Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Note: Time for another career and a canon to boot! Well, sort of? You'd only know of this guy through the Capitol Couture supplementary materials, much like Porter, and what we learn is… not that much, really? Only that Augustus is referred to as the 'cavalier career' and 'Panem's favourite son' who was highly popular. Standard fair for a career, really, don't you think? I feel like this is probably propoganda honestly? Worry not, for I worked out a more or less coherent idea for Augustus (and it's better than the crappy beta idea which I'll elaborate on at the end of the chapter, haha). Enjoy guys!
Katniss and Peeta stood together, observing the imprinted face of the so-called Cavalier career. It was a moment before either said anything.
"Why do you think they called him that. The 'cavalier career'. I always thought it sounded condescending, though whether to him or us I'm not sure," Katniss paused, considering the face of District One's final victor. "
"Hard to say. I remember how he looked at us like we were animals when his tour brought him to Twelve," Peeta said, briefly frowning at the memory. "But, to be fair, a lot of the tributes in that year were… well, let's not beat around the bush. They were unpleasant. Augustus may have just been seen as better in comparison, for a given definition of 'better'."
"I guess that kind of makes sense. This was a while ago, so maybe he matured?" Katniss said. "I mean, people change. Even murderers like us."
"Exactly," Peeta agreed. "For better or worse. That's the part that tends to vary."
Katniss and Peeta ceased talking, starting to hold a respectful silence for the cavalier career.
67th Annual Hunger Games
Name: Augustus Braun
Gender: Male
District: 1
Age: 18
Kills: 8
It had been long.
It had been brutal.
It was been bloody.
But, after fourteen harsh days in the arena, Augustus was ready to go home triumphant to the district he loved so very much. One final swing of his sword and his last opponent – the outlier recruit from Ten, a young man known as Steer – fell to the ground clutching a horrible wound.
One more slash and the cannon boomed.
Augustus wheezed and gasped for air, thoroughly worn out by the final battle. His work-outs that came with all his years of training were exhausting, of course, but the grand finale of his Games put all of that to shame.
After all, most would claim just fighting one person to the death was hard… so, logically, fighting four of them at once would be ridiculously hard. Throw in the heat of the arena, one set inside of a volcano, and you had the hardest fight of a tribute's life ready to go.
Augustus continued to pant, but soon he couldn't help smirking in victory. He surveyed the dead, broken bodies of the other three careers and Steer, satisfied that he'd done his district proud and set himself up for the good life.
He'd go down in legends.
The only issue he faced, really, had been the attitudes of all the other tributes. From his own district partner Pyrite down to the miner kids from Twelve who had died first and second respectively… they'd be jerks, even by Augustus' standards. It was somewhat strange if the career were being perfectly honest.
But, such were the Games – full of savages. But now only he was left and the riches, glory and fame were all his to enjoy. He couldn't help laughing as he boarded the hovercraft back to the Capitol. He'd enjoyed the experience so much that he couldn't help wishing he could win the Games a second time.
Augustus Braun, Victor of Victors. It had a nice ring to it.
Though maybe for his second Games he'd ask for less mutts. The lava bats and the stone dragon had been annoying.
His smugness and delight didn't come to a stop even as the train was pulling into the station of District One. Why would he feel bad about anything? He was coming home to a hero's welcome, having been the one to bring his district's victor count into double digits.
"You seem pretty pleased with yourself," his mentor, Peridot, noted.
"Why wouldn't I be? I won," Augustus smirked, chuckling softly. "Right here, right now, I feel ready for absolutely anything."
Peridot, hair white like snow and her skin showing some wrinkles of her elderly age, looked at Augustus, as if checking he were sure of this.
"Are you really? I'll have you know that comic book club at the victor village is having its next meeting in a week – attendance is mandatory – and you're expected to take part in it," Peridot dropped her wry smirk to look more serious. "Also, you're a mentor now and you need to be ready for it - it's tough. Look out there Augustus."
Peridot gestured to District One, a mere train wall away from them.
"You'll have to help the district now," Peridot said, suddenly firm. "You'll have to mentor other tributes into being the next generation of victors in order to keep our district afloat. Without victors we will one day lack volunteers, and then we'll have to start sending untrained kids into the Games. Crown's win was not unwelcome, but he was a fluke. A happy accident. We cannot count on those happy accidents being common, so we need volunteers. I need to know that, once I'm gone soon enough, you'll cover for me and keep those children safe and on the path to success, in the arena and out."
Augustus took one look at the cheering crowd, all gathered to greet their newest victor for his homecoming, and began to grin even wider.
"Consider it done. They'll be in very good hands. I'll be the best mentor there ever was. It'd be a crime if I didn't help others enjoy the rewards of victory with me," Augustus heartily laughed. "Hell, while we're on the subject, I'll see if I can get us three victors in a row. We managed two in a row before now, what's one more on top of that?"
Peridot couldn't help but smile. "Seems like the district will be in good hands. After your games, I'm sure you can accomplish that, Augustus."
"Thanks Miss Gaudy," Augustus said, for once sounding sincere and not arrogant at all.
That, of course, changed when the train door opened, and he leapt out onto the platform.
He then leapt off the platform and began to crowd surf.
"Hunger Games forever!" Augustus exclaimed, laughing like a total loon.
MENTORING THROUGH THE YEARS: STARRING AUGUSTUS BRAUN
THE SIXTY EIGHTH HUNGER GAMES
It was his first year of being a mentor and Augustus was ready to bring home a victor on his first try. Sure, one could argue that only Gloss had ever managed to actually achieve this – and Augustus felt he had the unfair advantage of knowing his tribute, his twin sister, all his life – but if crybaby tributes from Twelve could win (well, apparently) then why not mentors getting victors on their first attempt?
Augustus had been assigned to mentor the female tribute that year, a shorter than average girl called Emblem. She made up for shorter height with sheer nerve and amazing skills with shurikens.
Of course, the fact she and Augustus had hit things off so well certainly hadn't hurt. It only made Augustus all the more dedicated to bring her home.
That had been the plan at least, but then it all went horribly wrong. It turned out there was something of an irregularity in the arena that year.
A serial killer.
After the bloodbath had wiped out eight tributes Augustus had settled in, drink in hand, ready to act at a moment's notice if Emblem needed anything. Platinum, seated beside him and carefully watching her own tribute – a rich, deadly boy called Grand – was similarly ready for anything. Sure, she wasn't what Augustus would call a powerful victor or anything, but she had a good brain in there. She was alright.
But that's when things took a turn for the worst.
Of the sixteen who survived the bloodbath, eleven of the fifteen possible kills were all performed by one sick individual from District Three. Lothar had seemed harmless enough pre-Games, if a little oddball, but that changed when the fourth day arrived.
One moment Emblem had been split from the group after getting lost in the thick mist of the forest.
The next moment she'd been yanked into the trees by a vine snare.
She was gagged and cut to pieces by a razor blade over the next ten hours. Augustus, after the fact, had little memory of his actions from this time period. All of his screaming, vomiting and recoils of terror made it hard to remember specific moments.
All he knew for sure was that poor Emblem died a horrific death and that he had failed to bring a tribute home on his first try. He sat, dismayed and physically ill, beside Platinum for much of the remainder of the Games. He felt like shit.
"Don't feel too bad. There was nothing you could have done," Platinum said, gently. "You did your best for her."
"My best should have bought her back home," Augustus grumbled, pausing to gag sickly. "I must have made a mistake somewhere… whatever, this whole year was a mistake. Next time I'll bring one back."
"Best of luck. I think the other mentor next year will be Bronze, so… just be careful around him," Platinum said, a distinct tone of warning in her voice. "He's not the nicest of victors."
The field of tributes was whittled down one by one, the alliance of the careers and that of the so called Big Brothers suffering losses as the days went by. Grand ended up suffering even worse than Emblem had. Loather did not take kindly to the fact Grand managed to land the tiniest of hits on him before he was bound and gagged.
Platinum left the mentoring room screaming.
She wasn't the only one who did. Gwenith, Paige, Bentley, Lammy and even Rook were soon running off, holding back their dinners. Some who stayed, like Spool and Boulder, ended up being sick into buckets.
"Good lord!" Boulder yelled between mouthfuls of vomit.
Laurel and Pasture were both reduced to sobbing when their tributes died. Not just your average cry, but rather weeping of complete and utter heartbreak. Their tributes had, after all, been family members of theirs who had been rigged into the Games. They ended up leaving together to cry it out where nobody was watching them.
Leaving to be alone together and share their grief would create a friendship very beneficial for a baker boy several years later.
It was shortly after Lothar had absolutely butchered the girl from Two that Runa was unable to take anymore. She clutched her chest, falling to the ground suffering a heart attack from the sheer extremes of terror and revulsion she was witness to. She was quickly taken away by peacekeepers and medics, Baron managing to keep pace beside them with Rhyder right behind him.
She'd live, but she'd likely be bedridden and weak for a while. It was clear she didn't have overly long left, and that her time was even smaller thanks to witnessing Lothar's rampage.
Augustus didn't know why he even bothered to stick around to watch the Games to the very end. Twenty days of horror and what did he have to show for it? A tribute who died horribly and only enough time to send down a single sponsor parachute.
Maybe he just wanted to watch Lothar, to pick out what weaknesses he may have. Augustus didn't care who this victor-to-be thought he was. There was going to be HELL to pay for what he did to Emblem and Grand.
It didn't even cross his mind that the other tributes had suffered nor that he'd taken part in torturing the boy from Eight just one year ago.
"Waste of a year this was. A fucking waste," Augustus popped open a bottle of booze, pouring out glasses for anybody around who wanted one. "This was meant to be my year! Fuck Lothar, fuck him to hell. He stole my victor from me!"
"Boy, I know you're upset and honestly I don't want him to win either," Honorius conceded, accepting a glass of wine. "But please… shut your mouth. Don't forget your pack tortured tributes. Your first kill was a twelve year old. Just think about that while you send your hatred at this boy, however justified it may be."
Augustus just scoffed, ignoring the elderly victor from Three and moving over to stand near Finnick. The handsome young man from Four gazed at the screen, his nails practically digging into the sides of his chair as he watched his tribute wander around through the dark forest.
"Think he has a chance?" Augustus asked, casual.
"I'd like to think so," Finnick replied.
"That doesn't sound like a yes," Augustus noted.
"Look, I know he has little chance but it's either he wins or Lothar sits with us next year," Finnick shuddered. "Plenty of us have lots of kills, but this… this is something else."
"I hope Ron wins too. Fucking Lothar…" Augustus snarled, red in the face. "Oh, here we go…"
Augustus watched as the final battle began. Ron barely avoided the same rope snares that had hindered and doomed many other tributes. From above Lothar used a crossbow to try and shoot him.
One well thrown knife from Ron got him onto the ground.
Augustus whistled, awed at the fight that began between Ron and Lothar. It was brutal, it was savage, blood was everywhere, Ron howled as five of his ribs were broken…
…Lothar howled a lot louder as his innards were torn out. Ron kept stabbing with his knife and broken bottle long after the cannon fired.
There was an gigantic applause for Finnick, both for mentoring a victor and for his tribute preventing the serial killer from winning. Augustus didn't join in, of course.
He was too disgusted and jealous to do anything but glare at Finnick. The applause and admiration was meant to be his! His!
He'd get them next year. The Sixty Ninth Games were going to be much different.
Augustus remained in a foul mood up to when he went back home and settled down to read comics with Peridot.
"You did your best," she told him, ever gentle.
It calmed Augustus a little… but only somewhat.
He felt terrible for Emblem. He was sorry that he had failed her when she needed him most. It was all the fault of those filthy outliers.
THE SIXTY NINTH HUNGER GAMES
The year had not gotten off to a good start for Augustus. Not only had Ron's stop in One caused him no shortage of anger and fury – Ron had called him one of the worst victors for believing people should like him because he volunteered to kill children and won the Games. A fist fight had ensued. – but not long after life in One turned back to normal a district wide tragedy had occurred.
Peridot had passed away. She had lived a long life without tons of regrets, just a few really, and entrusted the future of the district to her fellow victors of One.
To Augustus.
He was not going to let his mentor down, no matter how much the thought of her death and how hard her funeral had been made his eyes well up with tears even now.
This year would be One's year, he'd make her proud. With a distinct lack of any serial killers in the arena how could it not be?
Bronze had been ready to mentor, he'd even been friendly with Augustus and claimed to see a little of himself within him. Of course, that had been before the female tribute turned out to be Platinum's daughter Spinel. From that point there was no other option than Platinum mentoring her daughter while Augustus would mentor the boy, Lord.
Augustus, of course, assumed that Spinel just wanted to share in her mother's glory. He was entirely ignorant to the reality that Snow had ordered his peacekeepers to give Platinum and Spinel an ultimatum – the girl volunteers or takes a bullet to her brain post-reaping.
Part of Augustus was annoyed that Platinum was surely going to perform better as a mentor because, like Gloss, she knew her tribute so well. He couldn't compete with that no matter what he did!
On the other hand Augustus wasn't too far gone in arrogance to feel ashamed for such thoughts swirling within his mind. He didn't want his fellow mentor to cry.
Luckily this year had been going amazingly so far. Augustus made sure to rub into the other districts that, even as deep in as the final eight, his district still had both of their tributes alive. Nobody else could claim the same.
It was especially impressive when one considered that the arena – a scorching desert – was filled to the brim with mutts. Then again, who better to deal with them than the pair from One?
Perhaps the boy from Ten. The oddball hermit was ignoring the other tributes entirely, as if they were not worth his time. He'd killed over a hundred mutts already and was tracking a particularly massive, horrific monster simply referred to as The Beast. It was labelled as unbeatable, but it seemed the boy either wanted to prove this wrong or was insane.
Probably insane.
Augustus took his gaze away from the screens for just a minute to look through the list of supplies he could buy with the considerable fortune of sponsor pledges he'd gotten. It's his first and only mistake of the year.
That was the moment when the gamemakers unleashed a group of sand sharks, a throwback to those seen in the Thirty Fifth Games. The careers were heavily armed with a variety of weapons, seemingly ready for anything.
The sand sharks were armed with maws full of sharp teeth and weren't just 'seemingly' ready for anything, they were ready for anything.
So much so that in under forty seconds District One had lost both of its tributes, the pair of them devoured painfully by the hungry shark mutts. Only the girl from Two managed to escape, fleeing for her life across the desert after taking Spinel off guard and shoving her to the sand sharks.
The mutts had oddly seemed to target Spinel the least, but in that moment it no longer mattered.
Platinum breaks down beside Augustus, screaming in despair and heartbreak. She howls for her daughter so loudly and for so long that a pair of peacekeepers are forced to sedate her so that the other mentors who still have a tribute can actually focus.
Augustus roared in fury, punching the table hard enough for it to crack. He calls out the whole thing as bullshit, complete and utter bullshit. His tributes had no chance at all!
"Tell that to my tribute. Yours grabbed her from the second the Games began," Paige muttered.
Augustus doesn't listen, not even when Paige signs something to Teff that has the deaf victor firmly nodding her agreement and folding her arms. He never did care for those two, often joined at the hip. They were beneath him.
He stormed out of the mentoring room before much else could be said. He didn't want to look at another second of the Games, not when they'd been ruined by such a convoluted mutt attack. The one thing to ruin his chances of having a victor and somehow it happened.
"I don't know what he's so pissed off about. He's been mentoring without success for two years," Haymitch said, opening another bottle. "I've done it for nearly twenty."
"Sore loser, that's what he is. He needs to learn to accept miserable defeat like I do," Wattzon muttered, gently holding Arendellian. Mutts always sent his surrogate sister into a bad state. Hugs helped.
"Maybe he's attached," Gwenith added, quietly. "It's always harder when people are attached to their tributes. I should know…"
"Perhaps. Point is, Augustus sucks," Haymitch said, knocking back his drink in one gulp.
Given the newest career victor's general attitude there were few that disagreed. Even elderly couple Baron and Runa, quietly sitting together at the back of the mentoring room to enjoy what was likely to be one of their last months together, couldn't exactly disagree.
THE SEVENTIETH HUNGER GAMES
OK, so there had been a few false starts with mentoring so far. But there was nothing that Augustus could have done. He'd spent time studying the past two Games and carefully watched what had gone wrong. Third time's the charm and he was ready to finally do his old mentor Peridot proud. She's trusted him. He had a duty to repay that trust.
Seeing that there were no serial killers this year nor were there any ridiculously powerful mutts (not to mention all the mutt killing advice, stolen from Skinner, he'd given his own tribute) had Augustus feeling that this was sure to be his year. It would be a perfect way to end the seventh decade of the Hunger Games.
Just six were left and his tribute, a tall boy named Tigerstone, was still going strong. It was just him and his weaker ally from Two against four outliers. One from Three, one from Four, one from Six and one from Seven.
His current odds of winning were three to one.
It was perfect.
Even the other mentors seemed to know that a victory for District One was looking very likely. Olga, Honorius, Finnick, Chassis and Pliny just didn't want to admit it. That was fine by Augustus.
Soon enough they'd have no choice but to admit it, no matter how much they did not want to.
"Your girl isn't doing so hot right now Finnick," Augustus noted. He held back on the smugness, having recently started to get along well with the 'Flirt of Four'. Star should not harm star and all that. "How long has she been cowering in that cave now? Not starting anything, I've honestly forgot how long."
"Two days," Finnick replied. "She's not out of this yet. Annie's strong."
Augustus doubted this, but who was he to tell Finnick not to root for his tribute? They'd been close friends pre-Games, denial of the inevitable was obvious and practically his right at this point. Annie was huddled in a cave, rocking back and forth with wide, blank eyes. Every so often she'd softly scream or start laughing madly. The death of her district partner had messed her up big time.
A far cry from the cute, clumsy postal worker who boasted the powers of her 'Water Fu' back in training.
"Don't act like you have this won. My girl is a patriot, a winner, a predator. She's got this under control," Olga said. Even all these years after her own Games she was just as much a patriot as ever… even with her private moments of doubt. "Two's losing streak is about to over. I promise you that."
"Didn't realise you were the type to break promises Olga," Augustus remarked. "Fine, your girl is kinda strong, I guess? But look at her, she's broken one of her hands."
"She only needs one," Olga replied, cold as ice.
Augustus soon detached himself from talking to Finnick and Olga. They were too focused on their tributes to have much of anything to say. They still believed they had a chance to win.
Augustus doubted it, but they probably had more chance than the scattered outliers. The boy from Three was making bombs and strapping them onto himself, clearly having lost it. The boy from Six was half starved, ambling around like a zombie and softly moaning from his previously gained concussion. The girl from Seven, meanwhile, wandered through the wet marshlands armed with a broken spear held together by duct tape. She was soaked to the bone.
Nobody amongst the trio of Honorius, Chassis and Pliny looked hopeful. Honorius watched his boy with a sort of tragic resignation. Chassis tried to mutter encouragement to his boy, but it came out so half-hearted. As for Pliny, now aged eighty three, it was an ongoing effort to keep her eyes open. Her final sleep was coming, but she wanted more than anything to see one more child come home safe before then.
"You know, nobody would blame you if you guys just left early. No sponsors are coming for your tributes and nobody here would let it slip that you just cut your losses," Augustus said, pouring out a drink of ice cold water for himself.
"We'd know. We would know that when a child needed us the most we turned away because it was 'too hard'. No, I'd never do such a thing," Honorius said, frowning deeply.
"Yohan did," Augustus noted.
"I'm not Yohan," was all Honorius said in response.
Augustus shrugged, accepting this. He glanced at Pliny. "What's keeping you going sleepyhead?"
"I want to save one more. Just one more," Pliny whispered. She yawned. "I still remember a time before the Games. If Forest comes home I'll tell her all about it."
"I see. What about you Chassis? Hoping this one causes another disaster like all the other victors from your district, yourself included, managed to?" Augustus hoped very much that the answer was no.
"Got that right," Chassis said, smirking widely. "When Six wins, they win big."
"…Here's a thought, how are you still alive? Didn't you get cancer a few years ago?" Augustus asked, confused.
Chassis shrugged. "Yeah, but it comes and goes thanks to the medical supplies I've been buying. Having cancer doesn't mean I'm going to drop dead right away, we have better technology than the 'old world' before Panem. I reckon if I'm careful I have a few years left, and if not… well, I already know what to do."
Augustus didn't get to ask what this thing was. That was when Honorius tribute had finished rigging the bombs and made a mad dash for the large dam that had been holding back a near ocean of water towards the north of the arena.
"Fuck you Snow! Fuck all of you Capitol pigs!" the boy screeched as he jumped at the dam, clicking down the detonator.
The boy from Three died in a massive explosion, nothing remaining of him… nothing except the explosions causing a massive crack to begin forming in the dam.
The dam broke.
The water flooded the arena like a massive tidal wave. There was no escaping the water, not when all of the tributes had been in the low ground. Not even ten minutes later they were all struggling to keep above the water.
Augustus believed his tribute was a strong enough swimmer to stand a chance. He was right… up until Tigerstone was smashed into a large pile of debris and reduced to a splatter of gore.
Augustus screamed himself hoarse, furious over yet another failed year of mentoring. All because of that damn boy from Three and his ridiculous display. But no amount of swearing and screeching at Honorius would change a thing. His boy was dead and his district had lost once again.
In the end all Annie had to do was stay afloat, wait for the boy from Six to drown on his own time and then hold the girls from Two and Seven under the water when they, in a fit of desperation, tried to do the same to her first.
Finnick was rocketing out of the mentoring room from the moment the final cannon fired. He had a victor to meet… and more importantly, a dear friend who needed his support more than anything else.
Augustus was practically ill from the feelings of defeat. He could not understand how this kept happening to him and his well trained tributes. That was three times he had a chance to do Peridot proud and three times he failed.
When Dragon and Wattzon offered him the chance to join them at a local bar he didn't refuse the offer. He needed a drink to deal with his rage… and, not that he was ready to admit it, his guilt for failing again.
THE SEVENTY FIRST HUNGER GAMES
Augustus was nothing if not a pro-active sort of mentor. From the instant he had been assigned his tribute (Emerald Fantazma, an expert with spears and the daughter of a close family friend) he made sure she knew what she was in for and what to watch out for; serial killers, dangerous mutts, the importance of killing the boy from Three right away and, most of all, how to swim.
Augustus gave her a swimming lesson in the train's indoor pool just to be on the safe side. She was almost as good as a tribute from Four would be.
Augustus felt his training tips had paid off immensely. 3-1 odds of winning and a spot in the top five had come by far too easily and none of the remaining tributes aside herself were what anybody could call tough.
She'd been smart enough to use a rock to bash in the heads of the Twos while they had been sleeping. The boy from One had died earlier from an ambush by the Fives, though Augustus partly blamed it on Dollar being a cuckoo sort of mentor.
"Zombies won't be in the arena ever again," he had told her, facepalming.
"That's what they said about sand sharks and we saw how that went," was her calm response.
They'd stopped talking after that.
But that was then and this was now. The Games had been interesting enough, but overall a very easy year for Emerald to participate in. The combination of weak outliers, her clever betrayal of the pack and how the arena – a large sort of savannah filled with scrubs, boulders and a mercilessly hot sun – had driven five tributes insane from terrible thirst had make it a walk in the park.
Augustus had winced a little when Emerald had torn out the intestines of the tiny girl from Nine, but aside that it was just a normal year. He told himself to get over it. Not his tribute, not his problem.
As it stood the only tributes left for Emerald to hunt down were the badly wounded boy from Five, the crybaby girl from Seven, the starving boy from Eight and the blind girl from Eleven – Augustus honestly had no idea how that girl had made it so far.
Good for her… not that he cared. He didn't.
"Oh, here we go," Augustus noted, sitting up straight as he watched Emerald approach the weeping girl from Seven sitting beside a dried up riverbed. "Better luck next year Jack."
"Bold of you to assume Johanna has no chance," Jack noted. He never did have much patience for Augustus' ego and arrogance.
"Not bold if it's common sense," Augustus replied, snooty. "She's done nothing but cry and whimper all Games."
"Yeah, she has," Jack agreed. "…All Games so far."
"Whatever, I don't have to listen to the guy who had to cheat to win the Games," Augustus said, turning away from Jack. "Honestly, that's worse than Spud being rigged into it."
"I can hear you…" Spud mumbled, watching his girl fumble around through some bushes.
"Yes, you can, and I don't care," Augustus said, picking up his glass of wine as Emerald reached the girl from Seven – Johanna, he reminded himself – and raised her spear.
Augustus began to choke on his wine, unable to stop himself gagging on the expensive drink. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was unreal! It was insane! By the time Gloss had helped him regain his breath he could only say one thing.
"What the fuck?!" Augustus screeched, horrified.
One moment Emerald had been ready to score another kill. The next moment she was on the ground, screaming from the horrific wound inflicted to her left hand. It hung loosely from the stump, cleaved badly by Johanna's hidden axe.
The axe came down again. The right hand was severed.
The axe came down again. The right foot was mangled.
The axe came down again. The left foot was slice in half.
Johanna looked down at the broken career girl. She practically drank in the sheer terror and pain of the former trained killer.
Augustus thought he was going to be sick. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening! Not now, not again!
Not Emerald!
"How does it feel to have wasted your entire life training for a Games you were never going to win," Johanna sneered down at Emerald, idly tossing her axe between her hands. "You'll be forgotten, just like every other dead tribute."
Emerald was soon crying more than blood. Real tears exited her eyes, though not for long.
Johanna wasted little time bringing the axe down onto her neck.
Jack simply gave Augustus a wink, having known what Johanna's game was from the very start.
Augustus entered his yearly rage fit after losing a tribute, but this time it was different. This was somebody he had a personal bond with before the Games. Somebody he cared for and whom his family cared for.
He failed her.
Augustus began to wonder if this was exactly the sort of thing the other victors felt any time their tributes were the ones being killed. Was it possible? Was it probable? Platinum had reacted awfully to her daughter's death and she was hardly a career to begin with.
Augustus didn't think it over much. Wattzon and Dragon were already getting up and helping him out of the room, leading him off for a drink at the bar.
"Your tribute…" Augustus tried to say.
"Porter can cover for me," Wattzon stated. "…Honestly, I'll be real, I don't think Solar will last that long anyway."
Four failures in a row, four dead tributes whose death were to be blamed on him. Augustus was starting to lose confidence in himself, a phenomenon that had never struck him before.
THE SEVENTY SECOND HUNGER GAMES
Ever since the death of Emerald Augustus had made a decision. Two in fact.
The first was to encourage his tributes to kill the boy from Three and girl from Seven first if at all possible. Never underestimate them or anybody else for that matter.
The second was that, for every tribute he failed to save, he would get a tattoo of their name on his chest. A way to ensure they were remembered forever and as a firm reminder that he had to become a better mentor.
The Capitol citizens who paid for his company often didn't have any idea who the tributes were. Initially Augustus had not minded the appointments – Capitol women were hot in his not so humble opinion – but genuinely forgetting Emerald existed? That was too far.
Not that he could act on that anger. That much had been made clear.
This year had been a tough one on his nerves. It was getting increasingly hard to watch when, say, a massive tribute from Two would destroy the face of a screaming twelve year old with only their fist. It felt almost wrong, given how unfair of a match-up it was.
Maybe the lack of having a victor yet was just getting to him again. But if he had his way then that was going to be changing very, very soon. His boy had just dispatched the girl from Three and was hunting down the last tribute standing.
Sigh… it just had to be her didn't it?
Numi Marrolto, self-appointed 'ultimate fangirl' of her mentor Bentley. Both were rappers and while Augustus would admit that Bentley was talented… Numi really wasn't. At all.
The meathead had been singing awful rap after awful rap throughout the Games, oblivious to how much of a doofus she was coming off as.
At least his tribute, a formidable and dashing boy named Komodo, had an easy final battle.
"Sorry in advance Bentley. I know you guys are still dealing with losing Chassis, but you'll have to make do without your fangirl as well," Augustus began to pour out a drink for them both. "Only one gets home."
"It's all good," Bentley replied, accepting the drink. He was, for once, free of drugs. He'd really cleaned himself up for Games season, that was for sure. "Besides, Numi's coming home. She's a lot stronger than anybody knows."
"Oh really? How?" Augustus briefly glanced over to where Johanna sat, dozing in her seat beside Fir. "She's no Johanna."
"True," Bentley concede. "But she doesn't need to be. She only needs to be herself."
Bentley hit a button and sent in his final sponsor gift to his tribute.
"…A car tyre?" Augustus struggling to think of anything to say. "You sure you're not on drugs?"
"Just watch," Bentley said. He winced for a moment. "Sorry in advance."
Augustus watched. He watched with a familiar sort of growing horror at what was beginning to unfold. Numi leapt atop the tyre moments before Komodo spotted her. He charged at her, plenty of swords ready to be slashed and thrown into her smaller body. She charged as well… from there it was clear what her advantage was.
When atop the tire she was too damn fast for Komodo to have any hope of catching or throwing a sword into. Her balance was perfect and her speed at least triple that of a strong tribute's typical running speed!
All the while the girl kept on singing a rap song. It had Augustus close to tearing his immaculate hair right out.
He only wished Komodo could hear his pleading for him to run away and find better terrain to fight in. Alas, he was many miles away and even if he was nearby Numi's rapping would be one hell of a challenge to speak over.
"Hopped on the tyre and was ready to go-go
Wind in my hair, loving it fo' sho'
Met a career, 'twas loco Komodo
He liked throwing swords so I told him no-no
You better move quick cuz' you're in my dojo
You look a bit thirsty, want some hot cocoa?"
Not even five minutes later Augustus no longer had a tribute. He had, however, booked another tattoo appointment to have Komodo's name forever marked onto his body – the body of a terrible mentor – and was leading Wattzon and Dragon off for another night of heavy drinking.
Something had to be wrong with his brain for the treasonous thoughts to be stuck in his head, but the Hunger Games were starting to look… wrong.
Awful, even.
THE SEVENTY THIRD HUNGER GAMES
Augustus was starting to get very tired of the constant defeats that he had been going through for the past couple of years. Five tributes all dead because of him. Five times his promise to Peridot that he would be a great mentor had been broken.
It was getting harder every single year.
All the same, he was a proud citizen of District One. The first district. The best district. He couldn't accept defeat because where would that leave his tributes? He'd suck it up as best as he could each year and do what he could for his tributes.
This year he was watching over a girl, Lustella, and hoped beyond hope that her sword skills would be enough for her to stay alive.
He could only sigh in resignation when this failed to be enough.
It was just never enough.
This year his tribute didn't even get to last a few days before their horrible death. It was within the bloodbath that Lustella ended up losing her life. One moment she'd bent over to grab up a short sword, the next moment the opportunistic boy from Ten smashed a piece of rubble from the abandoned city over her head and left her for dead.
"That's it, peel her onions and make her cry he-who-sneaks Rind boy!" Pasture exclaimed, jumping up and down as she watched Rind gather supplies and escape.
Augustus could only punch his desk and let out a weary sigh. What was he doing wrong here? What mistake had he made this time?
Bronze, seated beside Augustus, didn't even react as Lustella died nor when the boy from Two turned around, having heard footsteps, and smashed a twelve year old in the face with a sledgehammer.
"Don't feel too bad, she was always going to die no matter what you did. Just do what I do and enjoy the luxury," as if to demonstrate his point Bronze sipped from a glass of champagne. "I always did see a bit of myself in you. Relax and embrace it."
Only a few years ago Augustus would have beamed in pride to hear such a thing from Bronze. But not anymore.
Suddenly the idea of being like Bronze was legitimately terrifying.
A night of drinking would hopefully make everything better. It had worked for the past few years. Why would it stop now?
THE SEVENTY FOURTH HUNGER GAMES
Augustus wished he had never volunteered for the Games. He'd been happier when he was just another fanboy wanting his own shot at glory and cheering on all the tributes from his district, whether they won or lost.
But, such ignorance was part of the problem. A problem that he now saw was all too real and he'd been too stupid and naïve to see it coming. Was that what Peridot meant when she warned him about being a mentor? That each year he'd only feel worse about himself? Was he going to keep on feeling worse or did there come a point where he'd just be numb to it?
Surely it couldn't get any worse than watching his own niece being horribly stung to death by tracker jackers. Glimmer hadn't stood a chance and, just like every other tribute he'd mentored, died in great pain and all alone.
To add insult to injury the 'Girl on Fire' had stolen her bow and arrows.
Augustus eventually stopped his weeping, maybe after two or three hours. That was surely nothing to how her immediate family were feeling. He knew she needed one more year of training, but the order from Snow was not that could possibly be ignored.
He gazed around the mentoring room, taking it all of the reactions of other victors. Almost all of them were negative. Indeed, aside from Bronze and Enobaria, nobody present in the room was particularly pleased.
Wiress was sad for the homeless and clever little girl she'd been trying to mentor.
Finnick let a few tears flow down his cheeks, his nephew's death still fresh in his mind.
Annie cried over the fisher girl she'd tried to do her best for.
Arendellian kept asking where her boy had gone, her unstable mind not able to comprehend that he'd been killed unjustly. Wattzon did his best to support her, unable to bring himself to tell the truth.
Bentley had given into the urge to take morphling once again, guilty for failing his boy.
Numi sobbed, her best friend having been in her care and killed unceremoniously at the start of the Games.
Blight occasionally smacked his fake hand onto his desk, furious over the death of yet another boy from Seven.
Johanna didn't appear to be in a good mood, but then again it was rare that she was.
Spool muttered to himself, furious for not thinking of a plan to help his boy after he suffered a leg injury during training.
Cecelia cried openly, still hurting from the terrible death of her girl. Yet another tribute too young to stand a chance.
Tabbock felt pissed off that his tribute was dead. Mainly as it meant he'd be unlikely to get more screen time as a mentor that year.
Laurel hadn't said a word since her tribute died. As usual she'd failed to be of any help to whoever was thrust into her care.
Pasture felt bad for her pacifist tribute, wishing she'd had more time to press upon her the importance of using shoes in combat.
Even those who still had a tribute did not feel particularly happy. Enobaria and Bronze were just exceptions to the rule, both happy to cheer on Clove and Marvel until the very end, poisoning them through encouragement of their worst traits, traits that in another world they might have even been able to overcome.
Magnus seemed to outright fear his own tribute, one truly monstrous boy. A young man with so many personal issues and exactly zero outlets aside one encouraging murder and pain.
Beetee was full of pure nervousness over his rather sadistic boy's plan with the landmines.
Porter hoped for the safety of her incredibly cunning girl.
Stallion dared to think his tough boy had a chance, but with his district partner having been his true love it was clear the old 'stampeder' was worried his tribute may become erratic and reckless.
Chaff was growing worried that his tribute's refusal to leave a large field of wheat would trigger gamemaker wrath.
Seeder knew the little girl she was mentoring was sure to die and was spending her time bracing for the inevitable.
Haymitch thought it was too good to be true that he had two serious contenders. With the girl unconscious and the boy slowly dying by the side of a river it very well may have been.
The common factor was how none of them were having fun. There was no spirit of competition. It was just a matter of which mentor broke last. Which among them wouldn't feel the crushing guilt of failing yet another year.
Marvel had very good odds of winning, but did it matter anymore? At least for this year it certainly didn't matter to Augustus. His niece was dead and she was never coming back! In the time she needed him there more than anything he'd been worthless. Worse than worthless!
That was when it all clicked into place. It was how Platinum felt, how Laurel and Pasture had felt, how the families of the dead tributes felt… it was like a strike of lighting, years' worth of tributes, deaths and tragedy hitting him in one agonizing bitch slap.
He'd contributed to the system and kept this going on with a smile on his face.
Had Peridot done the same? Did she love the Games? …Did she see it as the best they would ever get, to have careers and sacrifice their reputation to Panem in exchange for safety?
Augustus said little else, too lost in maddening thought to react to any words sent his way. Even Marvel's death several days later failed to get a response out of him.
"Yep, he's broken alright. Lights are on but nobody is home," Stallion noted.
"That's what I call magic!" Tabbock added, laughing.
THE SEVENTY FIFTH HUNGER GAMES: THE THIRD QUARTER QUELL
Augustus wondered what his arrogant, idiotic eighteen year old self would have thought of this quell. He knew all too well that dumb kid would have been ecstatic. An all victor Hunger Games? Amazing!
He knew better now. He knew this particular Games was nothing short of a complete farce. People he'd known for years were either dead or surely close to being so. Cashmere and Gloss, a pair Augustus would have proudly declared to anybody were some of the best friends a man could ask for, had already been killed one after the other.
So many victors were dead. Whether it was friends (and former enemies) of his like Cecelia, Bentley and Brutus or people he couldn't stand like Brutus and Porsche, it was the same in the end.
Dead, their freedom taken away by a ridiculous quell. Augustus even slightly suspected it was at least possible that it had been rigged.
The Girl on Fire had, after all, started a fire of sorts across the nation.
Only six were left alive and Augustus felt his heart sinking when he realised who was likely to be next. Katniss had her bow held firm, the arrow notched and Finnick in her sights.
He knew he would be a coward if he looked away or left the room.
Of course, he couldn't blame those who had chosen to leave. Of the thirty five living victors who weren't picked for the quell, only a few were still hanging around to watch the Games, mostly of loyalty to the tributes or each other (or to make bets in Tide's case). Aside himself it was just Rhyder, Honorius, Ron, Tide, Anchor, Jack, Paige, Teff, Gwenith, Bear and Haymitch. Looking around the normally packed mentoring room made it seem much smaller than it often was.
The others were either out around the Capitol or, in Lyme and Lammy's case, had come down with some sort of illness and remained back in the districts. Augustus envied the trapper girl very much.
"Who do you guys think is going to win?" Augustus asked, mainly just to make conversation.
"Finnick," Anchor replied confidently.
"Him or Katniss," Jack added. "Hmm… maybe Johanna? I'm probably biased, but there you go. Never said I was perfect."
The victors continued to watch as the Games began to reach their conclusion.
It was a mere fifteen minutes before the lightning tree would activate again when Stallion burst into the room, moving with the speed he had shown throughout his own Games back in his young decades ago.
"They know! We've gotta move, now!" he spoke rapidly, his eyes wide.
He'd not looked more alive in years.
His words had Haymitch and Gwenith leaping up, most of the other victors quick to follow their lead. Anchor, Tide and Augustus remained seated, unsure what was going on. Augustus glanced at the screen, noting that Katniss was making her way towards the lightning tree.
"What are you guys talking about?" Anchor asked, frowning.
"How? How do they know? Everything was airtight," Haymitch insisted, clutching his bottle in his hand.
"Somebody must have let it slip," Gwenith muttered, starting to pace back and forth. "What do we do? Where are they?"
"Not far back. Peacekeepers, lots of them. They're on their way right now," Stallion tried to catch his breath. "Only my 'stampeding' kept me ahead of them. Look, we need to move now! Logger squealed and-."
"That bastard!" Ron roared, clenching his fists. "I knew we couldn't trust him, I knew it!"
"We told him nothing. He must have overheard something," Haymitch said, his words spilling out fast and frantic.
"No, seriously, what are you guys talking about?" Anchor asked, stumped.
Distant footsteps of Peacekeepers began to enter the ears of the victors. Very faint for now, but certainly not for long.
"Where's the pick up point?" Haymitch asked, desperate.
"The park. They won't wait for us for long," Stallion continued. He took a deep breath. "If we want to win this war… some of us will need to hold them off."
There was a brief silence. Nobody dared say a word and the only movement came from Paige providing a rapid sign language translation for Teff. The deaf victor bravery rose to her feet and stood beside the door, signing one last response to Paige.
-My uncle was willing to give his life at any time to take them down and free Panem. The same holds true for me.-
Jack strode over to a panel on the floor. Augustus joined the others in staring when the master thief yanked a panel off of the floor and took out a duffel back filled with guns and even a deadly looking grenade.
"…What the fuck?" Anchor asked, stunned.
"How the hell did you…" Rhyder trailed off, thinking better of trying to get an actual answer.
"Master thief mate," Jack replied, quickly passing out the weapons to everybody aside Anchor and Augustus. He stood by the door, a machine gun in hand. "Let's do this. For Fir!"
"We're dead no matter what we do. Ah, what the hell, I bet I can take out five before they get me," Tide remarked, ducking down behind a desk for cover.
The footsteps were getting closer.
"We need to move. If anybody else is willing to stay behind… decide quickly and… bless your souls," Gwenith whispered, shaking. "Bear, you're coming right?"
Gwenith softly gasped when Bear shook his head, pumping his shotgun.
"But… Bear, no…" Gwenith couldn't hold back her tears.
"The rebellion needs you. Me? I've always been a fighter. When I was a boy I thought for power and food. When I was a tribute I fought for life. When I grew up I fought for tributes… and now, at the end, I'm fighting to keep you safe," Bear gave Gwenith a tender, gentle smile. "Go. They need you."
"…Bear…" Gwenith tried not to cry. She failed. "All those years, all the decades… I never…"
Bear gave Gwenith a hug fitting his namesake. "Me too. Ever since the Twentieth Games."
He kissed her.
The footsteps weren't far away.
"What the hell are you all doing?!" Anchor screamed. "Betraying the Capitol? You pigs, you low down worthless-GET OFF!"
Ron held Anchor in an iron fight grip, his body building talent having granted him strength superior to even the Shark of the Fifty Second.
"Shut up," Ron hissed.
"Quite right," Honorius agreed, readying his pistol. "The grown-ups are talking. Back in my day kids knew a thing called respect."
Honorius laughed, amused by the proceedings more than anything else.
Augustus was just plain puzzled.
"Are you guys rebels?" he asked, finally able to speak beyond his confusion.
"Give the boy a prize," Haymitch drawled, backing away towards the window. "We're gonna have to climb down a storey, people."
"Wait, can I come too?" Augustus asked. "Please?"
"…Why would you even want to?" Haymitch asked, carefully.
"Peridot told me to look after District One and it's people. To be the best mentor I could possibly be," Augustus narrowed his eyes, determination shining within them. "But it seems like the only way I can ensure a wonderful future for One is to at least try and help you rebels. It just feels like the right thing to do."
It was decided that Honorius, Tide, Ron (with Anchor as his unwilling shield), Jack, Teff, Stallion and Bear would remain behind to buy the others some time. They were more than willing to face death or imprisonment if it meant giving the second rebellion a chance to succeed.
It was with heavy hearts that Haymitch, Gwenith, Paige, Rhyder and Augustus made their quick escape outside of the window in that order. Augustus made his way out into the cold air of the night right as the Peacekeepers entered the mentoring room.
He glanced back for all of a second, watching the gunfire and several of the Peacekeepers falling over dead.
Augustus knew he'd never forget the sight of Teff falling to the ground covered in bullet holes nor of Anchor taking dozens of bullets that had been meant for Ron, screaming and pleading his loyalty to the Capitol all the while.
Augustus was down and running after the others through a hallway on the lower floor before he could see anymore deaths or signs of arrests. He could only hope those still alive would be alright.
Hope had never done him much good, but there was a first time for everything.
They managed to reach the exit of the massive building barely two minutes later, but a peacekeeper blockage had formed. They were trapped.
"Let's do this," Rhyder muttered, readying his assault rifle.
Paige put a hand on Rhyder's shoulder.
"I've got this. The rebellion needs you so badly," Paige said, taking a deep breath. "Get ready to run."
"Paige, what are you doing? Paige… Paige, no!" Rhyder yelled.
Augustus watched from his spot crouched beside Haymitch as Paige took the pin out of one of the deadly explosives Jack had passed around and charged at the bewildered Peacekeepers. He braced himself for what he knew was coming.
She looked perfectly at peace, a far cry from how riddled with anxiety she'd been in her youth once upon a time.
"I am what I am and what I am is beautiful!"
The explosion sent plenty of the sidewalk flying and enveloped the area in a dust shower. When everything was clear the peacekeepers were all dead and there was little left of Paige.
All that remained was an old photograph of herself and Stringer, taken before her Games. Augustus briefly watched Rhyder snatch it up as they made their way out into the night.
"Go on ahead!" Rhyder called to Haymitch and Gwenith. "I'll catch up, I still need to find a few of the others!"
"Understood!" Haymitch called back as he ran off to the park.
"Be safe! Good luck!" Gwenith added.
Augustus watched Haymitch and Gwenith wearily run one way, both still reeling from the deaths of their friends. Tears would surely be falling before long.
He then looked to where Rhyder was running off into the night, deeper into the Capitol. He began to run after Rhyder.
"Wait up!" Augustus called. "I'll help you!"
It had taken years. Years longer than it should have in his personal opinion, but Augustus was ready to the right thing and serve more than his own ego. He's serve the rebels as best as he could. For One, for the children and for Peridot.
Hunger Games for never.
Katniss and Peeta concluded their silence for Augustus and, after one last look at his imprinted face, resumed their walk down the long street.
It was just ten paces before they came to the sixty eighth face on the Walk of Victors. The firm face of a boy stared firmly back at them, several scars across his face and a mop of incredibly messy hair poking out from under a sailor hat. He was of a moody disposition, no doubt about it.
"Ron Stafford," Katniss said, recognition instantly flaring up in her eyes. "I remember these Games. I remember what a survivalist this boy was… he overcame so much."
"I remember that too," Peeta agreed. He paused, a nasty shudder passing throughout his body. "But you know what I remember even more? The boy from Three – Lothar Paral."
Katniss joined Peeta in shuddering. It was common opinion that Lothar was, bar none, the hands down most evil tribute who had ever joined the Games…
So, how was that? Careers learning that the Games are sick and wrong isn't a new concept at all – I've done it myself, of course – but the idea of Augustus gradually seeing the Games for what they are, sick and wrong, overall several years as a mentor just seemed like too good a concept to let go. Especially as it let us catch up on some of the other victors and learn a few more fates in the process. Far better, I think, than the original idea… Augustus being high on heroin for the Games and, in his drug induced madness, accidently becoming a hero. Suffice to say, I feel like I made the right choice in what to actually do here, haha. Anyway, stay tuned for more sooner than later… and as stated, one hell of an evil tribute is soon to show up. Whatever will the next victor do…?
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), Gloss Lord (63rd Games), Cashmere Lord (64th Games), Augustus Braun (67th 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), Lyme Rabe (51st Games), Enobaria Golding (62nd Games)
District 3: Honorius Perthshire (5th Games), Pi Orbit (22nd Games), Beetee Latier (37th Games), Wiress Plummer (47th Games), Yohan Fairbane (58th Games)
District 4: Museida Selkirk (3rd Games), Mags Flanagan (11th Games), Tide Luther (23rd Games), Librae Ogilvy (35th Games), Anchor Paddock (52nd Games), Finnick Odair (65th Games)
District 5: Shunt Gaspar (12th Games), Isobel Sparks (18th Games), Crimson Flanders (29th Games), Porter Tripp (38th Games), Neon Erg (48th Games), Wattzon Holmes (55th Games), Arendellian Spinner III (57th Games)
District 6: Chassis Macalister (31st Games), Bentley Corduroy (54th Games), Porsche London (56th Games)
District 7: Pliny Aransio (2nd Games), Fir Buzz (9th Games), Jack Tylos (21st Games), Snag Nakamura (34th Games), Blight Jordan (53rd Games), Logger Barlow (61st Games)
District 8: Woof Casino (16th Games), Paige Murphy (30th Games), Spool Nylon (42nd Games), Cecelia Mog (60th Games)
District 9: Mizar Aldjoy (1st Games), Gwenith Rosebud (13th Games), Teff Withers (28th Games), Laurel Flamsteel (36th Games), Tabbock Summers (43rd Games), Trevy Vex (Escaped 55th Games)
District 10: Stallion March (26th Games), Lammy Phyronix (40th Games), Pasture Gallows (59th Games)
District 11: Bear Redfoot (15th Games), Seeder Howell (33rd Games), Chaff Mitchell (45th Games), Spud Munroe (66th Games)
District 12: Duke Saint-Rose (6th Games), Haymitch Abernathy (50th Games)