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Disclaimer:
I do not own Hunger Games.
Author's Notes:
Zevoros: Special thanks to my co-writer, Triage, and additional help from BaptismByeFire and Dorothea Greengrass! Additionally, this story was loosely inspired by CragmiteBlaster.
Penelope's Web
Chapter 1
Reaping what is Sown
Every step taken brought the dark haired girl ever closer to what could well be the headsman's gallery.
As with every other youth marching forward with reluctance, dressed for the event, she wore the best she had, which really wasn't much at all. A black-grey skirt, leggings, and a shirt that stuck to her body closely, outlined with a light shade of blue, and well-worn shoes. It was the only attire she owned that didn't scream vagabond and homeless, which was exactly what she was.
If she got reaped, there was very little she could do to make herself seem good or attractive for the cameras. Maybe they'd be so disgusted they would change their minds and choose someone else from the glass jar? One could hope.
"Breathe in and out, Gadget. It'll be okay," she murmured to herself, but even to her own ears, the statement ran false.
There was nothing she could do to comfort herself here. She'd been paralyzed with fear the moment she entered the line, and the only thing pushing her forward were the girls behind her.
One step forward, one after another, and she got closer and closer to the reaping. She felt scared, and at the same time, resigned.
Gadget curled her hand around the one possession she could bring with her. Or, her only real possession. A microchip about the size of her fingernail. It had been the only thing her dad had ever gifted her.
He'd told her that her mom wanted her to have it. Before he kicked her out.
It wasn't much, she knew. But it was all she had.
Gadget glanced back around the edges of the square. Parents were meandering about and she couldn't see her dad, Zeno.
She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
Even after a year since being banished from her home, she wasn't sure how to feel about her dad and brothers.
She let out a soft sigh and casually studied the throng around her, her mind going a million miles a minute.
One girl and one boy were going to be reaped, and likely never to be seen again.
Two families, or one if they're siblings, would be grieving whilst the rest ate dinner heaving great sighs of relief that their children were spared. Gadget wouldn't be missed if she were reaped, she had no doubt of that. Maybe they'd even celebrate.
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry! Gadget thought angrily at herself, even as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She thought she'd gotten over it.
With the way her luck had been running lately, she figured she had a nine-in-ten chance of getting reaped. Between her dad making her put her name in for tesserae for her brothers and him, her name was already entered eight times.
It wasn't a lot, but that was eight times the chance of getting reaped. Even if she had been phenomenally bad at math, which she wasn't, she knew the odds were slowly rising against her.
And the Hunger Games loved to mockingly wish the odds were in your favor.
Gadget looked off towards the other lines. She scanned them until she found her brothers, Micra and Flux, just as they were admitted into the town square one after another.
Neither of them so much as glanced at her.
She meant nothing to them.
Her stomach curled and twisted uncomfortably.
Don't cry, don't cry.
She reached the table where a bored Capitol worker ordered her to give her hand in a monotone voice, having spoken the same line possibly a few hundred times. The pain was barely noticeable when her finger was pricked and a blood sample taken.
Her bloody thumbprint was laid against the sheet of paper the worker provided to her. From the corner of her eye she saw as her name came up in green text on the handheld device the worker used.
"Next," the worker said in a dry tone.
Anxiously rubbing her arm, Gadget moved forward to the line for her age group amongst girls to await the ceremony.
The temporary stage that was set up for the reaping ceremony was placed before the Hall of Justice. On it were six chairs, a podium and two large glass balls.
She stared at the girl's ball, and the paper slips within. Eight of them had the name Gadget Trevelyan carefully written down.
The large double-doors creaked open, echoing throughout the square.
Out the door came Mayor Archeron, a tall, severe looking man of imposing stature and rich dark brown hair. A short while later, the Capitol escort, Septimius Bound, joined him on stage.
In the chairs along the wall of the building were the only surviving victors from District Three left. Gadget could practically recite their titles word for word.
Grid Croil. Victor of the 4th Hunger Games.
Qwerty Fenton. Victor of the 29th Hunger Games.
Beetee Latier. Victor of the 41st Hunger Games.
Wiress Morse. Victor of the 46th Hunger Games.
The clock struck two, and the mayor stood up to approach the podium. He cleared his throat, and Gadget listened. It was the same story, but the mayor had no choice. The Capitol made it a requirement to remind the districts of their part in the war. A war that was over seventy years ago already.
"From the ashes of what was once known as North America," he began, "rose Panem."
Gadget knew this piece of history well. She'd been listening to it since she was a baby.
"A country born out of necessity, for survival, as disaster after disaster consumed our lands. Droughts, storms, and fires were fast becoming the norm of people's lives, but the worst was the encroaching seas that swallowed up precious ground. Naturally, brutal wars began to be fought over what little sustenance was left to us."
Gadget's lips curled downwards evermore. This history was well known enough, since they were taught about it at school, but hearing about it, and what it led up to made it so much worse.
The mayor looked out at the crowd before him, his expression stern. "The nation of Panem was built on the backs of our forefathers, as a last, desperate mission to restore peace and stability to the warring factions. It was not easy, but it was achieved. A shining Capitol, ringed by thirteen districts. There wasn't just peace, but prosperity, and recovery from the horrors of the ecological disasters."
Here it comes, Gadget thought. This was the part that bothered her the most.
"The districts were essential to the continued success and running of the Capitol, but dissatisfaction grew. Greed and malice sowed dissent and rebellion against the benefactors that protected and fed them. These were the Dark Days."
Gadget noticed with a start that Mayor Archeron was scowling. He seemed as disgusted with the spiel as many of the older folk she had seen around her. Clearly they didn't agree with the opinion stated by the Capitol historians. But he didn't have a choice on the matter, did he?
"All thirteen districts, dissatisfied with their lives and position, began to war with the Capitol. Though it pained them." Gadget heard the scorn in Archeron's voice. "The Capitol obliterated the thirteenth district, and defeated the rest."
Her history teacher went over more vivid details on the defeat of the twelve surviving districts. The mayor glossed over just how horrific it was. Gadget had seen the saved holovid archives. Given what the districts bore witness to every year, they did not bother to hide the gruesome details and imagery of bloodied bodies and gore everywhere.
"The Capitol was merciful," Archeron said, enunciating the word merciful in a strange way. "And once the war was over, established the Treaty of Treason, which gave us new laws to guarantee peace, and as a yearly reminder of the Dark Days which must never be repeated, it gave us...the Hunger Games."
There were murmurings amongst the adults, with more than a few disgruntled faces.
The rules of the Hunger Games were simple, in punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes would be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland.
Over a period of several weeks, the competitors fought to the death. The last tribute standing won.
Children were essentially taken and forced to kill one another whilst all the districts watched. It was the Capitol's way of reminding the districts how totally at their mercy they were. How little chance the districts stood of surviving if ever they rebelled again.
No matter the words fed to the mayors to give to their districts, the core of the message was simple: "We're taking your children to sacrifice for our entertainment. Nothing you do will change it. If you oppose us again, you will be put down once and for all, like District Thirteen."
It was made more humiliating and torturous, the Capitol required the disctricts to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others. The last tribute alive received a life of ease back home, and their district would be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, the Capitol would show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the other districts battled starvation.
"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," the mayor intoned, and Gadget realized she'd zoned out in her thoughts through the last bits of his speech.
He then began to read out the list of District Three victors. In the last seventy-four years, there have been five. Four of which were still alive. Of the four, Beetee had the most easy-going appearance.
Each former victor stood up and nodded solemnly at the audience to polite applause, even a few cheers, before sitting back down again.
With the introductions done, the mayor then introduced the Capitol escort, Septimius Bound, to perform the reaping.
Solemn and grave, Septimius Bound trudged towards the podium and gave the standard, "Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor."
His delivery was akin to a eulogy, and perhaps that was very appropriate, given that two people were very likely never going to return. Septimius had been the escort for District Three since before Gadget had even been born, and apparently he was a bit more enthusiastic back when he started. But after witnessing child after child heading off to their deaths for the last twenty years, it took its toll on his demeanor, almost as if he had witnessed his own children getting killed.
He used to dress more colorfully, too. Now, he mostly wore white and black. Today, his outfit was a white suit with a large bowl-shaped collar that went around his head, concealing most of his face from the nose down. The slacks were black, with a white diagonal slash running along either side of the material.
He tiredly recited how honored he was to be here, to be part of the reaping, and Gadget idly wondered if this was going to be his last time doing this. He certainly sounded like he was quite done with the whole affair.
She took the time to glance around at the people again, Gadget went cold when she saw her dad, Zeno, was focused right on her, his expression hard.
"Before we begin," Septimius continued, "we have a film for you to watch from the Capitol."
Septimius gestured off to the giant screen in the corner of the square, and with his movement, it lit up bright, the seal of the Capitol lighting up the screen.
Music filled the square…and then the great voice of President Snow boomed. "War. Terrible war. Widows. Orphans. A mother's child.
"This is the uprising that rocked our land. Thirteen districts rebelled against the country that fed them. Loved them. Protected them. Brother turned on brother until nothing remained. And then came the peace. Hard-fought, sorely won, a people rose up from the ashes and a new era was born.
"But freedom has a cost.
"When the traitors were defeated, we swore as a nation, we would never know this treason again. And so it was decreed that each year, the various districts of Panem would offer up a tribute. One young man and woman to fight to the death in a pageant of honor, courage, and sacrifice. The lone victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder to our generosity and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past.
"This is how we safeguard our future."
With that, the short film ended. As the screen faded to black, Septimius slumped his shoulders and leaned heavily against the podium. The mayor's face looked like he had swallowed a particularly sour lemon.
President Snow's message was more or less the same as the mayor's speech, albeit slightly more condensed and even more patronizing.
"Wasn't that nice," Septimius muttered under his breath, but as he was leaning on the podium, the microphones caught every word, and the people gathered murmured slightly.
Gadget supposed no one shared any positive sentiment, no matter how much the Capitol demanded they treated this occasion like a celebration.
"And now, for the drawing," Septimius said, turning to the glass jar with the girls' names, he said, "I'm not one to break tradition. I shall start with the girls first."
His hands dug deep into the names, and he grasped a slip of paper.
Please don't be me, please don't be me, please don't be me!
She could feel an invisible wire slip around her neck.
He read out the name, and Zeno Trevelyan nodded his head firmly, seemingly satisfied.
The name on that paper was Gadget Trevelyan.
Ice filled her veins and a breath of air flooded out of Gadget's lungs. She felt like she'd been punched in the stomach.
Few of the girls around her made noises of relief, but Gadget stood paralyzed. She was reaped. She was reaped. She was reaped she was reaped she was reaped-
"Gadget?" Septimius repeated. He looked over the crowd until, finally, his gaze landed on Gadget when the girl behind her nudged her forward. "There you are, dear girl."
But Gadget could barely hear him over the thoughts echoing in her head.
The invisible wire circled her throat like a noose. She couldn't breathe, and someone helpfully pushed her forward. Mechanically, she took steps closer to her doom. Septimius' face was sympathetic and sorrowful, but it wasn't like he could do anything, and Gadget couldn't help but blame him. Why couldn't he have dug deeper? Taken another name?
Her feet got heavier by the second, as she took step after step up the stage, ever closer to Septimius, ever closer to her fate. She was going to die. It was all over. Step, step, step.
Is this what life was like, she wondered. Her life was forever changed. A tear slid down Gadget's cheek and her knees almost buckled under her and she almost collapsed to the floor.
Gadget took a glance back, at what she wasn't sure, but there were two Peacekeepers flanking her on either side. One of them grabbed her by her forearm and led her forward and up the stairs of the stage.
Gadget whimpered as the man's grip dug into her arm until, at last, he let her go.
As she turned around, she got a good look at everyone's faces. On the girls' side, they all had looks of relief, though some had sympathetic looks too, for all the good it did for Gadget.
The boys on the other hand remained quite pensive. They haven't been reaped yet.
"Chin up, dear, as best as you can," Septimius said in a soft whisper when she was right beside him. "The Capitol is watching."
Gadget was too upset to even attempt a token measure of joviality. It was her execution! How could she smile about it?
Sighing, Septimius appeared to give up on trying to coax the girl further. Instead, he said, "Do we have any volunteers?"
Gadget's dead eyes roved the crowd. She hoped beyond hope that someone, anyone, would volunteer to take her place. But she knew the truth. Nobody would want to volunteer for her. She was no one. A Bloodbath tribute destined to die.
She wasn't worth the dirt on their shoes.
Her odds were next to nothing.
Nobody said anything.
The noose tightened.
Septimius nodded solemnly, like he'd expected nothing less.
"Now, for the boys."
Like he did with the girls' jar, he shoved his hand deep, and rifled through the papers and eventually grasped one. Pulling it out, he read out the name with little flair.
"Binary Nemec."
Gadget's heart stopped. Even with her impending doom, the odds just seemed to have it in for her.
A woman screamed in agony. "No!"
Gadget looked out past the barrier of the town square where a woman she vaguely recognized was held back by a Peacekeeper.
"That's my boy!" she wailed.
There was no escape for either of them. Binary was just a year older, but it was still horrid. The entire population of District Three had no hope of any chance of victory. It was a sight better than having two twelve-year-olds getting reaped, but both of them would be facing people as old as eighteen, with greater builds, strength and experiences or knowledge.
Gadget knew well just how poorly she and Binary got along in and outside of school. No, don't think about it, she thought furiously at herself.
"Come on up, young man," Septimius urged encouragingly.
He climbed up the stairs with more surety than she had, and despite his mom's cries, he didn't look back or shed a tear.
Not like her. Not like how she couldn't hide her despair and misery. She just couldn't.
Binary wasn't as tall as Gadget, yet his presence always made her shrink back. He looked much more collected then she did, even if Gadget could see his hands shake in fear.
Everything was being televised right now. The other tributes, especially the Careers, would be studying all the others, for weaknesses, to see which ones they could eliminate first.
Gadget was nothing but weaknesses.
Septimius circled around to Binary's side. "Do we have any volunteers?" he asked again.
"Someone, please!" Binary's mom pleaded loudly. "Someone save my son!"
The square was quiet. There were no takers.
Septimius awkwardly cleared his throat and stood between Gadget and Binary. He declared, "I present your tributes. A hand for them, please."
It might have stirred a suitable response if Septimius himself didn't sound so morose about it.
Still, there was a token of applause, which made Gadget look up in surprise. She guessed it was in thanks for being the one instead of them.
The mayor began to read out the Treaty of Treason, possibly the most dull and inane subject. Yes, everyone knew about it, but the Capitol demanded it of them to have it read out, drilled into the skulls of the districts lest anyone was in danger of forgetting.
He finished the dreary read and motioned between her and Binary. "Tributes, please shake hands."
Binary stared at Gadget. She couldn't meet it, her eyes darted away.
He offered his hand and Gadget hesitated. Septimius made a subtle sound, which prompted her to reach out to Binary's outstretched hand.
When they clasped, Gadget fought to keep the whimpering of pain lodged in her throat as the boy squeezed her hand far harder than he needed to. He gave her a vicious look.
They turned to look ahead as the anthem of Panem played.
She was going into the 74th Hunger Games.
Gadget Trevelyan, the odds have not been in your favor, she thought morosely.
When the doors in front of the Hall of Justice opened, Septimius led them through. To the beginnings of her demise, Gadget knew.
One, two, three, four.
Eyes on her feet, she counted each step she made. It was the only way she could think to calm her beating heart.
Five, six, seven, eight.
"You will have a short time to meet with your family," Septimius informed the teenagers. What he didn't say aloud, but was implied, was, "To say your goodbyes."
Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen.
Binary glanced at Gadget, who knew he was looking at her, but she didn't dare return his gaze. What would she do anyhow? And she felt a twinge of envy for the boy. He had his mom, and his mom obviously loved him.
Which was more than she could say about her own family.
Would they even come to see her?
Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six.
Gadget was conducted into a room by herself. She guessed as a tribute she would be accorded some luxuries. But they all served as a reminder of why she was suddenly getting this special treatment.
Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. Those were the remaining steps counted as she reached the velvet chair nearest to her and she settled into it heavily.
She took a moment to look around her room. She honestly had no eye for it, but she could tell that it was very rich and lavish. There were thick, deep carpets and velvet couches like the one she was sitting in, and there was a cupboard made of polished wood.
She idly ran her hands over the fuzzy material of the chair's armrest. She had an hour to meet with family. But she wasn't holding her breath.
But the door opened and Gadget shot her gaze to it. In seconds, she went white with shock and all air left her lungs. Her dad was here to see her.
This was the closest she had been to him in over a year.
He eyed the couch, then the chair across from Gadget. After some consideration, the man walked over to the chair and sat down, staring grimly at the girl, who squirmed uncomfortably.
The two sat there in tense silence, until finally, Zeno said, "You finally did something right."
Gadget looked up, confused. What had she done ri-oh…
Seeing a dawning realization on her face, Zeno nodded. "You finally got reaped."
Gadget's face fell. Even in this moment, he couldn't bring himself to say something nice?
Was she going to have to listen to him go on with how much he hoped she would die for an hour? She glanced at the door, then lowered her head.
"Y-yes…" she said after a while. "...I got reaped."
Zeno nodded. "It's justice," he said, his voice firm. "You took my wife away from me and my boys. I'm not expecting you to make it past stepping off the pedestal, so don't make any effort. You hear me?"
Gadget blinked, then looked up a little at him, before quickly looking down again. The hatred in his eyes!
She felt her breath hitching as a sob escaped her. She didn't want to, but she couldn't stop it. It still hurt her to no end. Her shoulders trembled and she felt her chest constricting. Her dad wanted her to die, and quickly too. She wondered if she ought to put in any effort or just end her life right then and there.
At that thought, her eyes roamed the room, looking for anything that would do for such a purpose. Even through her tears, she saw nothing of note. She supposed there had been tributes that might have tried escaping such a fate similarly.
Would the pain of death be worth it, she wondered?
She nearly missed hearing Zeno say, "...a lot riding on your time of death."
That made her turn her head sharply, and her dad must have realized he'd said that out loud, because he pursed his lips and glared at her.
"Your mommy would've been so disappointed in you," Zeno said cuttingly.
Gadget knew her mom would be. Her dad had told her often enough. He used to lord it over her. To remind her that she was nothing, and would forever be nothing.
Zeno let out a sigh. "One less burden to bear," he said calmly and Gadget didn't know if the words were meant for her to hear. Her choking sobs had already filled the small room.
And what was there for her to do but to try - and fail - to stop crying? She didn't want to anger her dad any more than she already had.
"You're a waste and hopeless," he said, "and for reasons beyond me, Syncis wishes to speak with you."
Zeno glared at her for a moment before he pushed himself off the chair reluctantly. But Gadget knew it wasn't because he was reluctant to leave her. He just liked the chair, probably.
"I'll be watching," he growled, but Gadget couldn't hear him anymore as she continued to cry. He strolled out of the room, as if he hadn't just all-but-ordered his daughter to die quickly.
And then she was alone in the empty room. The only sound to accompany her were her own soft sobs and sniffles. She was completely, utterly, alone.
Just like she always was.
Gadget curled herself inwardly. A niggling thought whispered in mind just how much she deserved this. That deep down, she wanted this. Because otherwise she didn't have the courage to do what needed to be done.
She wasn't brave enough. It would hurt too much, she feared. But this was what she deserved.
I wanted this, a thought said that was instantly crushed. No, no she didn't want this. She didn't want to die.
Don't I?
Gadget tucked her forehead into her knees. The agony of her dad's words were getting too hard to beat. They rang in her ears. Yells of her worthlessness. How useless she was. How much of a disgrace she was.
The door at the other end of the room clicked open and Gadget's sad eyes looked up at it.
Just like Zeno promised, Syncis had come to see her. She rubbed at the tears with her arm and she could feel her sleeve dampen.
Syncis watched her for a moment before averting his look. He awkwardly palmed his hands together even as he took small, slow steps towards her. Like he was afraid of startling a small animal.
"So," he started, his face uncertain. "Reaped at twelve…not great."
Gadget blinked and shook her head. "I'm th-thirteen…"
"Oh…" Syncis hummed. He rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry."
Gadget dropped her feet to the floor. What did she expect? She wiped at her tears again and her heart constricted in pain.
"Where's Micra? And Flux?" Gadget asked, although she already knew the answer. They didn't care enough about her to see her.
A thought entered her mind.
Was a life of pain worth living at all?
Syncis didn't say anything for a second. Gadget figured he was pondering how to answer her question as he sat down in the chair her dad had vacated shortly before.
"They…" Syncis cleared his throat. "...they didn't want to come."
It was expected. Gadget knew they wouldn't. She was nothing to them. And yet the stabbing in her heart still hurt.
"Listen," Syncis said after a while, "just keep your head when you're out there, okay?"
Gadget looked up at him in confusion.
"You've seen the Games." It was a statement. Not a question. One that Gadget still nodded to. "You've seen what happens in the Bloodbath."
It was impossible not to. She nodded again, more slowly this time.
"Well, you know…" Syncis fumbled over his words. "Maybe be careful and keep away from the worst of it when the sparks fly."
Syncis glanced up from his lap, his eyes meeting Gadget's.
"There's no shame in running." He gave a small smile. "And I know you can run pretty fast."
He…noticed her? How? And when? Why was…why was Syncis advising her? Really advising her?
Her heart felt a little lighter.
But only just.
"And the Capitol's always watching from here on," he added unhelpfully, though his tone was sincere. Gadget suspected he knew she already knew that, but was filling in the void with as many helpful words he could throw out.
"Y-yes, Syncis," Gadget replied. "I'll…I'll remember. And…thank you."
Syncis blinked, seemingly surprised, then smiled feebly. "Glad I can do something."
Gadget formed the words she so badly wanted to ask in her mouth. But she couldn't ask. She didn't deserve an answer.
"What is it?" Syncis prompted.
Gadget rubbed her arm. She didn't have the right to ask. It was a pointless question that would just take unnecessary time away.
"Gadget?" Syncis asked.
But maybe it wouldn't hurt to ask. The worst that could happen was she would be berated, and…maybe she could live with that.
She didn't have long to live, anyway.
Gadget looked at her shoes. "I…" she trailed off. She started again, "...why are you helping me?"
Syncis looked floored by the question and Gadget braced herself.
"You're…you're still my sister and I don't want you to die."
He looked like he wanted to say more, but hesitated to do so.
It was Gadget's turn to prompt him. "What is it?"
"I…just realized this might be the most we've said to each other," he admitted lamely.
Her face fell as she realized that he was right. It only took her getting reaped to have a conversation with her eldest brother.
And still yet, there was someone who wanted her to come home. Her brother cared about her. He was willing to talk to her.
It staved off her desire to end things right then and there.
"There's a chance, you know," Syncis said. "Slim, but a chance all the same. You could make it."
"Really?" Gadget asked, desperate for the tiniest gift of hope.
Syncis' smile was tight, but he sounded sincere when he said, "Yes."
He glanced at the clock in the corner of the room and stood up. He hovered, then awkwardly pat Gadget's hand.
"Do your best," Syncis told her and turned to shuffle out of the room.
Gadget glanced up at him as he left. He was nearly at the door before she called out, "Syncis!"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks…"
He smiled, and nodded. Then he was gone. The door locked.
A smile on Gadget's lips, one she didn't realize she had, slowly faded. The only company with her was the sound of a ticking clock.
She lay back in the chair and closed her eyes. As much as she wished this was a nightmare she would wake up from…she knew that wasn't true.
The creaking hinges of the door was enough to make her shoot her eyes wide open. Was it time to go already?
But no. She had another visitor. The last person she'd expected to see walk into the room.
Binary's mom.
"M-Mrs. Nemec?" Gadget stammered.
The woman's eyes were frantic, almost insane. She nodded quickly, as if seeking something to do. Anything. Including talking to the district's other tribute, who, by all accounts, was a potential rival.
Unity wasn't the most easily bred thing in Panem. Gadget could speak from experience.
They stood there, standing and staring at one another.
What did she want?
"Please…" Mrs. Nemec said, "...please help protect him."
Gadget gaped. "I-"
Mrs. Nemec clasped Gadget's hands. "I know I can't ask this, but I'm asking anyway, please, please, please, help him…work together, both of you. Can you do that?"
Gadget's mouth opened and closed several times as her breath hitched. What should she say?
After some time, when the woman's face became more frantic, Gadget let out a strangled, "'kay."
But Mrs. Nemec clung to the response like a gift of food and gold, "Thank you. Thank you so much!"
The Peacekeeper eventually came in to remove the woman, who continually thanked Gadget even as she was led away.
Sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine, seventy.
"This way, everyone," Septimius said, "we're going to the Capitol."
Though he was addressing everybody, they were all aware only Gadget and Binary would need any kind of guidance for wherever they were heading, since all the victors, Peacekeepers and Septimius had done this often enough. Some more than others.
Gadget's eyes roved over the rich material used to build the station.
The pillars were white marble, with gold-inlaid columns. The floor was orderly and neatly tiled marble, with a painted ceiling depicting the Capitol with lights shining outward over the land. Concealed lamps brightened the station throughout, only serving to emphasize the mural in the ceiling and its seeming light.
The sheer amount of wealth involved just for the station made her wonder how much more wealthy the actual Capitol itself might look.
It seemed quite gaudy, but Gadget wasn't much for art.
But it did serve to show just how much the Capitol seemed to enjoy tormenting the Districts, who were mostly starving. Maybe not the Careers, or maybe they were too. She had no idea.
A Peacekeeper stood guard between each pillar as they passed. Why did they need so many of them? Did tributes try to run away in the past?
Gadget shook her head furiously. Of course someone tried to run away. It was the Hunger Games and…
And now she was heading into the 74th Hunger Games…
Eighty-three, eighty-four, eighty-five, eighty-six.
Welcome to the first day of the end of your life, Gadget, she thought gloomily to herself.
The station was swarming with reporters from the Capitol. Their cameras followed her and Binary's every move.
No, she wasn't heading into the 74th Hunger Games.
She was already there.
Gadget caught a glimpse of a television on the wall that was recording everything live. Sending their movement for the entire country to watch. And they would determine how likely the sad looking girl from Three would die.
Ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three.
Maybe, she hoped, the other tributes wouldn't bother her. She already looked pathetic enough, maybe they would leave her alone. Maybe maybe.
But there was no maybe in the Hunger Games. Everyone is a threat, one way or another. Gadget knew that. It's just a matter of how big a threat they are.
"Try to stop looking so pathetic," Binary said under his breath and Gadget glanced at him. His face was the epitome of neutral. "You'll lose us sponsors."
Oh. Because of course that was his only concern.
One hundred two, one hundred three, one hundred four, one hundred five.
Gadget looked back at the television on the wall and for the first time, she took in the image of what she looked like since she'd been reaped. A haggard, tall, scrawny girl with unkempt messy brown hair, and deep bags under her eyes was glancing around on the screen.
She minutely straightened her back. Don't look pathetic, don't look pathetic, she told herself.
Gadget's stomach gurgled loudly, enough that Grid glanced back at her, as did a Peacekeeper, and the girl wished she had a collar like Septimius' so she could hide her head in it.
She wrapped her arms around her middle. When was the last time she had a proper meal? Before her dad kicked her out?
One hundred twelve, one hundred thirteen, one hundred fourteen, one hundred fifteen.
Would they bother feeding them? Of course they would...she'd seen previous Games, and the tributes had several days before they were thrown to the death match. There were feasts they'd attend. But it was a sobering reminder that they were enjoying all this lavish treatment because they would soon die, and only one out of twenty-four people were going to come out alive.
Septimius led them through an open set of doors and the sleek, steel Capitol train came into view. Gadget would've marveled at the massive piece of technology if its mere presence didn't fill her with dread.
But her footsteps didn't falter. They couldn't falter. All eyes on her and Binary.
The Capitol is watching.
And so were the other tributes. She didn't know much about the other districts, but even she knew the Careers were the ones to look out for. They trained their whole lives for it. From them came the most volunteers and victors.
The train was a marvel of technology. The carriages were modular and could be easily modified or reconfigured for a multitude of uses. The entire train looked like it was made of finely polished chrome, that it was like looking at a mirror. Gold accents ran along the edges, joining with more gold filigree to complete its rich appearance.
The train for District Three had ten carriages, two were engines attached to the front and back. There was the escort's carriage, then the crew carriage with eight cabins, each having multiple bunks to save space.
Gadget had a good idea on how the people were accommodated within the crew carriage. The first two cabins were dedicated to the six or so crew, which were the drivers, the engineers and technicians. Four cabins were for the small army of Peacekeepers that were joining them on board. The last two cabins were for the Avoxes. Those who had screwed the Capitol in some way, had their tongues cut off, and were made to be slaves.
As Gadget trudged towards the train, she could see some of the Avoxes feverishly working in the kitchen carriage. One or two bustled about the lounge carriage or dining carriages.
There were two passenger carriages with four cabins each. One was for the victors, and one was for Gadget and Binary. Those were situated toward the front past the lounge, dining, kitchen and cargo carriages. They entered through the lounge carriage, and as soon as they were all inside, the doors shut, and the train sped off.
Nobody kept the Capitol's masses waiting for the latest meat for the grinder.
Gadget took the time to study the interior. It was just as generous in its wealthy features as the exterior, with deep reddish brown wooden furniture, velvet cushion chairs, with deep red, earthen brown or gunmetal grey colors. She had thought the waiting room in the Hall of Justice was lavish, but it had nothing on her current surroundings.
"Perhaps you'd like to have something to eat, my dear?" Septimius quietly whispered to the tall girl, who jumped in fright. She was glad that there were no cameras here to see that dramatic reaction.
Binary looked at her, shook his head and rolled his eyes as he walked towards the dining carriage.
Nodding meekly at Septimius, she trailed the male tribute whilst the victors settled themselves in the lounge room, beginning to talk to each other. Before she left, she turned to look at the victors, and noticed Beetee watching her with mild interest. Blushing, Gadget quickly left the carriage and froze when she saw the tables laden with all kinds of food.
Almost everything she saw had only ever been seen previously on holovids during the Games and the feasts that tributes attended. Her stomach growled so loudly, it was practically a roar.
This time, everyone turned to look at her, but she didn't care.
As she took faltered steps towards the table, she barely heard Binary's soft, "You've managed to look more pitiful than usual."
One of the Avoxes darted forward to offer a plate to Gadget, and it was a testament to how mesmerized she was by the food that she didn't flinch at the man's proximity and abrupt movement. Numbly moving her hand to accept the offered plate, Gadget stretched an arm to grasp a large chicken drumstick.
"I suppose we can have supper early, and freshen up after," Septimius said, eyeing the girl, and she only noticed because she'd just glanced up at him right then, before she returned to filling her plate.
The other victors voiced agreement, all also watching the tall girl with a mixture of concern and interest.
She was piling her food more and more until it was taking on a decidedly mountainous shape, before a beefy dark hand gently rested on her right wrist, making the girl gasp and nearly drop her heavy plate.
"Take it easy, there, sweetie," Beetee said in a calm voice. "It's not going to go anywhere."
With gentle coaxing, he guided her with what she had on her plate towards the large rectangular dining table. It was big enough to fit everyone present and more besides, but the Avoxes stood at attendance by the doors, with a few Peacekeepers.
Everyone had filled their plates from the buffet table, but everyone else, including Binary, had taken a far more controlled amount.
"I can understand your eagerness to eat as much as you can," Beetee added, "but you eat like that, and you're going to make yourself sick. Your stomach won't be able to handle anything as rich as everything you've got on that plate."
He settled at the table and made Gadget sit beside him. Leaning his elbow heavily on the table, he watched her for a moment. "You haven't really had a chance to eat much all this time, have you?"
Gadget shook her head, but said nothing else, instead, picking up a fork, stabbed a piece of sweetened meat and ate it. After years of bland food, mostly tesserae, which wasn't made for flavor, the sweetness and succulent texture of the meat actually made Gadget swoon, but Beetee caught her arm to keep her from falling out of her chair.
Wiress laughed lightly at Gadget's reaction, whilst Grid and Qwerty gave knowing smiles, but all the same, Gadget blushed furiously for making such a fool of herself. This was probably going to make them focus on obtaining sponsors for Binary, who was pointedly ignoring her and just enjoying his food.
"Take it slow, and you'll be okay," Beetee advised.
Why is he being so nice to me?
Gadget was not used to it, and she asked, "Aren't you going to eat?"
"Don't worry about me," he replied, "try the cheese."
He gestured to a yellowish cube that had holes all over it, and she obediently ate it.
For nearly fifteen minutes, he cautioned or slowed her as she went through various items on her plate, and she leaned back after a while, feeling slightly queasy.
"Best take her to the doctor, Beetee," Septimius suggested, "as you said, this much rich food after so long will take its toll on her."
"Quite right," Beetee agreed. "Come."
Weakly, she rose up and slowly marched towards the next carriage, where she was shown the cabin she'd be staying in, but they didn't go in just yet. Instead, the next cabin was where the doctor and a nurse were waiting.
"What took you so long?" the elderly man demanded. "We've been here for the last half hour, we were about to come out."
"This young one here was eager to try out the food," Beetee explained, "we decided to dine a little earlier."
"Well, you're a tall one, aren't you?" the doctor said, eyeing Gadget critically. "Runs in the family?"
"Y-yes, sir," Gadget stammered.
Nodding, the doctor added, "That might work out well for you. Thank you, Beetee."
"Of course, doctor."
He left without another word, and the silent nurse guided Gadget to an adjustable chair. For the next ten minutes she was thoroughly examined and given some kind of pill to help settle her stomach. She was then dismissed and advised to go to her room to freshen up, and it was only then she noticed the pinched expression on the doctor's face.
Living on the streets meant Gadget seldom had the opportunity to bathe or clean herself. In fact, the only times she could bathe was when it rained, and rains were murderously cold.
Embarrassed, she didn't utter a word as she retreated hastily to her assigned cabin.
She shut the door and, after a moment, turned around to study the interior.
Her eyes widened in shock. The chamber she was in was the bedroom, but there was a door to a separate room that led to what appeared to be a dressing area. There was also a bathroom with hot and cold running water! A holovid projector dominated the top of a drawer, and there were more drawers with a wide variety of fine clothing. There was an intercom by the door, though she didn't bother with that for now.
This one room was richer than anything she'd ever seen so far, and was possibly larger than the house she lived in before she'd been kicked out by her dad.
Gadget took her first warm shower in forever, and reveled in the sensations that she'd forgotten all about. She'd taken longer than normal to bathe and cleaned herself up. She hadn't felt clean for so long that the feeling was so utterly foreign to her.
Running her hands over the fabrics of some shirts in one drawer, she eventually picked a pale blue blouse and cream-colored pants. She'd just dressed up when the intercom chimed, and a voice she didn't recognize called for her to come out.
"Your mentors would like a word with you. Lounge carriage," the voice said curtly.
And just like that, at the snap of her fingers, reality came crawling back in. This wasn't a gift. This wasn't paradise. This was her doom. The train that, with every passing second, took her closer and closer to her death.
A gilded cage.
She...she-
Images flew in her mind's eye of the dead tributes of District Three. How they didn't usually get far because they were targeted by the Careers. Because their smarts made them dangerous.
A boy with a bludgeoned skull. A girl with her head torn from her shoulders. A boy speared through the throat. A girl left to bleed out, taunted with medicine that would never come.
Gadget swallowed and braced herself against the doorframe. She let out a heaving breath once, twice, thrice before she straightened herself again and opened the door.
She stepped into the hallway and began her walk to the dining carriage. Eyes on her feet.
One, two, three, four.
Would they even bother to mentor her? She knew what she was. A waste of space. Doomed to death the moment her name was drawn from the bowl.
She could feel bile rising in her throat. She was going to die. She was going to die.
Five, six, seven, eight.
Gadget heaved a breath. She put a hand against the wall to help keep her balance. She felt the indents of the wall beneath her fingers. She swallowed again, the vomit in her throat sinking back to her stomach.
There was no use in worrying about what could've happened now, was there? She was in the Games. She was...another number for the Careers' body count.
Nine, ten, eleven, twelve.
A fate sealed as soon as her name was in Septimius' hand. More images flew past her mind of what fate that would be.
Maybe...maybe she could...
The bile came crawling back up her throat.
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen-oh, who cares!?
Gadget doubled over and retched. It was too much. It was too much.
The grandiose meal she'd eaten was painted over the pristine wall and floor of the train but there was no point in caring.
A Peacekeeper made a soft noise, causing her to look up at him. Ice filled her veins.
Please no, please no. It was an accident…
The Peacekeeper said nothing and he tilted his head ever so slightly to the right, wordlessly telling her where to go.
Gadget sighed and nodded in thanks and the man nodded back, then returned to attention.
An Avox perked up when she approached, and opened the door leading to the lounge.
Inside, all four victors were reclining on sofas, either talking to each other, or to Binary.
"Ah, our other tribute," Grid said. "Come, dear. We have some important things to share."
He beckoned her closer, and Gadget tottered forward, visibly terrified, which the elderly victor clearly noted by the hard glint in his eyes. It was a bit reminiscent of the way her dad looked at her sometimes, and she had to fight down the urge to utter repeated apologies.
Qwerty, the second oldest victor, had a somewhat similar look in her eyes, and immediately turned to glance at Binary, causing Gadget to look at him too. He had a cool gaze and even expression. He gave the barest of smiles at Qwerty when the woman sized him up, and nodded. Clearly, she liked what she saw in Binary.
Beetee and Wiress smiled kindly at Gadget, looking far more forgiving and welcoming than the two older victors, and it made her feel just a bit better and more hopeful...as much as she could feel when every moment she was on this train in its forward motion reminded her that she was getting closer and closer to her demise.
"Mr. Nemec. Ms. Trevelyan." Grid scratched at something behind his ear and sat down on the sofa opposite Binary.
Gadget took halted steps forward until she sat down as far away on the couch from Binary as she could manage. The fact he regarded her a second longer then he needed to told her this act had not gone unnoticed by him.
The thrumming of the train made Gadget want to relax, but there was a difference between what she wanted and what was reality. What she wanted was to be home in District Three. But reality was very clearly against her.
Qwerty took a sip of what looked like water to Gadget, but knowing the Capitol, it really could've been anything. Qwerty looked over the brim at Gadget, and then to Grid.
"Tell us," Grid continued after silently eyeing Gadget and Binary up. "What are your strengths?"
Gadget's fingers curled into the soft cushions of the sofa. "Strengths…" she repeated aloud.
"That's right." Grid thumbed at his upper lip. "So that we know how we can help you. And you can play to your strengths."
Beetee broke in with a soft query. "Why don't you start us off, Gadget?"
The girl grimaced...was it too much to ask that they started alphabetically?
And yet, the words of her brother rang in her ears.
"I can...I can run fast...?" Gadget trailed off as if she was questioning herself at that very moment.
Binary looked at her slowly and raised an eyebrow. Gadget flushed. Her fingers dug deeper into the couch cushions. She wanted to sink into the sofa and disappear forever.
"Running is good," Wiress said quietly.
"Running is all well and good," Qwerty added. "But no one can run forever.
Gadget's stomach sank. What good was she when even her own mentors decided she was worthless?
"Maybe not," Beetee said. His eyes glanced at Gadget from beneath his spectacles. "But it's a good start."
Gadget looked at the floor and brought her knees up to her chest. She let go of the couch cushions and wrapped her arms around her legs.
At least Beetee is taking pity on me, Gadget thought as he seemed to ponder her.
Finally, Beetee asked, "What else can you do?"
"I...I…" Gadget studied her suddenly interlaced fingers, "...I can build things."
That got everyone's attention.
"Do elaborate, Ms. Trevelyan," Grid said, but it was clearly an order.
"I can make a…spear…" Gadget trailed off like she was unsure of herself.
Grid looked unphased and Qwerty stared. "Well?" she asked sharply and Gadget nearly recoiled. "Can you?"
Gadget awkwardly palmed her hands. She figured they could tell she was a lost cause. "Y-yes," she stuttered out, her stomach flip-flopping.
Seeming to notice the girl's tremendous unease, Beetee helped her along by asking, "Besides a spear, would you know what to do if you were dropped into a desert with only minimal wood, rocks and the odd metal or so?"
Gadget thought about it, and nodded. "I can make false flares with that."
She answered this without hesitation, choosing to focus on Beetee alone, who was the only person not giving her a hard and calculating look. Him and Wiress.
"And…I can…I can build machines," she said, slowly becoming more confident with each word.
There was a light in Beetee's eye. "That's good," he said. "We can use that." Beetee drew a finger to his glasses. "Traps, perhaps," he said with a gesture to Qwerty.
But Qwerty didn't seem as enthused. "That depends on what kind of materials she can get." She looked at Gadget. "If you can get any materials at all."
Gadget sunk into the couch but Beetee just hummed in thought. They were gambling with her life and she didn't know if they cared. But…who would care about someone like her?
"If you can build something to amaze the audience," Wiress spoke up quietly, "then sponsors will want to see something even more amazing."
Beetee nodded. "All it takes is one thing to build a base."
Gadget rubbed at her arm. "One thing?" she asked.
Beetee leaned almost imperceptibly forward. "Intrigue," he said.
Gadget blinked. "Intrigue?" she repeated. She didn't understand, but then, how could she understand the minds of the Capitol people? They send people to death and treat it as a game.
"The Games are meant to put the districts in their place," Beetee said. "But to the Capitol, they entertain. And if Seneca Crane is anything, it's an entertainer."
Seneca Crane. That's the name of the man who would be overseeing her demise, Gadget thought. She hadn't given the Gamemakers much thought but…she hadn't realized she had to. That she should.
Because it wasn't just the tributes that would try to kill her. It wasn't just the Careers. It was the Gamemakers, too. And they would kill her without hesitation if she so much as said the wrong thing or wasn't seen as interesting enough to the Capitol.
"In one of the earlier Games," Grid started, "the 16th, actually." He let out a low chuckle. "It had been…interesting, to say the least."
Gadget felt like she should know this, but then, she'd tried to get away with watching as little of the Hunger Games as she could when she was younger.
"W-what happened?" Gadget cautiously asked.
Grid's lips curled up like he approved of her question. "The arena that year was a desert. Completely barren. Most of the tributes that year died to the elements rather than each other."
"Oh…" was all Gadget could say. Something about this sounded familiar. The older Games weren't talked about almost ever, but they were watched. Or, they were watched as far back as they could go. Either for school projects or mere curiosity or anything in between.
Grid let out a breath and sagged a bit to the side in his seat. "Our esteemed Head Gamemaker retired after that."
Gadget's heart thumped. Retire. She knew what that meant. A nice, kind word to say in place of being fed into the proverbial woodchipper.
"Irregardless," Grid said, "that year was boring. Not entertaining. Since then, the Capitol made sure every year thereafter would never be boring again." Grid looked at Gadget, his gaze roaming over her face like he was looking for something.
Whatever he was looking for, Gadget was confident that he wouldn't find it. Distantly, she wondered why they bothered with her at all. Surely they knew just how futile it was? Just how…useless she was.
Binary looked very much like he wanted to say something, probably just how useless she really was. But he clearly restrained himself. Why would he-oh, yes, of course. The victors. Wouldn't want to make them see him in a bad light. It's all about showmanship, now.
That included her. As Grid said, it was all about the entertainment value. They'd never let it be just the Gamemakers killing the tributes. Otherwise, it'd be a case of the Capitol killing the district folk, and they wouldn't want that. It might make the citizens of the Capitol begin to feel sympathetic towards the districts. But there was no saying they wouldn't push them into each other...like Gadget getting thrown at a Career.
"If you can tell us what strengths you have," Beetee said, "even the smallest thing, we can try to play on it, emphasize it."
"Our job is to help make life as easy as possible for you," Wiress added, "through sponsors."
"And for that to happen, you need to impress them," Qwerty said, "and entertain."
Gadget nodded at all the information, and she started chanting in her head, reminding herself to do her best, and be the best. And that started from right here, with the victors.
"So tell us, Ms. Trevelyan." Grid tapped the table and Gadget looked at him. His face was impossibly neutral. "Something that makes you interesting." It wasn't a question, Gadget noticed.
For a moment, Gadget seemed frozen, but Beetee saw something in the girl's face that made him raise both his eyebrows. "What is it?" he prompted.
"I build machines," Gadget repeated, but didn't wait for more questions or inquiries.
There's still a chance.
Gadget stood up and looked around her surroundings for a moment and nodded to herself. "Does...does anyone have...paper and a...pen, o-or pencil?" she asked.
An Avox was by her side, seemingly appearing almost out of thin air, and Gadget squeaked in surprise. The Avox stared at her and offered the things she'd asked for.
Gadget hesitated for only a second before she took the proffered materials.
The Avox turned away but Gadget caught a glimpse of her eyes. Eyes that were just as dead as Gadget's. What did they do to them? She knew that according to history, the Capitol punished deserters, rebels and those deemed traitors to the Capitol to be slaves for the remainder of their lives.
Nobody deserved to be treated as a slave. But there was no helping the Avoxes. Their fates were sealed. Just like hers. Yet she couldn't help but wonder what the Capitol deemed this woman's crime to be worthy of being sentenced to slavery forever was. She might have strayed too near a perimeter fence and a Peacekeeper who had it in for her decided she was therefore a traitor.
Glumly, Gadget sat down once more and began her swift and frantic movements over the paper. Her body hunched over the page, and her left arm covering it, nobody knew what she was doing. She didn't want them to see. Not yet.
It didn't take more than a minute or two. It was a very rough drawing, but it got the point she'd wanted to make across. And when she stopped and lifted the paper to show to everyone, even Binary's eyebrow rose.
"I can make this, an-and...maybe, w-with enough time, some other...things. With everything I can see in here."
Grid eyed her with a curious gleam now, but he was still unimpressed. He said, "But you won't have nearly this much resources, most likely. What would you do then, if it's not even sticks and stones, but just...sand, and sparse wood?"
"I can make s-something!" was Gadget's meek reply. Anything she might have added trailed off when she looked down at her shoes. The pencil in her hand slid between her fingers with practiced ease, almost second nature to her.
She forced herself to stop her movements. She held the pencil aloft and she could feel eyes burning into her.
"That." Grid pointed at her. "You were doing so well, until you stalled. You can't show that kind of weakness in front of the Capitol." Grid brought his hand to his chin and scrutinized Gadget.
"And the Careers, well…" Qwerty added. "...they'll eat you alive."
Gadget wasn't sure how to feel now, with Grid and Qwerty's intense stares and critical words. Binary took the moment to hum in thought.
That however, served to draw attention away from Gadget and onto him instead. But of course, the boy handled this with his usual aplomb. He didn't flinch or look away, instead he met gaze with even gaze.
"What about you, Mr. Nemec?" Grid asked. "I've seen you around, haven't I?"
"Tell us your strengths," Qwerty said.
Binary's eyes flickered from Grid to Qwerty, and then back again. He reached for a glass of water that an Avox put on the couch side table.
He drank half the cup, and put the glass down, saying, "There are some weapons I know how to use."
Grid continued to look unphased, but Qwerty gave a small nod. Gadget shifted in her seat. Already, she knew that they would like Binary far more than her. Someone who was more likely to fight? They would leap for that chance, surely.
"What kind of weapons can you…wield?" Grid asked.
"The basics," Binary answered. "Please don't try to compare that to the Careers," he said with a hint of disgust in his tone.
Qwerty's lip quirked.
"How contradictory," Grid commented but Binary didn't say anything. He just leaned back.
Binary looked at Grid. "Do you have a family?"
This time it was Grid that paused. He blinked at the non-sequitur. Gadget nervously watched the interaction from the side. What was going on?
"Not anymore," Grid said at last.
Binary nodded a fraction. "I can't imagine how difficult it would be to have children and be happy when someone else is reaped, realizing you have to mentor them." Binary let out a breath. "And then fail to bring any of them back home."
Gadget looked down at her shoes. As much as she hesitated to say it, Binary was a genius. He wouldn't say these kinds of things without a reason. But…that never stopped him before.
Grid swallowed uncomfortably and Qwerty started to tap her foot in what seemed like agitation.
"What are your strengths?" Grid asked again.
"You're not a victor," Binary said flatly. "You're an old, washed out man who clings to relevancy."
"Interesting observation from a fourteen-year-old boy who's never held any actual weapon," Grid said in an even tone, but Gadget detected steel in it. "But you have made your point, and I will respect your wishes."
He turned a stern gaze on Binary, and then at Gadget, who managed not to quail, and earned a small nod. He rose smoothly to his feet and marched out, heading for the victor's carriage.
"Well, I suppose it'll be down to just the three of us to help you with sponsors," Qwerty said, and glared at Binary. "Congratulations, boy, you've just made things harder for yourself."
Binary simply pursed his lips, still looking at the door where Grid had exited. Was he planning to apologize?
Making a soft noise to attract Binary's attention, Qwerty spoke again only when he looked at her, "Best let me know now if you're planning to try the same tactic with me, and I won't waste my time with you."
"Your alternative is to put everything on her," Binary nodded his head at Gadget.
The tall girl immediately lowered her gaze, not wanting to see Qwerty's own stare.
"Yes, I suppose you have a point. Beetee? You want to make an effort?" Qwerty asked.
"I think I will, yes." was Beetee's reply.
Gadget looked up at him in surprise.
And for the first time in what felt like ages, Gadget allowed herself to hope.
"That wasn't hard," Binary spoke up. He leaned back in his seat. "A challenge but…not hard."
Qwerty rapped her fingers along her armrest. "You did that on purpose, then?" she said. It sounded like she already knew that.
Binary didn't look perturbed. Gadget knew she was. One of their mentors had refused to help them in any way and…
"And he proved me right. He wiped his hands clean of us." He looked across the sofa at Gadget, and then back at Qwerty. "Kind of like how he wiped his hands clean of Widget."
The sound of glass shattering filled the compartment. Wiress mumbled apologies as the same Avox from earlier approached to clean up her mess.
Binary darted his eyes away from Wiress to Qwerty. "May she rest in peace."
Gadget could see the muscles in Qwerty's jaw clench and unclench. "What do you know of it? You're not even fifteen."
Binary let out a sigh through his nose and shrugged like the question was unimportant.
When nobody said anything Qwerty began to rise.
Gadget pulled at her fingers uncomfortably. She didn't understand. It almost felt like Binary was intentionally trying to isolate himself.
"Do you know what Grid said when he found Widget's body?" Binary asked and Qwerty stopped mid-step.
She turned slowly to Binary, her eyes searching. A tinge of anger behind them. "What?" she said.
"Do you know what Grid said when he found Widget's body?" Binary repeated.
"I-" Qwerty shook her head, clearly thrown off. "How do you even know that?"
Gadget noticed a very small smile settle on Binary's lips out of the corner of her eye.
"You'd be amazed at the amount of things you can pick up when you really try," Binary said. He didn't elaborate.
Qwerty's teeth grit and she hovered for a moment, like she was deciding on whether to sit down or leave. She sat down.
"What?" Qwerty asked again, only slightly more calm than before.
Binary crossed his legs. Then he said, "'Damn you, Widget. Why did you have to leave me alone with the cannon fodder?'"
Qwerty stared at Binary for some time, before she finally shook her head. "That's some arrogance you have, Nemec. While Grid is old and came from a time when the Games were more crude and simpler, he has done nothing but watch, and learn. No one knows the Games, and more importantly, the Capitol's Gamemakers better than he. You would have benefited a great deal from his experience and tutelage."
Binary just watched Qwerty as she went on, but said nothing, and his face gave away nothing. How on Earth could he look so stoic?
"But you have played your hand, and you'll now have to live…or die...by your choices."
Qwerty looked over at Gadget, saying, "This applies to you too, young lady. From now on, you are the playthings of the Capitol."
Gadget reached up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she considered Qwerty's words. A plaything. A plaything that lived, ate, breathed...for a little while more, anyway.
Beetee must have read her thoughts, because he said placatingly, "Listen to me, Gadget; until you are not breathing anymore, you and Binary have a chance. I want you to do something for me, and that is to not give up. No matter what. Can you do that?"
She saw the firmness in his eyes, and Wiress gave Gadget a subtle nod, whilst Qwerty just studied her in a bored manner.
Qwerty must have seen this so many times already. Gadget didn't know what chance she had, but she found herself nodding and saying, "O-okay. I will."
Beetee smiled at her like she'd given him a gift.
After that, there was a little more conversation about playing to their strengths, and the adults were trying to gauge what Gadget and Binary each had going for them. But it was quickly and silently agreed that Binary and Gadget were going to train individually. There was clearly too much awkwardness and even some enmity between them.
They were soon interrupted by Grid's return, and Septimius slinking in behind him. "It's time," Grid informed them.