AN: Time for the next Victors' meeting! (I just got a new computer that I'm not used to typing with; cut me some slack on typos this time around)!
Katniss POV
It's Tuesday. 4:00 pm. Time for our next meeting. I can't say I'm excited, but I am definitely ready. My left knee bounces as we all silently wait for Paylor to arrive. As the door creaks open, Annie takes a deep breath and clutches her son to her breast. Last time she left him with a babysitter, but apparently she's too paranoid to leave him again. No surprise, really, after what happened when Finnick left her. Still enthralled in the aftershock of marriage, he suddenly left. And then suddenly, forever.
"Ahem." Paylor clears her voice, and we all jump to attention. "Welcome, victors. I am hoping to make this our final meeting before the announcement and countdown to the Games begin. We may need an extra one, depending on whether or not we can get everything covered with everyone still present." She smiles at Annie, then turns and frowns at Johanna. Ha. Then she straightens up, pulls out a porta-holo, and turns it on. Up pops a chart of things that needed to be cleared up before the Games. We all turn and focus on it.
"Number one. Tribute selection."
A chorus of voices breaks out at once. We all have different opinions about what is arguably the most important part of the punishing feature of these Games. Any Games, in fact, where victors' kids usually got reaped as soon as they were twelve years old. Paylor puts up an open palm, signifying silence. She starts to speak. "The Hunger Games have always been intended for punishment. The tributes, their family, and friends were the ones being punished. That is why how we select the tributes is of the utmost importance. There are a few methods that are first and foremost on my mind when I think of this. The first of course, is the normal reaping. We would put everyone's name into one bowl, one for boys and one for girls. Since there will be twelve names drawn from the bowl, rather than one, there would be no tesserae or extra slips for older children. It would be straightforward and simple, but Capitolians almost as downtrodden as district people risk being reaped. Which brings us to the second method."
"A normal reaping would occur, but only select children's names will be in the bowl. For example, if their father was a shopkeeper, the children would be safe. On the other hand, a boy whose mother was a Gamemaker would be in the bowl. So, moving on. Method th…. Yes, Haymitch?" I look over at Haymitch, who is raising his hand to add something. "I like that idea. It's a good one. But it's not really fair to those whose parents were, for example, on a prep team. My idea is that we should have an increasing number of slips for increasing status levels. Each status level should have it's own bowl, well, two, one for boys and one for girls. To give you an idea, a regular child's slip would be 1 times 1. It would be in the 1 bowl. Someone whose parents were on a prep team, 2 times 2. In the 2 bowl. Worked in the training centre, 3 times 3. And so on until President Snow's granddaughter, whose slips would be at 12 times 12. We'll have to figure out a boy at for the same level. Obviously, these two would certainly be reaped. Would that work?" Everyone can see that Paylor loves this idea. She facepalms. "Why on earth didn't I think of that before? I really like that! Let us have a vote on our options so far."
Johanna loves it. So does Enobaria. Peeta and Beetee both think that if the Games really are happening, this is the fairest way to do things. Annie stares mutely ahead, acknowledging no one. Me? I think Haymitch is a genius, which is something I will never tell him. Ever. EVER. "Well, I think it's decided. This is how tributes will be selected for the Capitol Games." Paylor turns away and quickly types something into her laptop.
"Next topic: The arena."
"You guys are the Gamemakers. This part is all up to you. I'm off for a coffee break. I don't think I can stand you guys for another thirty seconds." She turns to leave, then stops and turns back. She gestures at Peeta. "Call me when you're done," and throws him a walkie-talkie.
The minute Paylor leaves the room, everyone starts to talk at once. Annie peers at me through the babble, and utters one word. "Mockingjay." I know what she means. I know what I must do. These victors will look to me as a leader, some albeit grudgingly. I take a deep breath and clear my throat. Gathering my courage, I get out of my place and take Paylor's place at the head. "Everyone, please calm down. We will go around the table, and each take a turn to describe our ideas. At the end, we will take a vote." At this idea of democracy and reasoning, everyone seems to quiet down. "Any questions?" Johanna is the only one. Will I have to improvise? As it turns out, her question is typical Johanna, and we all know how to deal with this. "What happens if my idea is so gory that all you puny wimps will immediately veto it?" "Johanna, this is the Hunger Games." I remind her. "There has always been an aspect of pleasing the Capitol audience to it. Now, we're pleasing the districts. There will be replays of these Games for years to come. If the Games are an hour long ordeal in a meat grinder that even adults can't watch, how will that go over? These rebels need to be able to show this to their twelve-year-old daughter and say, look, there's President Snow's granddaughter, fighting in the Hunger Games. Just like your older brother. Here we are, getting vengeance. And anyhow, isn't the whole point for the parents to suffer? If the parents know that there's a 23 in 24 chance of their kid being killed in an hour, then they'll be pretty antsy. But once the kid's dead, with only an hour of suffering to boot, they switch to recovery from trauma mode. On the other hand, seeing your kid suffer for days and having that small hope that they'll get out of there alive, which is finally crushed, is absolutely horrible. Take it from a girl who interviewed dozens of Games-scarred mothers."
I take a breath to continue, but Johanna intervenes. "Ok, Katpiss, we get the picture…." I realize I'm babbling. "Sorry. So, Beetee," I address the man to my right. Luckily, it looks like he's gotten over his initial reservations and gone back to the man who invented the bomb that killed Prim. "I was thinking of a simulated Capitol block, with unseen horrors. Mines. Mutts. All that. And if you don't like that idea, we could simulate an out-district. Peacekeeper mutts. Leftover tracker jackers. And in the final eight, a "Reaping." On live television, we will pull out a certain number of the eight names. Three, for example. The tributes don't have access to this info. Then, we somehow lock the three chosen tributes into a room together. If they're not fighting, make them. Stuff like that." Well. Beetee's not as violent when Gale's not around. I draw up a holo-chart and put in his ideas. Onto the next. Uh-oh.
"Johanna. Do you have an idea?" Luckily, it seems she's sulking. "No." She gives me a dirty look. Ugh. "Peeta?" "I'm thinking the good old fashioned wilderness arena. They've watched many Games like that, but never thought they'd participate in one. They complained when the tributes
died of things like cold, dehydration, and starvation. They talked about how they could have done so much better than that district sh…stuff. Now, make that a reality. Let them starve, freeze, die of thirst." I was expecting someone to say that. I put it in the holo-chart.
"Enobaria." She bares her teeth at me, but clearly this is just for show. She, too, is still traumatized by the Capitol. She takes a deep, rattling, breath, and starts to speak. "I know that this sounds like I'm stealing from Beetee, but I did have this idea. Instead of a Capitol block simulation, we could give them a taste of life in one of the outer districts. I get that it sounds pretty hypocritical, coming from a Career from District Two, but they are always stunned why the inner districts fight so much better than the others. They call them party poopers, show spoilers, cowards, all because they think that their lives are just as good, if not better than, Capitolians. They hate it when someone wins using smarts." She winces sheepishly at Haymitch and Beetee. They shrug.
It's funny, the more I get to know Enobaria, or Ria as we all call now, the more I like her. She never wanted to go to the Games, never even wanted to train. She is empathetic towards non-Career districts, and doesn't ridicule them like other Careers. The only reason she ripped out a boy's throat was because her hands were tied and he was about to kill her. She still wakes up screaming and retching from the taste. The teeth were, in fact, done while she was sedated in recovery. She never wanted them. She tells me that her own mentor threatened to kill her best friend if she didn't put on a good show with the teeth. After a while, Ria just got into the habit. She still uses it as a cover if she's slightly uneasy. I am roused when she clears her voice. "Anyhow, I think that, instead of simulating a Capitol block, we should simulate an outer district. They will basically live in a district for an average of about three to five days each. Depending, of course, on the tributes' fighting abilities." She shrugs, and opens her mouth to continue. "We will have the usual horrors. Peacekeeper mutts." She inclines her head at Beetee. "A shortage of food, so that only the stronger ones will have food, and, even then, just enough. Of course, food will be cheap on the sponsor lists. We do have a show to put on. As well, instead of a force field, we could have an electrified, barbed wire fence that have mutt tunnels running under them, that come up just in front of the fence, so that it looks like wild animals are coming through the fence. We could have other things, too, like a drought that lasts just long enough to not kill anyone, natural disasters, and more." She closes her mouth and sits down. This conclusion is greeted with a round of applause. This gets one of her rare smiles. Obviously, her idea is a hit. I smile as I jot it down in the holo-chart.
"Annie?" Instead of whimpering and hiding her face, like I had suspected she would, Annie starts to speak. Tentatively, of course, but this is definitely a big improvement. "Maybe, instead of putting horrors in, we could just simulate the Capitol? Or an outer district? They can create their own horrors…." She trails off, staring into the distance at something no one else can see. "Great idea, Annie" I say warmly. Peeta starts to clap. Soon enough, the rest of us join in. Whew. One more to go.
"Haymitch." Wow, it's a good day for sulking victors. "Everyone stole all my ideas." He says sullenly. Meh. He's probably just still sore that Paylor has prohibited alcohol. And not just prohibited, either. She has literally put drones in place that smell alcohol being made, whether it's legal or moonshine, and swoop in to spy. If you're making an alcoholic beverage illegally, well, Haymitch doesn't have a death wish. Yet.
Well. That went as well as I could hope for. Time for the vote.
AN: I hope my other chapters get to be this long. I really hate writing short chapters. But seriously, I write chapters that I think are super-long, and they are SO SHORT! Anyways, hope you guys liked this chapter. Want to vote like the victors? An arena poll is up! Vote fast before I'm done writing the next chapter, and you will have a say in the arena! Byeeee…
