CHAPTER 12 - OVERHAUL
The pounding of her heart was the first sensation Bliss became aware of, upon waking. She took panicked breaths, and her eyes shot open.
Fatigue mixed with her anxiety, making her more confused. As her heart pounded against her ribs, she saw gold stars.
"Bliss?" Harlem's voice said.
Bliss pulled her hair into her face. Still black. That was a good sign.
"Bliss, hey, look at me." Harlem nudged her chin, bringing her eyes to meet his.
"You're safe. Breathe. Please." Harlem urged.
She forced air into her lungs. The stars started to retreat. Bliss felt coolness envelope her hand, and Affy wound her metal fingers through hers. Harlem kept talking to her. Afflatus' rubbed circles into her hand. Bliss' panic retreated as her heart rate deescalated.
"Do you want some breakfast?" Harlem asked, eventually.
Bliss couldn't make herself speak, instead shaking her head. Afflatus' phone buzzed.
"I'm bringing you some fruit and coffee. Pick at it, please." Harlem said.
Bliss nodded.
"I have to get back to the mentoring room. The final battle is going to start soon." Afflatus said.
Bliss nodded again, slowly.
"Stick with Harlem. I'll come check on you later." Afflatus said.
Bliss gave her a small, smile, but still said nothing.
…
It was still night, far too early for the final battle. Afflatus had received an invitation to the Presidential Mansion. Ice pumped through her veins, the terror reserved for his acquaintance. Nothing good came of face-to-face visits with the leader of the country.
Afflatus steadied her shaking body as she exited a taxi, and walked up the grandiose staircase to his mansion.
An avox escorted her to the President's meeting quarters. A couple rooms over, Afflatus could hear a party roaring. Her stomach clenched. The avox motioned for her to sit down. Afflatus complied, sinking into a plush chair, crossing her legs. She clenched her upper arms, trying to ground herself with the pain.
"Afflatus." The President said, entering the room.
Afflatus instinctually rose, and curtseyed. The President nodded, and she sat back down in the chair.
"I was hoping we wouldn't need a meeting this year." He said, ominously.
Afflatus nodded, keeping her eyes trained on the ground.
"Do you know why you're here?" The President asked.
It was a trick question, asked to find out if she'd admit to anything, if she'd break.
Afflatus found her voice. "I'm sorry, sir, I know Lustre hasn't behaved himself." She didn't add that she did her best to manage him, excuses unwanted. She looked at the man while she spoke, then respectfully returned her eyes to the floor.
"That's part of it." The President said, waiting for her to continue.
Afflatus wracked her brain. She'd gone to all her assignments, she hadn't be insubordinate. The President sighed in disappointment when she couldn't produce an answer.
"I've received complaints. Take off your clothes." He commanded.
Afflatus stood, and did so immediately, without a second thought.
She striped from the waist down, underwear included. She pulled down her top to expose her breasts, then stood still.
"I said, take everything off." The President sounded angry that he had to clarify.
Afflatus burned with humiliation as she took off her top, exposing the cuts on her arms and stomach.
The President tutted.
"Afflatus, I know you're familiar with the rules. You are favoured, but I own you. You should know better than to damage my merchandise." He chastised.
"I'm sorry, sir." Afflatus breathed out. She couldn't stop herself from trembling in his presence, naked and afraid.
"Will you accept your punishment?" The President asked.
"Of course, sir." Afflatus said, the words burning her lips.
"Come." The President said. She started to retrieve her clothing, but a look from him stopped her. She followed him, naked.
The President led her into a room of party-goers. Their pupils were blown, their makeup and clothing disheveled. Their appearance checked out; the late night and early morning blurring together without sleep, hopped up on Panem-knows-what.
All eyes fell on her, immediately. Most looked at her hungrily, some recoiled in distaste. She was paraded around, humiliated.
Some party-goers left, unnerved. The ones that remained looked fascinated, and horny.
"Take care of them." The President instructed.
"Yes, sir." Afflatus said.
He left.
The group of predators descended on Afflatus, poking at her wounds, asking her questions, making her touch them.
She let her brain float above her as everyone lost their clothes.
Afterwards, she was taken to the beauty centre.
The stylists berated her for marring her perfect skin. They removed her wounds, regenerated her skin, and when she left, she looked brand knew.
She didn't think the loss of her scars would hurt so much, but they were the last shred of autonomy she had over herself. Now, that autonomy was gone.
Afflatus didn't let herself sob, but she couldn't stop silent tears flowing down her face as a taxi escorted her to the training centre; returning her in time to monitor the final battle.
…
Bliss felt cooped up in her apartment. She didn't want to see anyone, she didn't want to talk, but the seconds stretched out in solitude, passing too slowly.
Earlier, Harlem asked her if she wanted to play cards in the D11 apartment with him, Violet, Rhea, and Aramid. She wouldn't have to talk, or participate, but she could hang out.
She wasn't ready. She shook her head until Harlem stopped asking.
Bliss walked to the elevators, and rode down to the empty tribute training room. The duality of the room created an eerie aura: dead silence or chaotic commotion.
She tried to imagine Basal and the D6 kids learning to build a fire, or sorting through edible plant cards. It did little to ease her mind, but if she tried hard enough, she could picture him smile.
"Hey, pretty lady." A voice said behind her.
Bliss whipped around, and came face-to-face with a gamemaker that had given her too much attention over the years. Nothing had happened, but she hated the way he touched her and held her at events, any time she was in his presence.
Being alone, in a dark room with him was the last place she wanted to be. Bliss started to back away, slowly.
"You know, you could have come to me for help with Basal." He said, dangerously. "He didn't have to suffer like that. I could have had him killed in the bloodbath, or soon after."
Bliss didn't know what to say, but she knew her face portrayed fear. She continued backing up.
"Think about it. If you need my help with another tribute in the future, you know where to find me." The gamemaker smiled at her, then faded back into the shadows.
Bliss sprinted for the elevator, made it back to the D7 apartment, and hid under her bed sheets.
She popped several pills, and let unconsciousness overtake her, not wanting to acknowledge the terrifying conversation.
…
Afflatus entered the training centre, disconnected from herself and her emotions. She felt like she was floating as she made her way to the monitoring room.
The remaining career victors, D1's Plush Armani- mentoring Serena, and D2's Prism Efflorescence- mentoring Aran, didn't look at Afflatus as she entered. Both were younger, winning after Afflatus.
The mentors couldn't seem to shake the dressing-down Bliss gave them, confusion and shame replacing their usual excitement. These weren't normal Games.
As Afflatus settled into her station, Plush said, "They haven't woken yet. The sun's about to rise, though. Should be over soon."
Afflatus nodded distantly.
"Are you okay?" Plush looked at her with concern, something she didn't usually see from the D1 victors. He was young, though, and hadn't been completely indoctrinated into their post-Games ways yet.
"Yeah. Fine." Afflatus rubbed her arms, careful not to scratch, lest she 'damage the merchandise.' She couldn't stop a big breath from blowing past her lips.
"Nervous for the big battle? Or… did something happen?" Plush asked, stupidly.
Afflatus shot him a look, there were things that were never supposed to be discussed in the monitoring room. Plush backed down, focusing on his own screen.
The sun rose, a heavenly aura over the arena. Pinks and blues and oranges pained the sky, it was one of the most beautiful sunrises Afflatus had ever seen.
The careers began to stir.
Serena and Aran were cautious around Lustre as everyone woke, even they appeared to be disturbed by Basal's end. There was no friendly banter, just preparation.
The remaining three tributes returned to the white cornucopia, in the middle of the lush field decorated with white rosebushes. An acceptable stage, for the end of the Games.
Serena and Aran turned on Lustre.
His wits were sharp, though, and he dodged a blow from Aran.
"What the fuck, man?" Lustre said, surprised.
"You're not leaving here alive." Aran said, menacing, hateful.
"Why the sudden change of heart, bro?" Lustre asked, camaraderie gone.
"You brought dishonour to us. Your actions reflect on all the careers, and most of all, your district. You know that, but you did what you did, anyways." Serena chimed in, anger seeping into her tone.
"Guys, it's the Games. I was having fun." Lustre said, brash. "It's not my fault Basal was a pussy."
Aran sharply inhaled. "You crossed the line."
Lustre scoffed, and drew his sword. "Fuck you, man."
"You already tried that, remember? I told you to get lost. Dumb whore." Aran replied.
Lustre lunged for Aran, and the battle began in true.
Serena and Aran worked together, trading strikes and blocks with Lustre.
Lustre was equipped with two long swords, and fought mercilessly.
Afflatus had never seen him fight in such a manner, even back in D1 when he was still a student. He'd been at the top of his class, then, but he was even better now.
It was like he'd waited the entire Games for his chance to shine, and his eyes glowed with excitement, ensnared by war.
Aran fell first, a sliced carotid. A cannon boomed.
Lustre and Serena fought head-to-head.
Every contact from their blades cut deep, metal moving too quickly and furiously for shallow wounds.
Lustre lost four of his fingers on one hand, and let out a battle-cry, continuing the onslaught of violence.
Serena took damage to her legs and arms, lacerations cutting to the bone in some places.
In the end, Lustre's reach gave him the advantage he needed to win.
He flicked his sword over Serena's inner thigh, and severed her femoral artery.
Within seconds, she collapsed to the ground, bleeding out.
"They're gonna make you pay." Serena looked towards Lustre with hatred.
"Maybe. Probably not." Lustre said, over-confident.
Lustre beheaded Serena, with one final swing of his sword. A cannon boomed.
Enoch Albano, host of the Hunger Games, spoke over the loudspeakers laced throughout the arena.
"The Victor of the 50th Hunger Games is Lustre Elysian, of District 1." Enoch declared.
Lustre smiled, beaming towards the sky, looking like he was on top of the world. He relished in the moment, empowered, impenetrable, infinite.
He didn't bother to staunch the blood flowing from his severed fingers.
Lustre puffed up his chest and roared in victory.
…
Afflatus stared at her monitoring station, mouth agape.
No.
The fucking menace actually had become victorious.
Plush tried to say something to her, but Afflatus couldn't understand.
When Serena and Aran turned on Lustre, Afflatus thought for sure that she'd be free of the boy.
But he'd been too powerful, moving incomprehensibly fast, strikes unfathomably accurate.
Lustre was a perfect killer.
Shaking, Afflatus disengaged herself from her monitoring station. Still, she couldn't hear what the other mentors said to her.
Afflatus fled from the room, ran to her apartment, and locked herself inside her bedroom. Luckily, the other D1 victors were out- at a party, likely- so they weren't there to witness her panic.
She'd never be free from her monstrous tribute-turned-victor.
Brutal humiliation and hopelessness coursed through her mind, at the thought of interactions she'd already had with him, and what would happen in the future. What punishments would await her when he stepped out of line again?
She thought back to the President's mansion, just another circle of hell. It was as if the circles of gluttony and lust had combined, and consumed her whole.
The staggering weight of the Capitol's control pressed on her chest, stealing her breath.
Her hopelessness morphed into violent anger.
She destroyed her room, everything in sight. Mirrors, pictures, dishes exploded into splinters of glass and ceramic. She yearned to draw the sharp objects across her skin.
But she wasn't allowed. Afflatus had been cut off from her outlet, and now her anger had no where to go.
She stalked out of her room and began trashing the rest of the apartment. The kitchen was first. She smashed the walls with cast-iron frying pans.
The living rooms and the dining rooms were more fun. The rooms contained so many extravagant accessories, so many things to destroy. Lamps, statues, vases, candle holders, furniture- if Afflatus could lift it, she broke it.
An avox watched her passively, always present in the D1 apartment. So took care not to send any shrapnel their way.
When there were no more communal rooms to destroy, she started on the other bedrooms. There were ten others, not all occupied.
She almost felt bad about destroying their personal possessions, but at the same time was glad to send a message. She didn't care for any of the career tribute's behaviour this year, and she let them know. Tales of her rampage would spread like wildfire amongst the mentors, and she hoped her warning did, as well.
Afflatus would kill everyone she came across, if the rage inside her didn't fizzle.
She was still angry when there was nothing left to destroy. Still violently angry.
Afflatus screamed in frustration, unable to provide herself relief, unable to draw her own blood.
She reached for a bottle of clear liquor. It burned going down, but she enjoyed the pain. After several chugs, the alcohol blanketed Afflatus' anger. It was still there, just hidden, now.
Afflatus sunk to the ground, amongst the wreckage, and kept drinking.
Her empty guts clenched upon contact with the poison, but Afflatus kept drinking.
She drank until she couldn't see straight, until the world spun around her.
Afflatus vomited a couple times, then passed out.