Chapter Thirty-Eight - Inevitable
I sit here in the green room of the Training Centre Complex, dining on a wonderful continental breakfast, surrounded by Hunger Games 'junkies' - aptly-named superfans of the event in question - lucky enough (or connected enough) to get backstage access to what Caesar and his team are calling the 'halftime show'.
At first it was endearing, having a throng of raving plebeians sing your praises and grovel for photo and autographs, but there's only oh so much a woman can take. My girl hasn't even taken the crown yet (emphasis on 'yet'), yet everyone is acting as if she has.
Still, I for one, can't blame them. Despite there being twenty-two tributes left - our girl included - she is the only one getting a tribute spotlight. No other escort, not even Pluto's Emery Smithson, is getting one.
Everyone with sense knows what's going to happen. So I too am just waiting for the pool to dwindle further until the last tribute falls at Zenobia's heel so we can genuinely celebrate our triumph over the rebels. One more boot to the gut while they're down. Still, despite the mass confidence everyone has in our 'Judge, Jury and Executioner', someone has to be the worrywart.
Somewhere, amongst the glee I'm filled with, is a niggling feeling of doubt.
And if I keep surrounding myself with plebs high on hype, well…what's stopping the universe from another ax and forcefield or lucky-arrow-to-the-hand incident from happening?
So, it would be best to observe with a level head. Temper my expectations just a little bit. Despite the safety rails Toni and his Gamemakers have set up, despite her defying the odds again and again despite it all.
To prevent me from being totally swamped with adoration, Mars and Juniper, their low growls and immaculate-yet-deadly fangs, serve as an ample barrier against the starry-eyed 'junkies'. Even still, they watch me, snapping photos while giggling amongst themselves with glee.
I can't help but wonder how 'bad' it will get once Zenobia takes the crown. Will I be able to ever 'blend in' again?
I watch them rave as if it's Launch Day all over again as the lauded stylists - Fletcher, Wyatt and Amir enter the room. After a good ten minutes of hobnobbing, Fletcher has to literally tug the other two in order to get them over to my settee.
"My gosh," Fletcher breathes, flapping a hand toward his face for added effect. "We're so sorry Viondra, darling. Wherever we go, there's always a camera, a notebook and a pen."
"And a boatload of people wanting us to use them!" Wyatt gushes.
"You should've seen the drive in," adds Amir.
"Still, I can't say we're hating all the love!" Fletcher continues, earning giddy nods of approval from Wyatt and Amir. "If I had a dollar for every time I had someone flagging me down for an autograph or a comment…well, why bother being a stylist! We'd be right up there in Elysium Fields with you, being fed grapes, cucumber masks and all!"
"I could say all the same things to you," I reply dryly, grinning. "But instead of the twenty-four acres I currently reside on, I'd make it fifty."
My eyes flicker over to the attendant who zips over at the sight of us together. It doesn't take long for us to be on our feet and on our way towards the stage. Caesar's bit plays concurrently on the mini holos on the wall, he's recapping yesterday's events. The screen comes and goes as we walk by, but I can tell which part they're at from the loud bang and the exclamations that follow.
From backstage, I can see Caesar both live on screen and barely on stage, crooning and awh-ing along with the audience as Zenobia and Emery snuggle up and gossip.
"I think I can speak for all of us when I say that this relationship between Zenobia and little Emery is like a diamond in the rough. It'll be a real shame when…" eyes shut, Caesar keeps his mouth shut in a firm line and shakes his head while more awes pour out from the audience. "I shan't speak it! Even though all good things must come to an end."
More lamenting pours out from the audience, the boys included.
"Reminds me of Rue and…her," Fletcher says with a sigh.
"They're a million times better than them," adds Amir. "A zillion times, even!"
I watch the holovision as they showcase the girl, Emery, giving Zenobia a playful slug to the shoulder as the older girl reacts to something she says. The cameras barely pick it up -something to do with crushes - but I'm too tired to care.
'Good for TV' or not, everyone is over the moon for an alliance doomed to fail.
If anything, I wish that lunatic from District 1 had her way with her so that Zenobia can return to the business of killing everyone off until she remains standing.
…Like we planned.
"Speaking of the end, out of ninety-six tributes - plus one more spicy edition," Caesar chuckles throatily, "Twenty-two remain! Two whole Games in themselves came and went if you think about it! Can you believe it?! "And to think that we're due for five more iterations of this format and rightfully so given recent events!"
The crowd cheers thunderously in agreement. It takes a wave from the Master of Ceremonies to calm them down.
"A little birdie tells me there have been musings from the Gaul Laboratories. These Games are coming to a head - as if they haven't come to a head multiple times already!" the crowd bursts into laughter. "But I'm serious! I have it on good authority that things will kick up. But I think you folks as much as I are very curious about our…should I say, 'special edition' to these Games…"
As montages show Zenobia's exploits on screen, the crowd begins to murmur loudly in agreement.
"They've been ducking us for far enough. After days of promising us the skinny on Ms. Rivendell, I'm cashing in! Please welcome District 2's escort, First Lieutenant Viondra DeWynter, accompanied by 2's stylists, Fletcher, Wyatt and Amir!"
The cheers reach their peak. Without asking, Wyatt and Amir link arms with me as we strut on stage with Fletcher leading the way. We trade the customary greeting with Caesar as Fletcher takes the chair, while Wyatt, Amir and I take the sofa.
"Well Viondra and co, we finally got you!" Caesar teases, throwing one leg over the other while sitting. "No more coquettish grins, no more teasing comments!"
"Well, Caesar," I begin, "Let me just say that we are glad to speak on Zenobia's behalf. To offer some insight. It's been a pleasure getting to know this brave girl over the past weeks..."
"Which is why we've been so desperate to get an inside scoop!" gushes Caesar. "As most of you know, Zenobia herself has been a victim of the rebels' barbarism. Her parents being community home orphans and dying in service to Panem, alongside her older brother, I'm afraid that Zenobia is the only trace left of her lineage. Which is also why I think it's extremely important that…should the worst occur, we garner as much information as we can about this extraordinary young woman. So, Viondra, given that her story is so tragic, how do you think she finds it within herself to persevere?"
"That's something I've wracked my brain with as soon as she marched down that aisle, Caesar. I've been doing my homework, and it's clear that her family are strong motivators," I say. "That and her love of the Capitol and country. Without those two things, she wouldn't have been able to conquer the mountains she has these past couple of weeks."
That, and ample molding from we here in the Crown Jewel...but mostly those two things.
Caesar motions to the boys, prompting Fletcher to straighten up. "Zenobia is such an inspiration!" he beams, earning eager nods from Amir and Wyatt. "Unlike…recent years, I feel that Zenobia's motives are far more genuine in a way that really speaks to people, especially now. We're so glad that we met her. So glad."
"Yes, like you said Viondra, she has a mission and she's seeing it through! Twenty kills, can you believe that folks?" the crowd replies with thunderous applause to which I can't help but grin. With no genuine mentor to credit, all dues go to me. "She makes Brutus Gunn seem like an amateur."
"She will go down in history," I add with a solemn nod, craning my face towards the cameras. "Let it be known that Zenobia was just a sixteen, seventeen-year-old girl before all this. It just goes to show you that there's a deep-seated anger that citizens both Capitol and district share. She was just brave enough to go a bit further in voicing her contempt."
The audience roars with approval, Caesar and the boys clap politely. I take it all in stride, nodding, grinning. I imagine twenty-odd years from now, when they're documenting my rise, this is the bite that they'll use.
"You're absolutely right, Viondra. Zenobia serves as the instrument of justice that us Capitol-fearing citizens yearn so hard for. Speaking of 'seventeen', I just received word that my associate, Marceline Devereaux, has established contact with Zenobia's high school." "Marceline, can you tell us what's going on down there?"
The screens cut to the co-host herself, her beaming smile in contrast to the company of stone-faced cadets standing at attention behind her.
"Well Caesar, Zenobia Rivendell may not have 'blood family' but she does have brothers and sisters in arms here at Barron Overwhill Academy of Military Arts!" The screens give us an eagle-eyed view at the sprawling campus, its various dorms, gyms and skill ranges.
"One of Panem's premier military academies, established in part by District Two's first victor, Overwhill Academy is tasked in developing future enlisted men and officers of the Capitol's Armed Forces. It was the stomping ground of Zenobia's namesake, the victor of the same name, as well as her parents, so it only makes sense that we came here to figure out who Zenobia really is."
The cameras return to Marceline, who's sat down in the Academy terrace. She's joined by five other cadets. Upon further glancing, I can't help but notice the medals on their chest. One or two pieces each…One or two pieces too many, as if they were full-fledged Peacekeepers when that portion of their career is two years shy. Just another example of loyal citizens, young or old, fighting to preserve our nation.
"Please allow me to introduce my guests; Callista, Randall, Beatrix, Garrison and Domita!" Each of them offer a nod to the cameras. If anyone knows anything about our rising star, it's these exemplary cadets."
"Hello, Marceline," Callista says in a crisp Capitol accent. "May I start off by saying on behalf of everyone here at Overwhill Academy that it is a pleasure to serve the Capitol."
This immediately prompts some murmurs among the audience, but I immediately recognize the last name that appears at the bottom of the screen: Ryder.
"A Capitolite…you don't see that often," Marceline purrs, eyes wide and beaming. "Why aren't you attending say…Ravinstill Academy? That's the Capitol equivalent to Overwhill, no?"
"My father is Headpeacekeeper of the Army," touts Callista, grinning smugly. "You'll find that there are Capitolites both in the student body and faculty here at Overwhill."
"Very well," replies Marcline with an impressed nod. "As a born Capitolite, I imagine that you have an ear for excellence. Did Zenobia exhibit excellence during her time here?"
"Oh yes Marceline. Rivendell is a jack of all trades from everything to last month's history test to well…the skills that we've all seen her exhibit on screen. I always find myself on my toes with her."
Marceline lets out snort, prompting the five friends to frown.
Callista cocks a fine brow. "What's the matter?"
"That's uh…That's a pretty succinct descriptor of Zenobia," Marcelien replies. "'On one's toes'...given her unprecedented brutality-"
"I'm sorry Marceline," Callista retorts, folding one skirted leg over the other. "Are you saying that the rebels trapped in that arena with our friend don't deserve what Zenobia's been giving them?"
I can't help but agree. Why bring up controversy when there's no need?! Who cares about 'brutality' when dams were blown up, trains derailed, Peacekeepers ambushed…
My brother being blown out the sky for the entire nation to see…My mother demanding that all holovisions within the house be shut off in her presence, lest the Rebels hijack the feeds and play that propaganda piece over and over and over again.
I give my head a firm shake. 'Children' were included in the atrocities. Many of them currently in that arena. They deserve only the most severe of deaths.
For people like my family, Zenobia is our voice.
"Of course not! But there have been comments made that the kills made by Zenobia trump anything we've seen. Not to mention what that does to the psyche. We've seen Titus, among others…"
"You're right to be concerned," pipes up another girl, Beatrix. With her soft voice, she continues. "We're all concerned. We didn't even know Zenobia was going to do what she did on Reaping Day."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. We've all been affected by this war," Beatrix continues, gesturing towards the student body behind her. "The ranks behind us should be much more full than how they are now. Our faculty told us to stay our course and maybe we could get justice by serving Panem as full-fledged Peacekeepers. Zenobia wanted more than that."
Marceline smiles. "Which led you to run a bake sale of all things…"
"Like I said Ms. Devereaux, when the war was at its worst and Two was in the crosshairs…We got our taste of the 'Dark Days'. When I heard the news about Zenobia, I supported her. When she forced her way into the Games, I was shocked out of my mind," she lets out a hesitant chuckle as everyone here in the studio chuckles along, "But I supported her. As she fights through that arena now, no matter how grizzly the methods, I support her. When she gets out of that arena - and she will - we will support her."
The crowds both here and at the Academy burst into applause. Even Marceline can't help but clap. "I wish I had a friend group like this growing up," she says. When the applause dies down, she jerks her chin toward Randall. "Randall, why so quiet?"
The young man straightens up, swallowing. "Well, Ms. Devereaux, there's not much to say that hasn't been said," he replies, breathing out a collected sigh. "I'm proud to call Zenobia my friend and sister-in-arms."
A giggle from Marceline. "Something tells me that you'll be calling her something else in the near future! Are you the one who gave her that ring she's been coveting?"
The screens now cut to the scene in question, the little girl and her brother inquiring about Zenobia's promise ring. Naturally, the crowd eats it up, bellowing a chorus of 'awws' as Randall's stoic facade cracks a little bit, his cheek flushing a light pink.
I cross one leg over the other, a slight grin on my lips. Zenobia seems to have a good taste in boys. I can see it now; instead of the 'star-crossed lovers' muttshit she and him could be the true couple of the ages. All while yours truly is there to lend a helping hand…
Why can't the finale just come already?
"I disagree with the whole 'not having a family' thing," Randall replies. "Barring the Academy, she has a family with the Pilsners."
More awwing, more applauding as Marceline grins from ear to ear. "I'm glad you're taking advantage of the recent law changes," she says, as the cameras shift over to the quietest of the quintet. Garrison and Domita. "Garrison Forge, the resident poindexter. Have nothing to say?"
The gangly boy adjusts his horn-rimmed glasses. "I told her to play things slow…little did we know…"
"I don't think 'playing it slow' was ever an option, Garrison," Marceline replies with a laugh. "Domita! People told me you were quite the chatterbox! As Zenobia's oldest friend, you'd think you'd have quite a lot to say about her, no?"
Even though I'm watching her on a screen miles away, I can tell from here that the girl was sick. Her dark skin is a lighter, pasty shade, the way her eyes slowly flutter open and shut. I'm not surprised when she darts out of view of the cameras, startling her friends and those around her. The camera is quick to cut back to Marceline however, who quickly turns her frown upside down.
"Tensions are high here in Two, Caesar," she says. "All anyone wants here is for their friend - their 'sister-in-arms', to come back home."
"To be frank, I think that's all any loyal citizen wants…" Caesar purrs to ample applause. His look of amusement breaks out into a full blown expression of glee as he places a hand against his ear, possibly where an earphone resides. "What's this…? Apparently Zenobia and Emery are making some moves?!" his eyes flicker toward me and I already know all the connections he's making in that whimsical brain of his. Zenobia making a move while Viondra's in the room? Ratings ratings ratings! "Let's watch!"
So we do watch. Despite Toni's assurances, I can't help but be anxious about the fact that something could go wrong. Again, despite the assurances…despite the guide rails…
On screen, the omnipresent toxic vapor continues to strangle the movements of Zenobia and the other tributes. Every tribute is in a bad way, barring our horse - my horse - of course. I've noticed the Gamemakers have been spawning in mutts each time one is killed, ensuring that the ammo supply doled out for the guns tributes use to easily dispatch them is run dry by the time the finale occurs. Instead of simply gunning down every mutated dog, rat or gargoyle, tributes are having to dispatch them the old-fashioned way. That, coupled with the bits of food they have to ration makes it all the more easier for my girl to dispatch them and get on to the more victor aspect of things.
It's Zenobia who spots the District 3, District 5 alliance scurrying between buildings in an attempt to keep ahead of the ever-shrinking arena boundaries. It's only a matter of time now before the last few tributes are shoulder to shoulder, should the Gamemakers decide to do something drastic.
And good thing too…The fact that the two brainiest districts were allowed to get together for this long boggles my mind.
Altogether, both districts have six tributes united…that's right deadly. Two Three males, One Five female and three Five males. So many brains, with the contraptions they have at their disposal, Zenobia could get killed in a thousand ways.
Thankfully, my girl, my crafty, crafty girl, has taken to rounding the boundary like a clock, instead of rushing towards the 'safe zone' like the rest of the idiots. She keeps a good distance apart from them, a few dozen meters, only to cover the distance with a breakneck pace.
"Come on, come on," she yearns now, not even turning around. "Hurry, before we lose them!"
Much to everyone's surprise, out of all the disgraced Capitolites to be reaped into this year's roster, Emery Smithson still hangs on, despite her brother, who was a foot taller than all the other tributes, being the 'spare'. I immediately take note that she can keep up physically, but mentally…the fear is on her face for Panem to see. Maybe now she'll slip up.
The arena's boundaries become stable once again. The Three-Five alliance scampers into what looks like an old warehouse. Zenobia knows not to go for the kill immediately however, watching as one of the fives, the girl places down a landmine smack dab in the middle of the entryway.
Zenobia snorts. "...Poindexters."
Emery frowns. "W-What's wrong?"
"Just Threes being Threes…" Zenobia drawls in reply. The duo halt for ten minutes before Zenobia leads them into an adjacent building. Slowly, methodically, the two girls navigate two floors before slipping through a Gamemaker-made hole that gives them access into the warehouse. It's nothing but a wonder that the camera system they installed continues to work despite the earthquake they summoned. We're given a perfect angle - the Three-Fives centered in the middle of the empty warehouse floor, none the wiser, all while Zenobia perches on the balcony observation box above. Considering themselves safe, the Three-Fives drag a table to the center of the room. A boy from Three heaves a hulking, metal contraption onto it. Something akin to a leaf blower.
"I'm still confused on how this will benefit me," says the Five female.
"As long as you remain loyal to this alliance, which I don't see why you wouldn't, it will benefit you," retorts one of the Three boys. "When the boundaries get too tight for comfort - and they will - this'll be our trump card. As far as I know, there are no flame retardants in this arena."
The Five female shakes her head. "I don't see why we can't continue on with our original plan. It's simpler, little thought-"
"Your plan makes it so that everyone gets the short stick," retorts the other Three male. "It may not even be us who's left standing."
She bristles. "Your plan makes it so that your finger is on the trigger…literally."
He shrugs. "Would you rather have District Two take the cake?" This earns him an uneasy silence in reply. "Look on the bright side, at least you know who to take down when everyone else is a burning marshmallow," he says, gesturing around the warehouse proper. "If the Gamemakers are laying out provisions, what better place than a warehouse? We should spread out and look for more stuff."
"A-And be quick," pipes up one of the Five boys, hesitantly. "This isn't the most secure of places…"
Meanwhile, up in the box, Zenobia already has her rifle unslung. Where she has that steely look of 'doing the business', Emery on the other hand looks petrified. Constantly fingering her pistol while breathing deep, labored breaths.
"Where are you going?" she mewls, watching as Zenobia as she takes off.
Frowning, Zenobia stops mid-stride, only to spin around and take a knee before her petrified ally. "Gettin' closer. If there's any commotion whatsoever, you shoot the first person you see, got it?"
With a deep swallow Emery nods. It's anything but confident, which is odd, considering she mustered the courage to shoot one tribute dead, shotgunned another and assisted in the death of one more.
I give my head a shake. Whatever. As long as she's out of the way and not giving Zenobia one more thing to worry about. I take the time to take my eyes from off the screen and look at how everyone else is taking it all in. As expected, they're all hooked on Zenobia's every move. Even Caesar, noted for his bombastic commentary, remains slack-jawed, watching our girl now as she slowly but surely ventures down to the ground floor, all while the Three-Fives disperse throughout the warehouse floor. She hunches behind corners, zips from one pile of boxes to another until…
She finds her first victim. One of the Five males, the sheepish one, rifling through a low-tier loot crate. Pilfering the best things for himself naturally. He barely glances up before Zenobia's right hook - enhanced by her gauntlet - collides into his face. Blood gushing from the jagged wound in his face, flailing and gagging, he barely has time to cry out before Zenobia yanks him by the collar and plunges a gauntlet into his throat.
The crowd hisses and 'oohs' in response, some even going as far as shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Wyatt and Emir clutch onto one another while Wyatt offers a hand of support to nearby Fletcher.
In the arena, the sound of the Five male's cannon kicks it all off. Emery, instructed to shoot upon commotion, pops out from her hiding spot and fires off a few rounds at the startled Three-Fives below. The tributes scatter, yelping and hissing curses. One male from Three is struck and limps off camera. Only two return fire with a rickety pistol and revolver respectively and judging by how slow and conservative their shots are, their ammunition is near dry.
"Wattson! use it!" barks the Three boy.
A Five boy, Wattson, fishes out some sort of compact pistol that's too big to be a proper handgun and it'sagrenadelauncher. He fires it and the theater exclaims as the bullet explodes, dislodging the box Emery was hiding in and causing it to crash onto the warehouse floor.
I check my communicuff. Emery's vitals are green. The Gamemakers must be scrambling, because they keep cutting from one camera to the next in an attempt to find one that isn't either destroyed, or covered in dust and soot.
When they finally find a working camera, we witness the dissolvement of the Three-Five alliance. Perhaps they thought the ambush was bigger than it was and decided to cut their losses like most of their Districts' tributes. One Five male grabs the nearest bag and dashes out the exit. The lone Five female follows, scrambling out of the building huffing and puffing. In her possession is none other than the makeshift weapon that Three male coveted so much.
"Soleil!" the Three in question whines while stumbling out after her, hand outstretched as if the contraption was his lifeline…in a way, it was. "Soleil! Get back her-"
The boy was so busy wanting to get his weapon back, he didn't notice the black mine she'd placed prior. It explodes, launching him a few feet into the air as he slams onto a rusted-out car and lands face first into a shallow puddle.
The Five female, Soleil, didn't even bother to spare even a glance backward.
The audience gasps. I manage a soft snort, mentally reminding myself to check out the death compilations for this year. So satisfying.
The screens split three ways. Seemingly one for each feed due to all the chaos. One feed shows the Three boy face down, legless, in a literal pool of blood, one shows Soleil and her partner continuing to flee while the other showcases Emery, sluggish and confused, stumbling from out of the collapsed structure, only to drop onto her knees, fatigued. In the theater, the audience is beside itself.
"Wake up!" one audience member shouts.
"Snap out of it Emery!" cries another.
As for me, I'm hoping that another feed will show up showcasing the real reason we're all attentive. Where is Zenobia?
On screen, Wattson is confused at the sight of a Thirteen-year-old being the cause of all this destruction, but his confusion quickly turns into one of anger as he rushes toward the dazed girl with a lead pipe in hand.
The audience rejoices, rising to their feet and cheering. I join them, watching as Zenobia saves the day, her bayonet charge skewering Wattson through his chest and out the back. The momentum of Zenobia's charge raises the young man off the ground as she drives him onto the floor, stabbing him again despite the crimson overflowing from his lips.
I sit back down, grinning from ear to ear. It reminds me of yesterday's kill. The D10 female. So violent. So satisfying.
Three cannons fire all in all. The skittish Five who lies forgotten off to the side, the Three who's in literal pieces and Wattson who lies splayed out under Zenobia's boot. The audience is still applauding as she tugs the bayonet from out of his chest, turning towards Emery who continues to huff and pant.
Zenobia extends a helping hand. "You alright?" Emery does nothing but stare at her, chest heaving so heavily I think she might keel over and die right there. Unperturbed, Zenobia stands up, scanning the room once again for any potential threat. "'S'plosion was pretty loud. Coupled with the boundary, we should probably get movin-"
Tears running down her face, Emery shakes her head.
"I don't want to be allies anymore!" she blurts out.
The gasps in response from the audience are sharp and audible. My brows quirk as the theater descends into a mad garble of speculation.
Of all the ways I expected the alliance to end, this wasn't one of them. And to think that I thought it'd end with Zenobia offering her comfort as she took her final breath. Like how most alliances of this stripe typically end.
Pity. It would've made amazing drama. Much better drama than last time.
A/N: Did I outright lie to you...72 hours my butt...My bad. But then again, people say they'll update soon and soon never comes sooo...I'm still stockpiling, **so expect the same length of time as this update.**
Coming Up Next...
I know I'm on the right track due to the dead or dying muttated dogs lying about - I count five. All the surrounding buildings are either destroyed or welded shut except the… 'DEUTSCHE BANK CENTER'.