The Guardian Games: The Wrath of Five
Chapter 10: Day in the Life of Your Average District 13 Citizen
Previously on The Wrath of Five, super brief (and chronologically maybe jumbled):
In District 13:
Elsa now has a suit that can contain her powers.
Hiccup works in the Dragon Sanctuary.
Merida makes a deal with Calhoun to stop taking morphling.
Ralph is still in special forces.
Hiro is recovering from his fainting stint after giving Elsa her suit.
Elsewhere in the Panem:
In the Capitol, President Lotso wants to make a healing serum for himself. Eugene Fitzherbert/Flynn Rider is realizing that Rapunzel might be still alive.
District 5 has rebelled against the Capitol, with the Mayor leading them. The Mayor's wife, Elinor Dunbroch, has been quietly arrested from her home by peacekeepers.
In District 10, rebel Nicholas St. North has been killed by Capitol forces, as witnessed by Emma Overland who is now talking to toys. The outcome of his accomplice Bunnymund is still unknown.
In District 12, Anna and Kristoff have learn to decrypt messages from rebellion forces from Pabbie's belongings.
There are so many characters in this story.
And now…
District 13
Tamora Jean Calhoun was programmed to be the perfect soldier. 'Programmed' – because every fibre of her being was an intentionally designed by the Capitol.
At least, every fibre save the streak of rebellion.
As far as she knew, she had no parents. She was probably created in a tube, with a mixture of traits and qualities that the Capitol thought to be useful to their cause. Her memories of childhood consisted of exercise regimes, eating regimes and reciting oaths of loyalty to the Capitol. When she was of age, she entered the Peacekeeping Corp, to be an idealised example by which the lesser soldiers from District 2 would aspire to be follow. She was efficient and effective, following command after command without question and firing without a flinch. She was the perfect soldier.
Until she fell in love.
He was a scientist working in the Capitol Underground. According to Capitol protocol, she wasn't supposed to get married – or get into any kind of relationship, actually - but love could not be bound by protocol and she found herself to be secretly engaged.
Until he died. She was told that he was killed by rebellious forces.
If there was any kindness, goodness or mercy in her heart before, it evaporated in that moment. Never mind that she got promoted and didn't technically need to go into field anymore. She strapped the armor back on, a baton on her hip and an automatic in her hands. Battle was really where she shone anyway. In the chaos of bullets, blood and bones, she drowned out her own pain and wrecked revenge on the people who had caused the death of her beloved.
It was her near savage ferocity and her tireless vigilance that rocketed her to power. An assassin had managed to sneak into the Capitol, with the intentions to murder the President. She wasn't on duty – just there to check some administrative reports and get signatures – but her keen eyes had her launch herself on the assassin the minute he had reached for his weapon. Needless to say, she had neutralised the threat.
The President had rewarded her richly, of course. Her uniform was decorated with President's Crest – the highest honour any soldier of the Capitol could ever attain. Her fame spread like wildfire throughout the Capitol. Bureaucrats she had never met flocked around her in hopes of leeching off her influence. Generals and Commanders swarmed around her in hopes of recruiting her under their divisions. She had been personally invited to dine at the Presidential Palace seven times, and she was wealthier than she had ever imagined. Calhoun could have been given anything she wanted, but her programming never let her get spoiled by the attention and wealth. In the end, the very fibre of her being had one sole goal – to serve Panem, or die.
In order to serve this cause, one of the privileges that had been assigned to her was to interrogate the very assassin whose attempts she had foiled. The unkempt ruffian of non-existent dental hygiene however proved to be a difficult nut to crack. When she had ordered for him to lowered back into the dragon pits, he had called out to her, "Doctor Brad Scott."
She had halted the proceedings then, because her curiosity got the better of her. How did this surly, ill-bred hooligan know the name of her secret fiancée?
"I know a lot of things, Calhoun," the assassin had told her smugly, even as blood dripped from his forehead and infection consumed his limbs. "I know when the guards of the Palace change their shifts. I know why Lotso uses so many damned handkerchiefs. And -" his grin had widened in that moment "-I know why Doctor Brad Scott really had to die."
The price of sharing this information had been to help him escape, and Calhoun, loyalist to the core and faithful servant to Capitol, did it without a second thought. The assassin had kept his word and told her the answer. She didn't believe it right away, of course. She wasn't a fool. But investigation after investigation made it increasingly clear this new piece of information was accurate, making the seed of doubt bloom into detestation. No longer could Calhoun serve the Capitol valiantly and as fiercely as she had used - not after the lies that she had been fed.
Years later, the assassin contacted her, only this time he was no longer an assassin, but the President himself of a District that was not supposed to exist. He gave her an offer that she couldn't refuse – revenge.
Tamora Jean Calhoun had never looked back since.
"This is Calhoun to MiM."
She was sitting in an isolated, soundproofed office in the middle of the night. No one knew about the activities that she had engaged in at this time, and there was no reason that anyone ever should.
Liet. Calhoun went on speaking into the camera, though she heard no reply. She understood that wherever MiM was located, it would be difficult for him to be online on the communication link twenty-four-seven. Hence, in the last seven months that she had been sending him reports, she had always recorded it out before sending over and wait a few days before the leader of the Panem's internal rebellion answered, or sometimes, he didn't answer at all. It didn't matter to her. As long as she did her duty and followed orders, that was sufficient.
"You asked for a progress report of the Five children we extracted from the Games," Calhoun went on. In her hand, she held a set of files she had written down over the last few months. "So I've assessed them, spoken to them, and here's my evaluation." She flipped open the first file. "I suppose it would be best to get the mutant out of the way…"
District 13
Canteen
"This is free?"
"Not 'free'. Not really." It was a comical sight, watching the ginormous boy use the itty-bitty fork to pick up even more itty-bitty pea from the mash. But Elsa didn't
laugh, because she was horrifically polite that way. "Everyone in the district works - even people you'd think couldn't work have jobs here. You do your part, and you get rations and lodgings in return. Simple as that."
"That's fair, I suppose." Still a part of her was amazed. Since her parents passed away, food had never freely entered her hands. The mushy porridge and the soup weren't the most appetizing, perhaps, but it was better that the cold food that she had eaten throughout out her confinement.
It was Elsa's fifth day out in District Thirteen and there was still so much she had to learn. There were so many buildings to navigate and rules to follow. She had even gotten a schedule of her own, though it couldn't be printed on her hand like others. Instead, it was printed on the gauntlet part of her armour, where it could be washed off at the end of the day. Thank goodness that Hiro made the armour water-resistant.
Her insulated cabin had been repaired after she had all but destroyed it. The construction engineers in charge had politely warned her that they would not do this favour again due to the cost, and she best not go around breaking glass walls for the fun of it anymore.
'Fun of it'. As if there was any part of her powers that was fun.
At night, she still returned to the enclosure to peel off the armour, bathe and sleep. But by day, she was free to roam the district as long as her body was encased in their metal box. It wasn't the most comfortable, she had to admit, but it was a welcome exchange from the isolation of the enclosure.
But didn't meant that she was completely at ease in the District. Her gleaming armour stood out like a sore thumb in a place where everyone was clad in dark hues. People's heads would swerve her way when she walked passed and whispers would always follow her wherever she went.
Not that people were necessarily hostile. In fact, most were kind. The other boys who had escaped the Arena, Hiccup and Ralph, were nice enough to let her sit with them in meals and had patiently explained to her the many regulations of the District. The doctors that she visited were always ready to answer her questions. Her long-suffering psychologist, Dr. Joy, was very pleased with the progress that she was making socially and emotionally, attributing the improvement to the armour. Even folks that had tip-toed around her before were now more willing to draw near her, ask her about her powers.
That was all their interests were usually limited to, though. She wondered if any of them even knew her name.
After lunch, all of them parted ways according to their schedules, and hers was to attend a class on emergency drills. It was the most basic lesson that every new citizen of District 13 had to undergo, to err on the side of safety if nothing else. On her way there, however, she found herself waylaid by a sharp call, "Soldier Arendelle."
Elsa spun around to look for the voice, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the term of address. Yet, she realised that this was how everyone in the District was titled to unless they had another rank. She found a tall woman with a short blonde fringe in military garb beckoning her with the sharp jerk of her hand. Uncertain, she stepped towards her, asking, "Can I help you?"
"Lieutenant Calhoun," the woman introduced her shortly. "I was a spy for Thirteen in the Capitol and responsible for extracting five of you from the Games."
"Oh." Elsa's eyes widened at the startling explanation.
"Enough on the niceties, though." The Lieutenant drew her arms behind her back, the very image of efficiency. "I have a very serious matter this discuss with you." There was no option available in the statement, so when she directed her down the corridor, Elsa had no choice but go down it with the soldier by her side. As they went down the path, people around them immediately cleared the way – whether for herself or the Lieutenant, Elsa did not know. What she did know was that the soldier was a terrifying woman.
"Soldier Arendelle, though you had resided in isolation for your seven months here, you are aware of the situation of District 13, yes?" Lt. Calhoun got to the point.
Elsa nodded, though inwardly she was wondered if there was might be some knowledge of it that she didn't actually know.
Calhoun fortunately didn't take her word for it. "To break down the details-" the Lieutenant chose this time to crack her knuckles, making Elsa gulp at how loud the popping joints were "-we're not at war yet, but we expect to be soon. Since the chaos that 74th Games that you and your merry bunch stirred up, rebellion sentiments have been growing in Districts. District 13 is intending to ride on the momentum."
"Ride on it to do what?" Elsa couldn't help asking. She added at the last moment, "M'am?"
"To lead the rebellion, of course." There was a scoff in Calhoun's tone, as if she expected the girl infer it by herself. "We have better weaponry, military training and strategy than any of the rag-tag urchins in the Districts. If we don't lead, the Capitol would squash out the insurgents and the rebellion dies like a fruitcake smashed by an avalanche."
"Of course." Privately, the blonde girl grimaced at the term 'rag-tag urchins'. Perhaps that how people like her looked in the eyes of someone from the Capitol. But did people in District 13 see them that way too?
"The president and I have agreed-"
"The president?" In her mind appeared the dark, intimidating man that sat at the end of the Council table five days ago. Just a gaze alone from him could work up shiver after shiver from her – and she was immune too cold.
Calhoun scowled at the interruption, making the girl shrink back. Seeing that she was suitably cowed, the soldier then continued, tone sharper, "Yes, the president. He and I have agreed that the best way that the Rebellion needs to a unifying factor. An icon that everyone can behind. A voice for the people, from the people, against the Capitol."
Elsa took a moment to process this information, then said, "What do I have to do with this?"
"Do you remember the other four children who were saved with you?"
The girl nodded. "Well, there's Hiro, Ralph, the nice District Two boy and – um, another girl?" She looked to the soldier for assurance.
"More or less." Calhoun's manner turned to one that was more approving. "And what do you notice about all of them?"
"Well-" Elsa thought hard about the four children, running over their traits, behavior and appearance to try to find what the Lieutenant was looking for "-they're all…normal?"
"Precisely. They're normal, which means that they're useless. You, on the other hand-" Calhoun suddenly grabbed by her gauntlet-covered hand, making her gasp and involuntary step back, as if prepared to run "-you're a mutant."
The word itself was enough to make her heart still.
"You have extraordinary powers – dangerous powers, admitted. You're an anomaly that Capitol had never counted on. What's more, out of the five of you, what you've did during the Games had the greatest impact. I don't know if you remember what you did-" the soldier's voice lowered, even softening a little "-when the Ten boy died."
A white flash ran before her eyes; the cold snow pelting down around them; the pallor of his face as he begged her to put him out his misery; the sobs that echoed in her throat when his cannon fired.
"Back in the Capitol-" Calhoun was oblivious to the turmoil rolling in the younger woman's head, - "I discovered that that moment was the most watched scene in all Hunger Games history. Even in the Game Centre, everyone was stunned. No one could take their eyes off the screen. The tragic end of young love-" the woman snorted, but it was too steep in regret for it to be scornful "-that's a tale everyone remembers."
"Certainly." Despite her fear of the soldier, Elsa couldn't help the bitterness in her voice. To everyone else who watched the Games from the screen, it was just a tale. A tale that happened far, far away to a strange beautiful girl and a strange beautiful boy that would have the mothers in the District thanking the stars that neither were their child, and mothers in the Capitol would weep about how boring their lives were comparison.
These people hadn't been there. They hadn't felt the fear of death, the guilt of survival, the sickening twist of the stomach when one realised that the Capitol had won again. That's why people didn't know her name. They only knew 'the Snow Queen', the pale mysterious, power creature that belonged to that sad, tragic tale. She was just a player on the stage to them.
"The point is – you're memorable. You're inspirational, even." Calhoun stopped them along the walkway then. Elsa thought that they were to take a turn somewhere, or that the soldier had forgotten something and wanted to go back for it, but the soldier did nothing except stare at her. "You are exactly what we need as a unifying factor."
Elsa blinked. "Pardon?"
"You're the embodiment of the rebellion," the soldier went on, first time her words so fueled with passion. "You have rebelled, in fact. The Districts think you're dead, of course, but once you are revealed to be living, you'll be known as 'the rebel who lived'. You will be the people's hope."
"The people's hope?" the girl repeated, bewildered.
"We want you," Calhoun slowed down so that she would catch everything "-to be our Snow Queen. A Queen to call the Districts to battle and to strike fear into the hearts of Capitol."
"A symbol," Elsa said, the truth dawning on her.
"Yes." Calhoun nodded. "Now, I know that this is only your fifth day out – you want some time to stretch your legs. Fine. But consider this proposal seriously." She grabbed on Elsa's arm, shocking her. The girl thought of pulling away, but was too afraid to.
The soldier then leaned forward, her eyes scanning their surroundings furtively, before saying in a low voice, "Trust me when I say that I wouldn't push you towards it now if I had a choice. But the president has orders and he is not a patient man. Just ask Hamada." Drawing back, Calhoun then told her, "You have two days to consider it. I suggest you use it wisely."
And with that, Elsa was waved back to her schedule, but she couldn't really pay attention during the emergency drill class. Her mind was flooded with all the new information that had been dumped on her shoulders and she wasn't sure what exactly to make of it. To be a symbol? Her? Had the Lieutenant make a mistake?
But no, the Lieutenant was clear that it was the President who was really behind this request, and that this wasn't a proposal that she could decline willy-nilly.
As she lay in her bed that night after reflections, with her hair loosened from its braid and her armour sitting in a corner of the room, she tried logically to contemplate the pros and cons.
On one hand, she did owe District 13 for saving her from the Arena and giving her a safe haven. They were strict and rigid, but not cruel like the Peacekeepers had been. In her time here, she had never seen anyone malnourished or mistreated. There were rules, yes, and some rules were difficult to adhere too, but the punishments were reasonable. Yes, District 13 was a much better place to stay in than District 12. In that case, it wouldn't be a terrible idea that to help the District 13.
But another part of her was hesitant. Back home, she had always been studious in studying, even material from the Capitol. She doubted the Capitol was lying about how ruthlessly they had crushed the uprising when it first occurred. True, they had lied about District 13 being completely destroyed, but the fact was that District 13 had been devastated enough for them not to have taken any action since.
Therein lay the very crux of the issue – if there was a war, who would win it?
From the little that she had seen of District 13, Elsa knew that they were nowhere close to the Capitol in terms of technological and administrative advancement. They lacked the resources, the knowledge and the manpower win definitively over the Silver City, which was so ridiculously well-endowed that it had built itself on the top of a mountain range. If the Capitol could build such an elaborate and complex enclosure like the Arena, she didn't doubt that they had much more that could crush detractors.
If she became the symbol of the Rebellion, she would be calling people to suicide.
The next morning, she already knew her decision, but still, a part of her wanted a second opinion. She considered talking to her psychologist about it, but Dr. Joy was an expert on emotional wellbeing, not politics. The one she intended to speak to was no pundit in politics either, but after all that he had done for her, she couldn't help but think that his opinion would be important.
During lunch break, she ate the meal quickly before heading to the infirmary block of the District. When she entered, she found eyes latching to her the way flies latched to honey, and the clinking noise that her armour made whenever she moved her joints was not helping. Uncomfortably, Elsa shuffled her way through the hospital, trying not to notice the broken, yet hopeful stares that came here way. She stopped one of the nurses on the way to ask her for Hiro Hamada, and the nurse was so awestruck that she could barely stammer out the words. The blonde girl was hasty in escaping that nurse, just in case she was pushed to answer her questions, hear her story and become her symbol – become her call to war.
She did not want to be the Snow Queen.
In the last five days, she had been checking on Hiro. The boy had, after all, was responsible for changing her life in the District and she was eternally grateful for it. The least she could do, Elsa reckoned, was to show a little care and concern.
For most of those visits though, the patient had been unconscious. He had been exhausted, the curious nurse robot that accompanied him had told her. He had not been eating well and had been sleeping poorly, so after week of stress, his body had broken down and he had fainted.
"With adequate rest and nutrition, he should return his normal state," the robot called Baymax had told her, while patting a squishy hand against her metal-encased shoulder. "There, there. Do not worry."
When she went there today, she found the nurse-robot waddling around, awkwardly moving displaced chairs while faithfully watching over his charge. The young lad that lay reclined on the bed had circles around his eyes and his body was slumped back like a ragdoll. His head however did jerk in her direction when she entered his room, and he grinned at her.
"Hey," was the greeting Hiro had provided, while Baymax politely waved to her and bleeped a 'hello' in his usual cordial fashion.
"It's good to see that you're finally awake," Elsa said in turn, drawing herself next to his bed. She was genuinely glad, not just because she had advice to ask of him, but he had seemed really ill on the night that she had sped him over to the infirmary. It was a relief to see him gain back some colour in his cheeks.
"Yeah," Hiro drawled out sarcastically. "I'm sure the President wants me discharged ASAP so that I can return back to my work." The boy let out a long huff, blowing back the long black strands dancing over his head, before twisting his neck towards her. "Hey, you're wearing my armour."
The blonde girl smiled in confirmation, nodding at him. "Apparently, due to this, -" she held out her two covered hands towards him "-people trust me enough to let me wander around the District."
"That's good to know," Hiro told her sincerely, but his grin slipped off as quickly as it had appeared, his expression turning darker. "No doubt they've already want to put you at work."
Elsa sighed, any good feeling she had fading. "Yes, actually, they already have a job in mind."
"Well, what is it? Military? Weapons Tech? Artillery?" The boy sounded a little accusatory, almost savage. "Special Forces? Espionage?"
"Um, no." She was a little surprised by all of his suggestions. Elsa then went on to explain to him about what Calhoun had told her. On hindsight, it was possible that information was meant to be confidential, but the Lieutenant had not explicitly told her not to tell anyone either.
Once she was done, the boy went silent for a short while, before saying, "Well, that's not too awful, I guess."
"Not awful?" she repeated, astounded that that was his response. "But I'll-I'll be leading people to war. People will die, because-" she wrung her hands together, an act that would have produced a blizzard had she not been in the armour "-of me!"
"Elsa," Hiro told her gently, but firmly, "war is coming, whether you like it or not. You are right to say that District 13 would not win against the Capitol alone. But that's precisely why they need the Rebellion. Alone, District 13 doesn't stand a chance. But with the Districts of Panem-" he nodded at her vigorously "-that changes everything."
"But what if District 13 doesn't win?" she questioned him, panicked and fearful. "What if people end up dying for nothing?"
The boy with black-spikes for hair snorted, shaking his head weakly at her. "Elsa, do you remember the other children who were in the Arena with us?"
She had to admit that she didn't remember all of the names, but the faces, she did. They visited her sometimes at night, at strange hours that no doubt bore an ill omen. The cruel visages of the Careers would chase her through endless woods, where fire followed her feet and her powers engulfed everywhere in an icy sheen. Those who had been kinder to her were slaughtered before her eyes over and over, and she kept waking up to dry imaginary blood off her hands. Yes, she did remember.
"Well, if we don't destroy the Capitol, they would have died for nothing," Hiro spoke gravely. "In fact, if we don't stop the Capitol, every year, another twenty-four kids will again die for nothing. Do you honestly think you could live with on your conscience? I couldn't." He gritted his teeth together, full of a vindictiveness that she found odd coming from a lad like him. "As much as I hate Bludvist and his hard-as-nails administration, he's got a point. The war waits for no one." He then sighed heavily, resting his head back on the bed. "You should go. I really need to rest and recover so that I can, you know-" she could see him try to shrug, but gave up when it became too hard "-go back to work."
His words were now what stuck with her throughout the day. Through her duties to clean her fellow citizens' cabins and a class of basic weapon assembly, her thoughts were zoned the pivotal question that she would have to give an answer for tonight.
"You don't have to sit here, you know," the skinny District 2 boy told her as she set her tray down in front of him. It was dinner time, but the canteen did not seem as crowded as before. The big boy, Ralph, was not here to dine with them tonight, which she found puzzling. Her companion must have guessed what she was thinking of, because he then informed her, "Military drill tonight."
"Oh," she said as she climbed into the seat opposite him. When she glanced behind her involuntary, she noticed that most people were watching them, which wasn't all that remarkable, but their miens seemed to hold a measure of disapproval. That was rather unusual. "Why aren't you part of it?"
The District 2 boy – what was his name? Harry? It somehow escaped her – let out a snort. "More like they wouldn't trust me to hold a gun around them. Well, I wouldn't trust me either, to be honest." He pulled a face. "I really sucked at shooting back home. They had to tell my dad that either he took me home or he get me a new set of limbs. They were right, partly. My dad should promote them."
Oh. District 2. Peacekeepers. Now the disapproval made sense.
He must have been able to guess her thoughts again, for he said once more, "Again, you don't need to sit next to me."
Well, it wasn't as if she knew anyone else in this District. Trying to disperse the awkwardness, she rummaged her brain for a question. "So, what do you work as?"
"It's supposed to be confidential," he began while, but then he paused, assessing her briefly. He then drew himself up straight. "You know what? I think out of everyone here, you should know."
So he told her about his work, how District 13 had scores of muttations – specifically, dragons. The dragon-keeper in charge was a bright woman who also sat on the council. She was in charge of their care and Hiccup, for that was his odd name apparently, worked kind of like her apprentice.
"Prof. Vogstein told me that Hiro had consulted her while building your armour," Hiccup said as when they emptied their plates. "She knows a thing about beings with powers. If you ever do want to talk to her, I bet she'd be willing."
'Beings with powers'. Privately Elsa did not enjoy being saddled together with giant reptilian brutes, but she could tell that Hiccup hadn't meant it as an insult. If anything, from the way he talked about his dragons, he seemed as if he considered it a privilege. Perhaps having powers was a really privilege; a privilege that came with responsibilities.
She wasn't ready for these kind of responsibilities.
But the war waited for no one, not even the so famous Snow Queen. As she lay on her bed that night, she knew that she was expected to give her response soon.
She wished that there was someone else she could discuss this with. Not that Hiro's input hadn't been useful, or Hiccup's – but it would be nice to have someone older and wiser. Someone who could tell her was to do with all this power and responsibility that had been abruptly dropped into her lap. She wished her parents were still alive.
She wondered if Anna still was.
In all her days moping in the containment facility, she had never really allowed herself to think of District 12. Indeed, any experiences that she had there before seemed more like a distant dream in the face of The Hunger Games. However, tonight, a wave of memories washed over her. Bitter thoughts were forgotten in favour of brighter recollections. Involuntarily, a tear rolled down her cheek.
Though the guilty part of her felt that she was no longer deserving of returning there, the homesick part of her hoped that one day it would happen regardless. Elsa longed to see familiar faces and smell familiar smells, but most of all, she just wanted to know how Anna was. Did she hate her? Did she miss her? Questions such as these felt much more important to her than calls for war and political tussles.
And it was in that second that she had an epiphany – that moment of conviction as bright as the blazing sun and as clear as cut-crystal. She leapt off her bed to retrieve the frost-bitten exercise book, the very same filled with her sessions with Dr. Joy. She pried open the pages, breaking off the ice before picking up her pencil, beginning to write,
'My name is Elsa Arendelle. I am nineteen years old. I grew up in District 12. I was born with powers over ice and snow. When I was eighteen, my sister was reaped for the 74th Hunger Games, so I volunteered in her place. Thanks to District 13, I survived The Hunger Games and have since taken refuge in Thirteen. The people here want me to their 'Snow Queen' – their face of their war against the Capitol. Even though I know that I should do this, it would be foolish for me to embark on this project without any compensation. So, in return, these are the conditions that I will ask for in return for my service to the war:
Anna's safety. She is to be brought to District 13 at the earliest opportunity.
Refuge for District 12 citizens…
"Bludvist wasn't pleased with most of the conditions she had set. I understand his position." Calhoun sniffed as she flipped the page on her report. "A teenager making demands? Quite unheard of. Then again, they had managed to negotiate out the terms, primarily that of her sister."
"Now, -" she swapped the file for the next in the pile "-for Hamada, they gave him few more days to rest. He's been discharged but-" scrutinising her own scribbles "-is now being monitored twenty-four-seven by a nurse robot of some kind to ensure his continued physical fitness for work."
The lieutenant then went on the next file, perking up at the name on the label. "Well, next on the list should be interesting. Hiccup Haddock." Her lips curled up with derision as she read it. "I've actually met his father before – very severe man. Strict principles and fierce loyalty. Admirable qualities. Pity he's on the wrong side."
Calhoun let out a contemplative sigh as she lay the sheet down, folding her fingers together. "The boy, however, is quite different. Incredible non-confrontation, to the point that I wonder if he's hiding anything…"
District 13
Dragon Sanctuary
"And he's okay with-"
"Yes, yes." She waved away his worries, ushering him forward. "Go on."
Hiccup crept towards the reptile perched on the rock, lapping up the water rolling down to the artificial waterfall – or was it real? Valka had told him that the Dragon Sanctuary was a cavern that they had found underground. District 13 renovated parts of it to make it accessible for humans, and the dragons themselves adapted their environment to their needs. So was this waterfall original, incidental or deliberate? The boy didn't know.
But he wasn't concerned with this at the moment. For now, he was sneaking up on a Monstrous Nightmare – a dragon with devilish red scales and a nasty habit of lighting itself on fire. For that reason, it produced a very unique type of saliva that was incredibly flammable while protecting the reptile from burning itself. This was a property that Hiccup found fascinating, and apparently so did the Professor.
As the boy neared that beast, the creature suddenly stiffened up, twisting its large, thorn-ridden neck around so that its beady eyes could catch sight of him. He gave a nervous laugh, of course, because the last time he had an encounter with a Monstrous Nightmare, it was trying to burn his skin off. That had was certainly no walk in the park.
"Greetings, Mr. Monstrous Nightmare, sir," was opening line to charm this fearsome, magnificent reptile that was breathing smoke onto his skin – dragons are friends, dragons are friends, dragons are friends – and glaring down at him as if he were a bucket of shrimp. The boy gulped, glancing in alarm back at the watching woman. She only laughed, telling him to keep going.
Taking in a breath, Hiccup turned back to the creature. Maybe if he imagined that he was talking to Toothless, this would be a lot easier. Except, you know, Toothless and him had a whole history of almost killing each other, bonding over hatred for the Capitol and near-death experiences. He had just met this dragon today. How was he going to survive this when he had barely mastered human social skills?
Clearing his throat, Hiccup produced the slimy fish in his hand and held it out to the beast. "Lunch?"
The minute the dragon caught sight of the meal, Hiccup could have sworn that the creature leapt up in joy. Its fangs widening up before he snatched up the fish, making Hiccup yelp in surprise. The Monstrous Nightmare then swallowed the fish down, seeming to have enjoyed this little snack. When the red reptile turned to face Hiccup once again, its manner was a good deal more friendly, with its wings folded down slightly instead of being hunched out and spread as it usually was. It cocked its head questioningly at him, then jerked its head up towards Valka, who was still an amused spectator to the scene.
A gurgling sound came from the back of the creature's throat before it parted its jaw, and out flew a regurgitated half a fish, straight into Hiccup's open hands.
"Oh. Thanks." The boy's head dipped down to the gift that had been presented to him, dripping with goo and saliva. He removed the test tube from his belt, filling it up with the greenish gel, then set the test tube back on the holders of his belt.
His gaze then flitted to Valka, who beaming proudly in the background. He lifted the fish head so that she could see and she gave him a thumbs-up. Just as he was about to move away from the Monstrous Nightmare all together, she suddenly signalled him to stop. Puzzled, Hiccup watched as she gestured towards her own mouth and made a 'carrying' action. He then caught sight of the Monstrous Nightmare's expectant expression and glanced down at the raw, half-digested fish.
He groaned inwardly, muttering, "Seriously?"
Needless to say, he had a stomach ache for the rest of the day. Half-digested fish did that to you.
That said, the research findings were interesting. Hiccup wasn't as familiar with all the science terms, but he did understand from Valka, as she studied through the microscope, that the Monstrous Nightmare saliva contained a component of that allowed it to combust in a steady, controllable way, as compared to the explosive the saliva from Nadders and Night Furies. It was extremely flammable, yes, and when it burned, it could reach astoundingly high levels, but once all the saliva was burnt off, the fire died immediately.
"Aren't dragons just amazing, Hiccup?" Valka told him, as she always did, after teaching him a new fact, or introducing him to another dragon, or whenever they found something in research.
He would smile, partly because he agreed and partly because he found her amazement pretty infectious. "They really are."
He supposed that he was her protégé, in a way. From what he observed of her, she didn't spend very much time out of the Dragon Sanctuary, even taken her meals there and had an inflatable mattress that acted as her bed. She didn't interact with many people other than himself, walking and talking to dragons instead, for they were all the company that she needed. Both of them weren't the only people that actually worked in the humongous compound, but Hiccup could tell that she wasn't all that into human company.
"Don't trust those ones, especially that one with the goatee," she told him one day while they studied the spikes on a Nadder. She wasn't talking about the dragon, of course.
Hiccup followed the direction of her gaze, and saw the group workers moving through the office, with a muscular fellow with long hair and goatee doing the ordering around. He was probably their leader.
"Who is he?" the boy asked as he scratched the neck of the Nadder, making it coo and yap in glee.
"Eret Eretson." Her voice was dripping with contempt as she raised the measuring tape towards the Nadder's crown of spikes. The creature was familiar with the practice and dipped its head down, allowing the woman an easier time doing her work. "He's one of the president's lackeys. He and his boys come in every now to boss me around, make sure that 'I'm doing my job'." She huffed heavily as she wrote the measurements down on her hand, then handed the tape to him. "Here. Measure the rest of the lengths, and you can take the day off with Toothless."
Hiccup's face brightened at the thought, but it turned confused when he saw her grab her helmet and put it over her head. "Um, where're you going, Professor?"
"To clear out the vermin," was her short reply as she picked up her bone staff, disappearing into the misty backdrop of the cavern. He shrugged off the situation then. Though she was nice to him, Valka Vogstein was a formidable woman and he doubted that there was little she could accomplish.
He couldn't help admiring her. Not just the vastness of her knowledge on dragons, but on the amount of work that she took on herself, as well as the confidence radiated off her. She knew who she was and what she was good it. She didn't hesitate to do whatever needed to be done. She was proud and fierce as the dragons she befriended. Hiccup could only wish one day he would be like her.
Later on, he did go and see the Night Fury. Toothless was ecstatic to see him turn up, as always, and Hiccup mentally noted to see change himself out of his now-saliva soaked uniform, as always.
The dragon wasn't permitted to leave the premises and Hiccup wasn't allowed to stay over in the sanctuary (for security reasons, they said), so whatever time could spend together, they treasured. Valka permitted him full access to the labs and their machines. So within the first few days of his new work, Hiccup had crafted himself a new foot. Despite his previous assumptions, Toothless had not emerged from the Arena completely unscathed. His left tail fin, according to Valka, had been badly damaged during the teleportation landing, and as a result it had to be amputated. Looking back, Hiccup recalled that too during the Games, it had also been Toothless' left tail fin that had been injured, only to be repaired by Rapunzel's healing hair. To have an injury at exactly same spot could have been considered bad luck, or extremely serendipitous. Perhaps it was a sign from above that both himself and Toothless were destined to be partners.
"Ready to fly, bud?" he greeted the Night Fury when they met at Toothless' allocated resting pod. The large tongue slapping itself against his face was evidence enough of the beast's enthusiasm.
The polished metal contraption that acted as a foot slipped in between the hinges, locking perfectly together. The metallic fin attached to those hinges sprung open at the twitch of Hiccup's false ankle. Toothless, who had been watching the process with his large emerald eyes, gurgled in glee to that they could take flight once again. Without warning, the reptile bounded forward, and Hiccup had to hastily brace himself before his steed leapt off the platform and spread his wings.
The tail fin had been a labour of love – with the love coming from Hiccup's dedication to the project, and labour being Toothless' initial frustration to having himself harnessed. Considering how long it took for himself to get used to his prosthetic, Hiccup actually understood how the beast felt towards the curious weight that was now hooked to him. It was like having a leech glued to once self – itching, bruising and even depressing. But if Toothless was ever going to fly again, he needed a new tail fin, even if that tail fin had to controlled by manually.
'Manually', meaning by a skinny young man, who was thankfully pretty light.
Flying. There was nothing quite like it. The wind trapped in his hair, biting into his eyes, blasting past his cheeks – it was exhilarating. During the Games, flight had been marred with anxiety and panic, with looming threats left and right. But here, in the sanctuary, under Valka's protection, there was no fear. In a way, Valka was the queen to the small cavern of creatures, so he felt safe.
"Alpha," she had corrected him when he had mentioned this to her. "The King of a Nest is traditionally known as the Alpha. He's usually a dragon, of course."
He had paused when she had mentioned that. In all his time in Sanctuary, she had never told him that there was an indeed such thing as an alpha dragon, which he had once heard rumours about back in District 2. The dragon was theorised to be much larger than normal dragons, and more powerful too. He had never seen such a dragon in the sanctuary, so he asked Valka about it.
She sighed as she gazed down at him, and she said, "That's classified, my dear boy. I'm sorry."
That meant, "Probably, but I still can't tell you anyways."
He didn't dwell on the problem too long, deciding he had best enjoy whatever he could get.
But as much as he'd like to believe that the Sanctuary was a paradise, he was no fool.
One time after taking a flight around the Sanctuary, a harness buckle snapped, so the boy took his dragon back into the labs to get measurements and fix it. As rider and steed strode through the halls, with Hiccup babbling about how well Toothless did those turns and Toothless basking in the praise, their conversation was cut short when they heard Valka shout, "You have no right!"
"No, you are the one who has no right here, Professor," he heard a mocking voice taunt in return. Frowning, Hiccup shuffled towards the viewing deck of the lab, motioning at Toothless to keep quiet. The reptile silently followed his boy as they snuck closer to the deck, keeping themselves hidden behind the larger containers.
"In the last week, you had already moved ten of my dragons." Through the holes between the container, Hiccup watched as Valka stabbing her staff emphatically in the ground. The fellow in the soldier's uniform with tattoos – Eret, wasn't it? – didn't flinch under her scowl. "You're not going to take twenty of them this time without telling me where!"
"Professor Vogstein, your duty is to care and rear the beasts," came Eret Eretson's malicious answer, folding his arms as he did. "It's the military's duty to decide what to do with them."
"Do not speak of my dragons like that." Abruptly, she swung her staff towards taller man, striking him across the face and making him stumble back. Hiccup gasped when he observed the man reach for the gun strapped to his belt.
Fortunately, Valka had seen that too and pointed the curved end of her staff towards Eret, forcing him to freeze. "How dare you even think of attacking me?" she snarled at him, making even Hiccup stagger back in surprise. "Don't you know who I am?"
Eret Eretson moved his hand from his belt, but a scornful look twisted itself on his face instead. "Don't flatter yourself, Professor. You may be on the Council, but the President still has the last say. Sooner or later, those dragons will be taken." Knocking her staff away, he spun around and headed for the elevator.
Valka did not move from her spot, watching as the glass carriage carried the hateful man from the viewing deck of the sanctuary back to the Department of Defence. Then she sighed, leaning her staff against the console and sinking into a nearby chair, face buried in her hands.
Now seemed like a good time to emerge from his hiding spot, so Hiccup did, with Toothless following just a few feet behind. He climbed down the steps, approaching the woman who had become his mentor over the last few weeks. If she noticed his entrance, she did not say anything. He gently lowered a hand down to her shoulder and only then did she lift her head up from her hands.
"I hate people." The vehemence in her tone startled him, but he tried to hide quickly. "I hate politics and rebellions and wars and all this stupidity." Toothless let out a small whine, approaching her and blinking. Valka stroked his head, bitterness filling her words as she did. "Why can't people be more like dragons? Loyal, loving, peaceful unless provoked."
She then lifted her hand from the dragon, rising to her feet as she looked at Hiccup. Cupping his face her hand, she smiled. "I'm glad that you're here, Hiccup. You make it all worth it."
She departed without bidding him good evening or offering to join him for dinner, but he couldn't forget the gentle touch of her callous hand, wondering how a simple gesture like this could communicate such a depth of warmth.
"Vogstein has nothing but good things to say about him, of course, but her perception is skewed." Calhoun paused, resting her chin over her hands as she thought. "I'll continue to monitor him, in case of dissent. Otherwise, no cause for alarm."
The blonde soldier moved the file out of the way, her hands resting instead on the last two. She pressed her lips together.
"District 11 kid's adapting well. Very well. Hammer some discipline in his brain and he could be one of our strongest soldiers ever. As for the District 5 one – our scarlet spitfire…" she bit her lip. ", I've made the concessions you suggested. I've even taken to training her myself but-" she shook her head "-progress is inhibited…"
District 13
Training Barracks
She could do with some morphling right now. To sooth the bruise under her neck if nothing else.
"Pathetic, Dunbroch," her trainer spat at her. "You didn't even try."
She rubbed against the sore spot, eyes fastened onto her superior. Ever since this 'deal' thing she made with the Lieutenant, she'd been clean from morphling. It wasn't her own decision, of course, but they've spring surprise blood tests on her to make sure she wasn't on it. Not to mention, she barely seemed to be alone anymore. The great Lieutenant targeted her all the time in practice and Ralph never seemed to leave her side outside the barracks. She would have been grateful for all the trouble they went through for her if she wasn't feeling incredibly moody and nauseous. Withdrawal, Ralph had told her quite smugly. Withdrawal from morphling.
Withdrawal and Training. That seemed to be what described her life right now.
"To your feet, soldier," Calhoun demanded, slapping her leg with the offending pole and making the young redhead yelp. "We'll do this again."
Merida gritted her teeth together as she reached for her pole, punching it into the ground so as to push herself to her feet. Trying to steady her shaky feet, she lifted the training staff slightly.
Without warning, the blonde soldier went in for her legs. This time Merida paid attention, jumping out of the way. However, the Lieutenant swiftly changed the direction of her strike and the girl only avoided it by blocking it with her own staff. Thwack! Thwack! went the practice poles against each other, with the Calhoun's attacks relentless and Merida's parrying just seconds behind. Around them, other soldiers paused from their own sparring to watch the furious exchange. The younger and older woman danced across the rubbery mat, staffs clashing over and over.
But Merida's wits were not completely. At one point, she had raised her pole to block off the Lieutenant's incoming slash, her trainer had twisted her staff around and struck her in the abdomen instead. The girl staggered back and dropped her weapon, panting as she clutched onto the prodded site, only to find the end of her opponent's pole pointing at her chin.
"If this were a real fight," Calhoun sneered, "you'd be skewered like a kebab."
"If this were a real fight, no one would be fighting with poles," she shot back.
Calhoun lowered her staff, eyes narrowing on against the teen's defiant expression. She then spun to the onlookers. "What're you looking at, lug heads? Get back to practice or I'll give you something real to look at!"
The other soldier hurried returned back to their sparring, knowing better than to disobey an order from her. The Lieutenant, hands on hips and lips in a downward curl, swung back to Merida, long fringe barely hiding her burning eyes. Tapping the mat with the end of her pole, she ordered, "Fifty."
The girl groaned as she lowered herself to the ground, pressed her palms against the ground and began the push-ups, counting, "One. Two…"
The Lieutenant however spotted her mistake. "Stop. Start again."
Merida rolled her eyes, but obeyed restarted the count, gritting her teeth as she murmured, "One, m'am. Two, m'am. Three…"
The day couldn't end soon enough. In fact, by the time she left the barracks, it was eight in the evening. Above the ground, the sun would have already set. Most of her peers, who had been released earlier on, had already had their meals. She was quite alone when she sat back down herself along the long metal table. The food was not really that appetizing, but she was hungry, so she gobbled it all down.
"Hey, kid."
She didn't lift her head, drawling out boredly, "Hey, Mr. Special Forces."
Though she was looking at him, she could feel Ralph wince. "I wish you wouldn't call me that."
"Aren't you proud of getting in?" Merida asked him, a tinge of jealousy rising up her chest. She wasn't sure why she cared, honestly. It wasn't as if she desired his responsibilities. Just the recognition.
"Yeah, but-" the big boy squashed himself uneasily behind the table, "-you don't need to announce it all the time like you hate it."
She grunted as she scrapped up the last morsel with spoon, shoving it into her mouth.
Seeing that she was not going to initiate any conversation herself, Ralph cleared his throat and started on, "So, how's training?"
She gazed levelly at him.
"Bad?"
"Calhoun's a slave driver," the girl muttered harshly as she reached for the juice on the tray. It was orange in colour, but it didn't anything like orange juice. In fact, she wondered if it was even juice as the cook had claimed.
"She's not all that bad," Ralph defended mildly. "She means well."
"She called me a half-witted wombat and it would have been better if I were dead and my organs are donated to dying soldiers." Merida sniffed as she brushed her curls out of her eyes. "Except that my insides are already destroyed by morphling, so I should just bury myself in manure because at least my rotting corpse can be used for fertiliser."
"Oh. Um, listen." The boy, though at least twice her height, seemed rather uneasy in her presence. Perhaps he was scared of her. Of course, that would beg the question of why he hung around her so much. "You're supposed join us tomorrow for training – special forces training, I mean."
"I am?" she shot him a critical look.
"Calhoun told me."
She pushed the tray away from herself, scrunching her face up in bewilderment. "She know that I barely get by on physical training as it."
The boy shrugged. "I'm just supposed to inform you about it. It's intense at times, but you might like it." He cast a curious look at her, frowning. "You're not back on morphling, are you?"
"No. Don't suppose you have some on you?"
The next morning, a venue different from her usual was printed on her arm. She went to the Defense department and found herself going to a floor she had never been to before. When she stepped out of the elevator, the guards examined the schedule on her arm then pointed her to one of the doors down the corridor.
That door opened automatically for her and she stepped in to find herself in a shooting range. There were other cadets there, standing around and leaning against the barriers, chatting amongst themselves. She earned a couple of odd stares from them, given the differences of her uniform from their own, but she didn't say anything, moving straight to a corner. She crouched herself down and folded her arms over her knees, deliberately not looking at anyone. She didn't like how purposefully and eager they looked to train.
"Hey."
She jerked her head in the direction to the voice. It was Ralph, unsurprisingly. "What?"
"See you made it on time." He offered a big hand to her, which she took, and pulled back her feet.
It was just in time, for the Lieutenant had just marched into the shooting range, yellow hair still hanging over half her face and countenance twisted into her signature scowl. The special forces soldiers immediately straighten themselves and saluted at her. Ralph and Merida did so too, though the latter frowned when she did it.
Calhoun went straight to the point - no greetings, no niceties. "Alright, rookies. Listen up! I've only got three hours to finish this course, so you either get it now, or you're beaten on the field like piñata. Kohut, my gun." One of the trainees picked up one of the weapons from the rack and threw to her. She caught it deftly and held it up. It was a minigun, thicker than a leg and longer than her arm "On the field, this is the ultimate deal breaker. Use it right, it will kill for you. Use it wrong, it will kill you."
The trainees moved out of the way as she advanced towards a shooting booth. She swung the minigun over the barrier, flicked the safety off and without warning, hit the trigger. The barrage of bullets that came flying out took everyone by surprise and the trainees hurriedly covered their ears while they watched in morbid fascination as the Lieutenant turned the plastic target into splintered bits.
Finally, the shower ceased and Calhoun drew herself away from the booth. To the soldiers, she ordered, "Get your weapons and start practicing. I'll be vetting each of you separately."
The special forces cadets broke off from their groups, heading towards the racks to get their weapons. Others went to the shelves, retrieving earmuffs and googles. Merida didn't follow Ralph when he went off though, hoping that if she kept still in her corner, she wouldn't be noticed. In fact, she might even be able to sneak out if she was –
"Soldier Dunbroch!"
Nope. She sighed.
Merida marched up to the Lieutenant and saluted, expression screaming reluctance. Fortunately, the blonde woman didn't seem to notice, or at least, she pretended she not to. Calhoun beckoned to follow her, so she did, shoulders slumped and feet dragging.
Calhoun took her further down the range where the guns were thinner and light, where she eventually pulled off a long slender rifle. Holding it up to Merida, she asked, "Do you know what this?"
Merida shook her head. She hadn't exactly paid much attention in her weaponry classes, so she couldn't remember the different names of the firearms and their various uses.
"It's an AWN." The woman explained, running a loving hand down its body. "Bolt-action. Effective firing range of 1 200 yards."
The girl did as she was told as the Lieutenant lowered the weapon into her grip, showing her how to balance it in her two hands and where to put her fingers. It was quite heavy, but not too much for her to carry.
"You look through the scope-" Calhoun tapped on the round cylinder attached to the top of the rifle body "-and you aim. Go on." She jerked her chin towards the shooting booth.
Rifle pressed against her shoulder, she stepped uncertainly forward. Around her, she noted that other cadets were already practicing with their weapons, exploding into chaotic clamor. She regretted not putting on a set of ear muffs beforehand, but now with the rifle filling up both her hands and Calhoun watching her expectantly, that would have to wait.
Her knee hit the barrier and she stopped. Letting out a breath, she tried to relax her shoulders as she raised her eye to the scope. She had never held a rifle before, and it had been ages since she had shot anything.
A wave of fear suddenly came over as she held the weapon up. What if she missed? What happened if her gift of marksmanship had been lost?
"We don't have all day, Dunbroch," she heard Calhoun grumble.
Gritting her teeth, Merida pulled the trigger and felt a jerk in her hands as the bullet flew. Lowering the rifle from her gaze, she turned to the Lieutenant, "How did I do?"
The Lieutenant stared at her incredulously, then jabbed a thumb at the screen that indicated her results. "Were you even trying?"
She had missed the target completely. In fact, the computer couldn't even compute where her bullet's location
"For someone who's supposedly the best sharp shooter The Hunger Games has ever seen, your performance is outright miserable," was Calhoun's contemptuous comment.
Merida scowled when she mentioned the Games. The Lieutenant knew that it was sensitive topic, so why did she keep bringing it up? It made her wonder if years in the Capitol had made the woman a sadist.
Raising the rifle back up to her shoulder against, she took her time to think. She squinted through the scope, eye following the grid lines. She let out an exhale, steading her hands the best she could, thinking of nothing but the plastic target before her.
And she pulled the trigger.
And again.
And again.
Each time, she felt the bullet flying from barrel, felt the springs moving under her cheek, felt the pistons shifting through the chamber.
She didn't stop until she heard a 'click'. The cartridge was empty. When Merida removed the rifle from her shoulder, she didn't even need to look at her score to know how well she fared this round. Calhoun's expression said everything.
"9 perfect shots in succession," the Lieutenant murmured, folding her arms as she gazed at the screen. "I guess you do have it in you."
"I guess I do," the girl conceded. She felt a little dizzy as she rested the firearm against the barrier. It was heavy and her arms were getting tired. But there was something else rising up in her – relief? Confidence? Euphoria even?
"You'd have to move on to moving targets, of course," she heard Calhoun say. "On the field, the enemy isn't going to stand still for you."
"On the field?" For some reason, this idea surprised her. Maybe the safe confines of the shooting range made her forget the purpose of training in the first place.
"I intend to move you into the special forces. We could do with skills like yours."
Her heart rapped itself against her chest in alarm. No tests, no check-ups – a one-way ticket into the most converted military squad in District 13, with orders that came directly from the President. She wouldn't be squashed in some office doing administration, or scrubbing toilets like before. She would be back to doing what she was good at doing. Shooting things. Fighting. Being a warrior.
Being a hero.
But as her eyes fell on the black rifle leaning against her hands, she could only imagine such weapons in the hands of white soldiers, of faceless killers and heartless brutes. She could imagine seeing small heads in the distance through the scope, to imagine how easy it'd be to pull the trigger and to feel nothing when the figure crumpled up behind the lens.
Guns were for peacekeepers. For the Capitol.
She couldn't do this. She couldn't be like them.
"I don't want this." Merida all but threw the sniper rifle back into the Lieutenant's hands, making her near-unflappable superior widen her eyes in surprise. "I can't do this, I can't-" she didn't know how to explain herself. In fact, she didn't know if she even knew the reasons herself.
She spun away from the Lieutenant, striding past the training other cadets and ignoring Ralph's call at her. She disappeared out of the door and made her way as quickly as possible out of the Defense Department, crossing over the tunnels and the corridors to the geographical department. She keyed in the code, which she had learned from spying on Calhoun in the past, and took the elevator up to the surface level. The guards at the door were suspicious of her appearance, but the minute she mentioned the good Lieutenant's name, they were appeased, giving her the band as her tracking device before pulling the lever and hitting the buttons.
The doors were then opened up and she ran out into the forest, into the sunshine and the breeze. She soaked in all her surroundings, rolled her shoulders back and lifted her hands, trying to forget the weapon that she had just held in them.
"She's problematic and I honestly don't think she's worth the trouble," Calhoun sighed, rubbing her forehead. "We don't have time to be picking up the pieces of broken people. I know you've requested specially to have to turn the Dunbroch girl around, but if she's not going to budge, I can't wait for her."
Setting aside the last of her files, Calhoun paused briefly, before speaking into the microphone once again, "That's all I have to report, sir. I'll keep you in the loop for any developments. Viva la Panem."
And with that, she ended the message. Saving the file on the database, she sent it through the encrypted code, hoping that MiM would find it soon. Gathering up her files, she rose up from her seat and left the room.
The minute she stepped outside, she heard, "Lieutenant!"
Her head jerked immediately to the sound of her title and she saw it was none other the big District 11 boy. "Soldier Reckit."
"M'am, I've been looking everywhere for you." The big boy was hastily saluted her as the words tumbled from his mouth, "There's a situation down at the infirmary. They just brought in two refugees and one has a message. Kohut thinks you should be the one to hear it."
"A message?" Calhoun's brow shot up. While refugees arriving to District 13 was rarely a surprise, this was the first time she had heard of them having a message.
"He was carrying this." The big boy handed her a small token. Gazing down in her palm, she saw a black pin – made of coal, by how light it. It was a circle entwined with a crooked 'G' shape.
Her chest tightened and she ordered her subordinate. "Take me to him."
Both Lieutenant and Cadet sprinted to the infirmary, dashing straight through the main wards and heading to the ones that held single beds. As they dashed past one of the wards, Calhoun noted that that one ward was newly filled with a young girl reclined on a bed, unconscious and bleeding. Nurses fastened a mask over her scarred face and dressed her various wounds. Her heart rate was haywire, prompting the doctor in the room to yell out a new command and for the nurses to double their pace. The ward that Ralph Reckit led her to was adjacent to that ward, which held a young man instead. Hefty fellow with a tall build. Bruises and scratches decorated him like the other young woman, but most of his wounds had already been dressed and he did not seem to be in distress.
Physical distress, at least. He was yelling hysterically at the doctor, "Let me out!"
"Young man, please calm down-"
"I need to find her. I need to- I need-"
"Your companion is doing fine. The medical team is treating her now. Please, if you don't restrain yourself, you're-"
"No, no, you don't understand." The young man, who couldn't be older than twenty, now that Calhoun got a better look at him, shook his head vehemently. "They shot her down. The hover- the hover thing - they shot her-"
"Yes, yes, we're doing our best to fix that up. When she's better-"
"No, no, not her." The boy seemed like he was talking to himself now, making a motion to rip out the tubes attached to his elbow. "No, no, no – Anna. Anna. I need find-"
Unable to stand on the sidelines anymore, Calhoun marched over to the patient and struck him across the face. There was silence immediately. The doctor was furious, of course, and Soldier Reckit was stunned, but at least the babbling stopped.
"Get a grip on yourself," she told the blonde boy sitting on the bed, who slowly lifted his hand to touch his cheek. "Going crazy isn't going to help your friend."
The young man turned to face her, his brown eyes assessing her starched uniform and her stern expression. He swallowed.
"Reckit, Doctor, -" Calhoun thumbed at the door "-out."
The doctor was offended, opening his mouth in protest. But Ralph complied immediately, as much as he was burning with curiosity. Just as the doctor began to wag his finger, the cadet grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out too, shutting the door behind them both.
The Lieutenant, without lifting her glare from the young refugee, lifted up the coal pin that Ralph had handed to her. "You were carrying this."
The boy nodded contemplatively, as if wondering whether he could trust her.
"Where do you get it from?"
He hesitated, then said, "I made it."
"Why?"
"We wanted you to trust us." He gulped.
She raised her brow. "You … and this Anna person?"
He nodded. "To show that we support the rebellion."
Calhoun closed her fist over the pin, staring straight into his fearful eyes. "This isn't just a symbol of the rebellion."
"It isn't?" the boy sounded genuinely surprised, but she wasn't sure. He could be a spy, for all she knew. The Capitol's spies were excellent actors – she knew, because she had trained them before.
"No. It's a symbol of the Guardians." There was no recognition in his eyes. "The Big Four." Still nothing. "Under the Man-in-the-Moon?"
That was when his eyes lit up and his mouth feel open. "The Man-in-the-Moon?"
"So you know that title?"
"Yes." He nodded frantically. "Yes, yes, it's from the message we decrypted. From the radio. Pabbie's radio. The message that we needed to pass down." He started running his large fingers through his hair, desperation and anxiety radiating off his every inch. He seemed too uncomfortable and worried to be a spy. "The message-the message-oh, Anna-"
"What is it?" Calhoun barked, resisting the urge to grab him by the collar and shake him. The doctor had been displeased when she had slapped him and she supposed it wouldn't be wise to assault him any further in his state. "What's the message?"
He looked at her with large, haunted eyes. "The Man-in-the-Moon is dead."
S/N:
For the life of me, I still can't spell Calhoun. Keep adding an 'r'. Arrrgghhh!
Kohut's just one of soldiers from the 'Hero's Duty' game in Wreck-it-Ralph. Incredibly unimportant.
Eret, son of Eret, is from HTTYD2. I don't like this character much though he's technically redeemed. I do like Valka, though not because she's Hiccup mum – she's a terrible mum, no question. But she's interesting as a dragon vigilante lady.
Okay, the part about Toothless losing his tail fin again is quite abrupt, but, urgh, I'm not going to waste time making another arc about losing his tail fin again. That's already done in The Odds of Five
This was honestly a boring chapter. I think I look forward more to the next one.
Up Next: Stuff. Well, Kristoff needs to tell his part of story, doesn't he?
Answers for the AUs of stuff in the April Fool's Chapter:
Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl
Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back
Jurassic Park
Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark (This scene was very brief, so I don't blame you if you couldn't get it)
Cinderella
Iron Man
Twilight (haha, my favourite)
Divergent
Thanks for guessing people, and putting up with my nonsense.
A/N:
I haven't updated since forever. I'm sorry. It's just plot bunnies, school, real life, questioning purpose in life, and obsession with writing three other stories…
Yeah, that stuff. Hopefully the writer's block would die after this chapter because the next is supposed to be more interesting. Supposed to be…
I can't promise when the next chapter would be, but I too, like you, hope it's soon.
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