And now we see who the cannons were! Enjoy!
42 - Day 5 (II)
Celestia Snow, President of Panem
"Things have been moving rather quickly."
Celestia nods once at Horace's statement. "Given that the tributes with a will to fight have been replaced with… clumsier children, it's not all that a surprise."
That earns her a heavy sigh from Horace. It's to be expected, she thinks—the man always finds something to critique her over whenever they have a conversation.
"And is there anything you're taking away from this?" he asks her. Celestia hums, genuinely considering his question, but ultimately shakes her head. Horace sighs again. He stops walking and reaches up to squeeze the bridge of his nose.
"What's there to take away from a Hunger Games?" she retorts. It's childish, but everyone has their own childish pleasures in the world. Her's just happens to be the national sport. "It's just District kids."
He runs his hand down his face, and she can hear his scruff from the distance they stand. For a five o'clock shadow, it sure makes as much noise as a full beard. "I'm not—"
"Then what are you here to lecture me about, Mr. Becskei?" Celestia beckons him to follow, resuming their journey to the Gamemaker HQ. It's almost time for the final eight, and she wants to see who makes the cut before Lola hunts down family members for interviews.
Horace follows her, his long strides keeping up with her easily. He shoves his hands in his trouser pockets and looks down at her through the corner of his eye. "Has it ever occurred to you that using the same system for a hundred years will start to…" He pauses, searching for the right word. "Become faulty?"
Celestia squawks out a laugh. He doesn't laugh with her.
"Oh my God, you're serious," she wheezes. She spots the door to Gamemaker HQ and veers towards it, getting ready to open it and greet Malvolia with this lovely joke of an idea she's been told. "Do go on, Mr. Becskei. How would you fix its faults?"
As she reaches for the doorknob, he says, "A great many children who survive the reapings go on to become adults who resent the Capitol. They're being punished for something they had no part in, and neither did their parents. At least three generations have passed since the Dark Days, Celestia—any rebellion in those families has either died out or fled for Thirteen."
She pauses, looking over her shoulder with a quirked brow.
"I'm saying," Horace goes on, "that perhaps we should turn the Hunger Games back into its original concept—a way of punishment for those unloyal, while those we know are patriots can grow to preach the mercy of the Capitol. Look at the Hemingways, for example—"
"Oh, here we go." Celestia rolls her eyes. She goes to open the door, but Horace plants a hand against it and stops her.
"Celestia, if there'd been extra time to volunteer, we wouldn't be facing this absolute mess of a scenario right now. You had no problems implementing Lola's ideas—"
"Lola wanted to prevent pre-Games suicides—"
"—And I'm trying to prevent rebellion. In the best case scenario, both of the Hemingways are lost to their parents and the seed of rebellion is planted. Eight is still rampant with crime compared to the other Districts. You may think it's inconsequential, but the truth will come out sooner or later. Chambray can't pretend to be her brother forever, and the moment she slips up everyone will see how one-sided and exploitable the Games are."
Celestia doesn't argue. As much as she wants to humour Calico like Malvolia suggested, Horace has a point. If the boy dies, his sister may very well expose the fault in the Games Celestia has tried to make bigger and better over the last fifteen years. If the boy lives, who knows how long it'll take for some gossipy investigative journalist to uncover the truth?
"The Hemingways are working-class kids from a blue-collar family," Horace continues, voice lower. "If we'd focused on those who'd committed crimes against the Capitol rather than those who grew up without even a single thought of rebellion, we wouldn't have as big—if any mess to clean up. We may not have as many patriots as we do citizens without opinion, but we do have people who are complacent. If they see someone who breaks the rules around them being punished, you know what they'll think?"
Celestia sucks in a breath. "What will they think, Horace?"
"Thank God I did as I was told."
Now that's a way of thinking she hasn't heard in a while. Damn Horace, his ramblings about improving and revising her beloved Games is starting to make sense. Calico and Chambray are a PR nightmare. If neither had been reaped because of their upstanding upbringing and family, then maybe all of this wouldn't be falling apart in her hands. Celestia clenches the doorknob tighter.
Damn him.
She nods once and says, just as quiet as he had been, "I'll think it over after the final eight interviews conclude."
Horace pulls his hand back, letting her open the door at last. "Thank you, President Snow. I promise you won't regret considering it."
Celestia huffs. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Mr. Becskei."
She pulls the door open, and inside the Gamemakers all turn to them. Celestia puts her game face on, beaming at the sight of Malvolia helming it all.
"Mally, look how far we are!" she cheers. Malvolia lets out a squee and throws her arms out, beckoning Celestia over for a hug. Horace ambles in quietly behind her as she hurries over to her friend's side. The two embrace, just as giddy as they were when Malvolia pulled out the Quell twist.
A small line of Gamemakers stands behind Malvolia, all having risen out of respect for Celestia. She only recognises Magnus, who'd been in the same classes as Malvolia at the university. The others are a younger Gamemaker, with long hair and deer antlers implanted just at the crown of their head; a woman who's closer to Malvolia's age than anyone else, her face somewhat familiar but not enough for Celestia to know her name; and of course, an intern from the university with a look of utter nervousness on his face, like he's about to explode if even a single thing goes wrong.
Celestia gestures to them, but the one with antlers notices Horace's presence and hurries over to his side.
"Uncle, you're here?" comes the confused demand. Horace smiles at the Gamemaker and nods.
"The president asked for me to be present," he says. "Hope you don't mind?"
"A relative, Mr. Becskei?" Celestia calls, interrupting them. As much as she hates gossiping journalists, she does so hate to be out of the loop. "One you neglected to tell me of?"
"You never asked," Horace tells her, smug. At the very least, Malvolia introduces the Gamemaker.
She gestures to the younger and says, "This is Carna, Mr. Becskei's…. What was the word, Carna?"
"Nibling," Carna supplies matter-of-factly.
"Nibling, yes. Child of his sister. She's similar to Simoleon, using neutral pronouns as well as feminine ones." Malvolia shrugs. "She's rather excellent at thinking outside the box. Even suggested the use of the sabotages when the issue of half the tributes being Capitolites arose."
Celestia looks to Carna with raised brows. She holds out a hand, which the young Gamemaker wastes no time in taking.
"I look forward to seeing your work, Mx. Becskei," Celestia tells her.
Malvolia moves on to the other Gamemakers, introducing them one by one as Carna returns to her place in line.
"We have Eunice, who just joined this year. Her qualifications were astounding, and I've had her assigned to the vital signs of outer District tributes. Next to her is our intern, Esra—he has aspirations to design muttations once he graduates. And, of course, you know Magnus Tweed."
Magnus nods. "Madam President."
Celestia nods back. She peeks over Malvolia's shoulder, to the screens displaying the remaining four alliances. There's blank screens around them, in sleep mode until someone branches away to form a fifth viewpoint.
"Shall we get to the good stuff, then?" Malvolia asks the two politicians in front of her.
Malvolia Nero, Head Gamemaker
The moment Morganite leaves the cornucopia is the moment they all get into their places. Eunice hovers over the vital signs for all the tributes, one of which is already failing. Esra hovers behind Carna, watching as she takes notes on the tributes and logs their data into the system. Magnus, just as he had been a mere day ago, still lazes in his wheely chair and watches everyone else work.
Malvolia stands in front of the screens and pays careful attention to the tributes on display.
The first thing she notices is the alliance formed by Morganite, consisting of Gossamer, Octavia, Ham and Calico as well as herself. An odd teamup, but she's definitely thinking objectively if her plan is to end the Games as soon as possible. Which tributes would be better suited to self-destructing while facing off against Cetronia, if not them?
So far the only ones not involved are Luxor and Finn, which she's sure will change once the numbers are whittled down. Morganite wants out, most likely, and getting out means hunting down the rest once the wall is knocked down. Whether or not Morganite lives that long remains to be seen, though.
"Turn up the volume for the Ten-Eight-Seven-Six group," she tells Carna. Carna does so obediently, raising the volume just enough to hear the group over the others conversing.
They all stand near each other, with the exception of the weakened Calico, as Morganite discusses her plan. It's a solid plan—overwhelm Cetronia and pick off the others, or simply leave once Cetronia's dead and find the other District tributes—but Malvolia knows it won't go as smoothly as the naive girl wants it to. Too much pride between them all. Too much desire to be the one to win.
"If it's the five of us, we might be able to do it," Morganite finishes. Gossamer crosses his arms and looks at her down his nose.
"She's dying," he says, nodding down at Calico. Malvolia is surprised that Gossamer, of all people, hasn't found out about the boy's identity. "I can probably contribute as two people with my experience. I am a Peacekeeper's son, after all."
Octavia bristles, and she snaps, "Ham's dying too, thanks to you. And y'know what? I'll count myself as two people as well. You don't cut up and haul meat everywhere and get nothing out of it."
Gossamer shrugs. "Everyone dies at some point," he says airily.
"I doubt they'll even make it to the cornucopia with all this animosity," Malvolia sighs. She looks to Eunice. "How's Cyber's vitals?"
"He's shut down his nervous system and heart," she reports. "He's on borrowed time as of five minutes ago."
A shame. Even if he's one of the tributes who leaves, he won't survive. No one knows how his body functions or even the technology he'd been fused with. Dr. Tronovsky never left any notes, though Malvolia suspects the uncle who'd sold Cyber to the Capitol had something to do with that.
What a waste of life-saving information, she thinks.
"They're on the move," Carna interrupts her. Malvolia looks back at the screen, and she sees the girls have backed away somewhat as Gossamer gestures to Calico.
"Gimmie a minute," he says. "I have to take care of something."
To Malvolia's surprise, Gossamer immediately sets to work hiding Calico once the girls can't see him anymore. Gossamer hoists the boy over his shoulder, met with minimal resistance—"Hemingway's gone unconscious," Eunice reports—as he heads for the former Odair Street. She cracks a smile as she watches him shift rubble, only to bury Calico underneath the blanket and then layer the rubble over him carefully.
Smart boy, she thinks. Guess he wasn't lying about respecting his idea of Chambray. Malvolia wonders if Calico will stay put, or if someone else will stumble upon him.
"Gossamer's got his District partner chosen," Malvolia announces. All eyes move for her, her team waiting for her to go on. "He would've either killed or left Calico for dead if he didn't care. It's safe to say we can apprehend Chambray Hemingway. Detain her until we know for certain Calico dies from the aspestine in his lungs."
Two Gamemakers leave the room, telling her they'll alert the Peacekeepers in Eight.
Before Gossamer leaves, he rifles through the bag he and Calico share and pulls out the chemistry kit. It hasn't seen use yet, but now Malvolia knows for certain it will. He pulls out one of the vials, the substance inside a thin white powder.
"Zoom in on the label," Malvolia says. One of the older Gamemakers switches on another screen, showing a still image of the label on the vial prior to Gossamer removing it. "Sodium."
Gossamer jogs to the lake where the girls wait for him. He has the vial hidden up his sleeve, a dangerous place to hide it in case the lid comes loose, but it seems he's desperate to keep a literal trick up his sleeve. Ham holds her shield in a defensive stance, looking about ready to keel over any second now. Malvolia chews her lip. The girl won't survive this skirmish.
They move in the direction of the cornucopia—Morganite armed with one of Octavia's spare knives, as well as her own, while Octavia wields the lamb cleaver and Gossamer twirls the hatchet in his hand, a weak Ham shambling behind them. They appear to have a plan in mind, Morganite and Gossamer moving to one side while Ham and Octavia move to the other. Everyone in the Gamemaker HQ watches with bated breaths as the four tributes advance, both Morganite and Octavia running their knives loudly against the metal casing of the cornucopia.
From another screen, Cetronia wakes up with a start. Croix and Valentina spring to their feet, the former grabbing for anything he can use to defend himself while the latter shakily loads a bolt onto her crossbow. Cetronia grabs her morning star, storming past the duo, and she emerges with it raised to strike the first person she sees.
Cyber's vitals go dark. He's officially braindead.
"Call it," Malvolia orders. Just as Ham emerges, shield at the ready to take Cetronia's blow, the cannon fires in the distance.
Ham flinches, the shield dropping for just a second. It's all Cetronia needs, swinging the morning star directly down on Ham's skull. It caves in, and she drops to the ground like a sack of bricks. Octavia screeches and tackles Cetronia. Ham's cannon fires.
Gossamer and Morganite emerge from the other side, Morganite ready to lunge at Cetronia with her knives. Croix dashes out, his weapon—a sickle attached to a chain—aiming for Morganite. The blade doesn't hit her, the girl shoved out of the way by Gossamer. Instead it buries itself in his shoulder, and Gossamer grabs the chain and yanks Croix his way.
Everyone in Gamemaker HQ lets out audible hisses of sympathy as Gossamer smashes the vial of sodium all over Croix's face with his bare hand. Croix screams, and behind him Valentina begins weeping and screaming as well.
"Finn and Luxor are on the move," Carna reports. The boys in question are shimmying a bedsheet out of the rubble, their supplies balanced carefully upon it.
Malvolia looks back to the skirmish happening once more, and she sees Cetronia shove Octavia off of her with a loud yell. Octavia lands on Ham's body, blocking Cetronia from her morning star. She pulls the shield out from under her dead ally as Morganite tries to get Cetronia's attention. A swift backhand from the older girl sends Morganite flying, her knives all but lost from her grip as she lands just feet away from Cyber.
By the time Cetronia turns back around to face Octavia, the shield is above Octavia's chest and blocks the first punch thrown her way.
Behind them, Gossamer hacks at the blinded Croix's leg before kicking him to the ground, the teen crawling away with blood trailing after him. Gossamer's sights turn to Valentina, who's aiming carefully at Octavia, and he jumps into the fray once more just before she can fire. Gossamer disrupts her line of sight just enough for her to scream and try to get away from him, and the bolt fires by accident.
It goes right through both of Cetronia's cheeks.
Cetronia screeches and flies off of Octavia in pain. As this happens, Gossamer swings the hatchet down at Valentina's arm and kicks her to the ground. He pulls the sickle out of his shoulder, wincing in tremendous pain, and wraps the chain around her neck. He yanks it as hard as he can while holding her down with his foot.
"Losing Valentina," Eunice reports.
"Keep an eye on it…"
As this happens, Morganite is back on her feet and sprints over to Cetronia, a spare knife in her hand. Half of her face is already bruising, her lips bleeding and her nose clearly broken from the landing. She drives the knife into Cetronia's back and drags in down, and Cetronia kicks back at her. Morganite falls to the ground with a grunt.
"Valentina's gone." Eunice fires the cannon.
Gossamer takes a moment to breathe, and as he does Octavia staggers back to her feet and throws the shield to the ground. She picks her lamb cleaver back up, aiming to slice at Cetronia with it, but she doesn't get the chance. The blade knicks the taller girl's shoulder as she grabs Octavia by the collar of her shirt and throws what has to be the most painful punch Malvolia's ever seen hit a face.
Cetronia gets in two more punches, staggering Octavia, before Gossamer jumps back into the fray and buries the hatchet as deep as he can into Cetronia's shoulder. Morganite joins him, Octavia holding Cetronia's fist in place as best she can—and then another hit, and Eunice announces that her vitals are failing. Just as this is announced, Cetronia drops Octavia and turns back to Gossamer and Morganite.
They both stare in horror as she pulls the hatchet from her shoulder and raises it above her head, ready to strike them. And then Octavia, weakened but still with a spark of fight left in her, yanks the morning star from Ham's corpse and lobs it at Cetronia's legs.
Cetronia drops to the ground, drops the hatchet, and Morganite uses the window of opportunity to drive her knife through Cetronia's chest.
"Losing Cetronia," Eunice reports, voice colder. Malvolia's never heard her use such a tone before.
"Who are we losing quicker, her or Octavia?"
Eunice hesitates. "Cetronia, ma'am."
Malvolia nods. She watches as Gossamer and Morganite, wheezing and catching their breaths, turn to Octavia. Cetronia drops to the ground, the fight gone from her body, and she locks gazes with the battered and bruised Octavia as the two begin to perish.
In a final act of defiance, the speakers pick up Octavia slurring at Cetronia, "You're… excused…"
Cetronia's cannon fires.
Horace Becskei, Guest of Celestia Snow
"Hold on," he says. Carna looks back at him, his nibling probably realising the same thing he has. "How many are left now?"
All eyes fall to Malvolia.
"Shit," she hisses. "We had interviews."
"I'm sure we'll be excused for lack of numbers," Celestia scoffs. She walks over to where Malvolia stands, placing a hand on her shoulder. "That was quite the spectacle, after all."
He glances over at the Gamemaker watching vital signs. Something isn't right, he thinks. She's tense now, staring at the screen in front of her with blank eyes. Horace swallows thickly, and he looks back over at Carna. She's got Gamemakers either side of her, and he can't help feeling like she's been boxed in.
Eunice, the Gamemaker he's feeling off about, rises from her seat. She fires Octavia's cannon, announcing the girl dead, and staggers over to Malvolia and Celestia. Her hands are in her pockets.
Horace clears his throat. "Carna, a word?"
Carna obediently rises from her seat and joins his side. He leans down and whispers in her ear, "Go get the Peacekeepers. Pretend you're getting a drink."
Without missing a beat, she calls out, "Getting a coffee; anyone want anything while I'm out?"
A few people yell out their orders, thanking Carna as she strides out of the room calmly. When Horace looks back at Eunice, he finds his gaze being met by cold, dead eyes. She raises one finger to her lips, shushing him like she's just shared a special secret with him, and then turns back to President Snow and Head Gamemaker Nero.
"Ma'am," Eunice says in a flat tone. Malvolia inclines her head to her. "I'm afraid I have to resign from my position."
Several Gamemakers all pause their businesses. Some of them reach into their coat pockets. Horace watches in horror as one prematurely reveals their knife.
"Malvolia, Celestia!" he yells. Eunice lunges, her knife digging in deep into Celestia's torso. Malvolia shoves her off, eyes wide as Celestia stumbles back. She falls into the arms of another Gamemaker—and he drives his knife into her back.
Horace sprints forward and slugs the Gamemaker. He can feel a few blades slicing at his skin, but he knows how to fight back. He wanted to go into Peacekeeping before politics became his true calling, for crying out loud!
Magnus, previously bored and prone, springs to life like he's been reborn. He hurls the chair he'd been sitting on at Eunice, knocking her to the floor. Absolute carnage breaks loose. Malvolia dives for the intercom at her station, and she yells a warning into it. It blares through the PA system so loudly that a few of the assaulting Gamemakers cringe in pain.
"Attention all staff!" she yells. One Gamemaker makes it behind her, but is tackled to the ground by the intern. Esra deserves a fucking medal, Horace thinks. "We've been breached by unknown assailants! Lockdown the Games Building until the foreseeable future! The president is down! I repeat, the president is down!"
A knife is thrown at her with trained precision. It slices Malvolia's throat, miraculously nonlethal, and she drops to her knees as she attempts to put pressure on the wound.
Celestia grabs Horace's jacket, leaning on him with laboured breaths. He looks down at her, the Gamemakers slowly being taken down by those loyal to the president. Blood flies everywhere, injuries all over the place, but one by one they're apprehended. Peacekeepers storm into the room, Carna behind them, and she stops at the sight with a horrified gasp.
Horace lowers Celestia to the ground, easing the strain on her legs holding her up. She stares at him with unbridled rage, and he feels like slapping himself. If he'd known this would happen, he wouldn't have pushed for precautions against rebellion so forcibly. This is salt in Celestia's wound, a fact she can't look past anymore for the sake of fun.
"You—" she gasps. Horace holds her still, trying to help with her wounds. She needs to be careful. For all they know, her lungs could be filling with blood as they speak. "H—Horace—"
"We need to get her out!" he yells back to the Peacekeepers. Celestia smacks him hard against the face, surprising Horace into silence.
When he looks back down at her, she snarls, "Do it."
"Celestia?"
"Punish—" She wheezes. "—Punish them!"
The Peacekeepers he'd called over carry her out. As quickly as it had started, the attack is brought to a halt before Horace's eyes.
He stares down at the floor, where too much blood has been shed outside the arena. He rises to his feet, Carna rushing to his side, and fixes his jacket.
What an absolute mess this Quell has been.
*Cracks knuckles* Alright, just once I'm doing eulogies during a day chapter. Y'all went through too much with this chapter jnfkkfdngd but first a QQ!
QQ #37: What was the biggest surprise of this chapter and why?
Eulogies:
11th Place: Cyber Tronovsky, C-District 7, 12 - Sent by Platrium
Died of system failure
A good boy... Writing his scenes with Morg killed me ngl. He played a big part in starting this big skirmish, whether he knew it or not, and the fact that he was able to go peacefully under the sky, watching the clouds makes me happy for him. Rest, li'l guy, and thanks for sending him Plat.
10th Place: Phyllis "Ham" Hamilton, District 7, 18 - Made by me
Maced by Cetronia
She was my character and I hadn't intended for her to live this long wheeze. Rip little Hammy, putting up with a hole in your stomach for five dang days hot damn.
9th Place: Valentina Teagan, C-District 1, 16 - Sent by misfit-right-in
Strangled to death by Gossamer
Val was a good contender for victor! She loved adventure and wanted to give new things a try, but overall she got in over her head and couldn't handle the stress of the Games. It felt like a good place to put her after asking myself where, but she'll be missed for sure! RIP our volunteer Val. Thanks for sending her, Cass.
8th Place: Cetronia Livius, District 2, 17 - Sent by palm-biitch
Died of her injuries inflicted by Gossamer, Morganite and Octavia
Three people to take her down, hot damn. Cetronia felt like a really good hidden villain after all the stuff that went down pre-Games, especially since she was just so much more experienced and physically powerful than everyone else. I liked showing her rational but softer side with Cyber, sparing him by reminding him what victory will bring him. Thanks for sending her, Jerm.
7th Place: Octavia Faye, District 10, 17 - Sent by mukkou
Died of her injuries inflicted by Cetronia
The temptation to put her in 8th was so strong lmao. Octavia was a great source of salt though and her dialogue with Ham was gold. The fact that she's a Capitolphobic character made for amazing interactions with C-District tributes, which not many other District tributes had - maybe only shared with Jareth? It was fun writing her, thanks for sending her, Blair.
Till next time!