I sat with my arms folded atop the table, the gentle rock of my nervousness swaying me back and forth as my mind raced through a dozen different questions, all of them prying trying to expose something deeper, darker than the last. I knew, I knew that the Capitol's reach was long and far, their grasp inescapable but the fact that I'd been chosen over the multitude of other boys in my District? That proved it. The omnipotent, President Snow with his hard eyes and false smile was fooling no one with his act. Of course he wasn't confined to that chair with wheels, not in the way he would have us believe at least. He'd known. Somehow he'd known, that I'd knew what was really going on, I had seen beyond what was meant by him to be witnessed, I knew the truth.
Slowly laugher began to trickle it's way out of my lungs, in slow thrilling notes that confirmed that yes, I was still here, I was well awake. Gripping my forearm momentarily I squoze hard letting my nails bite deep into my skin to confirm it, just in case. No, there could be no denying it now. I'd been Reaped, and was on a bullet train speeding it's way from Thirteen to the Capitol. A rain of bombs, that's what they gave us, my Distinct, a rain of bombs that came knocking at our door. We thought we could hold out, believed we could have won, our propos, our spies and soldiers, what did it all amount to?
Nothing. We were so smart tucked away with our nuclear arms but how far, how wide did those arms reach? How high did they pull us out of our grave? The answer was that they hadn't, if fact, they'd buried us and now Thirteen was no better off than the other twelve, worse perhaps even, after the culling it had received.
"Rain of bombs." I muttered scornfully, turning away from the window and laying my head down on my arms. It's what we should have given the Capitol, what Thirteen should have given them long ago but we were cowards, too afraid of our own salvation to do something about it. If it'd been up to me I would have wiped the Capitol clean from the face of the Earth no matter the cost. The price of freedom even freedom bought with your own death is worth more than a single moment subcome to a will and a power that is not your own to command.
"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!" This time the laugher snorted out of me in an uncontrollable gut clenching bursts. It was what everyone said the atom bomb did after all, turned everything and everyone into ash. Well, if I was already Ash there wasn't much harm that it could do to me, could it? I snorted again, caught up in the cruel irony of the world.
Someone cleared their throat and the clatter of dishes meeting table filled my ears. Looking up I met the even blue gaze of my mentor, her name was Autumn Trest, and she was the third Victor since the restitution of the Games. She had long blond hair, a gentle smile, and an affinity for knives. But right now she was looking at me with the same guarded suspicion, and wistful but tempered hope my mother would. In fact, a lot of things about her reminded me of my mother. I mulled over this considering if this was a part of their heretical scheme or not, when it spoke.
It fumbled at first beginning with 'Miss,' then 'Miss Trest,' before finally sighing defeated and muttering, "Autumn, he's scaring me."
The thing that sat before me must have been and engineering marvel. It was small and petite with large sorrowful grey eyes, and thin but pouting lips. Shorter and thinner than me by far despite the supposed age difference this creature, this "Violet" was perfectly assembled to lull anyone into a false sense of security. Trest nodded with a light smile completely fallen victim to the innocuous guise. But I knew better, knew the Capitol's game, funny given where I was headed, but if they believed that everyone was a puppet with strings to be pulled whenever they liked they were wrong, and I was determined to prove to them exactly how I'd discovered their invisible hand in a supposedly random act of drafting Tributes.
It's name was what gave it away, this doppelganger, or nonhuman being. Violet, Violet was the name of my sister and perhaps the only person in my family who cared for Flame, our brother, and me. Giving my District "counterpart" my sister's name was as if holding the up a brightly colored sign declaring the Capitol's direct involvement and intent.
It was probably their greatest mistake in my Reaping as it fanned the blaze that was my determination to win and make a fool of them. I loved my sister dearly, it was trouble with Peace Keepers that had caused the rift between my parents and I, for them to send their sons to live out on the streets. Yet it was Violet who snuck us back in, housed us in the attic and brought us things like food and supplies.
See I would have been fine with living in the gutters if it hadn't been for Flame, he was the only person in the world who saw things even remotely close to the way I did. He was the only one who could see the thin but deftly interwoven lines of the spider's web that raced from the Capitol across the continent and into the daily lives of every soul in each and every District. I worried for him constantly, begged our parents to return unto him the status of beloved son, but they refused, sighting us as mad, and dangerous before Violet came to grant us salvation. For my sake, and the sake of my brother who they voted to die however, I hoped my parents were right.
I was still staring at the "girl" who smiled a sheepish, dimple lined smile at me. When it was clear that I had no intention of making friends or of even politeness Trest intervened.
"Come here sweetheart," she said sliding Violet out from her seat at the table. "Why don't you-" the woman went on, eyes darting around the car as she tried to find something occupying for the thing to do.
The escort who seemed as equally inhuman as the girl perked immediately at overhearing the conversation. "She can sit with me!" the bejeweled woman sang, an expressive grin carving its way through her smooth, dyed face continuing to sight how much she loved her first set of Tributes everz and how well she planned on doing as an escort. "You look like a positive angel!" she crooned loudly using both hands to smooth down Violet's chestnut hair when it reached her.
Trest and I had to drown out the squeal regarding dimples as she sat down across from me hands folded neatly. "Well?" she asked arching a brow.
I mirrored her position and demeanor. "Well," I said. "Tell me everything, everything that you know from the Games. How do I win? How do I get Snow?"
Trest recoiled, her hands falling flat to the table before sliding off. "Snow?" she asked her voice falling.
"Yes, Snow." I said evenly. "There's a reason he chose me, and I'm going to make him regret it."
Fear, the confusion flickered over the woman's face before her expression softened and became something more pity filled, and gentle. "Oh, I see." she murmured before regarding me a minute longer. "I can tell you all I know about the Games, but you're on own with the rest." her eyes darted around the room with suspicion before landing me with a sympathetic gaze and muttering something about the steep decline in medical treatment in Thirteen since its reclamation by the Capitol, and the needs of the mentally ill, using my mother's words like paranoia and schizophrenia, but I couldn't understand why she would bring up such things.
Getting down to business Trest began telling me about her experiences in the Games and her kills, becoming teary at one point, talking about her own guilt and remorse, saying that in many ways winning in the Games was worse than dying in them by far. It made little impact upon me, but from what I could gather the most useful items one could obtain would be a knife and rope. The rest, the sentiment, all went out the window because clearly I had figured out the one thing she had not.
There was only ever one actual human child in each of the Games, the rest were all Mutts. Trest shouldn't have felt guilty about anything. She was human. I could tell by the way she breathed, and the movement to her eyes, fluid, subtle even, rather than the swift jerking motion the Mutts, Victor or Tribute had about them. My mother expressed concern when I first voiced my opinions to her, assured me that I was misinformed. That this was all some elaborate punishment for crimes less than half of us had committed let alone no one from my generation. Furthermore that it began as punishment for a war that took place nearly one hundred years ago.
That was just ignorance. What this was, was a jest, a mockery. Yes it was to make us feel alone, helpless, powerless, to make us realize that we are all subject to the ever powerful Capitol and the whom of President Snow. But it was also an insult, providing that we were worth less to the Capitol than engineered nonhumans, than Mutts. And I had plans to show Snow exactly what I thought about his sense of humor, prove to him that I could see through his web of lies and controlling ordinances, that I knew what he was doing, and what the Games really meant.
I grinned staring at the 'positively angelic' Violet as Trest shot a worrying look between us. "That one first." I murmured with a grin, reflecting on the Capitol's arrogance in giving it my sister's name.