11 things that changed in the 11th Games
Escorts
"Well isn't this lovely! Welcome, one and all, to the eleventh reaping ceremony for the Hunger Games. Oh, this is just wonderful! One lucky young man and woman get the opportunity to come to the Capitol and change their lives! I'm sure Ray..." "Rye." "Rye would just love a neighbour!"
The young man sighs, watching the twittering idiot at the stage continue to speak. When he'd been dragged off from the family share and told he was a Victor now, he'd expected some kind of extra tax. Something that accurately reflected killing children for no reward. Not the praise of a Capitol for a man who deserved none, the new house and the money and the safety from work.
The worst part, though, came six months later. Six months later, when a young Capitolite (How old could she be? 19, 20?) came to his shiny new front door and announced that she was Fulvia Summerworth, here to ensure the sanctity of the Reaping system and escort the tributes to their destination. A possibly unnecessary suggestion, in Rye's opinion, after all what was wrong with what had come before.
Fulvia had, however, given him one pertinent bit of information. The bombshell, as it were. Namely, that mayors had been rigging reapings. He wasn't sure if he believed it, but he had no evidence to the contrary. That it wasn't a coincidence the reapings, for all the districts, had contained a higher than average number of cripples, and drug addicts, and unproductive members of society. That there was issues, and that was why Mayor Breen wasn't here for the reaping ceremony this year. He'd be replaced of course. But for now, the simpering woman on the stage was all Rye had as he sat in his chair, waving when it was his turn before pulling a glove on and heading to the two great bowls on their pedestals.
"Barleya Clemens!" A sniffling twelve year old, wiping her nose on her sleeve. Rye sighs. This is going to be more difficult than he thought.
"Durum... Sower! I just love your district names, they're so quaint!" Fulvia might have meant it as a compliment, but the collective hiss from the crowd was enough to silence her. Without further ado the tributes, chased by Fulvia's brown hair, darted into the Justice Building.
Visitation and Volunteering
"You damned fool! What were you thinking?"
Octavia Mainwaring had been told her job was to watch, not to interfere, but hearing the yelling from inside the room guides her in a rush to the door, standing outside it and listening to the conversation taking place within.
"I swear, a year and you'd be making your own life. Nice cabin, ten hours a day work, and that girl hanging off your arm. And you fuck it up." The young man sitting on a chair is staring at his yelling... father? Uncle? With a cold eye. When he speaks, though, his tone is measured. Like you'd use to a child. "And what? What could I get? What could I offer Casey that she wouldn't get if she begged her Da?"
The slap that rings through the room forces her to rush in, hearing Peacekeeper boots behind her as she speaks. "No! No! Stop!"
The man eyes her with a cool disdain, it's only the armed Peacekeeper behind her that keeps Octavia from running out of the door in a panic. Keeps her from shouting at the man, rather speaking calmly. "That's not what this meeting is meant to be for. Don't you want to say goodbye to your son?"
The man shoots her an evil glare at this, tempered by the Peacekeeper behind her. Even so, she can feel the hate rolling off him in waves. "Nephew. And I do want to say goodbye, but he's making it damned hard."
The boy smiles at her. She likes him already. "Sorry miss, but I volunteered. Ash Redgrave, yeah?" Octavia nods.
"And my Uncle isn't too damned happy. Thinks I shoulda just stayed. But I saw what Montmartre, and Ler, and the rest got. A lifetime of luxury. I want that, so I'm going for the crown."
Before the man could complain, the Peacekeeper stepped forward, seizing the Uncle's arm in a grip a bit stronger than necessary. "Come on, now, mate. No need to cause any trouble. Your time is up."
He receives a smile before Octavia leaves. Linden is crying in the other room, after all, and someone needs to visit her.
Train rides
"So."
The man's voice is slurred as he looks at the children. Licinius Markham doesn't want to do this, but he's been given a job to do and he's been paid well enough for the privilege that Licinius is willing to let the little munchkins learn a thing or two. Still, he won't force himself to be sober for it.
"I'm bad with these things. Names?"
"Cotton Palmer and Calypha Ward, sir. I'm from the Runners, Caly is from the Community Home. Do you..."
"No, no, no." Licinius waves his hands. "The audience knows you're from Eight. Specifics, and they get confused. I, I, I."
He hesitates, and Cotton's face falls. "Fifteen, and... twelve?" "Yes, sir." "Good. Cale, I want five things about you. Twenty seconds, go."
"My, my, my." Can't make it twenty seconds. Calypha can't even make it five seconds before collapsing into tears.
"Kid, you're going to need to get better at this. Baird won because she was able to play the hearts of the Capitol like that guitar of hers." He tried to be nice, but now Calypha's just crying harder. Ignoring her for a second, Licinius turns on Cotton with a smirk, watching the boy place his hand on his companion's shoulder.
"Palmer. 5 things."
"I work in the factories after school, I love the spring rains because they clear the air, I'm grateful to the Capitol for..."
"Time."
Sighing. Licinius is sighing at the look on the boy's face, even while he's offering both children a glass of water and urging them to sit. "Kids. I get what you're doing. It's scary, being up on a stage like this. I did my first school play a few years ago, and I was terrified. But if you do this people won't want to sponsor you, and then you can't win."
Calypha, through her teers, manages to choke out a complaint. "Who'll want to sponsor us if we won't win! We won't win! We're not big, or strong, or."
Fuck. On his list of priorities, calming down a hysterical girl was one of them. "Hey. Hey. You don't need to be big or strong. Ruby won, and she wasn't exactly the strongest."
Caly isn't calming down, at least until he pushes a glass of orange juice in front of her, and she looks down at it. "Whassis?"
Capitol above, these District lot are tiring. "Orange juice, Calypha."
Caly takes a sip, before handing the glass to Cotton. Slow enough for Licinius to intercede, handing the glass back to Caly. "No, no! This is all for you, Caly."
"All?"
"All." He takes the liberty of passing a second glass to Cotton, pouring a third much larger glass for himself before spiking it with something the kids don't need to or do see.
"District Eleven produce. All for you, ok?"
They nod. "Ok, Mr. Licinius." Nice kids. Polite. Shame, really. "Licinius only will do fine, kids. I'm not old emough to be a Mr."
The three laugh, and he feels a twinge of sympathy, before burying it with another toss of liquid down his throat.
Mentoring
"Well isn't this lovely!" The blonde swept forward, embracing Criollo in a brief interaction, before stepping back to offer a smoothly pale hand. "Ruby Montmartre. Victor, 2nd Hunger Games. Sorry for interrupting the boys club, but I put my share of work in." She giggles, already getting on his nerves.
"Of course, Miss Montmartre." "Ruby, please. We're colleagues, first name basis, ok Criollo?" "Ok." Jaw set, they begin to do the rounds. Jackson's dead, of course, they were told that, and Baird's disappeared. The rest are here. Rye, frowning as he nods and promises Criollo that they have a lot to talk about. Nutmeg, sitting at the table for Six with a nod and a glance to Ruby.
Bellator and Marble, both lounging on a curving sofa, offer their own greetings with a pair of tight nods. They'll get acquainted later, even while Ampere holds a glass in one hand and a handkerchief in the other and steps into Criollo's sight. "Ampere Smith, Five. Good to meet you, Criollo. I expect we'll be seeing a lot of each other."
Criollo's saved the question of asking what's in the glass by a bronzed young man who swaggers up to him, motions slightly off as his hand is seized in a rough grip. "Oceanus Ler. District Four. Good to see you made it, Taylor. Beginning to think you weren't going to arrive."
Muttered denials are met by a smile a little too wide. "No, no, no modesty here. You're a Victor, Criollo. As much as any of us. Survived. Now, how're your kids looking this year?"
"Well, well." Criollo's jaw is set. His kids are doomed, Oceanus has to know that. "They're both fourteen."
Oceanus offers a sigh of possibly real sympathy. "Sorry to hear that, mate. Shame, that, two little kids. I got a mixed bunch. Scallop, bit of a loose cannon. Friendly enough, but when the going gets tough I'd bet he runs like a snapper. Mags, on the other hand. Good girl. Strong, believes in herself, she's like a shark. Ruthless, as well."
The man tightens his grip a little, and Criollo winces. "If it is one of mine, though, they'll make sure it's quick. Four's honour." Ruby, Bellator, Marble are all training kids. Everyone's heard the rumours coming out, what with that set of weapons in Marble's garage and the blonde Ruby was tutoring in 'dance' and the boys filmed trecking to Bellator's garden. The implication from Oceanus, however, leaves all three of them glaring in concern at the man, even as he offers a cool smile.
"No hard feelings, guys. Just the Game. I'll celebrate whoever, ok?" A begrudging acknowledgement of this is made, right before Ruby returns with a tray.
"Coffee, anyone?"
Training
They were beat up. Perry could see that. A small cut and a much larger bruise on Wattson's temple, a plaster on the back of Tara's hand. Still, they were both smiling. That's a start.
So Perry lurches forward, and takes a quick once-over of the group. "You well? The hell happened down there?"
Tara responds with a tittering giggle, smiling. "We're fine, Ampere. Just a few hard knocks is all. Watt got busy on the knife station, and one of the trainers there got him with a club."
Warrson nods, voice a little tired. "Yeah, they got me good. Still, I learnt a lot, so really who won?"
Perry can't even bring it on himself to complain, to tell Tara and Wattson that when they're preparing for a death game there's no room to mess around. "So, you two got up to anything useful or just messing?"
Tara rolls her eyes. "We're not making it. We're having a bit of fun. But I did look at the edible plants." A sigh from Perry. "Oh, you looked at those, did you. That... what was there?"
"A load of berries. Grapes. Some flowers. Nothing like home." Perry nods, knowingly. "That makes sense of a kind. Anything else?"
"Not really... There was a swimming pool. Does that?"
He nods again, considering the kids. "Use it. If it's there, it's there for a reason. Ok?"
He regretted that advice, watching Tara get chased down by the fisher girl, shimmering trident through her throat. Watching the tentacles wrap around Wattson, dragging the boy to the depths.
Proper interviews
"So, Lexie. What have you enjoyed most about our city?"
The little girl, only thirteen, looks at her escort, behind the scenes, blanching. The man ignores her, in favour of talking on his handy. Shame.
"I, I, I." Lucky glances at his cameraman, flashing that trademark smile as he returns to the girl shivering in her chair.
"Chin up, Lexi. In two weeks, you'll be back here. Or dead."
Laughter from the handpicked audience, and Lucky.
"So tell me, Miss Lexie Wainwright. What do you do for fun?"
"W-well, I don't really have much time."
"Not much time!" Taken aback, almost appalled, the interviewer leans in with conspiracy in his tone.
"I have it on good authority that working regulations are maximising District Six workdays at ten hours a day. That leaves eight for sleeping, two for meals, and therefore four for having fun! Isn't that right?"
The glare from the cameraman leads to a stuttered admittance. "Y-es? I... Umm."
"Come on now, the world's watching. Everyone who has television, at least."
"I see my friends. I sometimes go and look at the pretty dresses in the window in the shops?"
Lucky nods, considering this. "And Lexie, I think that's a good hobby. Means you can appreciate the lovely dress Tigris made you, doesn't it?"
Before she can get more than a 'Yes' out, a blue light flashes above the camera and Lucky stands.
"Lexie Wainwright, thank you for joining us! Next up, from District Six, Carter Monaghan.
A much better arena
"And that's Mouse Verne of Three, raising out of the ground on her pedestal. All credit to the gamemakers on this one, they've done some marvellous work with what Three managed to produce. She's standing in the middle of a nice island, part of the shattered chains to the south of sunny Eleven."
Lucky Flickerman, on the screen, is watching with a perverse kind of glee. The arena this year, new and pretty, is ready for the tributes.
It's not too advanced. They have plans for the future, but for now the arena is confined to what the Gamemakers could put in in a year. Still, the tropical island complete with ruined buildings is perfect.
"And that's the timer, lets count down. Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight."
His voice is vibrant, brimming with expectations of blood and victory. Of course it is, who would look for anything else.
"And we're off! Mad Mags is making her way to the cornucopia, Terrifying Titania's just gone for Corduroy of Eight, and... Oh, that's not pretty, bad luck for Nine."
Both tributes from Nine had made a run for it. Hadn't got very far, before slipping into one of the many lakes that speckled the arena. Nobody saw what happened, after the two slipped beneath the water. Nobody really needed to see the aftermath, the thin film of blood peppered with chunks and what looked to be an arm was enough. The lakes weren't safe.
Starling, from Eleven, didn't get the memo in time. She was lucky. While a scream rang through the arena as something got her leg, a tug from her ally (Montgomery, of Ten) saw her get out of the water with only a chunk missing from her calf, and a pair of circular, ragged wounds. Without missing a beat she gives him a quick one armed hug, before the pair disappear down a ledge and headed towards the city ruins.
By the end of the first fight, seven bodies lay on the ground, and six children glared around the cornucopia in a rough triangle. The blonde girl and brunette boy from One, swords in hand, the well built boys from Two and Seven, and the fisher children from Four. None willing to give in, or make the first move.
It was Scallop who made the first move, his step closer mirrored by the rest. This draws a nervous laugh, and before long they've grouped up, taking turns at the Cornucopia. Laughter is thrown about, even as the groups maintain their three separate bunches. Before long these bunches are more relaxed, and the six have formed an Alliance. How long this will last, though, remains to be seen.
Better sponsor gifts
A hologram appears on the screen later that night, Lucky taking the time to explain what it is as a drone slips quietly through the air. Not silent, not this early, but quiet enough that it was nigh unaudible to the tributes on the ground below.
It's bearing a gift, one it lets drop and a silver parachute blossom from an attachment hook. It bears a trident, a fishing spear, one commonly used by District Four. Nobody's quite sure who it's been sent to in the studio, but the pair on watch can guess. A hand reaches up, seizes the shaft of the spear and holds it aloft so the world can see that yes, it was meant for the girl from Four.
The games are over now. Nobody knows save for Mags and maybe Oceanus, but they are. Now well armed, the fisher girl and quarry boy awake their allies, before going out to hunt.
Later that same night, other parachutes are descending, borne by drones. A pair of apples, meant for the girl from Seven currently nestled in a tree. She catches the rope linking the two bags, and sits back to eat with a crunch.
The smiling alliance below her by morning explains to her oblivious escort why apples were so cheap when most other food was so expensive.
A small knife for Chip from Three, because of course a lanky thirteen year-old is going to have the muscle mass to use such a blade effectively against other young children. He stabs down into the small body, again and again, before shrieking and running off. Scallop's first on the scene, sword out, eyeing the mangled rabbit with concern.
Not all gifts are so useless, though. The mentor from Eight, for instance, sends his girl a set of ropes. Not, off the top of anybody's head, the best gift, not when weapons and food and most importantly water are on offer. Still, when Caly ties herself like a bat into a tree, and watches the pack stumbling below her in the early morning, the smug smile on Licinius' face draws a grimace from everyone still in the room.
Such a shame she fails to adequately secure herself when she wants to get down, sleeping bag landing on the ground with a brutal noise even before Tiara from one runs over and jabs her rapier into the bag, drawing a cannon shot.
Feasts
The alliance has broken, much to the chagrin of several of the individuals involved in it. Ruby and Bellator are sharing a drink at the bar of the mentoring centre, lamenting together over just how much their tributes could have gone on to do in Victory had they not had the misfortune of dying. A morbid discussion, but not one anyone can fault them for under the circumstances.
The mentors, those who still have children, are sitting at the screens, anxiously watching how this will play out. Everyone knows this can only end one way, and everyone knows that a week in there'll be no second chances.
Which is why Perry (filling in for Ten) watches the boy he's kept supplied get taken down in seconds, a shimmering blade in his gut as the boy from One says something about tree animals. Why Nutmeg's glaring as his boy tries for the small package with the number 1 on it, and gets dropped by a trident. Perry gives a smile at this despite himself, ignoring the One pair glaring at him from the bar.
Why Oceanus watches the spinning trident with dispassionate eyes. Gives a little clap as it sinks into the chest of a Seven who was waxing lyrical about his girlfriend. The cameras flick to one Acacia Brewer, screaming and grasping at her father as he turns her view away from the body, a regretful look in his eye.
The games end unceremoniously. Scallop turns, sword in hand biting into the thigh of the girl behind him, but by that point it's too late. The only difference it makes is the three prongs sinking deep into his chest, instead of his back. He drops in seconds, the cannons firing soon after followed by trumpets over the airwaves.
It's not a ceremonious victory, but it's one that is a victory nonetheless. Nobody complains, and Oceanus claps his hands. An avox soon walks over, carrying a tray of shot glasses filled with some yellow liquid. He takes one, and the rest begrudgingly take theirs, before the liquid is thrown back as one, even if an escort splutters and spits it out.
Victory Interviews
"So, Mags, was there any point at which you didn't think you could make it?"
"No, Lucky. I was certain I'd make it, and with Oceanus providing fabulous support in the mentoring centre there was no other way this could have gone. Honestly, my only regret was not getting it over quicker. I'm sure I've missed at least one episode of my show!"
The canned response draws a laugh. Rye had gone over it with her, made sure she was ready for any of the questions Flickerman would throw at her. Going over it in a hospital gown, though, was a lot different from now. Now, when Mags was sitting in a stunning blue dress and heels, and two hours into three hours of talking. Well, it wasn't exactly the same.
Additionally, Rye had at the least been polite when talking to her. Lucky, Lucky seemed to have little empathy for anyone, regardless of the tone. What's worse, the crowd absolutely adored the statements Lucky was making, regardless of the horrific nature of them. Yes, the little girl from Eleven couldn't well climb with a leg like she'd had. Did that merit Lucky describing her encounter with Mags' alliance as the world's worst game of tag? No!
"So, Mags. Why did you have such a talent with your trident? Not sure we've ever seen anything like that before."
Spluttered denials, promising she didn't have any specific reasons. A photo of a young man, hair a honeyed brown and skin tanned, stares down from the screen, Lucky leaning in with faux curiosity
"Did it have something to do with your brother, Miss? He certainly tried in the Sixth, but he'd hardly made good decisions."
"I, I, I." The camera's light fades to black, and Lucky stands. "Thank you, thank you! We'll be back after a short break, I've." A coin falls onto Mags' lap, Lucky chuckling. "Beel Lucky Flickerman, host of the Hunger Games."
Allies
By the time she'd made it backstage, her peers were waiting for her.
Ruby, pressing a glass into her hand and smiling when Mags sputtered at the minty taste. Hardly what was needed, at the moment, but with Nutmeg trailing behind before peeling off to pull off journalists, and Bellator angrily confronting a pair who'd tried to intimidate the Capitol driver. Well, Mags was content to sip her drink and let the others do the talking.
Finally, with eight in the car, the doors slammed and the wheels sped off. When they got out, the ninth was waiting for them.
Marble, stepping forward with regret in his eyes. "Sorry. Sorry. I should have known, even before. Well. I should have warned you."
Surprise is on his face when Mags wrapped her arms around him, and he reciprocates. Her voice is soft, a little sad. "You did nothing. Avenged him, maybe. But it was Ruby's girl who did it."
A startled "Hey!", and Mags continu es, pulling back from Marble. "But we all killed. All of us left, anyways. Holding grudges, dividing ourselves, what good would that do us?"
Perry nods, the first of several. "True. Your point?" A sigh from Mags, and Oceanus watches the group as she continues. "We need to get along. So... an alliance? Like in the arena."
Voice gathering more strength she continues. "Arena stays in the Arena. Outside of it, we need to get along. Hate each other all you want." The younger victor gestures, Bellator and Marble trying and failing to mimic a look of disgust. "But we're all victors. Don't harm one another, let the past die."
Nutmeg steps forward after a moment, nodding. "Of course, of course. We need to get on, right guys?"
A battery of nods, and one by one their assent is voiced. This done, Oceanus smiles, opening the door back to the Training Center.
"Well, then. Who's for cake?"