I'm back! I'm starting this chapter the day I'm supposed to leave for my cruise, so I don't know precisely whether or not I'll be able to upload today, but I'll try…
(1/5/17)
(1/18/17)
Well, the whole "get it done before or on the cruise" thing failed miserably. Did you know you can't even use a computer on the ship without purchasing internet access? All I want to do is type in a word document – such activity neither warrants nor needs internet access!
Our timely commercial break is over, and now Aradon's face dominates the screen once more. "Ladies and gentlemen," he intones, "welcome back to pre-Games interviews. So far, we've heard from Districts One through Three, and now it is time to hear from the very first representative of the year from District Four, MISTLE LOU!"
The pale, androgynous red-headed female tribute from District Four walks out onstage and we are greeted with a surprise: instead of two green eyes, Mistle has a patch where her right eye should be. I never noticed this before, to the best of my recollection, she always had two green eyes. Is this eyepatch a recent development? It's completely possible, because who knows what happens in the Training Centre, but normally the trainers, Avoxes, guards, and Gamemakers do a fantastic job of making sure there are no injuries.
"Well, Miss Mistle, how are you this fine evening?" Aradon Flickerman inquires cheerfully.
"I'm just fan-tastic today, Aradon. Nothing like a little imminent death to pep the blood... et tu?" Mistle replies with a mischievous tone in her voice and a drag on the word blood. Aradon looks unnerved.
"I'm well, very excited to meet all these fine new tributes, but-"
"What kind of excited, Aradon?" Mistle asks with a suggestive tone in her voice which is only emphasized by her black, long-sleeved bodycon dress that is covered with green sparkles and has a thigh-high slit. I'm guessing there's extra padding in in the chest and hips, but there is no way to shrink a waist to as small as hers is unless it was already naturally that small.
Aradon stutters. "Well, I – I – I don't, don't think that's an... an appropriate question..."
Mistle leans back and relaxes against the back of her chair. "Oh, but Aradon,... it wouldn't be an inappropriate question if you weren't feeling guilty..."
Aradon's eyes are wide and his jaw is tense. "Miss Lou, I really don't think –"
"No, Aradon, you don't think, do you? Maybe a specific part of you thinks for the rest of your body, but you don't think. If you did, maybe you'd realize that you do nothing for the tributes except remind them that they will most likely never go home. This is the last night we have before we go into that glorious arena, and you quizzing tributes about their homes and families just adds to the general feeling of homesickness. So quit thinking with your prick and quit being a dick."
Mistle stalks offstage as Aradon gapes like a fish.
Cue another commercial break.
When the commercial is over, Aradon is once again cool and collected and laughing with Axl, the male tribute from District 4.
"Oh!" exclaims Aradon in falsified embarrassment, "you've caught us. I'd like to introduce Axl Floyd, our male tribute from District 4!"
"Hey, everyone," Axl greets the audience and cameras, "sorry about my district partner. She can be a little... explosive at times. I'm not that bad, I promise." Axl winks, and sighs of adulation sweep through the audience.
Aradon grins and twists his features into an expression resembling skeptical inquisitiveness. "You might not be bad, but we've heard about your family... Is it true that – and I've only just heard the news – that Candle, Mars, and Taffeta aren't the only legacies in the Games? That you have an equally long line of Victors in your family?"
Axl smirks. "Damn straight," he says confidently, "My mom is the Victor of the 82nd Games, and both my grandfather and my great-grandfather are Victors. Well, not my great-grandfather, he's dead, but he won the 26th Games and Grandpops won the 57th Games. They're from my dad's side, and the only reason he's not a Victor is because he's a nice guy. He tied for first with a guy whose family had nothing, so they told my dad and Jaxon to figure it out between themselves. They should have fought it out, but instead my dad just told Jaxon to take the spot, and Jaxon won the 74th Games. He's like my uncle now, and he's the one who taught me everything about women."
Axl smirks at the audience, and there are multiple swooning women and a few men seen through the screen.
"Sounds like you have quite the impressive pedigree!" Aradon states happily. "I can't wait to see you in the Games... something tells me you won't have a problem winning this thing. But what about friends? An impressive background like yours surely scares off other kids, right?"
Axl grins confidently. "Just the opposite, Aradon; my heritage gives me a huge degree of popularity in the district. It's akin to the hero worship of the Victors throughout the districts; you know how it is. Really," Axl here pauses and gives a suggestive wink to the audience, "my social life is easy."
Aradon and Axl burst into simultaneous laughter just as the buzzer sounds to effectively end the interview. Axl rises, his dark blue suit reflecting gentle, unobtrusive iridescent waves, and Aradon leads him offstage.
Next onto the stage is Roxy LaRose, the tall, thin, brunette girl who looks depressed most of the time, and her nondescript black dress only adds exponentially to her constant image of sadness. Aradon visibly swallows, a look of slight worry and exasperation crossing his face. It isn't for a full moment after they are seated and Aradon says "Miss LaRose! It is so good to finally meet you!" that Roxy responds. She lifts her dull brown hair and her equally dull brown eyes meet Aradon's.
"Huh?" is the only thing she says.
Aradon repeats himself.
"Oh. Yeah, it's good to meet you too."
"So..." Aradon trails, waiting for Roxy to respond or at least show some initiative (or better, enthusiasm), "What's your favorite part about the Capitol?"
Roxy stares at Aradon in silence. The rest of the interview proceeds in such a manner (Aradon questions, Roxy stares silently) until the buzzer sounds abnormally early, and Aradon guides Roxy off stage.
The moment Roxy's dress has completely disappeared from our view, Niklass Hadeshan appears onstage. The short, slim boy exudes excitement and has a stage presence that rivals that of Aradon. Instead of the (initially) boring outfit he wore during the Parade, Nic's interview outfit consists of a black tuxedo with yellow trim and bright red shoes, all finished off with a brilliantly shining black top hat, though I suppose the reason his entire arrival is so exciting is because Nic's top hat is held gently between his feet – he has walked onstage on his hands. He balances on one hand and waves to the audience before placing both hands back squarely on the ground and dropping his top hat onto his head with his feet before slowly and carefully bringing first his right foot to the ground, then his left foot. Aradon is still staring in astonishment as Nic reaches out and shakes his hand. Halfway through this wordless greeting, Aradon starts laughing and clasps Nic's shoulder with a firm left hand while vigorously shaking Nic's hand with his right. Aradon guides him to the couch and they both sit, Aradon finally calming down.
"Well, my boy, that was one of the best entrances I have ever seen in all my years as Interviewer! Tell me, how does a young man from District 5, of all places, learn acrobatics?"
Nic grins and sits up straighter than I ever thought possible. "Aradon," he begins proudly, "I am an apprentice ringmaster."
Silence.
"I was abandoned at a very young age, and a group of street performers found me next to a garbage bin. They raised me as one of their own and taught me their trade. Bing and Mandy, the leaders of the troupe, are basically my parents, but everyone in the troupe is really my family. Bing is our ringmaster-announcer, and Mandy is the head acrobat. Mandy taught me everything she could before, of course, I was reaped. There are a few tricks I still don't know, but I know many things."
"Is that so?" Aradon asks excitedly, rhetorically. "Can you show us anything else?"
"Of course!" Nic replies excitedly. "Would you like me to?"
Before I go into detail about Nic's amazing performance, I'd like to quickly note just how fantastic this kid is. We've only seen a small bit of him, but even excluding his extraordinary acrobatic feats so far, Nic has made an impression. His speaking voice alone is enough to grab your attention and his posturing, his attitude, the way he holds himself keeps your focus and leaves you wanting more. All you want to do is listen to him, watch him, and the whole time he keeps you wondering what he's going to do next.
Okay. Done.
Nic bound up from the couch and, with one effortless pull removes his suit and tosses it to the side, revealing a bright-yellow acrobatic outfit that shimmers with movement. Miniature scenes of trapeze artists and elephants and all manner of circus folk dance across his suit, and its so distracting I almost forget he's supposed to be doing a routine. Nic's halfway through a back walkover that he finishes and transitions into round-offs, which he transitions further into handsprings. Nic finishes with a flawless backwards summersault and sticks the landing right on the edge of the stage.
Everyone is silent for a few seconds before the entirety of the audience erupts into ear-splitting howls, cheers and applause. Aradon manages to quiet the audience and turns to Nic. He is able to say one thing ("Nic," he cries excitedly, "that was amazing!") before the buzzer goes off.
I feel sorry for Alaina Midnight, the next tribute up. What with the tumultuous applause and lingering excitement about Nic's routine, there are very few persons concentrating on the tributes themselves. Instead, Aradon has to have the lights flashed to get everyone to shut up. Alaina walks onstage in a gorgeous black one-shoulder mermaid gown with red threading bearing a semblance to train tracks here and there and a pair of killer red heels that flash below the long black skirt as she walks.
Aradon smiles and holds out his hand to her. Once she grasps, he raises her hand and yells "Alaina Midnight, from District 6, everyone!" before guiding her to the tribute's couch. They sit simultaneously and Aradon settles into his seat with a look of professional curiosity. "Alaina," he says inquisitively, "just how was the food?"
The audience bursts into laughter, but Alaina's answer is barely audible. "Fine," she whispers, and the barest glimmer of a frown crosses Aradon's face. "Well, what was your favorite dish? If I remember correctly, the food was the thing you were most excited about during the Reapings." Behind the two onstage, a clip of Alaina's comments to Kairon during the Reapings plays.
Alaina shrugs noncommittally.
Aradon does not seem to know what to do with a tribute that is so quiet, so meek and timid. I do believe it's the first time he's had to deal with a tribute that seems to want to be forgotten.
Aradon tries again, though, this time asking about Alaina's life. A flash of pure rage is glimpsed on Alaina's face before she shuts down completely. "My life at home is. FINE," she says, before straightening her shoulders and inclining her chin regally. The look on her face dares Aradon to ask her another question, and Aradon knows it. The last thing he says is a very quiet "oh" before shutting up for the rest of the interview (a full minute wasted on silence. Why didn't they sound the buzzer early?).
The next tribute onstage is "Harley Chang!" who slides out of the curtains side stage like a greasy snake. He is wearing what seems to have been a very nicely tailored grey suit, but the suit jacket is hanging over one shoulder as he holds it with his left hand. His long, dark, tan sleeves are rolled up and his collar is unbuttoned, tie loosened and hanging limp. You can see the revolting needle marks up and down his right arm as he waves to the crowd. A sheen of sweat has broken across his forehead, and in the audience I see the District 6 stylist with his head in his hands – I don't blame him. Aradon takes his hand gingerly and shakes it slowly, almost skeptically. They both sit and Aradon is, once again, the first to speak.
"Harley, so nice to meet you!" he begins before being abruptly cut off. "It's Lee," Harley (or Lee, I suppose) harshly snaps. Aradon looks startled and half-scared. Lee's face relaxes, and he grins. "Nah, I'm just screwin' with ya. But really, I'd like it better if ya called me Lee."
Aradon grins as well. "All right then, Lee, how're you liking the Capitol?"
"Aw, man, I ain't got nothin' but respect for y'alls up here. The whole party-all-the-time thing is awesome, and I wish I could get me my hands on some more of your drugs up here. This life's awesome!"
The audience cheers happily.
Aradon seems content to finally have a tribute he can work well with, one who appreciates the Capitol. "You like the Capitol lifestyle then, eh?"
Lee grins. "Yup. Y'all's so relaxed 'round here, there ain't none a that 'be good or ya get beat' sh*t goin' on here. No 'follow these rules or you're dead' stuff either. Really, y'alls got the life. This is how it should be, nobody telling ya what ta do, nobody starin' over your shoulder, everybody just doing what they like. That's the way ta do stuff, people!"
Aradon looks slightly startled. Lee has begun to slur his words, but I think it's more the message he carries that worries the infamous interviewer.
"So you're a fan of anarchy, then, Lee?"
Lee's posture becomes defensive and he starts shaking, starts scratching his arm compulsively. "Naw. What snitch-ey little idiot said that? I ain't against government. Law and order, that's the way to go."
Lee's rocking back and forth now, scratching his left arm harder and harder. Aradon looks alarmed. "Lee, Lee," he says in a placating manner, "nobody said that. I'm just curious is all."
"Yeah?! Well shove it! We don't need no spies ruinin' our operation here!"
With that, Lee leaps up in the air and starts shouting incomprehensibly about morphling, mules, and snitches. Aradon signals discreetly and two security guards come onstage to "assist" Lee offstage. Lee struggles violently, scratching and biting, until his eyes glaze over and a happy smile graces his vacant face. A guard discreetly slips an orange tranq pen into his pocket, and the excitement dies down.
The audience is both laughing at his antics and sneering with disgust.
I've gone back and updated some chapters, but I'm not done editing. Sorry for the wait! Between physio and college searches and work, I haven't had much time on my hands. Hope you enjoyed!
