Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Note: Here we are, another victor in the long line-up! Porter has always been a fairly interesting victor to me. Like, we know nothing about her at all side the injury she took within her Games and that she came from District Five. That's literally it… and you know what, I think canon has given me just enough to work with! After that all it took was having the chapter be narrated just like Battleblock theatre… you'll see what I mean. Let's begin!
Katniss and Peeta had stood silently for a few moments, paying respect towards Porter. She was one of those, after all, who had been confirmed as deceased during the victor's purge. Not that anybody knew who had been responsible for the kill, of course.
"Did Porter ever heal? I mean, she didn't wear the neck brace for years did she?" Katniss asked, curious.
"I think she ended up being able to get it removed. Capitol tech or something like that," Peeta replied. "Imagine how many lives could've been saved if they hadn't hoarded all of their advancements."
"I try not to. I get depressed," Katniss said, a dull and depressed look within her eyes. "Call me crazy, but Porter… it strikes me as an odd name for a girl from Five."
"Yeah, I thought that too," Peeta said, nodding his agreement. "…Think there's a story behind that?"
"I have no idea," Katniss said, shaking her head. "They never really spoke about Porter on the TV. Not even during Games season."
"Must have been a scandal then," Peeta guessed.
38th Annual Hunger Games
Name: Porter Tripp
Gender: Female
District: 5
Age: 18
Kills: 2
Katniss and Peeta were not the only star crossed lovers that the Hunger Games ever had. Sometimes love would blossom, only to end up broken and inevitably forgotten once new tributes and flashier victors came along each and every year.
But there was one pair who would never be forgotten for at least a more or less reasonable time. One love story that simply stood no chance of turning out like a cliché fairy tale, both due to the rules of the arena and a particularly volatile ex-boyfriend. The 38th Hunger Games were from an era of great change and great violence within Panem, more than usual at least… and it all started with the Girl of Two Districts, Porter Tripp.
As anybody in Panem could tell you, each District had their own tastes for names. One favoured rather silly and fancy names, Two preferred strong and bold names, Twelve tended to use the name 'Coal' way more than they needed to and Seven generally used tree based names because they were not the most original of folk. But Five, they favoured things that related to their industry – Power. Node, Neon, Fusion, Atom and so forth.
Porter was not a District Five name.
It made sense, as Porter herself was not a District Five girl to begin with. Gather around, children, and I'll take you back in time for a story!
It was just after the end of the thirty seventh Hunger Games where Beetee shocked the nation – and the careers – with his unexpected victory. A certain gambler within the Capitol made a killing on their bet and went all out with buying the latest in artificial wing implants.
On the other hand a rather foul tempered fisher boy in Four by the name of Fisher – quieten down children, I can't tell you the tale if you keep laughing! – lost the major bet he'd put on his District's tributes and found himself in a spot of bother with the local debt collectors.
They left more than a spot upon his face. In fact, they left a few bruises, children!
He didn't like this, not one bit. That's why he returned home to his ratty apartment in the slums of Four and took out his frustrations upon his girlfriend Porter. Now I know what you're thinking, what kind of one-note person like that even exists? Well children, I'll tell you what kind… the kind who lost money and got beaten up by debt collectors for it.
Anyway, it was a loveless sort of relationship the two had. You know the classic story, boy meets girl, girl is mute and smiles at boy, boy asks girl to help him pick pockets, girl agrees, boy soon asks girl on date, girl is mute and doesn't exactly say no, boy becomes possessive over the course of several years, girl wants O-U-T and lacks options… as I said, a classic sort of story.
But normally Fisher was the sort who could be reasoned with after blowing off some steam for an hour or two. After that he'd grab a cheap beer, take a good swig and sit around until Porter finally came out from her hiding place to spend the rest of the evening awkwardly wondering where the nearest escape was and how she may flee towards it.
The night of the lost bet changed everything. Fisher was really angry, children, he was really pi-Mad! He was mad! Mad enough to ignore his girlfriend's silent plea for mercy and leave her with a broken arm. There was more than just trouble within Fisher's trolley, my friends.
Porter may have been silent, lanky and not exactly filled with any sort of muscle, but she had spirit – or stubbornness depending on who you ask – and fought through the pain to remain conscious until Fisher ended up falling asleep, bottle in hand. She packed up all her stuff and ran like the wind!
But where to? Where within District Four is a girl like Porter going to run, you may ask? Not much help to be found and all the ships get checked for any would-be stowaways. The answer is a lot simpler than you listeners might be thinking. She didn't run away into the depths of District Four.
No, silly children! Our silent heroine decided 'to hell with Four', packed all her admittedly few belongings, showed the District her favourite finger and made a run towards the train station. With so much security by the docks in those old days it meant that the train stations across Four were occasionally left understaffed. This was the case at the station Porter chose to make her getaway at and so it was that she made it onto a rickety old train without detection, riding it off into the night.
She didn't know it until the next morning, but she'd chosen to ride upon a train towards District Five. A District that was suffering from a bit of Peacekeeper peril after the previous Hunger Games. Talk about sidestepping a pothole only to fall of a bridge, right children?
Now it goes without saying, but the Capitol doesn't like to be disrespected. Seriously, one sneeze out of turn and its off to the woodchipper for you! Acting out of turn is dangerous enough, but calling them out and then having yourself and your district partner jump to the land mines? Orion would be rolling in his poison if he could have seen how such a display aired across Panem!
President Snow was never a man you should cross, unless you were crossing him off the guest list to a party that you weren't sure if he'd want to waste his time attending. He decided 'to hell with the feelings and rights of my fellow human beings' and was all like 'make them pay' to his Peacekeeper army.
Porter had an eventful first day in Five. You know how it is, piss off Snow and suddenly you and your neighbours have to deal with broken windows, smashed faces and that unenviable feeling of begging for death to end the pain. Ouch! For a government ruling what little remains of humanity the Capitol sure don't seem to care about much more than the short term, huh? But what do I know, children, I'm just the narrator here.
Porter was weak and hungry, barely dodging the chaos going on in the streets in her desperate quest for some vague form of sanctuary. She even almost got stabbed, frickin' stabbed! Nobody likes being stabbed!
Hiding herself in a back alley between a crate and a garbage can that smelt like last week's tuna surprise led her to witness something most unusual. It was a young man! Reddish hair, light muscles, a bleeding leg and a whimper like that of a dying animal, it was clear to Porter that this guy needed a helping hand, if not two!
So that's what she did, even in spite of her own battered arm and numerous hurt feelings. Porter was a total champ, children, as she took the young man over her shoulder and – after asking a passer by who, enviably, had no severe wounds, where the hospital was – took him off to get fixed up.
It wasn't just a day where District Five received one hell of a collective beating from a gigantic force of Peacekeepers. No, for it was much more! It was also a day where Porter made a friend! For you see, the battered boy whom she took to the hospital wasn't just any old boy with five broken ribs. No, quite the opposite! He had six broken ribs and he was the son of the richest power plant owner.
Even in a dog eat dog world like Panem there exists a thing called 'being grateful for the fact somebody saved your son from literally dying', and so it was that the boy, Dezz, and his family gave Porter their profound thanks for her selflessness. Oh and, you know, gave the mute girl a place to stay due to her small case of complete and utter homelessness.
It was the first night in a long time that Porter was able to sleep soundly. No bed bugs would be biting her in her new cosy bed, no sir! With Fisher all but a bad memory and now with a new group of people looking out for her, it seemed like things would start looking up for our hapless heroine and maybe, just maybe, she'd finally get a chance to receive some help for her fractured psyche.
…We all know it won't be that easy, right? Right. Panem was a pretty hopeless place in those days children. Of course, even the word hopeless has hope in it, and if you rearranger the letters you get the word 'peeslosh'.
I guess the last part wasn't really necessary.
Change is inevitable, no matter who you are or what you claim to have bribed Father Time with. You could give him all the cotton candy in the land and change will still happen! In the months that led up to the reaping of the Thirty Eighth Hunger Games plenty of changes happened in Porter's young life, and some of them were pleasant to the point of not sucking even a little bit.
Porter turned eighteen, with gifts ranging from a massive chocolate cake to an extra slip with her name on it in the reaping bowl.
Porter had her first date with Dezz and it ended up being relatively kind of alright. Sure, the peacekeepers lining the streets made things a bit awkward, but where in Panem was not awkward in those days?
Porter was officially diagnosed with selective mutism. Many years of harsh consequences in response to speech - be it her once-living family throwing quite the tantrumy tantrum over her alleged bitching or Fisher smacking her silly for a word out of line – had given her an aversion to speaking in almost any given scenario. It was months, months and days, before she even uttered a single sound in the home of Dezz and his parents!
"Toast please…" she whispered one morning, barely audible.
It wasn't much to an outsider – I mean, unless the outsider loved toast and I guess when you get down to it most people do – but what it meant, why that was quite the big thing children! It meant a bond of trust had been well and truly formed. Jaws off the ground people, it was only inevitable!
But while Porter and Dezz made googly eyes at each other and basked in the moonlight of yesterday's promises - uh, whatever that means – things were also changing for the Victors of District Five.
Much like being a well paid doctor, being a Hunger Games victor in not all it is cracked up to be. Little personal life, hardly any chance to enjoy your wealth, not much sleep and the experiences you get from your job possibly inflicted oodles of unwanted, rather annoying PTSD.
Such was the case for Isobel and Crimson, the two living victors of District Five. At least Shunt was able to get some rest – well, in a manner of speaking – but for these two women it was all work and no play. No, children, Crimson being whored out to the highest bidder does not constitute play. Shame on you! Anyway, as I was saying, it was a hard time for the pair of Victors for a variety of nasty reasons that would drive all but the strongest among us to a quite literal mind break.
Crimson was frequently forced into sex against her will, lest her entire family be executed. It was a wonder and two halves that she was able to make it through each day and only spend six hours crying instead of, like, eight or nine.
Isobel was plotting and scheming as she and Crimson laid flowers upon Shunt's grave. A fancy thing, made fancier by the fanciful fabergé flowers… fancy! Anyway, Isobel was at her limit and as anybody who saw the Eighteenth Hunger Games could attest… well, Isobel could get particularly dangerous when she lost her temper.
They say her bellowing of 'go beyond, plus infinity' gives the odd career tribute nightmares.
She felt that it was time to act, to at least start off the groundwork for the inevitable second rebellion. The Captitol's treatment of her District after the previous Games was disgusting! Why, it was ever worse than some sort of butt salad! Isobel was truly done with fu-messing around! She was pi-ANGRY!
And so, as the reaping got ever closer she – with Crimson backing her up, of course – decided upon her plan of action. Grouping up the victors, those not from Capitol loyal backgrounds, in their own circle of rebellion is one thing but it takes more than that to stick it to the Capitol. It takes blood, sweat, tears and pizazz! Lots of pizazz!
Pizazz is exactly what she has, contained within the form of a small pellet containing a particularly nasty poison from Five. The kind that leads to a frothing mouth, pale green skin, wild stammering and then death. It's disgusting!
But before Isobel could try to pull an Orion 2.0 and take down the new president, she'd have to mentor another pair of tributes in hopes of one among them not ending up very seriously dead! But who would her tributes be this year?
Would they be tall or short? Fat or thin? Smart or dumb as a sack of waterlogged dormice? Left or right handed? The possibilities were practically endless, children!
As you may have guessed, Porter and Dezz reclaim their roles in this tale I'm telling you by having their names pulled from the reaping bowl. What bad luck! Triple the bad luck of stubbing your toe on a sharp piece of coral!
The young couple could only sit and grieve, wondering why such an unlikely thing ended up happening to them. Both members of a couple, one of whom hasn't even been living in District Five for a full year! What could have done this?!
If you've been paying attention, class, you'll know it's less 'what' and more 'who'. Porter's name had been pulled from the District Four reaping bowl, only for nobody to step up. All it took was the Capitol's spies and agents looking over their archive of footage to find a few traces of Porter and then the escort being told, via her ever so fashionable neon pink earpiece of course, to read out Porter's name no matter what the paper slip says.
Porter was rigged, Dezz was just plain unlucky, Five could only wish the young couple luck and Isobel knew right away that something was up.
Like many things, such as the invention of the donut, it was no coincidence and she knew it! But what would she do about this, children? What would she do?
Well, if I may be as bold to say it, she won't sit around in a dinosaur onesie with a karate magazine to look over. No sir, it was time for her to get into action!
In almost every Hunger Games in history, aside the very earliest few of all, there have been alliances. It was tradition for the career pack to group up and hunt down everybody else, but it was also likely for tributes to work alongside their district partner. I mean, let's face it, if somebody doesn't know you before arriving in the Capitol then what's stopping them from stabbing you like yesterday's steak? Literally nothing aside basic human decency and we all know that tends to get ignored in the arena!
Porter and Dezz allied right away, their plan being to work together to be the last two left alive and then… well, try not to die, somehow? Maybe dig a hole and stay in it? Marry in the arena? They decided to just work it out when they got there. Maybe if they tossed away their weapons and tied themselves together with duct tape or rope they'd force a tie?
It wasn't long before the first pair of star crossed lovers realised what the biggest danger to themselves was going to be. Now at first you might think it was those super strong fathead careers causing the heebie-jeebies. I mean, yikes, the boy this year has the word hate tattooed on his teeth! That's more hate than you'd find in a typical shark mutt!
But no, it wasn't the careers and it wasn't the gamemakers either. And shut your faces children, because it wasn't the boy from Six with Crohn's Disease who kept shitting himself. He was the biggest source of grossness, but he wasn't a threat. I mean, besides being a threat to everybody's nostrils…
No, children, it was Fisher! Remember him? The guy from Four that started this whole tall tale of mine with he was all like 'you bitch, taste my fist' to Porter? That Fisher? Yeah, it turned out that he'd volunteered for the Games that year. What coincidence that must have been! Or, you know, fate having a good old merry chortle at Porter's expense.
Porter recognised Fisher and obviously the Bitter Betty from Four recognised his ex-girlfriend. During the first day of training there was arguments and shouting that were basically all coming from Fisher, it was like really scary and noisy and there might have even been a girl who pissed herself1 The horror, the horror of it all!
The pack of five members were on one side, the Fives were on the other, the rest of the tributes were just kind of hanging around and wondering whether to support the couple from Five or stay on the careers' somewhat good side and join in with mocking their faces. You couldn't cut the tension with an exploding chainsaw, children!
Eyeing the spectacle as it played out were the Gamemakers. They all liked a good spot of violence for afternoon entertainment, either that or a good romance movie. It just so happened that this year the Games were offering up both. Sure, there had been the odd ill fated romance in the Games in previous years, but never to this sort of a degree.
It was obvious to the Head Gamemaker, Paris Cobble, was eating up the drama like a fine peach pie with two scoops of ice cream. Two! And how could she not? Romantic drama, a girl who ran from one District to another and found her true love, a jealous ex with a history of violence… it was all to die for! Literally, as a matter of fact! Well, the tributes would anyway, not the Gamemakers, no sir.
Day one of training came to an end and with it an idea was born. Overcome with fantasy, dreams and more than a bit of personal bias towards the star crossed lovers from District Five, Paris hatched quite the twist for this year of the Hunger Games. A grand spectacle of a twist! Not a Quell-level twist, but certainly something worth letting off a party popper about.
Using a security camera to watch the pair from Five silently holding each other on the living room sofa of floor five, more words in their eyes than any amount that could be spoken, made her all the certain of her plan. It would be grand! It would keep ratings away from rock bottom! It might even ensure she was promoted, or at least not executed like that guy who added the hand grenades into the games. I mean, was he for real?
The plan might even make the shippers happy, the shipper people! It goes without saying, children, but the Capitol – being somewhat halfway towards purely obsessed with idealised romance – really like shipping.
So of course, what else could the plan have been besides marrying the tributes to each other?
The second day of training started off pretty normal, all things considered. The traditional torment of the weak from the strong, the clashes of blades and blunt objects upon dummies, one kid crying off in the corner and, of course, two career boys arguing over who had a bigger sword while one random outlier was unable to hold back a faint snicker. Such fine traditions for this not-so-fine country. It seemed the day was going to be fairly standard.
Or was it?
Not a chance! Training ended two hours earlier than usual and the tributes were given an exciting surprise announcement from Paris. That is, after she politely requested Fisher to stop scowling and making borderline sociopathic gestures towards the Fives.
Everybody was taken aback from the plan to legally marry all of the tributes together. The boy from one laughed, thinking the whole thing was hilarious. The girl from Two just shrugged, not caring either way. The boy from Three tried to mumble something about not liking women while the girl from Nine asked where she could file from divorce, not liking the look of her somewhat gangly district partner. Sheesh, I guess looks are everything to some people!
Porter and Dezz looked at one another, wide eyed. Much to the delight of Paris they joined hands, leaning it to gently nuzzle noses like infatuated Innuits or something. They had no issues with such a thing happening to them, especially with the likelihood of one, or both, of them dying in the gruesome days of the arena.
At least they'd have a few days to know what it was like to be married. You know, besides stuff like fighting over who left the toilet seat up and who would pay for the latest meal out.
By a pure fluke, this one of the extremely rare years where the tributes from each district were the same age. Imagine that! I mean, what kind of odd are those? Awfully unlikely and suspicious convenient if you ask me! If nothing else it made paring up the tributes a hell of a lot less creepy than it otherwise may have been. If you ask me forced marriage is still creepy, but I'm just the narrator here. I'm Booboo the fool.
There were fairly happy couples like the Ones and the Sevens who had gotten along fine with their District Partners from the start. Additionally, the kids from Eight simply appreciated the fact they'd gotten the first date of their lives… I mean, if a shared plate of cookies in the canteen counts as a date. I suppose it does?
There were the neutral couples who didn't really care one way or the other. Just like my parents, fancy that! Among these two were the Twos and the Tens.
There were couples like the Sixes and the Twelves where one partner clearly did not want to be near the other, and awkward couples like the Threes where, during a late night talk, both had a good laugh over the fact they were both gay and called the whole thing ridiculous, content to just act like it did not exist.
Oh, and the Fours were three steps past messed up. Fisher even slapped his new wife! He slapped her, the silly bastard! He wanted to win, of course, but more than that he wanted Porter back… right before he cut her open for leaving him behind.
But the Fives… the Fives! They were the happiest couple of them all, like seriously it wasn't even close. It was a delightful display of kisses, explosions of romance and explosions of romantic kisses! Frankly Paris just could not get enough of them!
But every tale must end someday, children, and it was likely that the day in question was not to be very far away. After all, all too soon it was the night before the Games would begin and lives would end in ever so messy, disgusting ways.
Caesar really outdid himself for the interviews, keeping a balance between the theme of romance, making each tribute stand out from their new husband or wife and ensuring that the crowd got the odd hint towards or blatant display of ferocity for the arena.
None were more ferocious than Fisher, the recruit of the career pack vowing to personally take out both of the Fives. Many a shipper booed him that night – ironic when you think about it, what with Four being a district of shippers, albeit a different sort – whereas those who didn't hold any feeling aside contempt for the romance between the Fives cheered him on, vowing to send him plenty of gifts to help him return home alive.
Porter didn't make a sound throughout the entire spectacle. She never said a single word, not even a quiet 'bugger off' to Fisher. No, the mute girl was content to remain as exactly that. Of course, if mindreading was possible then you can bet there would be a whole monologue oF thoughts to filter through.
Among those thoughts would be 'No, no, no! Get me out of here! Not again! Please, not again! No more pain… no more beatings… Fisher, no!' But, that's just a guess. Who can say for sure?
So… Isobel. Remember her? Yeah, she's still alive and kicking as I tell you my tale. While the tributes boarded the hovercraft to take the ride of their lives, and deaths, towards the arena and Crimson got sent off to her next appointment lest her family get shoved through the woodchipper, Isobel was a woman on a mission! A grand mission, full of bells and whistles… and rebellion!
It all started, of course, with playing the part of a mentor trying to get sponsor finds for her tributes regardless of her personal feelings of the residents of the Capitol. Quite a good thing when you consider that was precisely her goal in the first place; she doesn't want those kids to end up dead, children! Perish the thought!
But Isobel could only take so much of the mindless chatter of the citizens and their lack of understanding of the tributes being more than just characters on TV. So, quite understandably, she got out of there with the haste of a greased rabbit and passed by an Avox on the way to her taxi.
An avox she'd requested for Mizar to have meet her there at that specific time. He had, after all, paid for the avox's life a few years back.
She silently passed the poison pill over towards the avox, as sly as a fox from city full of, well, foxes.
Only a glance, a mere instant within time, is all she allows herself to look into the eyes of the avox as she continues on her way to the taxi, sponsor funds collected. Any longer would make her a wee bit suspicious, and Isobel couldn't be having that. What good is a murder plot if it's busted before it starts?
But it wasn't just suspicion that she risked, children. No, no, it was also tears. Thick, salty, wet, shimmering tears.
Why, you ask? Well… if your wife, or equivalent, were turned into an avox because you were deemed to be behaving a bit badly… wouldn't you get a bit misty in those eyes of yours?
One nanosecond of eye contact between Isobel and Keen was all they could manage. Better than nothing, but nowhere close to enough.
Isobel vowed to make them pay! Not amount of caps could pay quite the same demand as the blood, or poison, of revenge and rebellion! Perhaps a dozen pizza parties could to, but Isobel was pretty dead set on taking out the newest president and crippling the Capitol. So, good luck to her with that!
Two things were clear from the moment the tributes were put into the arena, and I'm not talking about how it was painfully obvious the boy from Six had shit himself again.
The first that the typical tribute uniforms – always generally suited for the not so great outdoors and with some form of protection from the worst of the arenas' bipolar weather patterns – had been foregone and replaced with tuxedos for the male tributes and wedding dresses for the girls. The typical colours per District, from avocado green for District One and coal black for District Twelve, were maintained with fancy ties for the boys and sparkly opera gloves for the girls. If there was ever a year to die and look fabulous while doing it, this was indeed that year!
The second was that the arena looked so fearsome you'd hardly need Crohn's Disease to poop your pants! The massive fairy-tale castle, the wondrous woods, the enchanted lake, the fantastical rainbow across the valley… you know what children, perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps the arena was not so much fearsome as it was a sugar bowl of fantasy. It sparkled and gleamed in the fair sunlight like a mother's kiss atop a mountain of sweet dreams.
Oh, and the Cornucopia was full of nasty weapons. Big knives! Short sword! Something that may or may not have been a kusarigama, a collectable set of shuriken's and, of course, spears that just longed to find a home in some poor kid's lower spine.
The gong rang and then it was all like RUN RUN RUN! Oh, but then it started to lightly rain and started getting all wet and soggy. There might have even been mud, but that's only half as bad once blood gets mixed in with it. Muddy blood? Gross!
The couples had all allied, even the ones who were clearly not head over heels in any sense of the term. An ally was an ally, but dead was dead and dead is exactly what several of the couples ended up as! They say people are to be wed until death do them apart and, alas children, love did not live eternally in the grassy clearing between the castle and the forest.
The Sixes had their necks broken in the same instant by the Twos, the Ones stabbed the boys from Ten and Twelve while Fisher and the girl from Seven finished off their wives hardly half a minute later. It was carnage, it was devastation and it was kinda gross as well! Ick!
While this went on other couples were already getting the heck out of that place like it were a public restroom and they had no gas masks! The pair from Eight fled for the castle while the 'just friends' duo from Three ended up legging it towards the lake.
But do we care about them? I sure kind of slightly do! But the real focus of our harrowing story are Porter and Dezz, and boy howdy it was a wonder and a half that they escaped with their lives and without severe loss of limbs or continued existence! I mean, running right into the fray to grab two large backpacks in right in front of the silver horn was just plain crazy! And believe me, I know crazy! But away they went, spears in hand and flocking towards the deep forest like a pair of pixies, or something. With only a few very minor bruises between them that only throbbed a little they sure got off lightly compared to the Sevens who lay upon each other within the horn of plenty, dead from a severe case of broken bodies. It was like if somebody put a watermelon in the car boot, then added a bowling ball and went for a drive across bumpy terrain. It was messy!
The dust settled with six districts eliminated, twelve corpses laying around the grassy clearing, over twenty pints of blood spilt all over the place and many, many thousands of shippers within the Capitol crying their faces off over how their favoured couples had been killed off. The lesson, boys and girls, is that no matter what pairing wins… the shipper lose, and they lose big!
The careers enjoyed the married life for what it was… a blatant way to get extra sponsor support if they acted romantic enough. You might think that sorting the weapons and supplies was impossible to fake a romance with, but you know what children? You're wrong! The Ones posed provocatively to each other, the Twos exchanged halfway decent small talk and the Fours… you got me there, there was nothing going on with the Fours. Fisher was sharpening a spear like some kind of a… spear using person… and the girl from Four, Algae? Well, she showed Fisher her favourite finger, gave a fine farewell and had ran off into the forest screaming like some kind of a lunatic souped up on helium. I mean, whatever works for her right?
Now, as one may have expected, Fisher got quite a lot of teasing for how his new wife had ran off and totally ditched him. In fact, Copper from One joked that this was the second time a girl had ditched Fisher and suggested he take notes from Copper's own 'happy marriage'.
As one might also expect, it took the combined strength of the rest of the career pack to hold Fisher back from killing Copper. How rude! Not to mention kind of crazy. We sure they made a good idea letting him into the alliance? Ok, if you say so…
In the end the careers headed out as the sun started to set, eager to find marriages to ruin by murdering the life out of the grooms and brides involved. Who needs a legal divorce when you can just make death do them part? I mean, they'd probably just be together again in mere minutes if both were killed at once, but eh… what do careers care about technicalities like that?
The arena may have looked rather pleasant and wondrous at a first glance, but children… remember when I told you that the arena was fearsome and all kinds of underwear soiling levels of awful, like a bad Adam Sandler film? Surprise, I wasn't lying after all! When the sun went down in the arena and the night began, horrifying things would happen. Terrible things! It'd be at least ten times worse than stubbing your toe on a vacuum cleaner!
The tributes had no idea what was getting closer with every passing second, but they would see soon. Oh, they would see…
The tributes had spread out reasonably far in the opening hours of the Games and each couple was spending their time in their own unique way. The Ones were hunting for tributes, the Twos were with them and doing the exact same thing… ok, maybe they were not unique but the rest were!
The Fours spent no time together as Fisher was with his alliance, frothing at the mouth in his deep desire to kill Porter, while Algae wandered aimlessly through the gradually darkening forest, about as lost as one of Peter Pan's lost boys. For the record, that's a lot of lostness!
The Threes set up camp by the lake, ever so wise to not risk starting a fire. It was well known that a fire attracted careers in much the same way honey attracted flies. The newlyweds without any sort of benefits had many worries, but at least a source of water was not among them!
The Eights made their way through the halls of the grand fairy tale castle, hand in hand. To them it was just like exploring the kingdoms of the stories told by their mothers. Both ended up settling down in the grand throne room. Such a luxuries seat to take a nap on!
The Fives, the smitten heroes of our story, had the bright idea to get away from the ground like a pair of human shaped birds. They even made a den in a large, abandoned bird nest. A love nest, if you will.
They spent the first part of the night cuddled up in the nest, whispering the sweet nothings of eternity – well, Dexx whispered them anyway – and getting themselves cosy while they still could. With how quiet the arena was at this part of the story it was almost like they could pretend they were on a honeymoon, camping out for the night. I'm not sure what couple would willingly go camping after a wedding, but to each their own. I'd be partial to visit Alaska, so am I any better?
But cuddliness never last long in the arena, children, and as a matter of fact it went well and truly down the road of oblivion as the arena clock struck midnight.
That was when the plot twist of the arena revealed itself! Boom, sha-vroom, bam, surprise!
The arena was a wondrous kingdom of magical goodness in the day, but at night… well, not to sound like a broken record but you'd probably poop yourself just looking at it! The trees became gnarled and gained an odour of sheer death, the lake became an evil black colour and bubbled ever so awfully, the castle would start being all scary and demonic and, to top of the ice cream sundae of pure misery, the rainbow would be replaced by a thick downpour of rain.
It was unpleasant to the point of being really crappy!
The careers were spooked, but overall did not pay it all much mind. They had supplies and deadly weapons. They could handle it, right? Right?
Well, they handled themselves fine on the first night but Algae sure didn't! The poor girl ran screaming through the forest, pursued by some horrible chimera of weeds and a human, inevitably getting caught and being put through a serious case of shredded torso. The weed mutt continued its sheer barbarism long after the cannon fired, far too focused on its sole purpose of destruction to think of doing anything aside mangling the body.
It eventually left an hour later, entirely oblivious to how the Fives had been hiding up the same tree Algae had died by, holding each other in a frozen sort of fear. Tunnel vision, a failing of many a mutt in the era of the Hunger Games, children.
Naturally, Porter and Dezz were quick to pull a Stallion and run the hell out of there!
The nightmarish night went on in the arena, all of the tributes being hassled in some way, shape or form. While the careers made a desperate escape into the castle to evade a few demonic unicorns and the pair from Three suffered the inconvenience of death by angry lake dwelling kraken things were a lot more pleasant in the outside world.
Sure, forced labour at threat of death of a thing and perhaps people were starving, but at least it was a nice summer day, right? Right?
Anyway, on this fine midsummer's day Isobel was on her way back to the mentoring station with new sponsor funds for her tributes. While technically she only needed to watch over Porter, the fact was that Crimson was flooded with all kinds of nasty and awkward appointments, thusly taking her out of the mentoring game and leaving Isobel with all the work. All of it! Yes, even that bit too! It was a good thing that Isobel had kept her physical prowess sharp over the years, karate and all, or she'd drop dead from sheer tiredness I bet!
Isobel wasn't just making her way back to where she was legally required to be sooner than later, or else, no sir! On this day she was scouting out the competition!
On the surface it seemed as thought our hero of a rather mixed reception was watching as Olga effortlessly got sponsor pledges from Capitolites and Crystal working with Harp to get the money needed to buy a few sandwiches – pizza sandwich at that! - for the female tribute of One.
It was true of course, because holy smokes these careers attracted sponsors like a magnet attracts most metals. I'd be jealous if I were a mentor from a considerably less privileged District! But my point isn't Isobel being a Jealous Jill about sponsor hunting.
She was actually scoping out the sort of security that Snow had protecting him around the clock. Everything had a weakness and nothing lasted forever, Isobel knew this! Well, besides Wal-Mart, that'd probably always exist.
Snow was a man who loved power and especially loved showing it off like it were a contest of some sort. He always had plenty of guards around him when out in public, even in his own brand new rose garden. He was in a local steakhouse, enjoying a fine dinner with some of his ministers… and all the peacekeepers around the place, with avoxs there as well and one particularly nasty assassin known only as 'The Grim'. Paranoid headcase or self-aware and prepared, you be the judge. It would be hard indeed to get anything past him, especially a weapon. The attacker would likely be dead before getting close. That was to say nothing of guns; any place he could be sniped was so enclosed that it'd be impractical!
It was a riddle inside an enigma.
Still, Isobel saw the smallest of oversights in his security. Avoxs were able to come and go without the same suspicion that a person of free will, and possessing a tongue, would receive. Snow even drank tea given to him from them like some sort of a tea slurping tea lover! Isobel felt the plan could work with this little oversight.
The problem was, what if Keen died in the attempt of poisoning the tea? Could she really be a stone cold badass rebel and put her lover through such a thing? Or, indeed, any of the so-called traitors whom she sympathised with and the Capitol saw more as dolls or designer handbags than actual people?
She, much like seven in ten kids taking a math test, did not know. But she'd have to decide soon enough, for the only time to strike before another year of waiting was at the after-party of the Games. With only nine tributes left, the clock was ticking! Tick tock, tick tock!
They say time passes in a totally different way inside the arena compared to how it does on the outside. While on the outside the days pass in the snap of a finger and be gone before you know it, inside the arena everything slows down and a day can become an eternity.
Geez, if one day is an eternity then how long does that make the infamously dragged out Forty Fourth Games? Like, a super eternity?
Whether it was an eternity or a super eternity everybody was pretty on edge by the fourth day in the arena. The dreamy days and nightmarish nights that cycled constantly without fail had everybody on edge! They were so on edge that it was like they were sitting on the very edge of a cliff, almost falling off! Ouch! All this and, during the exploration of the magnificent castle, the girl from One had a rather unfortunate encounter with a chandelier trap.
Unfortunate because the chandelier fell on top of her and left as a sitting duck for all the hungry rats that roamed around at night. Horrifying! Gross! But at least the rats liked it, so go them?
The careers soon got into a spot of bother when traps started going off left and right within the castle. It was messier and wilder than a pie eating contest! Fisher and the girl from Two ran one way while the boys from One and Two ran the other. The latter were soon hot on the trail of the newlyweds of Eight, who hadn't done much aside be cute so far.
Hey, cuteness can work.
Fisher, meanwhile, led the ally he still had by his side on a mad hunt for Porter and Dezz. He craved their deaths like a shark craved blood! The girl from Two thought he was a bit doo-lally, but since he wasn't directing it towards her she felt certain she could put up with it for now.
Off went Fisher and his bitter ally in search of the Fives. Where could they be? What state were they in? How loud would they end up screaming?
Well, the answer to the first of those questions that that the Fives had shackled up in a cave beyond the lake at the furthest edges of the arena. Better yet, it was conveniently out of range of the slimy, gross kraken. How about that!
The answer to the second question was that they were in a splendid state. Turns out that being the favoured couple of the Head Gamemaker – though, not enough to both be allowed to leave – earns one and their lover a bit of lovely leniency from the traps and mutts of the arena. The pair were able to quietly snuggle, forage for food and watch the rainstorm in peace.
Obviously it wouldn't last forever, a fact made particular clear when a trio of angry unicorns chased the Fives through the darkness for a terrifying half hour. But even as they ran away, Dezz screaming and Porter silently shaking, Paris could only look at them and swoon.
It didn't get any more romantic than this!
The sixth day in the arena became known as something akin to the beginning of the end. The end of the shipping wars, that is. You know how it goes, you spend so much time caring for a pairing, watching their bond grow and expecting so much mastery payoff and then they suddenly die and you're all like 'why would you do that you stupid writer? Here, take a fist to your face, fatty!'
That was the reaction of several Capitol citizens when the boys from One and Two, armed to the teeth and toes, cornered the Eights upon the top of the castle's highest tower. It seemed as though love was doomed to die… but! But! Buuuuuuut!
Ok, no fooling around, love died. But it did not die with a whimper, not this year! The boy threw down an oil lantern he just so happened to have pilfered and the girl yanked a lit torch from the side of the tower, tossing it down. They held hands tightly, sharing one last gaze as they allowed themselves to fall off the tower.
It was kinda gross and left lots of mess for the hovercraft to clean up when all was said and done. But as fate would have it the fire mercifully meant there was little mess to be collected from what remained of the boy from Two. The fire took care of that just fine. What a good little fire! Of course, this also had the side effect of killing one half of the District Two pair and making more shippers cry. Alas!
At around the time the boy from One fell from the tower, badly burnt, and miraculously landed in a wagon of hay, Porter and Dezz were quickly on the move in hopes of getting out of the rain. Porter had caught a cold by now and Dexx had sprained an ankle while running from the mutts.
It was a wonder, if you ask me, that Porter hadn't tripped. Let it be known, children, that wedding dresses are not made for running in!
The rain came down, down, down and yet they ran, ran, ran! Both of the star crossed lovers expected mutts, or worse, now that only five tributes were still alive.
They ran right towards the castle, bolting for the entrance in spite of the burning tower. The lower levels seemed safe enough, so why not risk it and not end up with something worse than the common cold. Rain is pain, children!
Time may pass slow in the arena, but life happens fast. So does the ever sombre opposite.
One moment Porter was pointing out the paintings on the wall to Dezz, silent enthusiasm for the wondrous portraits that told a thousand words in just one simple image.
The next moment she twisted around sharply as footsteps echoed right behind her, accidently spearing the half-mad boy from One from the simple force of her turn.
Porter was very, very sad that night, children. She recoiled as the burnt, battered, beefy boy collapsed and, if it were possible for a mute to do so, she went quieter than ever. Some people don't take well to the knowledge that they're a murderer.
It was a very quiet night in the castle dungeons, save for Dezz's valiant efforts at reassuring Porter that it was not her fault. It had been an accident, hadn't it? He did have to die for them to reach the top two, did he not?
Alas, Porter did not cheer up and in spite of their efforts to keep going with the guise of being a happily newlywed couple… the honeymoon period had ended.
The couple remained down in the dungeon for most of the storm night. The only time they ventured out was to watch the anthem, with it coming the realisation they were the only couple still alive to share holy matrimony together.
The shippers of the Fives rejoined! There were parties in the streets, in fact! The shippers of the other pairs sulked all night long.
The Gamemakers, meanwhile, lacked any real attachment and awaited the orders from Paris to target any of the tributes with the worst of tortures. It was night time after all and the monsters were lurking.
They lurked deep in the forest.
They lurked within the lake.
They lurked in every dark shadow of the castle.
The wedded couple worked as one, sending those castle dwelling demons off to their deaths with a jolly good spear stab and back to back cohesion. It was glorious!
Fisher and the girl from Two also managed to fight off every mutt that came their way. The girl from Two remained behind Fisher, content to use throwing knives to get the job done.
Fisher, meanwhile, was a total Stabby McStabberson with his trust spear. He was mad like a bull! It probably didn't help that the cave he and his ally stayed at was the same one previously inhabited by the Fives.
Fisher didn't miss how, scribbled onto the cave's wall in chalk was the short phrase D/P within a heart.
The cameras didn't miss how pi-MAD he was. The nation bore full witness to his volatile and violent fits of anger, the rage not passing even when all of the mutts in the nearby area had been killed.
Legend tells that a sponsor arrived containing a snickers, the note suggesting he was being a 'right diva' due to being hungry and suggesting he take a bite.
Fisher snarled, his ally giggled and the nation as a whole haw-haw'd.
The Games played out for another two whole days without any deaths, or even notable injuries. Mainly because Paris just could not get enough of her favourite pairing. The love between the Fives was like crack to her! The most glorious crack around!
The Fives were oblivious to this, of course, and made the most of the time they still had to spend with each other. Star gazing from a tower's peak, dining on what they could fine in the castle's kitchen, playing a particularly childish game of dress-up with the king and queen outfits… for as long as the Gamemakers would allow it they simply wanted to ensure their relationship. Their marriage. Their togetherness.
Lucky for them that the Head Gamemaker was more addicted to romance than a man in rehab is addicted to all the good stuff!
Fisher, meanwhile, was a man on a rampage. He showed the world who was boss by tearing the grass, punching the trees, kicking the stones and stabbing his spear at mid-air. It was apparent by now that the boy was entirely sane, though not enough so to ban him from victory.
The girl from Two just followed him a tune, finding the whole display a strange mixture of embarrassing and impossible to turn away from. Much like a street magician who has no idea how to do magic when one thought about it.
Of course, a love triangle can only have three members and Paris had become particularly fixated on ensuring a showdown between the lovers and the vicious ex. It was sure to be a bigger spectacle than anything that could be seen on cable TV! But how to dispose of a tribute from Two?
Two was the suck-up District and couldn't be dumped like a run off the mill Twelve, children.
The problem solved itself halfway through day eight. Fisher grew tired of the career girl's talking, always 'calm down' this and 'what does it matter, she's moved on from you' that. One moment the girl stood speaking, the next she lay on the ground with her tongue torn out and her throat speared.
Paris opened up a bottle of champagne, rather pleased that she was to get the showdown she wanted. It was like every single day of her life – getting everything that she wanted.
She could have the finale start right away… or, children, she could indulge herself in more of her romantic fantasies. As you listeners probably guessed, she picked the latter and had the Gamemakers use some fairly weak mutts and a strong blast of wind to send Fisher away from the castle.
Blood could be spilt any time. Romance time was running out!
District Five cheered on their tributes like a pack of cheerleaders. The odds were in their favour, but all dreaded to think of what would happen when one of their tributes died. Surely they could not both live when it came down to it, whatever that dastardly Fisher did. For so called cheerleaders they weren't wholly cheerful.
District Four… honestly were a bit unsure how to feel when all was said and done. And let me tell you, children, a lot had already been said and done! Fisher was a bit of a headcase and a half, true, but he was still their last tribute and had battled hard. Maybe harder than he needed. Dexx meant little to them, as anybody could have guessed, but Porter… what was she? What would happen if she won?
Remember, children, she was originally from Four. Would her win go to the District she legally came from… or the one she'd made her true home? Time would tell what the answer would be, or if her tale simply ends in blood and gore. That's always an outcome and never a pleasant one!
The audience watched, hardly able to wait and find out what the answer might be.
Things came to a clash on the tenth day of the games, and it was the clash of the decade! At least depending on which Hunger Games fan you asked. Some would say Librae's Games had the better finale, others would claim the unlikely girl who stood triumphant in the Fortieth had the better finale, slow as it was. But stats were generally halfway towards somewhat reliable and they showed people enjoyed the end of the Thirty Eighth Games.
Darkness descended much earlier that day and all of the horrors came out to play. The game they wanted to play? Tribute murdering. It was a game that mutts were well adept at, especially when you realised that was their sole reason to exist.
Demonic unicorns that were partly melted and on fire, a tentacled horror that always stuck partly to the shadows, nasty cupid demons with bows and sharp arrows, balloon beasts with fangs and evil eyes and even a few moss men like the one that killed Algae were all unleashed at once.
Porter and Dezz ran helter.
Fisher ran skelter.
The grassy ground shrivelled away until only a horrible mudland remained. Aside the squelchy, slimy, sickly ground that looked like the innards of a septic tank the only other thing laying around were clusters of rocks. It was like somebody replaced all the fairy tales with a muddy toolbox… of death!
Right from the start the battle was pure chaos. Porter kept slipping all over the place, silently landing into a messy heap over and over. Fisher ranted and raved sounds that most would be hard pressed up call an actual language, even Pig Latin. Dezz kept batting Fisher's spear thrusts away with his own spear, struggling to keep himself standing.
Lighting filled the sky! It was all like BOOM BOOYA-KASHA! Fisher was all like 'Die! Die! Die!', all the stress of the Games and the hatred filling his heart from the years in Four prior to all this coming out explosively. Dezz was all like 'Porter, this guy is a total madman!' and then Porter, well, she was silent but the look in her eyes was all like 'really dear? What was your first clue, Sherlock'?
Porter tried to make one powerful lunge towards Fisher with her spear, but the funny thing about mud? It's slippery! She slipped right into his fist, like BAM! It sent Porter fall backwards right upon a rock.
A crack was heard and it wasn't just the bags of crack a few of the gamblers in the Capitol were opening, goodness no. Porter suffered a rather unfortunate spinal injury! She was rocked and then she rolled right down to the base of the mud hill, letting out the saddest near-silent wheeze in pretty much the history of forever.
One look at his wounded bride bought a fire out in Dezz, the valiant guy of some vague status tackling Fisher down hard enough to bust a full rib and a half! But again, mud is slippery! Dezz and Fisher rolled down and down and down to the base of the hill, more dirty and bruised than some awful roadkill that probably smells like feet and pee.
Porter weakly looked up in spite of her rather severe case of agony just in time to see Fisher smash Dezz's head against a rock several times. The third hit was enough, but the sixth crossed into overkill territory. Her husband lay almost dead, no hope left for him! Fisher, you rude bastard, how could you?!
That last part was basically what all of the Porter and Dezz supporters within the Capitol were thinking, by the way.
Porter silently sobbed, writhing in great pain as she lay broken upon the mud. Fisher was pretty battered himself. Much like a fish, in some way or another. Fish or not, Fisher was resilient enough to stagger over to Porter and snarl out contemptuous words of sheer contempt as he readied himself to kill her.
Say it with me now… mud is slippy!
Fisher slipped right over like a fool, almost impaling himself on the way down. Silly as he looked and beaten as he was, he still had one thing over Porter. His back was not busted. Heavy is the crown, children, and it seemed like Fisher was all but certain to wear it in a matter of minutes!
He also wore a rather thick serving of mud across his face, courtesy of the girl laying broken in the muddy mire. Fisher slipped over again and soon it was just like old times for the ex-couple. Plenty of kicking and punching, but with a plot twist! Porter was fighting back and even with her nasty wound she gave it her all! Bam, bam and pow!
The cannon fired as Dezz died, the final marriage of the arena dying with him. Fisher was keen to briefly brag over this between punches, snarling and coughing out all kinds of gross spittle. It was nasty!
Porter was unable to get up or even walk right now, but there was still one thing she could do. Legend tells that it was a secret fighting move passed on from the dawn of time, a finisher that could quell any male in history.
She punched Fisher in the crotch with what little adrenaline she had left.
Fisher fell down in a daze, like he'd had a few pints too many. It gave Porter the chance she needed to drag her broken, pained and in-need-of-a-bath body right on top of Fisher to hold him down against the mud. It was a mud bath to die for… literally!
Fisher eventually stopped twitching and the glorious trumpets sang their song. Porter leaned close to the ear of the dead young man who'd caused her more misery than even the guy who tried to stab and mug her that one time. It was then that the nation finally heard the normally silent girl speak… and oh man, what words they were!
"I'm breaking up with you" she hissed, to the applause of just about everybody. Seriously, you couldn't walk ten paces and not come across somebody cheering!
A few seconds of speaking turned into hours and hours of silent sobbing. Porter stood… err, lay triumphant as the last one standing, but alas, it meant that Dezz could not leave alongside her. They came so close and lost it all. It was a trend that would be seen time and again in the Hunger Games. Just like the trend of victors leaving the arena looking like a broken barbie doll!
It was what a wise man – can't remember his name, so let's just call him Bob – once said. Victory can sometimes feel like failure. Sounds about right, I guess?
So Dezz ended up dying and Porter was left alone and sad once again. But you know what they say, when life gives you potatoes you make potato salad. Porter just needed to figure out what those potatoes were. Her present was pretty dead, but so too was the last remnant of her past that had persistently hung around like some kind of bad smell, like old gym socks. The future was unclear, but it remained open and in the realm of being possible.
After all, Porter was not dead.
On the other hand, Snow… well, he almost joined the dead at the after-party, so very almost! Keen added the poison tablet into the tea undetected. Isobel set up an alibi and stayed away from the general vicinity of Snow, instead spending her evening keeping a careful watch over Porter. The girl was in little state to party.
She did, after all, have to sit in a wheelchair and wear a neck brace for the foreseeable future. Turns out falling back first on a rock is bad for a growing girl's health. Who ever knew?
Bronze was distracted by Crimson and none of the Peacekeeper guards were trained medics. What, or who, could possibly save Snow when he drank the tainted tea?
Well, it would appear Snow was something of a life hacker, children. He kept at least ten antidotes on him at any given time and managed to save himself. Sure, the nasty choking fit left him rather dazed and more than a little alarmed, but the powerful man managed to keep himself on the mortal coil.
Isobel was disappointed, but not ready to give up. It was merely the first attempt and she already had plans for what to do next. She's teach Snow a lesson, and then kill him!
But Snow wasn't about to let that happen, children. Once the lockdown was ended and the party resumed he already had a plan in mind. One that he knew would be the bee's knees!
He beckoned over his trusted Assassin, 'the Grim', and whispered a request to him. He had no proof, only a hunch to go off of, but his hunches had never been wrong before. One nod from his loyal man had him relax right away. What could he have been planning?
If you guessed 'something bad'… what, you want a medal? Anybody could've guessed that one!
The train ride home to District Five was sombre, full of sheer anxiety and more than a lot of dismay. Why, you may ask? Well, aside the typical grief and pain that most victors would feel – unless they were truly incapable of empathy like the beast of the Forty First Games! – it was at this time the Capitol had done something they were all too known for doing.
Changing the rules, spitting at the Districts and making the shape of an L on their foreheads. Porter may have been spared in part due to the way the nation loved her now utterly broken relationship with Dezz, but she still illegally went from Four to Five.
The answer was obvious on what to do. Be total dicks! Porter was permitted to stay in District Five and was officially added to their victor count, but as the citizenship records at the exacta time of her victory claimed her as a resident of District Four… well, that's where all the riches and parcels would be going. Four was fairly cheerful, Five was pi-MAD and it all but ensured a rather nasty divide was gonna be starting between the Districts and was sure to not end any time soon.
Porter wiped away a tear, a broken flower of a girl, having wanted none of this. She'd only wanted to be happy.
Isobel let out a sigh of her own. She'd only wanted Snow dead.
Crimson silently poured herself a drink, shuddering. She only wanted to be left alone.
If you thought our tale ended here… wrong-a-mundo, children! That night there was a further stoke of carnage and I'm not talking about the one that broke out between exactly twenty three drug gangs in District Six!
The train stopped for refuelling, rather unscheduled. As it remained stationary Porter was wheeled off to bed by Crimson. Both wanted nothing more than to check into the land of dreams and not have to give another damn about their painful lives for at least a few hours.
Isobel, meanwhile, hatched another plan to put into motion next year. It was crazy, but maybe… just maybe… it might work. I mean, the stock market is a risk and that sometimes pays off, so why not this new idea?
Alas, children, nobody would ever know just what Isobel's plan was going to be and how it may have helped the rebels.
The window at the side of the train shattered to bits as a particularly well made bullet whizzed through.
Right into Isobel's head. Ouch, ouch and ouch again! She died before she even knew it, silently collapsing to the ground like how a young girl may drop an unfavoured doll.
The train soon picked up, screams of the two remaining victors of District Five filling the night alongside those of the train staff who had frankly not a faint flicker of an idea what had just happened. It left the area fast, like WHOOSH VROOM! Fast enough to completely miss any traces of the beastly man who calmly set down his particularly sleek and deadly bolt action sniper rifle.
With a dark, brooding voice that almost any aspiring street brute would be proud of he spoke into a transmitter.
'Target eliminated' he said, clear and concise like a total boss… guy. 'She's with the Avox in death."
Legend says that Snow's smirk lasted a full five minutes that night.
And so, our tale comes to its end. Porter, the girl of two districts and one destroyed marriage made it home with a free neck brace souvenir – jealous much? – and Isobel's mentoring, and rebellious rebellion, was given a totally free of charge bullet.
I would say that the moral to this story is honestly quite clear. Always wear a helmet that is at least seventy six percent bullet proof! Oh, and marriages in the Hunger Games usually do not work. Celebrity marriages, they never last do they?
Katniss and Peeta held their silence for Porter, soon ending it and moving further down the street.
"Well, whatever the story is with her name, good on her for making it out of the arena alive," Katniss said.
Peeta silently nodded as they walked ten paces ahead. Both of them looked at the face imprinted onto the sidewalk, recognition filling their eyes after reading the name beneath it. The boy looked youthful but with a jaded look suggesting him to be wise beyond his years. His thick, fuzzy looking hair was contained within a headscarf.
"Rhyder Overwhill," Peeta read, carefully.
Peeta and Katniss turned to exchange a knowing sort of glance.
"He'd be the son of Baron and Runa," Katniss said, speaking for both of them.
There we go, Porter Tripp and her rather interesting tale! The world of Panem has certainly moved on a bit in this chapter, what with another victor biting it and the inevitable reactions from that happening. I feel mixed on how it turned out personally. I liked the arcs and twists I came up with, but I kinda felt around halfway through that… eh, the way it was narrated may have been a touch overdone, or possibly made it harder to relate to Porter? Though by that point I was so deep in that I didn't really want to start over, you know? I guess the lesson is that black comedy is a tricky business. Still, I think I did alright giving an identity to one of the most forgotten canon victors. So yeah, that was Porter Tripp, the mute girl of two districts and whom was married within the tribute building. Thanks for reading and I hope you liked this one. Stay tuned for more!
Stats
District 1: Peridot Gaudy (8th Games), Crystal McCree (14th Games), Bronze Marley (19th Games), Crown Martins (24th Games), Dollar Dettwieller (32nd 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), Dragon Batofel (27th Games)
District 3: Honorius Perthshire (5th Games), Pi Orbit (22nd Games), Beetee Latier (37th Games)
District 4: Museida Selkirk (3rd Games), Mags Flanagan (11th Games), Tide Luther (23rd Games), Librae Ogilvy (35th Games)
District 5: Shunt Gaspar (12th Games), Isobel Sparks (18th Games), Crimson Flanders (29th Games), Porter Tripp (38th Games)
District 6: Chassis Macalister (31st Games)
District 7: Pliny Aransio (2nd Games), Fir Buzz (9th Games), Jack Tylos (21st Games), Snag Nakamura (34th Games)
District 8: Woof Casino (16th Games), Paige Murphy (30th Games)
District 9: Mizar Aldjoy (1st Games), Gwenith Rosebud (13th Games), Teff Withers (28th Games), Laurel Flamsteel (36th Games)
District 10: Stallion March (26th Games)
District 11: Bear Redfoot (15th Games), Seeder Howell (33rd Games)
District 12: Duke Saint-Rose (6th Games)