Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Note: From one canon victor to another, let's give it up for Brutus! With a name like that and the fact he was eager to be in the arena a second time all the signs suggest a bloodthirsty tribute nobody would want to mess with. But is that really true? Well… yes, lol, yes it is. But perhaps there's more to Brutus than the, let's be real, not-exactly-ideal-screentime canon gave us would suggest? Let's see what my crazy brain cooked up this time~.
"They say he was the ultimate career," Peeta said, gazing at Brutus' face upon the sidewalk. "Or at least one of the absolute strongest tributes who ever got out of the arena with his life."
"And yet you were able to beat him," Katniss noted, slightly awed. "That makes you the strongest, doesn't it? I mean, you beat the strongest so-."
"Don't compliment me. Not for… that," Peeta took a few moments to deeply breathe in and out. "It was strange. He wasn't fighting like he was early on… he seemed erratic. Something was different."
"…Poison?" Katniss guessed.
"I have no idea," Peeta replied.
The pair were silent for a few long, morbid moments.
"The worst thing is he seemed pretty approachable and chill in the training centre," Peeta said, distant. "I never, not for a moment, thought I'd end up… killing him."
"…I never thought I'd kill Gloss," Katniss replied. "Nor anybody."
The pair went silent.
49th Annual Hunger Games
Name: Brutus Gunn
Gender: Male
District: 2
Age: 18
Kills: 11
Nine Victors from Two and a Time Brutus Made Each Of Them Happy
(And one time he pissed President Snow off…)
MERCY
The time that followed that Forty Eighth Hunger Games was hardly pleasant for many. Not for Twelve. Not for Eleven nor Ten either. Not even for the winning District, what with how Five detested Neon and accused the gamemakers of outright rigging it into his favour.
District Two were a nasty blend of furious and miserable. They never enjoyed losing, but this had been their most awful loss in many years. Even moreso than the year Chassis had won the Games, and accidently killed Boris and Boudicca, in under six hours.
This time they'd lost both of their tributes and one of their precious victors as well. Not just any victor, but it was their quell winner. One who'd won a Games like no other.
Olga was sour from the defeat and the terrible events she couldn't understand how the Capitol had failed to prevent. She dealt with it the best way she knew how; slashing up dummies made to resemble Chassis and working the cadets for next year's Hunger Games even harder than she already did.
Mercy was simply depressed. She knew they hadn't gotten the full story, something Olga was blind to, but had no means to acquire the truth. All she knew was that she'd lost her friend who shared her view of how awful the Games were, had little to no status within Two for how she worked with a tribute from Six and wished she never volunteered.
Rhyder was there for her, of course, but recently he'd been kept incredibly busy with taking cadets on cross country runs and climbing trips. All unwilling, all forced.
All this was why, two weeks before the reaping for the Forty Ninth Hunger Games, Mercy was sitting on the stone steps at the front of the main building that made up Machete Ridge. She sighed, miserable. Nobody was ever around at this time of night.
It was exactly as she'd wanted it.
"What really happened to you?" Mercy asked, gazing skywards. "I miss you Verci…"
"You don't look yourself, Miss Gregor. What's wrong?"
Mercy glanced beside her as one of the cadets of Machete Ridge sat down beside her. It only took a moment to know who this boy was. His muscles, reputation and signature bald head made it hard to mistake Brutus Gunn, the top ranked volunteer in line for the boys, for anybody else.
"Oh, hi Brutus," Mercy said. Despite only being three years older than Brutus the gap truthfully felt like much more. "Just thinking…"
"About what?" Brutus asked.
"…Just stuff," Mercy replied, glancing off to the side. "Why do you ask?"
"You victors are heroes. Proof our district is doing things right. Doing its duty," Brutus replies, like he were talking about the weather. "If you're feeling upset, it's my duty to find out why and see if I might be able to help."
The Games will turn Brutus into a killer just like the rest of them, assuming he's not already just like one, is what Mercy thought. Mercy rather hoped Brutus wouldn't stop being a gentleman when the gong went off and he killed some poor miner from Twelve or a druggie from Six.
"I'm fine, really," Mercy insisted.
"You're lying," Brutus noted. "My dad's a peacekeeper, Miss Gregor. He's taught me all the tells of somebody who is lying."
"…Ok, fine, I'm upset," Mercy gestured to the land beyond Machete Ridge and the direction of the far away tribute graveyard. "I was thinking about Vercingetorix."
"Tragic, that was," Brutus snorted, disgusted. "What happened to him was nothing short of demonic. It was wrong. The Capitol, for the first and only time, really let us down."
"Sssshh! People might hear you!" Mercy glanced around, like she expected peacekeepers or Olga herself to show up. "You could get yourself expelled, or worse. I appreciate your words, but my happiness isn't worth-."
"It is," Brutus said, confident. "You're a victor. A shining beacon for all of us to admire and learn from. You showed us a new way to get the job done, one I'd not considered before. I think I can risk my standing to help you feel better."
Brutus let out a rather deep sounding chuckle.
"Besides, my reaction times are pretty good. I could easily volunteer first even if Olga took my slot away," Brutus let out another boyish snicker. "Nobody tells me 'no'. Not even the strongest victor we've got."
"But... you respect her, right?" Mercy asked.
"More than anybody," Brutus replied, practically beaming. "…Doesn't mean I have to always listen."
The pair sat together in silence for a short while. Brutus was content to just sit and watch fireflies that saw fit to fly around the pair. Mercy, meanwhile, considered what her next words would be. She was starting to like the new male tribute.
"You know Brutus… you're not a bad guy. Thanks for just, you know, sitting with me," Mercy said, faintly smiling. "It helps."
"It's my sworn duty," Brutus replied, saluting. "Can't be having a women cry, least of all a victor."
"My, my, aren't you a gentleman," Mercy noted, smirking. "…I feel like we did not get the full truth of what happened to Vercingetorix."
"Maybe not. But what can we do?" Brutus asked, shrugging. "I mean, besides live. Winning means a lifetime of status, peace and dreams coming true. Vercingetorix had that taken away from him. After he fought so hard in that garbage dump… it's a disgrace. We're still here… in his name, let's live life to the fullest."
"How do you plan to do that?" Mercy asked, curious.
"Becoming a victor as well and being the total life of the party," Brutus replied, grinning widely. "And, you know, maybe growing in some hair. We'll see how wild I feel."
Mercy couldn't stop herself from laughing. Brutus' smirk only seemed to widen further.
"There's what I like to see, a laughing victor. Nailed it!" Brutus cheered, or rather yelled.
"I hope you make it back, I really do," Mercy said, trying to reign back her laughter.
"I plan to, don't worry about it. A plan of mine has never gone wrong," Brutus said, brimming with confidence. "So, what'll you do? I mean, how will you live life… in our fallen friend's name?"
"I'm not sure, exactly… but I'll live it well. That's a promise," Mercy vowed. "I'll certainly do my best to help the children of Two."
"I'd say you already have," Brutus replied, getting up to leave.
"How so?" Mercy replied.
Brutus gave her one last look before he left for the dorms. A rare look of genuine gratitude.
"The girl you volunteered for was my little sister," was all he said.
BARON
It had been a lovely night out for Baron and his beloved wife. A quiet outing to their favourite restaurant they'd attended together ever since their first date decades ago. Even after all this time they never tired even a little of the food served at The Sacred Stone.
They never tired of each other either. Some people seemed just made for each other. Many a passer-by would claim that Baron and Runa were so obvious about being in love that they didn't even have to make it remotely clear at all.
"So, how's the birthday boy feeling?" Runa asked, smiling fondly.
"Pretty good, pretty good," Baron replied, content. "Good food, great entertainment, perfect wife… really, what could make this day any better?"
"A bit of peace and quiet?" Runa suggested, chuckling.
"After all these years we might get some. Rhyder said he and the other victors are going bowling or something. We'll have the village to ourselves," Baron said, a smirk on his face. "You know what that means for us, dear?"
"Oh, I think I do," Runa said, her expression matching that of her husband. "Nobody to bother us when we play video games."
"Right you are. Super Smash Victors all night?" Baron suggested, laughing softly.
"Of course," Runa agreed. "First one home gets to play as Chassis!"
And so the race began. The elderly pair lacked the energy they'd had back in their younger years, a fact made clear by how their running was less of a sonic speed dash and more of a brisk walk, but the laughter shared made it seem as though no time had gone by at all.
The pair eventually had to slow down to a walk to keep their breath from truly leaving them. They entered the village side by side and approached the front door of their shared mansion-esque home. Right before reaching the door Runa lunged forwards and tapped the doorknob.
"Hey!" Baron complained playfully. "That was cheap!"
"No, dear. That was me earning the right to play as Chassis," Runa replied, sticking her tongue out.
"So immature. I thought you were sixty seven?" Baron replied, taking out the house keys.
"You're only ever as young as you feel," Runa replied, smiling.
The lock clicked and the door was swiftly open. Baron had to pause for a brief moment, glancing sideways at his wife.
"Was our house always this dark when the lights are off?" Baron asked.
Runa shrugged, unsure. Baron reached for the light switch, casually flicking it into the on position.
"SURPRISE!"
Baron had no time to reflexively assume a battle stance or swear in shock. Several of the other victors and the cadets from the academy had leapt into view, banners hung up saying 'Happy Birthday Baron' and related things. Rhyder beamed at his parents, having been one of two masterminds behind the surprise party for his beloved dad.
The other was Brutus and he'd already managed to screw it up. What was meant to be a dramatic slide down the bannisters, a double front flip and holding out a cake for Two's legend of a first victor (Brutis insisted he'd done this trick four times for his own father) had gone slightly wrong.
Mainly as Brutus fell off the banister, landed in a heap and went face first into the cake.
"…Blub…" was all he was able to say, spitting a piece of cake out.
Baron practically howled with laughter, doubling over and wiping away a tear of complete, utter mirth. The party started in earnest after that, Baron remarking that he expected Brutus to do that again next year.
It was meant as a joke and yet Brutus did it ten years in a row. Baron never stopped finding it funny.
DRAGON
Dragon tended to find the bloodbath to be the most exciting part of any Hunger Games and would never, under any circumstances, miss the opening free for all by the silver horn of plenty.
He claimed even a visit from the grim reaper would not stop him. The skeleton with the scythe would have to shut up and wait until the cannons fired.
This year he was on mentor duty alongside Olga and, as Olga had laid claim to Brutus from the very start, it left Dragon to mentor the female tribute, a top scoring Machete Ridge graduate by the name of Xoey. A formidable enough girl, Dragon figured.
He'd see if he was right to believe so once the countdown came to an end. He knew this year was going to be a real mess.
Mainly due to all the mud. The arena was basically a mudland that spread out over eight square miles, the only other notable terrain aside the tons and tons of mud being boulders, occasional mossy growths and the cornucopia itself.
As he always did Dragon let out an excited holler as the gong rang. He could hardly contain his glee as the tributes made the charge for the cornucopia, Brutus easily leading the way. The mud was simply unable to slow him down.
"Go! Go! Go!" Dragon cheered, fist pumping. "Kick some ass!"
"Be professional," Olga muttered, her gaze firmly upon the screen.
"Why? We can't do anything to help them until the cannons fire. No sponsors allowed yet," Dragon replied, watching as Brutus grabbed hold of a large war hammer.
Dragon was left in complete awe as he watched Brutus going right to work with his new weapon. Sure, the Ones and the girl from Four were careers too and had no issues starting to attack the weaker outliers who scrambled through the mud in search of supplies, but Brutus was something else entirely.
He was a killing machine!
Districts Eleven and Nine were both effortlessly eliminated by him before the first minute was over. All it took was a sweep kick to down the Nines and then bringing down the hammer to their skulls. It was much the same for the Elevens.
"Yeah! Go Brutus!" Dragon whooped, ignoring Gwenith's sobbing, Mizar's weary sigh, Bear's growl and Seeder's no doubt cold glare sent to the back of his head. "Aw snap, duck!"
Brutus waited until the last moment to duck the stab of the boy from Five, a small kid who'd tried to kill Brutus with an axe. By then the boy was too close to back away as Brutus whirled around and smashed him apart with hid heavy hammer.
Dragon was so entranced by the ferocious effort put on by Brutus that he missed the moment where the girl from Six managed to cut Xoey's arm and splatter blood into the wound. The mechanic was killed only a moment later, but the damage had been done. The mud had entered Xoey's bloodstream.
Dragon didn't notice that. He was too entranced by the way Brutus had forced the boy from Twelve to his knees and, ignoring the boy's screams, swung the war hammer like a baseball bat and sent the miner's head flying over three hundred yards to the north. The cannons fired as the head hit the mud.
"Home run!" Dragon cheered, applauding loudly. "Best bloodbath ever!"
Thirteen cannons fired, six of them caused by Brutus. Dragon watched the careers start to sort their supplies and wipe the mud off of themselves. He'd not felt this happy after watching a bloodbath in years!
RHYDER
It was a situation like none before it. A Hunger Games with only the victors taking part within it. Some, like Mercy, were at least glad that all the little kids were spared for this one year. Others, like Rook, saw the whole thing as a complete farce and a personal betrayal.
Dragon was just annoyed that due to recently breaking his leg he would be unable to volunteer for it. He was not that suicidal.
Brutus stood without any notable feelings being expression. He was seemingly completely stoic, his arms firmly crossed and his stance incredibly strong. He gave off no sort of fear, not for a moment.
What was there to fear? He'd made his choice about this almost as soon as the twist had been revealed months ago.
"Not me, not me…" Rhyder whispered from his spot beside Brutus. "Not again…"
Brutus leaned slightly closer to his best friend, lightly nudging his shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. It was a strnage sort of bond they had; Rhyder was older, but for all intends and purposes was the younger in their brotherly bond. Brutus was just that formidable and, well, seriously bulky.
"You'll be fine," Brutus assured him. "They'll probably just pick somebody more recent. Maybe Magnus?"
Brutus felt confident that he was correct. Realistically, why would they pick Rhyder? He'd been out of the spotlight for years. It was all about the younger victors now… though Brutus would admit to feeling annoyed there'd been a fair drought of victors recently. Cato had been so close.
He figured he could make it two ranks further once again if his name got pulled. Whatever happened, it wouldn't be Rhyder going into the arena.
"Rhyder Overwhill!"
'Aw fuck.'
Rhyder started to walk towards the stage, balling his fists. He breathed deeply and controlled, likely already running over various plans in his head for how he might survive. Being the son of the victor who, if perhaps by accident, started career tributes being a thing didn't endear him to many outliers, whether tribute or victor.
Especially victor these days. He'd have a very tough time evading a nasty death. Or, he would have, had Brutus not already known what he was going to do if any of the other men were reaped.
"I volunteer!" Brutus yelled, pounding his chest for effect.
The crowd went absolutely wild as Brutus marched towards the stage with almost a spring in his step. He wasn't remotely scared and it showed. All the nation would see was a confident man ready for glory and honourable combat.
Brutus didn't give a shit about all that. He just gave Rhyder a friendly nod. One look at his stunned silence of relief confirmed to him he'd made the correct decision.
In the judgement building all of the victors came to see him off, Rhyder being the last one. No sooner had the doors closed Rhyder took Brutus into a bear hug.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Rhyder whispered.
He then dope slapped Brutus. The burly victor-turned-tribute hardly seemed to even notice this.
"What were you thinking?" Rhyder asked, his voice very light. "Brutus, this isn't 'child's play' anymore. This is the best of the best. You could seriously…"
"Break Pasture's kill record once and for all? Be the ultimate victor of victors? Yeah, I could," Brutus cracked his knuckles loudly. "They should be the ones getting worried, Rhy."
Rhyder stared, starting to look torn between confusion and horror.
"That's what I'll say anyway. They know how loyal I am, but I doubt I'll be able to put more than a toe out of line before I'm on the same level as the Everdeen girl," Brutus paused to shoot Rhyder a smirk. "You didn't believe that, right? Of course I was gonna volunteer for you. For any of you; I'm the one most likely to make it back, we all know it."
"Can't argue that," Rhyder agreed. "Just be careful Brutus. I don't want you dying."
"I'm pretty sure I won't. But if I do, just be a favour. Live life as well as you can," Brutus gestured to the window with his head. "Plenty of women out in that world. Not too late to settle with one of them."
"You're such a… I don't even know," Rhyder said, starting to laugh.
The pair shared a bro-hug in the short while they had before it was time to board the tribute train. Only them and One were even permitted family goodbyes; the rest were just getting forced to the trains right away. The pair made the time count, making plans for the Games, ideas for alliances and Brutus even agreed, if a little begrudgingly, to play nice with the Twelves in training. It was never bad to not be at the top of somebody's killing list.
Brutus was as loyal to the Capitol as Rhyder was the opposite. But it wouldn't stop them being best mates.
Even Brutus' death at Peeta's hands after his weakening via a poisoned cleat less than two weeks later wouldn't stop them being best mates.
BOULDER
Boulder could only grumble. This always happened after a party was held in his house, always. He never saw who was actually doing it, only that he knew they'd been doing this for years now.
They'd put his stuff on the highest shelves he never normally used. Mainly as he couldn't reach them.
"Come on, come on!" Boulder tried to jump up, climb up and even throw a book to knock the shelf down. Alas, nothing worked. "Fucking dammit!"
Boulder kicked the wall in irritation. This, too, accomplished absolutely nothing.
It did, however, get Brutus' attention as he walked by outside Boulder's house.
"Yo, you ok Boulder?" Brutus asked, sticking his head through the window.
"Oh hey Brutus. Yeah, I'm fine really. Just kinda annoyed," Boulder paused to gesture to the shelf above him. "I threw a party for a few pals last night and they put something of mine up there. I can't reach it."
Brutus smirked, seeing a chance to be useful. Before Boulder had a chance to react Brutus had climbed through his window, almost getting stuck in the process.
"There was a door," Boulder said, flatly.
"Waste of time when you have a perfectly good window," Brutus replied, shrugging. "Anyway, you're in luck. I'm an expert at being tall."
Boulder just gave Brutus a flat sort of expression. Brutus snickered, reaching for the object on the high shelf that Boulder had wanted.
"Here you go… hey, wait a minute," Brutus looked at the object in wonder. "…Is this a Gameboy? Holy shit Boulder, I thought these all got broken in the Dark Days!"
"All besides mine," Boulder replied, smirking. "Found it down the quarry mines I worked in as a teenager. No idea how it got there, but I smuggled it out and claimed ownership."
"Does it still work?" Brutus asked, awed.
"Does a fish swim?" Boulder stated. "Sure it does, turn it on."
Brutus did so, watching in amazement as the ancient screen flickered into life and displayed a rather old sort of game. For a moment it seemed the 'Mudman of the 49th' was speechless, mesmerised by the sight.
"…Can I play on this?" Brutus asked.
"Sure, so long as you don't mind me rambling on about all the trivia and facts," Boulder said, sitting down beside Brutus on the sofa. "C'mon, start the game!"
"Yes sir!" Brutus said, saluting and laughing.
Tetris had begun.
RUNA
Runa sat quietly in one of the graveyards of District Two. It wasn't the tribute graveyard, not this time. It wouldn't be time to lay down new flowers until the end of the week.
Rather, it was a distant graveyard just outside of Town 395. The old, mostly dormant town where she'd lived much of her life before she'd ever been reaped for the Hunger Games, or indeed lived before the Hunger Games had ever been instated.
She remembered her grandpa's wisdom of counting her blessings. Being able to recall a time, however vague, before this sick yearly deathmatch was one of them.
Mostly though she just remembered her grandpa. He'd died quite a long time ago, having been in his eighties at the time of her own Games. Even all these years later, even when Runa was getting into old age and had her own family… it hurt.
It was why, after silently paying her respects for an hour or so, she couldn't keep herself from sobbing. She always was a bit of an emotional one, so people said.
"Runa, are you alright?" a voice asked.
Runa turned, stumped to see Brutus approaching her. Runa had no idea where Brutus had come from, only that he'd seen her cry. She never liked showing her face when tears fell down it.
"I'm fine," Runa said, glancing sideways.
"You're not," Brutus replied, kneeling beside Runa. "You seemed 'off' last night too. What's wrong?"
Runa silently gestured to the gravestone. One glance told Brutus everything that he needed to know.
Here lies Ripford Peace.
He loved to laugh.
He loved to give advice.
His advice saved my life.
He was my Grandpa.
- Runa
"Sounds like he was a good man," Brutus noted, seemingly unsure of what to say.
"He was," Runa replied. "There was never a man quite like him. It's been decades, I should be over it… I'm not. Not really."
"That's normal. You cared about him. Same with me and my Grandma, now there was a powerful women," Brutus smiled to himself, nostalgic. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Well for one thing… why are you here Brutus?" Runa paused to wipe away a few fresh tears. "How'd you find me?"
"…I'll own it, I was out here because I heard rumour Bigfoot was lurking in this town," Brutus admitted.
Runa paused, staring in pure confusion.
"Hey, a victor needs to have a talent. Mine's trying to catch Bigfoot," Brutus said, shrugging. "Anyway, as I said, any way I can help?"
"Well… I guess just talking would be nice," Runa took a deep breath. "Normally Baron and Rhyder come with me for this. But Baron's sick and Rhyder's caring for him. Guess handling this alone is harder than I thought."
"You're not alone, you've got me. I'm pretty hard to miss," Brutus lightly chuckled to himself. "Two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle is pretty obvious."
"Well, you're not wrong," Runa agreed.
"Say… since I never really knew anything about your grandpa, maybe you could… tell me about him?" Brutus suggested. "Like, all I know is he gave you some good advice that's helped you for decades. What did he say?"
Runa smiled, flattered that Brutus was showing a genuine interest in the man who raised her so very long ago.
"Well, a lot of ties into the time before and during my own Games, so I hope you're ready for a long story," Runa replied, her smile becoming a lot easier to hold.
"Born ready," Brutus boasted.
"Well in that case… the first bit of advice he gave me was to count my blessings," Runa began. "When I was a little girl I was the only one amongst my sisters who'd not ended up on the wrong sideof a dark days warhead. All I had was a shack, a well for water, a few blankets and my grandpa. I always said I'd kill if it meant keeping all of it safe."
And so the story went on for over an hour. Brutus only became more enraptured and amazed as time went by. Runa's tears ceased falling after only ten minutes.
ROOK
If there was one thing Rook hated about the Capitol it had to be the citizens being so fucking annoying. He could handle the brutal regime, he could handle mentoring dead kids walking on the extremely rare chance he was ever allowed to do so, he could handle the way they treated outlying districts, he could even handle the rather blatant and cruel executions. In fact, he could even handle being in the Hunger Games – he had, after all, won them.
The issue was that, even after so long, his fame was not drying up. Dragon would call him a madman for wanting to just be left alone, but Rook did not feel Dragon counted. He was nuts!
The point was every time Rook came to the Capitol for whatever reason he'd be flocked by Capitol citizens clamouring for his autograph, a selfie or a lock of his hair. Apparently being the first career to win after deliberately turning against the pack from the get-go made him a novelty that'd always be beloved.
He assumed Olga was laughing at him, calling it karma or some shit. Karma for what, Rook had no idea.
It was half past one in the afternoon, around a month before the reaping of the fifty eighth games - a Games that'd hopefully be better than the disastrous frozen Games that had preceded it – when the crowds found him.
All he'd wanted was a pack of peanuts and to be left alone!
For ten minutes it was just high pitched chatter, excited squeals and Rook not getting in a word edgeways, sideways or anyways at all. It seemed like his temper would swiftly be lost and his day ever so ruined.
Brutus had other plans.
"Hey gang! Who wants a picture with me?" Brutus called as he walked down the street. "C'mon, you can sit on my shoulders!"
That was all it took for the crowd to instantly leave Rook and swarm towards Brutus. The 'mudman' just laughed, enjoying the attention as he readied himself for some serious photo taking.
He gave Rook a wink and gestured for him to make a run for it.
"I owe you a drink!" Rook called as he jogged away and rounded a corner, beelining for the nearest motel to book a room to hide in.
Rook decided 'screw it' and figured he owed Brutus not one, but five drinks at least!
OLGA
By the time the last outlier was dead by the blade of the boy from One it had been twelve days since the Games had begun. All that remained was the career pack. Both from One, the girl from Four and Brutus himself.
Brutus felt a brief flicker of loss as he glanced at the corpse of the girl from Seven, upset that Xoey had fallen by the 5th day and failed to see this moment. The infection from her wound had simply been impossible to fix. Nothing could've been done for her.
The next thing he felt was a blade barely missing his neck, only his excellent reflexes saving his life. Brutus leapt away, clutching his war hammer and a cold look in his eyes.
The look of a killer.
"Strongest dies so the rest can stand a better chance, you know how it goes," the boy from One said. "Ready guys?"
The girl from One and girl from Four gripped their swords tightly, clearly ready for the battle to begin and to claim themselves a life of fame, fortune and everlasting glory.
Three on one was incredibly unfair.
It was unfair for them. It would've taken a lot more than three people to take down Brutus down now that he was paying full attention to them.
He parried the boy from One's katana with ease, smashing his ribcage horrible with a follow-up hammer strike. The boy was dead before he could even sob in pain.
The girls glanced at each other and nodded. They charged from both sides, ready to murder the powerful boy and being wary of the common cliché of accidently impaling each other.
They needn't have considered that. Brutus just smirked, almost looking amused, and spun on the spot. The slippery mud made it easy for him to whirl around like a tornado for a brief moment, both girls having their heads smashed off of their bodies and sent flying away into mud hundreds of yards away.
The cannon fired and Brutus roared in triumph, holding up his weapon with both hands and shaking it around in glee. Nothing could make the moment any better.
From the mentoring room Olga watched the screen as the hovercraft descended to collect Brutus from the arena.
"You see that?" she told her fellow victors from Two. "That is how you win the Games. Take notes, all of you. He did right what literally all of you did wrong. He was strong, honourable, never showed fear, followed all of the rules and is a credit to District Two."
Olga rose, ignoring the sour looks from the other Twos and various other victors.
"Where are you going?" Boulder asked. "…And hey, what did I do wrong?"
"You got dropkicked like a football. That clip still gets played and I'm personally sick of it," Olga said, rolling her eyes. "As for where I'm going, I'm gonna be opening a fine bottle of champagne I've had ever since my own Games. I've finally mentored somebody to victory whom did not ruin it along the way, so it's time to open the bottle."
Olga left without another word.
VERCINGETORIX
It was a sunny summer day, the fine weather felt throughout District Two. With the District being the loyal and having the overall best quality of life the residents, and even the peacekeepers, had no issues relaxing and enjoying the day as they saw fit. It was, after all, a rare day off for several of them.
Brutus had more pressing matters to be getting on with than enjoying the summer.
He had somebody who was in need of a visit.
The tribute graveyard was generally intended for tributes who were slain as the decades of the Hunger Games went by. But there was another section to it, a smaller one at that, off towards the back. The place where victors were to be buried.
The place where Vercingetorix had been put to rest.
Brutus laid down flowers, kneeling in respect for the fallen victor of the first quarter quell. For a time he did not say anything.
"Hey Verci. I know we were never exactly 'close', mainly as you departed before I won… but I thought you may be lonely. Figured I'd come and keep you company for a bit," Brutus said, sitting himself down. "Life's been good. Not much for me to really complain about. Last week I won a bodybuilding tournament. Gave those wannabes a real run for their money."
Brutus continued in this way for a while, quickly losing track of the time. He told the grave about the tribute he'd mentored towards victory shortly after the second quell, about Mercy getting engaged, about the new season of hit show Fiona and Lawrence… anything that came to mind.
So much came to mind that by the time Brutus was getting up to leave the afternoon was starting to turn into sunset. Brutus gave the gravestone a last respectful nod.
"Be seeing you Verci. Until we meet again," Brutus saluted and heading for the exit of the tribute graveyard.
A gentle wind blew as Brutus left, scattering dandelion seeds around the graveyard. Some might call it just nature being nature. Others might call it Vercingetorix acknowledging the visit and being happy for it.
Who could say?
SNOW
As he did every year – and as his predecessor Orion had also done annually – President Snow had to personally crown the victor of each Hunger Games. This year seemed to be a clear step-up from the snivelling pervert from the previous year.
Brutus stood tall, strong and proud. A clear patriot full of honour and no showings of fear nor a desire to rebel for even a moment. He was somebody Snow could easily accept as a victor who'd surely be famous for quite a long time.
"Congratulations," Snow said, placing the crown upon Brutus' bald head. "You fought well. You deserved to win. Good job."
"Thank you Mr President," Brutus said, honoured.
And so, with his head held high and everything in life seeming perfect in that moment, Brutus bowed for the president.
He accidentally headbutted him right in the nose and sent Snow flying backwards to the floor.
Everybody in Panem was silent at that moment. Brutus, Snow, the victors, the peacekeepers, the Capitol citizens, those in the districts forced the watch the mandatory viewing. Everybody.
"Um… my bad?" Brutus said, awkwardly shrugging for the crowd.
Snow got back of, grumbling and scowling. A fresh bruise was plastered across his face.
"Why do I always get the stupid ones," Snow muttered, storming away.
The pair from Twelve finished their silence for Brutus. With nothing more to say they continued to walk down the street.
"No suspense here," Peeta quietly said. "We both know who's next."
"Who could forget?" Katniss replied. "Haymitch's reputation proceeds him. Same for the smell of beer."
The pair came to the fiftieth face upon the sidewalk. Looking back at them was a sharp faced young man, a look of strength and tenacity in his eyes. His scruffy hair was cut somewhat short and his shallow cheeks gave the impression of a lad no stranger to hunger.
"It's awful enough being against twenty three others. Imagine forty seven," Peeta muttered, revolted. "More careers, more innocents…"
"I try not to think about it," Katniss said, a little queasy. "I try so very hard. Just like Haymitch tries not to."
So, how was that? I felt that it'd be a bit too easy to just write out Brutus' Games for this one and felt seeing how he acts outside of the arena in his own district would be plenty of fun. A few new sides to him shown and some more screentime for the other victors of Two. Think I did Brutus justice? Let me know in a review, or tell me exactly how I messed it all up. In any case, we've reached the second quarter quell. Our favourite drunken mentor is next… what story may Haymitch have to tell? Stay tuned!
Stats
District 1: Peridot Gaudy (8th Games), Crystal McCree (14th Games), Bronze Marley (19th Games), Crown Martins (24th Games), Dollar Dettwieller (32nd Games), Mascara Court (41st Games), Platinum Twist (44th 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), Rhyder Overwhill (39th Games), Mercy Gregor (46th Games), Brutus Gunn (49th Games)
District 3: Honorius Perthshire (5th Games), Pi Orbit (22nd Games), Beetee Latier (37th Games), Wiress Plummer (47th 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), Neon Erg (48th 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), Spool Nylon (42nd Games)
District 9: Mizar Aldjoy (1st Games), Gwenith Rosebud (13th Games), Teff Withers (28th Games), Laurel Flamsteel (36th Games), Tabbock Summers (43rd Games)
District 10: Stallion March (26th Games), Lammy Phyronix (40th Games)
District 11: Bear Redfoot (15th Games), Seeder Howell (33rd Games), Chaff Mitchell (45th Games)
District 12: Duke Saint-Rose (6th Games)