Sarmiento Polar Torres, 26.
Victor of the 203rd Hunger Games.
July 7th, 211 ADD, 14:46.
Sarmiento leaned back, his shoulder digging in almost painfully to the wall next to him. They were waiting for the annual mentor briefing, although the meeting didn't begin for at least another fifteen minutes. Sarmi just wanted to see if he could hear anything that the President or the Vice President were talking about before they opened the doors to the mentors. He could make out snippets of what they were saying, but they didn't seem to be discussing anything too important.
Continuing to intently listen, Sarmiento noticed that the conversation had cut off and that there were footsteps approaching the door. He jumped back, turning the other way to appear as if he wasn't listening in on the conversation. It cracked open, and the face of the Vice President, Archimedes Northcroft, popped out.
"Oh, you're here early," Archie said with a grin, opening the door wider. "Come on in, take a seat," he offered, gesturing to Sarmiento, and also to Ellie who sat nearby.
"This is new. What happens next?" Ellie asked Sarmiento as they took up two seats around the table, which was set with twenty four, for all of the mentors.
"Well, my dear, we're going to brief all of you Victors on what's going on this year," President Snow replied from the head of the table. She was an imposing woman, tall with icy, piercing blue eyes. Sarmiento had never been particularly fond of the woman; he found her presence extremely unnerving, and that feeling of unease was only increased by her inaction during the District Two epidemic.
The District 1 mentors sat and waited as the other mentors began filing in. Eventually, Sarmiento spotted the one person in particular he wanted to talk to: Omega Riley from District Two. The two were decently good friends, as they were both from Career Districts and had won only three years apart. Omega sent a small wave of acknowledgement at Sarmi as their eyes met, Sarmi returning the greeting with a nod of his head.
The last few mentors slowly trickled into the room. Some were chatting amongst themselves, filling the high, vaulted ceilings with the pleasant sound of voices, while others preferred to wait in silence. Soon enough, there was only one open seat, and it was right next to Sarmiento. He glanced at the clock on the wall nearby, which informed Sarmi that the final mentor was at least 5 minutes late. Sarmiento was never one to run late, and he didn't appreciate it when others did so; they were just wasting everyone's time.
The chatter began to die down, and it completely stopped as the large door into the conference room opened with a great deal of force. The final mentor- Revan Allerix of District 5 -stepped into the room, and he didn't exactly look pleased about the situation. His eyes scanned the table, and spotting the final empty spot next to Sarmiento, he stalked over and took his seat. Sarmiento had never been particularly fond of the District 5 Victor, as he always had a bit of an attitude, but they got on well enough, which was more than could be said for a lot of the other Victors.
"Good, now that we're all here, we can start," Genevive said, shooting a glare past Sarmiento right at Revan, who looked like he didn't have a care in the world despite the circumstances. Sarmiento had never seen anybody be so blatantly defiant of the President, but it was certainly somewhat refreshing in his opinion. Genevieve Snow did a decent job of running Panem, but at her core, she was just as tyrannical as her ancestors.
The President promptly launched into the same speech she did every year. As Sarmi sat, he pulled out a small notebook he kept on him, pretending to take notes on all of the sponsor statistics and whatnot, when in reality he was reviewing what he already knew. It'd been nearly a decade of the same opening speech - everything was always the same - and Sarmiento was bored of it. In fact, the exact words that Genevieve was saying were so ingrained in his mind that he could easily tune out the entire spiel.
After what felt like an eternity, the President finally stopped talking. Sarmiento again looked to the clock on the wall, discovering that a full hour had passed. He closed his notebook and stuffed it into his pocket, realizing as he looked up that Revan had been looking at his writing. His staring had been blatant enough, but he didn't seem all that bothered that he'd been caught. Sarmiento wasn't worried about it, though.
"How about you head back up to our floor? I've got some friends to talk to," Sarmiento said, turning to Ellie who sat next to him. She looked surprisingly attentive despite the incredibly boring briefing they'd just been given.
"Yeah, I'll head up. See ya in a bit," Ellie replied, scampering off to follow the stream of other mentors out the door. Sarmiento followed, looking for Omega in the crowd. He soon spotted the shorter man, catching a fleeting flash of blonde hair. Sarmiento moved through the crowd quickly, catching up to the District Two Victor and tapping him on the shoulder as he stood at the elevator.
"Huh?" Omega said, jumping slightly at Sarmiento's touch. Omega spun around to face him, looking surprised. "Sarmiento? What's up?"
"I wanted to talk to you for a sec, do you mind?" Sarmiento asked, gesturing to one of the balconies nearby. There were a few sets of chairs and couches scattered around outside, and there was nobody else out there, making it the perfect place to have a somewhat private conversation.
"Yeah, sure, as long as it doesn't take too long," Omega replied wearily. Sarmiento took that opportunity to get a good look at his friend; if Omega's voice didn't betray his exhaustion, his messy hair and the bluish-purple bags under his eyes certainly did. It was quite common for mentors to look this tired, but usually they didn't look quite this zombie-like until the return trip home from the Capitol. Sarmiento knew he'd come back home looking equally as dead.
The two men made their way through the large glass doors, emerging on the balcony which overlooked the Capitol skyline. They took their seats on two chairs facing each other with a large glass coffee table between them. There was a slight breeze, the warm air pushing Sarmiento's newly dyed purple hair out of his eyes as he looked at the tired Victor who sat across from him.
"So. What did you want to talk to me about?" Omega asked, crossing his arms in front of him. He'd always been an easy person to talk to, and yet Sarmiento was almost at a loss for words; how was he supposed to explain what he was doing to somebody so heavily invested in District Two? But Sarmi figured he could only get answers from somebody who was there, who was involved in the whole thing.
"Well, I don't really know how to explain it, but... I'm investigating the virus, to see if I can figure out where it came from, and why and how it started."
"You are?" Omega replied, perking up from what seemed to be disbelief.
"Yeah. I want answers, don't you?"
"I guess I do, but... sometimes it's best to let bygones be bygones," Omega replied, his brow furrowing. Sarmiento could understand why he didn't want to be involved in any sort of investigation. Omega must have been tired of it all, as the virus had consumed District Two for three entire years.
But didn't he want answers? Didn't he want to know why this was done, or who did it? Sarmiento couldn't wrap his head around that fact.
"But don't you want to know what happened?" Sarmiento blurted out, his thoughts becoming his words before he could stop them.
Omega made a puzzled face as he stared at Sarmiento, seemingly trying to form a thought. "Well.. I guess yeah I'd like answers but I'd also like to just put it behind me. Get back on track with things," Omega replied.
"I bet you can help me get those answers though! You were in the middle of all of it. If anyone can help me, it's you," Sarmiento said enthusiastically, waving his hands as he spoke as a form of emphasis.
"I dunno, Sarmi, I'll have to think about it," Omega said with a shrug, looking less than thrilled at the prospect. Sarmi internally groaned. At this rate, there was no way Sarmiento was going to figure out what was going on; he would never get the answers he so craved. Sarmi desperately tried to think of something else to say as Omega went to stand and leave. But before he could go further than a few steps, somebody new piped up.
"Gentlemen, how about I make you an offer."
Both of the Victors turned towards the sound, realizing that it came from none other than Vice President Northcroft, who was leaning against the railing nearby. "An offer?" Sarmiento said, "What kind of offer are you talking about?"
"How about we go somewhere a little more... private to discuss the details," Northcroft said, a pleasant smile crossing his face, although his eyes betrayed him. Sarmiento knew the Vice President knew something, or was up to something, and he had a feeling it involved District Two.
"Somewhere else?" Omega said, looking around nervously, "What do you mean somewhere else?"
"Oh, don't worry. I won't be killing you or anything of that sort. If I wanted to do that, you'd already be dead," Northcroft said with a chuckle. "I'd suggest you come with me,"
Sarmiento looked to Omega, who didn't exactly seem pleased about the situation, before turning back to Northcroft.
"We'll go," Sarmiento said, standing.
"Good, that's what I was hoping for. Follow me," Northcroft said, gesturing for the pair to follow him, which they did. Sarmiento didn't know what would happen next, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the answer he was searching for was just at his fingertips.
Revan Allerix, 18.
Victor of the 207th Hunger Games.
July 7th, 15:39.
Revan leaned back in the plush chair, his head swiveling to look around the cushy office he was in. He'd never been in the Vice President's office before, and, while it didn't compare to the President's, it was certainly nice. Even if Revan somehow became the Vice President, which didn't seem particularly likely, he'd still want to be the President just so he got the coolest office in Panem.
As Revan looked around the office, he couldn't help but wonder what was going on. Northcroft had requested his presence, but when the Peacekeepers who stood guard outside the door had let him in, there was nobody here. Usually when somebody of importance summoned him, it was because they had something for him to do, and yet there seemed to be nothing for him to do here. Revan considered snooping around, but he knew better than that. Besides, if he really wanted to know something, he could just ask around within his circle of contacts; he knew just about anybody who was anybody, which certainly had its advantages. Knowledge was certainly just as valuable as sheer fighting power, and Revan had a great deal of both.
The door to the office cracked open. As Revan's head quickly spun to see who was coming in, his hands instinctively jumped to his hip where his gun would usually be, even though it wasn't there. "Who's there?" Revan called, spinning around to sling his legs over the side of the chair. Sure, he was sitting in it completely wrong, but he really didn't care.
"It's just me, we're back," the familiar voice of Northcroft responded.
"We? You brought more people? Who?" Revan replied, squinting at the figures coming in the door. First was Northcroft, followed by two people who Revan didn't expect to see: two of his fellow Victors, Sarmiento Polar Torres from District One and Omega Riley from District Two. Revan couldn't deny that he found their presence strange; then again, everything about the situation was strange. But Revan was still interested to see how it would play out.
"Oh, three of you, so it's a party now is it?" Revan raised an eyebrow as the trio walked through the door to the office. Sarmiento and Omega took the two other open chairs next to Revan's, Omega seating himself as far away from Revan as he could. The two had never gotten along, especially not since Revan had killed Creed, something he was not proud of; Revan couldn't help but look down at his left hand, which still bore the brilliant white scar of the fight.
"What's the kid doing here?" Omega asked, referring to Revan.
"He's here for the same reason as you two," Northcroft replied, taking his seat behind the large wooden desk, facing the three victors.
"Well, you never told us what you wanted," Sarmiento said, Omega nodding in agreement.
"I figured I was coming here to kill people, but I guess that isn't happening," Revan called out, halting the conversation. He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out the lighter he always kept there. Finally noticing the lull he'd caused, Revan added, "Which is an upside."
"Kill people?" Omega shot him a confused look. "So the rumors are true?"
"Which rumors are you talking about, the ones that I kill people? Because I definitely don't do that, I've never killed somebody in my life, that's ridiculous," Revan replied, a great deal of sarcasm lacing his words, as he fiddled with the lighter, rhythmically flicking it on and off.
"So they are true. You're a Peacekeeper, aren't you?" Sarmiento chimed in, looking somewhat shocked. Revan knew his job wasn't common knowledge; in fact very few people knew his true identity, and even fewer knew what he actually did behind closed curtains.
"Good for you, you put two and two together!" Revan said with a grin, shoving his lighter back into the pocket of his jacket and mock clapping for Sarmiento.
"Okay, that's enough out of you lot, let's get onto what we're actually here to talk about," Northcroft snapped, cutting off the conversation.
"Good, I was getting bored anyways. So tell us what do you want," Revan said. Still sitting sideways in the chair, he stretched back over the arm of the chair, allowing his legs to dangle over its side.
"I'm here to make you three an offer."
"What does this offer entail exactly?" Omega inquired.
"I want you three to help me overthrow President Snow," Northcroft said, standing and placing his hands on the desk before him. The room went silent, almost like a gun had just been fired off.
"Overthrow... Snow?" Sarmiento stuttered out, "What do you mean, overthrow Snow?"
"I said exactly what I meant," Northcroft replied, looking Sarmiento dead in the eyes.
"Overthrowing the President, that's ridiculous! She's been nothing but good for our country," Omega scoffed.
"What's in it for us?" Revan asked, intrigued by the offer. He'd never been particularly keen on the President; after all, she was the reason he was in the situation he was in right now. She'd been responsible for killing his entire family, and she was the one currently holding his brother hostage. Revan would never forgive her for that, no matter how many years went by.
"You get your answers," Northcroft said, pointing at Sarmiento, "and you get your brother back," Northcroft continued, pointing at Revan, "As for you..." Northcroft paused, turning to look at Omega. "Well, there's not much you get, but we need you anyways."
"You need me? What for?" Omega exclaimed, looking quite distressed.
"We need you to talk to Havoc."
"Havoc? You need him for this? There's no way I'm doing anything if he's involved," Omega half-shouted, the mild mannered Victor unexpectedly raising his voice. He indignantly stood up from his chair, ready to storm out of the room.
"What if I told you Snow started the virus?"
Revan froze, just as all conversation did, the stunned silence crashing over them like a wave. Revan looked at Omega, whose face was pale white with shock, the dark circles beneath his eyes making his wide, bright eyes even more pronounced, then to Sarmiento who looked less shocked and more intrigued, leaning in closer to listen. All three seemed much like fish out of water, suffocating in the unfamiliar air. Unfamiliar to everyone but Revan.
He knew. Revan had watched President Snow sign the papers authorizing the development of a deadly virus (or at least, he thought that was all they were for). He'd known the whole time, without even knowing what the virus was meant to do.
Omega was the first to find his voice. "No way. That's bullshit."
Northcroft responded by picking up a file and tossing it across the desk to Omega, gesturing as it hit the table with a small flick of his wrist. The District Two Victor picked it up, flipping through the pages, his face only falling further the more he read. As he finished, Omega soberly placed the folder down on the table; immediately, Sarmiento reached for it, his face quickly turning just as pale as Omega's as he flipped through the documents. When Sarmiento finished, he closed the file and held it for a moment, staring blankly at the answers that had fallen right into his lap. Revan reached out a hand towards Sarmiento, and Sarmi obliged, giving the documents to Revan.
Revan had no idea what to expect as he opened the file; despite knowing of the papers' existence, he hadn't ever read them himself, and the file seemed even thicker than the stack of papers he saw Snow sign that fateful day. He couldn't help but be morbidly curious about what the papers contained, to see them with his own eyes. The president had treated them differently from the moment she signed them, adamant that nobody else was allowed to look at them, so naturally Revan wanted nothing more than to see what was written on those pages. But any excitement he might have had quickly dissipated as he began to read the file, which contained pages upon pages of research, all of which seemed to have been done on human test subjects. Revan's eyes scanned over the grotesque notes, detailing each subject's symptoms and subsequent horrifying deaths. At least a bullet to the head would put somebody out of their misery quickly, but this was torture of a different kind: human lives being dragged out, stretched so thin they were holding on by nothing but a thread, only finding an end to their suffering when that string finally snapped and they died.
And on the very last page, right there on the motion to unleash whatever had come of these experiments onto District Two, was the President's signature. Just where he'd watched her put pen to paper four years prior.
"So are those the answers you were looking for?" Northcroft said, turning to look at Sarmiento, who barely managed a nod.
"Why? Why are you telling us this now?" Sarmiento asked as Revan returned the file to Northcroft's desk.
"She believed District Two was getting too strong, too restless. Snow wanted to put them in their rightful place," Northcroft explained, taking the file back.
"By killing hundreds of thousands of people?" Omega snapped, his voice shaky.
"Unfortunately, yes. Once she set her mind to it, nobody could stop her. She is the President, after all, and her entire party backed her up because they don't have the sense to think for themselves," Northcroft replied.
Revan couldn't process it, his brain unable to move fast enough to keep up with the information he was being given. He could've stopped her. He had every chance to stop her, to kill her then and there, and he didn't. Revan prided himself on knowing everything, but this had gone on right under his nose. He didn't know, but he could've stopped her if-
"So this is why you want to overthrow her?" Sarmiento piped up.
"Yes, and also because she's going mad with power. If we let her continue to be President, it's only going to get worse."
"So what do you propose? It's obvious you have a plan," Omega said, taking his seat once again. Northcroft nodded in response, thinking for a moment before he spoke.
"I want to kill Snow with the help of the rebels."
The room fell quiet again, as each man realized the true weight of Northcroft's plan. It was risky, and just about all of it could go wrong - yet Revan still wanted to participate. He had to right his wrongs somehow. It was his fault that Omega's brother was in jail, his fault that almost the entirety of Two was dead. He didn't do anything to fix things then.
But he would not make the same mistake twice.
"That's why you want me to talk to my brother," Omega realized. Northcroft nodded in agreement again.
"You're related to rebels?" Sarmiento said, his head whipping around to look at Omega.
"Not just any rebel; his older brother is their leader," Northcroft said with a smile. "Which is more than a little convenient."
"Hey, kid, you alright?" Northcroft said, turning to look at Revan, who was still frozen in place. "You've been too quiet. Usually we can't get you to stop talking." Two more gazes followed Archimedes' words.
All eyes were on him. He couldn't tell them. No, Revan could never let them know, especially not Omega. He didn't like Revan enough already; this would be the last straw. He didn't normally give a fuck about these kinds of things - he could care less what people thought of him - but he'd let hundreds of thousands of Omega's people die. That was the kind of blood that he could never wash off no matter how hard he tried.
No, Snow had taken that away from him as he watched her sign the documents with the blood of District Two.
"Uh.. yeah, I'm fine," Revan managed to squeak out, for once in his life at a loss for words.
"You sure?" Sarmiento pressed.
"Yeah I'm fine, let's just get this shit over with," Revan snapped, giving everyone else a dirty look in the hopes that they'd stop asking him questions.
"So, will you three help me?" Northcroft asked, looking to the trio.
"If it'll get that tyrant out of office, I'm in," Omega replied, standing and shaking Northcroft's hand.
"I'll do it," Sarmiento replied, following Omega's steps.
"I've never liked you Capitolites much, so of course I'm in," Revan added, his voice shaky as he attempted to feign his usual confidence.
It would all be blood down the drain in the end. They could never know; Revan would make sure of it.
