"Breaking news: Head gamemaker Lullaby Amadeus found dead in her penthouse apartment. No culprit has been found," buzzed the old television, the grainy voice of the announcer blaring through the small room. A young man sat slumped over in a chair, clearly asleep, head pushed down on top of several papers. His blonde hair was ruffled to the side, and his clothes were wrinkled from several days of wear.
As the television blared its announcement, he stirred, blinking one eye open as he grumbled from being woken up. Turning his head, he stared blankly at the tv, not quite processing what he saw there. However, after a few seconds, he finally heard the words coming from it, bolting upright and spinning around in his chair to stare at the screen.
Was it true? He leaned in, fixating on the screen with bleary eyes.
The screen showed a censored crime scene picture, caution tape strung up around a bathroom and a sheet covering something bloody on the floor. Gamemaker assassinations were common, but not for the last few years. They almost never aired them on TV, either, usually preferring to do things stealthily. He supposed that this was a different situation, though. For a second, the tv turned to static, causing him to grunt and hit the top of the device with his palm. When the issue wasn't immediately rectified, he sighed, then turned back to the papers on his desk.
Filled with data and numbers, looking at the pages made his head hurt. The image of the crime scene swam behind his eyes. It was nice knowing that the capitol couldn't escape the violence of the games, but he was unsure of how they couldn't identify the culprit with their advanced technology. Wasn't the capitol supposed to be so much more technologically proficient than the districts?
It was odd, but he didn't exactly have time to dwell on it. Looking back at the papers, he glanced at the clock and nearly jumped. How had it gotten so late? Had he been sleeping for that long?
It was almost 7:00, meaning that he'd been out for a good two hours or so. Normally, he wouldn't be super concerned, but today was different. He actually had somewhere to be, and missing his appointment meant bad things. Hastily, he stood up, trying to shuffle the papers together into some semblance of a pile. He grabbed the bag that was slung over the back of his chair, going to turn off the television before taking one last look around the room.
Tomorrow was his day off, and he didn't want to forget anything. After making sure he had all his personal belongings, he sped out of the room, turning off the lights behind him before zooming into the hallway. He passed several other identical doors to the one that he'd just closed, then made a sharp right turn.
Foil Ivernos wasn't often late to things. He prided himself on being punctual, and sleeping on the job was something he almost never did. He hadn't been able to sleep the night before, and while he'd been working, he must have drifted off. It was a good thing that no one had checked on him. If they had, he would have been in serious trouble.
As he walked down the hallway and up a flight of stairs as fast as he possibly could, he checked his watch, noting that it was only five minutes to seven. He was going to have to run if he wanted to make it there in time. Mnemosyne would be pissed if he wasn't there, and she was the person he was most worried about disappointing. As he exited the building, he broke into a sprint, the justice building in sight down the road.
Panting heavily, he didn't stop to notice the other residents of the district's main city watching him run, some of them stopping in their tracks to point at him to their friends.
Once he made it to the front of the justice building, he took a moment to compose himself, patting down his wild blonde hair and checking his shirt for wrinkles. His face was bright red, but there wasn't much he could do to fix that. After a deep breath, he opened the door to the building, nodding at the peacekeepers that guarded the entrance. They nodded back, as this was a weekly occurrence and they were accustomed to seeing him. He could have sworn one of them was smiling under their mask, but he didn't have time to look closely as he entered the marble building.
At the front desk, the secretary peered up over her screen as she frowned, looking at the time before giving him a quizzical look. Foil gave a bashful smile, watching as the clock just hit seven, and prayed that this counted as being on time. Luckily, the secretary gave him a nod of the head, gesturing towards one of the small meeting rooms that were connected to the main lobby.
Foil walked in, opening the door and taking his seat on one of the wooden chairs, putting his bag on the ground next to him. The computer was still loading, meaning that he wasn't late and still had some time before his appointment started. Thank goodness. He sat up straight in his chair, trying to control his hair again, knowing that he was already on camera.
His appointments had started several years ago, after he'd been selected for the program. Mnemosyne always looked the same, even back then, what with her dark complexion and neatly coiffed hair. Every week, he would go to the justice building, sitting down in the small room in front of the screen, answering her questions and telling her about his week. She'd take detailed notes as he did so, always nodding and prompting him to tell her more. At the end of the session, the woman would always thank him for his time, writing something down in her notebook. He knew that the program's purpose was to observe the life of those in the districts, but he was never sure what she was writing.
All he knew was that he had to be completely honest, and tell her about how he felt.
Every single appointment had been the same. She always appeared on the screen, asked her questions, took her notes, and then it was over. He'd leave the justice building, go home, and wouldn't think twice about the appointment. It was always the same. In fact, when the screen turned on, he was prepared to see Mnemosyne.
He stopped fixing his hair, glanced around the room, and waited as the connection slowly began to work. Technology in district five was mainly reserved for the power plants, so the connection from the capitol always took a few minutes to load.
The screen flickered to life. To his surprise, it wasn't Mnemosyne on the screen before him. It was a young man, a few years older than he was, his long teal hair cascading over his shoulders and twisting into two little horns made of hair near the sides of the top of his head. At first glance, he seemed mostly normal for a Capitol person, but as he blinked his eyes, his bright orange irises became visible. He didn't wear makeup, at least not the same type of caked-on artistry that most capitol residents preferred. His black uniform, similar to the one Mnemosyne typically wore, sat tightly on his shoulders and went up to his neck.
Foil's mouth opened in shock. Who was this? Where was Mnemosyne? Had something happened to her?
"You must be Mr. Ivernos, correct? Nice to meet you. You can call me Ors," said the man, looking down at a clipboard. He held a pen at the ready, writing something down as he spoke. Foil was still in shock, but after a second of gaping, he realized that he probably should answer him. He nodded, and Ors gave him a small smile.
It was a kind smile, unlike the serious expressions that Mnemosyne normally wore, and made Foil feel a little more at ease. Still, his guard was up, and he could feel his hands shaking underneath the table. Dealing with someone else from the capitol was not on his list of things to do today.
"I'm taking over for Ms. Kells. She's been called up to deal with something else, and therefore I'll be conducting your session today. Not to worry, for this is a temporary thing. I'm hoping I can get to know you better over the next two months," continued Ors, tilting his head at the end.
Foil's mind was racing. Next two months? Would Mnemosyne be back after that? What had she been called up to do? He wasn't exactly sure what her job description was, but he hadn't thought that she was someone in a position of importance. After all, she was talking to him on the regular. He wasn't important. It must just be a Capitol thing, he decided. Worrying about it wouldn't yield any answers, most likely.
"Um, right. It's nice to meet you, Ors," he responded, still a little unsure of what was going on. The teal-haired man scribbled on his clipboard again, making Foil feel like he'd done something wrong.
Like usual, the background that Ors sat in front of was a blank white wall, just like the background Mnemosyne always had. His hands continued to shake, but he pressed them together, trying to make them be still. What types of questions would he be asked? If it was the same thing that he normally was asked about, then he already knew what to say. However, it could be different, judging from the fact that Ors probably didn't know anything about him yet.
"Ms. Kells left me her notes, but I'd like to take this into a bit of a different direction," started Ors, shuffling through some papers on his clipboard. "Mr. Ivernos, what do you think of the Hunger Games?" he finished, his piercing eyes staring straight through the screen. Foil barely had time to process the fact that Ors had Mnemosyne's notes before the question was launched at him. He wasn't expecting it at all, and the surprise of the question made him wrinkle his brow in confusion.
The games. This was a dangerous question. He couldn't lie to Ors, but he also couldn't tell him the entire truth, either. If he said anything negative or against the games, he could end up in a bad position.
Why would Ors want to know his opinions on the games, though? It wasn't as though the other man would be trying to get him in trouble. It must just be another question to figure out his psyche, to figure out the inner workings of his mind, just like Mnemosyne used to do. Foil was having trouble processing the conversation, as it was one surprise after another, and he struggled to get the words out of his mouth. He knew that any missteps on his part could be a problem, but he just wasn't sure why he was being put in this position in the first place.
"They scare me," replied Foil, knowing this was about as much as he could say. It was true, they did scare him. They scared him more than anything else. He still had four more years until he was old enough to no longer put his name in the bowl, and so many chances to end up in the arena. Death scared him, and therefore the games scared him more.
Ors looked at him quizzically, then jotted something down on his clipboard. The teal-haired man wrote for a few seconds, and then looked back up at Foil. He tapped his fingers over the edge of the clipboard, then leaned forward slightly.
"Understood. Let me be real with you for a second. I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm not trying to get you in trouble. I merely want to know your feelings on the subject. I know that this is hard, but let us continue," said Ors, his tone slightly kinder than it had been mere moments before. He sounded professional, but concerned.
To Foil, Ors seemed more human than Mnemosyne had, but was also far more threatening because of it. Foil's hands felt sweaty, having stopped shaking, and he held them firmly in his lap. He just had to think of this as if it were another session. Just another session. Right. He could do this.
"Last games, the victor was Ezekiel Branch, district seven. Your tributes from district five were the first and third to die. Because of this, your district will have to present three tributes, and district seven will only present one. As you know, this was a rule put in place to reward the winning district, and punish the losing one. How does this make you feel?" said Ors, his face a stone mask of no emotion. Foil couldn't read him, nor figure out the true meaning behind his words. At the mention of the rule, he winced, his face contorting.
District five's terrible luck had led them to being the so-called losing district, though all the districts technically lost, even if they had a victor. Every district had their tributes die.
"It- it makes me worry. Three tributes means more of a chance of me being chosen, and more of a chance of my friends being chosen, too. For us, it's a death sentence. District five hasn't won in 22 years, and hasn't been in the final five for almost seven years now. We don't learn enough skills to keep us alive. It's death for us, but not even in a way that matters. We go out in the bloodbath. Our mentors try to help us, but they can't. Hell, the only other district that hasn't won in over twenty years is district six, and even they perform better than we do," stuttered Foil, saying much more than he meant to. The constant poor performance of district five frustrated him, and he knew that it wouldn't improve anytime soon.
He hadn't lost any friends or family to the games yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. They were the opposite of the career districts. They were the district of failures. Foil didn't pay attention to the sounds of Ors writing more down, grimacing as he stared down at his hands.
Something about this whole encounter bothered him. He obviously didn't trust Ors, but he hadn't trusted Mnemosyne at the beginning, either. At least he'd grown to understand her questions.
"You know your numbers. District Five doesn't do well, that is true. How come you're so acutely aware of your placements in the games? These numbers are common knowledge, but it's rare for someone to remember them," Ors questioned serenely, smiling slightly. His smile wasn't one that was necessarily happy, it was a smile that seemed to invite Foil to say more.
Foil felt like one wrong word could end him, but he couldn't stop. At least this was all stuff that should have been in the notes. Mnemosyne definitely knew about his odd obsession with the games.
"I asked around. Some of the older residents of the city remember their games, and I've paid attention to them as long as I can remember. It's kind of a thing that I do. I've got a bunch of lists at home with information about the games on them. Mnemosyne said that it was fine, that it wasn't hurting anyone. She wouldn't tell me stuff, and I had to ask other people about the numbers I didn't know, but I've learned a lot," he said, somewhat embarrassed.
In truth, he'd had a horrified fascination with the games since he was a child. He never could look away from the screen, the details about every kill ingrained into his mind.
"Interesting. I've been told that you spend a lot of time with Turbine, the district five victor from the 74th games. How would you define the connection between the two of you?" continued Ors. He changed the page on his clipboard. Foil had never really thought about it, but why wasn't Ors using a device to take notes? This question made him almost miss what Ors had asked him. He heard it, however, and it made him involuntarily smile. All thoughts of worry were pushed out of his mind.
He'd first met Turbine when he was a teenager, back when he was still in school.
The older man had come to the school to talk about the games. All of the other students had been bored, not paying attention or trying to ignore him, but Foil had listened intently. After the lecture, he'd gone up to Turbine and asked him questions, much to the man's surprise. After a few more years of seeing him around, Turbine had started talking to Foil whenever they saw each other, needing someone to talk about the games with when no one else wanted to listen. He was a fountain of knowledge, and because he never married, he was lonely and in need of a friend.
"We're friends. He always mentors in the games, and when he comes back from the Capitol, I always help him with whatever chores need to get done around his house and make sure everything is still in working order. I guess most victors probably don't like talking about the games, but he's kind of a unique case. He says that he gets nightmares if he doesn't talk about it," said Foil, shrugging his shoulders.
He wasn't sure how he'd gotten so close with Turbine, but he was happy to have him as a friend. They didn't always talk about the games, either. In fact, most of their conversations were about the happenings around the district.
Taking a look at the clock on the other side of the room, Foil realized that the 45 minutes that the session usually took were almost up. Ors seemed to realize this too, making a few final notes. The bright-eyed capitol citizen gave Foil a smile that seemed mostly genuine, though he couldn't quite tell.
The session had gone by pretty fast, and Foil was still feeling a little uneasy. He was worried that he'd wake up tomorrow morning to a peacekeeper standing over him, but it didn't look like Ors was going to call any law enforcement on him. He hadn't said anything wrong, right? It should be fine.
"Thank you for your time, Foil. You're free to go now," Ors said, putting his clipboard down. Not realizing that this was the first time that the man had called him by his first name, Foil nodded, and the screen flickered, then turned off. Grabbing his bag, he stood up, pushing in his chair and exiting the room. As he passed the secretary, he gave her a wave, then left the building. The sun was already down, the street lights giving off their typical weak glow.
Foil sighed. That had taken a lot out of him, and the next session would probably be worse. He sincerely hoped that Mnemosyne was alright. The woman had never been very emotional, but he could tell that she at least cared a little. That's what he told himself, at any rate. As he gazed up into the night, the few stars visible twinkling overhead, he let his body relax. There was nothing he could do about it now.
I've been doing a lot of work on this fic for the past week or so, and I currently have a backup of three other chapters written. I've made some changes to the rules of the games, such as making the age range 16-22 instead of 18-24, as I thought that this fit better with the story and still allowed me to make the age range a little older. Submissions are still open, and I'll keep them open for a while.
Because I've been working on this so much, I'll probably start posting two chapters a week, if I can manage writing them fast enough. If you need clarification on things in the submission form, or have any questions, feel free to message me! I can also give you a google doc version of the form through discord if you need it. Additionally, I've made the decision to not use one of my own characters as a tribute, meaning that all 24 spots are up for grabs. Thanks for reading!