Townes Myrellis-Verilla, 27
Mayor of District Six
June 12th, 97 ADD
7:46 PM
tw: mention of parental abuse
Townes sat in his father's chair, behind his father's desk, in his father's office, staring at an envelope sitting innocently in front of him.
No. Not his father's, anymore. His.
He swallowed. Townes had been putting off opening this letter for a week. Until yesterday, he'd gotten by, but only by insisting Aldrich Zamoras be buried before the legal matters were taken care of.
He still was not in a rush to open this letter. At this point, though, he didn't really have a choice.
Townes buried his head in his hands. He knew perfectly well what the line of succession was. It had been this way ever since he completed his degree: Aldrich as Mayor, Townes first in line, and an assortment of other officials- all of which were in Aldrich's pocket- after him. It was the system the Capitol had instituted after the Dark Days. Archaic in many ways, but it worked.
Townes had just never thought he would come into the position this way. He'd planned to run for office himself someday. Esper would probably say Townes should've seen it coming- Townes had been slowly taking over duties for a while, now, as his father was never in the best of shape.
But he'd never thought it would come to this. He never thought Aldrich would take his drinking so far. Sure, he would lie and cheat and blackmail, and he would take it out on Townes, sometimes, but Aldrich would never hurt himself. The man loved himself too much.
(Or maybe Townes was, yet again, wrong about his father.)
Townes lifted his head, letting a long breath out through his nose. He took one of his father's ornately wrought letter openers from the desk and slit the envelope open, then drew the letter out and unfolded it.
It was in Aldrich's handwriting.
Dear Son,
If you are reading this, you have now taken over my position as Mayor of District Six. I suppose congratulations are in order. I always hoped the position would stay in the Zamoras family, although I still would prefer it if you changed your name back. I remember you said once it was better for candidacy to match with him, but I'm not so sure. But I digress.
As I wish to set you up for success, contrary to what that husband of yours would have you believe, you will require certain resources to truly be an effective leader and get yourself elected to a full term next election cycle. There is a key in the top left-hand desk drawer. Behind the family portrait over the mantle, there is a lockbox in the wall. The key will unlock it. Use its contents wisely.
Look after your mother.
Sincerely,
Mayor Aldrich Zamoras
January 1st, 96 ADD
Townes set the letter down and reached for the desk drawer in question. He had to rifle around a bit, but eventually he found a small silver key. It was cool in his hand as he stood and approached the mantle.
(He couldn't help but stare at the portrait for a moment before pulling it back. It was maybe twenty years old by now. All three of them were smiling- his father's smile broad, his mother's close-lipped, and his own face beaming up at the camera. He was still so small that the top of his head only reached his mother's waist.
This had been taken in his father's first term. Before Townes knew what the back of his father's hand felt like.)
Townes set his jaw and reached for the frame, tugging one side, then the other, until it swung open like a door. Sure enough, there was a gray box set into the wall behind it. It wasn't large- maybe one foot by one foot- and it had a keyhole on the right-hand side. Townes inserted the key, and with a click, the lockbox swung open too.
The box was stuffed full of papers. Townes reached in and grabbed a fistful, and when that wasn't enough, gathered more into his arms and dumped them on the desk. He dropped a few as he walked them over, and made one more trip to pick stray papers off the floor and from the walls of the lockbox.
Once he had them all on the desk, he sat down again, unsure where to start. For lack of a better option, he picked up the nearest one and unfolded it.
Upon signing this contract, the signer agrees to fund two campaign rallies in exchange for subtracted slips in remaining Reaping years for two Reaping candidates.
Townes' jaw tightened. He set that one aside and reached for another.
DEATH CERTIFICATE
Audrina Myrellis-Verilla
January 17th, 46 ADD - July 3rd, 95 ADD (approximate)
Esper's mother was dead? Townes had no idea. Frankly, he wasn't sure Esper had known, either. But for nearly two years… why did his father have this?
He placed it on the other contract and picked up a pile that was binder-clipped together, scanning the top sheet quickly.
Mayor Zamoras,
Here's everything I could find on Teurian Metellus before his arrival to District Six. Please let me know if you would like me to keep tabs on his activity since arriving.
Townes frowned and reached for a stack of checks paper-clipped together. The reason for payment on each of them was Interpersonal Reasons. He picked up another paper.
Mayor Zamoras,
Could not find anything useful on Stelvio. I would recommend returning his daughter Vespasia's Reaping slips to the bowl for the 89th Games.
He grabbed another.
Background Check on Teurian Metellus (Discreet)
Another.
Dear Mayor Zamoras,
Upon reviewing your generous donation, we would be happy to modify your son's course schedule as requested. Please let us know if there is anything else we can do for you.
Sincerely,
University Administration
September 88 ADD
Another.
Mayor Zamoras,
Please confirm whether or not to proceed with Reaping slip replacement for the Pettifur girl. To my understanding, the Stelvio case was an incredibly unique situation and was not to be repeated.
Another.
Upon signing this contract, the signer agrees to fund catering for three events of Aldrich Zamoras's choosing in exchange for subtracted slips in following Reaping years for one Reaping candidate.
Another.
Background Check on Esper Myrellis-Verilla (Discreet)
Another.
If the Committee no longer receives funding from your administration over this matter, Mayor Zamoras, we will be forced to cancel the free lunch policy at the public schools. I'm sure we can resolve this in good faith.
Another.
Mayor Zamoras,
Confirmed that the Secretary's assistant is in Stelvio's pocket. Please inform me how you'd like me to proceed.
Another.
In exchange for your assistance with the Reaping, your next campaign will be fully funded by the Malone family. Payments will begin upon confirmation on Reaping Day, June 1st 97 ADD. In doing this service, we assure you that you are bringing our family's long, harrowing search for justice to an end, and we could not be more grateful. We will sleep more soundly at night knowing this violent young woman will finally see retribution for her actions.
He tore through the rest of the papers, reading each one more quickly than the next until he could barely see the words on the pages in front of him. All of his father's secrets were laid bare before him. All of his father's blackmail, right there in front of him.
(Townes had known for several years that his father wasn't a good man. But he'd wanted to keep believing that his father was a decent mayor. All Townes had ever dreamed of doing was helping people the way his father did.
But none of that was real. Townes couldn't deny that any longer.)
There was only one more document. It was a pristine white envelope held shut by a golden seal Townes wasn't familiar with. He flipped it over and nearly dropped it when he saw the name written on the back.
For Townes Myrellis-Verilla.
That wasn't his father's handwriting.
Townes pulled the seal free with his nail and pulled the contents of the envelope free. He set the envelope aside and unfolded them. There were two sheets of paper.
The first one was a letter.
Dear Mr. Myrellis-Verilla,
Congratulations on your promotion. As you settle into your new office, allow this to serve as a reminder that the position of Mayor is one of public- as opposed to private- service. Should you remain within your parameters, unlike your predecessor, I believe we will get along very well.
Yours,
President Minerva Hargrove
His brow furrowed. What did the president mean by "unlike your predecessor?" The piles of pages around him went back several years; what had tipped Aldrich Zamoras over the edge?
Did Townes even want to know?
Townes set the letter aside and started reading the second page.
Toxicology Report
Aldrich Zamoras, 58 Y/O
Cause of Death: Nightlock Consumption
The report went on. Townes couldn't finish it.
(No, his father died of alcohol poisoning- this wasn't right-)
His hands were shaking too hard to see the words. His heartbeat slammed against his ribs, and he tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, only to feel his dinner rising in his gut. He leaned over and grabbed the wastebin just in time.
When he was finished emptying his stomach, he leaned back, wiping his mouth with a tissue. He couldn't look at the toxicology report again. His head felt like it might explode.
His father had been blackmailing dozens of people while in office. At some point, it had gone too far, and he'd been… poisoned?... for it. That was what the report had to mean, right? That was why the president had included it in her letter. God, how did she even get it in his father's safe? How many people knew about the safe?
His fingers twitched toward the phone. He wanted to call Esper so he could talk this through, figure it out. He wanted to hear a reassuring voice that would tell him everything would be fine. But on second thought, he pulled his hand back- it was late, and last he checked, both of Esper's tributes were still alive. Esper would be working overtime right now anyway, especially with that Capitolite girl- the Pettifur one- and Townes didn't need to add to his stress. Besides, it almost certainly wasn't safe to speak on the phone anyway. Or in this office. Or in their house in the Victor's Village.
Frustration burned through him at that. How was it fair that everywhere was unsafe? He had to force himself not to look at the toxicology report, at the warning of what his fate would be if he fucked up. Townes looked up at the family portrait across the room, looking at the small boy who only wanted to follow his father's footsteps.
(If he followed in his father's footsteps, he was guaranteed to die.)
(Townes didn't get angry often. But for a moment, he was angry for that little boy. He was angry about all the truths that boy would have to learn. He was angry that he wasn't that little boy anymore.)
Townes clenched and opened his fist once, twice. Fortunately, Townes had few plans for taking advantage of public office. Most of them consisted of reinstating free school lunches or increasing public sanitation jobs to reduce unemployment and pollution.
There was, of course, the matter of sending one train from District Six to the Capitol and back again, through a long, long detour. But that was merely to pick up his husband from Mentor duties. He spent so much time in the Capitol that it only made sense to arrange earlier transportation, to allow him to be with his family… one early train surely wouldn't bring about any unwanted attention.
(Besides, he promised.)
Townes decided he didn't want to look at any of this anymore. He folded papers and shoved them back in their envelopes and pushed them back into the lockbox behind the family portrait. He relocked it and shoved the key deep into the desk.
Then he looked up at the portrait again. His father, jovial. His mother, content. Himself, hopeful.
Townes decided that as soon as Esper was back in town, it was time to update that portrait.
June 12th, 97 ADD
Subject: (no subject)
S,
Arrived. Navigating tricky but think I'm in position.
DV
Bellona Hargrove, 36
Head Gamemaker
June 12th, 97 ADD
9:00 PM
Her mother's office was perhaps her least favorite place in the entire country, which made it very unfortunate that she was currently in it.
"I'll make this quick," President Hargrove said. "We both have matters to return to."
Her mother sat behind the heavy desk, imperious as always. During the Games, she was always dressed to perfection, ready for any appearance. Today, her hair was slicked back in a tight bun that looked determined to recede her hairline, and she wore a cream pantsuit with golden buttons and jewelry to match.
Bellona slowly took the seat in front of the desk, watching her mother's hands carefully. Just in case they ventured near that desk drawer.
"I am not pleased," her mother said.
Bellona swallowed. "The culprit has been discovered and disposed of-"
"Not by you," Minerva interrupted. "By tributes."
"The evidence pointed to-" she nearly said the One tribute, but remembered her arrangement with Aurelia- "the Two boy. We had no reason to suspect Four."
"Really?" her mother asked. She arched an eyebrow, tapping a paper on her desk with her index fingernail. "I read over the private session notes. They seem indicative of the same behavior Four displayed in the arena."
"We must have missed that," Bellona answered, knowing better than to attempt a smile.
"Must have," Minerva remarked.
A moment of silence hung between them. Bellona had to force herself not to squirm under her mother's steely gaze.
(As a child, Bellona rarely got in trouble with her mother. She knew better than that. She couldn't help but remember the feeling now of being reprimanded for her mistakes: low grades, sneaking out, coming home with cheap liquor on her breath. Bellona had learned to only make a mistake once.
The longer she sat there, the more she couldn't ignore it: this mistake had now been made twice.
And the second mistake was far, far more severe.)
"But the issue is gone now, either way," Bellona tried. "Both are dead."
"Spectacularly," Minerva agreed, which boosted her hopes a little. Minerva had always had a good appreciation for a spectacle. That was good. "And for that reason, I will give you a chance to redeem yourself."
Bellona's stomach twisted. She watched her mother closely, waiting for the proposition.
"The Pettifur girl," Minerva said. "She will miraculously survive her time in the arena. Ideally, she wins. Otherwise, by a great stroke of luck, it will be discovered that her tracker has malfunctioned and pronounced her dead by mistake. Our physicians will find that to be untrue, and she will be revived accordingly. Do you understand?"
Bellona nodded vigorously. "We've already been directing other tributes away from Fleur and her ally," she told her. "The trouble is separating her from her ally in order to retrieve-"
"I don't care about the logistics," Minerva stated. "Do you understand?"
"Yes," Bellona said quickly.
"Very well," Minerva replied. "You're dismissed."
Bellona nodded again and stood to take her leave. As she walked to the door, her heart wouldn't stop racing. She's letting you go for now. Just get Fleur out, and you'll be fine. You won't need Aurelia at all.
"Bellona," her mother called.
Bellona turned over her shoulder.
"I entrusted this position to you because I believed you were capable," Minerva said. A chill ran along Bellona's spine as she watched her mother's hand lift toward the desk drawer, playing absentmindedly with the metal handle. "Do not prove me wrong."
Bellona stared at her mother. Minerva stared back.
A hint of a smile pressed at her mother's lips. Bellona forced her breath to remain steady.
(Bellona understood. Either Fleur Pettifur survived the Games, or Bellona Hargrove would not.)
Finally, her mother spoke again. "You've been dismissed," Minerva reminded her.
Bellona turned and left, shutting the office door behind her.
(Now that she was out of sight, she couldn't catch her breath. Her mother was more than willing to see her dead on the office floor. Her mother was willing to kill Bellona with her own hand. All of it- Bellona's entire life- was nothing to Minerva. Minerva would throw her away for her Games in a heartbeat.)
(Maybe she could maneuver Fleur Pettifur into winning or surviving. But what if she didn't? And what if something beyond her control went wrong again? There would be no third chance. It was a miracle that Bellona was getting a second one.)
Bellona didn't waste time. She couldn't spare much; she would be needed at work as soon as possible. But she needed her backup plan. She needed to know she had a way out of this.
There was nothing Bellona Hargrove wouldn't do to escape the bullet in that desk drawer.
She left the government buildings and headed for the Gamemaker complexes. The Training Center and the Mentor lounge were only a block away. Bellona went inside the Training Center, showing her ID to the Peacekeepers guarding the doors, and knocked on the door of the first floor apartments.
As she'd predicted, Aurelia was there. Her tribute was dead- there was nothing else she needed in the Mentor lounge. Perhaps camaraderie, but Bellona suspected Aurelia had never taken much interest in that. The younger woman was dressed comfortably, her hair tied back and only a few traces of makeup on her face. Aurelia's eyebrows rose. "What is it?"
"I'll do it," Bellona said, breathless. "Get me out."
Aurelia lowered her voice. "Something happened?"
"I'm fucked," Bellona told her. "I'll do whatever you want. Get me out."
Aurelia's eyes widened. With a speed that surprised Bellona, Aurelia grabbed her by the wrists and dragged her inside, shutting the door behind them. "Anything?" Aurelia asked.
"As long as it doesn't get me killed," Bellona answered.
Aurelia looked into the living room behind her, thinking. Bellona followed her gaze- all she could see was a laptop on the couch. Bellona wasn't sure what it was for. By now, Aurelia didn't need to worry about raising sponsorship money or doing interviews.
Eventually, Aurelia looked back at her. "Let me make a call, and then we're going upstairs."
"Upstairs?"
"Third floor," Aurelia answered. "There are a few things we need help with."
"Fine," Bellona said. "And you'll get me out?"
Aurelia nodded. "We will."
That was the second time Aurelia had said we. Before Bellona could ask about it, Aurelia strode deeper into the apartment, leaving her to wait by the front door.
(She clenched and unclenched her hands. She would be fine. Aurelia would help her escape.)
(So why couldn't she get the image of her mother's hand, playing idly with the drawer handle, out of her mind?)
heyyyy! thank u for your patience while i got caught up with classes. next chap is about halfway done and if everything works out you'll have it this month. but for now, i hope you enjoyed this quick interlude! i'll see you next time with day six :)
rb
