Chapter 13: Gunner

District Twelve tries to forget Gunner Tsalagi.

They wince when his name is called at the Reapings. He is not pictured in the Justice Building. When asked who their first Victor is, Haymitch will be the answer with an unsavory encounter to follow.

Few speak his name. Even the lax Peacekeepers will get on those who do. But some will. With a few coins and bowl of gutter stew, the ones old enough to remember and old enough not to care will start speaking.

Gunner was from Carbonville, the better part of the Seam. Just him and his parents, unusual for a Twelve. He was an obedient kid. Played by the rules, went to school, kept his head low. Starved like the rest of them. The only noteworthy thing about him was his beauty. He was simply breathtaking. Long black hair, sharp cheekbones. Deep tan skin. A small yet sturdy build. Eyes the color of coal dust. He was popular among the girls but never did much with them (few knew of his secret relationship with the mailman's son).

The district knew what to expect when he was reaped. Their Tributes could not win. Cree Raccroc's disappearing act had ruined it for them. So they cried, cried, cried as this year's sacrifice was whisked off to slaughter. But Gunner's eyes were dry. So were his district partner's.

Janine Craftsman was from Fire Landings, the closest Twelve would get to middle-class. Most of the tears were for her. Everyone knew the Craftmans. Anyone who was anyone had their hand-crafted furniture sitting in their home. Even the mayoress had exclusive pieces at her estate. The Seam couldn't help but feel a little satisfied. A merchant's child had been reaped. Ha! The odds were for once in their favor. Gunner and Janine were not as antagonistic. He patted her on the shoulder. She squeezed his hand in support. The cameras flashed. It was the most affection District Twelve had ever shown one another. The simple show of support was the hot topic in the coal district for days to come.

Putting behind the bad blood that was now irrelevant in the big city, the unlikely pair stuck together, more for practicality than want. While most avoided their district partners, they were never apart. It was difficult, Janine's lack of useful skills and Gunner's impatience, but they made it work. They had to. She focused on survival skills while he took on every combat station he could find. The unusual vigor the handsome tan boy and lanky blonde possessed did not raise the Careers' suspicions. Twelves were, at best, target practice. This year would be no different.

The Capitol doted on the pair. Gunner was "so exotic!". Janine had "that coal miner quaintness about her" (District One wasn't much to look at that year). Their stylists queued in, sexing up Gunner's image and making Janine the simple-minded, girl-next-door. There were a handful of cheers for the decently dressed pair at the Opening Ceremony. Interview Night kept the tempo going. Gunner's poise and suave appearance was a hit. He spoke and flirted with the crowds with such ease. Capitolites were hanging onto his every word. Janine was surprisingly witty, cracking well-executed rebuttals to Thalia's jabs. Not as many televisions turned off during their interviews. Even granted one sponsor. A first for Twelve.

It was a simple arena, a village dotted with little cottages surrounding the Cornucopia deep in the woods. An exact replica of the shoddy parts of the Seam. Gunner and Janine understood the moment they rose from the Stockyard: this one was for them.

They figured out quick that the horn was bare, bolting while the others were slaughtered. They did well in the Games. The cottages on the outskirts of the arena provided them with shelter and plenty of supplies along with Gunner's one sponsor. Janine followed Gunner's orders without question. Peaceful but merciless was their tactic, killing only when attacked first. Gunner did the dirty work while Janine kept watch, closing her eyes when things got too bloody. To their relief, most of the action went to Three and Seven, the year's showstoppers. Playing a spectacular game of keepaway, the separate groups kept the audience and Careers busy while their competition laid low.

Back home, the coal district watched their first alliance unfold.

They were doubtful ('They won't make it past the first night').

Nervous ('Hope Gamemakers leave them be.').

Hopeful ('They're doing pretty good. Haven't seen any trouble yet.').

And then, excited ('The final eight! The final eight!').

Hope was in the air. Media crew rolled in, themselves visibly shocked to be in the dusty district for anything besides the Victory Tour. Maybe they forgot about Cree's act. Nine years was a long time ago. Maybe, just maybe, they will have a Victor this year. There also was change. Merchants invited Seam into their stores to chit-chat over a pleasant meal. Lunch tables mixed as kids of all skintones gossiped and placed bets. Peacekeepers didn't know what to make of the difference, so they let it be. Harmless camaraderie was not against the law. The tool used to separate district dwellers was slowly bringing them together.

A sudden landslide wiped out the dazzling outlier alliances sixth day in, much to the disappointment of the audience. The competition was now to the final four: the exhausted District One versus the well-rested District Twelve. The battle was simply incredible. Gunner stole the show. No one, Gunner included, expected the skills he learned in Training to have any effect, but an effect did they have. With a crude bludgeon, he killed the boisterous boy while Janine took on his accomplice. No matter her energy, Janine was no match for the One girl, now half-crazed and bewildered by the bizarre turn of events.

"You don't want to do this," Gunner kept his voice calm, watching as the sword still laid high in Janine's chest. He couldn't look away. Take away the blood and she could have been sleeping.

Spit and blood flew from the Career's mouth. "Shut up Twelve! Now come over and let Mama gut you like your girlfriend here."

Serenity's not-so-serene mental state was better than any weapon he could ever wield.

Three fingers rose from Gunner's lips to the sky as he stared down his district partner from the hovercraft. The Capitol would wonder what that strange gesture meant for weeks to come.

He went home a hero. Merchant and Seam embraced as they cried tears of glee. They won! They finally won! There was food, there were parties, there was music, there was liquor, there was joy. For the first time since The Dark Days, District Twelve was in harmony. Everyone was happy to have Gunner Tsalagi as their first Victor.

Except Mr. Craftsman.

They told him to lighten up. Be happy one came back. Don't kill the mood. Somebody had to die. Just get over it. He tried, tried to see the positive. But he couldn't. His little girl was gone and they were celebrating it while this Seam fucker got to live. It was embarrassing. It was unfair. Janine was a Craftsman. She deserved the crown.

Just get over it. While little dirt specks ran in and out of his proud establishment contaminating his products and tarnishing his good name?

Things had to be set right.

So on one clear, cool night, a week before the Victory Tour, Mr. Craftsman rounded up his reluctant boys and paid a visit to the Victor's Village. There were no visible weapons with the men and Gunner had expressed interest in talking things over with Janine's family. Give half his earnings for their forgiveness. 'To pay my respects sir,' Mr. Craftsman told the suspicious Peacekeeper. 'For a job well done.'

The gruesome murders sent shockwaves throughout Panem.

The Capitol was floored. 'VICTOR AND FAMILY MURDERED IN COLD BLOOD!', 'A DISTRICT PARTNER'S REVENGE: GUNNER TSALAGI'S TRAGIC END". Interviewers hounded the streets of Twelve, shoving a microphone towards anyone who passed by. Capitolites saw the district in a new light. The heinous crime would be inspiration for the various art groups of the big city. Gunner's one sponsor demanded his money back, taking the Capitol government to court for emotional distress. The claim was settled for a large lump sum. It would take decades before anyone dared sponsored anything from the coal district.

The districts were stunned. To kill one's own Victor was unthinkable. Both Career and outlier Victors were horrified. 'You cannot give these savages the title of Victor,' Brilliance spoke to camera crews lined outside his home. He stood with a confidence of someone who did not lose two Tributes to District Twelve. 'Such honor is too much for their feeble minds.'

District Twelve flew into madness. The Seam, bewitched by agony, attacked the merchants. Houses were set alight. Stores were looted. Many were injured. Mr. Craftsman and his youngest boy, the only survivors of the killings, were hanged in the main square. Ms. Craftsman, now without husband or children, was found dead in the store's cellar. Only the Peacekeepers saved the district from going up in complete flames. As soon as the district came together, they came apart. Seam would never trust the merchants. The merchants wouldn't dare show their face around the Seam. The bad blood was now legitimate and nothing would clean it up.

Amandus Snow turned off a confusing interview with a filthy woman named "Greasy Sae" and took a heavy hit of bliss. He leaned back in his chaise, shoving a prostitute away out of sheer frustration. The sorriest district was given a Victor only for him to be killed by his own people. A massive disappointment. Tarpeia was right. It was a ridiculous plan. No good deed goes unpunished, he saw. Well, he would find another way to capture Cree Raccroc. Nine years later and the boy was still nowhere to be found. He snapped for another platter of relief and cooed for the frightened whore to return back to his arms.

It would be a long year for him.


I've always been curious about Twelve's first Victor. Who was this mystery person who came before our protagonist? Hope you enjoyed it.