A/N: THANK YOU mojojojo152, Sabriii (Ich hab festgestellt das, genau genommen, nicht alle am Leben sind. Ich hab Brawns gekillt...), LiveandBreatheWords, FlamingArrows (My favorite book overall is Mockingjay, but since you said besides THG...um...OK, now you got me thinking. I guess 'The Client' by John Grisham. And 'Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban'. I know, I know, Harry Potter, so cliché. But it's true:)), maryclumsy, PeetaLoverXD (Yes. One is already, although you don't know it yet...Either way, it'll take a bit time for some of them to (re)appear, I guess:)), kms96 (Your question will be answered in the next chapter:D), sick-of-dreams (Her mother was shot by the other man, the one that was killed:)), Estrellita (Hach, Ich liebe es auf Deutsch zu antworten. Irgendwie is Englisch zu meiner Internet-Sprache geworden...egal. Du hättest übrigends auch auf Englisch reviewen können {auch wenn ich das komisch fände, es wär doof sich auf Englisch zu unterhalten wenn wir beide Deutsche sind}, ich lach ganz sich niemanden aus:) Oh Gott, jetzt hab ich dich glaub ich verwirrt...also falls du wieder reviewst, die Sprache is mir egal:D Falls nich, hoffe ich das dir die Story auch weiterhin gefällt:)), Aloha-Pinkly, Mocking Verse (Yeah, I pity him, too:)), SWPeetaxKatnissAvatarTLA (I would kill him if it wasn't for this deal {don't get me wrong, I love Peeta to death}...but I thought a little injury is OK:)), Emmy (Haha, that's OK:) You're right, after all, and I always need to say everything that's on my mind, too:)), HG.7, Kari (When I want him to:)), Mockingjay272 (I guess I'm throwing even more stuff at you with this chapter...oh well:) At least I promise you'll get to know more about Cann in Chapter 14:)), JaneDoeLovesYou (Thank you a lot:D You have no idea how happy your review made me xD I will check out your story, but first I need to get my one-shot done...it's a post-war story and...I avoid every other post-war thing, because I don't want similarities:)), DandelionOnFire (You know, I might've done something worse to him to see if I can let him die in later chapters if it wasn't for our deal...I'm guessing all my readers will be thankful for it at some point...:D And I'm keeping my fingers crossed those requests won't come too fast...but you're probably right:/), DancingDP (What comforts me is that there's no way they can make Mockingjay a fluffy Romance. I mean, Peeta hates Katnisshalf of the book, and is in the Capitol the other half. And seriously, who would buy a love-struck Katniss? And more than those two kisses with Gale...), journey4eva, Dafaril (Dunno. It's not really important, you know? I'll decide when I have to...:)), Maxi OT (Ich hab mich wahnsinning gefreut, wieder von dir zu hören:DD Ich hab übrigends kein Problem mit deinem Deutsch-Englisch thingy, denn, wie du siehst, mach ich das auch gerne:)) Um deine Frage zu beantworten, noch nicht. Ich hab's schon seit 'ner Weile vor, find aber nie die Zeit dafür. Abgesehen davon glaub ich nicht, dass ich den Nerv dazu hab das alles zu übersetzen...naja, das macht ja auch and 11-Dino (Danke für beide Reviews von dir und du hast Recht, ich find's auch irgendwie komisch hier auf Deutsch zu reviewen...ich mach das ja auch manchmal:))
Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own the Hunger Games.
Chapter 13:
It went pretty fast, actually. Immediately after the door of the hovercraft opened, a man dressed in gray clothes, armed with a handgun, approached us and asked Brains something I didn't catch; he answered with a nod and then told the other man about our injured.
The gray man hissed something to his cuff, which had seemed strange to me back then, until I was told it was a so-called communicuff later. Although I had assumed something like this as it had taken the men and women that came out with two stretchers barely a few minutes to appear.
Although everything in me screamed to do something against it, not to easily trust those people, I didn't do anything as they carried Peeta and Sylvia away. I haven't seen them since, but the woman sitting across from me now has assured me they're both being treated in District Thirteen's hospital.
Which finally convinced me of the fact that obviously, Cann and Sylvia did say the truth. District Thirteen does still exist.
Now I'm sitting in someone's office, together with Prim, who they wanted to interrogate separately until I told them she was my sister. With us being related, the woman told us, it was something else. And this exact woman is asking us questions; our names, ages, birthdays, home District, if we're married, and, the point where Prim starts crying, if we have any family members left at home. I guess those questions are to make sure we really are the ones we pass ourselves off as.
"We lost our mother out in the wild. Our father died in a mining accident seven years ago. We don't have any siblings except each other."
Her face shows pity for only a few seconds, before it turns back to its former, serious, concentrated and slightly indifferent state. "I'm sorry to hear that."
She then looks at her papers again. "OK, I'm going to read everything down, and you tell me if there's a mistake. I'm going to begin with the older one."
She looks straight at me. "Katniss Everdeen, eighteen years old, born on May 8th in District Twelve, unwed, only family member Primrose Everdeen, sister. Is that correct?"
When I nod she tells Prim, who is pressed against my side now, and whom I'm holding with both arms, what she's written down about her, and I answer for my sister.
The woman snaps out of her focused state. "Would you like to get assigned to a room first, before I ask more questions? So she can rest? I believe one of you is enough to answer my remaining questions."
I agree to it, but ask the woman if it's possible for us to stay in the same room as Prim while she continues her interrogation. She gives me what I assume to be a understanding smile and affirms.
After what seems to be an hour, but is only fifteen minutes in reality, we're in room 358. "You're going to have to sign a few papers later," She informs me, "but for now I'll just let you stay here. She's exhausted and looks as though she could need some sleep."
When I've tucked Prim into bed and she's sound asleep, after only a few minutes. I sit there, stroking her hair, while the woman keeps asking things about my knowledge about weapons, what I used to do back in Twelve.
I hesitate a little before telling her about my hunting. I only do because really, who are they to punish me? They're supposed to be dead. She only nods and scribbles something on her notepad.
She then asks me about the people I arrived with, or better, about Peeta and Sylvia. I can't really tell her much about Sylvia, so I stick to Peeta, telling her his name, that he's from the same District as we are, and all the stuff she wants to know. She's eyeing me carefully. I have no idea as to the reason for that, but I don't let my wonderment show in my voice. And only her last question explains the slight frown on her face.
"You're not engaged to him, are you?" For some stupid reason, I feel my cheeks heat up at her words. I'm glad Prim isn't awake to see it, because if she was I would get interrogated by her later.
"No. Why?"
She raises an eyebrow at me. "Because that would change your relationship status from 'unwed' to 'engaged' and with that I'd have to assign him to this room, too. But you're probably a bit too young. Are you fertile?"
This time I can really only stare at her. Is that any of her business? "What?"
The woman rolls her eyes and explains, "Fertile. Able to conceive a child. Able to get pregnant. However you want to call it." As if I was slow on the uptake.
I only scowl at her. This question is probably part of her 'I need to write it down on my paper, it's information the District needs to have'-program, too, but it bothers me. Why, I'm not sure. Maybe because it's a private question, maybe because I'm sure my cheeks are still a darker shade of pink than they should be, maybe because I never bothered thinking about it, since I never planned on having children, never planned on bringing them into this cruel world, where it could be reaped to compete in the Hunger Games.
She sighs. "Please, Soldier Everdeen, it's important. I have orders to ask it, as more than half of the District is infertile. So, fertile or infertile?"
I glare at her. "Fertile." At least I'm pretty positive that's the case; after all, nothing suggested anything else in the last years.
Only then do I realize what she called me. "Soldier?"
She looks up from her notepad, at me again. "You're older than fourteen. With that, you are to be addressed as 'Soldier' in District Thirteen. You'll get used to it."
And then she goes on explaining the most important laws of District Thirteen, such like "You're not supposed to take food from the dining hall" and "You have to follow your daily schedule. Only exception is when there's an emergency." She leaves me a list that reads every single one of them, as well as a layout of Thirteen, even if it only shows the parts of it I need to know about. The woman claims it's easier that way, but, even without knowing anyone but her, I'm pretty sure the real reason is that they don't want me to know more about their precious District than necessary.
When she's out of the room the first thing I do is slump down onto the bed Prim isn't lying on. I'm exhausted and slightly unnerved. The woman talked to me as if I had no clue what was going on. Maybe she really did think so; she must have been in her forties, brown eyes and brown hair with strands of grey. She told me she was in charge of all information about every citizens of District Thirteen in the beginning of our conversation.
I don't know if it's because of her job that she's so indifferent and always focused, or if it's caused by living underground for her whole life. Maybe her indifference was better. I don't want her pity, or anyone's for that matter. And she wasn't exactly cold. After all, she did allow me to let Prim go to sleep and even smiled once or twice. Now, I'm not one to be deceived by a smile, and it didn't reach her eyes, but at least she made that effort.
Doesn't mean I like her. She seemed to share something with everyone we passed while walking here. I wasn't able to make out what exactly it is, but it reminded me of the miners at home. Except from their looks, they have the atmosphere surrounding them in common. Every time my father came home from the mines, a dull glint would be evident in his eyes. Although it did vanish once he saw us, his family, it would be there every evening.
I didn't like it. My father was supposed to be carefree, the man I knew. And around me, he was. At the time, I didn't give it much thought. I was too young to really acknowledge it. Only when I saw the men come home from the mines after his death, they would remind me of him. Gale would, too, when he started working there.
I don't know if it's the same look I saw in the faces of District Thirteen's people, but even if it wasn't, I don't like it.
When the door suddenly swings open, I jump. I wasn't prepared for that. The schedule the woman printed on my arm doesn't say anything is happening now. The first thing is 18.30 - Dinner and a glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to my bed tells me it's nowhere near that time.
"Soldier Everdeen?" It's a man this time, I guess pretty much of the same age as the woman.
"What do you want?" I can hear the venom in my voice and feel my muscles tense. I'm about to reach behind me, for my bow and my arrows, but remember there isn't a bow. They took it from me right after we arrived here; apparently weapons are only allowed if you own a firearms certificate, which, of course, I don't. I wasn't supposed to have it in Twelve, with certificate and without, and I never left it inside the District. Only out in the woods, which were also forbidden territory for me.
But I have a feeling things in Thirteen don't roll like they did back home. Not at all. Still, without my bow I feel vulnerable, uncomfortable.
The man standing in the door scrutinizes me from head to toe. Finally, he says, "I am Soldier Homes. I am required to take you the command. We want to know about the current circumstances in District Twelve, since unfortunately, we haven't been able to contact our allies there for about a month."
I'm too stunned to reply for a second. Twelve. Allies with Thirteen. People who actually know about the underground District. People who practically betrayed us by not telling us. Like Thirteen itself did. They let us suffer when they could have helped us.
"Well, I'm afraid I have to disappoint you." My voice is cold; I don't want to have anything to do with this man. He's one of them. "It's been almost a month since I left Twelve. I won't be able to tell you much. Other than that, I'm not going to leave my sister. She'll be worried if she wakes up to see I'm gone."
Plus I'm completely clueless. I didn't know Thirteen even existed until Cann and Sylvia came along, and even then I didn't believe it.
He seems to ponder my words for a moment. Then, he shakes his head. "I'm afraid I must insist. You can leave a note for you sister. As for your knowledge, everything is of value for us. We know about the run of events in every other District, but in Twelve must have been some serious change, as our informant hasn't contacted us for so long."
I glare at "Soldier" Homes. 'Leave a note?' So she wakes up, completely abandoned in a foreign place, where Primrose Everdeen, the softest person I know, will be called a 'Soldier' should she actually try and find me. She'll be scared. And I don't like people scaring her.
"I can't."
He gives me a hard glare. "Soldier Everdeen, don't disobey. You aren't important enough to do so. If you aren't willing to go on your own, I'll have to force you. I don't want that, and I suppose neither do you."
Still scowling, I let him write a short information for Prim, and follow him out. As we enter the elevator; the first of me life, we didn't need them in Twelve, but I've seen them on television, and the doors shut, he begins talking again. "I'm sorry. I had to say that. I have my orders, and I…my family depends on me. I saw how protective you are of your sister. I'm sure you understand."
I nod, but truth is, I don't. Not really. I mean, sure, he has to do what whoever has a higher rank than he does orders him to, but does threatening me really count to it? And what would happen to his family if he didn't? Would they punish them? Or would he just be degraded? Is this about reputation? I don't ask; he probably won't answer me anyway.
The door opens at a floor that looks like the one our room is in, except there are name tags at the doors, which suggests they are offices.
Homes leads me to the one at the end of the corridor, but I don't have enough time to read who's working here. Not that it would matter. The name wouldn't tell me anything either way.
To my surprise, the room is empty. It looks exactly like the one Prim's sleeping it, only the furniture is different. Instead of beds and nightstands, there is a table with some strange, square, gray object on it. There are also cabinets that could pass as wardrobes, but are probably meant for important papers.
Homes takes his seat behind the table and gestures for me to take the chair in front of it.
He looks up and when he sees my quizzical expression, he starts explaining,
"I'm going to be the one talking to you. But we needed to come here so I can save the information on this computer." So that's what the gray thing is. "I need to update the situation in District Twelve, it has to be as correct as possible."
'Correct'. I've heard that word far too often for my liking today. Is everyone is Thirteen like that? Somehow, I find this hard to imagine.
"Well, has anything happened since the last time the old guy contacted us? An execution maybe? Or some big change?"
I shudder at the idea of someone being executed. Maybe even someone I know. The thing is, I can very well imagine Thread, the very reason I'm even here, be cruel enough to add criminals to those who starve to death. People like me.
Thread. That's what's changed. "There is a new head peacekeeper. He's…different. Not like the one we had before. He's strict, he's cruel. I don't know about executions, but if your informant gets caught, there's a huge chance you'll need a new one."
More people that die because of the Capitol. No only the Hunger Games and the hunger in general. More violence.
Homes looks surprised. "I doubt that. They can't kill him off easily. That's the good thing about him. The only one, if you ask me. So, what about your old head peacekeeper?"
I wince slightly when I say the next words, since they remind me of the image of the black market where I've traded for so many years, burning down to ashes, adding more gray to the District. As if it needed more. "Died in a fire."
Only then do I remember his words about the informant. "What's so bad about the guy who usually updates you about the condition in Twelve?" Did he work at the Hob, too? Did he die in the same flames? Do I know him?
For the first time, Homes actually laughs. "I was starting to think he just didn't feel like telling us. Or passed out. Or died, because his liver couldn't take all the liquor anymore."
Liquor. The Capitol can't kill him off. Passed out. Only one person in the entire District fits to that description. "Haymitch Abernathy, the victor?" Even I can hear the disbelief in my voice. This guy hasn't managed to get any tributes home, hasn't managed to stay awake and sober for a whole day, yet he had contact to a District that is supposedly dead by the hands of the Capitol? How intricate is this affair?
"I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to tell." But the grin on his face clearly signalizes my guess is right. "Is there more you can tell me?"
I search my mind, but in the end just shake my head. "Only that new peacekeepers were about to come when I went away. I told you I don't know much."
He looks at his computer. "It's enough. At least the lack of updates makes sense now."
For some reason, his words remind me of their lack of help for the other Districts. I now regret not asking this question before telling him those things.
"Why do you even care?" My voice, which was civil before, has now regained this venomous undertone. "You didn't before. Why else are there still the Games?"
Homes sighs. "We can't control the Capitol. And…we do care about the other Districts, but what are we supposed to do? The Capitol's patience with us is wearing thin as it is, they know what we're trying to do. Only our nuclear weapons are preventing them from destroying us for real."
I stare at him. "Nuclear?" I always thought Thirteen had been for graphite. But I don't say it, because that's what the Capitol says. After all, they also said this District ceased to exist and now I'm sitting an underground office of said place.
Homes nods. "That's the only reason we're still alive." But he must have seen the confusion on my face when I asked, so he adds, "We did have some graphite mines, but only a small part. Our main function was manufacturing nuclear weapons."
He then clears his throat. "You're dismissed now, Soldier Everdeen." He smiles. "I hope to see you around."
I form a smile, too, and nod at him. With that I leave the office.
When I step into the elevator, trying to remember the level my room is on, I notice a familiar presence. "Cann!", I greet, sighing relieved when I hit the supposed-to-be-right button.
He looks up, obviously surprised to see me. "Katniss. I didn't think I'd see you so soon."
I eye him carefully. Can I trust him now? Is there still a reason for me to mistrust him? "Do you have some time right now?"
He seems annoyed, although I'm pretty sure it isn't directed at me, since he stares at the wall. "Yes, I do. Since my rank apparently isn't high enough to attend to the current meeting. Why?"
His comment about the rank thing makes me hesitate slightly. But I push it away. Even if he isn't allowed to be with them at the moment, I'm certain he knows more than I do. "Because I need some answers."
Yeah, I know. This chapter is definitely a filler. Kinda an introduction. But I needed it, for later:) Don't be mad at me, the next one is going to be better:) And you won't have to wait long for it:D