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Today: Lots of people talking. Exclusively a Capitol chapter. Enjoy^^.
Supernova18: you aren't the only one who asked about Mags' family. At the bottom of this chapter is a recap of who's who. I hope the cheat sheet helps.
Year 65, August. Six days after Finnick's victory.
"You've built so much. The Capitol is every changing, ever growing. The creativity I see here… It's a huge honor to be part of that. Mags taught me responsibility. She drove me to become strong, and to have ambition. Delfina taught me that dreams come at a price and that you can't stop half-way."
Finnick found a way to work them into every speech.
"You, you sent me Victory's Herald, and this victory was as much mine as yours. Enjoy yourselves, you deserved it."
He felt as if he switched outfits with every breath he took. He posed, never stopping, arranging his features to look sad or proud, whatever they commanded. He wondered where the thousands of pictures would go. He had interviews, one, two, twenty, and Mags had been right, the questions were always the same and they were happy with short answers. Those questions barely scratched the surface. Finnick smiled and smiled and smiled in public, trying not to seem mysterious. Just a kid, he wanted them to see just a kid. He'd never been scared of growing up before.
But he was alive!
He smiled and Brutus scowled fiercely. They were back to back, the man and the boy, slick with makeup, until the photographer was satisfied.
If it hadn't been for the drugs, Finnick would have bolted away from Brutus. From the raw strength and the hard jaw. Instead, he stayed as the Capitolites took a short break, and wondered.
"Why did they care, that I was Mags' nephew?" He whispered. "Nero and Lupa seemed to care more than anyone else."
Brutus turned to him. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, as if he knew. Finnick almost snorted. Of course he knew. Nero and Lupa, so easy to say their names. It was like he was two different people. A numb, pretty creature during the day and the boy screaming into his pillow at night. He was only allowed his emotions back at night.
"This stay in the Capitol is part of the Games, Finn," Mags told him. "You'll heal in Four. The drugs will save your life and mine. They'll give you control, control no human being could possibly have, not after the Hunger Games."
"Where I come from, Finnick," Brutus said gruffly. "Victors matter."
Finnick frowned. "You come from Two, or you come from where they trained you?"
"Where they trained me. We stop seeing our parents when we turn thirteen."
"Completely?" That sounded harsh. But FLASH wasn't so different after all.
"Completely," Brutus said. His deep voice held no regrets. "Anyone can leave. Many do. Many stay. Volunteers matter, their names aren't forgotten, but victors, victors matter more. Those who mentor matter most. All of Four's victors are Mags'. It's about respect and recognition, Finnick."
Finnick bowed his head. He wasn't sure he understood. He etched the words in his memory, for when the drugs would fade. Respect and recognition. The words echoed deep. He'd lain awake so long the night before, wondering what they'd think of him now. The recaps… They'd shown him laughing right before he stabbed his trident in kids who'd never asked to be there. But they knew him, his parents, Marina and the guys, they knew him. Shale would understand, he'd learned this, angle. Right now, he didn't care so much, but he knew he would. He'd care so much it'd make him sick.
"Do you just come to the Capitol during the Games, Sir?"
Brutus' lips curled. "Don't call me 'Sir'. Sponsors are like plants, you can't expect them to make fruit if you ignore them all year long."
Finnick felt so exhausted at the prospect of coming back. "Why? No sponsors of yours could have saved Lupa and Nero." He blinked. "Sorry, I'm -"
"Drugged up to your eyes. It's standard procedure. Non-Career victors get that too, lower doses, consent not required," Brutus said with a sneer. "They probably think they're tough." He stared straight at Finnick.
Finnick should be scrambling for his life. The man, the man with the eleven in training and fists almost the size of Finnick's head, the man who'd all but told him he'd fought all year long for Nero, was angry, and close enough that Finnick could smell his sweat.
"You've got pretty eyes," Finnick said instead, just nervous enough to goad Brutus into backing up.
Brutus cuffed him. "You wanted it more than Nero." He dropped his voice to a murmur. "I paid for your trident, we all did."
A soft smile lit Finnick's face. But he hated the drugs now, or at least he wanted to, because he was sure that he should have felt something big. All the mentors, it had to be so unusual.
An hour later, when Donna handed him the drug-laced drink, Finnick threw out half. Donna pursed her lips but she nodded.
"Don't be too proud to ask, later, if you feel like you're slipping," she warned him.
"I promise," Finnick said. He tried to mean it. He just hated not feeling.
Year 65, August. Nine days after Finnick's victory.
"I think I'm in love with you," she chimed.
Their legs were swinging on the railing, it was almost quiet. Donna had grinned, that grin that was both cheeky and wry, and said he'd be wearing women's clothing. Finnick knew better than to try and wrap his mind around it. At least Nevaeh looked about his age, it could have been weirder.
"Nevaeh, I can't be yours," he said softly. "You deserve better."
They all seemed to love him. It was overwhelming. He'd seen girls faint when he'd shaken their hands. He'd had guys hug him and laugh with him. How could he be their hero? What had he done, for them? It was disturbing, but so relaxing, not to be judged negatively.
Today it was a ridiculously pretty boy, who finally ended up being a girl, professing him her love out of the blue and Finnick just rolled with it. It was a game, it was easier to play it like a game.
Nevaeh giggled. "Mags, is she still with that officer?"
A curious one. Finnick straightened slightly. Those were the most dangerous.
"Cereus? Of course they're married, have been since she was twenty-six."
"So cute," Nevaeh said with a pearly grin. "There's never anyone else? For either of them?"
"No," Finnick exclaimed, put out. She wasn't even the first to ask. Did they want Mags and Cereus to have issues? "Why would they want anyone else? It's usually what gets people to break up."
Nevaeh blinked, her long eyelashes fluttering. Her eyes were swirls of warm colors, purples and reds and golds, and Finnick wondered if they were truly the same species.
"Seriously? Here, usually a woman marries her primary but many are involved with more than one person."
Finnick frowned. "Primary?"
"The person she sees her living her life, or at least a good chunk of it, with. Then, some people are big on fidelity, and it works for them, or not, but most know that there are many kinds of love and that jealousy is really the worst of faults."
Finnick nodded as Nevaeh explained polyamorous relationships. It made little sense to him, but he would be the first to admit that he didn't know scrap about relationships. He'd heard stuff at FLASH, and he could imagine people being okay with a spouse having an affair, marriage wasn't just about love after all. It was having a house you could pay for, and being helped out when you got sick. It was knowing your kids would be okay even if something happened to you.
But Nevaeh wasn't talking about sex or flings, but real relationships. Finnick couldn't imagine having a girlfriend yet, let alone many. Finding one person he could trust like that… let alone two… And being okay with sharing them... How'd he even find the time to...
"So… er, does it work?" Finnick said after a while. "All those relationships?"
Nevaeh laughed. "Yes and no. My uncle and his partners and their other partners seem insanely happy. Mom screwed all her relationships up because she's too controlling. Does marriage always work out?"
Finnick gave her a sheepish smile. He hadn't needed FLASH to get tales of explosive breakup, Aunt Gloria had included all the family in her mess of a divorce.
"I like that, you know," Finnick admitted, "when people teach me about the Capitol." He so little time to learn, and he much preferred to hear them talk than have to answer questions. And it was interesting, even when it sounded so disconnected from everything he knew.
Nevaeh remained silent, and so Finnick lowered his gaze to the fountain below. Jets of colored water shot forth to music, trapping his gaze with their mesmerizing dance. He'd be happy to stay like this, until he was allowed to go back home.
"I have a lot of money," Nevaeh finally said with a scared little smile. "Seriously, a lot. I could walk in here naked and pull it off. They'd swear I was clothed to avoid upsetting mother. .. You, you know nothing, Finnick. It's rare to get a chance at a fresh start."
Finnick bowed his head. He didn't understand why they talked to him so easily. If only it was as easy to get people at FLASH to talk. Finnick's stomach churned. Marina, Krill, Sheller, Rhain, even Annie or Instructor Rivers, he'd give a limb to have them here, even an hour, just to be himself.
"Your mother works for Fluid Wear, Nevaeh? They said I'd have to wear dresses."
Nevaeh giggled again.
Apparently in the Capitol, some men liked to dress as women, and a man could decide to become a woman, permanently, or for a time. Finnick couldn't help it, he laughed.
He stopped laughing when he realized Nevaeh didn't bat an eyelid when discussing men who loved men. Cadmus, his stylist, gay, Mags had said, Finnick hadn't reacted then. He'd thought, weird, but who cares, none of my concern.
Stupid, it was his concern now. Everything that involved naked people in the Capitol was his concern now.
The mere thought made him feel ill. Already, Nevaeh's swirling eyes, her black lipstick, the sparkles and feathers in her odd short hair, her long silver and red nails and her tall lithe body he'd mistaken for a boy's, especially in those clothes… She wasn't human, she was a… not an object, because she smiled and spoke, but Finnick just couldn't see her as a woman.
Could he make it clear, that he'd only be with women? He blushed as he thought of Donna, her loud voice, easy grin and the way she filled her red dresses. She'd seemed so odd before, but the more Capitolites he met, the more he found her natural.
He wore dresses for the crowd. Another speech, more pictures. Tomorrow, it would be sunglasses, and underwear. Men's underwear, at least, although now, he felt prepared for anything.
He wanted to go home.
Year 65, August. Eleven days after Finnick's victory.
There were so many people. They'd told him it was just this year's fashion, that most years genders weren't so confusing, but even without that, it was all so complicated.
"Finnick," Donna said, handing him a glass. She had a smile, one that said, I know, it's insane, and while Finnick liked her, it terrified him to think that Donna was his best ally here.
He eyes the glass in disgust. The Capitol should have had to deal with his emotions. Instead they could take and take and take because Finnick could chuck down drugs that could all make it okay.
Finnick's grasp was tight on the cocktail glass. He could feel it coming back, the anger.
"Today you are free," Donna said, her enthusiastic tone belied by the tightness to her smile. "All of society is here just so you can mingle."
Finnick realized it had been all arranged so that he wouldn't be alone and unprepared among Capitolites. Those never ending nauseating fashion shows, advertisement, autograph signing sessions... He hadn't needed to talk –interviews didn't count as talking, they were too rehearsed-, as long as Finnick wasn't made to talk, he'd be fine.
His throat constricted in fear. He didn't want to go.
"Where's Finnick?" He hear a boy say.
"Where's Finnick? Oh-dair he is!" Delfina's voice rang clear and cheerful.
His throat constricting painfully. Finnick downed the cocktail, barely registering the sugary taste. Maybe it showed that he was sane, that without drugs, he just couldn't have. Just three days more. Time had never gone by so slowly.
A few minutes later, Finnick was smiling broadly, his arms around the shoulder of one of his sponsors. The man was his father's age, and he looked like a little kid allowed to visit his first deep-sea vessel on El Cambio.
They all were touching him. And not just to grab his attention. Fingers sliding across his skin, a pat on his hair. He was a walking lucky charm, apparently. He let them touch, it didn't seemed harmful.
Until a woman -definitely a woman with those breasts staring straight at him- grabbed his cheeks. Finnick froze, stunned. Would she try and kiss him? Mags had sworn he was still illegal, but did kisses count?
"Are going to grow a beard?" The woman mused instead. "All men in Four wear beards. I think men with beards are sexy."
"Don't speak trash, Clo. You don't listen to her." The girl (boy?) by her side said. "She wants you be ugly because she can't stand not being the queen of the universe. Has a big head ever since she became a model."
"And you're letting her speak to me like that?" Clo exclaimed outraged. At least she'd let go of Finnick's face, but a strong perfume –lemon or something- still invaded his lungs.
Grow up, Finnick thought. They had him cornered. He straightened. "Is she your sister, Clo?" he asked, pointing to the second girl.
Clo inhaled sharply, she turned to the other girl. "He knows my name!" She squealed, breathing rapidly. "And no, she's my bff."
Bff, whatever that meant, grabbed Finnick's arm. "We'll make the photographer over her take us, and then you can sign it."
Finnick allowed them to drag him off. Boredom was the least of his worries, and self-centered girls like that wouldn't ask him dangerous questions.
Donna found him with another cocktail in hand. She was never too far, joining in his conversations when she spotted potential trouble. Finnick frowned. It was too early. He'd be quite fine for another half hour.
"Drink it," Donna hissed, forcing the drink into his hand.
Finnick started when he realized three huge Homeguards now stood in front of him. He swallowed. They were as large as Brutus, their black and golden uniforms tight over their huge muscles.
"Mr. Odair," one of the men said, "you are to come to the President's office."
Finnick drank so fast he choked.
"My apologies," Finnick said as soon as he could breathe again. He scrambled to match their pace. He shot Donna a desperate glance. She wasn't coming? His fear slowly melted away as the anti-depressants tightened their hold over him.
He was lead into a taxi, and back towards the victor's tower, at the edge of the city. He learned then that the building next to it was where the President worked.
He saw no government officials, no avoxes, only guards at every corner, and swiveling cameras on every wall. Finnick smiled out of instinct before remembering the wasn't the arena.
The Homeguards stopped before thick wooden doors. One of the men went in.
"Finnick Odair, Mr. President."
"Sent him in."
Finnick straightened and entered the office. It was huge, with a view that made him dizzy. Tall vases overflowing with roses stood in every corner. Finnick swallowed, realizing he had frozen. He focused on the man seated behind the large desk.
So this was Coriolanus Snow… There was real gold in his black suit and Finnick's eyes paused on the large studded rings on his stubby fingers, but the rest… If not for the coldness in his black eyes, the chilling aura of power and superiority, the bearded old man before him could have been born in Four.
"Sit," Snow said, his hands clasped before him. "I bear grave news."
Instead of panic, Finnick only felt a pang of fear. But while his emotions were stunted, his mind was fine. Had something happened to Mags?
He sat.
"Your Grandmother, Esperanza, passed away a week ago. The funeral was held the day after Mags returned."
Finnick froze. He… He felt numb, so numb that he exaggerated his sad face, because Snow couldn't know, just how drugged he was. He dreaded later, when it would sink in.
"But she looked so healthy…" He kept his eyes on the ground. "At least she saw me win," he whispered.
"You are a special victor, Finnick."
Nana was dead?
There was another scent in the air now, and it wasn't roses. Finnick's stomach churned.
"Few your age have not only the skill but the desire to win."
Mags and his father had to be so sad.
"Finnick, where did you find such a deep desire?"
"I've answered those questions, Mr. President. I've answered them many times," Finnick whispered. What did that man want from him?
They'd killed his Nana. They didn't know about Mags, they couldn't know or she'd be the dead one. But they'd killed his Nana nonetheless. Why?
"I'd like to hear it from you."
Finnick finally met Snow's eyes. They were cold, so very cold. Snow had told him about Esperanza to distract him. To make him speak.
"I thought I could help. I wanted to be the next Mags and build something great. I thought it was the right thing to do, what heroes do. But I learned the lesson, Mr. President. The Capitol doesn't need any help from a district kid. I'll do as I'm told."
Snow frowned. "Why do you say that?"
"Because you just made it very clear that is what you want, Mr. President," Finnick said, unable to hold the other's gaze.
"I did?"
Was the man playing with him? Would everything be a new game? Why would Snow have said anything if he hadn't meant for Finnick to get the message?
"I want to make people happy. This week, I've been making people happy. I was too arrogant to hope for more. I'm just a district kid," Finnick whispered. "Already, I'm among you, and that's a great honor. I'll do as I'm told and take no initiatives now, I've learned the lesson." Finnick took a deep breath. "Thank you, for not killing my parents instead. But I don't know what Mags or I did wrong."
It was probably his fault. Nana had died because something Mags had done for him.
Snow straightened, his eyes narrowing. "Why are you so certain that I ordered her death?"
"Because you know she's dead, Mr. President. You even knew the funeral date. No peacekeeper sends an urgent report during the Games season because an old woman died." Finnick said wearily. He was just so numb. "You know best, the Capitol always does. The Districts would try to lead themselves and there would just be blood and chaos and then starvation, more chaos and death."
"Your aunt taught you that, Finnick?" Snow said, suspicion creasing his face.
Finnick nodded. "Yes, who else would have? The Capitol is essential and we should contribute to the wealth and strength of Panem. The Cataclysm tore us apart, the Capitol put us back together and if we don't work hard, we'll get nowhere. Rebels only know how to destroy, they hide their wrong sense of entitlement behind big words and then, they try to destroy."
Finnick felt no fear. He doubted that was a good thing, maybe with fear he'd have been smarter. But he'd done as she'd said.
Show you understand that you are considered inferior –he'd expect nothing less from my nephew- and that you agree. Be submissive, Finn, admire the Capitol for its art. I'm the victor who silenced the rebels of Four. We don't believe in rebels in this family. They bring chaos and false principles. Remember that well.
The silence stretched out until Snow stood up, a dangerous glint to his features. "You wouldn't lie to me, Finnick Odair, would you?"
Finnick's jaw clenched. "Sir, I'm no liar. Here in the Capitol, people create, people leave things and an identity to the next generations, and that's what makes a civilization, not how many different dresses the person who picks the apples owns."
"And you don't want to be among the people who create, Finnick?"
"Of course I do, Mr. President," Finnick said helplessly. "That's why I won. But not everyone in the Capitol creates. If my role is to inspire those who create, then it's already a lot."
"I'll be eager to see, how deep your devotion goes," Snow said with a thin smile. His eyes remained cold and calculating. "You may leave."
Finnick bowed his head and left.
A manipulator and a liar. That's what he'd become. But he was doing it for a reason.
Snow had killed his Nana. But why?
Year 65, August. Thirteen days after Finnick's victory.
"A Career, another Career. Disguised behind an angel face this time."
Finnick jumped at the sibilant voice. Those were his quarters! He was supposed to be safe here. He whirred towards his accuser, his heart hammering painfully.
It was woman, and short, she barely reached his chest. Her pale face was riddled with brown freckles, and a stony mask of disgust. Her hair was collected into two simple braids that were tightly attached at the back of her head.
She was a victor, she had to be, but she hadn't been in the room. The room that had made Finnick decide he would kill Colt despite his large family, that he would win no matter how deserving the others seemed.
She didn't smell of morphling or alcohol. She looked youthful still, and shapelier than Finnick was used to, and faced him squarely. The light in her eyes was a relief to Finnick. His nightmares held more living-dead victors than reminders of the arena these nights. The past hurt, it wouldn't leave, it faded just to assault him when he let his guard down, the guilt and horror and grief, but Finnick understood it somehow, but the future…. The future terrified him beyond reason.
"Should I have not fought?" Finnick said, his lips trembling. "Should Mags have let me die?"
He didn't want this. A victor... The woman saw him for who he was, she didn't see a hero. Finnick was terrified of what she had to say. Where was Donna? He needed Donna!
"Yes, Mags," the woman said tightly. "Making it just bearable enough. The Capitol wants it bearable, it wants us to be just at the limit, you see? If we're too weak, we're not entertaining. If we're too strong, we might get ideas. Whether they realize it or not, Mags is their greatest tool. "
Finnick saw red. Liar. How dare she- . Finnick realized he'd raised his fist. He jumped back, chilling horror washing over his fury.
I was over. It was over! He wouldn't hit anyone and not a woman. Especially not a woman.
A face floated just behind his eyes. Clementine, she'd been called. The girl in the tree, with skin so dark and hate so bright in her eyes. It had been Marten, not him, Marten! who had killed her, but her face wouldn't leave. It stuck to him, a reminder of all the tributes he'd tried so hard not to get to know. He'd made peace with Paige and Shani, it made him furious, but he had a promise, at least he could do something. Clementine, she'd been beautiful, and he'd never know.
"Do you know what's in store for you?" The woman said.
Was that pity in her eyes? Finnick tried to focus on his fear. She was a victor too, it didn't matter that she was tiny. She'd probably had blood up to her arms.
"Do you?"
"Life," Finnick snapped. He'd never been so close. That scared him. The rules kept changing. He couldn't hit her! He'd promised Mags, he wouldn't go insane.
"What life?"
Rub it in, you bitch. You know nothing! He took a shuddering breath, his fury crystallizing into something he could control. "Mags can't mentor me on everything, and I'm still innocent and untrained, are you volunteering to help train me?" He bared his teeth, but he couldn't even muster the pretense of a genuine smile. "To make the Capitol love me, or love me loving them?"
She paled.
"Keep insulting me, I have no feelings. People like me deserve to die, right? But I'm young, maybe you'll get through if you hit hard enough. Hurry up though," Finnick snarled. How dare she say Mags was their tool! "I may be less vulnerable when the arena will be less vivid in my mind. Why don't you bring up Delfina," he choked. His face clouded up. "Oh wait, she's not human either is she? Fucking Careers, preventing nice and innocent district children from living long and happy lives as victors."
Years at FLASH among children who were neither children nor adults, children that had been broken and had to be fixed, children that didn't trust, children that had so much anger begging to be released, or who struggled to find a sliver of self-worth. Years among manipulators.
Finnick was hardly a stranger to it. "Were you scared of the reapings?" He said, his voice shaking with anger.
He couldn't know what she was thinking anymore. Backed against the wall, just staring at him, but at least that disgust and arrogance were gone.
"I never was," Finnick said, reveling in her wince. "And it's the fault of those horrible Careers."
"Careers aren't for every district," her voice was soft, but her brown eyes shone with anger of their own.
"So you're jealous? So it's not because it's wrong, it's because we're doing what the Capitol doesn't want you to do? While you're here, remind me how Four became a Career district? Four was one of districts who rebelled the most violently during the Dark Days."
And who would rebel again. That thought suddenly anchored Finnick's pain and anger. It had been worth it. Everything was worth it. He thought of his conversation with Snow and winced. Why couldn't he have been a cheerful idiot instead? He'd been pathetic and beaten.
Nana. He'd avenge her. Tears shimmered in his eyes. Esperanza… he could barely believe it.
Finnick stared at the victor before him. She just looked stiff and confused now. She wasn't the enemy. Finnick had no clue who she was. He'd never watched the talent shows. At home, except at the hours it was illegal, the TV remained off. Finnick couldn't deny he'd grown up spoiled, but on this his parents had never budged.
"Mags put order, and if you look at the avox and execution stats, they decreased sharply. She built houses, a hundred of them in Creneis and then more in the other towns because work was so scarce and so much had been destroyed. She got us meteorology again. She built-"
"Finnick, did you know Asclepiad is one of the mentors who fights the hardest to keep her tributes alive? She won the 58th Games, and District Five has never had so many sponsors."
District Five. Running away from the Cornucopia, the upturned table in the dining room, the blood… Finnick swallowed, his eyes burning. He couldn't remember their names and their faces were just a blur. Instead he could see angry dark eyes in a fruit tree. Clementine. The tributes that never came home. The tributes that were forgotten.
"I'm sorry, Asclepiad." What could he say?
"Live with it, we all do," There was a strong edge to her tone, and Finnick realized she was staring warily at the woman who had spoken.
Finnick started. A Capitolite? But, the accent wasn't… He needed his drugs, he was too angry, he couldn't -
"Glynn Valens," she said with a small smile. "Finnick, some people want to see you."
Finnick inhaled sharply. Glynn. That sounded like a name from home. Glynn.
"When the time comes, trust Glynn and Plutarch, but don't tell a soul that I told you that."
"Yes, Ma'am," Finnick finally said, a glimmer of hope bubbling inside him.
Finally, he could do something. He shivered from anticipation.
They walked, and Finnick's nervousness increased when Glynn said nothing. People spoke all the time around here. He wished Donna was with them. Everything was strange and alien.
"How old do you think I am?" Glynn said as they stepped outside.
Finnick blinked, but he'd been asked weirder things by Capitolites.
Her hair was oddly textured, mixed black green, a dark green that was almost too subdued for the Capitol. But the eyes were hazel, a warm hazel that looked very human. Her only jewelry were long flowing earrings. She wore a blue suit, no belt, no glitter, no nothing. Her shoes -
"Finnick, analysis of my shoes won't tell you anything. I work, I'm not a socialite," Glynn said with an eyeroll. "Just throw a number."
Finnick's eyes snapped back to her face. There were lines, but not so many. "Uh, forty-five?" Fifty-five probably, since Capitolites looked young.
"I'm seventy-four."
No way, Mags was seventy-four and she looked bloody great, but not that great.
"Life expectancy among those who don't abuse drugs here is a hundred, Finnick. You'd be surprised how old people are." She smiled. "I was born Glynn Corduroy in Creneis. I went to school with Mags. Jett's my brother."
Jett Corduroy, the former mayor? That was insane. But an insane he liked for once.
He grinned.
"The cameras can't hear us talk until we're back indoors," Glynn added.
Finnick's grin broadened. It felt odd, to mean it. "Where are we going?"
"To a party. What else is there in life?" Glynn said with a sardonic smile. "Do you remember the conversation you had with Snow, word for word?"
Finnick tried his best to answer her. She looked sad, and angry, when he told her about Esperanza but not surprised. Finnick felt a jolt of elation. She had known. Somehow she had known even when Snow had told no one else. There were rebels, real rebels in the Capitol, and they were stronger than Snow.
Finnick smiled. He'd pay. That man would regret everything he had ever done.
"Mags wants Snow to overlook you. Snow loves crushing those who oppose him, but he also respects people who have pride. You -"
"I was a bloody worm, " Finnick spat.
"That's good. He'll dismiss you. You want to be ignored, if you fail, you want to be his friend, if you fail at both, you want to be essential. And when Capitolites or oblivious victors say Mags is the greatest collaborator of them all, smile proudly, Finnick, because that ignorance is what is keeping her, us, all our work, alive. Asclepiad isn't a bad woman."
Finnick flushed. "I'll be kinder. I just got so mad."
"Understandably so," Glynn replied with a smile. "Questions?"
Finnick skipped a step. He chuckled, suddenly finding her hilarious. Questions? In trying to understand lay madness.
He just had two. "Mags isn't ignored. She's not Snow's friend. How can she be essential?"
Glynn grinned. She looked impossibly smug. "Snow made a mistake. Or maybe we are making a mistake. But he decides all alone, and we decide together, and I daresay that when we agree, there's a guarantee the ideas are pretty brilliant. Esperanza will be the martyr and he will be so scared to make Mags the next one that she will live to ripe old age."
"But are we rebelling?"
"If it works, yes, but it is too early to tell if Panem is ready to take up arms. I don't think it is."
"The people we'll meet, are they like us?"
"Born in Creneis Town?"
Finnick realized the woman was teasing him. He scowled and loved that he was getting away with it. It was like a tiny bit of home.
"Yes, they're on our side," Glynn answered. "But don't treat them like it. They each just have a piece of the puzzle." She took out a pill and handed it to him. "I'm sorry, Finn, there's no way around it."
Finn popped it in his mouth, aggressively chewing it. Next year, he vowed that he'd not need a whiff of drug.
"Plutarch, how many more Career victories in a row do you think you can pull off?"
Glynn could almost hear the anger in the outer Districts. It was an abject illusion, that anyone could win the Games, but once the hope died out, if year after year banquets were held in the Career Districts… One more source of anger, one step closer to pushing them all over the edge.
"The arenas are fair. Seneca hasn't realized the full implications of that. He has a genius for details, rousing speeches and making us work, not the global picture." Plutarch filled his glass with wine. "Until the Capitol starts complaining, the arenas will not put Careers at a disadvantage. And it won't happen as long as the victors keep being so different. You can't compare Gloss and Cashmere to Enobaria or Finnick. If next year District Two gives us a solid patriot with stars in his eyes… I'll speak to Lyme," he said.
Plutarch filled Glynn's glass and gave it to her. "So, what do you think of Finnick?" He said. "He deflected Majeski's questions like a pro."
Glynn smiled. "He's a born manipulator and actor, and FLASH is a goldmine for honing such skills. He is honest by conviction, not by nature. He wants to do the right thing and he believes in Mags with all his heart and mind. He's a boy still, but he's growing up fast." Hopefully fast enough. Glynn wondered if she could influence who would buy Finnick, if only so that he could be solid enough the day the inevitable abuse happened. She paused, willing the sudden rage away. There were unfortunately much more pressing matters. "Who decides the price for sponsor gifts?"
"Not me, if I can help it," Plutarch said with a wry smile. "There's always two in charge, to avoid getting executed if Snow decided he didn't like it, and it changes from year to year. It's the job no one wants."
Glynn chuckled. "I'd love you to remain just the guy who sends out gifts." And Plutarch was good. Seneca Crane had commended him for sending that darling Delfina the anesthetic-pumped medicine. He was too bloodthirsty to realize it had been to make sure Finnick wouldn't have to kill her. "But you need to get closer to Snow. If he decides to kill Mags, it'll be too late and we'll lose not only her, but maybe all the rebellion."
Glynn's chest constricted with panic just at the thought. They couldn't lose Mags.
"He listens to experts. Your husband doesn't want power, it's plain as day, and Snow has always treated him cordially. I will counsel Snow out of pure patriotism." Plutarch chuckled. "I'll offer my advice when things start to go bad, he'll ignore me, again and again, until he realizes he has no choice," he said, his thin smile betraying his tension.
Glynn mirrored his expression. "If it's too easy, what's the fun? The world wouldn't need us." She folded her hands on her lap. "You'll need a good excuse to approach Snow the first time around. If we control Snow, we control the whole Capitol. It's the single advantage of his stubborn refusal to have a proper government." Glynn tapped her fingers on the armrest. "I think it's also time for the computer servers to crash. Snow's choke hold on the banks has made people blind to the drop of production in the Districts, it's time the economy started reflecting again the true wealth of Panem."
"It's those who have been saving money that will be affected, Glynn. When the banks declare the capital has gone up in smoke…"
"It'll be the poor of the Capitol and those wise enough to have money stored away that will be hit the hardest," Glynn acknowledged. "But those people usually work, they have salaries. Many socialites survive on both taxes and interests. When the interest rates collapse and the taxes bring in less, they'll be crippled. No one will starve or go naked, Plutarch, it's the Capitol." Glynn sighed at Plutarch's disapproving expression. "No, it's not fair, and trust me, the war will be even less fair."
But Capitolites being angry at Snow would help them, a lot.
Plutarch grunted. He had that disgruntled expression that was so cute, when he agreed with her, but his heart didn't want to agree. "Caesar Flickerman will remain on the top of a gold mountain when the teachers, drivers and small shop owners will be struggling to make ends meet," he grumbled.
Ah, Caesar. "If we can convert that man to our cause…"
Plutarch barked a laugh. "Quit dreaming, Glynn."
"What would happen if the peacekeepers' pay was cut?" Glynn mused.
"Lots of peacekeepers would get angry. Don't a fair number support their parents with their wages?"
Glynn eyed Plutarch fondly. He made such a good conscience. "Imagine they learn that Snow killed Esperanza and has forced Mags into retirement. Imagine all does go to hell in Four." Glynn knew she could count on Mags on that. "Imagine that some peacekeepers originating from Four, probably those who did their training in Galene, cause trouble. Imagine Snow decides to cut the pay of all the peacekeepers from Four."
Plutarch shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "Even angry, what do you think they'll do? We can't have war."
"Defect," Glynn replied. "Massively. Peacekeepers of One and Two will have to make up for the void. They won't be able to, unless there's forced recruitment. We have still a strong network in District One. Trouble is easy to make. Panem won't explode, but it'll shake, hard. Enough to put the idea of rebellion in people's minds. "
"The barracks gives them shelter, food and clothes. Where do you put two thousand people?"
"Family, Plutarch, friends and colleagues. District Four is a civilized place," Glynn said. They'd been bouncing off ideas for days now, it was exhilarating to see a picture form. "They'll serve again, docile and following orders if Snow gives in."
Plutarch laughed. "It's not a rebellion. It's a strike. Few civilians involved, hopefully Mags can contain the backlash against the rebels that will have revealed themselves in Four. It's not an uprising to destroy the Capitol, it's for the good of Panem. Evadne Achlys' Panem, the one who worked, at least in their minds."
Glynn's throat constricted at his words. It had been perfect, their rebellion, so perfect and President Zephyr would have slowly made Panem into what it should have been from the start. They'd succeeded, and with so few casualties. Glynn winced as she thought of Marquise. Snow had made them into such fools. And a deep, selfish part of Glynn missed Evadne, the sheer brilliance of the woman and the intimate knowledge that Glynn had been one of the President's very few friends.
Glynn finished her glass and firmly set it down. Such thoughts lead nowhere. She forced a smile.
It would work. It wouldn't work exactly as planned, nothing ever did, but it would work, and hopefully without crippling casualties. That bastard should never have killed Esperanza. If Coriolanus Snow was a wolf, then they were the rats. But they were many, and Snow governed over sheep. There were some brilliant people in medicine of course, and fashion and entertainment –the latter which covered propaganda- but already in security, Snow demanded absolute loyalty and obedience, which had made the surveillance teams so easy to infiltrate. And politics, politics was almost a desert. No Capitolite dared venture there.
"We can't keep having the guys make the surveillance department's computers crash whenever we want camera records of the mentor's tower erased," Plutarch said. "With Snow's increased interest in it, someone will see patterns."
"Then put them offline. Beetee gave us enough viruses that we can spare one."
"Glynn, we're supposed to be discreet not try to start a war," Plutarch said stiffly. "Just make Snow realize that harming Mags, reducing her control over Four and preventing her from mentoring is something he can't afford. For mentoring... there will be a sponsor uproar when she doesn't turn up next year, I can make sure of that. Finnick made it easy for us, one doesn't make sense without the other."
Glynn smiled. Plutarch was exceptional with people. He'd plant ideas in their minds and then everyone would forget they had come from him in the first place.
"It's just a matter of spreading the right rumors," Plutarch said with a shrug. "But we're not causing a global shutdown!" He added heatedly. "That's branding her as the lead focus of a rebellious group!"
Glynn wondered if Plutarch had ever acknowledged how deep of a crush he had on Mags. He was quite right of course, they couldn't afford to be careless, but he should know Glynn would not suggest an idea that would paint a target on Mags' back.
"Snow will threaten all peacekeepers if Four's massively defect," Glynn explained. "He'll be too scared of a ripple effect. Besides, a number of Homeguards would know how to make a virus. We don't need rebels for this. This won't be about rebels. We just need guards that know they're the base of the President's power, and that he's treating them poorly."
"He's treating them pretty well," Plutarch pointed out with a grimace.
"For now." Glynn's face darkened. "We trapped Evadne because we moved too fast for her to stop and think. We'll trap Snow, make him paranoid, and he'll try to tighten the reins on everyone and everything he has control over, and he'll make mistakes. Like believing some Homeguards are behind a virus," Glynn said tightly, "and executing them…"
Pawns on a chess plate. Innocent or guilty, these people had become pawns. Those Homeguards would live their lives ignorant of blade now hovering over their heads. They'd never know of the gamemaker and the doctor's wife, discussing their deaths in such impersonal terms. A chess plate so huge, Glynn didn't dare count the pieces.
Glynn wondered if she would live to say it. Checkmate.
Please review.^^.
Personally, I do not believe that in such a situation, rebel leaders can be all white. Katniss kept her morality (even that is debatable, but mostly yes) because she was ignorant and objectively a pawn. The moral thing is building FLASH, training people within the system, but as soon as they stop waiting for Snow to screw up just on his own (and people are starving to death or being executed in the meantime), they get their hands dirty, very much so.
But Glynn, Plutarch, Mags and the rest could have other options that I could have overlooked. So if you do find some, I'd be thrilled to discuss them.
Now here is the cheat sheet on Mags' family that I promised:
Mags and Cereus Sphene have three children: Larimar and Sol (who is three years younger) and Lorelei, whom they adopted when she was 10, and who is three years older than Larimar.
Lorelei is a peacekeeper and unmarried.
Esperanza and Adrian Odair have three children: Gloria, Jasper (named after Mags' dad) and Angelo (you may see a resemblance to Angelites). In that order. Gloria is two years younger than Sol (remember that chapter where Marquise had bought her nail-polish?^^). Jasper and Angelo are respectively two and three years younger than her.
Angelo Odair and Tyna Stormborn are Finnick's parents. They're both whalers.
Larimar works at FLASH, he is married a woman called Pearl. They're both aware of Mags' ambitions and some of her plans. They have two young kids.
Sol was the first of Mags' kids and nephews to have a child of his own (with a woman called Lunita). That kid's name is Ceferino, he's 18 and wants to know what Mags is up to.
Some less crucial info
Gloria got married (her second marriage) with a guy called Lamprey Bones (who's actually the grandson of Andromeda and Rio Bones who were among the first instructors at FLASH. He's about 10 years older than Gloria). Lamprey will maybe be seen a couple of times since he's part of Creneis' rebel leaders. Gloria isn't part of any rebel decisions.
Gloria has a daughter, Tallulah (Annie got pushed off stairs by one of Finnick's groupies because Finnick was seen talking to her. It was about the necklace he wanted to give Tallulah for her birthday). Gloria also has step-kids.
Sol and Lunita have another 3 kids.
Jasper (Esperanza's 2nd child and eldest son) is married (his first wife died) and has young kids of his own with his second wife.