Welcome back! I hope you all had a love festive season and Happy New Year! I certainly did.
After a few intense chapters, I think we've earnt ourselves a little bit of a break, haven't you?
It's time we went back to check up on Luca and our mentors to see how they're coping with everything that happened at the Victor's party. Shots were certainly fired, and we've lost a couple of our prized mentors as well, so this will be the aftermath, the eye of the storm for PUTP until we're dropping right back into it.
Thank you to symphorophilia, BamItsTyler, Remus98, contemporarydancer2 and Alecxias who reviewed!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form. I only own the arena I have created.
Luca Fawkes, Twenty-Five, Head Gamemaker
"This is unacceptable."
My knuckles flash white as they tighten against the black leather of the chair in front of the President's desk. Every time I'm sat here, there's a feeling of foreboding, a sense of tension that fries my nerves and threatens my knees into shaking submission. I've never particularly enjoyed the President since that first fateful day as Head Gamemaker, and two years into my role, that still hasn't changed.
Coriolanus stares through my soul, freezing me from the inside out.
"What do you think of this, Mr Fawkes?"
"I'm horrified that such a shooting happened," I explain tensely. "But there was nothing I could do. I tried to save as many people as I could. I didn't even know that something like this could happen."
I mean, what could I have done, really? I was minding my own business at the party, and before I knew it, Finite was on the line and the bullets began to rain down. Probably the only good thing to come out of that night was knowing that I helped Lexi out of the reception before she too, got shot.
"I realise that," the President responds coolly. "But you're missing the point. Two mentors are dead. What explanation do we have to show the districts? What's the point in winning the Hunger Games if you're still endangered once you've won them?"
"It's unfortunate the two are gone, but we still have the others," I reason. "We need to protect them. They are the reason that people have hope, right? If we take that away, it will only make things worse."
Coriolanus nods along to my words.
"You are indeed correct, Mr Fawkes," he sighs. "How do we protect the prey when the predator is stalking?"
He bares his teeth slightly, a faint red staining them, although it's a mere second before the lips close again, hiding the glistening venom from the world. He's angry. He's not showing it, but I can tell; the cold that radiates from the man is one that cuts deep, right to the bone. Unknowingly, I shiver.
"We either catch the predator or hide the prey," I offer, following his analogy. "I'm unsure about how we do that right now, but it may be our best move before they're all returned to the Districts. What we do know is that it's almost definite that this person resides in the Capitol."
"You expect to narrow it down then?" he questions. It's almost an expectation.
"Of course," I reply. "Meanwhile, my Gamemakers and I will find a way to ensure that all mentors will be placed in suitable and secure accommodation."
"You will do this on your own," the President tells me. "I don't want anyone else involved in this. While you have an alibi for being at the party, you may become associated with the assailant should you handle this ineffectively."
"Why would I become an accomplice to a crime I haven't committed?" I wonder.
"People need a scapegoat, Mr Fawkes," President Snow answers. "Since you've offered to take up the mantle of protecting the mentors, then eyes may turn to you."
"Not necessarily," I reply, my gaze hardening.
It's not exactly my fault for the deaths that happened at that party. What could I really have done about it? It happened fast; too fast for some people to get out of the way. There was no way I could have saved any of the lives lost there. One minute, all was well, and then I get a call from Finite, who's calling the shots here. How can anyone defend the Capitol against this kind of enemy?
"This is also true," Coriolanus admits. "They may not, but there's always a chance. Regardless, I am leaving this to you. Get them to a place of safety and keep them there. I don't care how you do it, I just need this in motion. You've got two days."
"Yes, sir," I comment, rising. "I'll see that this is put in place right away."
President Snow nods, turning his chair away from mine and going silent. It's this cue that prompts me to leave him alone and return to the sanctity of the hallway outside. I let loose a breath, relaxing just a shade despite the inner voices in my mind that continue to nibble at the edges of my sanity. I don't get a breather though, because when I look up, I see that someone is waiting for me.
Standing there, arms crossed, is none other than Lady Lexi Escala.
"Miss Escala," I smile gently, my mask up in seconds. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Lexi's more casually dressed today, wearing an orange knee-length number, complete with jewelled rhinestones and patterned ostrich feathering. Her flat shoes are of the same shade and just as well put together, complete with thin citrine glasses, almost pointless in utility since she's clearly looking over them rather than through them. Her bright outfit compliments the blue of my suit, yet her attire somewhat seems so much more expensive than my own. Her outfit is bright, but her expression, however, is anything but. I can only guess that she's been loitering around here waiting for me ever since I walked into the office. Natalie's long made herself scarce, so I wouldn't be surprised if Lexi's been left unattended.
"Cut the crap, Luca," Lexi remarks. "You knew something about what happened, didn't you?"
She knows. Or does she? How would she know? She wouldn't. Yet, something compels me to give in.
"Not at all," I answer her tightly, but I jerk my head along the corridor, and she reluctantly follows me.
We make our way down the hall and into a small meeting room, where Lexi eyeballs me expectantly. It's a fairly empty room, most likely used for the President's guests, complete with a coffee machine, a few armchairs and a vivid blue carpet. As I close the door, Lexi's hand shifts to her side, almost reflexively.
Please tell me you didn't bring a gun in with you. I pray silently.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I inform her carefully. "I just needed somewhere a little more private."
"Okay, fair enough," Lexi relaxes. "So all that rubbish you were going on about last night; you knew about someone or something. Tell me."
"Finite," I admit to her. "But first, I need to know if I can trust you."
It's hard to trust anyone here in the Capitol because a lot of people are out for your position or aiming to ruin your status. In fact, the nature of Capitolites, as I've learned, is toxic. The Capitol is a ladder. Rung by rung, people aim to ascend as high as they can possibly reach; anything for more and more delicious power.
"Well, you kind of have to," Lexi points out. "I was there at the party, and I almost died, so I'm not the shooter. Judging by your face from your meeting with President Snow, you look like you're going to need help. Luckily for you, I used to live in District Six. This is professional, criminal shit. It's a mystery, one I'm happy to help solve."
Well, I guess that'll have to be good enough.
I take a deep breath, double-check the door, and tell her everything; Finite, the amount of money they want, the situation with my family, the danger the mentors are in. I'm not one to spread secrets or knowledge, but Lexi's just about the only person I can really confide in right now. Lexi's face goes from solemn to intrigued, to concerned, and then to thoughtful. Once I'm done, she finds herself a small armchair and sinks into it, processing my tale.
"Well, shit," she finally mutters. "This is definitely a conundrum."
I remain silent as she rubs her hands together in consideration.
"I'll help you," she decides. "But we're going to do this my way. Plus, you're going to have to do something for me."
"What's that?" I ask.
I'm willing to do a lot to get this Finite business sorted if I can, even if that means sacrifices. In response to my words, Lexi simply smiles cheekily.
"I'm glad you asked…"
Leila Caréton, Twenty, District Three, Victor of the 77th Hunger Games
If I could ask the world one thing, it would be to bring Nate back.
My eyes are red and swollen, tears clouding my vision despite hours of crying.
Nate's gone.
I'm sprawled over my bed on Three's floor, curled up in blankets.
It hurts. I'm all too familiar with the pain of loss, but I hate how much it aches. There's a constant emptiness that's settled in my gut, similar to when I lost Lou. It's those hours of wondering if it could have been me who died instead if it had been me who had taken the sniper's bullet to the heart. It certainly would be a lot less painful this way. Instead, I'm trapped in this numbing existence where I feel nothing but dread, emptiness and a complete loss of purpose. How am I supposed to go on without Nate?
I cared for him. A lot. Sure, we've found ourselves spending the night together once or twice, and perhaps there was always something more there, but we were happy as we were, knowing that living districts apart was just another reality that we'd inevitably have to go back to. Still curled up in his arms after another nightmare had always felt right; like it made sense; like it was natural.
Now, what was there is gone, a beating warmth replaced by blankets damp with tears and a blocked nose. That's just another obstacle in my way, my tears evidence of my inability to face the new day. How can I move on from this? How can I leave someone behind who helped me through everything after that first year as a victor?
"I am not weak," I mutter to myself. "I am not."
"No, you're not."
My head jerks up to see a clouded figure standing at the door. Hurriedly, I sit up, wiping my eyes and attempting to flatten down my tousled hair. Of course, I'd thought I'd have the luxury of being alone on the Three floor. Leaving my door open seemed like a brilliant way for me to dart into the kitchen for yet another bowl of something because shovelling food down my throat distracts me from the weight in my heart.
It's Royce from One, who's standing there, eyeing me with caution, as if I have become some kind of dangerous creature that he best not approach. I wouldn't blame him. It's rare I'm distraught enough to want to lash out, but with Nate gone and nobody to blame for it, my accusing eyes want someone, anyone, to be an outlet for my pain.
Instead, I mutter a response, words akin to the soft, "flimsy" woman I am, the victor with the one kill, the one without the heart to be cruel instead of kind. For what? Swapping murder for my humanity? To think I would become a monster for entertainment is beyond barbaric, and so, no, I never became one. That doesn't make me weak.
It never did.
"What?" I sniffle. "What are you doing here? You're on the wrong floor."
"Apparently so," Royce answers me. "But you're alone. You're crying. You're in pain. I figured you'd want someone else to be there for you. Y'know, someone who knows what losing someone close to you is like."
"Your Tiffany was nothing like my Nate," I say.
I'm trying to make it spiteful so that he'll just go away, but no, my voice doesn't have weight to it, even when it matters the most.
"She wasn't," Royce agrees, coming over to the foot of my bed and sitting down on it. "She was a trained Career, forced into the Games by her family and it ended up in her death. Do you know who killed her? The victor. Luke Coloss. He's the boy I have to stand and watch across the mentor's lounge. I can't hurt him. There were times when I wanted to, yes, but I can't do that anymore. He's just like we all were in the Games. Just another scared tribute, wanting to get back home to the people that they love."
I listen to his words as my tears begin to dry. My amber eyes watch him carefully, but all I can see in his face is pain. A pain that could possibly…mirror my own agony?
"I cared about Tiffany a lot," Royce continued. "We were going to have a child together when she went in. Roxanne, she wanted to call her. For Tiffany, I would have given anything to take her place and die right there. Because having her ripped away from me has hurt me more than I thought it ever could."
I'm silent, watching him. There's a resonance there, I can feel it. I know that he understands how I feel, and despite all of the sadness, the pain, the rage, the despair – he just makes a whole lot of sense. If it could have been me, then I would have stepped forward and saved Nate in a heartbeat. I too would have done a lot to save him, I know that. He's the closest I had to a best friend because in Three, nobody knows how to treat me. I'm the kind, sweet victor, and everyone gives me a wave or has a chat, but nobody's ever gotten closer to me than that. Especially not after Lou.
"How do I move on from this?" I ask Royce, clearing my throat. "Nate was everything I ever wanted in a best friend."
"I think he was more than that to you," Royce responds, a slight smile on his lips. "He was your confidante, your rock, your sun in the rain. You'll never truly move on, Leila. I can't promise you that and I'm sorry. But know this; while you'll always remember him, it will get easier over time. You will learn to live without him."
I fight another round of sobs that threaten to shake my shoulders, trying to stay strong.
"Don't hold it back," Royce tells me, shifting closer and opening his arms. "It's better to let it all out. I'm here if you need me, but I understand if you want to be left alone."
"Stay, please," I say, betraying my own wish to be alone. I need warmth. I need comfort. I need something and for now, Royce will be that thing. "W-Who looked after you when you lost Tiffany?"
Royce gives me a sad smile, and even though it's so clear and obvious that nobody was there for him, he avoids the question.
"That's a story for another time."
His promise is like broken glass, so brittle and broken, barely convincing. I bet that even he knows that I'm aware he was probably alone.
As I move over to him and rest my head on his shoulder, I let the sadness consume me once more, crying into him. It takes a moment, but he too begins to take shaky breaths, beginning to cry with me. I remember someone telling me that crying was a great way to heal. I hope it works.
Nate. Tiffany. Two lost souls, who left two broken ones behind.
All we can do is sit here and pick up the pieces.
Ah, that was a nice little break, right? Next chapter we're killing off more tributes! Nothing like taking a breather before we continue on our journey to the finale. I've got a few more plotlines to round off and complete before we get there, so get ready and get comfortable, because the next four chapters will be killing off eight of our tributes and taking us to the finale. I KNOW, IT'S INSANE, but we're getting there.
Luca's conversation with President Snow has yielded some interesting results. What do you think of it? Do you think Luca was right to trust Lexi with everything that's going on?
Leila's in tears, and understandably so. What do you think about her and Royce's shared pain?
Well there's more Capitol stuff to come, but for now, we'll take our time and enjoy the Hunger Games for a bit, why don't we?
Over and out!
~Mental