District Two. The sole district to remain in the urban areas fully loyal, even if some rural populations decided conflict with the Capitol was a better choice than just putting their heads down. The sole district, after the war, to have a significant expat population in the Capitol, arms investors and some peacekeepers memorialized as especially heroic. Few families, ensuring children would grow up Capitol.
The fact they hadn't received a single victory in the first five years had sparked some disappointment, even as informal bookmakers continued to promise that this year, one of the big lads from the quarries was going to win. They were too bold, too proud, and every year they were cut down by another tribute.
Hence why, for the Sixth games, when another large 18 year old was pulled up on stage, nobody had any hopes it would go differently. Two was loyal, more so than any of the others even if that was a low bar to clear. They should be the ones receiving back children, not the rebel rabbles in 9, 10, 4. They wouldn't complain, that could be construed as problematic and Two was not problematic. They would, in private, hope that this year they'd be the ones to receive a child back.
This year, though, things were different. People were scared. The rebellion had scared a lot of people, and those fears had to some extent been hidden when the Capitol had secured a hard fought victory. Hence why, for the most part, Volumnia Gaul had been on board with fair reapings as a way to allow at least some chance. However, an attack at the train station, Rebels infiltrating the Capitol disguised as Capitol-bred peacekeepers returning for leave and gunning down almost a dozen Capitol citizens, had ended the era of relative calm. No more would President Ravinstill, at least for the next couple of years, let a child from an outer district take a win.
Which was why all the children, from 3, 4, and from 6-12, were between twelve and fifteen, and those from 1, 2 and 5 were all 18.
It was the first time the opening of the games could properly be called a bloodbath. The blades in the arena, axes and swords of all kinds, spears and even a bow, are put to good use. No drawn out kills, not like those that would come later when Fours and Ones and the occasional Two learn that deft knifework, or getting more inventive, gives them good reward. Not like the 15th, 34th, 61st.
What does lie on the ground, when all is said and done, are thirteen bodies. It's a record that will go unchallenged tor almost thirty years, and a record that means more Capitolians are glued to blazing screens than ever, as they watch the blood spill into the sand.
As the girl from Eight stabs at her district counterpart, sobbing and apologizing as she handles the knife without precision. As the boy from Two, eyes averted, thrusts his machete into a child who just wanted to go home. The fighting isn't efficient, nor is it pretty. What it does do is satiate a need that 115 deaths had yet to do, and another 115 more likely the same. Satiate a desire for blood, and ensure that for the next few years at least the city would not stop demanding games.
At the end, as could have been expected, there was a handful of tributes left. Both from One and Two, boy from the former whispering something to his district partner. They'd backed up against the wall, heavy spear and short sword in hands as they stared out at the arena. The Two pair was separate, and the boy from Four and girl from Eight were both waiting at their own wedges of the arena back wall.
It very quickly turned into a staring match. Nobody was willing to make the first move, not when all the others, even the little girl, were armed. The boy from One occasionally mimed throwing a spear, his district partner giggling, but didn't make any concrete moves. The waiting was agonizing, viewership dropping to the lowest numbers and a peacekeeper running back and forth, bringing reports to Dr. Gaul on the state of the games.
Eventually, though, something had to give. That something being the patience of the One Boy, miming a throw as he did a dozen times that hour already. This time with a release that heard a whistle, spear flying through the air and impaling the Eight girl with a hum. the pair rush over to it, girl covering her district partner's back. They're working well as a team, and even if they haven't been officially trained they have at the least had some advice.
Lucretia from Two, axe in her hands and brushing back blonde hair she'd failed to tie back, steps forward, engaging her district partner with a swinging blow Marble barely parries. Both the fighters are fit enough to wield the blades effectively, not skilled but clumsy swipes of a handaxe parried by a machete. It's enough, though, to inspire excitement, viewing numbers spiking in the Capitol as more people tune in. A lust for revenge is sated, has been for some time, now this is entertainment of a kind people don't wish to lose, entertainment which allows Capitolians to satiate their base desires.
The Two on Two violence continues in the background, in the foreground of most screens the view switching to a duel between the Ones, and the boy from district Four. He's younger, he's got little chance, but he's putting up a hell of a fight, his trident sufficient to fend off the pair coming at him for now.
A silver flash, and Lucretia is down with her head half off, at approximately the same time as the boy from Four hurls his trident through his counterpart from One before succumbing to a sword in his back. Two remain, eyeing each other, tossing words that could be described as flippant across the sand. Insults, threats, and faux-politeness, all before either of them has stepped forward. A game within a Game.
A step forward both take at the same time, machete clashing against sword, golden girl against dark boy. It's a fight that's happened before, the ending with a pretty heiress climbing over a sixth body to take the victory of the Second Annual Hunger Games. This time, the result is the opposite, and Satin falls with barely a whimper, face unrecognizable thanks to the large furrow dug deep into it by cold steel.
Marble, like the rest, was loaded onto a train and carried home unceremoniously. Marble, like the rest, received no reward from the Capitol. Unlike the rest, however, Marble returned to Two not to stony silence or disappointment, but to a celebration funded by a combination of the District government and a consortium of wealthy businessmen. Banners, food, a reason for Marble not just to celebrate coming home for his own survival but for the excitement it brought to his District.
From then on, he was a celebrity. Or, at least, as much of one as possible. He was interviewed on the various stages left after the devastation of the Dark Days or rebuilt in the aftermath, even if television and radio was for now a prohibited luxury in the districts. Posters of his face were plastered up across the District for various propaganda purposes, most common those encouraging the youth of the district to sign up for the slowly reconstituting Peacekeeper Corps. Not as glamorous as the Panem Air Force and Navy, or the drawing down Panem Volunteer Army, but the new need to police Panem meant those branches were less necessary.
Add to that a salary from the district, a state funded house on the slopes of the mountain fortress for him and his family, and a ticket out of the quarries and into the high life. Two certainly treated him the best, not least because he was a valuable propaganda mouthpiece. He'd be roused once or twice a week to talk at schools on what it meant to serve the Capitol, his family still had to work even if the house they lived in was bigger than the barracks for 20 families down in the pits. Save for that, though, he was left alone.
Not that being left alone was the most exciting. A big house up on the hill all day only had so many things to do before getting bored, and while there was holiday resorts in Two those were exclusive to Capitol citizens. Instead, he devoted his time to training. Exercise equipment precision machined in Three, the occasional sword or axe to get to know, capitol license fees paid promptly and with a little extra. It made a good show, the by now bulky man showing off a machete like that he used in the arena, before kneeling down and encouraging a teenage girl that yes, she would be more than welcome in the Peacekeepers if that was how she could serve Panem.
It was a dull life, filled with a lot of boring people gushing over how inspiring he was, and how he was just certain to be helping the kids get better, survive better, live better. It wasn't the backbreaking labour of the quarries, and for that at least he was grateful. Most men down there would be out by forty, and with little hope of changing career path once they were out. Still, he had that little voice in his head saying that maybe he should be doing something more, something to pay back the District for the life-changing opportunity he'd been given.
Hence why, more and more, the gate began to be left open. District Two, like the others, had a strict six day schedule, for the under-15s alternating between school and work. The specifics depended on achievement in specific subjects, but for the most part it was either 2 days school and 4 days work, or the opposite. That one free day, though, they could spend mostly how they wanted. No gatherings of five or more outside specified areas, home by 11, but those weren't too bad. Youths, as a result, typically spent that free day exploring. It wasn't the same for everyone, but enough friends that typically it'd be groups of 2 or 3. And besides, Peacekeepers wouldn't fault a group of 5 or 6 in Two if they were being well behaved.
And if the occasional young man or woman found their way into the house, and Marble gave them more than a little advice on how to handle themselves? How to hold a sword, how to fend off an attacker, the whole hog? Well, no Two with any dose of self-respect would complain at their children getting a better chance at survival. The Recruitment centres wouldn't take a child until seventeen, where Marble would at least try to help anyone, regardless of age. They'd probably get a good meal, some life advice, and come back a better child for it.
Marble didn't mind the occasional child, or for that matter the common child, turning up. As long as there was no issue, he was content to help in his off days. The Peacekeepers continued to bother him, making sure that the children all left at the appropriate times, making sure that they were only visiting on their assigned days off, making sure that he was comfortable.
He wasn't sure why they bothered him so much about it, especially considering the vast majority were District themselves.
Still, the kids kept coming, and he kept receiving. They needed some way to get their minds off the Games, and with work and school in some combination taking up 6 days of their week, if they wanted some kind of tutelage for the seventh day instead of resting, then clearly they were driven enough. Besides, he had more than enough money to go around, and enough kids even with state provision of food were going hungry. It gave Ma, who didn't have enough to do now that the District had allowed her a 4 day work week, something to keep her hands busy and her beliefs intact.
Every day, though, he's forced to walk past the central square. See the rings where in a few months there'll be several thousand District children waiting on the second round of reapings, praying they don't get picked. Knowing that regardless of the odds being small, it has to be someone, and regardless of whether it's a little sister or brother or cousin, nobody can save them. Nobody can step up.
It's this thought of the helplessness that awaits the children if they are picked, every day, that drives him to help the kids that little bit more. To correct techniques, to encourage them to keep going even when they were scared, or tired, or just didn't think it'd be worth it to waste their free days. It worked, for the most part, because he was there, and he was telling them to keep going
For all his efforts, though, Plautia and Grant barely made it into the arena before they were down. They'd both attended a couple of sessions, but not enough to ward off the sharp blades that cut them down. A blonde lad, that year, took the title. He was good enough, and he at the least suffered no major injuries from the Games. Still, it wasn't a Two. Marble, after that, redoubled his efforts. Whether it would be enough, though, only time could tell.
Author Note: Sorry for the late update, I've been in one of the (UK) National Parks Saturday-Friday last week, so this is a bit late in coming out! Thank you for reading, as always, and rest assured I am still intending to keep up with the chapters even if I may be a bit slow