Labyrinth Games

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Chapter Two

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Author's Note: I realized I didn't say this in the first chapter so I'll say it now. I do not own the Hunger Games. I do however own nearly all of the characters in this fic. Some of the bad grammar while speaking is intended (that doesn't mean I didn't mess up though ;).)

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That was it. My fate was set. What followed was the calm before the storm, that awkward and sullen silence that followed something of immense and life changing, or in this instance life ending.

When it happened to someone else you were sympathetic, when it happened to you… you were scared. I could feel myself quaking under all of those sad, sad eyes. I wanted to run away. I looked right, I looked left, and then I doubled back. There was no escape in sight, my fate was set.

I began the famed walk to the stage. I was very close, yet it felt like miles. My feet ached as I stepped onto stage, and I turned to face the crowd. Their faces were all adorned depressingly surrealistic smiles. I smiled back and in my mind I knew that the capitol wanted this to be a joyous time, I had to make it look like one. It didn't matter how sad I felt on the inside, all I had to do is smile and everything would be alright.

The mayor once again stands up and rubs a grubby finger on his moustache. He tapped his foot, yet I believe I was the only one who heard it, and began the awfully dreadful declaration that was the treaty of treason. It was so absolutely boring nearly everyone had fallen asleep. Since everyone was basically dead I took advantage of the situation and bent over and rub my eyes, letting a few tears fall out. I could feel June's searing eyes burning into the back of my head. I stood up straight and looked straight at her with my red puffy eyes. She had somewhat of a snickering look and a crooked smile buried under a few tears. Even in a tragic situation that she should, no is, be up by she still mocked me. I snorted a quick puff of air out of my left nostril and mouthed the words 'Stupid bitch.' She showed no change in emotion. She really wasn't the brightest person in the world.

The speech ended in a dreary fashion and then the anthem stared its proud yet pretentiousness beat. At that very moment I realized that this was my last bit freedom. From here on out I would always be accompanied by someone. Those final few seconds of the anthem I cherished in an ecstatic and mirthful fashion, they were probably to be my last on my own.

But with one last triumphant roar, the anthem ended. The crowd nonchalantly began to disperse, acting as if two teenagers were not just convicted, and the peacekeepers arrived to whisk me away for my final contact with my loved ones. I marched to the court house as though I was being transferred between prisons. There was really no escape that I could tell. I knew I just had to love every last drop of life remaining until the games began.

The court house was lavishly adorned with lush carpets and beautiful tile flooring. The room I was led to that had a long leather couch, a Panem flag, a table with a lamp on it, and, oh look, a box of tissues on the table. What a blow to the face that was.

My first guest was one of my friends, Keenan. He was a downright comedian, and probably wanted in first so he could do some sort of grim humor with me while I'm not broken down weeping. He sat down and looked at me with a mixture of helpless pity and almost a slight comedic quirk. He did make a few funny comments about me dying or all the blood I'll have to come across, and I did laugh, though I was forcing myself too. Ahh… morbid humor. On an occasion like this it was the only kind of humor, a much needed kind. But as he was leaving I realized I probably wouldn't laugh any time soon, genuine laughter or not.

As soon as Keenan left I heard him bang his fist on the wall and break down crying. Keenan always seems so happy and witty; I don't think I even realized that he could cry. I looked down at the table with the box of tissues on it. "Damn box of tissues," I whimpered aloud, taking one and wiping my eyes.

My entire family poured in next. My mother was crying with an awful attempt at covering it up, my father had tears in his eyes, Huard was crying his eyes, every so often getting out a gargled question to god about why he'd done this, and the normally chipper Rone looked shaken up.

My mother walked over to me and put her hand on my head. She looked at me and immediately fell apart. "Jasper, promise me you'll do your best to survive!" She was seemed distraught and overwhelmed.

"Mother, it's the Hunger Games. I-"

"Promise me!"

I could feel myself beginning to shake. "Y-yes, I promise." My mother shook her head up and down, showing that she was pleased with my decision. Sobbing, she stepped behind my father.

Huard stepped forward, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his head snuggly into my chest. "Jasper! Jasper, no, you can't leave! Jasper, please stay!"

More tears began to roll down my eyes. "I… I can't little buddy. I have to… go!" My voice cracked on the last word. I was losing it.

Huard kept embracing me and yelling out 'no!' I pushed him off me and grabbed another two tissues, cursing at the box. Rone didn't make a move to talk to me. He was just getting paler and paler, realizing this was reality. He knew that if he broke down, everyone else would. He left, along with my mother and the terribly dismal Huard. I almost wanted to force Rone to talk, because when I'm dead and gone he'll regret not getting his final words in. He'll wish he had spent a few more moments with me, and he'll feel all of this was his fault. Like my father.

As soon as I thought that I looked up and realized he was still in the room. He looked at me somberly; this was probably bringing back thoughts of his brother. He took a seat next to me on the couch and said idly yet sadly, "What a… beautiful room."

"Y-yeah, I guess it is a pretty n-nice room." What an aimless conversation this was. It was made depressing by my staggered voice.

My father sighed; disgusted that we were just avoiding the real reason we were here. "Look Jasper, the Hunger Games are… brutal. I've seen you shake in fear just watching the games. You're a kind hearted soul, but the Hunger Games just chew kind hearted souls up and spit them out. To put it blatantly the escorts are quiet wrong; the odds are definitely not in your favor. Just do your best, okay?"

"Yes father… I'll do my best."

Father looked at me and put his hand on the brim of his hat. "Jasper, I want you to take my hat."

"No father! You've had that old thing forever and you know they won't send it back in my... casket. You can still keep it!

"That don't matter really. It can sort of be a reminder to you from us. No, it's a reminder from everyone in District Eight. It's sure to be accepted, just keep it with you," my father said mournfully. He took off the hat and placed it snuggly on my head. I began to tear up.

With his lip quivering her placed his hand on my lower back. "I love you, son!" he bawled, getting me into a tight hug.

"I love you too, dad!" I was absolutely weeping now. I wrapped my hand around him. In one word that fits oddly yet seamlessly, I was relentless. I never wanted to let go, but I had to. About thirty seconds later a peacekeeper arrived and ushered him out. As soon as he left I had a pang of loneliness. Strangely I no longer felt sadness, just numbness.

A little after my father left a couple of peacekeepers arrived took me away to the train transit.

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The train transit was swamped with government officials of all kind and a camera crew reporting on June and I. The train apparently was late because of an 'accident.' More than likely they were stopped by violent protesters. And if that was true then anyone on the scene, protester or bystander, was probably dead.

The train arrived with a speeding wurr as it came to sudden stop at the transit. The train was fast, very fast. They were also expensive and it was a hassle to get a permit to travel to another district or The Capitol. I never rode on one, but my father had a friend who was a maintenance man for some of the slower and older trains and let me on one. His status probably never granted him access to fix one of these speeding bullets. Everything seemed surreal, and the sadness set in again. I caressed my hat, and somehow that comforted me. Ahh father… I'm going to miss him.

I saw Chike step forward and herd June and I on onto the train. Behind her Eugene and Cortona came from a mass of people and boarded it. The doors snapped shut and the train began to lurch forward. I placed my face on the window, gazing out on the station. The silhouettes of people became faint in the titian glow of the sunset sun as the train gained speed. I turned around to see Chike eyeing me out for my strengths and weaknesses. As soon as she got a better feel of me she said cheerfully, "Well hello Jasper, and may the odds be in your favor!" That is when I knew I was truly on my own.