition out into the snowy glacier along with Umky, one of the top archers from Kamchatka, Oakette hadn't been very stable and I had to take care of her. Leroy was busier than ever and so were most in District Fourteen, but I found time to sit by Oakette's side to watch the dreaded Hunger Games. She watched with a stony expression, staring as the tributes scampered about. This year she had made the decision to support Calico, after receiving reports from Marina and Woof. I was a little sceptical, though. The girl was nice and all, but compassion got you nowhere in the arena. More often than not, the nice, friendly kids died and the brutal, bloodthirsty murderers lived on. It was just the way things worked, and it was something I couldn't do much to change. To everyone, I might seem like an awfully pessimistic person but the reality was, when the Capitol annihilated your family and your life since then had been a series of injuries and illnesses, it was hard to remain even the slightest bit optimistic. It felt as though the fight had gone out of me. And here I was, helplessly watching brutal crimes against humanity with Oakette, a girl who had escaped the Tribute Centre through trickery, but still suffered the mental effects of watching kids die in the hopes that their murderers joined her cause. On the screen, Calico was whipping up a fine shepherd's pie for her shockingly huge alliance, in a bid to keep their spirits high before their planned attack on the Careers. Honestly, considering the fact that they were literally manufacturing spears and swords using the candy canes and liquorice available in the arena, I had no faith in this doomed operation. Surely, it would all fail? But hey, at least she made a good effort to try. Also, that shepherd's pie was making my mouth water. How the hell had she learnt how to make that? The recipe for such pies was unheard of in District Five, and the only people in Fourteen who could make those kinds of meat pies were Cibus Ringweller, a cook from the Capitol, and Fuchsia Hawthorne, a lady from the Seam in District Twelve. I had to admit, I had a slight craving for them, but I never told that to Leroy. He absolutely hated them. Anyway, Calico's nice, motherly gestures seemed touching at a first glance, until I caught sight of Oakette's sponsor gift. The drugs. The drugs Calico slipped into everyone's food. The drugs that made the tributes slightly but not considerably weaker. And of course, the napalm that she hid from the others. I had personally chipped in for that. After all, it was my idea. It was kind of an 'in the moment' idea, considering the fact that when Oakette requested for a suggestion, I was in the middle of designing a napalm blaster. But it should work. Calico looked uneasy, as if she might vomit, when she received the gifts at nightfall, but even she knew it had to be done. Maybe there was hope for District Eight after all. Just then, my phone rang and Felix was calling me for an emergency engineering meeting. I got up and shuffled off, leaving Oakette alone to watch the Games unfold, though I highly doubted I'd miss much of the action.

Canvas:

I was never eating chocolate ever again. I had once had a sweet tooth and craved every single bite of chocolate I could ever get my grubby little hands on, but after that scare? I wasn't taking a risk. As usual, I sat in my chair in Textile Square (creative name, I know, those Peacekeepers had no idea how to name things here), anxiously watching the Games. Usually, Calico would be here, comforting me, singing a soft lullaby to calm me down after every kill, covering my eyes during the goriest of scenes. Now, she wasn't here. Instead, she was in the arena! What on earth had we done to deserve this? All I did was steal some chocolate from that bakery's kitchen, I was sorry, okay? Please, I begged to whoever was listening up above. I'm sorry, just bring my sister back! Please! I want Calico! Beside me, Mary and Spinner tucked their faces behind thick blankets, to hide from the rolling cameras that would want to capture our reactions to whatever Calico did. Calico had told me to take good care of them during the Goodbyes, but how could I? I was thirteen, only worked part-time in a factory, and Mom and Dad were always busy. They couldn't even find the time to watch Calico compete in the arena! I glanced anxiously at Mary and Spinner. Spinner was hyperventilating. Okay, this was not good. "Hey," I whispered, pulling her into a hug a little awkwardly. "It's going to be fine, okay?" I knew that was false, I just didn't know what else to say. I wasn't Gwendolyn Whitfield or even Calico. I was a useless, chocolate-loving child.

Spinner shook her head. "But Calico, she-"

Just then, Mary screamed. I whirled around and gasped in horror as a large, murky brown blob of chocolate goo emerged from the swamps and grabbed hold of Calico's foot. She yelped in fright, desperately trying to yank her foot free, but the monstrous thing just kept on pulling her in. My heart began to race. No, no, no! She could not die! Not now, no... "Come on, Calico," I murmured, shivering slightly. "Kill the mutt!"

"Yeah, come on C-Calico!" Mary stuttered half-heartedly and pumping her fist into the air.

A cloud hovered above us. It was going to rain soon and the tarp would soon be pulled over to let us continue watching through the rain, but I didn't even notice. My eyes were glued on the screen, my body nervously fidgeting as I watched Calico hack and hit at the chocolate blob of sludge. Then, Threader rushed in, howling and screaming and waving about his candy cane spear, and he struck the blob in what I thought was its head. The blob let out a loud screech, like the ones Fuzzy the Cat always made whenever she wandered around our street, searching for scraps and another person to infect with a disease. My face turned green with disgust as the blob began to ooze out a shockingly green pus, before erupting right in Calico's face. She gasped, spitting out a mouthful of pus. That was when I lost my lunch, and my desire to eat even a drop of chocolate ever again.

Jarvis:

Being a tribute from District Three sucked. I was not strong, and unlike Wiress last year, I had no luck in getting any wires or electronic traps. They were at the Cornucopia, but the blonde dinosaur from One had made sure I wasn't getting anywhere near them. I was lucky to escape with only some cuts and bruises. Not to mention, recently, I had begun to feel ever so tired. My muscles ached and my head throbbed. Maybe it was Calico's stew? But she seemed perfectly fine and no one else was complaining, so why should I? It was a free, delicious meal, something I had never had in my entire life. I wasn't going to be a whiny bitch about it. Calico was literally the nicest person I had ever met. She oozed warmth and kindness, smiling through even the toughest of times. Considering the fact that everyone in my life had a tendency to constantly scowl, I took that to be a huge plus. Heavy storms in District Three had caused minor flash floods and power outages across the already miserable District, meaning that smiles were at a premium, a rarity in the gloomy tech District. My father had lost his arm during one of these flash floods. The details were gory and could put me in a panic attack if I even tried to recount them, but all I could say was, life in Panem was getting harder every passing day. At least Wiress commissioned the demolition of that creepy PedroCom building. That place gave the creeps. I was glad it was gone for good and replaced with a new, fully functioning factory. I sighed, wondering about our planned attack on the Careers. It seemed like a decent plan, but I wondered how effective it could really be. Calico couldn't fight, that much was known. The chocolate fudge attack back at the swamp had left her with a twisted ankle, and she hobbled along, using a branch from the gingerbread tree as a walking cane. And I doubted my own fighting abilities. Well, at least they were better than Teslee, my District partner, who was a scared, wimpy thirteen-year-old girl who shook terribly as she clutched her spear. She had screamed and insulted me during Training, so I'd say that I didn't mind her dying soon enough. At any rate, if we got into trouble, I would be pushing her straight into the direction of the Careers' weapons.

Staring out at the Careers laughing and prancing about in their camp at the Cornucopia, I narrowed my eyes. "Ready?" Calico hissed, raising her hand. I gripped my spear. Now or never. "Go."

The command spurred me to life. I leapt into the air and burst forward, letting my little legs power me towards the four Careers, who bore shocked expressions by this shocking ambush. I grinned. They didn't see this coming, this was our chance to end this once and for all! I grabbed Teslee by her wrist, ignoring her cries, and shoved her in front of me, into the feet of the girl from Two. Her yelps were cut short with a quick stab from the Career girl, but that had all been part of my plan. I kicked the Career girl, unbalancing her as she bent down to finish Teslee off, and then thrust my spear into her gut. Boom! Boom! Boom! Wait, three cannons? I glanced over and saw that the boy from One had stabbed Threader in the chest, the tiny weaver boy falling to the ground, lifeless. I shrugged. One less opponent to worry about. I ran over to help the pair from Four next, who were fighting the agitated boy from Two. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my guts, I charged forward and stabbed him in the back, feeling the adrenaline rush through my veins as I dealt the killing blow. These Careers had taken great pleasure in volunteering to kill us, so I took even greater pleasure in killing them. Chuckling to myself, I turned to see that the boy from One had been speared in the abdomen by the boy from Seven. Good. We were taking them out. Now it was the turn of the girl from One, the last Career standing. She screamed as she desperately tried to fend us off as we surged towards her, locking her in a cage of spears. She managed to stab Cosine from Five's shoulder, but it was too late for her. I smirked as I raised my spear. "Time to end your time in the arena," I sneered. "Hope you had fun."

Just then, something shot towards us. A fiery ball of silvery metal, zooming in at the speed of light. One minute it was there, right in front of my eyes, the next, it had exploded. And I didn't even have time for a final reaction. Next thing I knew, I had disintegrated into nothingness.

Katniss and Peeta held their minute of silence for Calico. "You know, her escort was Portia's mother," Peeta recalled, grimacing at the thought of his deceased stylist.

"Really?" Katniss said, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't know."

"Yeah. And she got promoted to District Four after that, but she always defended Calico like she was her own child," Peeta told her. "Calico came out pretty messed up, to say the least."

"I would imagine so," Katniss said, shuddering. "Blowing up all your allies with napalm? I mean, she had to, but still, with her personality, it must've given her some serious PTSD."

Peeta nodded. "Yeah. I wonder if she survived."

"Hopefully she did. She's the only remaining Victor from Eight," Katniss noted.

With that, the pair moved on to the next Victor. Peeta flipped the page, revealing a tall boy with tan skin and scruffy, dark brown hair the colour of soil. He had strong, muscular arms and sly blue eyes that stared directly into the cameras in an almost challenging manner. His pose was confident, brave, powerful, and it was not difficult to see why behind him, Gwen and Laurel looked rather uneasy. "Miller Thompson."

VICTORS

District 1-Sapphire Huntington(4), Onyx Hibonite(9), Franc Montgomery(14), Crystal Montgomery(21), Sterling Jones(25), Luxe Carmichael(36), Geneva Cooper(37), Cartier Cooper(44)

District 2-Ragnar Sveinsson(5), Reyna Boudicca(6), Draco Hadley(10), Scipio MacAllister(17), Freya Carson(22), Hercules Nichols(28), Julia Dawson(39), Brutus Gunn(42), Lyme Sveinsson(45)

District 3-Nikola Johnson(13), Gadget Schroeder(24), Beetee Latier(40), Wiress Jansen(47)

District 4-Marina Bluebell(1), Mags Flanagan(11), Jolien Fisher(31), Timmy Fisher(32), Iris Fisher(33), Rafael Fisher(34), Coral Thiller(41)

District 5-Shocker Crimson(8), Switch Kim(19), Flash Morrison(27), Porter Tripp(38)

District 6-Ford Hamilton(20)

District 7-Hassan Greenwood(2), Jill Wilson(15), Olive Sanchez(26), Birch Davison(35)

District 8-Woof Casino(16), Calico Pepper(48)

District 9-Gwendolyn Whitfield(18), Laurel Flamsteel(29)

District 10-Ringo Alvarez(7), John Gatwick(23), Mare Trybull (43)

District 11-Orchid Bloom(12), Seeder Crue(30), Chaff Mitchell(46)

District 12-Axel Millar(3)

A/N: And there we go, Calico, ladies and gentlemen! Very sorry for the wait, it's just that I've had issues lately and it ain't goin' well, but whatcha gonna do? I'm glad to be able to come up with a new chapter at last and hope you enjoyed it! Pls leave a review, those really make my day and I'll soon update the cover picture to Sapphire! That's all and have a good one!