Train Journey, Day One
June 22nd, 2427
Romulus Ryker, 18, District Two
Romulus takes in a deep breath, relaxing his clenched fists a little. His mind manages to stay focused and his thoughts organised. Just relax. Charm your way to victory. Be polite. Be the career they want to see.
The train rocks beneath his feet, snapping him back to reality. He paces over to the window and leans his hand on its frame, his eyes following the trees as they zoom past outside. His heart beats slower again; it's finally able to relax after the adrenaline of the reapings.
Romulus is free. He is hurtling miles and miles away from his father, from his life in Two.
Truthfully, Romulus could never quite do what was expected of him. He could never be confined like a bird in a cage. Even when Romulus was a baby, he was breaking out of his crib on quests to explore the world. Now it has finally been realised; he is his own person. He's not a bird in a cage, he's a bird flying free. He was never supposed to inherit his grandfather's business. The games are his destiny and the world is going to love him.
A smile appears on the young man's face, then he strolls over to a table with a bounce in his step.
Eventually, Meridia, his district partner, enters the carriage. Their eyes lock onto each other's, neither looking away until she reaches the seat opposite him. She looks very typical for a career from District Two with brown eyes, short brown hair, and an athletic, muscular build.
Romulus plasters the most charming smile on his face that he can manage - a smile he saw on his grandfather when he was trying to charm an investor into putting money into his business.
The girl opposite him remains stoic. She rests her elbows on the table and narrows her eyes at him. "That was quite the show you put on back there at the reapings," she comments.
Romulus leans back on his chair, resting his hands behind his head. "Impressed?" He asks.
She shrugs. "I don't like rogue volunteers. We're supposed to set an example to the other districts and that means playing by the rules."
"Well, sometimes, in order to set an example, someone needs to go against the status quo and take things into their own hands," Romulus responds, dropping his smile.
(Romulus has seen Meridia around in the academy but this is the first time they have had a full conversation. She spent more time getting to know Cassius - as he was supposed to be her district partner.)
"That sounds almost… a little rebellious," a voice calls from down the carriage.
Romulus turns his head back. A young woman, likely in her early twenties, is walking down the train toward them. She has long, thin brown hair, freckles, and bright blue eyes. It's the same woman that was at the reapings - Tatiana Emery.
Much about her games and the events that followed have been shrouded in secrecy, especially in Two. However, she was branded as a rebel to the entire country for years… until President Storm revealed she had been a double agent or something the entire time.
"I…I only meant that sometimes to get something done, you gotta do it yourself," Romulus affirms as Tatiana stops beside the pair.
"No, no. You got me wrong. There's nothing wrong with a little rebellion now and again," Tatiana says with a cheeky smile.
Romulus looks over to Meridia and she has the same bemused, quirked brow as him.
Tatiana sits down on the table across from them, places her left boot on her right knee, and leans forward. "So… it seems I will be your mentor this year."
"You ever mentored anyone before?" Romulus asks directly.
"Nope. But then I have been a little preoccupied over the last few years."
"Oh yeah… how could you stand it? I mean being with those treacherous, dirty rebels for all those years?" Meridia laughs. "Must have been unbearable."
Tatiana's eyes drift down to the train floor. "Yeah," she chuckles lightly. "Yeah, it was…"
"So…Miss Mentor," Romulus says, leaning forward. "Given your experience, what would be your number one tip?" He asks, wanting to bring the conversation back to the games.
The young mentor stands up, placing her hand under her chin. She begins pacing up and down before finally, her eyes light up like a light bulb. "You're gonna be a part of the career pack. The most important thing to watch out for is other careers manipulating the alliance for their own ends. The Hunger Games is a mind game as much as it is a physical game."
Romulus crosses his arms. "Oh?"
"Trust me, I watched the boy from Four in my games do it and by the time anybody noticed, half of us were dead."
"Good to know."
Moments later, Tatiana leaves the two of them alone for "an important call."
"So…" Meridia begins. "You're not gonna be one of these manipulators that I'm gonna have to watch out for am I?"
Romulus leans back on his chair again, giving her a cocky smirk. "That depends."
"On what?"
"Let's say… you report back to me on any manipulators you find and I'll report back to you on any I find, and agree not to manipulate each other. How does that sound?"
Meridia raises an eyebrow. "And how do I know you're not manipulating me right now?"
"You don't… but I'm not, and you'll see for yourself if you stick with me."
Meridia nods. "Fine, looks like we have a deal."
"Course we do," Romulus smirks, placing his hands back behind his head and placing his feet on the table. "This is gonna be a piece of cake, trust me."
"I sure hope so."
Meridia stretches her arms and yawns. "I guess I'll see you later, for dinner." Then she pushes herself up and heads for her room.
Romulus stares out of the afternoon sun has begun to dip outside the window, casting a red glow across the land. A flock of birds glide overhead, and he smiles to himself. He's free now, just like them, on top of the world.
Day Amatore, 18, District Five
Day cannot believe her eyes. This has to be a joke.
Whether they can believe it or not, the fact remains that he is sitting there, a few meters down the train carriage from her - Meridian Birdie, the boy who ruined their life.
He's looking particularly pristine, his curly brown hair combed neatly, and wearing a standard suit and tie; no doubt his father dressed them that way. Yet, Meridian's eyes are as dead as they were two years ago, if not more so. It's like staring at a corpse.
(That's the only part of this cruel irony that's brightening up this otherwise awful situation. That the two people responsible for the destruction of Dawning Avenue are being sent to die together.)
Even metres away, Day and Meridian's eyes meet, and the entire carriage suddenly becomes the battleground of an intense staring competition. Both teenagers refuse to back down and only squint their eyes harder and harder at each other. What right does Meridian have to be mad at her? They are the one who ruined her life. They are the one that deceived and lied and stole everything from Day and her family.
(Day can only imagine it is because of the bad press Fly High Energy has been getting since they launched their attacks against the company two years ago.)
Day leans back on their chair and crosses their arms. "What you starin' at?" they ask.
"You looked at me first!" Meridian shoots back.
"Did not!"
It's almost like a fever dream, hearing his voice again after all this time. She has so much to say to him. So much. Yet none of the words seem to be materialising.
"Well, I could do this all day," Day snarls.
"Oh don't worry, me too!"
A few more seconds pass before Meridian pushes themself up out of their seat, storms further down the train, and plonks himself down at the back. Not long after, Day does the same in the opposite direction. But after all of that, they still find themselves staring at each other.
Their stare is only broken by the sound of the carriage door opening. A middle-aged woman enters, who Day would guess is in her fifties. She has a permanently serious expression like this job is the most important one in the world.
She glances between the two tributes on either side of the carriage then furrows her eyebrows. "Is… there something going on here?"
The woman receives no answer, causing her to clear her throat. "I understand that you two know each other?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Day answers, sternly.
The mentor's face falls into her hands. "Ok." She steps into the middle of the train and snaps her fingers at the two rows of seats beside her. "If you would be so kind."
Day curls her fists together but eventually concedes. This mentor has done nothing to deserve disrespect - and besides, Day wants everyone to see "Sunny Day" not "Pissed off Day." So, she gives their mentor the sunniest smile she can muster. Meridian reluctantly follows suit, joining them at the table in the middle of the carriage but keeping the same neutral expression.
The mentor sighs, taking a seat on the table parallel to them. "Let's start from the beginning." She points to herself. "My name is Nicola, victor of the sixty-sixth Hunger Games, and one of the last living victors from the days before the coup."
(The coup is not something that's allowed to be discussed much, so Day is surprised when Nicola openly mentions it.)
Nicola then opens her arms wide. "And you are Day, and Meridian, correct?"
Day's eyes meet Meridian's again fleetingly. They turn back to the mentor and give her a nod.
"Great," she exclaims. "Finally we're getting somewhere."
Nicola straightens up her back. "Now, I don't much care about whatever happened between you. My job is to try to get one of you out alive. Recent statistics show that kids with allies last longer but of course, alliances come with their own challenges."
The straight-talking mentor moves to the side to reveal a deep scar on her neck.
"I-I remember reading about you now," Meridian suddenly mutters. "A-about your games."
Nicola nods. "The boy from Eight was my last remaining ally, and he turned on me when I least expected it… I trusted him."
Day and Meridian glance at each other again.
"The point is… you may not like each other very much, but you know each other. The same cannot be said for the other twenty-four tributes," Nicola finishes.
Meridian scowls at Day. "So you're saying… keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer, is that it?" They ask, turning back to his mentor.
"I… I guess that's one way of putting it."
Day promptly returns the scowl to their District partner. "Meridian would know all about that, they've had practice."
Meridian shoots up out of his chair in anger. "I-I had no choice… y-you don't understand!"
"What don't I understand?" Day bellows back.
Meridian can't seem to answer. They can only pant heavily with confusion and despair in their eyes.
(Maybe he truly doesn't know the answer to that question.)
(Either way, Day doesn't care. She has the capacity for sympathy for a lot of people but not the boy who destroyed Dawning Avenue.)
"So… is that a yes, then?" Nicola mutters, moving her eyes awkwardly between the two furious teens.
Day stares into Meridian's perplexed and angry eyes for a moment. They remember Lucky and Ava, her parents, and all the other people scattered around Five who need her. If she's going to get back to them, then they may need to ally with her nemesis.
She smiles at Nicola. "Ok, I'll do it."
Both their eyes then go to Meridian who has now calmed his breathing down. "Fine," they say. "Your logic adds up. Sometimes to succeed in life, you've got to make sacrifices."
Day has heard those words before but not from them, they've heard them from Meridian's father on the TV. He continues to echo his father like a trained parrot.
"Excellent," Nicola says, pushing herself up. "In two days, we have the tribute parade. So we're gonna want people to believe you like each other… just a little. Do you think you can do that?"
Now she is asking a lot.
"I'll try," is the only answer she gives.
Meridian shrugs. "I'll see what I can do."
Nicola departs from the carriage. Day soon follows, not wanting to stare at Meridian's face any longer. They lock themself in their room and plonk themself down on the bed with their head in their hands.
Inside her drawer, she finds her old paper cap, given to her by her family. She fits it firmly on her head, where it will stay until she gets back to District Five.
Zora Iskra, 14, District Six
Zora can almost see it. Today would have been the day. Bexley's smile of sunshine as they sit in the fields and Zora's heart is filled with warmth. She can almost see it… almost. Somehow she's here, on this train - travelling to the Capitol to fight to her death.
The tears have been wanting to break through for a few hours, like a dam ready to burst. But something is holding them back because deep down in her mind she still hasn't comprehended what's happened.
(Her mind is there, in that field, having that picnic she planned with Bexley.)
Her heart is buzzing like there's a hive of insects trying to escape. Usually, when she was getting consumed with anxiety, she'd turn to her alchemy, and begin mixing together a new concoction. Here though, she has nothing to turn to.
Just then, boots thud slowly through the train carriage towards where Zora is sitting. Their escort enters the carriage, followed by Zora's district partner, Jokull. The slim boy is still clad in black leather from head to toe. His scruffy black hair hangs down over his pale skin at shoulder length. His icy blue eyes catch Zora's very briefly before he takes a seat at the dining table.
The escort is red in the face and already scowling at Jokull. Zora instinctively moves up the carriage to sit with them - not wanting to be left alone with her own thoughts any longer.
"So I don't want to find you in the driver's compartment again, is that clear?" The old escort snaps as Zora takes a seat opposite Jokull.
Jokull simply shrugs and casually takes a bite out of a slice of lemon drizzle cake. "Whatever you say, old man." The boy's voice is as cold as his eyes.
The escort clenches his jaw but manages to compose himself by taking a deep breath and brushing his white hair back. "Anyway," he continues, switching to a lighter tone. "Our two volunteers of District Six. Two separate volunteers, nobody has been this excited for that stinking, rat-infested place for years." The old man glances between Zora and Jokull. "And by rats, I mean you two."
"In that case, you should be careful," Jokull interjects. "Rats have a tendency to bite, or so I've heard."
The escort simply replies with a roll of the eyes in an attempt to brush off the comment. He sits down at the table and opens out his arms to the two tributes. "So, I know that everyone will be dying to hear your stories, so why don't you start by telling me?"
Jokull calmly raises his hand and points at the escort. "If I'm not mistaken, you already keep files on us, which include anything you can get your grubby hands on about our lives," he says, having now moved on to munching on a jam tart.
"Indeed," the escort replies, looking down at a hologram pad in his hand. "No family, except one brother. Grew up together in West Cinderage Orphanage until brother perished when the orphanage burned down in that fire a few years back…"
Zora's attention is peaked at this revelation. She stares at Jokull for a moment as the boy is gritting his teeth at the escort. The mention of his brother's death seems to have revealed a long-forgotten scar that has until now been hidden, if only briefly.
(When he first walked in, the two of them seemed worlds apart to Zora. But maybe they aren't so different after all?)
"It's curious," the escort continues, placing the pad down.
"What's curious?" Jokull shoots back.
"I've been doing this job for Six almost my entire life and I thought all the survivors of that fire were accounted for… but then suddenly you show up out of nowhere and volunteer…
"The cause of the fire was officially arson. However, they never did find the culprit."
Jokull stops munching and stares into the escort's eyes with the most frightening look that Zora has ever seen. "That sounds an awful lot like an accusation." He states.
The escort shrugs. "No… it's just curious is all."
The old man's eyes then move between the two tributes. His head slowly begins to shake. "What are we going to do with you two, hm?"
With that, he stands up and leaves, heading back to his room at the front of the train.
As the man disappears down the carriage with his back to them, Jokull sticks his middle finger up. "Up yours too, buddy."
Zora lets out a chuckle - the first since the reapings, and Jokull shifts his gaze back to her. "Thank fuck he's gone, I couldn't stand staring at his fake tan any longer," he says. Suddenly his eyes widen and he clasps his hand over his mouth. "I mean thank-"
"It's ok… I've heard swear words before," Zora says.
Silence returns to the train until Zora inhales to speak again. "I have to admit, I don't really understand why you volunteered. And you look a little strange to me…"
Jokull raises his eyebrows but smiles slightly at Zora's bluntness.
(Zora could never help being blunt, it just slips out sometimes before she realizes it might be perceived as rude.)
She swallows. "But… what happened to your brother… I-I think I understand your pain. I lost someone close to me too. My sister. I lost my sister."
(Zora isn't quite sure why she opened up to this stranger like that. She never really opens up to anyone besides her close family and Bexley. But since finding her sister's body two years ago, she's never met anyone that she thought might be able to understand her… well that is - not until now.)
Jokull's expression seems to remain blank, but Zora swears she can see a tint of empathy in the corner of his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he states. "What was her name?"
"K-Kalila… and your brother?"
"Aki."
After another silence, Jokull leans forward, inquisitively. "Where are my manners - you wanna form a pact, just you and me? Ain't nobody else gotta know about it."
Zora places her hand under her chin. "What kind of pact?"
"A simple one. We agree not to hurt each other in the arena." He tilts his head. "For Kalila and Aki, it's what they would have wanted, no?"
Zora nods, hesitantly. "I guess so…"
Jokull removes the black motorcycle glove from his left hand and shakes hers. "It's a deal, then."
The two of them spend the rest of the afternoon chatting away. Zora reveals her alchemy hobbies to him and in turn, she finds out that he's a motorcycle racer… or so he says. Somehow, she feels there's more to everything that comes out of his mouth - like a bunch of half-told stories.
The sun finally touches the edge of the hill, and a shadow is cast through the train window, covering half of Jokull's face in darkness. Zora finally lets out a deep yawn, having exhausted her social battery. At least the conversations with Jokull had helped distract her from what awaits since she doesn't have her alchemy to do it.
"I best be heading to bed… goodnight Jokull," she smiles as she stands up out of her chair.
"Good night," Jokull repeats. "And don't forget our pact."
Zora zooms off through the carriage and throws herself down onto the bed in her room. Hopefully, she'll wake up tomorrow in her own bed at home, and this will have all been some kind of terrible dream.
Suddenly, she throws her hands over her face. This "deal" that she made with Jokull is now occupying her mind non-stop. Zora is no idiot. She can't allow herself to get manipulated in any way. And what about the fire at the orphanage? Did he start it? His eyes seemed so empty at the mention of it. So many thoughts are bouncing through her brain, it will be a miracle if she gets any sleep at all…
Emery Vandermast, 18, District Ten
Emery's feet are lodged in place, like they are stuck in quicksand, as flames engulf the dining room of his father's restaurant. He watches as the finely-polished antique tables and chairs, that have been passed down for generations are incinerated in a matter of seconds. The screams of the patrons fill the entire restaurant but are soon drowned out by the fire.
Emery never saw this coming. He knew his father loved his dramatic monologues, but he never expected him to end it by setting himself on fire and taking his entire restaurant, full of all his customers and family, with him.
Emery's two brothers, Llewyn and Sylvester, were consumed in the inferno not long after the lunatic chef. They didn't really even try to flee, and they had the same maniacal expression as their father. Emery, on the other hand, is simply in a state of shock. But at last, his limbs seem to drag him away from the heat before he throws himself through the glass window.
The boy of only fifteen is left on a pile of glass, desperately coughing the fumes out of his lungs. He peers back to the sight of the foundations of the restaurant giving in, as the building finally collapsing into a pile of black ash and rubble.
But the fire isn't done yet, isn't done on its quest of fate. The flames begin hopping from building to building. Emery's feet now take him far away. As far away as they can before they give in.
(Don't get Emery wrong, he enjoyed watching that strange, sick little place burn to the ground, along with the people that owned it. Now he's free of all their constant jabs that he wasn't a true Vandemast because he wasn't manly enough, or their gaslighting that he's the reason his mother left.)
The boy is simply clinging onto something, to life. Maybe he'll find his mother. Or maybe his feet will lead him to someone, someone to give him a purpose for the first time in his life beyond being a kicked dog for his father.
Once the heat is no longer on Emery's back, he pauses and places his hands on his knees, gasping for air and coughing. Then, all he can do is watch as the fire spreads to Tulrango and the surrounding areas, including several of the nearby farms. Screams echo from the farms soon after… it seems that the fire would have one final card to play in Emery's life, after all.
A bump on the train track shakes Emery awake. Why was he dreaming about them? They are the least of his concerns at the moment. He had only gone for a lie-down.
(All he wants is to go back to his life, to his pie shop, and his new distraction - a guy named Osiris.)
But no. Instead, he has been reaped. He has been reaped and Ozias will be here with him, as if he volunteered because he just wanted to torment Emery further.
The young man rubs his face. He pushes himself out of his bed and slips into a shirt and denim jacket from his drawer. He checks the clock next to the bed - it's dinner time. A time he always used to dread as a child, as it meant he'd usually have to endure another one of his father's monologues.
He selects a book from one of the shelves and then slides open the door to his room before making his way through the train carriage to the dining table.
The escort is busy scoffing his face in the corner whilst the mentor is chatting with his district partner Auren. Although she doesn't seem to be the slightest bit interested in what the mentor is saying. The girl catches Emery out of the corner of her eye - eyes that soon turn to daggers. She is aggressively chewing on some gum, creating an aura of intimidation that Emery doesn't feel like crossing at the moment. He shoves his face in his book, a tactic he used to use in the past to escape from his family.
(Clearly, this will be a battle of minds as much as it will be a physical fight. And if he lets Auren intimidate him, then he's already lost. That must be her game plan going in.)
Emery lowers the book from his face, enough so that his eyes meet his district partner's. "Am I supposed to be scared?" He asks coldly.
Auren raises her eyebrow, then plants her boots up on the table, continuing to glare at him.
Emery begins plucking grapes out of their vines and shoving them in his mouth so that he's chewing as well. "I mean, we're gonna fight anyway, so this little charade of yours doesn't mean shit to me," he says as he scans around for more food to put in his mouth, despite not having any appetite. "Trust me, I've seen many people in Rustvale, and you don't look like the type that's ever taken a knife to a man's throat and watched them bleed out on the floor."
He connects his gaze with Auren's, hoping that his last words will force her to back down. But her expression remains the same.
"You're right," she answers, staring down at her clenched fists. "I much prefer to smash my knuckles into people's skulls."
This gets a smirk out of Emery, just as their mentor returns to his seat.
"Just in time for the recap!" The mentor says, pointing to the screen.
Each highlight from the reapings is displayed yet again, along with the commentary from the stuck-up Capitolites who remind Emery of some of his father's patrons.
The recap cuts through the different districts. So many volunteers, which will likely mean harder competition; just Emery's luck. Other than the careers, the volunteer boys from Six and Eight look to be a threat. And then of course there's Ozias. Emery rolls his eyes and diverts his attention back to his book just to avoid staring at his ex's ecstatic, boastful act of forcing himself back into Emery's life.
(He'd already done that once before. In Rustvale, in that saloon where they first met...)
Auren is observing his reaction out of the corner of her eye. "What's the matter? You know him or somethin'?"
Emery lets out a deep sigh. "As a matter of fact, I do."
"Oh?"
"H-he's from Ten, believe it or not… just a common cutthroat that made a name for himself in Rustvale before moving onto Tulrango, nothing more."
"Sure," Auren mutters, unconvinced. She then turns away, clearly losing interest in the conversation.
That is when their mentor leans in to join in the conversation. "You know, just from the reapings, people are already placing high bets on him as a favorite to win," he says.
Emery rolls his eyes again, this time to the back of his skull. He's not going to spend his evening talking to people he doesn't like very much about Ozias. That's just the attention that the freak always wanted.
He pushes himself up from his seat and storms past the dining table.
"What are you doing?" The escort asks, finally ceasing his chewing.
"I'm not hungry," Emery shoots back.
First train rides! First tribute interaction! Next time we catch up with Reese, Gene, Ren and Briar. Thank you reading!
