Chapter Twenty Two.
w w w. breaktheicehg. blogspot. c o m
Renour Malvigne
District Two, 18 Years Old
Victor of the 120th Hunger Games
"Mr. Malvigne?"
The door creaked as it opened slowly, and startled by the sound, Renour turned around to face a large male adorned in a Peacekeeper uniform. Renour's eyes flicked from the gun slung by the Peacekeeper's side to his shiny boots squeaking on the hardwood floors to the plastic shield that fogged from the man's warmth breath as he spoke.
Renour inspected the Peacekeeper more carefully. The face, the nose, the eyes. Why does he look so familiar?
"Good morning, sir."
"Who are you?"
"I've been assigned to you," the Officer replied. "As your private bodyguard."
Renour didn't focus so much on the Peacekeeper's words – he knew he would be assigned a bodyguard, especially after the assassination of the previous year's victor – and instead, focused on the man's voice. The man's appearance. Renour glimpsed at his name tag – J. Aurello.
"Aurello," Renour mumbled. Aurello. "Related to Georgia Aurello, huh?"
"Georgia is my sister, sir," Officer Aurello replied.
"Are you here to avenge her?" Renour joked. "Are you going to assassinate me, sir?"
Officer Aurello, visibly unamused, shook his head. "I was assigned to you, sir. All victors have a bodyguard."
"Assigned," Renour repeated. "How coincidental."
"Sir," Officer Aurello replied. "If it were up to me, I wouldn't have volunteered to protect the man who killed my sister."
"I wouldn't volunteer to be protected by the brother of a girl I killed, either."
Renour let out a hearty laugh. He looked Officer Aurello up and down, eying the rifle slung across his chest, his fingers pressed lightly on the trigger. He looked young, resembling the other doe-eyed Peacekeepers that were released probably a little too early from the academy. Renour pitied the poor boy; he was merely another pawn in Panem.
Renour noticed the bottle wrapped in cellophane in Officer Aurello's hand. Renour was more intrigued by the bottle than Officer Aurello's rifle. Officer Aurello placed the glass bottle down on the table, and Renour watched eagerly, itching to tear off the flower and notecard wrapped around the throat of it.
"What's that, sir?" Renour asked. Sir, he chuckled to himself. He hated how formal it sounded.
"A gift," Officer Aurello replied. "It arrived this morning."
Renour gripped the bottle, tore off the notecard, and glanced at the golden words on the front of it. At first, he sighed, but then his lips curled into a smirk and flashed it towards Officer Aurello.
"The Halston Spirits Co.," Renour whispered. Halston… as in, Cleo Halston?
Random, Renour thought, inspecting the bottle. Was it vodka? Whiskey? Cognac? Or was it something that Renour hasn't heard of before? He wouldn't put it past District One to come up with some overpriced concoction, slapping a fancy-sounding name that had too many syllables on a tag, marketing it as some age-defying elixir.
Renour tipped it side-to-side, watching the liquid slosh around in the bottle, and placed it back down on the table. Renour wasn't sure what the gesture meant – was it just a formality? Renour barely knew the girl – but he didn't dwell on it.
Renour grabbed two glasses and dropped two ice cubes in each. Renour poured the bitter alcohol in the glasses, sliding one down the table towards Officer Aurello. "Are you allowed to drink on the job?"
"No, sir."
"I won't tell anyone if you don't."
Officer Aurello chuckled. Renour speculated that if Georgia were a bit more relaxed, a bit more easy going like her brother, he would have found her more bearable. Renour figured it was Georgia's high strung and domineering persona that irked him so much.
"Cheers."
This one's to Cleo. He raised his glass in the air and then brought it to his lips, the chilled liquid rushing down the back of his throat. He winced at the drink's potency, the bitter taste lingering in his throat. Officer Aurello took a sip of it too, scrunching his nose as he swooshed the liquid around in his mouth. He shook his head and placed the glass down on the table.
"That's gross," Renour deadpanned, snickering. "Really, really gross."
Officer Aurello nodded and went in for another sip, and for a brief moment, Renour glanced back at the bottle, at Cleo's last name written on the card, and wrapped his fingers around his glass. The taste was putrid, but it reminded him of Cleo. Of the Hunger Games. Of the other tributes that he killed. Of all the tributes that died.
"Cheers," Renour mumbled, raising the glass again. "Cheers to them."
"Who's them, sir?"
Cleo. Beau and Denali. Kit and Aedan. Even Georgia.
To all the children who didn't deserve to die.
To all the children who deserved more than Panem.
To all the children Renour would fight for.
Author's Note:
Lmfaoooo hi? I didn't want to leave another SYOT unfinished, and while I don't consider this chapter as 'finishing' the story completely, this is what y'all are getting. I started Renour's epilogue back in July, and now, it is November, and that is simply embarrassing. I needed to do something with it. This was just a snippet of what I started and wanted to do the whole train rides, victor's interview, victor tour, etc., but that isn't happening. Now I can change this story to COMPLETE.
in my absence biden won... so that's fun? anyone else have any good news?