Disclaimer: The Hunger Games and its characters are all property of Suzanne Collins. No profit is being made from this piece of work. No copyright infringement is intended.

PART 2

THE REBEL

9

My mood darkens as we ride the train back to the Capitol. I find myself wishing I'd had an extra few months off. Then I begin wishing I was never part of this Hell in the first place. Gale told me he'd checked on Nurse Everdeen and said she was doing well. I feel guilty that I didn't bother to do it myself. Once we reach the Capitol, Plutarch has me rushed towards the Television Building where I am introduced to the Military Team who are preparing to train the Tributes from the Tribes.

There's just a mere week that separates us from the Reaping. The Reaping. There's a phrase I never thought I would have to use.

I go through a line of people; all well-built with hard expressions. It's clear they've been trained to act neutral and calm all the time. I almost envy them until I remember what task lies ahead of them. They all wear the dark green that is District 2's color because everybody knows the military comes from District 2 whether its soldiers were born there or they moved there. Their faces don't stick to memory nor do their names except one.

She stands the third in line; the female trainer for Tribe 2. Her light brown hair is scraped back into a harsh bun but the familiarity of her grey eyes is hard to miss.

"Madison Hawthorne, Sir," she introduces herself whilst shaking my hand. A small smile slips from her lips. She's young, I can tell not just with the slight slip of her guard but by her face. General Gale Hawthorne's daughter.

I think of her all the way through the rest of the line.

Once the introductions are out of the way, we are led to a large room where we are expected to mingle with each other. I weave through the crowds to find Gale. He seems to be looking for me.

"My daughter," he says proudly. "Madison Hawthorne. Can you believe it?" He sounds slightly drunk and he is, if the almost empty glass he holds is anything to go by. "Only nineteen and already she's doing so well."

His last comment strikes a nerve. I can see how proud he is but I can't help but respond the way I do. "So well?" I repeat, my blood boiling. "So well? You think her training kids to fight to the death is her doing well?"

Gale blanches for a moment. He looks shocked but I can see it fading quickly and anger setting in. I can't help it though. I continue before he has the chance to stop me.

"I can't believe you'd be so proud of your daughter for taking part in this!" I cry. The guards descend on me then, grabbing my arms and hauling me out of the room. I let them take me this time.

I've only been in the Capitol a day and already I want the guards to take me away from it all.

I'm kept in what feels like a cell until the little party is over. I try not to think of anything but it turns out that that's impossible. I think of my mother and how ashamed she'd be if she knew what I was being part of. I think of how proud Gale is of his daughter despite him knowing what she is willingly being part of. Either I've misunderstood something or Gale Hawthorne is seriously sick.

The door to my cell creaks open. I realize I can't really call it a cell. Not when I sit in a comfortable armchair with carpet beneath my feet and a private toilet stall to my right.

Gale steps in and shuts the door behind him. He doesn't lock it but I immediately know I'm in trouble. He could kill me with his bare hands if he wanted. At that moment, I wouldn't even mind. But I know he won't. The Games are too close to find another representative. Maybe they won't need one at all now they've won the public over to their sick ideas.

Gale takes a seat in the identical armchair next to mine. I've spent the last few hours wondering why there were two of them here.

"Listen, Fin," he begins. His voice is calm which both surprises and upsets me. I grip the arms of my chair so tightly my knuckles turn white. He watches me as if calculating. "I know it's been a hard year for you," he continues. "But you need to understand that this is it."

"What's it?" I ask. I have no idea what he's referring to.

"This life," Gale answers. "The Games. This is it. It's all real and it's not going to go away just because you spit your dummy out of the pram every now and again."

I don't trust myself to speak. He gives me an approving nod.

"I'm not as dumb as you think I am." The change in conversation surprises me and I loosen my grip on the chair. "I know these Games will kill people but I grew up in a time when the Capitol were a lot stricter than this. Even after the Revolutionary War I knew things wouldn't stay the way they were. The Capitol will always go back to its bloodthirsty roots."

"That's why you joined the military," I realize, piecing everything together.

"Exactly," Gale nods approvingly. "I knew I needed to be ready for when they returned to their old ways."

"Then why didn't you try to run for power?" I ask. "If you were made President then you could control it all. It could be like you wanted – with no Hunger Games."

Gale pauses for a moment. I accept he isn't going to say what he is thinking but, surprisingly, he does. "I would never have gotten into power," he tells me. "And even if I had done, this probably would have happened anyway."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"President Paylor doesn't want this either but the country needs it," Gale explains. "In a different universe, the situation would have forced me to do the same as what she did. And besides, the Capitol changes you."

"You're talking crap," I bark at him, getting up and walking around the room. I feel restless. I can't stay still.

"I don't think I am," Gale disagrees, shaking his head. "You haven't seen enough of this world yet, Fin."

"Oh don't go all granddaddy on me!" I yell.

The cell door opens again to reveal two more guards. They scan the scene, guns pointing at me. I feel the fight leave me instantly and I collapse back into the armchair, exhausted.

"Is this the part where I have to apologize now?" I grumble before realizing I sound like a little kid.

To my surprise Gale laughs. "Not if you don't mean it," he tells me, standing up and stretching. "Come on, let's get you home. Use this week to relax at your place. You've got a lot of hard times coming up."

The Reaping comes too soon.

Alcohol had been banned from my apartment and I had a guard outside my door twenty-four hours a day. Gale had told me to relax yet they might as well have left me in the cell for all the relaxation I got that week.

I couldn't face the TV so I spent my time watching the city outside the windows. It was interesting to watch the people walk or drive by and try to imagine who they were.

I have to watch the Reaping with Plutarch and the other 'Gamemakers' in their control room at the television centre. As I watch the Tribe's people being filmed by camera crews which had flown out days previously, I can't help but wonder what they thought of it all now. Do they really think this is such a good idea? By the sounds of the roaring cheers in Tribes 8 and 9, the answer is yes. Tribes 3 and 10 are hesitant but, then again, they know our words – they know what they're being forced into.

"This is great," I hear one Gamemaker cheer as we watch a seventeen-year-old girl with black hair from Tribe 9 smile for the camera. "We get the entertainment of the Games without having to kill any real people off."

I don't have the energy to argue because in a way he's right. Or at least that's what I tell myself. These people are not from Panem. They are not like us; they are different. Although I don't agree with watching people fight to death as entertainment, I understand what the Gamemaker is saying. His accent is District 5. He grew up with the Games and yet he is still accepting – pleased, even – about these ones.

Maybe I'm the one overreacting. Maybe these Games are a good thing. It solves the immigration problem we are having; it gives people entertainment; and, as Gale was telling me a week ago, the Capitol will never change. They will always be bloodthirsty because of the Games. This way we can satisfy their thirst without giving up the real people of Panem.

Yes. It's a good thing.

In the evening, I have an interview with Flickerman. He smiles in greeting but I know we are both remembering the last time we saw each other. It seems like a lifetime ago that he was confronting me about my relationship with Britney. Now I can't believe him saying that felt like the end of the world. Having people know about my private life was nothing compared to what I'm doing now. And I'd rather not think about Britney at the moment.

"So, Fin," Flickerman begins casually. "How are you today?"

I put on my best smile like Plutarch has instructed me to and say, "Very excited. I can't believe the Games have begun already. It's amazing how fast time flies."

Flickerman continues to ask chatty questions to get the interview flowing. Plutarch has instructed him to do this because it helps to relax me and to step away from myself. I am no longer Fin Odair. I am a complete stranger who is looking forward to watching people not much younger than myself fight to the death. I have no family to be ashamed of me, and no friends who will persuade me otherwise. Plutarch was right; being an actor does help in this situation.

And finally, Flickerman gets to the question we've all been waiting for.

"So, what do you think of the Tributes, Fin?" he asks. "9F and 5M are already down as the favorites to win."

"Are they really?" I ask with fake surprise. 9F and 5M are the female from Tribe 9 and the male from Tribe 5. Since most of the Tribes do not speak the same words as us, they have been given codes. Even those from Tribes 3 and 10.

"I think 10M looks promising." I haven't been told to say this but I recognized 10M as the nineteen-year-old guy from Tribe 10 who taught me to 'surf'. He had introduced himself as Aiden. I try to forget his name now; it makes it easier on me to think of him as nothing but a code. Still, I hope my small comment gets him some sponsors.

Flickerman announces I will next be joining them in a week's time once the Games officially begin. I know I am required to comment every night on how the Tributes are doing but the thought still makes me queasy. I know this is morally wrong. Why can't anybody else see it?

On my way to my dressing room I bump into Madison.

"Oh, sorry!" she says. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

It's the first time I've seen her since my outburst at her father the previous week. I find myself, for the first time, feeling ashamed over that. I apologize to her.

"Oh, don't worry," she says, waving her hand to dismiss the matter. "You've got a lot going on right now and we don't expect you to be polite all the time."

"How about you?" I ask. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," she answers immediately, her soldier guard up in place. "I'm just preparing to train Tribute 2F. She arrives tomorrow and I need to think of the best strategies to teach her."

"All Tribe's people from 2 can climb trees," I blurt out randomly, remembering the high orange trees which supplied most of their food.

"Oh," Madison is a little surprised at my random bit of information but she composes herself and says, "Well, thanks for the information, sir, I'll let you go now." She hurries past me, suddenly keen to get away.

I don't want her to go.

"Hey!" I call after her, desperate to stall. She stops and turns, waiting patiently for me to continue. "Just…call me Fin…please," I say. She gives me a small smile but nods professionally and walks away. I watch her go, feeling slightly odd.

Madison is the first person who I feel is on equal footing with me. She has been forced to do this just like I have. She didn't look down on me like Nurse Everdeen and Katniss and her family did. She wasn't all about controlling me like Gale and Plutarch were.

I decide I like her.

Plutarch is waiting for me outside my dressing room. He claps slowly as I walk towards him.

"Marvelous show," he says. "You're going to be brilliant when the Games officially start."

"This isn't all about helping the country is it?" I suddenly ask him. "You love organizing television."

"Indeed I do," he replies, unfazed by me. "Your PA is waiting for you."

"PA?" I question. I haven't had a specific PA since I was in acting.

"Yes," Plutarch nods. "She'll be attending to your every need over the next few weeks."

I can't help but notice a slight innuendo in Plutarch's words. I realize why that was after he's walked away and I've entered my dressing room.

It's a nice dressing room, similar to the one I had back when I was on his show. Even the PA is the same.

Britney stands in the centre, hands folded neatly over her stomach, her hair is longer now; blonde ringlets down to her waist. She gives me a small smile.

"Hello, Fin," she says, halfway between confident and hesitant. "It's nice to see you again."

I don't even know what I'm doing. My head is so confused one whether the Games are right or wrong; whether the Tribe's people are real people or not; whether Plutarch assigned her on purpose to get a reaction from me.

I only realize what I'm doing when a guard bursts through the door and pulls me off her. My fists match the blood on her mouth and the stream from her nose. I wonder, as they cart me away, if they will ever get the stains out of the beige carpet.