Present day
Falcon Smith (51)- President of Panem
The Reapings must be all over by now. I grab my tablet and sit on one of the couches of my new bureau. I didn't want to be associated with Snow's pompous regime, that's why I've got a new bureau that is comfortable but spartan. Even the president's mansion at the City Circle is used only for social events. As a matter of fact, I live in my old house. I sigh. If only my sons followed suit instead of living in ultra-luxurious villas *… but this is not the time to think of my family, so I'd better focus on something else. The Reapings may be a good distraction.
I switch on my tablet and tune into HG Channel- the channel dedicated to the Hunger Games.
"Hello, Panem! Welcome to the 76th annual Hunger Games! We are all eager to see the tributes of this year, so let's move on to the Reapings!" says Cinnamon Nicewarble- the new Master of Ceremonies **.
First of all, they show the main square of District 1. It looks like a carnival… colourful garments, jewels, flags, banners… one can immediately understand that District 1 is a wealthy place, second only to Capitol City. The mayor makes an introductory speech and then reads the Treaty of Treason. The escort is about to start with the females, but a girl volunteers before she can pick up a slip of paper from the Reaping ball. Nothing surprising in a Career district. Besides, the female tribute looks like a typical girl of District 1- blonde hair, blue eyes, athletic build. The male tribute is reaped instead, and no one volunteers for him… that's unusual. His name is Iron Rattler… umm, Rattler… I know the names of the most notorious rebels, and I'm pretty sure Rattler was the surname of one of their commanders. This boy must be his son… a relative, in any case… definitely a tribute who has to die at all costs… but I trust Ismene, I don't need to tell her what to do.
Then, it's the turn of District 2. More sober compared to District 1. A district nestled among the mountains, as strong as the hearts of its citizens. Its military force was crucial for winning the war. I feel a knot in my stomach. Yeah, District 2 remained loyal to the Capitol, but my wife lost her life there, and I was not with her… I was not with her! I was in the Capitol, hidden like a coward, while she was on the front lines, fighting for our country. I'll never be able to forgive myself for that. Anyway, the tributes of District 2 look promising: the boy- Gavriel Asterin - is the son of two victors… exactly the kind of tribute who should win to emphasize Capitol's victory over the rebels; the girl- Lokir Mistlyre- has just knocked out another girl, who volunteered along with her… her name doesn't ring a bell, though, but it's not necessarily a bad thing.
District 3. A rather grey district, a district of factories. Its tributes rarely win the Games, and those of this year don't look threatening neither. The boy could be mistaken for a Capitolite with his ashy blonde hair dyed blue at the edges, but he almost trips while mounting the stage. At least, he's not a hopeless twelve-year-old.
District 4. A village of fishermen facing the crystal blue sea. Another place that evokes memories that I'd like to forget. The female tribute volunteers for a younger girl. They have the same surname, they must be siblings. Then, as for the boys...
"Izumi Laine!" says the escort.
Laine!? No, it cannot be, he cannot be her son! Maybe Ren Laine had a child with another woman, not with her… maybe they're not even related… but the boy and she are peas in a pod! How old is he? Twelve… the only time that I was in District 4 was… no, more than twelve years ago, right? He cannot be…
I switch off my tablet. I use the telephone exchange to call my secretary.
"Rose, please call the Head Gamemaker, and tell her that I want to see her right now," I say, trying to sound calm.
"Yes, sir. Do I need to add anything else to your message?"
"Tell her that I just want to talk about the tributes of this year."
"Yes, sir."
One thing is certain: everything needs to look normal from outside. The truth that I might learn scares me, but nothing will get out of this bureau.
…...
Ismene Flair (45)- Head Gamemaker
I look at my reflection in the mirror. My contact lenses are still in place. I'm short-sighted, but unfortunately my myopia cannot be treated. That doesn't prevent me from using contact lenses, though, even coloured. Actually, my eyes are brown and not light green… but when you marry a famous stylist, you need to maintain a certain image. My husband's motto is "the paler, the better", so I had to adapt to it: I wear light green contact lenses, and I frequently use lemon juice to brighten my brick-coloured skin… yeah, that's how my husband describes my skin tone, he compares it to a brick. I usually wear light-coloured clothes, but I've decided not to change my hair, since I'm fond of their raven hue.
I need to maintain a certain image also as the Head Gamemaker. I'm well aware that many people believe I will fail, since I've got no experience... and these would probably be the first to congratulate me in case of success. That's how it works, after all: if you fail, you're a loser, and everyone points fingers at you; if you succeed, you're a hero, and everyone acclaims you as if you were a god. People are fickle and two-faced, but I'm not afraid of them, I know what I have to do. At least, they cannot say that I've got no creativity, since the idea for the arena was mine. To be sincere, coming up with it was not that difficult. It was a stroke of genius.
"The Games of this year must be me memorable, even more than a Quarter Quell! Let's add a twist to make them more interesting!" says a Gamemaker.
"We haven't chosen the landscape yet!" points out another.
"The landscape is not that important! If we really want to punish the districts, we should add a twist: only rebels can be reaped."
"Oh, come on! Almost everyone in the districts was a rebel!"
It's really loud now. Everyone wants to say something without waiting for their turn, so understanding what is being said is almost impossible. I wonder how these Gamemakers can make the Hunger Games work, if they are not able to reach an agreement.
At this stage, I stand up. Everyone falls silent and turns to me.
"The 76th Hunger Games are meant to punish the districts for the second rebellion, but I don't think we should add a twist," I say. "From an organizational point of view, this is a normal edition. The only difference is that the arena will convey a special message this year. Why don't we use a metaphor? The districts have to be punished for their crimes... they sinned, and we're like gods now, we have the power to punish them, to make them atone for their sins… like the ancient gods used to do to mankind. In my opinion, the arena should implement this metaphor, so why don't we set it in Ancient Greece, the land of myth per excellence?"
At first, no one says a word in response. They all seem to be considering my proposal. Hard to say what they're thinking: will they accept or reject it?
At some point, Oberon Baynes breaks the silence: "That's an excellent idea, Mrs. Flair. Of course, we will need to create an arena that relates to the ancient myths…"
"I'm passionate about mythology. I have already some ideas," I promptly reply.
My recollection fades away as soon as I hear the phone ring. I go answer it, but my husband precedes me.
"Yes?… oh, I see… yeah, I'll tell her."
He puts the phone down and then addresses me: "The president wants to see you."
"Why?" I ask him.
"Oh, dear, don't ask too many questions. Think only about making a good impression. You know, an eventual failure…"
"I know it. An eventual failure could affect also your career," I interrupt him, rolling my eyes.
"Precisely."
…...
Falcon Smith (51)- President of Panem
When Ismene enters my bureau, I cannot help but think that she could be mistaken for a top model. Tall, thin… her long legs are brought out by the knee-long, short-sleeved, white dress that she's wearing. Her dress has a pattern that reminds me of soap bubbles. She's wearing also high heels, and her raven hair has an unmistakable bowl haircut.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" she says.
I have gathered my thoughts before her arrival, but, when I open my mouth to speak, I cannot help stammering: "Oh, Ismene… p-please, take your seat… I-I'd like to… to talk to you."
I could kill myself! I don't sound calm at all!
"Falcon… is everything okay? You look a bit nervous," she points out, indeed, and sits down right in front of me.
I take a deep breath. "I'd like to talk about one of the tributes," I reply.
"Which one?" she asks, while pulling her tablet out of her bag. "If it's the boy from One, I know that…"
I interrupt her: "What do you know about the boy from Four?"
"Four?" she echoes me, clearly puzzled.
"Yes."
She switches on her tablet and looks for the required information. "Well, I cannot say that much. He's an orphan, his parents died both during the war, and…"
"Who were his parents?"
"Ren and Nanako Laine. Apparently, his family was important before the war."
"Maiden name?"
"Yu. But why…?"
"Anything else?"
"Falcon, why are you so interested in that boy?" she answers with another question.
"It doesn't matter," I reply.
"Oh, no, it does matter instead! He's a tribute now, his life is in my hands! If you know something that I don't, you have to tell me," she rebuts.
"I… I was in District 4… just once, many years ago… and I met them… I mean, his parents…" I explain, without looking at her.
"And…"
"And what?"
"Oh, come on, Falcon! Do you usually care that much about people you met just once? I don't think so," she replies.
"Well, they were kind and…"
"Falcon…"
I gaze at her. She looks more determined than ever.
"You know that you can tell me anything. I'm discreet, nothing will get out of this bureau, but I need to know the truth. What aren't you telling me?" she says in a calm voice, putting her hand on mine.
"The truth might hurt you," I reply.
"I don't care," she affirms.
"Okay, as you wish. I was in District 4 twelve years ago, and once I… I slept with this Nanako, so… Izumi Laine might be my son."
…...
Ismene Flair (45)- Head Gamemaker
"… Izumi Laine might be my son."
Falcon's confession is like a bolt from the blue. I feel betrayed, as if he had just said that he cheated on me and not on my sister. I need all my self-control not to shout at Falcon and to hold back my tears of rage.
"Do you want him to win, then?" I ask him with a quivering voice.
"Of course not, no favouritism!" he promptly answers.
"Yeah, if he died, your dirty secret would die with him, right?" I point out.
"Ismene…"
"I know that Gorgo was not a tender woman, but she didn't deserve…"
"It was a mistake, and I know it, Ismene. Believe me, it was just a flirt…" he says, trying to justify himself.
"Should I feel better, then?"
"You blame me, and you're right. Just… I cannot change the past, I wish I could."
"What do you want me to do?" I ask him, watching him right in the eye.
"Don't say a word to anyone," he answers.
"Why did you tell me that?"
"I just wanted to make sure that my doubts were justified. I'm not 100% sure that the boy is my son, but it doesn't matter. If they found it out, it would be a scandal, in any case. Please, Ismene, I'm begging you, help me to keep it a secret! I know that I'm demanding too much from you, but… you're my only hope."
"You want me to be your accomplice, then. What if the boy knew the truth?" I enquire.
"If he knows the truth, he'll try to talk to me, I suppose. In that case, we'll convince him to keep silent," he answers.
"A threat?"
"A deal," he corrects me.
"But what deal could we offer? We can't guarantee even his survival!" I point out, shaking my head.
"We could offer him supplies in the arena. If he's clever, he'll understand that it's his word against mine and that he cannot push it that much."
When I leave Falcon's bureau, I feel like I have more questions than answers. What should I do? Should I help Falcon despite all? He cheated on my sister, whereas I thought he was a loyal man, a man of integrity. If Izumi Laine hadn't been reaped, I would have never known the truth. Gorgo loved Falcon in her way. Yes, she was often busy with work, but this is not an excuse! If I think of the sacrifice I made not to ruin their marriage… Gorgo was the elder sister, the self-confident girl; I was a shy bookworm, a girl who didn't want to valorise her figure, because she was afraid of men's attention. A resourceful boy like Falcon would never notice a girl like me. What should I do? Should I really help him?
So, another chapter is finished. I hope you liked this little interlude between the Reapings and the train rides. I think that adding it was kind of obligatory, just to see Falcon's reaction to the reaping of his illegitimate son. I took this opportunity also to introduce the arena. Great spoiler, I know, but I promise you that the theme of Greek mythology will be well developed, so stay tuned, please. What to do think of Ismene's idea for the arena? What should she do with Izumi?
Starting from the next chapter, submitters will be able to assign their extra points. Submissions for sponsors are still available.
Thank you for reading :)
*You can find the description of one of them in Love Is the Deadliest Weapon chapter 3 (D1 Reaping)
**The same of Love Is the Deadliest Weapon