Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Note: The era between the first and second Quarter Quells begins! And what better way than with the first Victor of a Distirct we've not seen hide nor hair of so far, aside a few brutes and shrimps in the arena. I certainly had fun with this one. Overall a touch lighter than the previous chapter was, not that such a thing is hard, and a bit more of a dark comedy of sorts. Plus, world building in Ten! Hope you guys enjoy. :)
Katniss looked down at the face of Stallion on the ground, as if unsure what to think of the boy who won so many years ago.
"Was he anything like Pasture?" Katniss asked, raising an eyebrow. "Anytime I think about District Ten I always think of her."
"Hard to forget the girl who beat twelve people to death with a shoe," Peeta agreed, a morbid chuckle passing his lips. "Honestly, I don't have much to say about Stallion. Just that, as you would naturally expect, he was a hero to his District when he went back home. Twenty five years of defeat in a row sure must have been awful."
"Imagine how District Six felt," Katniss said, frowning to herself. "He looks strong alright; I'd assume he was a pretty solid fighter."
"Three kills is certainly more than District Ten tributes would get in most years," Peeta agreed. "I mean, you know, besides Pasture."
"Crazy hillbilly, that one," Katniss said with a slow shake of her head.
The pair from Twelve became silent, letting a few moments pass by in respect to Stallion.
26th Annual Hunger Games
Name: Stallion March
Gender: Male
District: 10
Age: 16
Kills: 3
Life in District Ten is a particularly slow sort of affair.
The stories of wild cowboys, horseback chases in pursuit of bandits and southern belles with golden hair and hearts are all exaggerations, assuming they were true to begin with. Instead it's a place full of sparse settlements, massive fields and tons of livestock.
It also has a smell that only a resident of Ten can ever become ok with.
Most men and women with any kind of strength work long hours in the fields or the slaughterhouses. Others work in the factories and turn the meat into pies, steaks or burgers for the 'generous Capitol' to enjoy. Almost all of the jobs available in District Ten are the type that require plenty of messy hands on work which often becomes bloody, either due to blood of livestock or due to the unsafe working conditions that the citizens of Ten are forced to work under.
It's not the case for all citizens though, just most. Some citizens with a family business or a bit of brainpower can find a place in a more safe, indoor sort of working environment. Shoe makers, tailors, saddle crafters and so on.
Stallion March is among this sort of citizen, in his case being a worker at the library of the biggest settlement of District Ten. A massive boy at the age of esixteen with a height of six foot and five inches, a bulging set of biceps and a strong work ethic. He's every boss' dream employee, being able to easily haul around heavy crates of books and move shelves like they are nothing.
Kids can only watch in awe at how he's not only very much able to carry as many as three book crates with ease but also can read through near anything and understand the contents. Books on microbiology or nuclear physics come just as easily to Stallion as understanding the themes and meanings behind ancient books such as Lord of the Rings.
Many of the kids watch, cheering, as he lugs massive loads around and, on request, lifts as many as ten youths in the air as they sit on a bench. They often ask why such a powerhouse of a young man doesn't work in the fields or the slaughterhouses where he'd never fail to make quota. He'd be a great help.
Stallion, often a man of few words, just gives a small smile and claims the indoorsy life always agreed with him more. He never gives away more reasons to it than that little scrap. There are theories – allergies to animals, a secret lair in the library, fresh air being his one weakness – but Stallion just chuckles over them all as he works quickly and contently.
The real reason is a lot simpler, though it's nonetheless one he'd prefer to keep as a secret.
By the time of the Twenty Sixth Hunger Games it's pretty clear that District Ten is almost as close to thinking they will never have a Victor as District Six is. The previous year was a reprieve, one to get rid of the cannibal and a notorious animal torturer, but now the fear and painful resignation are back in a big way.
As the treaty is read out as it is every year, everybody from the twelve year olds to the eighteen year olds is shaking in terror like a lamb led to the slaughterer. It's ironic, the young citizens of the livestock District being a form of human livestock themselves. It's the same prayer muttered all around.
Not me. Please, not me.
Sometimes there are prayers for it to not be siblings or friends.
A scant few pray for a schoolyard bully or a nasty ex to be the one reaped, not that they'd say such things out loud.
One girl wails and hundreds of others sigh out in pure, utter relief as the escort – dressed as a blue cow with wings, naturally – reaps a fifteen year old by the name of Jezzica Grundler. A stout girl from one of the many butcher stores dotted around the settlements, her kind has gone into the arena before and all died. Whether or not she wins, the other girls are glad to be safe, either for a year or forever.
Everybody knows the shaking girl is doomed, surely just as doomed as whichever boy ends up being chosen. It's like the hearts of the District all stop as one when the escort reaches into the boys' reaping bowl and picks out a single slip of paper.
Tension rises.
"Stallion March!"
Out of the sixteen year olds section he marches, just as his surname might imply. The cameras are all on him as he, looking more like a man in his early twenties than a teenager, mounts the stage.
"Hi," he says to the escort, nice and friendly. "Nice day we're having."
The escort swoons, charmed at the good manners of the tribute she's gotten – naturally, not a single person volunteers – and begins gushing over how handsome and strong Stallion is. He politely smiles and, hiding his fear coolly, says he'll be doing his best.
As the crowd leave the reaping they have two main thoughts filling up their heads. The first being that poor, obviously dead Jezzica deserves better than this terrible fate.
The second is that, if he plays his cards right, Stallion might have a chance.
Of course, after twenty five years of defeat and painful death of their tributes it's hard to feel very strongly about one of their tributes having a chance. It's just asking for trouble.
Despite their reservations the citizens of Ten can't help feeling a sense of hope as the opening events of this year's Hunger Games begin to play out day by day. In each one Stallion remains calm, composed, friendly and more and more likely to be a serious contender in the arena. Weaker tributes than him have won before. The desperate desire to have hope burns strong once again.
In the parade Stallion stands firm and confident as a finely dressed cowboy. He gives bold, fearless looks to the cameras and even winks here and there. The Capitol love him from the get-go.
Of course, he's no match for the Careers and the love they always get. A Ten never is, even one as popular as strong, smart and oddly indoorsy as Stallion
But Stallion's strong performance doesn't stop there. In training he easily passes the edible plants tests, shows a familiarity with snares, swings swords and maces like they're an extension of his arms, throws axes and knives with a small smile on his face and even has more than one of the junior Gamemaker women looking a bit red in the cheeks.
The Careers mark him as a threat to pick off from the start but he doesn't let it threaten him at all. He just claims to have seen worse monsters in books that ended up dead and he doesn't see the Careers being much different.
He earns a ten when the scores are announced, the highest that the livestock District has ever been able to manage. The hope in Ten becomes harder to reign in, much like an unbroken horse. Could this boy really be their first Victor... or is he too good to be true? With his fanbase and score, the District can only hope that the interview will not be a disaster.
It's not.
Mortimer died before the interviews could begin, the ass cancer between his cheeks claiming his life while he sat on the can mere hours before the big event. Given it happened so close to the start of the interviews and how delaying them was quite simply not an option the staff had to grab somebody, anybody, who had some degree of social skills to take command of the interviews and keep the show going on.
It was a young, somewhat gangly intern aged a mere sixteen years old and sporting the name Caesar Flickerman who got yanked from his thankless job setting up some stage lights and thrust into the centre of attention.
A star was born that night.
Two stars, in fact, as Caesar and Stallion hit things off remarkably well. The teenagers joke about their teenage issues like work and finding a date, personal hopes and dreams, favoured movies and even if the Capitol or Ten have the superior recipes for salted bacon. The audience laugh, the teen and the tribute smile and it's all looking like a complete success.
"Do you feel confident about your chances in the arena tomorrow?" Caesar asks Stallion as the interview comes close to ending.
"I'd say so. In fact, I feel as confident about tomorrow as I do about day twenty or so," Stallion lets out a low chuckle. "Quite confident, just you wait and see."
"I shan't even blink lest I miss a moment," Caesar declares, grand and dramatic. "But one last question, Stallion... a big and strong guy like you, what's got you cooped up inside instead of being out in the fields? I think you'd be a great field worker."
Stallion just smiles.
"Maybe you'll see, maybe you won't," he replies as he shakes Caesar's hand to end things off. "If you don't find out in the arena then I'll let you know when I'm back. I will be back folks, you hear?"
Stallion leaves the stage to a massive, thunderous applause filled with cheers and declarations of love and support. The people of the Capitol seem to love him, all seeing him as a serious contender for the crown.
His District cheers for him, the local smart strongman proving himself to be the best chance for a Victor they've ever had and quite the likeable young man regardless. Maybe this is their year. Maybe they can finally, finally win and at least pull ahead of District Six.
It all comes down to the arena at this point. They hope for something that will play to Stallion's strengths.
Stallion hopes for literally anything besides one particular type of terrain. It's never been used, so maybe he's in the clear...
When the tributes rise into the arena it's barely five seconds before they feel like being sick. All around them is horrible, grimy, slimy green water and splattering of brown foulness upon the concrete floor and the large metal pipes that lead further away into the repulsive depths of the arena.
Rats scurry around in the darkness as the countdown ticks from sixty towards zero, the only light coming from a faint glow on the Cornucopia and a few electric lights built into the walls of the sewer here and there.
Many of the tributes are scared or at least disgusted by the arena they'll be fighting to the death in, but it's to the shock of the nation that early favourite Stallion looks like he is moments away from a complete and utter panic attack.
The countdown hits zero and the tributes begin to charge through the sloshy, awful sewage towards the bounty of the Cornucopia. Stallion meanwhile takes a deep, shaky breath and slowly puts one foot into the gunk around his pedestal.
Right before Glitter from One can grab a spiked club, her favoured weapon, a shrill scream breaks her focus and causes her to stumble and fall into the sewage. She rises, spitting and writhing in disgust as rapidfire footsteps begin to approach her.
"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GERMS! GRIME! GET IT OFF OF ME!"
Stallion moves like a blur, screaming and wailing as he surges towards the Cornucopia, bashing five tributes out of his way in the process. He tramples right over Glitter, forcing her further down into the raw sewage, and scrambles to grab up several large packs of gear and a big, mostly empty backpack. He dashes out again just as quick as he ran in and flees with screams and cries down one of the large pipe tunnels.
"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! I NEED SOAP, HOLY CRAP I NEED SOAP RIGHT NOW!"
All at once Panem sees what the issue is. The reason why Stallion is nearly never seen outdoors and never in the fields.
He's severely germaphobic.
District Ten can only sigh, feeling like fools for getting their hopes up. Meanwhile the tributes get over the stunning sight of Stallion having a meltdown and resume fighting and scrambling for supplies. With the putrid smell, the darkness and how the sewage water makes it hard to properly move around the Cornucopia clearing properly the bloodbath ends up being fairly small with only six bodies left to lay sprawled out and partly submerged in the sewage.
As is often the case the Careers arm up, the Outliers scatter away... and this year, Stallion continues to plead and beg for some soap.
It's only not much later that things begin to go downhill and a bigger problem than the Careers and their deadly weapons begins to arise...
Time ticks by until the second day within the sewers arrives. Stallion doesn't care to keep track of the time at this point, far too busy using a sponsored soap bar and some roll on deodorant to clean the grime off of himself. He sits hunched up very deep in the sewer twitching, shivering and moaning as he desperately tries to clean the grime away.
"Get off, get off, get off, get off, get off..." he mutters fast, almost as fast as Crown is known for doing.
Stallion has his issues, certainly, but the worst issues start to become apparent at around midday in the sewer- not that the tributes could actually tell the time, of course – amongst all who were given an injury at the bloodbath that was not given treatment swiftly.
Infection.
For ten of the remaining tributes, Glitter among them, their cuts and wounds have become infected with the germs of the sickly sewer and are beginning to make them sick. For now it just means nausea and occasional vomiting, but as days pass it's anybody's guess how bad it will be.
Tide, from the mentoring room, runs bets on this exact topic as a matter of fact.
The Careers hunt slowly, weighed down by Glitter being sick and her District Partner, a muscular brute by the name of Flash, adamantly refusing to go on without her. His loyalty earns admiration from One and the Capitol but plenty of ire from the Twos. They wander the vast pipe system of the sewer for hours, only managing to kill off the boy from Five.
The lanky power plant worker had been fairly close to dying anyway due to how the long cuts on his upper arms were badly infected after a fall into a deep pool of sewage. He even greeted the pack with a weak wave and telling them to just do it.
It's hardly the hunt that Crash and Coco hunger for.
Things get worse as the day goes by, the tributes getting all the more sickly and spread out. Stallion is just minding his own business, wiping his arm with another bar of soap, when a hatch opens from above him and more awful gunk fall out right on top of him.
His scream is heard throughout the entirety of the sewer labyrinth, echoing shrilly against the walls to a degree that becomes painful for the other tributes to listen to.
"GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!"
He sprints fast, practically a human blur as he blasts through the tunnels at random. He doesn't even realise that he runs right over the girl from Eleven and crushes her chest, the cannon barely entering his ears over his own screaming.
Stallion's immense speed and the sheer shrill volume of his screams cause the Career pack plenty of problems. Not only do they have no way to catch up to somebody running around so fast but they have no idea where he even is due to the echoing of his voice.
All the while the infected Outliers and Glitter continued to get weaker and weaker as infection took its toll.
Indeed, it was such an issue that a Feast was called as early as day four with plenty of medical supplies in hopes of healing up the tributes or at least creating some action packed deaths rather than infection doing the work instead.
Even with the tributes being given help with navigation – a sort of hot and cold game where their trackers would lightly vibrate when they were going the right way – not that many reached the feast. The healthy saw no reason to risk themselves, six of the sick tributes died and the Careers were slowed down by Glitter.
They got there just in time to see the tiny boy from Three running away.
To make matters worse it was right then when Glitter decided to drop dead. Crash and Coco seethed at their still living ally from One as Stallion's screams, wails and shouts kept on echoing over and over.
Infection is not content to merely strike people once, cured or not. By the eighth day everybody aside from Stallion and Crash have taken some kind of cut or wound that the sewer has infected all too easily. Outliers and Careers alike begin to die without particularly much fanfare as the only two healthy tributes continue to either prowl around in search of prey or run around screaming like a madman.
District Ten feel the familiar sense of pain and resignation like they always do. How stupid they feel for assuming they actually had a chance of any sort this year. Jezzica died of infection on the fourth day while Stallion has proved to have been vastly weaker than the nation had assumed; he's managed two kills, admittedly, but only by accident due to trampling over people who had fallen down from the pain of their wound infections already. It wasn't like he won a real fight.
It's only a matter of time before the dashing, strong boy from Two manages to find him and lay the fatal, final blow.
In the time between then the Head Gamemaker, knowing the idea of a filthy sewer maze is really backfiring on herself, calls for a second feast. Crash makes it there promptly, but nobody else does. They're either laying near death, trudging around as they slowly and painfully die miles away or, in the case of Stallion, just run in random directions screaming and begging for some soap and conditioner.
With the way the Capitol audience boo over the lack of bloodshed and true fighting she's dragged away kicking, screaming and begging from the control room by Peacekeepers under order of Orion to be executed for this blunder.
One of her subordinates is given the temporary role of Head Gamemaker, merely given the order to end the Games without any serious issues. She promises to do so.
It feels like a formality anyway, given that of the six... wait, no, five tributes who remain – the boy form Four just perished – Crash is hands down the most likely winner. Three of the rest are dying out from the sewer germs as it is, probably having less than a day or two left, and Stallion is such a broken, germaphobic mess that being healthy will not really grant him any sort of chance anymore.
With a half hearted shrug she tells the other Gamemakers to drive the tributes together for the finale as soon as one more of them dies.
The boy from Three falls into eternal silence midway through the afternoon of day nine and the finale begins. Waves of horribly, slimy sludge begin to flood the sewer pipes and drive the tributes to the higher points of the sewer for grimy, close combat.
The girls from Seven and Nine don't make it very far, the former being lost in the raw sewage and the latter having been around ten minutes from death anyway by the time the vile fluids catch her.
As Crash reaches the high ground first, pausing to catch his breath, District Two feels certain that they will be able to bring back a Victor two years in a row while District Ten hardly pay any attention. They know how this goes by now, the underdog makes a last charge and gets cut down like an animal in the slaughterhouse; why bother holding out any hope?
The screams and shouts draw closer and Crash readies himself for a fight. Of course, when standing in the middle of a four way intersection in the pipe tunnels it becomes hard to know quite where his opponent is and where the rapidly approaching footsteps are coming from.
By the time he looks behind himself he's far too late to dodge as Stallion, covered from head to toe in sewage, charges at him in a frenzy of panic and mania. Crash falls, trampled as Stallion barrels right over him.
Most think Crash will just get back up and quickly finish the job.
They're wrong.
Stallion runs in a panicky, crazy circle over and over for three minutes. In that time period he repeatedly steps on Crash with the Career boy given no chance to get himself back up again, the effort becoming harder and harder every time he is stepped on.
He's hardly even twitching by the time Stallion steps right onto his neck and the cannon fires.
Stallion screams in horror at the blood on his shoes and takes out his last bar of soap to try and wash it away, only pausing when the trumpets ring out.
He stands still, dropping the soap as he looks up in awe. The roof over the sewer opens up and a hovercraft begins to descend. It's like a spell has been lifted as the ladder to freedom drops beside him.
"...I did it," he whispers. "I'm the Victor... the first of District Ten..."
In spite of being covered in grime, blood and other foul things he manages to give a warm smile to the cameras he knows are watching him.
"I told you guys I could do it. I told you I'd be coming home," he says as he grabs hold of the ladder, it locking him into place and lifting him up to freedom and a shower. "It was all part of the plan... more or less."
District Ten are absolutely stunned into place for several long moments before they erupt into massive cheers and begin to dance, celebrate and party hard over their victory. They won! They finally have their own Victor!
They're so caught up in their own festive celebrations that they don't pause to think of District Six, the District with no Victor at all and whose two tributes died in the sewage within the first ten minutes.
"So, what's the first thing you're going to do when you get back home to District Ten?" Caesar asks as the final interview with Stallion comes to a close.
"Hmm... well, I gotta say that I'll probably make a nice beef sandwich, read a good book... and take a shower," Stallion says with a relaxed smile, having finally calmed now.
"Magnificent plan," Caesar says, laughing. "You know, people are calling you 'The Bull' or even 'The Stampeder' after all the running you did and how that running was exactly what took out three tributes. What do you have to say about that?"
Stallion considers it for a moment.
"Well, I guess it's just like all of District Ten in the end," Stallion replies. He smirks. "Mess with the bull, you get the horns. We're not so weak anymore and you can expect us to bring a good fight next year just like this year."
"I love that confidence, I love it!" Caesar exclaims as he and the crowd applaud.
A rarity for most post-Games interviews, there was only really a single lie in that Stallion had told Caesar and the nation as a whole. He didn't plan to take a shower.
He planned to take one hundred!
"Well, I don't know him, but Stallion must have been one hell of a badass survivor," Katniss remarked as she and Peeta resumed walking. "He must have been tough to get a win for District Ten after so long."
"Yeah. Probably one of the strongest Victors of those early years," Peeta agreed.
The pair walked on a short distance and came to the next face of the many upon the asphalt. A strong looking young man looked back at them, his eyes brimming with eager confidence and a manic grin unmissable. His hair resembled a sort of mohawk.
"Dragon Batofel," Peeta said, slowly shaking his head. "The 'challenge runner' of the Hunger Games."
That was a fun one. Certainly had me chuckling a bit as I wrote it out. We've had people fake being weak and then unleash immense power so I had the thought... what if somebody was assumed to be formidable but then just spent the Games screaming, sobbing and running around in a panic. Stallion was the result and honestly I like the way this burly goofball turned out. A nice contrast to the grimdark nature of the Quarter Quell. Stay tuned for more!
Stats
District 1: Peridot Gaudy (8th Games), Crystal McCree (14th Games), Bronze Marley (19th Games), Crown Martins (24th Games)
District 2: Baron Overwhill (4th Games), Runa Peace (7th Games), Olga Machete (10th Games), Rook Valiant (17th Games), Boulder Atherston (20th Games), Vercingetorix Carnby (25th Games)
District 3: Honorius Perthshire (5th Games), Pi Orbit (22nd Games)
District 4: Museida Selkirk (3rd Games), Mags Flanagan (11th Games), Tide Luther (23rd Games)
District 5: Shunt Gaspar (12th Games), Isobel Sparks (18th Games)
District 6: N/A
District 7: Pliny Aransio (2nd Games), Fir Buzz (9th Games), Jack Tylos (21st Games)
District 8: Woof Casino (16th Games)
District 9: Mizar Aldjoy (1st Games), Gwenith Rosebud (13th Games)
District 10: Stallion March (26th Games)
District 11: Bear Redfoot (15th Games)
District 12: Duke Saint-Rose (6th Games)