Thank you to Paradigm of Writing, Grim Apocrypha, Dante Alighieri1308, Very New To This, yoyowhitehole and Skeekiest for the reviews! Means a lot to have people continually supporting this story.
Heads up - this chapter's a bit beefy compared to previous intros. Tipping the scales at like 3.5k I think the final count is? Long for an intro but both of these guys had a lot to uncover haha!
No further foreword on this one - let's get right into District 5! Enjoy!
Dilemma, noun: a situation in which a difficult choice has to be made between two or more alternatives, especially equally undesirable ones.
Life was full of them. Logistical and ethical and moral and whatever-else-ical. They lurked around every corner, waiting for you to let your guard down before they pounced.
Tonight was no different for Kairos Fomalhaut. In fact, Kairos knew this particular dilemma quite well. It had a name. There was theory behind it, tucked away in literature that hadn't seen the light of day in centuries.
CREAAAAAAAAK
It's name? The Prisoner's Dilemma.
"Tobias?"
Kairos calls out as the entrance to his resting place swings open upon rusted hinges.
"Kai." The voice that answers is strained. Stressed. Taut, like a fraying string about to snap in two.
Kairos sighs, tucking a piece of paper into his back pocket.
"Come in." Kairos calls back, but Tobias is already inside. Approaching rapidly. The moonlight reflects off of something on Tobias's face. Kairos only realizes when he draws closer that they're tears. Soft, pale light reflects from the liquid running down his dear friend's face. It's a strange combination. Tears are usually associated with sadness. But Tobias looks furious.
"Are you FUCKING kidding me?" Tobias starts, his hand quickly finding the collar of Kairos's shirt. "You... you motherfucker. You're gone, without a fucking WORD to any of us for a fucking week, and you call me out here NOW? Do you know how fucking stressed Bart has been? He's getting old, Kai - his heart can't take the shit you're putting him through. He thinks you're fucking dead." Tobias spits, his words laced with a sharpness that cuts deep.
"Tobias-" Kairos begins, but he's quickly cut off.
"I'm not done." Tobias speaks sternly, reigning in his emotion for the time being. Taking a deep breath, he speaks. "I'm turning you in, Kai. I'm sorry. But the Head Peacekeeper came by today. He wants a name. Nearly killed Bart to get one, but he wouldn't give you up." Tobias's grey eyes meet the dark brown of Kairos. "But I will. Tomorrow morning, when they all clock in for duty. I'm sorry, but it's for the benefit of everyone. Your stupid game isn't worth our lives."
"Tobias." Kai grabs his friend's hand with a surprising strength, causing Tobias to tense up. But Kai quickly recognizes the situation he's in - a dilemma in Tobias's own mind as well as Kai's own. He loosens his grip and drops Tobias's hand, soon finding that this was indeed the right call. Tobias finally relents, releasing Kai's shirt and waiting for him to speak.
"After the reaping." Kai says simply, earning a quizzical look from his friend.
"The hell are you on about, man?" Tobias snaps, the anger creeping back into his voice. What was all this for? There was so much emotion in the room. So much pain that Kai's stupid game had caused. A game of spare or sacrifice, much like the one they were playing now.
"Wait until after the reaping." Kai repeats, sighing in defeat. "I'm saying you can 'sacrifice' me, okay? Just... wait a bit longer. I've got a request for you first. Follow me. Please."
The moment is tense. The air between Kairos and Tobias feels almost electrically charged, but eventually it's Tobias who relents.
"Fine. I'll humor you one last time. Get moving."
With a nod and a strained smile, Kai steps away and opens another door, wincing slightly as it creaks open just like the last one had.
He was surprised nobody else had found this place yet, if that was how it sounded every time it opened. Tucked away in the deserts of Five, over some hills and past the vast expanse of nothingness laid an old silver bunker. As remote as the location was, it was perfect for Kai's favorite things. The stars in the sky shone bright and clear, the light pollution of the inner city left far behind. Once there had been a telescope, too, rusted and covered in layers of dust and webs. It no longer functioned, but it was still one of Kairos's greatest treasures. A remnant of the past, he was sure. From when the stars and the skies were humanity's to explore.
It was the perfect place to get away from it all. The perfect place to hide things.
"You remember our treasure hunts?" Kai speaks as he walks, taking a right through the winding hallways of the old research bunker.
"Is that relevant right now?" Tobias speaks again, causing a twinge of annoyance within Kairos.
Just a little longer. He tells himself. Tobias will understand soon.
"Yeah. I want to show you what I'm planning. One last one before I'm arrested or flogged or killed or whatever."
Tobias only responds with a grunt, and the two continue forwards, until...
"Here. Check it out." Kairos speaks plainly yet again, throwing open one final door and entering the room. Like the rest of the bunker, it's absolutely coated in dust and grime. The air feels stale and it's almost palatable, causing Tobias to retch as he enters the room.
Bending down on one knee, Kairos produces a key from his back pocket - the same one that holds the paper he'd been writing upon - and slowly inserts it into the old chest. He gives grunt of effort as he turns the aged key, and with some elbow grease manages to pop the lid to the trunk. Inside lies the bounty he wishes to share.
"Fireworks?"
"Yeah. I told you.. uh, my brother used to light 'em off all the time. Figured I don't have any use in hoarding them anymore." Kairos cringes internally at his own words. It's a mistruth - not a lie, but his motives were much less altruistic than he claimed. The Fomalhaut family had used them for another purpose, long, long ago.
"...Yeah." Tobias echoes silently. "Yeah. That's fine."
"One more thing." Kairos now produces the paper he'd been writing upon, before promptly tearing it in two.
"What are you-"
"One half of this," Kairos begins, his patience beginning to wear a bit thin. "Is a riddle. A hint to find the chest. Take that, please." Kai hands Tobias the first half of the paper before continuing. "The other half is for Bart. Please... deliver it to him. Tomorrow morning, before the Reaping, so I know he has it by the end of the day. After that, you can report me. Do whatever you like. Like I said - I'm willing to play the sacrifice here. Just like in Circuit Six."
Tobias scoffs. "You should have never made that shit up. Look where it's gotten us - playing your dilemma-game in real fucking life, Kai. Fucking sad." Despite his disparaging words, Kairos is internally pleased when Tobias snatches the paper from his hands anyways.
It was all set in motion, then.
"That's all. ...Thank you, Tobias. For everything."
"Right. Goodbye, Kairos." Tobias's words are curt. It's clear that he wishes to stay no longer. Without another word, he exits the room, hands clutched tightly around both of Kairos's letters.
When he hears the footsteps fade, he breaks into a bleak, cynical grin.
Tobias had never been good at Circuit Six. It was spare or sacrifice. Trust or betray. Tobias's move here was clear. Kairos was to be the 'sacrifice,' so that Tobias and Bart and the rest could get away scot-free. But Kairos had his own plan.
Circuit Six had been a simple game. It was based around people looking out for their own best interests, with undertones that the Peacekeepers had found distasteful. But Kairos had always wondered. There were more options on the board. You didn't just have to spare your opponent or leave them to the wolves.
What would happen if a player chose to sacrifice themselves before their opponent could do it for them?
Yes. He'd be beating Tobias in this game of his one last glorious time.
"Prepping."
"Prepping."
"Cracking the firewall..."
"Breach confirmed."
"Depositing trojan."
"Virus successfully injected."
...
"Firewall back up. Location being pinged. Pull out, Ruth."
"Already on it."
Blitz takes a moment to enter a quick command into the box that's prompting her. Her fingers fly over keys illuminated by the glow from the screen in front of her, the rest of the room nearly pitch black. It's over in seconds. Her pinky finger flies towards the enter key, and the second it's pressed the screen cuts out. White text appears in the top left corner.
Wiping virtual machine. Deleting system.
Come on, come on, come on.
Deletion complete.
A sigh of contentment is the only indication that Blitz Rutherford feels proud. Kicking her legs outwards, she sends the chair she was in rolling backwards. Her arms are folded back and behind her head, and a pleased smile is across her face.
From above, she hears a loud, whooping cheer, and then thundering footsteps that move across the ceiling, then off to the side, and then down some stairs. She can hear every step of her partner-in-crime approaching and remains unfazed as he bursts through the door leading to her room, an expression of sheer glee on his face.
"Bit of an underreaction, huh, Ruth? Not even a cheer?"
Orin Bellows scampers in with all the grace and composure of an untrained puppy, but Blitz couldn't deny that it was endearing. It helped that he was a whiz at his job, too, serving as one part of their two-pronged technological attack.
"We just knocked out 3,000 government and business devices in the B-Sector of the Capitol. That's where the Gamemakers work. Shouldn't we be jumping for joy right now or something?"
"Knock it off with the 'Ruth.' I hate that codename." Blitz replies calmly, unfolding her arms and waving a hand in the air. She stands herself up from her chair, turning now to face Orion. "We're not on comms anymore - your headset's still on, by the way." Blitz taps at her own ear to indicate the headset and microphone still atop Orin's own head. He mirrors her movement, raising his own hand up and rapping his knuckles against hard plastic. With a cheeky grin and a hearty laugh, he removes them, tossing the device behind him onto a spare office chair. Despite her harsh correction, she feels the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"But you're right. Cause for celebration. Bet the suits and soulless execs in those offices right now are throwing a hissy fit."
"That's the spirit." Orin agrees. It was quite the funny image - a man in a gaudy, out of place suit rising and screaming until his face turned red. Next to him, a woman with a shrill voice shrieks about her internet cutting out.
What kind of work did they even do in those places? Besides prepare inhumane methods to kill little kids, obviously - but what else? Anything that was productive to society? Anything that served beyond the scope of their hellish entertainment?
Blitz and Orin had come to their consensus long ago. No, nothing important went on there. So cracking into the system once every couple of months and booting a bunch of the overly indulgent suits and ties offline and away from their busywork was often a fun way to spend the day. When things went well, like today, the two of them would usually go celebrate. Pick up some food, enjoy the night after the hot summer day had finally cooled off.
"You feelin' steak tonight? I've been saving up."
Blitz perks up at these words.
"I suppose I could let you treat me."
Orin rolls his eyes, but relents.
"Whatever. As long as you help me pick it out, I'll call it even." Orin jabs a hand outwards, the tip of his pointer finger extended and directly level with Blitz's forehead. "But you're paying next time."
Blitz fakes pondering the request for a moment, before ultimately 'deciding' to go along with Orin's deal.
"Agreed." She says, as if she hadn't made up her mind already. A long time ago, Blitz had believed that she didn't need anyone. People weren't her deal. Computers were easier to talk to. You gave them a command, and they'd execute it, no questions asked. You tell a person to sabotage some Capitol technology, they'll look at you like you'd just clawed your way out of the looney bin. You ask a computer, and it doesn't even question you.
Perhaps the rebellion should invest more into their technology.
Orin, though, was an exception. His outgoing nature had put her on edge at first, but he'd quickly proven useful with his coordination skills and ability to keep track of Blitz's commands. Yes - that was why she hung around him so often. He was useful, in the same way that computers were. They helped her succeed. Brought her to her end goal.
And maybe it was nice to talk once in a while. To see a warm smile instead of cold metal. To be heard. To eat a nice steak. A computer certainly wouldn't have fed her - but what was hunger but another need to be fulfilled? Orin was a necessity, not a luxury. An important tool.
That's what she would keep telling herself, anyways.
"Let's get movin', then, partner. I ran the numbers after you told me the plan. Should be approximately 48 hours before they're officially back online, if they're usin the systems we think they are. Gonna throw a real wrench in the logistics of tomorrow's reaping."
Orin, once more, slams the door open, earning a hard yet mildly amused look from Blitz. With a sheepish grin, he props the door open, giving an exaggerated bow as he suggests she exits first. With a roll of her eyes, she obliges his request, and strides from the room with purpose. Orin saunters behind her, one hand jammed into his pockets while the other pulls the door shut. The lock clicks, and then all is silent.
...
vrrrrrrmmmmmm
The computer whirrs back to life.
New Protocol: Access Breach. GAVIA retro-active tracer initiated.
Tracing IP...
Virtual Machine detected. Deciphering.
Pinging location...
Location: District 5 - Solano Street. Unit 3-15.
Devices: USERID: 15485493 and USERID: 24950842.
REGISTERED TO: . . .
B. RUTHERFORD
and
O. BELLOWS
Information forwarding to H. Gavia...
Forwarding...
Forwarding...
Information successfully forwarded.
Initiating re-wipe sequence.
Blitz usually slept well on Reaping nights. With her father an engineer and her mother a power-plant worker, their combined salaries provided a level of comfort not afforded to many in the Power District. Blitz did not have to worry about tesserae. Food was plentiful and it was never even considered an option. She was fairly certain her mother would faint on the spot if she ever even mentioned strolling near the Justice Building while the program was active.
Rin was not yet old enough to enter the Reapings. Even when he did, he wouldn't be taking out any tesserae, either. Orin, too, was well off enough to avoid it. The Reaping was always a dull affair, for her. It was always a face she didn't know. Someone she didn't care about. Perhaps that was cruel, but they lived in a cruel place. She was just happy that it didn't affect her.
But today, Blitz couldn't shake the feeling that something was dreadfully, unequivocally wrong. She hadn't slept a wink last night. Her head spun and she saw little lights dancing in front of her eyes. Her palms twitch and her entire body shakes with the lack of sleep. It was only one night, but it feels as if she's been wide awake for five.
The feeling is only intensified as Five's escort approaches the bowl. He's about to draw a name when a Peacekeeper - the Head Peacekeeper - rushes to his side and halts him, an urgent expression across the man's face.
Blitz watches with worry as he cups his hands to the escort's ear and stays there for 7 seconds. She counts each one of them. She sees the escort's eyes go wide and his mouth pucker into a little 'o,' surprise and intrigue and even a bit of worry present on his face, though he does his best to conceal it with a gloved hand over the mouth.
And then, his hand finds the bowl. He doesn't dig or sift around, as many before him had. He simply reaches in and plucks from the top, unfolding the slip of paper with a surprising lack of grace.
"Orin Bellows."
No. No, no, no. That... that couldn't be, right? Orin. He was her frien-
Her most useful tool. She couldn't afford to lose him.
"I volunteer!"
The voice sounds from the crowd almost immediately. The escort on stage looks even more shocked, now, as an older boy is already striding out from the 18 year old section. Immediately, she notes a contrast. The boy had volunteered - taken the spotlight. And yet, his outfit is plain - as if he wishes to avoid attention. How could one even call it a Reaping outfit? It looked like something Orin would wear on a casual day out. Curly brown hair flounces about with each powerful stride, a disarming smile plastered across his tanned, freckled face.
The escort still appears at a loss for words.
"Are you sure..?" He asks, glancing nervously towards an equally exasperated Head Peacekeeper.
"Of course I'm sure. I've heard the rules, don't worry. I know what I'm getting myself into. No takesies-backsies once I've said it, and no other volunteers. I'm totally screwed, right?"
"I-" The escort stammers out, before the mic is quickly repossessed by the brave (or potentially very stupid) volunteer.
"My name's Kairos Fomalhaut. Kind of a mouthful, though, so just call me Kai. I'm savin' one of you this year. Orin, buddy, whoever you are, count your lucky stars. And I-"
"That will be QUITE enough." The escort huffs, wrestling control back from Kairos as he attempts to screw up their ceremony even further. Mic feedback echoes throughout the square as the two squabble over the device, but eventually the battle is decided when a group of Peacekeepers pull Kairos back, a satisfied grin upon the face of Five's volunteer.
"Nice seeing you gents again. Betcha wish I was staying around."
He's promptly silenced with a rough hand over the mouth.
"Now... the female tribute for District Five..."
This time, the escort barely even looks at the bowl, reaching in absent-mindedly, glancing down at the strip of paper, and dropping it right back in.
"Blitz Rutherford."
Blitz's eyes go wide and her jaw goes slack. She barely even registers herself making her way up to the stage. There's no volunteer for her. She isn't shocked. She wouldn't have volunteered for any of the other girls, either.
But both Orin and herself had been reaped. She couldn't get that out of her mind. What were the odds? How did that happen? Two children with no extra slips in the bowl, pulled right from the top of the pile?
No.
Blitz was sure.
It was not a coincidence.
And there they are! So, clearly, I was very wrong about 'no more volunteers.' But I think Kairos has a solid reason - it's either try to survive in the Games or probably be shot and killed by Peacekeepers. Talk about a rock and a hard place. How's that for a dilemma, Mr. Kairos?
Speaking of rock and a hard place - I want to give a small heads up here that updates for the next 1-2 weeks may not be as fast! Real life, as it often does, has smacked me in the face with many problems all at once. Car troubles were the first, but those are all good for the moment (600 USD later haha). My mid-term exams are also sneaking up on me, though, and my focus will definitely be diverted for a bit. I haven't gotten to start pre-writing like I normally do for D6, so it'll be a tad longer of a wait for the next chapter. I'll do my best to work quickly, though!
Boring shit out of the way, let's get back to our lovely tributes, Kairos and Blitz! Thoughts, comments, concerns? Personally I think 'Kairos' is a really cool fucking name so props to yoyo for that one. Anything in particular about them that catches your eye? Let me know what you think about them!
Until next time (hopefully not too long),
logangster out!