Our hovercraft reaches the Game Center, on District 3, at the break of dawn. I'm still drowsy from a poorly slept night, but Plutarch is generous enough to share his amphet pills with me. I need to stay extra sharp today, the morning before the Overture is packed with last minute changes and tests to ensure the arena is working properly, and I have to meet with the leaders of the other four teams that work on the show.
I barely have time to enter the building on when a young intern from the Arena Team comes by, "I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Crane, but Mr. Latier requested your attention urgently." Great, Beetee asking to meet me in person can only mean one thing, problems.
The intern drives me in a small electric car through the tunnels under the arena. Beetee and his team's control room is right under the Cornucopia. They need to be there to coordinate any fixtures necessary, and to assist the Tribute Team. They're the ones that implant the trackers and deal with the cadavers.
As we drive, I notice that only half of the lights on the corridors are on, and the place is freezing. I'm cursing myself for not having my jacket with me when I see Beetee Latier standing in front of the arena's control room.
"I believe we have a situation, Mr. Crane," Beetee starts, he has dark circles under his eyes and a risp tired voice. We enter the room and on its center. There's a map of the arena identical to the one on the Game Center, where I work; however, on this map, several red lights blink constantly. "The arena generators showed problems on the last stress test, and that resulted in a shortage of power that's affecting the cameras on sectors B19, G5, and L15. District 3's power supply is simply not strong enough to sustain the arena's functions."
"Are you kidding me, Beetee? Your team had 14 months to build the arena, and you're giving me this information six hours to the Countdown?"
Beetee looks at me under his glasses, measuring carefully his words. "It was your decision to divide my team due to the demands of the Quarter Quell's pre-production. And as I recall, Mr. Crane, I did inform you that District 5 would be more suitable for this arena, but you saw it fit that District 5 should host the Quarter Quell, leaving us in this predicament."
District 3 was the second best option, the arenas for the Quarter Quells always take more resources than the regular ones. Still, Beetee worked without having any major issues for months, or at least that's what he was informing me.
"So what can we do? We can't have a reality show without the cameras."
"As you saw on your way here, we shut down the majority of our power supply to alleviate the pressure on the system. We do not have any heat, but the communication link between our teams should be working in a satisfactory manner."
"That's fine, we'll send you some coats, what about the cameras?"
Beetee takes off his glasses and takes his time cleaning them on his shirt. Usually, I don't mind him taking his time to think, but the cold is reaching my bones, and I need to get back to the Game Center, the Farewell Ride will end any minute now. "I suppose we could turn off the internal cameras and relocate the power to the arena," he finally says, "with your written permission, of course."
I let Beetee turn the power off our cameras under his guarantee that only a few members of his team will know about this. This isn't a huge deal, the last incident with a backstage worker that I can recall happened ages ago, and it was just an intern trying to steal a sponsor's gift out of the prop room. When the security crew questions me about it, and they inevitably will, I'll just have to explain that I had to an executive decision. I'm sure President Snow would prefer the cameras inside the arena working, instead of the cameras under it.
Back at the Game Room, the teams finish setting up their stations. The room is an auditorium with dozens of desks facing the map of the arena. It's big enough to fit the Camera Team, that records and edits all the footage, the Prop Team, responsible for the mutts and sending the tribute's parachutes and the producers, who make the game worth watching. This place is the reason why I started to work on the Hunger Games. Not even the president gets the view we get here.
"The crop is getting online now," a member of the Tribute Team says. The Farewell Ride must be over. One by one, the faces and heart rates of the tributes start to appear on the screens. Most of them averaging at 110 beats per minute, which is normal, most kids enter the arena at the verge of a panic attack. The unusual ones are like the female from District 2, whose heart rate barely raises above 70.
The cameras on Clove's Launch Room show her eating lunch without a care in the world as if the next days will be a vacation for her. She's completely different from Cato. He barely touched his food and doesn't sit down for a second, limping from one side of the room to the other taking deep breaths to calm himself down.
"Why is he limping?" I ask in a low voice to Plutarch, who sits by my side.
"Gallio didn't like the 8 he got on his score. So he spent the good part of the night beating the kid." Plutarch doesn't look at me, he stares at his cup of coffee, lost on his own thoughts. I wish I could say something to him. Gallio is a horrible man, but Cato doesn't seem to be any different. District 2 breeds nothing but monsters, that's why they have so many victors.
On Katniss' Launch Room, her lunch stays untouched on the table. She and her stylist sit on the couch holding hands. She looks pale, and her whole body trembles.
"Look, I'm not allowed to bet, but if I could I would bet of you," he says.
"Truly?" she says, her voice not higher than a whisper, her eyes full of tears.
"Truly." He leans down and kisses her on the forehead. "Good luck, girl on fire."
"Alright, it's time, start the five-minute call," I order to the Tribute Team. One of them pushes a bottom, and the announcer asks the tributes to stand on the launch platforms.
The Careers are the first to stand on their platforms. Others need to be pushed in by their stylists. The boy from District 5 cries and hits the glass begging to go home. His producer talks to him on a soft, paternal voice until he calms down. To my surprise, the little girl from 11 enters her platform alone and with a brave look on her face. Her heart rate is as high as any other tributes, but she doesn't show.
Peeta is the last one to get on the platform, he took every second he had stretching and taking deep breaths. He's not necessarily calm, he's focused. His face has the same determined look he had on the day he volunteered. If President Snow didn't want him dead, he would have been the perfect victor.
The Countdown starts, we do close-ups on the tributes that don't look in panic. Only the hardcore fans of the show know this, but the Hunger Games doesn't air live, as most people think. We allow ourselves to have a thirty seconds delay so we can scan the arena for the best shots, and on the Bloodbath, we use every single second that we can.
"I want an aerial shot, then a supply shot." The footage that'll be on air on a few seconds shows up the main screen. I take the time to look at the tributes. It doesn't take long for Peeta and Katniss to find each other on the platforms. We purposely placed them on opposite sides of the square to increase the chances of one of them crossing the Bloodbath.
"You removed the bow and quiver from the weapon selection," Plutarch says, giving me an inquiring look.
"High up orders," I say. From the corners of my eyes and can see Lavinia smiling.
Time's up, the clock reaches zero, and the siren announces the beginning of the 74th Hunger Games.
The tributes scatter all over the place, our tech alliance, the tributes from District 3 and 5 run South of the Cornucopia, meeting again only two blocks from the center of the arena. That's an excellent strategy, from their building they can observe the Careers and plan their move at the right time.
At the Cornucopia the Bloodbath goes as expected. Glimmer is the first to reach the weapons. She gets the spear and starts to fight the incoming tributes, protecting the supplies until the rest of the Careers gets to her. The male from District 8 attacks her with a club. They wrestle for a second, but she stabs him on the chest, making is heart rate line go flat. The boy's picture goes to a screen that marks the tributes rank in the game. His name was Lace Weft, he was thirteen-years-old, and he placed last.
Glimmer stands over his body catching back her breath, not noticing when Katniss runs behind her. She doesn't stop for the any of the backpacks, grabbing the easiest one on her way, but she does make the mistake of glancing at the weapons, probably looking for the bow that supposed to be there. On her distraction, she doesn't see Clove running at her.
They tumble together, none of them has any weapons, but Clove is a lot bigger, and is a better fighter. She pins Katniss down, holding the girl by the throat and punches her in the face twice before Peeta pulls her off Katniss and slams her on the ground. Clove's eyes widen, she seems to have problems breathing after the impact on the arena's stone pavement.
"Let's go!" Peeta shouts, and they are off running in no second. Even after the attack, Katniss has no problem keeping up with him. Clove gets back up, looking them disappear between the buildings and for the first time since her reaping, she smiles.
"They got the orange backpack, that's the one with the beef jerky?" Lavinia asks.
"No, that's the blue one," I state. We placed three types of backpacks with a variety of items that go from common, like sleeping bags, to rare, like medicine and fresh food. The orange ones only have basic survival gear in it. Food and water will be a problem for Peeta and Katniss. Especially since they're running on the opposite side of the only apparent water source of the arena. Unless they can find one of the exposed pipes, they're screwed.
The Bloodbath lasts another forty-five minutes. We lost two full districts, meaning their male and the female tributes, and two half districts, the girl from 9, and the boy from 6. At the total six kids enter the body count. A relatively low number. On my last game as a producer, sixteen tributes died on the first hour.
The producers from Districts 8 and 10 get up and clean their stations. Now that their tributes are off the game they aren't allowed to remain here. They wish us the best of luck and leave for the hovercraft that'll take them back to the Capitol.
"Let's sound the cannon, and get the hovercrafts ready, send them as soon as the Careers clear the square."
They take their time arranging all the remaining bags and weapons on a pile. Clove scavenges the corpses of the tributes she killed and takes out the tokens from their districts. She looks at them as trophies. Cato's breathing is irregular and shallow, he's in pain, but either Gallio doesn't see it, or he doesn't care.
"Let's eat and rest. At sundown, we'll hunt," Cato says.
"And who made you the leader?" Marvel challenges him. Cato grabs the sword and cleans the blood from it on his shirt while staring at Marvel. He looks like he aged a decade on the last hour, the scared boy from the Launch Room is gone, right now he's tired, angry, and violent.
"You got a problem with that?" he says, and Marvel backs away from him.
"Glad the kid isn't as dumb as he looks," Marvel's producer says.
For the next hours, we watch the tributes settle down and explore the arena. The girl from District 7 is the first to find the water source, the girl from 11 hides in the third floor of a roofless building. The tech alliance sits and waits, Foxface pull out a bottom off her jacket and put it on her mouth. That's a survival tactic to help with thirst that we don't teach on the training section. She's clever, maybe enough to make it to the top 5.
The only tributes doing something tv worthy are the volunteers from 12. They ran almost all the way to the edge of the arena and found a relatively safe and isolated place, a four-story building with a single entrance cluttered with wreckage. They make their way through it and set up a trap before going deeper into the building. Rarely ever another tribute falls for these things, but we keep the knot-tying class available because the prepping looks good on camera.
"We should be safe here for a while," Katniss says, an awkward silence falls between them. Peeta is probably dying to talk with her about the video, but he won't do it in front of the cameras. Instead, he looks at the small bruise formed on the place where Clove punched Katniss, right under her left eye.
"Are you okay?" he asks. His voice is concerned, but also full of sadness.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she pauses for a second, looks at his lips, then back to his eyes. "Thank you, Peeta."
He nods and goes upstairs without waiting for her.
"I'll get them fucking by day three, mark my words" Lavinia says, winning some laughs from the other producers. I'm deeply regretting assigning her to produce 12.
"No, they're not. We're dropping that," I say, getting up to get some coffee. The games this year are the worst. Thank God the lovers' thing is rare. Hopefully, no district will be stupid enough to try to copy it and make this a gimmick.
"What the hell, Seneca?" Lavinia says in a low tone. "This was your idea."
That's true, it was Lavinia's plan, but the idea was mine. At the time I was just thinking about the ratings, now I can only think about my own daughter. "I changed my mind, Lavinia."
"Why?"
"If you had a daughter, you'd understand," I say.
Lavinia looks at Plutarch and presses her lips. She comes closer and speaks is almost a whisper. "Look, I know Plutarch is your friend, but he's putting bad ideas in your head. That's crop, Seneca, not your daughter's classmates."
But they could have been. It doesn't matter how many times I try to convince myself of the opposite. The reality is that if Minerva was born on the wrong side of the Capitol hills that could be her fearing for her life, or having her relationship ruined by a lie. Plutarch was right. Those are children. I was too much of a power hungry coward to admit that.
"And I'm your boss, Lavinia. You'll do what I'm telling you to do, or next year you'll be watching the Quarter Quell in the producers' room of some stupid-ass dating competition that no one cares about."
"Fine," she says, running her fingers through her red hair, defeated. "Your call, Seneca."
Back at the arena, Katniss took out the contents of the backpack. She places in front of Peeta a bottle of iodine, a box of matches, a small coil of wire, a pair of night vision glasses, an empty canteen, rope, one hunting knife, and a sleeping bag.
"We need to find water and food. I haven't seen a single water source on the way here," Peeta says. He looks at the window, but they're too far to see the Cornucopia. "I just hope the only food here isn't the one with the Careers."
"I saw some birds, I could shoot then if I had a bow," she says.
"Did you saw one at the Cornucopia?"
She shakes her head. Peeta clenches his jaw, looking around, thinking.
"It was all my fault. I was stupid. We could make some clubs with the wood around here," she says, but Peeta is not listening.
He starts to cut pieces of the rope and tying a few sticks together with. Then he tears another piece of the rope apart making a string, which he ties on the ends of the sticks making an improvised bow. He's completely immersed in his work that he doesn't seem to notice Katniss gazing at him.
"It'll probably not going to last long, but here," he says. A small proud smile forms on his lips as he sees Katniss admiring it. "I'm going to make some arrows too."
Peeta spends the next hours of daylight making the arrows while Katniss practices with them using the backpack as a quiver. It's clunky, and she would do a lot better with the silver bow from our weapon selection, but this will have to do. They don't have nearly enough sponsors' credits to afford it. The Sun is setting when she manages to shoot down a bird after some failed attempts. Peeta makes a fire to cook it, and they sit on the roof eating it and watching the Dead Recap.
"Six dead, but none of them are Careers," she says.
"I don't think they're going to turn on each other on the first night again this year," Peeta says.
"We're not that lucky."
They lay down side by side on the roof and watch the night sky. For nearly a week I watched those two do almost everything together. She washed his hair on the shower, he finished her plates of food, every night they would cuddle up in bed, and he would ask her if she had a song for him, and every night she answered the same thing. Always.
"Did I ever told you about how I found out that I loved you?" Katniss says, and Peeta turns to her without hesitation. Lavinia did some damage, that's true, but I don't think it was enough to tear those two apart.
"Sure, it was that day of the storm," he says.
"No, that was the day I fell in love with you. I'm talking about the day I found out that I was in love with you." She gives a small shy laugh, one that Peeta mimics. "Do you remember our first kiss?"
"Yeah, our class was on cleaning duty, and you attacked me on the old music room," he laughs, and she playfully pushes him.
"I didn't attack you! I took you to the music room to show you the new song that I learned!"
"That you didn't knew how to play," he jokes.
"That piano was out of tune!" Katniss says. Peeta just nods his head, and mouths the word 'sure', making her roll her eyes at him. "Anyway, after I innocently tried to play the song and you kissed me, I panicked and walked straight home."
"Being left like that felt great by the way. Thanks for reminding me of that."
"Well, I never really thought about boys, or kissing until that day so excuse me if I needed some time to process it. But later that day you came to my house with my coat and the books I left behind in the school."
"It took me hours to find your house." The memories make Peeta smile, he leans in and holds her hand, the distance between them seems to be closing.
"That's when I knew. I'm mean, I knew what I felt about you was different, but I couldn't put a name on it until I saw you on my porch. That day I found out that I loved you, and I that would probably never stop loving you."
Peeta's teary eyes shine under the moonlight as he debates with himself. Katniss gets closer, resting his hand on her hip, which he gently caresses.
"Mockingjay, I need to ask you something," he says, but a song interrupts them.
It's an old theme song from a children's cartoon. Minerva used to sing it all the time. Now the Careers are singing it. They're less than a block away from Peeta and Katniss.
Hey guys, a guest reviewer brought up something that I feel I like should address right away since this plot point isn't coming back any time soon. Katniss and Peeta are selling their story to private companies, not the Capitol. The Capitol can do whatever they want without asking for permission, obviously, but on my research on dictatorships, I noticed that's normal for private companies to support dictatorships so they can profit from it. Also, the why Katniss and Peeta are allowed to choose the companies and keep the royalties for themselves will come back later. Don't worry.
And that guest mentioned that there are minor mistakes on the writing and that I could use a beta reader to help me out. So… I don't have any friends I could ask, and I do want to become a better writer, so does anyone wants to volunteer as tribute? (sorry for the pun, I couldn't help myself)