Thanks to owlthewriter, Dani H. Danvers, critixu, AstralKnight98, Very New To This, & AlexFalTon for the reviews! Almost at 400!
Enjoy!
Chapter XXXIV The Victory Tour - Districts 8 - 5
District 8
The Peacekeepers searched for a month for anyone who could possibly represent Blakely Katz for the Victory Tour and came up empty handed.
Just as Wren wanted.
It was easy enough to disappear in the urban sprawl of District 8. Dark alleys between the massive apartment complexes, old factories lost to the elements, even cellars and basements where hordes of forgotten people made their home. There were cameras all over the District, but Wren had come to wonder how many of them actually worked. Most looked quite old and she never saw anyone working to maintain them. A show of control perhaps, and nothing more?
Wren had wanted to stay lost, but for the Victory Tour she forced herself out of the shadows and to the Justice Building. She was tightly bundled in a blob of stitched up clothes and old blankets, a common outfit for the homeless and vagrants of 8. Nobody gave her a second look as most treated the homeless in 8 with disdain, like being near them would infect their families and drag them out into the street – a perilous position for most with rents increasing every year. Wren didn't mind though, happy for the attention to be off of her.
It was even nice standing in the crowd that gathered outside the Justice Building, taking in the warmth of others. She had no community anymore, not that what she had before the 59th Hunger Games was anything as positive as "community." It was a place with a roof over its head though, and there was Blakely. The love of her life. It was good enough for someone like her.
Then… Blakely volunteered to save Wren's life. And Damon went crazy.
Crazier than usual, Wren conceded. He abducted her, locked her deep in his "fort," told her that if Blakely died, she'd be dead too. He even let…
Wren buried those memories. It didn't matter anymore. Damon was dead and his gang shattered into remnants who were still bleeding each other out for control. Damon had played his hand too far, thinking himself immune. Showing up for the Goodbyes to no taunt Blakely had drawn the attention of the Peacekeepers. They showed someone as pathetic as Damon what real force was, tearing down his gang and home, arresting him, and swiftly executing him. It was the Peacekeepers yearly "good deed" to show the order they kept.
Wren had enjoyed watching him swing from the gallows. It was a shame he didn't beg, cry, or shit himself, but you can't get everything you want in life.
There was no snow in 8 that day, but the wind was still biting and below freezing. The clear sky and sunlight helped a bit, but everyone looked at the Victory Tour stage with a fair bit of envy, noticing the number of heaters on it. Victor Rothschild was certainly enjoying them though they seemed hardly necessary for him. He was dressed in an obnoxious fur coat of some exotic, unknown animal, his golden Victor's crown reflecting the sunlight and blinding the District at times.
Despite having nobody to represent her, Blakely's image was still above the stage. Raveni's was opposite her's, while his whole family stood huddled up. The heaters didn't bother to help them it seemed, or maybe it was just grief.
Wren wasn't even listening to the speech, eyes fixed solely on Blakely's. Wren had been freed from captivity by the times the 59th Games started, just in time to watch the Career girl from 2 slice Blakely's throat open to the bone. It was an image Wren would never get out of her head, nor the fury that Blakely died thinking Wren was going to die as well.
'I'm still here, Blakely.' Wren thought, hoping there was something after death and Blakely could hear her. 'I'm still here.'
It wasn't much of a life, but it was still a life.
And you never knew what the future held.
The Peacekeepers kept the Capitol's grip firmly in place, but the Head Peacekeeper knew when to allow the District to breath a little.
Month prior, when the Games had concluded and the bodies returned to the District for burial, the entire Weave stood outside the Peacekeepers compound. The Head Peacekeeper knew he should listen. The people of the Weave were borderline religious, a concept anathema to Panem, and one never knew how passionate they could get.
Thankfully, their demand was simple.
"I wish…" Mrs. Algernon began, barely able to keep her voice from cracking. "I wish to give my son his death shroud."
The Head Gamemaker had granted the request and allowed Mrs. Algernon into the compound where the coffins of District 8's Tributes had been kept. She found her son inside one, the color gone from his face and body cold to the touch. She was forced to hold back her tears, knowing her time was limited, and she held Raveni for the last time, wrapping him in a quilt made by her own hand, and laid him down gently in his coffin. The shroud was lovingly made, with thick material to keep even the coldest body warm. Mrs. Algernon closed the coffin lid, bid farewell to her son and luck on his next journey.
Before she left, she went to Blakely's coffin and did the same. In death, she too would be honored. And so, both Tributes were lowered into their graves, wrapped with the blessing of the Weave and the support of the District.
Months later, the Algernon's were set to meet the Victor, the boy who had so casually harmed their loved one and left him to bleed out.
Raveni's siblings had their own plans for him.
Months prior to Rav's Reaping, they had found a little cell in their District work with. A network of grieved parties who wished to bring down the tyranny of the Capitol. Among them had been a man who lost his child, Cara, in last year's Games and provided them with a syringe. The blade was cuffed around the wrist and could ejected out, stabbing the person who's hand one shook with poison.
Tasha wore it for the two of them, with Nemus next to her for support. They stood on the Victory Tour stage, listened to the Victor prattle on, all while planning.
Once back in the Justice Building, they were intercepted by their mother.
"I know what you have." She whispered to them. "Don't. This will not change anything."
"H-how?" Tasha whispered back, shocked to have been found out.
"I've known for a year what you two are involved with." Mrs. Algernon told them. "Do not make me lose another child. I will shake his hand."
So, Tasha and Nemus were forced back and it was up to Mrs. Algernon to greet her son's killer. Victor Rothschild shook her hand, lingering longer than typical.
"Your son left behind a shawl for me." He told her.
Mrs. Algernon's eyes went wide. "For you?"
"It was addressed to the Victor." He clarified.
"What did you do with it?" She demanded.
Victor Rothschild's face was carefully neutral. "It's hanging in my mansion back in 1." He informed her.
"So it still exists?"
"Yes."
Mr.s Algernon accepted that. She had thought this tattooed beast would burn it or disgrace such a sacred item. As long as the shawl remained, a part of Raveni remained as well. "Then hold onto it. Honor him. For you have no other way to. And people have long memories. Generosity now maybe save you later.
Victor Rothschild looked bemused. "What a riddle." He commented. He left after that, putting the woman's words out of his mind. Mrs. Algernon remained behind while Nemus approached.
"You should have let us, mother!"
Mrs. Algernon shook her head. "That's a dead boy walking. He'll get what's coming to him." She replied, confident in the messy end that awaited the Victor.
And she should know. For death was her speciality.
District 7
"Heel! Heel, dammit!"
The hound refused to obey Bernie, a running theme for her as she failed to follow in her older brother, Wolf's, footsteps. The hound twisted away from its leash, spinning its neck and body and dragging Bernie forward. The muddy ground, wet from snow and the mashing of dog's paws, was deep in front of her and Bernie's balance less than stellar. Her foot sunk into the mud, causing her to shift off balance, and she fell forward in the freezing mud, the yapping of dogs around her sounding suspiciously like the laughter of hyenas.
Bernie remained in the mud, crying. It was all too hard.
Not that the Peacekeepers would care.
"Get up and tame that bitch, bitch!" One shouted to the laughter of a few moonshine drunk Peacekeepers. It was a favorite joke of theirs, awful like the rest of them. Still, Bernie rose, knowing what failure meant.
"Yes, sir!" Bernie called out, wiping mud from her face. Her fingers were frozen, so cold that forming a fist felt like she might shatter them. 'For Rhett and Arnie.' She told herself. Everything was for her remaining younger siblings.
She chased after the dog with the leash, who now thought it was all a game and began to run off, barking at Bernie to encourage her to chase him. Bernie was in no mood for it though and roughy grabbed the leash and pulled it back, causing the dog to yip in pain and fall backwards.
"Yeah! Show 'em who's top bitch!" Another Peacekeeper shouted to the chuckles of the others. Red faced, cold, and exhausted, Bernie ignored them and took control of the leashed dog, dragging her back to the Peacekeepers.
"Where to?" Bernie asked, out of breath and holding back tears. She looked up at the Peacekeepers who weren't giving instructions. The jig was up when one of them snorted and laughed.
"Oh… right. I guess the boss didn't want the dogs." One of the Peacekeeper said. "It's the Victory Tour today! How could you possible forget, bitch?"
More laughter and Bernie wished she could kill them all. Or let one of the mutt dogs loose on them. Maybe one day when her younger siblings were older – and only if she had a plan. One of the Peacekeepers, the ring leaders of this little bunch, stepped forward, swaying a bit from drink.
"You're so dirty." He told her, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her in, sliding his arm around her waist. "You can use the barracks shower if you need before the Tour."
The dog was jumping up on both of them but the Peacekeeper didn't seem to mind, face too close to her's. The others were giggling and Bernie endured it, hoping her siblings didn't see. She ordered them to remain inside and these days her temper was flaring. They didn't dare oppose her anymore. She thought of anything else than the Peacekeeper on her… and one of her unofficial "jobs" to keep the Frays living in their heated home with a steady, well paying job.
A sharp whistle freed her from the clutches of the Peacekeepers and drew them to attention. The Head Peacekeeper had arrived, having promised to personally lead the Fray family to the Tour. He ignored his belligerent charges though, focusing solely on Bernie.
"What's with all the mud, Ms. Fray?" He asked.
"Just… playing with the dogs, sir." She replied quickly. "They have some energy this morning."
"And who wouldn't?" The Head Peacekeeper asked. "A beautiful winter morning! We don't have days like this back in 2. Savor them, Ms. Fray, because they're fickle."
"Yes, sir." Bernie replied tightly. The Peacekeepers were returned to the barracks and Bernie to her home, where Rhett and Arnie were already dressed for the Victory Tour. Their father was too, passed out on the couch. His liver had gone bad from the drink and he was barely functional, it wouldn't be long until he was gone too.
Bernie looked around the room and began sobbing.
This was life now.
Would it ever change?
The Victory Tour took place on a beautiful winter day in District 7. The Tour began in front of the Justice Building, where pine trees covered in snow surrounded the area and snowcapped mountains surrounded it. There wasn't a cloud in the sky either. Even the temperature was cooperating and the wind had died down as the entire District stood before the Justice Building and listened to the 59th Victor give his speech.
District 7's attitude towards Victor Rothschild was all over the place. For one, everyone knew Werifesteria was a serial killer who probably would have kept on killing, all while protected by the immunity that came with being a Victor. On the other hand, a victory in the Games would have meant a years worth of resources and benefits for the District. The beauty and good weather of the Tour was an oddity. So far, it was shaping up to be a rough winter for the District and many felt the need for the comfort those monthly supplies would have guaranteed.
One person who's mind was definitely made up was the Head Peacekeeper of 7. He had ordered the whole District to be in the best of moods and punishment doled out for anyone who wasn't. The Head Peacekeeper had watched the 59th Games with growing concern. First, when Werifesteria scored an eight in training. Then her off putting interview. Then she didn't die in the Bloodbath. Then she killed a Career and got sponsor love! And when she had survived the Sour Island forest fire, the Head Peacekeeper had been shitting bricks. The wave of relief that crashed into him when Werifesteria was stabbed through the head still soothed him. In fact, he was so pleased with Victor Rothschild he had ordered a bottle of confiscated moonshine to be forwarded to his train cart as thanks.
After his speech, the Head Peacekeeper pulled Victor Rothschild aside to thank him. "Happy to help." The Victor told him with a smile. A more perceptive person would have seen how forced it was.
"She was a little demon who deserved every moment. Do you think she suffered long? I hear a hit in the head can be hit or miss with the nerves. Either it cuts off immediately or lasts. She was twitching for a while, huh?"
"I couldn't really see her twitching on behalf of the melting flesh." The Victor told him. The Victor had meant it as a joke, but it hadn't sounded like one. The Head Peacekeeper took his cue and backed away, complimenting the Victor on his victory and let him go.
That was all the attention Fest would receive from 7. Her name would be remembered across Panem for generations to come – a monster in the arena who almost cost the personable Victor Rothschild his title.
But for District 7, only the ghosts would care for Fest's death.
District 6
The Peacekeepers were out in full force the morning of the Victory Tour. They busted down doors. They tore through run down apartment complexes and empty train depots. Every inch of the District was searched to finally discover the menace that had terrorized District 6's Peacekeepers ever since the end of the 59th Hunger Games.
The Head Peacekeeper had been in an uproar that morning, screaming at his officers to find the producers of the filth and shoot them on the spot. He gripped the offending article in his hand, holding it so tightly that its contents couldn't be made out by the others in the room.
Unfortunately for him, everyone one else in District 6 had awoken to it and continued to get a chuckle at the Head Peacekeepers expense. Printed on cheap paper and by what had originally been the District gossip rag, was a comedically take down of the Head Peacekeeper who, in printed cartoonish form, was on all fours with a dog collar on, licking Victor Rothschild's feet with the speech bubble of "Ooh yes *slurp slurp* anything for you daddy Rothschild *slurp**slurp*". President Snow stood over the both of them, giving the Head Peacekeeper an approving pat on the head.
Artem was quite proud of his work as he walked down the streets of 6, overhearing bits of conversation and jokes from the others. 'Exactly what Dallis would want.' He thought proudly. His younger sister's death in the Games hadn't shattered him but given him purpose – honoring her in a uniquely Dallis way.
Stirring shit up.
Sloane and Damon were quickly on board. They had loved how much of a powerhouse Dallis had come off in her interview, refusing to give the Capitol any tears or an inch of weakness. The death had been horrifying, especially the hours and hours of glee the Capitol took from a "unique" death by Muttation. The trio was eager to tear shit up to honor Dallis.
So, they began on the Head Peacekeeper.
Gossip had been Dallis' trade but they learned the tricks too. And it didn't even have to be true with the Head Peacekeeper. Funny comics, direct insults, it all worked. They'd almost been caught in the first month, but after that it had gotten easier. It turned out the Peacekeepers were utterly inept at actually investigating anything. And nobody in 6 was going to give them an inch.
For the first time in his life, Artem actually felt something akin to District pride. The people of the District didn't know him. They didn't even know Dallis. They didn't suffer as he had, didn't have to rationalize how he'd never get his sister's body back. It had been lost to the wyrm, digested in the thing's stomach. But even so, the people rallied around any chance to stick it in the eye of the Capitol. He appreciated that.
'And it's only the beginning.' Artem knew. Ideas poured from his mind to paper, ways to diminish the mystique of the Capitol and the Peacekeepers. Higher rhetoric, appeals to humanity… useless. But everyone understood mockery.
And the Capitol could never truly conquer that.
He walked up the steps of the Justice Building, putting on a sham show for the Victory Tour. He passed the Peacekeepers, who seemed to be sweating through their white armor and clothing.
Artem smiled. 'We'll make them sweat more, Dallis.' He spoke to her. He never believed in ghosts, but for Dallis, he would. He trusted in his sister's spirit.
And it wouldn't be like Dallis to go quietly into oblivion.
Colorado stood on the stage along with the rest of his family, eyes pointed down. His wife, Freya, stood next to him, hand in his and arm wrapped around him. Albany was nearby too, utterly depressed by the moment. Next to them, his mother was alone and also downcast. They had spoken little in the months that followed. Freya had encouraged her husband to keep speaking with her, reminding him of their shared grief and the importance of family.
'You're my family.' He would tell her, but he would relent and still visit her. The Chase home was chilly now though. Diesel had added so much light and taken with him to the Games. Empty halls and silence filled the place now. The laughter had died with him, never to return.
The speech by Victor Rothschild was the normal one, praising the Capitol and the Tributes of that year yada yada. Colorado had tuned the vainglorious prick out. The District by and large was apathetic about Victor Rothschild too, mored annoyed that yet again District 6 hadn't produced a Victor. Scattered applause erupted when his speech finished and the Victory Tour for 6 was done. There were quite a few people snickering though during the speech, glancing between the Head Peacekeeper and Victor Rothschild in delight. Colorado enjoyed that at least.
But it had nothing on what came next.
Victor Rothschild turned to the Head Peacekeeper standing nearby, still within microphone range. "Bring the car around. I'd like to head back to the train quickly." The Victor instructed him with casual command.
"Yes, Victor, whatever you say." The Head Peacekeeper replied, loud enough to be caught on the microphone.
It was close enough to the incendiary art of the day to strike and start a fire. The audience burst out laughing, recalling the image. The laughter was coming from everywhere, clearly broadcast on television and inescapable. The Head Peacekeeper's face was beat red while Victor Rothschild looked at the audience with a raised eyebrow.
Colorado looked out over his peers, fellow Districtmen, with shock. It quickly turned to pride. And… even hope. He and Albany looked to each other, smiles on their faces. An entire District, united in laughter in such a dark moment.
And if that wasn't quintessential Diesel, Colorado didn't know what was.
District 5
With wealth came privilege, and for the Windsor family – on that day – that had no issue with abusing it.
When Fallen Tributes were returned to their District, they were quickly interned in the Tribute Graveyard, a large plot of land on the outskirts of the main hub of a District where the Fallen would rest. Over a hundred bodies of the District's dead children lay in this graveyard – with plenty more space for Hunger Games to come. There were no exceptions to this rule, the Capitol demanded that all be buried there.
The Windsors had other ideas.
And an important ally to assist them.
Before their downfall – and then reascension to wealth – the Echeberría and Windsor heads of family had known one another in passing. And Victor Olivia, filled with grief over the Tributes who had died on her watch, was eager to help. Together, they pulled strings and paid bribes, and Teagan's body was recovered from the grave and moved elsewhere.
On the day of the Victory Tour, the Windsor family went to see her.
They brought gifts with them all, taking the District trolley and metro to the outskirts of the city and moving out into the open wilds of the District. They passed solar and wind farms – and even a few oil rigs, drilling for the last bits of oil in the world – until they reached a grave site, tucked near a mountain pass. Two graves and two bodies lay there.
Teagan Windsor and Valerie Windsor.
Niece and Aunt, together in death.
It had been Uncle C's idea, thinking that Teagan would most like to spend eternity next to her favorite family member. Everyone had agreed. Cordelle had also liked the idea of her younger sister being further away from the District, in the wilds and free from it all. It wasn't easy to reach, but neither of them would be disturbed.
It felt right.
The Windsors approached the graves slowly. "Todays the Tour, Teagan." Emilia spoke, looking at the grave. Nobody else could say much. Tears were shed, but also anger.
"I want to kill him." Teagan's father said. "Him" needed no clarification.
His wife took his hand and squeezed tightly. "You won't. For us." She said, though she wished to also cut into her daughter's killer and see his blood spill across the stage. To do so would be death. They had been told by the Peacekeepers that a parent had tried that last year and death was the answer for such an attempt on a Victor.
The Windsors had already lost two family members, they couldn't lose more.
Cordelle stepped forward and approached the grave. In her hands she held one of Teagan's favorite books on meteorology. "This thing could be used as a weapon, Teagan." Cordelle joked to the grave, holding Meteorological Phenomena of Pane and Adjacent Geographical Sights with both arms. She dug a hole in the ground and, when it was sufficiently deep, buried it just above Teagan's grave.
The Windsors stood in silence after that. Together, they swallowed their grief and rage, burying it deep in a dark hole inside of them that they couldn't reach until after the Tour.
Then, they went to meet Teagan's killer.
The anger was palpable from all angles as Victor Rothschild gave his speech. The District had taken its cue from Victor Echeberría who, never able to properly mask her emotions, was staring at at Casanova with revulsion. There was also great sympathy for the Windsor family, still popular in the District, and of course for the twelve year old Seph, who's death they all blamed the Victor for by virtue of him being part of the Career Pack. District 5 was also the first District that Victor Rothschild seemed affected by as he stumbled twice in his speech and was quick to remove himself from the stage.
The Aglais family was among those processing their anger, though not so much towards the Victor but their own family members. For anyone looking, it was obvious there was great distance between the family members and their eldest sons Simon and Ray. Rage and anger, all coalesced into one mindset, made things very uncomfortable for the family.
It began after the Reaping itself when sisters attacked their brothers. Lily and Klara were all rage towards Simon and Ray for not volunteering for their younger brother. Words were changed, feelings hurt, and the parents were forced into a role of protecting their children while also blaming them.
Then… Seph was killed. A Bloodbath, like all those smug Capitolites predicted. The wails from the Aglais cramped apartment could be heard for hours until voices gave out.
Nobody saw the Aglais for a while after that. When the children returned to school though, they brought trouble. One of the boys who had tormented Seph had approached Simon who, in turn, had pummeled the boy bloody. It turned out the boy just wanted to apologize. Simon didn't care. He was whipped by Peacekeepers as retribution, but the act caused more tension in the family. Nothing was really fixed and Simon and Ray soon started coming home later and then not at all.
The Victory Tour was the first time the whole family was together in two months. Once Victor Rothschild was gone, Mrs. Aglais pleaded with her sons.
"Come home, for today. Please." She begged.
Simon looked at his sisters. Lily had softened it seemed but Klara was still furious. Mr. Aglais was unreadable, having withdrawn into himself, not wanting to blame his sons for saving one son.
"Maybe another day."
"Please!" Mrs. Aglais begged and began crying. It was enough for Klara to step out and ignite a new argument, leading to shouting inside the Justice Building until the family was forced out.
Somewhere, the Capitol was laughing, gladdened by the division the Games wrought.
More unused story ideas:
1. The original Bloodbath count was going to be twelve. I had Diesel, Darley, and Ash included in it. However, that was VERY early drafts and I didn't like the idea of killing off those characters so soon.
2. Ash had several deaths planned for him. One was in the Bloodbath. Another was on the sandbar crossing. A third was tortured to death by Fest. And fourth was burning alive in the fire.
3. The fog on the Sour Island was supposed to turn acidic at night - thus requiring Tributes to hide in gingerbread homes throughout the island. However, you can't, like, do light acidity and I couldn't see how a) Tributes could survive long in acid fog and b) be able to quickly piece together they needed to hide in the gingerbread houses, so that got cut
4. Elegance originally survived the gummy bear attack. She was also supposed to be the Tribute who Maddie shot through th neck. However, the scenes weren't coming together and I didn't feel death by another Career was a good ending for Elegance
Up Next: Victory Tour Districts 4 - 2 & the Capitol
