The Guardian Games: The Wrath of Five
Chapter 13
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I usually put a recap here, but I think … maybe just go read the previous chapters again. It'll make this one feel longer at least….
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District 13
There were drawn, hardened expressions on people's faces, grim yet purposeful.
They pushed past him in their urgency, jogging down the halls or studying their clipboards. Usually, he would have a couple of wary looks thrown his way, but it seemed that the 'suspected traitor' in their midst had been forgotten for today.
Hiccup was no fool. He knew that something big must have turned up. Sure, he was the last person anyone tell anything about, because he was … you know. But even if he didn't know what was going on, he was going to help the best he could.
According to the schedule on his arm, he was supposed to report to the bathroom of the Department of Chemistry for scrubbing duty. But urinal sanitation could wait. Instead, he headed to the Department of Defence. He couldn't technically go in, since he wasn't authorised to at this time. But the guards were presently as distracted as everyone else was today and didn't stop him from boarding the elevator.
At the Special Defence floor, everyone was moving in a muddled scramble too. Researchers were no longer in their labs and cubicles, but fluttering around, passing sheet to one another and yelling over one another. He made a beeline for the Muttations research section, which too was missing its usually guards. Going straight for the 15-DG door, he was just in time to see a group of uniformed men exiting the lab. One of them, he recognised, was the goatee guy from last time – Eret Eretson. Valka made it clear that he and his men were nothing if bad news. His intuition on coming here was well-founded.
"Well, well, what did we have here?" Oops. He had been spotted.
The brunette lad hastily searched for an exit, but the long, straight corridor he stood didn't provide many options.
So, very cleverly, Hiccup said, "Hey."
"You're Vogstein's little pet, aren't?" Eret's strange accent would have been interesting, if he wasn't doing his best to make himself sound disgustingly arrogant. "The kid that's always tagging behind her, with the black dragon." In some way, he reminded Hiccup of Snotlout back in District 2. Except that Snotlout had a history of subpar intelligence and he was from District 2. Eret Eretson…well, who knew.
Hiccup glanced up at the bars along the goateed man's uniform. Oh, Loki's silver-spit. The churlish man outranked him. Looks like he couldn't snide him. Too much. "Oh, er, Prof. Vogstein doesn't believe in the word 'pets'."
The taller man's snobbish expression turned befuddled. "Wait – what?"
"It's a derogatory term, you know? Implying that one person has power over another," Hiccup explained in as patient a voice he could. "So it's inaccurate to refer to me as her pet, because she doesn't believe in 'ownership' as much as 'relationship'." Seeing that that the confused expression still remained, he added. "Ownership focuses on one individual reaping the benefits, while relationship implies mutual advantages shared by both parties."
To one of the soldiers – lackeys, rather – that accompanied him, Eret hissed, "It's like I'm looking a clone of her."
"Thanks," came the unwanted chirp.
"I don't mean that as a compliment."
Hiccup shrugged. "I know, but we do have standards on stuff, it's understandable." After a pause. "Sir."
The bearded man seemed quite a loss what to do with him, so he just gestured for his men to follow and they hurried out of the corridor, eager to be gone.
If Hiccup had someone to fist-bump, he would have fist-bump them. But since he didn't, he would just fist-bump himself for now.
In a much better mood, the boy entered the elevator through 15-DG and hit the appropriate button. As his glass carriage was carried from the dock to the lab, he noted that the Dragon Sanctuary seemed quieter than usual. No frolicking reptiles rolling in the fields. No creatures darting through the air at breakneck speeds. No growls, no grunts, no burst of flames. It was as if someone had picked up the cavern, shaken out its inhabitants, then replaced it with none wiser.
Apparently, his strange imagination wasn't so far off the mark.
"The president has mobilised them."
Hiccup blinked. "Mobilised?"
Valka didn't seem to impressed the terminology either. Her face was drawn and grim. Her posture was stiff and tensed. She was donning the full garb of her dragon-armour, save the horned helmet that sat on the lab console.
In a voice riddled with bitterness, she explained, "District 13 is going to war, and it needs its weapons." Under her arm-guards, he could see her hands curling into fists. "'That's only purpose that dragons exist', after all."
War. Weapons. But what did dragons have to do with it? Hiccup's forehead creased, somewhere between puzzled and fearful. "What do you mean?"
The woman cocked her head towards him, gaze so intense that he stagger a few steps back. She sighed and unfolded her fingers. "Hiccup, you don't honestly think that a District in constant lack of resources would invest so much in muttations for purely altruistic reasons. Every dragon reared and cared for is also a dragon to be used."
He knew that. He had kind of inferred, from the uniformed men who came to 'inspect' the Sanctuary to the frustration that the Professor had muttered under her breath. But the reality had never really hit him until he had seen the Sanctuary today – so vast and so empty. "Then, what about - "
"Toothless is spared. For now," she assured, a half-formed smile inching on the side of her lip, but not from joy as much as wry amusement. "I managed to convince them that his injury would only be a hindrance for now. But it is expected for him to serve at some point, or they will demand him to be-" hesitation "-put down."
"Surely, they can't-" he was trying to wrap around the notion. For so long, in District 13, he had felt safe – they had been safe. Yet right now, he could feel the back of his throat closing up, his heart thudding so loud that it hurt his chest.
"They can, but Hiccup,-" a gentle hand rested on his shoulder. Her eyes were warm, assuring,"-don't worry. I'll make it exceeding difficult for them."
Her eyes darted around the lab. They were the only ones around the quiet facility as far as the boy could see. Valka then murmured to him, "Come. There's something I want to show you."
She lead him past the offices, the clinics, the discussion rooms. When they entered the storage area of the facility, the young lad was starting to wonder if she had forgotten that he was following her at all. But Valka apparently had some purpose in mind when she ushered him into a dark room full of boxes and sealed tins. She glanced outside furtively before shutting the door. His anxiety level might have spiked a tinge when she turned the lock.
"Err, Prof. V…?" he stammered while she shoved him down onto one of the boxes. "What is…"
"Wait." She then proceeded to scoot around the narrowed place, searching between boxes, squinting at tiles, eyeing the lights suspiciously.
Finally, she sat down across him on another sealed box.
He raised a brow.
With a very grave expression, the older woman told him, "Whatever I tell you here cannot never leave these walls, you understand."
No, not really. "O-kay?"
One her hands dug under her armour, reaching for something. Seconds later, she produced a curved item that he remembered was the same shade as the Stormcutter that she often rode. From beneath this scale, she removed a thin, flat square. Holding it up to his face, Valka said, "This is most dangerous object to exist in District 13."
He stared at the small, black object, then thought of the dozens of fire-breathing dragons that usually circled the enclosure with their varied and unpredictable abilities.
"I'm serious," she emphasised. "The only reason why it's in my hands and not the president's is because I actually understand how it works, and all the implications too."
Doubtfully, he asked, "So… how does it work?"
Pressing the square between her fingers, Hiccup was startled when a holoscreen was projected from it. A series of three-dimensional graphs appears between them, lighted in a bluish hue. There were a lot of numbers scattered everywhere, along with wave-diagrams, formulas and symbols he didn't understand.
"What is it?"
"It's called the Alpha matrix."
He…still didn't get it.
"It's a series of computerised formulas that can - if used correctly - control dragons."
His gaze flitted from the holo-projection to her. It suddenly hits him. "Like Alpha dragons."
"Yes." She pressed on the square and the projection dissipated. "There was a time that an actual Alpha dragon existed here in District 13 once – a majestic creature, water-bound. Instead of fire, it breathed ice." Her voice dripped with awe. "Its horns, its scales – every bit of it radiated regality. There was nothing quite like it."
"But-" her finger ran uneasy along the corners of the square "-the costs of maintaining him outweighed the benefits. Without my consent, the R&D department took my studies and converted his abilities into an algorithm." Was that sadness in her voice, or was it anger? Regardless, Hiccup fully supported her feelings.
Wishing to divert her attention from the pain, he asked, "How does it work?"
"It's too complicated for me to explain, but with sufficient study, I think you can work it out. I'm sorry I can't teach you myself."
Hiccup blinked. "Okay. But why-?
As before, Valka read his mind. "I don't trust anyone else with my dragons. With where I'm going now, anything could happen." She took his hand and pressed the black square in it. "Worse comes to worse, I want the dragons with someone I can trust."
"Don't say that," the boy found himself insisting with surprising vehemence. "Nothing's going to happen." Somehow, the idea that this kindly woman that had mentored him for these last few weeks vanishing from his life – it just, well, it felt too soon.
Valka didn't answer him, instead brushing back the brownish-red locks from his face. "You should get this trimmed, dear. It's going to get quite unruly."
It was an odd comment, with zero relevance to the topic at hand, but somehow, he didn't really mind it.
Quietly, she asked him, "You will look after them, won't you?"
Part of him was truly terrified by the notion of carrying such a responsibility, but another part of him felt excited, grateful even to have earned such trust. Swallowing, he closed his fingers over the tiny object. "Of course."
"Thank you." Unexpectedly, the brunette woman stepped forward and wrapped him in a tight, almost fearful embrace, pressing her lips against his forehead. Squashed against her armoured chest, Hiccup's mind told him he should draw back, draw some kind line of propriety or professionalism, but deep in the recesses within him, he couldn't help but feel that a gaping hole in his life had suddenly been filled. Returning the hug didn't feel strange at all – it felt right.
Just as abruptly, she let him go, embarrassed. "Um." Valka dropped her arms awkwardly, then lifted them and folded them over her chest. "Forgive me. That was-"
"It's okay," he interrupted. He meant it.
"Right. Right! Okay. So. Err." She glanced over shoulder, jabbing her thumb at the door. "We should get out of here."
When they headed back to the main lab, Valka retrieved her helmet and her staff. To him, she said, "For the period that I'm gone, they've placed one of the President's minions in charge. But I'm trusting you to actual day-to-day care. Are you up for it?"
He buried his doubts, granting her a lop-sided grin instead. "Don't worry, Prof. V., I got this."
She returned the smile, squeezing his shoulder fondly as she slipped the helmet on. At once, she was transformed into the fearsome, faceless dragon lady. He could almost imagine her out in the fields, like a primeval devil descending from the skies, raining vengeance and terror onto the Capitol.
As he watched her climb onto the back of her Stormcutter, he swatted back his growing fringe. Perhaps he should get that hair cat.
~~~0~~~
The great thing about being in places that you weren't supposed to be was that you heard things that you weren't supposed to hear - a skill that Merida was growing quite adept at that.
After all the males had cleared out of the shower, she emerged from the cubicle that she had been hiding at.
Oh, relax - she wasn't on morphling this time. No, she was actually reading some raunchy novel stolen from the horrid old lady who stayed in the compartment opposite hers. The novel was a product of the Capitol, and hence was quite illegal here in District 13, and naturally that meant Merida was going to read it even if she hated reading.
Of course, after what she had heard in the male bathroom, she had promptly loss her interest in the content of the paperback volume – not that there was much content as much as tedious descriptions of body parts – and set out on a hunt for someone who could confirm this piece of news.
She had found Ralph at the barracks, still looking uncomfortably large in his dark green uniform and dark boots. He was in conversation with another of his unit members, voices hushed and faces grim.
Usually such features would be sufficient to avert most attentions their way, but Merida was impervious, if not freakishly stubborn. She marched up to him, slapped her puny book against his brick-wall of a shoulder and hissed, "You're going to District 5 and you didn't tell me?"
"What? How did you-" the look he shot at turned from shocked to anxious. Glancing around, he led her away from the other soldiers to a quieter corner, whispering, "Who told you?"
"I have ways," was all the answer she provided, folding her arms in front of her and glaring at him.
"That information is classified. You're not supposed to be spreading it around." His eyes narrowed down to the book sandwiched between her thumb and fingers. "And … are you reading?"
"But it's my District," Merida snapped at him, ignoring the question even as she swiftly shifted the book behind her. "It's my home. If I had an opportunity to go to District 11, wouldn't you want me to tell you?"
The puzzlement on his face was genuine, and that puzzled her. "Why would I want to know?"
"Because it's a chance to go home. Your real home, not this-" the expression that she cast upon the grey concrete and the dull uniforms made it clear how she felt.
Ralph, however, didn't seem to agree.
"Look," Merida decided to change up the angle, "I want to go home, and you're going to my district. What makes you think that-"
"Kid, this isn't leisure trip." Checking for any potential eavesdroppers, he led her further down the part of the hall that was more isolated. Setting his jaw, she could tell he was contemplating what he was going to say. Finally – "District 5 has rebelled against the Capitol."
"That's great!"
"Er, well, yes. And no. Um, the things is-" Ralph scratched his head "-because of that, the Capitol has been sending in peacekeepers after peacekeepers, and your people have been hitting them as hard as they can now."
She nodded, sucking in all the information. She could imagine it, actually. Even before getting into the Games, there had been small outbreaks of anger against the Capitol in the District. Her people were a bold, honest lot that weren't too afraid to make their dislike of their uppity-master known, even in the face of punishment. She could imagine Old Macintosh and MacGuffin placing aside their years-long rivalry to partner up in various schemes, with loyal followers eager to play their part. She could imagine her father joining the fray – even leading it, perhaps. The only person she couldn't imagine doing anything was her mother. No, Mother probably would just hide in the house and disapprove of everything.
"It's not going to be the same as you remember it. Your home's a war zone now, Merida. It's dangerous."
"I don't care. I want to go home." The yearning within her was so strong that tears sprung up in her eyes. She blinked it away quickly though. "I just want to be with my family again. My people. You can understand that, can't you?"
Ralph said he did, but she could tell that he didn't. Not really. She had never asked too deeply about his past, but she knew that he wouldn't have adapted as well as he did to District 13 if he had anyone back home. Anyhow, it didn't really matter how Ralph felt – he didn't have any say. Special Forces or not, he was just a minion in the system. If she wanted something changed, she needed to get to someone on the top.
Finding Lt. Calhoun was quite a bit trickier, since the senior soldier had many duties across the district. But Merida hadn't anything else planned for today – or at least, she wasn't planning on following the schedule was printed on her forearm today – so she had plenty of time on her hands.
Finding the blonde woman, however, was the least of their problems.
"I don't know if you realise this, Soldier Dunbroch," Calhoun said, hostility carved in her every gesture, "but I am your superior. I don't have to listen to you."
She made a move to walk away, but the redhead set herself in her path, blocking it off. "Sir, I'm your best sniper," she argued. "I'm an asset!"
"When you dare to pick up the gun, I suppose."
"That's not the point – the point is you want me on the field."
"So that you'll freeze up? Blow the whole operation?" The Lieutenant made a crude sound, before sighing. "Listen, Dunbroch, you're only a few weeks into training, where others have been in months. You're still fat-" pinching the girl's shoulder roughly, making her squeal in annoyance "-where you should be muscle. You don't follow orders. You don't know how to work in a team. Face it – you're not ready." Pushing pass the girl, she continued on in the direction that she had been headed before.
"I can. I can do it!" Merida protested, swinging about to follow the blonde woman. "I can follow orders! Work in a team! Anything!"
"Considering your records over the last few months, Soldier, I have a hard time believing that."
"Put me to the test, then," the redheaded girl challenges the older woman. "Let me prove it to you."
Everything in Calhoun, from her posture to the arching of her brow, screamed 'No'. She was even prepared to turn around and walk away. But for some reason, she didn't. She stopped. She looked at the girl. Then, she said, "Friday morning. 8 o'clock sharp. A couple of senior recruits are undergoing their final test. You pass with them – you get to go with them."
Merida nodded without the slightest trace of hesitation.
Ralph, however, did not share her confidence.
"Don't mean to douse your mood, kid," he told her as they made their way to the barracks canteen, "but when's the last time you went for training?"
"Last week," she answered, nonchalantly squeezing her way past two corporals who were hurrying back up to the lockers.
"Turning up for the first five minutes then disappearing does not count as training."
Merida opened her mouth to give a retort, then paused. Shrugging her shoulders, she then said, "Okay, but it's not as if I don't know what to do. I mean, I've shooting and hunting since I was a kid. Running, jumping, all that physical stuff – it's more mind-over-matter, isn't it?"
The big boy cast her a dubious look. "I don't know if you've realised, but your body isn't what it used to be."
The girl gazed down at herself, then back up at him. "I'm pretty sure I'm through the puberty window already."
"No, no, I meant," Ralph sighed, dragging a hand down his face and muttering to himself. "Okay," he said in a voice louder than really necessary. "You've lost weight. Back in District 5, you were like the Mayor's daughter, right? You ate pretty good, and you trained your body alright. But since you got to District 13, well, the food's less than what you've used to. And as for your body, you haven't exactly done much to make it-"
"Okay, okay, I get your point." Merida let out a exasperated breath just as they turned into the canteen. It was emptier than usual, since many of the soldiers stationed here had been deployed. Her chest tightened as she imagined that one day, she might be one of those left behind here, along with the elderly and young, far away from the battlefront. Just the thought of that sent sparked stubborn determination through her. "Do you have any suggestions?"
"When did she say you have till?"
"Friday."
"That's three days."
"I know."
"That isn't much, unless…"
"Unless…"
"How much sleep are you willing to lose?"
The regulars in the special forces had access to many exclusive training facilities, and one of them was a simulation room. It's design reminded Merida of the training floor in the Game Centre, back before the Hunger Games, but much smaller and much less in it. Ralph apparently had been given access to it, simply because the trainers were sometimes too lazy to turn up and instructed the special force units to practice on their own. When she watched the screens light up to life and the holographic image light up, she couldn't help but feel a sense of uneasiness.
"Feels familiar, doesn't it?" Her large companion seemed to have read her mind. He pointed to control panel, which was almost exactly the same as that back in the Training Centre. "The people who made this apparently had been Capitol defectors involved in developing the-" he coughed, also, perhaps unwilling to name the nightmare that they had been subject too not long ago.
Merida just nodded and stepped into the box-like room. Swallowing down any trepidation and rolling her shoulders back, she said, "So, what have you got for me?"
Ralph didn't pull any punches. Since there's wasn't much that could be done about her stamina, they were working more on technique and skill.
"This doesn't look good, kid," he called to her after yet another humiliating defeat by her holo-form opponent.
Spluttering and heaving deep breaths, the scowling girl pushed herself from the ground. "I told you to lower the level first, then work our way up."
"I did!" the big fellow protested, spinning the interface around so that she could see. "It's only level 3."
"Oh."
Well, looks like he was pulling the punches after all.
But there was some things that came back faster. When the simulator permitted her a weapon of range, she was able to do away with most of attackers just by instinct alone. A shift of a shadow on her right made her swing her bow in that direction, stabbing the attacker in its head. The sound of gunfire made her roll behind a barrier, before firing up a projectile straight into the barrel of her foe's gun, exploding it. When they rolled up a holo-graphic hovercraft flying overhead, she found herself darting down the terrain in zig-zag without even thinking about it, taking cover in a forest, before landing a shot straight in the engine of the giant craft.
Only to be done in by a stab in the quiet.
"No one is going to sneak up behind me and stab me," she complained through a gritted teeth after that simulation session. "It's war zone! Everyone would be using firearms!"
"Precisely it's war zone! Like Calhoun used to say – in the dog pit, even Chihuahuas become Rottweilers."
The redheaded girl stared up at him. "I have no idea what that means."
"Neither do I."
They couldn't avoid their day duties – at least, Ralph couldn't, if he didn't want to get disciplined by his squad leader. Merida could, in the way that she could avoid most of her responsibilities, but she didn't want to, even though her aching muscles told her otherwise. What the Lieutenant had told her struck her more than she would admit, so she decided that for now, it would be worthy at least to prove that she could do her assignments like any good soldier could.
That said, with the District clearly gearing up for war, that meant that the chores of the day were especially heavy. Two hours into night number two, Ralph had dozed off by the console. The girl had considered waking him, but reckoned that she might as well set the programme automated instead. He wasn't the one being put to the test.
By day three, some of her muscles sores had been reduced to slight numbness and she felt both horribly exhausted and excellently energised simultaneously. It was clear that while her old stamina and strength wouldn't return anytime soon, her instincts and skills were still very much intact. The practice sessions had helped in revising them, and she was confident that she could merit a pass. Probably.
When the day of the test came, her confidence had pretty much melted away, and she was plucking at the fingerless gloves that they had given them. It was her first time in full on field-gear, and it was heavier than she had anticipated. Strapped to her body were a dozen items that Ralph had explained to her before, but she had forgotten it all. Part of her longed for a smidgen of morphling – just to straighten out the nerves, you know.
"You okay, kid?" The big boy was apparently risking a tardy just to check on her today.
She made it to toss her curls back, only to realise that they were all tied back up. Awkwardly, she pretended to stretching her neck instead. "Yep, totally."
"…You're not okay then."
"Not in the slightest."
Candidates were assigned into squads, most of whom already knew each other. Merida, of course, didn't have that advantage, thanks to her 'anti-social' tendencies. It probably didn't help that she made no effort to explain away the suspicious stares, nor did she attempt to inquire after who they were. After all, they were the competition.
Each squad was sent into the testing field one at a time, of which the terrain, skills and tactics tested had been kept as a surprise. Before it was her squad's turn, they had a short briefing from Calhoun. Because it was from Calhoun, the briefing served had little other purpose than to instil fear and dread.
"Listen up, ladies," she snapped at them, and at once every one of them, including Merida, straightened up. "I'm saying this once, and only once, so you better get this drilled in your thick skulls." She pointed at a vague map behind her. "In this course, the team objective is scale the central tower and capture the flag there within ten minutes. Your path will be littered with booby traps and you will openly assaulted with various forces of utter destruction. Some instructors would tell you that your training is sufficient, but I'm calling the bullcrap. Nothing-" her thick brows raised dramatically, volume on crescendo "-nothing can prepare you for out there. Punch some bullets, watch your six and get ready to die." As an afterthought – "when appropriate."
That was fabulously encouraging.
Clutching her M26 – or was it 24? She couldn't really keep up with all these number – close to her chest, Merida braced herself while the Lieutenant worked the controls. The massive metal door before them drew itself up, only to reveal a small, empty dark room. She followed the other recruits into it at the Lieutenant's direction, staring doubtfully around. As far as she could see, there was nothing threatening here.
That was, till she realised that one of the walls was in fact another large metal door.
The door behind them rumbled down with menacing creaking, leaving them in the ominous darkness of the waiting chamber. Trembling despite herself, the redhead gripped her weapon tightly whilst bracing herself.
The bulb hanging over the door abruptly lit up, basking the uniformed candidates in red. A siren blared overhead, causing each one to tense up in attention. The doors drew open, and Merida's vision was bathed in luminous green.
There weren't sufficient words to describe it, possibly because such an experience was itself difficult to comprehend. None of her experiences from the forest could ever prepare her for the chaos that was flying bugs.
They weren't even normal bugs – oh, no. They were humongous, with their entire bodies almost as the length of her height, their emerald eyes as glittering erratically like screens and their jaws murderously large. Droves and droves them swarmed around the giant chamber that was their examination hall, filling its vastness with
As she stood jaw-dropped, the rest of the squad had already made a move, guns ablaze and screaming curses.
"Don't just stand there!" one recruit bellowed at her. She blinked at him whilst he pointed at what resembled a tower of sorts far in the distance. "Fulfill the object-"
A giant bug then swooped down and carried him off.
Merida decided that perhaps following his suggestion might be useful.
She stayed close to her squadron mates as they dove into the hurricane of invertebrates, firing at anything that came within ten feet of them. Of course, her weapon wasn't exactly calibrated for short-range combat and after missing five out of five shots, the barrel of her sniper rifle was swiped from her grip.
The huge fly-like muttation responsible showed no response as it chomped up the weapon, swallowing down immediately after. It's six pixelated eyes started glittering erratically. Out from its unnaturally silvery-green body emerged to two giant guns, sharing the same luminous thick hide as the mutt's exoskeleton and with barrels as large as her face.
Merida barely managed to duck in time. Far away, a crude rock-like structure collapsed.
But ducking wasn't enough. The bug, with its indeterminate number of wings and seemingly infinite amount of ammo, starting raining cannon-ball-sized projectiles over and over. Knowing full well her odds of survival, the girl ran for her life.
Her other squad mates were not doing too well either, about half being chased by one or more of the cybernetic creatures, and the other half trying to form a defensive line along the platform. "Move towards the tower!" she heard one guy in the centre shout to the others. Before he could catch a breath however, the bug he was battling spat a bright green liquid over his face, rendering him sightless and screaming. To everyone's horror, the bug promptly swallowed him alive.
He wasn't dead. He couldn't really be. This was just a test. Yet, even from her cover spot behind the debris, Merida couldn't shake the sense of déjà vu creeping onto her.
This wasn't real. This wasn't real. This wasn't real.
She heard a shot going off behind her and spun around just in time to see another muttation tearing what seemed to be another soldier apart.
There was fire. And smoke. And the thunderous roar of elements far beyond anything that nature would call its own. Behind it all, dozens of eyes watching through hidden lens.
"Hey, you there. You okay?"
There's a person next to her. Donned up in a similar uniform and armour. He looked just a few years older than her. There was an underlying fear in his kindness, but somehow her mind just never processed it.
"Take this." He handed her the small pistol he had on his belt. "It's not much, but it's better than nothing."
Numbly, she accepted the offering, twisting it in her hand for a moment. A gun. An actual gun.
Don't trust anyone. Get in, get out. Be the Victor. Go home. That's all.
"Come on." He waved to her. "We should join the line with the others." He headed out first, keeping his body low whilst firing rapidly at their foes.
Merida didn't follow, just staring into his back.
It was an almost out of body experience, really, when she switched off the safety and fired into the retreating back of her kindly comrade.
~~~0~~~
They locked the suit on her.
Apparently that was another its function that she had not been made privy to. Besides the one that could apparently incapacitate her at will.
That meant that she couldn't bathe, couldn't have a change of clothes, couldn't scratch the itch on her left outer thigh. Well, not properly. She had been rubbing on the armour over it the last two hours, which didn't quite provide the relief she needed. She could still pee, thankfully, but with all the armour on and her own bathroom swopped for a bucket, it was quite a bothersome task.
Oh yes, Elsa was in a prison cell.
They didn't return her to her room, the sealed enclosure that could contain her powers without destroying the whole district, because she could still leave it as and when she liked. After the little display that she have given, they were probably afraid that she might run off and do something that might ruin their agenda. She had the capacity to do so, after all.
Some Snow Queen, they must be thinking to themselves.
But Anna's safety had always been the priority. Elsa had made that pretty clear from the start. Perhaps Lieutenant Calhoun had never planned on keeping her word.
Speaking of betrayal, why had Hiro installed such functions into her suit? He always told her that he just wanted to help, and she believed him, because he had always been nice to her and, well, shared experiences of the Games and everything. So had he been lying to her all along? Or had someone set him up to it? She didn't know which was better, because both had rather disturbing implications.
She resumed the useless scratching along her leg while glancing at the clock hanging above the warden's office. It's been two days now, and she was getting very cranky.
Admittedly, she had been worried when they first tossed her in. She had expected the Lieutenant to come in any second to give her a good ripping-down, before dragging her for a trial before the ruling council and its intimidating leader. But after a sleepless twenty-four hours, she had concluded that in light of the urgency that seemed to have taken the District, she was no longer a priority. Maybe Calhoun's never intended to rescue Anna simply because the Snow Queen herself wasn't really all that important. Why meet the demands of a silly teenager that has really contributed anything? Elsa understood practicality – she had been its practitioner once before – but how the truth stung.
And Anna – poor, poor Anna would be pay it.
Elsa never had as much loathing for herself as she did right at this moment.
She startled out of her brooding by marching feet and harsh speech. From her cell, she noted the warden had emerged from his office to greet the newcomers, who with them had a handcuffed captive. The fountain of bronze curls was impossible to miss, even when tied back, but her eyes seemed to lack its normal sharpness, appearing glossy and a little dazed.
"Just keep her here a day or two till one of the docs can see her, you know? Least that's what the Lieutenant said," was what the guard told the warden. Elsa's interested piqued at the mention of the Lieutenant. "Right now with all the chaos up there, they've got everyone in the infirmary on standby for emergencies only."
She settled her gaze then on the redheaded teenager, oddly silent throughout the whole process.
The girl from District 5 didn't let out so much as a grunt when the warden opened one of the cell doors for her and she was guided firmly within. Only then were her cuffs removed, and the warden and the guards made their way down the corridor, shooting a few curious glances Elsa's way as they did.
When they had disappeared down the corridor, the redheaded girl's abruptly lifted her head towards Elsa, staring her dead in the eye. "What'cha looking at?"
The blonde hastily averted her gaze. She might be half a head taller, and also complete with the forces of ice and snow at her command, but there was still something menacing about the wild girl from District 5.
They sat the rest of night in silence.
~~~0~~~
District 2
She wasn't officially in service, but didn't mean that she was completely oblivious to what was going on around her.
Drafting was at an all-time high, and that was a strange thing in itself. Normally, there would be more than enough citizens scrambling for positions at Peacekeeping Corp. Sure, most of the stations took them away from home, but it was a decent living and it was always a privilege to serve the Capitol. But there hasn't been a draft in the last fifty years – at least, that's what Astrid heard from the gossiping oldies hanging out at the Great Hall. Enlistment, then, was not quite providing the numbers needed. Nothing was being said, not aloud, but it seemed that the 'situations' in the other districts were more dire than expected.
Stoick was gone, too. Two weeks ago, he had apparently been summoned away by his betters. Where to, he was not permitted to say, which had told her far more than it should have.
"Is it District 5?" Astrid had asked.
She couldn't help it – she was genuinely surprised. Yes, the district had been simmering with tension when she had visited it, but that was a few months ago. The ring leaders of any unrest should have been dealt with by now, and the people, even discontented ones, would scuttle back to doing what they always did. But if that was so, why hadn't her friends, freshly-recruited and insufficiently trained, returned to District 2 yet? What was keeping them out there?
The Mayor had answered, "I'm afraid it's all confidential, my dear," and had clapped her firmly on the shoulder. "Perhaps if you could join me in my work, I would be able discuss more of it with you."
Astrid had never thought of doing anything in politics before, simply because, well, she was a 'axe-swinging, gun-slinging' sort of girl. She detested the idea of sitting behind desks and talking to people for hours onto end, or anymore of those long, horrible parties at the capital with manicured hands and poofy dresses.
Yet, she found herself considering the idea even as she lay herself down to sleep that night. Her original intentions had been to be enlist as soon as her sixteenth birthday passed, but if she did, she would start at the bottom as a private, just like everyone else. She would have to follow orders without question – a task that would have been fine a year ago, but somehow was no longer as appetising. Just notion of being kept in the dark made her throat constrict, and she had to sit up right then and there, forcing herself to take slow, measured breaths.
As much as her upbringing had trained her too, the blonde girl could no longer stomach being in such a powerless position.
After he returned, perhaps she could ask Stoick for attachment opportunities, if such were possible. Maybe he could get her involved in his work - whatever it entailed. It would be boring, probably, but at least she might be able to make a difference. At least, she would have some control over something.
It was early in the afternoon when she received visitors to her very large, very empty home. The lead of this group was a Peacekeeper, but from his accent and strangely-curly beard, he was Capitol-bred. Recognising this disturbed Astrid more than could she say. She couldn't quite place why.
"I've come to deliver a message," he said without even waiting for her to finish her greeting. "You are hereby summoned to the Capitol. We are to leave at once."
That certainly wasn't she was expecting. "What?"
The immaculately curled brows of the officers knitted themselves together. "You have been summoned to the Capitol and you are to go immediately. Is there an issue with that?" There was a chilly edge to his tone.
Gulping down her shock, Astrid hastily replied, "No, no, of course not." In her mind, her thoughts had flew up, about and everywhere. Summoned to Capitol? But whatever for? Her victory tour was done. It wasn't another two months till the next Hunger Games, and even then, with all the experienced Victors in District 2, it was unlikely that she would be called to take on mentor duties. Why then was she called, and why now?
"Excellent." He removed the pocket watch kept in breast pocket, examining it. "I suggest then that we leave at once."
The girl fumbled for something, anything to delay the unexpected road trip. "Well, I do need some time to pack, so-"
"Unnecessary," the Peacekeeper's clipped tone interjected. "All that you need for the journey has been accounted for."
"Oh." Privately, she cursed. Part of her considered whether she should feign illness, but the Peacekeeper would probably tell her that they would have her Capitol doctor attend to her on the train instead.
They escorted her down to the train station in a Humvee, the very same that being driven by her peers and neighbours as part of their service the military. She had ridden them many times, the first being back in elementary classes, as part of learning about the importance of the Peacekeeping Corps. But then, she had been surrounded by classmates, cheerful teachers and enthusiastic corporals who explained to them how to load the guns and which buttons let the Humvee drive through water.
Now, she was pretty sure that every Peacekeeper behind the white masks wasn't anyone she knew, and probably not even from District 2. They didn't so much as breathe in her direction unless to give her instructions. The environment was so suffocatingly friendless that Astrid found herself wishing that even Thorsten twins would show up somewhere.
When they reached the station, she was ushered a ebony-white car, with a closed roof and tinted windows. Behind hers were two other cars that looked exactly the same, and the three cars took off together down the crowded roads of the silver city.
As they passed the neon lights and the flashy screens, it struck Astrid that was a remarkable amount of security around for some young victor from the Districts, even District 2, was far too much. Even if she wanted to run off – which she didn't, because she was a good citizen – it would only take two competent Peacekeepers to hunt her down. No, all this security couldn't just be for her. Then, for what?
Her question was answered when she was driven up the Presidential Estate.
~~~0~~~
District 5
It was bruises and blood. It was smoke and ash. It was chaos and disorder.
It was dangerous, yet somehow liberating.
In all his life, the only time that he had ever felt this free was in the Hunger Games. As a lad he had been a large strapping fellow, ever squashed in the narrow corridors of the electrical plants and cramped in the even narrower houses. He belonged in the great outdoors, free to hunt, to kill and to eat. In the Games, he had that freedom, and perhaps that was why he thrived where others withered.
But even as the victor, he never could completely escape the Arena. The stump below his left knee could attest to that.
Getting slotted Mayor of the District only added to his unseen chains. He knew that the Capitol had granted him this dubious privilege so that they could keep an eye on him. They knew Elinor would make him toe the line, which she did, ever wary of the punishments that their betters would dish out for the disobedient. Every day that he held that post, he felt nothing but intense boredom, which undoubtedly was the intention behind putting him here, in hopes that it would erode his hot-headed tendencies. Perhaps age had mellowed out his impulsiveness, but the temper of the Dunbrochs remained as fiery as their hair.
And the Capitol had tested his temper indeed when they took his wife.
"Sir!" It's the barber's boy calling for him, only that he wasn't donning the barber's apron as he should. Instead, he was clasped in the ragged vest and his chest bound in bandages, with a worker's helmet slapped over his head and his rifle slung over his shoulder. Around his neck slung the binoculars he had attained from a Peacekeeping scout – dead, of course. "It's all clear."
Fergus nodded, filing away the guilt that had washed over him. He had no time to dwell on the fate of his darling Elinor – not that he wouldn't give his good leg to know where she was, but if she were here, she would tell him to focus on the present. Every inch of land gained was a step closer to her – at least, that's what he told himself.
With two fingers, he gestured for his men to descend down to the station.
In the last month or so, they have gained ground and with their victories, more citizen hopped on the bandwagon. By the third week, they had taken over the main Peacekeeping garrison in District 5 and its Head Peacekeeper met his end in quite a ugly fashion. The Capitol had taken huge offence then, and had promptly channeled in dozens more Peacekeepers, complete with a new Head Peacekeeper.
His men, scrappy and untrained as they were, were good at following orders and MacGuffin was surprisingly good at giving them. Together with his son – whose accent was still incomprehensible - they had managed to piece together strategies that thinned their enemies' numbers considerably.
But it was become increasingly apparently that for every White Coat they killed, two more would step off the train from District 2. Hence, their goal of the day: take control of the station.
It was noon – broad daylight. This sort of attack would never be expected at this time of the day, which granted them the element of surprise. Moreover, it was boiling hot. While his men were sweating buckets, Peacekeepers in their hard white armour would be boiling alive. The station was an old building with terrible ventilation design, so their foes would be hardly be in the condition to receive them.
By now, it was almost routine, this whole 'capture the building' business. First lot of them would go down first to scout it out, taking out any visible cameras and prepared to signal at the first sign of danger. The rest of them would follow after, firearms in hand – or whatever weapon they've managed to scavenge from the dead – and poised for action. Most of the time they would be efficiency take out the guards and within minutes the place was theirs.
Occasionally, however, they would stumble into a firefight, which was precisely what occurred.
The pillars around the station proved to be useful cover, which Fergus gladly ducked behind. He undid the safety of his gun before unleashing fire upon their white-garbed foes. Even in the craze, his aim was true and at least five Peacekeepers fell. Advancing forward, he found new cover behind the opulent statue that stood in the centre of the walkway, a propaganda piece that depicted the Capitol as a sun and the districts as planets circling it. Fergus didn't know much about art, but made a mental note to have it blown up when the opportunity arose.
Finally, the melee ended with the last Peacekeeper crumbling to the ground. Half went forward to clear out the area ahead, while a few remained to survey the fallen for any survivors. Only one was wounded, a shot to the arm, which medic was dealing with presently. Fergus went over to check in with them. The patient was young one, in his teens, and the wound was ugly. It was clear that the arm had to go, but the lad still kept a brave face about it.
"Mayor, sir?" Someone called for him urgently. "You might want to see this."
Fergus left the lad then and headed over to the soldier that had found a data-pad on the body of a fallen Captain. Before he could read the words on the screen, all them heard a building roar in the distance.
All them stilled, listening.
Then, through the windows, they saw two white flat shapes emerging from the horizons, cutting through the blue sky like blades.
"It can't be," he heard murmured around him. "The Capitol wouldn't…"
That's what they had thought. District 5 was the District of Power. The Capitol, with all their wonderful technology and fancy infrastructure, relied more on power than any other region in the whole of Panem. They wouldn't risk bombing District 5 – no, they would try to pry it back. They would send in Peacekeepers and tanks, but they wouldn't risk hovercrafts raining down explosives on the electrical plants and power grids. It would take ages to build them all again, and the Capitol surely wouldn't like to wait so long to have its power up and running again, would they?
By the two large hovercrafts that zoomed over them, however, it was clear that they had all assumed wrong.
Focus shifted, Fergus found himself darting down the corridors, following the windows to get a better view. His men followed behind, clearly as distraught and fearful as he was. As he watched the hovercrafts nearing the hospital, his heart sank. He didn't know how they knew the exact location, but they did.
"Radio them right now!" Fergus growled, but even deep inside, he knew that it was pointless. By the time the message was received, the hovercrafts would have done their work.
Even while his men furiously tried to work the communicators, Fergus found himself praying – to what or who, he wasn't sure. He had always been a strong man, yes, but never had he felt so powerless. For the hospital didn't just hold the wounded, there were civilians residing there too. His boys.
His boys.
He had lost his daughter and his wife. In one single stroke, he would lose the last of his family.
Fergus was not a very introspective man by nature. He was not the type to mull over morbid possible futures, the way some would. He had no idea what he would do in a world where he had no family, because he would never let that happen. Except now, it will happen, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Just then, fire came raining down from the sky – but it wasn't from the the hovercrafts.
Coloured dots came swooping in, fast and furious. In the distance, they looked like insects. Yet somehow, fire emerged from them, spilling down on the Hovercrafts. He watched as the coloured dots swung themselves against the giant white vehicles, shoving off its initial course. Smoking spiralled off the top of one Hovercraft and it began spinning wildly, veering sharply to the left and crashing into a warehouse, that as far as Fergus knew was empty. The second hovercraft was very clearly on fire and it too begun it's inelegant descent into the nearby reservoir, its reign of terror ending with a booming explosion.
All his men were utterly stunned by the sight, but none as much as the barber's lad, whose jaws were at the risk of dislocating themselves with how wide they were hanging. His eyes were hidden behind the lens of binoculars.
Fergus marched right over to him and snatched the binoculars away. Ignoring how the boy tripped backwards after, he adjusted the focus and squinted through the glass.
Apparently, the colour dots weren't just dots, but appeared to be…flying reptiles?
"Sir, what should we do?"
He couldn't believe his eyes, but the evidence was clear.
"Sir?"
Finally, Fergus lowered the binoculars, handing it back their keeper. With a strange look on his face, he said, "Radio to the base not to panic. We just have some new friends out there." His gaze shifted to the two downed hovercrafts.
"Powerful friends."
~~~0~~~
S/N:
I couldn't think of a chapter title.
The Alpha dragon from HTTYD isn't going to appear here coz honestly I can't imagine District 13 spending money on maintaining its size and diet. A District that's trying to hide its progress would be pushing it by having a cave just for dragons already. So…Alpha controller device instead.
Merida's test was based on the Call of Duty game in Wreck-it-Ralph. I was thinking about using the cybugs somewhere else, but now I think…eh. It's fine. Let's just use them here.
Yes, Elsa is scared of Merida.
No, 'the barber's boy' is not any character. He just a random person that I needed to fill a role.
Elinor's 'disappearance' was the only real thing that happened in the April Fool chapter.
~~~0~~~
A/N:
It's going to be a while before I can update again. All I can say is that I've a lot of work on hand and yeah, it's been hard to sit down and write. So, just wanna say thank for the reviews and it's nice to see that there are people who still read this and want to see it done.
Anyway, who's up for the new Wreck it Ralph movie? I totally am.
Okay, now I'm going to go back to real world now. Bye.