The SYOT is finally filling up! Please submit!
The day after his nighttime escapade, he slept in till noon.
Callista was long gone, of course. It was the last day of training for the tributes, the day when they would be evaluated and given their training scores. In his opinion, people placed too much weight on the scores—what if the tributes were deliberately scoring low? The scoring also couldn't describe the way that tribute interactions and intelligence affected one's odds of survival—someone in an alliance was more likely to make it past the initial stage of the game, and intelligence was far more important in making it through the late game.
And so, Maxxy didn't spend any attention on the Games all day. What was the point? Day Three was always a quiet day for Hunger Games news. He'd promised Callista to spend time with her that night anyway, and after nearly a day without looking at Mariam's gut-wrenching face, he felt like it might actually be okay to not be obsessed over exposing her supposed secret.
It was six o'clock, and she'd be home soon. He'd ordered a steak dinner for two a while ago; perhaps that would be enough to make it up to her. As he waited, he settled into the couch and clicked on the television. To no one's surprise, it was just the recaps of the Training Scores and a ton of over-analyzed speculation.
"Moving on to District Four…" the announcer on screen said.
Gosh, it seemed like the universe was determined to force him to look at District Four. Perhaps he should look away—he didn't need to worry about some mysterious girl's aura when the night was for Callista. But somehow, the nagging feeling inside wouldn't let him go. This was his destiny. This was his purpose.
He laughed at how dramatic he was becoming and continued watching the broadcast.
"Lazarus' 9 isn't any surprise. We all knew coming in that he was strong and a major threat, and this only confirms that if you're betting on the yearly Star Alliance, he's a strong pick."
"Now let's move on to Mariam," the other commentator said. "Mariam is clearly the surprise of this year, with her magnificent score of 11."
Maxxy nearly smashed the screen. Eleven? What kind of witchcraft was this? He paused the screen and stared at the double vertical bars that made up Mariam's ridiculously high score. First she was only fifteen. Then her chariot outfit outshone the rest. And then she spent time with little Willow from Seven, and now she received an eleven? Was she some reincarnation of an ancient god?
At that moment, the door slammed open and Callista's furious voice knocked any thought of Mariam out of his mind. "Maxxy! How could you?" She stomped into the room, slamming the door behind her. Something told him that they weren't about to drink and play games together.
"What did I do this time?"
"I knew you loved getting in trouble, but sneaking into the Tribute Tower? That's a whole new level of stupid!"
How did she find out? "Sneaking into the Tribute Tower? Why would I ever do that?"
"You tell me, you liar!" she screamed, getting in his face, " 'I'm going out with Thaddeus,' you said. Absolute BS!"
"I'm sorry, okay?" he protested, both hands up, "No one was supposed to know."
She rolled her eyes. "Think, you dolt! There are cameras all over the interior of the Tribute Center, and it's our job to watch whenever the tributes are down there."
He gulped. "So you all were watching Mariam and Lazarus…?"
"Duh! And you think I wouldn't recognize my own husband's face?"
"Well," he said, trying to calm her down, "No one else recognized me, right?"
"Only because I digitally edited the footage to make sure no one would ever be able to tell it was you! You're not some random nobody!"
"I'm sorry."
"You'd better be," she said, backing off and tossing her purse on the table. "And I saw your face when you looked at Mariam."
"Seriously?" he said, a little hurt at her implication, "You think I'm that type of guy?"
"You're stupid enough to sneak into the Tribute Center; I don't know anymore."
"Look," he said, "I can explain. She gives off a really mysterious aura, and I have to get to the bottom of this."
She stared at him deadpan, and he immediately regretted his words. "Uh huh. So this random girl from District Four volunteers and now you treat her like she's the Chosen One."
"It's not like that! It's a gut feeling; it's really hard to explain."
She turned her back on him and headed toward the room. At the door, she paused and looked back. "You're just jealous, aren't you," she said, "You're a failure and she succeeds at everything."
The words stung, even long after Callista had slammed the bedroom door, leaving Maxxy on the couch alone. It wasn't the first time that someone had called him that, but she'd never said those words to him.
Of course she didn't understand. In the moment, he'd picked the worst possible way to explain it to her. But how else could he have said it? Somehow, he didn't think it would've worked to say that Mariam just didn't seem right. It really was that aura that bothered him; her piercing eyes and flowing hair, her words as smooth as the ocean and her movements more elegant than…
Gosh, maybe Callista was right. Maybe he had become "that kind of guy." But when he fell in love with Callista, he hadn't felt any gut-wrenching aura around her. Callista had seemed confident and kind. Smart and determined. Witty and pleasant. She was a real person, without this kind of otherworldly atmosphere…
The light bulb came on. Perhaps… Mariam wasn't human. But he'd need to test a sample of her DNA, and how would he ever get that? Unless…
He picked up his phone and dialed the number once again, taking a deep breath before he tapped the button to call.
A voice answered the phone. "Hello?"
"Hey, this is Maximilian, again."
"Again? What do you want now?"
He cleared his throat. "Look, I'm going to need another favor from you. It's the last time; I promise."
Interview night was possibly just as busy as Tribute Parade night. People swarmed the restaurants and the streets of the Capitol. Gamemakers had prepared all day, and they were likely already in their special balcony, enjoying dinner as they waited for the interviews to begin. And as for the tributes? They were en route to the interview stage, along with their mentors, stylists, and prep crew, leaving no one but the Avoxes on their District floors.
Maxxy found himself pushing his way through the dense Capitol crowd once again. In the years past, he had gone with Callista to watch the interviews with her, but she didn't invite him this year, still furious at him for sneaking into the Tribute Center. He didn't want to know how she'd react if she knew he was about to try it again—except this time, he was going to the tribute quarters.
He looped back to the Service entrance of the Tribute Center, where Thaddeus' cousin was waiting for him once again, an annoyed expression on his face. To his credit, the guy didn't say anything as Maxxy changed into his red servant Avox outfit and applied some makeup to cover up his regular face, and he let him in without a word. The door slammed shut and the car drove away.
Here he was again. Except this time, it felt almost completely different. On this floor of the stairwell, there were two doors, one with a window that looked like a kitchen and the other one leading to the reception area. The stairs were actually pretty decent this time as well, and there was even an elevator.
No elevator for him. It'd likely require a key card, and it was easier to get caught in that confined space. As he tiptoed up the sleek stairs, he listened carefully for noises, but the only sound was his squeaky left shoe.
He found himself at the door marked with a "4", unable to enter. Drat. He hadn't thought this far ahead, and now he was at the mercy of luck to get in.
He waited and waited, leaning against the wall, but the door remained closed—no one came in or out. He snuck a peep at his watch, now in his pocket. Would he be left here alone all night? He slid down the wall until he was sitting, head tilted back, waiting for someone—anyone—to come. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what type of person would even appear to let him in…
His eyes shot open when the elevator purred. He'd fallen asleep. He looked over just in time to see the elevator slide open, an Avox with a cart of food inside. The man-Avox cocked his head, and Maxxy pointed to the door. The Avox shrugged, and when the guy entered with his cart, Mazzy tagged along.
Then he realized. If the Avox was delivering food, then there must be someone inside to deliver food too. He had counted on there not being anyone inside in order to get his DNA sample, but it seemed like it wouldn't be so easy.
The District Four Tribute Quarters almost made him feel ashamed of his own home. He was inside the dining room, where the Avox was arranging the food on an ornate table, surrounded by lavish chairs, which sat below an extravagant blue chandelier, studded with genuine sapphires. The floor was of the highest quality tile, and he could see the open living space, where there were sleek couches arranged to face a huge screen that faded into the wall when turned off. He was rich, but he wasn't this rich.
Footsteps approached, ambling down the hallway to the side. A female voice was on the phone with someone. Maxxy hurried over to join the real Avox in placing food on the table. Avoxes weren't supposed to make direct eye contact unless initiated on, but he still stole a few glances at the person being served. Wavy, brown hair. Confident gait. Playful voice as she spoke on the phone.
This was none other than Magdalene Flanagan, Victor of the 11th Hunger Games. She turned in his direction, and he averted his eyes, only to accidentally meet her gaze as she picked a donut hole off the plate he was holding. She laughed when he stared at the ground, his cheeks burning, but then her attention was back on the phone.
"But back to business. Districts One and Two are asking for Mariam now."
He nearly jumped as he remember his purpose for being there. Mariam's DNA. But the rest of the star alliance was asking for Mariam now? It wasn't surprising, considering her fantastic training score, but everything was working out far too well for her. All the more reason to expose her as soon as possible.
This was all assuming that she was actually not human, of course. He didn't want to think about how much time he had wasted if she really were just another normal tribute.
While Mags was busy on the phone, he slipped down the hallway, peeking in the rooms until he found Mariam's, marked by her name engraved in a plaque hanging from the door. After the Games, these plaques would be sold to the highest bidder. He usually skipped, but perhaps, he'd buy hers, just as a keepsake. He slipped into the bathroom and checked the shower, where some of her fallen hair had clumped around the drain.
He stared at the hairball and couldn't believe that he was actually doing it. Gross. At home, Callista cleaned up after herself, and so he'd never had to do this. He squeezed his eyes shut, and then he opened them again. No time to waste.
Moving as fast as he could, he picked up the hair and dropped it in the plastic bag he had in his pocket—and then he turned on the faucet, scrubbing his hands until he was sure they were clean.
Footsteps.
He peeked out of the bathroom to find Mags entering the room.
"Well, well, well," she said, "What are you doing here?"
He froze, almost opening his mouth before he remembered that he couldn't speak.
"You're not supposed to be in here, you know that?"
If he could talk, he'd tell her that she wasn't supposed to talk to Avoxes, but all he could do was nod slowly.
"So… why don't you explain yourself?"
Had she picked up on the fact that he wasn't an Avox? On a whim, he broke into a run, shoving her out of the way as he barreled through the District Four quarters and out the service door before he flew down the stairs and fled the building.
He was out.
The beeping of the computer was obnoxious, much noisier than the smooth, silent holoscreens that were now the latest technology for home use. This wasn't a home computer—scientific equipment didn't seem to be designed with ease of use in mind.
Maxxy leaned over the scientist's shoulder. She was a friend of his father, and as far back as he could remember, she had tried to get him to like science. That came in handy for him, since she was more than happy to do the DNA test with him.
"What's all this gibberish mean?" he said, trying to make sense of the numbers and letters on the screen.
She said something about TPM-1 and some other permutation of letters and numbers that sounded like a cheat code.
"What does it tell us?" he asked again.
"What do you want to know?" she said, "The human genome is full of answers—you just need to know where to look."
"Could you tell this person's ancestry?"
"Let me search it against a database," she said, punching some keys that caused another screen to pop up, this time with a map of Panem. A pop-up window appeared, and she gasped.
He squinted, but nothing made any more sense. "What?"
"Well…" she said, "This sample is highly unusual for something you got in the Capitol."
He bit his lip—that sample most definitely did not come from the Capitol. "How so?"
"It matches very closely with genetic samples from District Four, which would suggest this is from a very pure Districto woman…"
The hesitation in her voice caused his gut to twist again. Something was up, and he didn't like it. "But…"
"This doesn't make any sense. Some of the DNA… could only be from District Thirteen."
A/N: Whelp, plot twist out of left field, I guess. If you couldn't tell, this story isn't supposed to take itself too seriously.
Please submit! I've already finished the District One introductions (which is why this chapter took so long to write); they'll go up this Sunday.