Colt Ramirez
District 10 Male Tribute
When Colt woke up that morning, it was promising to be a good day. Well, as good as Reaping Day could be.
There was no school on Reaping Day, so that meant sleeping in. He didn't even have to go to Crane Ranch for work.
The Ramirez Family was well off by District 10 standards, which was good, given the starvation across the district. The way the Capitol told it, Ten was the second poorest district.
Colt didn't want to know what Twelve must look like if they were worse off.
He happily slept in until noon. He would have slept longer if Diego and Marietta hadn't woken him up. Diego was fourteen, and Mariette was twelve. Colt didn't have to worry about either of them getting Reaped. No one in the family took Terressae.
Colt had lazily gotten up. Breakfast was ham and eggs, a treat they got on Reaping Day. It was a good, hardy breakfast. He put on his white shirt and his brown pants. Colt mockingly called them his Reaping best. His mother hugged each of them before they left.
Colt wasn't worried as he made his way to the square with his family. He wasn't worried when the peacekeepers checked him in. He wasn't worried when Katarinara Clem, Ten's escort, called "Fay Flick" as the female tribute.
Colt was a little sad to see her go. They weren't close, but Fay worked at Crane Ranch with him. They worked together sometimes. Charro, one of the overseers, had it out for her, but he was a dick.
Colt hoped her family would be okay. She had four younger siblings, two sets of twins each. All of them were too young to work, unlike Deigio, who'd be starting at the Ranch this year.
When Katarinara called for volunteers, no one stepped forward. Why would they? Tribute might as well mean death in Ten.
Katarinara called for another round of applause. It was half-hearted. The Capitol might crack down on Ten if they didn't.
Katarinara walked over to the boy's bowl and took a slip out. "Colt Ramirez!"
And there went his good day. Colt didn't remember walking up the stairs. He didn't remember talking to Katarinara or shaking hands with the mayor. His mind was working a thousand miles an hour.
Colt didn't come back to himself until he was in the Justice Building. His mother, Frida, was the first one in. Diego and Marietta trailed Frida in.
His little siblings were crying. Colt did his best to console them, but nothing worked. In District 10, being a tribute meant a death sentence.
His mother didn't cry once. She was always strong. Frida had to be after his father's death. Now, Frida might lose a son.
Colt promised he'd come back home. He'd win the Hunger Games, and they'd all live in one of the big houses in Victor's Village. They'd be rich. They would never have to work again.
Frida promised she would take care of everyone, even if it meant extra shifts at the Ranch.
"Take care of Duke while I'm gone."
Frida smiled. "You and that horse."
Diego promised to take as many as he could.
The peacekeepers came as he was holding his sister. It was fine for the family to leave.
Only one other person came to visit him: Martinez. Martinez was an overseer at the Ranch, but they had been friends long before they started working.
"If your family needs anything, I'll help. I told the same thing to your mom."
Martinez was an only child. His parents were dead. He didn't have a girlfriend or anyone else he needed to care for. The money he made as an overseer went to him.
If worse came to worse, his family wouldn't starve.
"Thank you."
Colt wished they had longer to talk, but the peacekeepers came and took him away. He watched as his best friend disappeared beyond the door.
Soon after, the peacekeepers came for him. More reporters were waiting for them at the train station, but Colt refused to give them anything. He kept his head held up, ignoring the tears in the corner of Fay's eyes. He hoped her tears wouldn't show up on camera.
They stood for a few minutes in the doorway so the reporters could get pictures. Then Katarinara pulled them in. The doors close, and the train began moving.
Colt had never been on a train before. Travel between the districts was forbidden unless it was for official business. Or you were rich. And a Capitol citizen.
Colt knew a few guys who got lucky enough to be on the meat transports. They even got to see the Capitol from a distance. After they unloaded, they came back, but it was more than Colt had ever seen.
Until now, that was. Unlike those guys, he'd be getting to see the Capitol up close and personal.
Colt wished he was anywhere else but here. He could tell from the first room it was far more luxurious than the meat trains.
It might as well be the meat transports. Two slabs of meat were being transported to the Capitol.
The speed impressed him. The Tribute Trains were a lot faster than the transport trains. It went 250 miles an hour. They'd be in the Capitol in less than a day.
Katarinara Clem cleared her voice. "You two look better than last year's crop."
Last year, the two kids had come from the mountains, the poorest part of District 10. If some people in the Settlement starved, most people in the mountains were on the brink of starvation.
Colt didn't like her, but Katarinara didn't seem bothered. "Come along."
Katarinara showed them to their rooms first. They were more luxurious than Colt could have imagined. His family was well off in Ten, but he might as well have been dirt. He wondered if this was how the people in the Capitol lived.
No wonder they were content to watch him die. If Colt had been born Capitol, would he care about Ten?
Katarinara told them to change. The rags from Ten would no longer be acceptable. It was time for them to dress properly.
Colt started to hate Katarinara, but he took her advice. She was the standard he would use to judge the Capitol. If he wanted to get back home, he needed to please the audience.
That meant pleasing Katarinara.
"Come, children. It's time to eat. You want to meet your mentors, don't you?"
In all seventy-two years of the Hunger Games, District 10 has had four Victors. Only three of them were alive. The only time Colt had ever seen either of them was at the Reapings.
Colt and Fay followed her through a narrow, rocking corridor into a dining room with polished walls. There was a small table with four empty plats. Two chairs sat on either side.
One set of chairs was empty. Rowan Lockhart and Grace Hoover sat opposite.
Grace Hoover won the 46th Hunger Games. Rowan Lockhart won the 60th. These two had been fixtures in Ten since Samuel Henson died in Victor's Village. Samuel was Ten's first Victor, winner of the 3rd ever Hunger Games.
Rowan was dressed like a cowboy, from the hat down to the spurs on his boots. He had smoking a cigar when he came in. Grace was waving the smoke away.
"Do you have to do that here?"
Rowan chuckled, but he put it out. Then his eyes fell on Colt and Fay. "Before you sit down, we have a question. Do you want to be mentored separately or together?"
Colt understood the real meaning behind the question. Did they want to alley in the games or go in alone? Colt had decided before he left the Justice Building that he wasn't going to alley with a tribute from another district. Not unless they could prove he could trust them. Colt didn't see how they could. His survival meant their deaths.
Colt didn't want to get close to an alley and have to kill them. He didn't want to risk getting stabbed in the back. The other districts were off the table.
His eyes flashed over to Fay. She was from Ten, like him. They even worked at the same ranch. If there was anyone in the games he could put a little trust in, it was her.
That wouldn't stop her from killing him. But tributes who killed their district partners before the final two had a hard time facing home. If Kay killed him early and got home, she'd be an outcast for the rest of her life.
That social shaming could be enough to keep her from sticking a knife in his ribs.
But more than that, he didn't think Fay would knife him in his sleep. They worked together for over a year. She was kind.
But the Hunger Games changed people.
Fay said: "I don't mind if we're mentored together."
Grace turned to look at him. "Well, well? It's up to you."
Colt knew having an alley would keep him alive longer. Fay was his best option. His only option, really. Colt could do worse.
"Together," he agreed.
Rowan pointed at the plats. "Fill one up, and we can start talking strategy."
Dinner was a buffet where you could take anything you wanted. Colt loaded his plate up with eggs, sausage, and bacon. It was more than he'd ever have the chance to eat at home.
He could have gone for fancier Capitol food like Fay, but he just wanted something that tasted like home right now.
And boy, did they taste like homr. A majority of the District 10's products got sent to the Capitol. Colt was sure the food he was eating came from Ten.
Colt's eyes flickered to Katarinara. Their escort was piling food away like there was no tomorrow. How much of it had come from Ten? Too much.
They take our food and watch us starve.
Rowan took a big bite of his frankfurter. "That's good. You should try one, boy."
He didn't get on this train to get good food. "What should we do?"
Rowan swallowed. "I take it you two are going to be allies?"
Colt looks at Fay. She shrugged. "For now. As long as it's the two of us."
Grace raised an eyebrow. "No other districts?"
"Fay can if she wants."
Fay didn't answer.
"Then we'll start the opening ceremonies first. I know, I know. You want to get to the meat of things, but we're going to be pulling into the Capitol early tomorrow. Your prep teams are going to get their hands on you. I doubt you'll like what they will do, but don't fight it."
Colt nodded. That didn't seem like an unreasonable request.
"Are we going to be naked?" Fay asked.
Grace nodded. "They're going to strip you naked. They'll remove any scars on you. Say goodbye to body hair."
"Is it bad?" Fay asked.
"It isn't pleasant, but if you want to survive, let them do their job." Rowan dipped his sasuage into a yellow sauce. "Let's not get off topic. We need to talk about the careers."
"What about the careers?" Colt asked. He had his pride. If Rowan suggested that he join the careers, the old Victor had another thing coming.
"They'll be targetting you."
That threw him. "Targeting us? Why?"
Rowan leaned across the table, waving the sausage around. "They target us every year. We have a habit of being killed early. It's been this way since the careers started volunteering.
"They call us compeditors. Seven, Nine, and Ten are considered the black sheep districts. We're the biggest compeditors of the outliers. They like to take us out early. You saw what Johanna Mason did last year, right? She pulled the rug out and cut them all down."
Johanna was a wild card, and she butchered her way through the careers. Colt remembered Rowan's games. He got away from the bloodbath and teamed up with the kids from Nine. They gave the careers a hell of a run.
Joy Fontaine
District 5 Female Tribute
"You're too protective," Astrid Batteri said. She was Joy's mentor. She had won the Hunger Games more than a decade ago. Astrid knew what she was doing, but the venom in her voice surprised her.
"What?"
Astrid sighed. She looked over at the drunk man sitting next to her. He was supposed to be Five's other mentor, but he was drunk.
District 5 had three living Victors. All the rumors said the same thing: Astrid and Porter were the only Victors worthy of being called a mentor.
She might be worthy of the title, but Astrid Batteri was a jaded woman. The Hunger Games changed her. Joy didn't like to talk bad about people, but whoever Astrid was before was gone.
Astrid Batteri was mean.
She pointed at Dean Alba. "He's twelve."
Joy nodded. "I know."
"Break the alliance."
Joy flinched away from the venom in her voice. "Why?"
"Because he's twelve."
"What's so wrong about that?"
"No twelve-year-old has ever won the Hunger Games. That boy will drag you down with him. If you want to win, let him go."
Joy thought about letting him go. What would happen to a defenseless boy in the Hunger Games? She already knew. She had watched the Hunger Games her whole life.
"I can't."
Astrid pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're too kind. So kind it makes me sick. Go get something to eat. I can't look at you."
"You're our mentor-"
"I'm your mentor," Astrid corrected her. "He's Dean's mentor."
"I know you take care of both tributes. You do it every year."
"Joy, go eat. Right now, all you need to know is not to resist your stylists."
That was the first piece of advice Astrid had given her.
"I need time to think. I made you talk about yourselves for two hours. It wasn't because you're interesting."
Just then, Pylon Lumos opened his eyes. Even from across the table, Joy could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Still being a bitch, Astrid?"
"Shut up," she hissed.
Pylon laughed. "Maybe we should have gotten Porter to mentor this year."
Astrid rolled her eyes. "She can't. You know that."
Joy was lost. "Why can't she?"
Porter was supposed to be kinder than Pylon or Astrid.
Pylon hiccuped. "She got a special invitation to attend the games with... Who was it again?"
"Vice President Summer."
Pylon snapped his fingers. "That's right. I hate that bitch."
Astrid glared at him. "Shut up!"
Joy looked around, but there was no cohort of peacekeepers bursting into the train car. She almost couldn't believe it. Head Peacekeeper Throne would string anyone up for saying something like that at home.
Maybe not Porter, Pylon, or Astrid, but they were Victors. They were valuable to the Capitol. Anyone else couldn't get away with saying something like that.
"You can't say things like that."
"Why not? I don't have anyone left."
"We have tributes," she hissed.
"So what? You hate them!"
"That's not the point. We're supposed to be doing our best to bring them back."
"I never sighed up to bring anyone back. The Capitol forced it on me, and they can shove-"
Astrid dumped a pitcher of water over him.
"What the hell was that for?!"
"I told you to shut up."
Pylon stood up and flipped Astrid off. He walked out of the dining car, muttering insults under his breath.
"You should be thankful I'm your mentor. And not that."
Joy was still processing what happened. She always thought the Victors were happy. Astrid and Pylon didn't get along.
Joy wanted to ask what made Pylon like that, but she didn't want to start another argument.
"A word of advice. I'm an ABAC, so I'd keep that in mind when you decide on allies."
ABAC?" Joy repeated.
"Anyone but a career. If you join the pack, I'll leave you in Pylon's hands."
Joy suddenly had a flashback to the 52nd Hunger Games. The year Astrid won. Cornered by the girls from 1 and 2, they made sport of hurting her.
They didn't kill her. That gave Astrid the chance to push them off that cliff. She'd go on to win the Hunger Games when the careers supplies were burned.
But she suffered for an hour while they put on a show. Joy couldn't blame her for hating them, but she didn't see what that had to do with who she allied with.
"Go. Eat," Astrid commanded.
Joy didn't need to be told twice.
Dean was on the other side of the dining car. Like any twelve-year-old would, he was shoving sweats down his throat. Joy couldn't blame him. Dean came from the Light Bulb. It was the poorest neighborhood in Five. She was willing to bet he never ate his fill.
Dean smiled when he saw her. "Joy! You have to try this! The chief said it's called Chocolate Cake!"
Dean's dimples showed when he smiled. Dean and Faith shared the same time. If he was a girl, Joy might have mistaken him for Faith.
Dean and Faith were so similar in so many ways. Joy couldn't bring herself to even think about abandoning him. It would feel like abandoning Faith, and Joy would cut her throat before she did that.
Joy decided not to tell him what their mentor just told her. Joy doubted the careers would take either one of them, but Dean was already afraid of Astrid. He didn't need another reason to fear her.
"Chocolate Cake?" she repeated. She had seen it plenty of times on TV. The rich people in the district could afford one, but not her family. Even with her father working several jobs so they didn't starve, her family could never afford real cake.
Joy's mouth watered as she stared at the slice Dean cut for her.
Chocolate, it turned out, tasted like heaven. Did everyone in the Capitol get to eat like this? Joy tried to imagine what it must be like to have chocolate cake with every meal.
If she could have cake with every meal, she'd be fat. The Capitol women on TV always talked about getting fat from too much cake.
Joy didn't want to believe something so good could be that bad for you.
It might be good for her. Joy needed to put on a few pounds. She remembered last year's reaping. The kids from One, Two, and Four were better fed than her. They were always better fed than her.
Joy didn't have to worry about starving. Her father made sure of that with all those hours in the factory.
For a moment, her family overwhelmed her. Her father had to work at the factory so they didn't starve. What were they going to do without Joy there? After her mother died, she took over the household. She made sure everything ran as it should. Her father was too busy with work.
What would they do without her?
She cut off a piece of cake and took another bite. It was so sweet!
BANG! The compartment door was hurled open.
Amara Penbrook stood in the doorway, her dyed purple hair dripping wet. Had she just come from the shower? Her clothes were wrinkled and untidy like she had been hurried from whatever she was doing.
Joy had never seen District 5's escort look so human. Amara was breathing heavily and glaring at a man standing next to her.
The man was young, in his late twenties or early thirties. He had the Capitol look about him like he had never gone hungry for a day.
It took a moment for Joy to place him: he was Napoleon Argyle. He was the apprentice of some big-shot designer. Last year, he became District 12's stylist.
Joy remembered him for two very specific reasons. One, he looked normal. Napoleon didn't look alien-like most people from the Capitol did.
The other reason is that he sent both tributes from the coal district out naked. Black powder to simulate coal dust was the only that covered the tribute's shame.
Why was Napoleon Argyle here? District 12's stylist looked around until his eyes fell on her. "There she is! There's my girl!"
His girl? What was that supposed to mean?
Amara sighed. "How did you even get on the train? You're not authorized to leave the Capitol."
"I snuck on," Napoleon Argyle said shamelessly. "I needed to see what I'm working with in person."
Now Joy was confused. "Then why aren't you on District 12's train?"
"Twelve?" Napoleon repeated. "Why ever would I be on their train?"
"Aren't you District 12's stylist?" Joy asked.
Now Napoleon laughed. "By Jove, no! Trigress retired last year, and the Games Board offered me District 5. It's not One, Two, or Four, but you're better than Twelve!"
Joy had a horrible feeling swell up in the pit of her stomach. "Then you're our stylist?"
Napoleon poked her on the nose. "No. I'm your stylist."
It was hard to keep the smile on her face. "My... My stylist?"
Napoleon nodded regally. "You should be honored."
Honor was the last emotion Joy was feeling.
Piercing laughter ripped through the air. Pylon was pounding on the wall. When had he returned? "Oh, that's rich!"
Napoleon whipped around to face him. "What's so funny, Mr. Lumos?"
"You should've been a clown instead of a stylist. I hope you didn't go into debt for Games College."
Napoleon looked offended. "I have paid off my debt!"
"Being a stylist in the games must pay way."
Napoleon looked smug. "100,000 denari a year."
"Doesn't Ceasar Flickermen earn 10,000,000 a year?"
"What's your point, Mr. Lumos?"
"You sent two kids into the parade naked last year. Not very stylish, if you ask me."
Napoleon flushed. "I had no choice. Someone burned my costumes!"
"So you sent them out naked."
"Your point?"
"I don't know. I'm not the younger brother of Julius Argyle. I didn't graduate from Games College. But it seems to me that you should have had something more impressive."
Privately, Joy agreed with Pylon. He was supposed to be a professional, but he tried to make being naked the next advancement in fashion.
It didn't work, and the last thing Joy wanted was to get on that chariot without any clothes on.
But she couldn't bring herself to voice those thoughts. Maybe Astrid was right.
"Napoleon, what are you doing here?"
"Why, if it isn't Astrid. My dear friend."
Joy didn't miss the way Astrid cringed. It seems that Napoleon wasn't very popular with Five's Victors.
"Do the Gamemakers know you're here?"
"By Jove, no. I'm sure I will get a stern talking-to when I get home, but I needed to see her in person. I needed to get a look at my muse!"
Maybe Joy could learn to like him. No one called her a muse before. That was kind of him.
"I'm your muse?"
Napoleon rounded on her. "Oh yes. My dear, from the first laid eyes on you, inspiration struck! I'm so lucky they gave me District 5 this year. I have an idea that will blow the competition out of the water!"
His eyes flickered to Dean for a moment. "The two of you will be unforgettable. I'm sure my partner will agree with him. She's new this year, so I have seniority."
Pylon snorted. "I'm going to report you to the Games Board."
"For what?"
"Sneaking on the Tribute Train. You weren't authorized to leave the Capitol. Maybe I should report you to the Department of Transportation. Or immigration instead."
Astrid slapped him on the back of the head. "Pylon, give it a rest. Napoleon isn't hurting anyone. And we need stylists. I've seen his work. It's good... When he isn't sending tributes naked into the game."
Author's Note: I totally stole the idea of the ABAC from Oisin55. If you haven't read The Victors Project, read it now.
I mean it. Victors Project is my favorite Hunger Games Fanfiction. Oisin55 has other fics, but VP is the best. Feel free to quote me on that.