District 9
Nolan de Naro had always been an impatient son of a bitch.
He had been impatient throughout much of his Games thirty-five years ago, especially when his pack of maurauders rivaling the Careers that year had started to get sloppy. It was only his leadership that had saved them all long enough to go toe-to-toe with those lapdogs in the biggest final battle the Hunger Games had ever seen.
But, Nolan thought, as he strolled up through town towards the plateau where Victors' Village overlooked the largest wheatfield in the district, at least he could thank the State that he hadn't been a tribute during the 29th, Ben's year – his mentor had needed to fashion an entire pelt from a wolf mutt just to pass the time during lulls in the action.
It was hard to reconcile that ruthless District 9 tribute with the aging gentleman Nolan observed now, through the window of the chocolatier's shop.
Ben Cooper was watching with mild fascination as Abram Mills – the formerly tubby guy who somehow won six years ago in the biggest Games upset ever – demonstrated how to ladle through a liquid vat of molasses, using an artist's hand and grace and going as slow as…. well, molasses. As Nolan watched, Ben laughed in delight at something Abram said, slinging an arm over the boy's shoulder and looking almost…. proud.
Starting to hum an old children's tune under his breath ("Who can make the sun rise? Sprinkle it with dew? …. The candy man can…"), Nolan quickly stopped, frowning as he took in the sight further.
The rumors had started almost immediately after the train had pulled from the district station, Nolan unexpectedly back in his mansion and staying home from mentoring for the first time in years. He remembered looking over at his briefcase, open and empty, Ben taking all his notes out of the thing as Nolan himself had been walking to board the train. Ben had come out of retirement to replace him in coaching Abram at the last minute. Once the Capitol media got wind of it, the whole city had been abuzz. Why would Ben take such a special interest in a boy who had pretty much no chance? – just look at Abram, he's rotund! Why would Ben come out of retirement to help cannon fodder like that?
The Capitol had quickly come up with something of a theory – an illegitimate child. A secret father and son pair. Reporters had descended like hawks on the wheatfields of Nine and tracked down Abram's mother. But when they saw no ring on her finger and asked who Abram's father was, Julie Mills had remained tight-lipped about everything. The speculation would end once Abram died.
Except Abram didn't die. After taking a poisonous snake bite and drinking the sponsor-sent vial of antidote in the nick of time, and only using a stone and slingshot as a weapon, Abram won the 69th Hunger Games. He had two kills to his name, and a paltry Training Score of 3, the lowest ever for an eventual Victor. Once the Crown was on his head, the possibility of it, the potential history-making, didn't die down. And from that day to this, people wondered whether Ben Cooper and Abram Mills were the first parent-child duo to both win the Hunger Games.
From Nolan's vantage point behind the grimy panes of this candy shop, it certainly looked that way. Right there! He saw it – Abram and Ben both tilted their heads exactly the same, while studying the drip, drip, drip of the liquid sweet. As a young man, Nolan remembered how Ben would come home to the Village, bearing gifts of candy boxes for him and Evelyn and Wheaton. Nolan had eaten the treats until he was nearly sick of the stuff, but back then had never stopped to wonder why Ben passed by the candy shop down the slope so often.
The back door to the shop opened, and Julie waltzed in. She was a sweet-faced woman, with wrikles only beginning to set into her face. She had been quite the looker, back in her day. If it was all true, she would have been an older mom when she had Abram.
Nolan watched Ben smile at her, and she laughed at the sight of the two guys acting all domestic. Making candy. At least it was of the kid-friendly variety. Nolan had a taste for the harder stuff himself, off and on. He was always careful not to inhale too much.
Mouth in a thin line, Nolan rapped on the window pane. The little might-be-a-family glanced up, and a beaming Abram waved him in. Past the tinkling of the bell, Nolan started deliberately whistling The Candy Man song again, because he knew how it got on Abram's nerves.
"Oh, bugger off, you! If that's all you came to say…." Abram threw a dish towel at his head and missed.
"You won't be saying that to the Peacekeepers when they come up this way, demanding why you boys missed Mandatory programming."
"That's tonight?" Ben frowned, the wrinkles in his own face creasing. "Must have slipped my mind," and he winked at Julie, who blushed.
Yup. If they didn't fuck over and over until a baby fell out, Nolan was President Goddamn Snow.
"That's what I'm here for – to remind you sorry losers when you're about to get thrown in the stocks. Evelyn's waiting on supper."
At this, Ben's face fell. "Brussel sprouts again?"
"Hey, I like them fried! Besides, they're good for you!" Abram piped up. Nolan knew there was a reason he was Evelyn's favorite, because at least Abram didn't complain about her nutrionally obsessive cooking. How ironic, considering this kid was probably weaned on heated peppermint or some shit, and yet now looked positively jacked. He sure was an enigma, this kid.
Abram tossed the dish towel away. Replaced the lid on the heating vat. "Keep it pre-heated, Mother. And don't forget to turn the TV on top of the hour! See you tomorrow." He pecked Julie on the cheek – a real Mama's boy through and through, and the three men strode out, prowling up the last of the plateau to reach the gates of the Victors' Village.
Evelyn – grandmotherly and fastidious – was waiting for them on her front porch. "Dinner is served, boys! Come and get it, while it's hot!"
The four Victors ate in silence, occasionally stealing glances at the empty fifth chair Evelyn still made a point of leaving out. Wheaton Vale, their pioneer and leader, had been dead for years, going out in the middle of a Capitol orgy which he had always loved so much. Classic Wheaton.
Abram helped Evelyn do the dishes, while Ben and Nolan attempted to work the remote for Evelyn's flatscreen.
"Which button is it again? The wiring in this thing sucks! I'm gonna call Beetee tomorrow and ask if he knows how to fix it…"
"Oh, for crying it out loud, give me that! It's this one!" Nolan jammed his thumb on a random button, and the TV sprung to life. Ben glanced down at the remote, impressed.
"Can we, like, mark this button for future reference….?"
"Shut up, old man – it's starting! EVELYN! TUBBO! GET IN HERE!" Nolan bellowed.
The other Victors joined them in the sitting room, Abram scowling over being called Tubbo, a nickname he hated. He'd hated it even when he was out of shape.
The scowl deepened even further when they learned what the Quell twist was going to be.
Evelyn had a strange, nervous grin on her face after Snow dismounted the podium. Like she was in denial. If Abram was pissed, Nolan was positively livid.
"Should have fucking seen it coming," he growled, clicking the TV off so violently, the remote nearly snapped in half in his hand. "Well," he huffed with displeasure, rising out of his chair. "I think we all know what happens now!"
"Nolan – please," Ben moaned tiredly, head in his palm.
Too late. Nolan just kept right on going. "Now we all get eaten! By mutts!"
Evelyn burst out into crazed laughter. "But who would eat a Victor? I'm just a lovable grandma!"
Nolan sneered at her delusion. "Cut it out, lady – congratulations. You just got an all-expenses-paid trip back to the arena. Compliments of Haymitch Abernathy's little brats! I hope those kiddies cut out your heart!"
Evelyn gasped and whimpered. Ben leapt out of his chair with unusual energy for a man his age. "Nolan, leave her alone!"
"Why should I coddle her? It's two of us going back, same as it will be for everyone else! All because a couple of crazy in love kids from Twelve decided to poke their thumbs in Snow's eye!"
"We don't know if that's the reason…" Ben tried to placate.
"Bullshit."
That's when the argument started, full-force.
"Nolan, we don't even know if Peeta will be going back with the Everdeen chick! It could be Haymitch, for all we know!"
Nolan let out a screaming, derisive laugh in Abram's direction. "A drunk? Paired up with a slut who couldn't resist spreading her legs? When pigs fly, boy!"
"There's no need to be vulgar! Or naïve! The last time a Quell happened, Haymitch WON! Mama remembers watching his Games when she was pregnant with me…"
"Bet ya just wanna run back to your Mama now, don't you, son? They'll wanna see if you can really handle the Cornucopia now, since you lost all the baby fat…" Abram's face was rapidly growing red, and Nolan instinctively knew it had less to do with that crack about his weight.
"Leave Mother out of this! I hope they send you in with Evelyn, ya turd!"
Nolan roared with rage and made a furious move towards the lad, but Ben held him back, wrestling the muscled man into the wall.
"ENOUGH!" The sitting room went quiet. Ben sighed heavily. "The Reaping isn't for another four months. I say we use that time productively. Which means, we all lay off the sweets…."
"You're one to talk, old man…"
"and start training, Nolan." Ben gave his former tribute a pointed look. Releasing the other man at last, he turned and put an arm over Evelyn's shoulder, who was beginning to weep, the reality of what was going to happen finally catching up to her.
"It'll be all right, old girl. We'll help you. Won't we, lads?"
Abram nodded his head vigorously. After a number of glares were sent his way, Nolan did too. Grudgingly.
On July 4th, it was his name that was called at the Reaping. Neither Ben nor Abram moved as Nolan prowled his way to stand next to the old lady, and he didn't fault either of them for it. Sending him back in was probably the wisest, strategic move – he wasn't too old, like Ben, or too young and in some ways still untested, like Abram.
The Careers would put forward their best men, Nolan knew. And so would Districts 10 and 11. Not as if those latter two had much choice, though.
Still, it would be an interesting mix going into these Games. And Nolan vowed he would come out once more on top and prove his loyalty to the Capitol.
