"I volunteer as tribute!"
Argus remembered the shocked, slack-jawed faces of his friends, old Mrs. Haverford from the community home, and even the mayor calling the names at the reaping as he became the first ever tribute in history to volunteer for the Hunger Games. The rules had been in action since the first Games, but nobody thought that anyone would ever be bold (or insane) enough to actually do it. The old mayor had limply shook his hand with a grim look, clearly thinking that Argus was half-crazed and going off to his death.
The look on the boy he replaced was almost reward enough, though. A mix of shell-shock and relief at not being sent off to be slaughtered had covered his face. Clearly not even 14, the boy had begun to wet his pants. Argus had come off like a superhero to the Capitol audience, stepping in to save a weaker colleague.
Only two people hadn't seemed surprised. The people that had plucked him out of the orphanage and trained him for 2 years: Invictus and—
"CASSIUS!" The ground shook as Invictus opened the car door and roughly pulled the messy-haired younger Victor out onto the ground with one hand. "You're nearly an hour late. This is unacceptable conduct for someone of your political status."
"Oh, shut it, you bald prick." Grumbling, Cassius picked himself up and dusted off his leather jacket. "This is designer. If the dirt doesn't come out in the wash, I'm sending you the bill." He turned towards Argus. "If you turn out to be half as big an asshole as this guy, I swear to god…"
"Of course you're worried about your clothes," Invictus sneered. "You should have been born in 1."
As the two bickered, Argus ignored them both and, locating the building Invictus had come from, walked towards his destination. The car ride had been irritatingly long and the destination kept secret. Moreover, his predecessors were running even his near-infinite patience thin. He'd had enough of their fighting during his training. The camp had been brutal, with grueling exercise and mock duels for nearly 14 hours a day, but the worst part to Argus was listening to the two Victors from District 2 fight. Now he was going to get to hear it for the rest of his life. Wonderful.
Entering the door, Argus found himself creeping down a small, dark corridor. The walls were cramped and smelled damp and moldy. Above him, the fluorescent lights buzzed and occasionally flickered, giving the sense that they were about to go out at any moment. At last, he reached an unlabeled red wooden door at the end of the hallway. With some curiosity and great trepidation, he turned the handle and stepped through.
Inside, smooth jazz music filled the room as disco lights covered the ceiling. Avoxes moved by carrying drink trays and sandwich platters. Argus moved towards a couch in the center of what appeared to be a secret nightclub. It was dimly lit, so much so that he almost sat down on a very human-shaped blob. Argus let out a small yelp. The blob rustled before slumping up and looking at Argus with bleary eyes. He recognized the man, despite his shaggy, grown out beard and his unkempt look.
"Marlin, right?" Argus peered at the Victor of the second Hunger Games who was currently making a halfhearted attempt to sit up amongst the beer bottles and empty syringes surrounding him.
"S' talkin t'uh me?" Marlin slurred. "I'uh seen you on the telnevissin buhfore…" He slumped back down onto the couch, eyes closed, the effort of speaking apparently too much for him.
"Don't mind him." Cassius suddenly appeared behind Argus, pulling off his jacket and handing it to an Avox nearby. "He's too far gone to know where he is."
"What is this place?" Argus asked in wonder. He swept the room with his eyes, noticing several other people present. At a nearby table, a tall, burly redhead sat chatting with a thin, severe-looking woman. Two handsome blonde men, the shorter one nursing a drink, sat at the bar. The taller one seemed to be furiously explaining something to him with his hands. Something clicked in Argus's mind.
"Are these all of the Victors?"
"Welcome to the Underground, kid." Cassius grinned. "This is mostly Invictus's pet project, but I like to pop in time from time." At the mention of his name, Invictus passed through the doorway. Argus had no idea how a man that large was able to come through a door that small, but he seemed to make it work.
"Normally this place is reserved for Cassius and myself, and maybe the Ones from time to time, but I figured that such a momentous occasion warranted a bigger celebration. I arranged for transportation for the others to make it feel complete. Plus, they should see you in all your glory." Invictus grabbed a martini from an Avox's tray and took a sip. He turned to Argus with the maniacal smile that he had grown so used to. "You're the perfect Victor. Strong, loyal, dedicated to Two. Every kill in that arena was clean and swift. We couldn't have prepared you better."
Argus inwardly snorted, but stayed quiet. During training Invictus had been deadly serious, only ever speaking to offer a criticism or correction. He'd seemed terrifying then, muscles bulging and silently glaring, but since Argus had returned from the arena the Victor had become almost frenzied with joy. He had greeted him with a bear hug that lifted Argus nearly two feet into the air. Cassius, on the other hand, had remained relatively consistent, barking orders and making sarcastic comments. Their dynamic had quickly become exhausting. Still, he couldn't help but be grateful towards them. They'd picked him firsthand out of the depths of the community home and fed him, clothed him, and taught him how to fight. Along with a dozen or so other whelps from the streets and gutters of Two, Argus learned to break noses and cut throats, to get knocked down and get back up twice as ready to fight. Most of the other brats were weak, unprepared to enter the arena. They were there just for the food and shelter, constantly crowing and bragging about their exploits on the street. Argus had remained silent, listening and watching, taking in their strengths and their weaknesses. He had practiced hard, learned from his trainers, and beaten them bloody in practice. One particularly hot day, one of the other trainees, a boy about 14 years of age, had stolen his rations under his nose while he wasn't looking. During training Argus had challenged him to a duel, then knocked him to the ground and broken nearly every bone in his face. He eventually had to be pulled off the blood mess by Invictus, who was suppressing a small smile. He was locked in the brig for 24 hours as a punishment for disobeying orders, but was given extra rations and a 'Good Job' from Cassius for his tenacity and form.
The most valuable thing that his training had taught him was endurance. After his outburst, Invictus had personally implemented meditation sessions that lasted several hours each. Argus had sat in the hot sun, eyes closed, doing nothing but waiting. This would pay off in abundance. The eighth Games had been the first to span multiple days. Instead of confining the tributes to the center of the arena, which had largely fallen into disrepair, they had been allowed to spread into the stands, which provided ample spots for hiding. Instead of going on the hunt, Argus became the first Victor to play defensively. He waited for tributes to become impatient and rush him, upon which he'd disarm them with his superior sword-fighting skills and finish them off. It made for supremely boring television, but Argus didn't care. It was easy work. Tribute after tribute would grow anxious, weary, or crazed from starvation and lose their head in a panic. It didn't matter. Argus remained steady and unchanging, and always won. His stomach panged with hunger and his throat burned of thirst, but he'd been through worse under Invictus and Cassius. The Gamemakers had pulled him out of the arena after four days silent and virtually expressionless.
Invictus clinked his spoon on his glass. "Gather 'round, everyone! We have a Victor to celebrate!" he roared. The other Victors, mostly grumbling, got up and walked towards where the three men from 2 were standing. The taller boy from 1 raised his hand to offer a handshake. Argus took his hand and felt his eyes pass over him, as if scanning him for information.
"Name's Octavian, a pleasure, I'm sure. My colleague here is Glamour." Glamour nodded in acknowledgement, but said nothing. From his bored look, Argus got the feeling he thought he was above him. Ugh. He hated snobbish people with a passion. "I'm glad you showed up. We were worried you were hiding in a corner somewhere like in the arena, waiting to stick us with you little poker."
"Lay off him," the large boy with the red hair grumbled. "Elmer. 7."
"What, does the newest member of our ragtag bunch need a babysitter to talk for him?" Octavian rolled his eyes. "He's a big boy, Lumberjack. He doesn't need you to speak for him."
Elmer narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but didn't respond. Argus appreciated the support, but he appreciated his silence more. Then the girl, Willow, spoke up. "I knew this was a mistake. You're all still insufferable idiots." She got up to leave.
"I haven't finished my toast yet." Invictus's words were quiet, but everyone could hear his annoyance. A wave of silence flowed through them. Nobody wanted to mess with the first Victor; that was a surefire way to end up in the hospital with a few broken bones. Willow gingerly sat back down.
"As I was saying, we have a Victor to celebrate. When we found Argus, he was just a quiet boy from an orphanage that nobody wanted to adopt. He was but a few years away from being forced to leave and live on the streets. But at our Academy, we gave him a home and a purpose, and he became a warrior like the rest of us. Argus is a reminder that even the lowest of us can become a great champion. To Argus!" Invictus raised his glass. Cassius halfheartedly followed, as well as Elmer. Nobody else moved. In the background, Marlin fell off the sofa onto the ground and had to be carried away by a few Avoxes.
Willow stood back up. "That's it, I'm done," she stated. "I'm not going to sit around sucking up to people that pride themselves in killing children." She brushed past Argus on the way out and swiveled her head around to peer at him. "You're all murderers. Fanatical Capitol loyalists who sucked up the idea of being in the Games and let them brainwash you into thinking it was for honor. Don't let them convince you otherwise."
As she turned to leave, Argus put his hand out and grabbed her arm. Willow turned around in surprise and was met by his blank stare.
"I don't want you to misconstrue what I'm saying, so I'm going to be as clear as I can about this," he stated in his usual quiet manner. "I killed people to be here. I know that. I did terrible things to be alive. I know that. I don't care. I enjoyed it."
"I don't need to stand here and defend myself to anybody. You can feel as guilty as you want; it doesn't change the fact that you're standing here while 23 other kids aren't. Whine, complain, blame, I don't care. But don't you ever dare pretend like you're above us."
His steely gray eyes stared into Willow's brown ones with a terrifying conviction. A few seconds passed. He saw a touch of hesitation, maybe even fear before she pulled her arm away and stormed off, muttering something about sociopaths to herself. Elmer shot Argus an apologetic, if curious smile, then followed her out.
Argus looked at the Victors from One. Glamour was staring at the ground with a face filled with apprehension, but Octavian met his eyes with a wide-eyed smile.
"It looks like he's got fangs, after all." He raised his glass. "Alright kid, it'll be fun seeing you around." Glamour nodded at Invictus, then the two of them exited.
"Kid, he says." Cassius snorted. "What a prick. He's a year older than you and already putting on airs." He turned to Invictus. "Why do we let those stuck-up pigs around, anyways? Always primping and preening like a pair of blonde peacocks."
"They're victors, Creed," Invictus said sternly. "They're one of us. All of them." The older Victor put his hand on Argus's shoulder. "Don't mind Willow, she's just bitter that nobody pays her any attention. They'll all see your greatness eventually. You handled yourself like someone from 2 should. I'm proud of you."
His works stuck out to Argus. He was proud of him. Argus had never heard that before, especially not at the community home where he had been a burden at best. His emotionless demeanor showed a rare crack as a smile broke out onto his face. Somebody was proud of him. He wiped his shimmering eyes.
"Let's sit down and have a quick drink."
The three men stayed there until long after the sun set, talking and sharing their ideas for the future.
Author's note: That marks the end of our Meet the Victors episode (At least, the first one)! Canon kind of writes me into a corner with the first five Games, mostly because there isn't really any derivation between the arenas and the Games are apparently so boring that they start to fall out of favor by ABOSAS. The way I've been compensating for this is by avoiding focusing on the Games themselves. It's a run that will last until 11, so I hope it's to your liking.