Reaping Day III
Walpurgis Knight
Guardian of Folkvang
- Location
- Union of Cascadian Socialist Republics (UCSR)
Willow is waiting impatiently, her tan arms crossed over her chest. "You coming?"
You don't want to alienate your only district partner, but you also don't think that ignoring your only official lifeline is a good idea. You even think he might be genuine. Twos were prickly about matters of personal honor, or at least that's the image they like to present to the rest of Panem. So, he might actually try and help you. "I think we should stay, Willow." You point to the holo projector. "The reaping for District 11 is in fifteen minutes. We should work together and try to learn as much as we can."
You can see Honorius tilt his head out of the corner of your eye, his gaze narrowing in interest but Willow seems unmoved. "Fine. Listen to two and when you get stabbed in the back I won't be around to say 'I told you so' to your corpse."
She starts to move away once more, her short heels making impressions in the plush blue carpet, and you can't quite believe that she doesn't seem to want to even try. You ask, "What about the reapings? We should know what we're up against at least."
She looks over her shoulder one last time. "I don't need to see a bunch of other kids walk to their deaths...I can't. I'll be back for the monsters...it's them we need to worry about anyway." With that she strides to the end of the train car and enters the next portion containing your rooms.
Honorius huffs next to you. "Looks like it's you and me, kid."
You still can't believe she's so stubborn. "Why?" you mutter to yourself in a voice only a tad louder than a whisper.
You look up to see the old victor give the smallest of smiles, pulling on the edge of his scars. "She wants to do it her way. I can respect that. It's stupid but I can respect it."
"So can I," you admit. Neither of you picked this, wanted this for yourselves. You've chosen to take every advantage you can get and try to win, but you think there are more important things to Willow. Or maybe she wants you to think that? This is so fucked.
You nearly jump out of your skin when Honorius taps you in the arm with his cane and you realize that you don't trust him on a deep, instinctual level. You'd watched a two kill a twelve at least every other year, sometimes in extremely brutal ways. You couldn't shake that. "Let's start then," he says. "We've got ten minutes before you'll see yourself on that screen for a recap before they show District 11, so we'll talk about the reaping then. I need to know what you're good at, what makes you tick, so we can use it."
You...don't think you should tell him everything. At least not right away. You'll start with something everyone in District 12 knew, something that's practically useless. You say, "I know how to use a still, make liquor from potato scraps and tesserae grain."
Honorius looks at you like you're dumb as a rock. "You're lucky they don't wire these trains, boy."
"Wire?" It looked like the train was full of electricity to you. More power was in this train than all of District 12, you'd bet.
Honorius sighs. "Stone give me strength...They really don't teach you bumpkins nothing, do they?"
You shrug. "Mostly mining stuff. It's what we're gonna do when we age out no matter what unless you're from town and your daddy owns a shop."
He nods, and his expression becomes more neutral again. " 'wiring' means that there's little microphones everywhere recording what you say so that the Capitol can go over it later for signs of dissent." At your troubled expression, he waves his hand. "Don't worry about it, kid. Try not to say anything in front of the escort, he's a notorious gossip, but the train and the tribute's quarters at the Capitol are free of bugs. There was a big information racket in the 30's when the peacekeepers and techs listening in sold juicy tidbits to mentors and sponsors, and the tabloids started revealing more than the official channel...and well. The Capitol does so like the illusion of sanctity and fair play, so they decided to remove the bugs."
You're not quite sure what to say to that. You're not surprised that that's what happened though. "That's good…"
He chuckles. "Bet your life it is. Comment like that could have got your whole district in trouble back in my games…" His eyes narrow and you see a shadow of anger cross his face but it's gone all too soon for you to be sure. "...anyway, that sort of patience might come in handy if you need to purify water. Last year was a forest valley with running water, the one before that was a desert with hardly any water at all. I can't be sure, but they'll do something special this year, get a little pop before toning it down in the three years before the Quarter Quell."
"I feel so honored…" You couldn't stop yourself from making a sarcastic comment. If you had to listen to him speak so detached and even with a hint of enthusiasm about the games and just take it and stay silent, you think you'd go nuts.
Honorius snarls. "You should be…" For a brief moment he looks like he's going to get up from his chair and strike you, his eyes of ice blue blazing with fire, but he sighs and calms down almost in an instant, the tension leaving him. "...What do you know about the Dark Days, boy?"
A whole bunch of lies is what you're guessing. The Capitol made sure to teach you from a young age that the Dark Days were the worst times of your history and that the Rebels instilled terror and fear in the districts, committing terrible atrocities against loyalist populations to keep them in line. Like that justifies the Capitol doing the same thing now… "Enough," you say. You had no desire to hear what he had to say on this. Twos were favored for a reason, their rabid loyalty, and you can't imagine his take on the Dark Days would be any different than the Capitol line you've been hearing your whole life.
He leans back, taking a glance over at the holo projector. You follow his gaze to see the countdown at a little under five minutes until it would turn on automatically. Honorius' voice is stern but holds some kind of pain. "I was nine when the Dark Days ended. My parents lived through it all and I remember enough of it. The occupation, the riots, the days when soldiers in black would round up twenty-four people at random and shoot them in the back of the head for every day we defied them, one for each hour. We never gave in, while the mayor surrendered, the people were loyal…"
You can't listen to this lode of stone any longer. "Are you reaching a point, two, or are you just going to keep yapping?" You didn't care if he was an old man, you'd sock him if he kept this up.
He glares at you from his blue suede chair. "Have some respect! You think your district has it bad now? 13 nearly ran you into the ground. By the time my father's unit liberated your district, your people were all skin and bones, your iron mines stripped clean, and your granaries empty...13 only cared about their own and nothing else." His eyes blaze with anger and hatred and you can't help but think it's a little much to hold a grudge against a district long destroyed.
You scoff. "Well, aren't we twelves just so lucky that the Capitol blew 13 to smithereens then?"
His eyes never lose their edge, in fact you think you've only made him angrier. "Yes. Yes, you are," he spits out.
You glare back at him, and the time passes in a tense silence before the holo projector flares to life, the sickeningly familiar faces of Lucretia Tannenbaum and Gaius Bickleton taking up the whole of the projection, the red and gold flag of Panem hanging behind them. The vile woman on the left, completely arrayed in a dress and wig of neon green, is the first to speak, as always. "To the citizens of Panem, Happy Hunger Games!"
Gaius Bickleton, wearing a purple tuxedo and dyeing his natural hair blue today raises a finger and says, "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" as though it was something original and clever.
They both titter like stupid birds, feathers and all, and you find yourself clenching and unclenching your right fist in irritation. You look over to Honorius and his expression is impassive but a little twitch in his cheek makes you think that he wasn't a fan of these hosts either. You turn back to the screen to see the two exchanging mindless banter about the districts and making cruel jokes, even about Honorius' people. "Why do you think we provide an escort to District 2, Gaius? Surely they can do the reaping themselves."
The chinless man laughs, slapping Lucretia lightly on the arm. "Oh, that's easy, my dear. Someone has to read the reaping slips!"
They both howl along with the canned response from the nonexistent audience. It was all so...stupidly cruel. It's like they knew they were untouchable and all-powerful and didn't have the respect and decency to treat this with any bit of tact or sensitivity. Honorius evidently agrees, muttering under his breath.
They go through every district, before finally reaching 12. Gaius is the one to make the joke. "This is sad, Lucretia. Did you hear about the cave-in in 12 today?"
You immediately sit up in panic but you quickly realize that this would be impossible. The mines were closed on reaping day. Lucretia titters. "Oh no."
"Don't worry, it was only a miner inconvenience!" Gaius delivers the punchline before laughing at his own joke, Lucretia along with him. Your mind goes into a haze of delirious hate almost immediately.
Honorius pokes you with his cane again. "Bring it down, kid. Save it and use it later but for now, pay attention. It's starting."
The shot switches to District 12. It was so weird seeing your district from the bird's eye view, or from the top of the Justice Building. They almost never showed the reaping recap back home. Everyone had been there in person, after all. Everything looked festive but you don't think anyone in the Capitol could fool themselves into thinking people were happy here. There's something in everyone's posture, something broken that you all shared. Or well, most of you did. They pay extra attention to smiling little Townie kids, laughing and pointing at all the stalls with sweets. They were likely looking forward to the celebrations to come later in the day, innocent and safe from the horrors of the games. When it finally starts, it's so surreal to watch everything happen all over again. When Willow's name is called, you can see her face harden in an instant after she closes her eyes one last time, mouthing something to herself. The Capitol makes sure to show the despair in her younger sibling's faces. The helplessness and grief of the mother in the crowd. She'd have no trouble getting sympathy. The pastel blue dress that clings to her form looks like it was sewn for much younger girl and the end doesn't reach down to her knees like most Townies would consider proper. You suppose she had bigger problems than if her Reaping dress fits. She's defiant and unafraid, looking into the camera as if she wants to reach through it and strangle anyone watching.
"She's a fighter," says Honorius. "The sponsors will like her because she has a big family to return to, but the hostility is a problem."
When your name is called, the cameras take a little while to find you. Thankfully, by that time, your expression is blank and not the open-mouthed shock that was your first response once you realized that it was indeed you. As you stride towards the Stage with confidence, Gaius provides commentary. "Looks like this one's ready for it, Lucy."
When you answer Templesmith's question up on the stage, you see your own smile and think you look like a career, menacing and dashing in equal measure. You look eager, almost happy to have been chosen and you didn't see this in the moment but the camera cuts to Willow and she's looking at you with an expression of pure disgust. This...may be a problem.
The voice of Lucretia Tannenbaum makes you want to pierce your eardrums. She puts a finger to her lips. "Oh, but look at that jawline…He's a looker!" The camera zooms in on Willow's face. "Oho, she's not liking Sparrow here stealing her thunder, Gaius."
"Clearly not!" The bruised grape chuckles. "Looks like we've got two contenders from 12 this year, one eighteen, the other seventeen." He rubs his pale little hands together. "The odds are certainly in their favor." They both chuckle and share a look that says they don't believe that for a second.
Honorius looks over at you while the scene changes from the commentary booth to the main square in the largest town in District 11. "Capitol will be paying attention to you, that's for sure. So will 1, 2 and 4. Whether they want to take you out first or be your ally will depend on how many other threats there are in the field."
You nod, having figured as much.
"And now for the home district of our reigning victor!" Lucretia crows.
"District 11!" Gaius exclaims, like the audience might have forgotten.
The sight was about the same as it was every year. Some cheeks looked less sunken and the kids a bit better fed than the year before thanks to the food parcels from Chaff's victory but folks didn't suddenly decide that they liked Reaping Day any. The crowd is silent and sullen, no doubt having just been forced to watch that awful film they show every year. You assume that they show the same clip to all the districts, anyway.
The escort for District 11 is a flighty wisp of a woman that looks like she's been completely enameled with gold. If she didn't move, you'd think she was a statue. She picks up one of the top slips from the girl's reaping bowl without hesitation. "Cydonia Valens!"
The shot cuts to a light-skinned girl for District 11 with brown eyes and curly, black locks. She looks shocked at first but her expression quickly morphs into one closer to embarrassment than horror.
When she reaches the stage, the escort gushes over her. "Well aren't you such a sweet little thing. What's going through your mind right now?"
She looks up at the camera with a shy smile. "Oh, well I just can't stop thinking about all the wonderful things I'm going to see in the Capitol." She giggles. "It will be like a dream."
"Smart and adaptable. Like you. Watch out for that one." Honorius sounds genuinely impressed.
Since this is live, when someone from the crowd yells something derogatory, they don't have a chance to edit it out yet. You barely hear it but it's something about bending over and "taking it" from the Capitol though. They limit the shot to the stage as you hear shouts from the crowd. You have no doubt that peacekeepers are finding the agitator.
The golden escort keeps asking Cydonia more questions while this is going on and, to her credit she only twitches once, her eyes wandering to the crowd, before focusing on the Capitol escort once more, answering her questions with ridiculous, vapid answers that the escort gushes over. Chaff and Seeder are in the background with stony expressions on their faces.
When order is finally restored, the escort picks a slip out of the boy's reaping bowl. "Huck!"
The two commentators titter and laugh like they do whenever someone without a last name is reaped from the districts. Most kids at the Home didn't have one. You only did because your mother left a name when she gave you up as a baby. Only when folks got married did they always have to have a last name. Chaff and Seeder didn't have last names and that was common enough for District 11, you've noticed.
The camera finds a small, terrified boy. He had to be twelve, thirteen at the most, and he takes the slowest, stiffest steps towards the stage that you've seen so far. Even though the two young boys look nothing alike, you can't help but think of Briar. What would you have done if it had been him? Would you have taken his place? Would you still be speeding aboard a bullet train to your death? You'd like to think you would do it, be brave enough to take his place, but you can't be sure. You can't give yourself credit for something that would never happen. You hope someone else kills Huck quickly because you're not sure you'd be able to. It would be like killing Briar.
No one takes Huck's place, and the square is deathly silent when the escort calls for a round of applause for the two tributes. Gaius laughs. "No wonder they're not in the Hunger Games spirit, Lucy. Looks like there won't be repeat this year!"
Lucretia readily agrees "Oh, yes but I'm sure that darling Cydonia will do just fabulous!" before signing off with. "This has been a live broadcast of the Reaping at District 11. Stay tuned for the live reapings at 9, 10, 8, 4, and 7 in the next two hours." The scene switches back to the commentator's booth. "Happy Hunger Games!"
Gaius does that weird pointing thing with his finger again. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
The screen goes out, the base of the projector displaying a ten-minute countdown, and you're filled with a dark disgust. You'd seen this all play out for almost as long as you can remember but you could always tune out before, watch without seeing, hear without listening. Now you had to pay attention. Your life depended on it.
Honorius speaks in a softer voice than you've heard before. "It's never easy to see the little ones up there. Best you can hope for is that it'll be quick for them."
To the credit of District 2, you've never seen their tributes draw out the death of a twelve or thirteen year old. They were still dead though. "Ten more of these," You say.
The old victor nods solemnly. "Ten more."
When it's time for District 9, they show shots of the waving fields of grain that provides tesserae and wheat to the nation and rows upon rows of corn, ground into meal or sent down to 10 to feed the livestock. It makes you want to throw something at the projection when they show laughing children frolicking in the crop fields, chasing and tackling each other, saying "Gotcha" and mimicking a stab or thrust.
"Oho!" crows Lucretia. "The escort for 9 has really outdone themselves this year, who is it Gaius?"
The scene cuts back to the commentator's booth while Bickleton looks down at a piece of paper. "Ah, Caesar Flickerman! Wondrous job, young man!"
The scene cuts to the main town of District 9 in front of the grand Justice Building of red brick and white columns. The weather is beautiful, just like it was in 12, with the sun shining down on a crowd full of blond hair.
The man who commands the stage as the Capitol escort is Caesar Flickerman, dressed all in a blue-purple, laughing and telling jokes that only get token laughs from the most sycophantic of the district officials. He'd been working his way up the districts, moving up the ladder almost every year. Unlike some escorts, he never mocked the tributes or his district and always made these intro videos which were intended to make the Capitol take notice but always made you sick to your stomach.
He goes over to the girls' bowl, taking a slip with a single solemn motion and reading off the name with a voice that boomed across the square. "Hebna Mayze!"
The girl, fifteen at most, looks like a rabbit caught in a trap, her eyes wide and fearful. She doesn't move at all until the peacekeepers come and get her, being more gentle than they likely would have been if the cameras weren't rolling. Flickerman beckons to her. "Come on now, don't be shy!"
She nearly trips going up the stairs, forgetting to hold up her long prairie dress. When she reaches her spot, Flickerman asks her, "My dear, aren't you surprised?"
The pale, freckled girl with reddish blonde hair doesn't answer for a few seconds, her eyes wide and pleading, before she mutters out a weak. "Yes."
Flickerman laughs but somehow it doesn't come across as mocking. "Oh, well I am too! You're such a darling."
Once he asks for volunteers and everyone remains silent, the girl begins to sob, and the camera crew quickly cut her out of the shot. That was strange. Usually, they delight in the fear of children, but it seems that they want to focus on the boys' reaping. Flickerman selects the slip with just as much care as he did with the girls.
Once he reads off the slip, "Buck Cooper!", the crowd starts muttering and you notice a few adults in the background smiling.
A boy from one of the middle rows, so fourteen or fifteen as well, comes forward on his own. Almost outpacing the peacekeepers, although his head is lowered, and you can see some red blisters on his forehead.
"That's it," Flickerman says, motioning with his arm for the boy to ascend the steps. As Buck finally takes his place, he lifts his head and... well, he was not a handsome boy even without all the acne, but Flickerman doesn't comment on it. "A bit eager there, aren't we?"
Buck thins his lips before responding. "I... I jus… I jus don't wanna embar... embarrass my folks...mo... more than I got... gotta." The sentence is painfully slow, Buck stopping at almost every syllable to make sure he got it right.
The commentators hoot and holler like they've never heard something so funny in their life while Flickerman just gives him a look of pity. "I'm sure you'll do District 9 proud, Buck."
Another call for volunteers is made but the crowd is just as silent as before and the hosts change the scene to District 10, where the ground is just as flat as 9 but there are no crops only cattle, as far as the eye can see. The square is one of the largest in Panem and packed with wholesome ranchers who smile and wave at the cameras, tipping their cowboy hats as you see some of the brown-skinned workers and ranch hands scowl behind them.
The mood is more festive that 11 and 9 but that's not saying much. They show shots of grilling meat skewers and families preparing picnics on the lawn outside the reaping pens, waiting hopefully for their children to survive another year. The escort is a ridiculous looking woman, even by Capitol standards, with tattoos covering most of her body. She's practically vibrating with excitement as she pulls the slip for the girls. "Carina Perez!"
The majority of the crowd, rich residents of District 10's largest town clap as a brown-skinned girl with delicate features and a defeated expression on her face walks calmly to her doom. The shot zooms in, showing the tears in her eyes as a little girl behind the pen screams. The camera finds a mother and father holding a little girl, maybe seven or eight, as she thrashes in their arms, struggling to reach her sister.
Lucretia laughs. "How adorable, throwing a tantrum because her sister is getting all the glory!"
Gaius titters along with her. "Oh, yes. She must be so jealous. Don't worry, little one. You'll be old enough soon, and you can be just like your sister."
The two commentators continue to prattle on, commenting on the patriotic spirit of their stalwart ranchers who never fail to provide their yearly quota of meat to the Capitol. They wink and smile for the Capitol audience and you don't think you've ever seen them say something so blatant in the recaps that District 12 was forced to watch.
You turn to ask Honorius, "Who gets to watch this full version?"
He frowns. "Only 1, 2, and the Capitol itself. We're using my mentor codes from 2 to access the broadcast. Sometimes they throw in hints for us. It's worth suffering through the inside jokes."
"Otis Hyde!" The next name echoes through the square but this time the clapping is more subdued. It's a rancher's son. It has to be.
From the front of the 18-year-old section steps forward a grown man dressed like a cowboy with a scruffy brown beard. You already know that the Capitol will go nuts for him.
The escort is practically creaming herself when he steps up to the stage. "Oh my, aren't you such a handsome wrangler, you…" She fans herself to the laughter of the commentators while the shot catches Perez smiling slightly. You think even though she probably couldn't kill Mr. Beefcake, she's glad that a rich kid got picked. "...do you have anything to say to the nation of Panem?"
Hyde smiles for the camera and it doesn't look too forced. "I'll do the Capitol and District 10 proud, miss. Don't you dare count me out."
The escort nearly faints at having such a strong tribute. "Wouldn't dream of it, darling"
As the shot pans out and the two tributes shake hands, Lucretia Tannenbaum begins the transition. "So, there we go! District 10! Carina Perez and Otis Hyde! Do you think they can work together, Gaius?"
The scene changes to the commentators' booth once more and Gaius visibly contemplates the question holding his chinless jaw in his hands. "Well, it would certainly help District 10's chances but there can only be one victor!"
The projector goes off again after their closing comments on 10 and the countdown begins again. You look over to Honorius who's looking down at a small device on his wrist. It's not a watch, no watch you've ever seen has a holo screen. "What is it?" you ask.
He doesn't look up from the stream of information. "Hmm. Name change for District 2's female volunteer. Someone must have got cold feet."
"You know who's it's going to be before the reaping?" you ask.
Honorius hums. "We hand pick the tributes each year. There's enough eager for it that only one out of twenty who make it all the way through the program are chosen. Sometimes certain years have better prospects than others. You have to fit the personality with the mood of the Capitol and hope that one of yours comes home."
You don't feel any connection or sympathy with twos but you're still a bit curious. "Who are they this year?"
Honorius laughs. "I want to see what you make of them first before I tell you all about them. I know their favored weapons, what makes them tick, their favorite fruit, the other trainees they've fucked. It's all in my files."
You grumble as the holo projector flares back to life, the two commentators making some joke about District 8. "...but the Reaping is one-size-fits-all!" They both laugh and you can't believe you have to sit through eight more of these.
District 8 is urban with factories as far as the eye can see. There's no smoke billowing out of them, but you can imagine what it might look like and how filthy the place must be when those plants are running. The escort for District 8 looks like she hates her job. That was unusual for these chipper shepherds of children to the slaughterhouse of the Capitol. She's decked out in the latest Capitol fashion which seems to be neon green, tall wigs and enameled dresses that shine. Hers is a hot pink.
"Welcome! Welcome!" She looks around at the crowd but shares their lack of enthusiasm. When she pulls the slip from the girl's bowl, she purses her lips but still reads the name with enthusiasm. "Georgette Dillon!"
Shouts of protest and mutters erupt from the crowd and the local peacekeepers, whose uniforms are a little more off-white than the others, stiffen. You wonder what could be worse than the normal lottery of sending kids to their death. Your eyes widen when you see her. She's pregnant. Nearly to bursting pregnant. She comes forward from the 17-year-old section sobbing and heaving and even the peacekeepers look uncomfortable, one of them holding her up when she almost trips.
When she gets to the stage, the escort doesn't even ask her any questions, she turns to the crowd. "Are there any volunteers?"
Silence. Deafening silence...but then there's a shout. It's not female though. "Cowards! You're all cowards!" There's a young man behind the reaping pen with tears streaming down his face.
Honorius glares at the projection. "Shouldn't have knocked her up in the first place now, should you?"
This was... you don't recall something like this ever happening before. This was worse than Huck. It was fucked up.
The Commentators are practically falling over themselves trying to reassure the audience that the Capitol would never place the baby in danger. "The Capitol has only the best doctors, I'm sure the baby can be saved," says Lucretia.
"Oh, most certainly," agrees Gaius.
It sickens you that with all the children that they watch get brutally murdered every year, an unborn child is where they draw the line.
"This would never happen in 2," says Honorius. "...or 4. This is why we train, to prevent shit like this." The old victor gets up from his chair and walks over to the open bar, pouring himself three fingers of an amber liquid that you assume to be some Capitol liqueur.
The boys are next. "Denim Flanders!"
Thin as a rail, a black-haired boy from the middle of the rows comes up to the stage as if in a daze. You think he's doing okay until a dark patch forms at the front of his beige trousers. The two tributes shake hands unsteadily, sobbing, and the escort looks at the camera like it's her worst enemy. District 8 just can't catch a break. Last year they had two thirteen-year-olds who held each other screaming as they were dragged away by peacekeepers. This year was somehow worse.
4 was next. You get up to go find Willow because you think she'll want to see the first of the careers. Before you can get far though, Honorius grabs you by the collar. "Where do you think you're going?"
You pull away but can't get out of his grip. "Willow should see the careers."
He huffs. "She said she wanted to see the monsters. Fours aren't monsters, not like us."
You snarl. "I don't think she'll appreciate the difference."
He lets you go, wiping his hand off on his clay red jacket as if he's touched something filthy. "She doesn't appreciate much, that girl. If she doesn't want my help, then fine. Only one of you is coming out of that arena and if I gotta focus on the one who just might listen to a damn thing I say, then I will. Besides, 4 ain't so bad."
You disagree, crossing your arms as you back off towards the hallway. "They train to kill kids."
He downs the rest of his drink in one swig. "They train to survive. You think Mags wanted this for her district?! It was the only way to not have to watch helplessly every fucking year while scared kids go in the arena peeing their pants and wailing helplessly as they're slaughtered."
You huff. "That doesn't make it right."
He sighs, leaning on his cane. "Damn right, it doesn't but that's the way it is. If you want my help, you're going to do what I fucking tell you. I know her type, your partner. She's angry at the world and will only drag you down, forget about her."
"But…"
He cuts you off. "I'm going to go find that fucking peacock, Templesmith, and get him to actually do his job. If you bring Willow back before it's time for District 2, I'll assume that you don't want my help either."
With that, he limps away, opening the door to the escort's car and disappearing inside. You don't know what his angle is. Does he want you weak and divided so the twos can pick their teeth with your bones or does he really want to back you to the hilt at the expense of Willow? Damn it, you think he actually might want to help you, but you don't know if you should take his advice if it means sacrificing Willow. If you can't win, you'd want her to, to feed the kids at the Home and the other starving folks in your district. Although, there was Huck, that pregnant girl… You watched to get the measure of the competition, but you can't help but just see them as in the same situation you are. You don't know how you're going to kill them.
You take a deep breath. One step at a time. It's time to…
[ ] Look for Willow. (She might not want to play the Capitol's game but she needs to watch the damn reapings. She might see things that you don't and it was Honorius' job to help you anyway. He'll come around.)
[ ] Settle back down and prepare yourself to evaluate District 4. (If you want to survive the opening day of the games, you know you should probably learn everything you can about the career pack. Honorius knows 2 like the back of his hand and will probably try to help you get an alliance with 2 or 4. You don't have anything against Willow, you might even try to ally with her in the arena, but there can only be one winner and you need to cover your bases.)
3-HOUR MORATORIUM!!!
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You don't want to alienate your only district partner, but you also don't think that ignoring your only official lifeline is a good idea. You even think he might be genuine. Twos were prickly about matters of personal honor, or at least that's the image they like to present to the rest of Panem. So, he might actually try and help you. "I think we should stay, Willow." You point to the holo projector. "The reaping for District 11 is in fifteen minutes. We should work together and try to learn as much as we can."
You can see Honorius tilt his head out of the corner of your eye, his gaze narrowing in interest but Willow seems unmoved. "Fine. Listen to two and when you get stabbed in the back I won't be around to say 'I told you so' to your corpse."
She starts to move away once more, her short heels making impressions in the plush blue carpet, and you can't quite believe that she doesn't seem to want to even try. You ask, "What about the reapings? We should know what we're up against at least."
She looks over her shoulder one last time. "I don't need to see a bunch of other kids walk to their deaths...I can't. I'll be back for the monsters...it's them we need to worry about anyway." With that she strides to the end of the train car and enters the next portion containing your rooms.
Honorius huffs next to you. "Looks like it's you and me, kid."
You still can't believe she's so stubborn. "Why?" you mutter to yourself in a voice only a tad louder than a whisper.
You look up to see the old victor give the smallest of smiles, pulling on the edge of his scars. "She wants to do it her way. I can respect that. It's stupid but I can respect it."
"So can I," you admit. Neither of you picked this, wanted this for yourselves. You've chosen to take every advantage you can get and try to win, but you think there are more important things to Willow. Or maybe she wants you to think that? This is so fucked.
You nearly jump out of your skin when Honorius taps you in the arm with his cane and you realize that you don't trust him on a deep, instinctual level. You'd watched a two kill a twelve at least every other year, sometimes in extremely brutal ways. You couldn't shake that. "Let's start then," he says. "We've got ten minutes before you'll see yourself on that screen for a recap before they show District 11, so we'll talk about the reaping then. I need to know what you're good at, what makes you tick, so we can use it."
You...don't think you should tell him everything. At least not right away. You'll start with something everyone in District 12 knew, something that's practically useless. You say, "I know how to use a still, make liquor from potato scraps and tesserae grain."
Honorius looks at you like you're dumb as a rock. "You're lucky they don't wire these trains, boy."
"Wire?" It looked like the train was full of electricity to you. More power was in this train than all of District 12, you'd bet.
Honorius sighs. "Stone give me strength...They really don't teach you bumpkins nothing, do they?"
You shrug. "Mostly mining stuff. It's what we're gonna do when we age out no matter what unless you're from town and your daddy owns a shop."
He nods, and his expression becomes more neutral again. " 'wiring' means that there's little microphones everywhere recording what you say so that the Capitol can go over it later for signs of dissent." At your troubled expression, he waves his hand. "Don't worry about it, kid. Try not to say anything in front of the escort, he's a notorious gossip, but the train and the tribute's quarters at the Capitol are free of bugs. There was a big information racket in the 30's when the peacekeepers and techs listening in sold juicy tidbits to mentors and sponsors, and the tabloids started revealing more than the official channel...and well. The Capitol does so like the illusion of sanctity and fair play, so they decided to remove the bugs."
You're not quite sure what to say to that. You're not surprised that that's what happened though. "That's good…"
He chuckles. "Bet your life it is. Comment like that could have got your whole district in trouble back in my games…" His eyes narrow and you see a shadow of anger cross his face but it's gone all too soon for you to be sure. "...anyway, that sort of patience might come in handy if you need to purify water. Last year was a forest valley with running water, the one before that was a desert with hardly any water at all. I can't be sure, but they'll do something special this year, get a little pop before toning it down in the three years before the Quarter Quell."
"I feel so honored…" You couldn't stop yourself from making a sarcastic comment. If you had to listen to him speak so detached and even with a hint of enthusiasm about the games and just take it and stay silent, you think you'd go nuts.
Honorius snarls. "You should be…" For a brief moment he looks like he's going to get up from his chair and strike you, his eyes of ice blue blazing with fire, but he sighs and calms down almost in an instant, the tension leaving him. "...What do you know about the Dark Days, boy?"
A whole bunch of lies is what you're guessing. The Capitol made sure to teach you from a young age that the Dark Days were the worst times of your history and that the Rebels instilled terror and fear in the districts, committing terrible atrocities against loyalist populations to keep them in line. Like that justifies the Capitol doing the same thing now… "Enough," you say. You had no desire to hear what he had to say on this. Twos were favored for a reason, their rabid loyalty, and you can't imagine his take on the Dark Days would be any different than the Capitol line you've been hearing your whole life.
He leans back, taking a glance over at the holo projector. You follow his gaze to see the countdown at a little under five minutes until it would turn on automatically. Honorius' voice is stern but holds some kind of pain. "I was nine when the Dark Days ended. My parents lived through it all and I remember enough of it. The occupation, the riots, the days when soldiers in black would round up twenty-four people at random and shoot them in the back of the head for every day we defied them, one for each hour. We never gave in, while the mayor surrendered, the people were loyal…"
You can't listen to this lode of stone any longer. "Are you reaching a point, two, or are you just going to keep yapping?" You didn't care if he was an old man, you'd sock him if he kept this up.
He glares at you from his blue suede chair. "Have some respect! You think your district has it bad now? 13 nearly ran you into the ground. By the time my father's unit liberated your district, your people were all skin and bones, your iron mines stripped clean, and your granaries empty...13 only cared about their own and nothing else." His eyes blaze with anger and hatred and you can't help but think it's a little much to hold a grudge against a district long destroyed.
You scoff. "Well, aren't we twelves just so lucky that the Capitol blew 13 to smithereens then?"
His eyes never lose their edge, in fact you think you've only made him angrier. "Yes. Yes, you are," he spits out.
You glare back at him, and the time passes in a tense silence before the holo projector flares to life, the sickeningly familiar faces of Lucretia Tannenbaum and Gaius Bickleton taking up the whole of the projection, the red and gold flag of Panem hanging behind them. The vile woman on the left, completely arrayed in a dress and wig of neon green, is the first to speak, as always. "To the citizens of Panem, Happy Hunger Games!"
Gaius Bickleton, wearing a purple tuxedo and dyeing his natural hair blue today raises a finger and says, "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" as though it was something original and clever.
They both titter like stupid birds, feathers and all, and you find yourself clenching and unclenching your right fist in irritation. You look over to Honorius and his expression is impassive but a little twitch in his cheek makes you think that he wasn't a fan of these hosts either. You turn back to the screen to see the two exchanging mindless banter about the districts and making cruel jokes, even about Honorius' people. "Why do you think we provide an escort to District 2, Gaius? Surely they can do the reaping themselves."
The chinless man laughs, slapping Lucretia lightly on the arm. "Oh, that's easy, my dear. Someone has to read the reaping slips!"
They both howl along with the canned response from the nonexistent audience. It was all so...stupidly cruel. It's like they knew they were untouchable and all-powerful and didn't have the respect and decency to treat this with any bit of tact or sensitivity. Honorius evidently agrees, muttering under his breath.
They go through every district, before finally reaching 12. Gaius is the one to make the joke. "This is sad, Lucretia. Did you hear about the cave-in in 12 today?"
You immediately sit up in panic but you quickly realize that this would be impossible. The mines were closed on reaping day. Lucretia titters. "Oh no."
"Don't worry, it was only a miner inconvenience!" Gaius delivers the punchline before laughing at his own joke, Lucretia along with him. Your mind goes into a haze of delirious hate almost immediately.
Honorius pokes you with his cane again. "Bring it down, kid. Save it and use it later but for now, pay attention. It's starting."
The shot switches to District 12. It was so weird seeing your district from the bird's eye view, or from the top of the Justice Building. They almost never showed the reaping recap back home. Everyone had been there in person, after all. Everything looked festive but you don't think anyone in the Capitol could fool themselves into thinking people were happy here. There's something in everyone's posture, something broken that you all shared. Or well, most of you did. They pay extra attention to smiling little Townie kids, laughing and pointing at all the stalls with sweets. They were likely looking forward to the celebrations to come later in the day, innocent and safe from the horrors of the games. When it finally starts, it's so surreal to watch everything happen all over again. When Willow's name is called, you can see her face harden in an instant after she closes her eyes one last time, mouthing something to herself. The Capitol makes sure to show the despair in her younger sibling's faces. The helplessness and grief of the mother in the crowd. She'd have no trouble getting sympathy. The pastel blue dress that clings to her form looks like it was sewn for much younger girl and the end doesn't reach down to her knees like most Townies would consider proper. You suppose she had bigger problems than if her Reaping dress fits. She's defiant and unafraid, looking into the camera as if she wants to reach through it and strangle anyone watching.
"She's a fighter," says Honorius. "The sponsors will like her because she has a big family to return to, but the hostility is a problem."
When your name is called, the cameras take a little while to find you. Thankfully, by that time, your expression is blank and not the open-mouthed shock that was your first response once you realized that it was indeed you. As you stride towards the Stage with confidence, Gaius provides commentary. "Looks like this one's ready for it, Lucy."
When you answer Templesmith's question up on the stage, you see your own smile and think you look like a career, menacing and dashing in equal measure. You look eager, almost happy to have been chosen and you didn't see this in the moment but the camera cuts to Willow and she's looking at you with an expression of pure disgust. This...may be a problem.
The voice of Lucretia Tannenbaum makes you want to pierce your eardrums. She puts a finger to her lips. "Oh, but look at that jawline…He's a looker!" The camera zooms in on Willow's face. "Oho, she's not liking Sparrow here stealing her thunder, Gaius."
"Clearly not!" The bruised grape chuckles. "Looks like we've got two contenders from 12 this year, one eighteen, the other seventeen." He rubs his pale little hands together. "The odds are certainly in their favor." They both chuckle and share a look that says they don't believe that for a second.
Honorius looks over at you while the scene changes from the commentary booth to the main square in the largest town in District 11. "Capitol will be paying attention to you, that's for sure. So will 1, 2 and 4. Whether they want to take you out first or be your ally will depend on how many other threats there are in the field."
You nod, having figured as much.
"And now for the home district of our reigning victor!" Lucretia crows.
"District 11!" Gaius exclaims, like the audience might have forgotten.
The sight was about the same as it was every year. Some cheeks looked less sunken and the kids a bit better fed than the year before thanks to the food parcels from Chaff's victory but folks didn't suddenly decide that they liked Reaping Day any. The crowd is silent and sullen, no doubt having just been forced to watch that awful film they show every year. You assume that they show the same clip to all the districts, anyway.
The escort for District 11 is a flighty wisp of a woman that looks like she's been completely enameled with gold. If she didn't move, you'd think she was a statue. She picks up one of the top slips from the girl's reaping bowl without hesitation. "Cydonia Valens!"
The shot cuts to a light-skinned girl for District 11 with brown eyes and curly, black locks. She looks shocked at first but her expression quickly morphs into one closer to embarrassment than horror.
When she reaches the stage, the escort gushes over her. "Well aren't you such a sweet little thing. What's going through your mind right now?"
She looks up at the camera with a shy smile. "Oh, well I just can't stop thinking about all the wonderful things I'm going to see in the Capitol." She giggles. "It will be like a dream."
"Smart and adaptable. Like you. Watch out for that one." Honorius sounds genuinely impressed.
Since this is live, when someone from the crowd yells something derogatory, they don't have a chance to edit it out yet. You barely hear it but it's something about bending over and "taking it" from the Capitol though. They limit the shot to the stage as you hear shouts from the crowd. You have no doubt that peacekeepers are finding the agitator.
The golden escort keeps asking Cydonia more questions while this is going on and, to her credit she only twitches once, her eyes wandering to the crowd, before focusing on the Capitol escort once more, answering her questions with ridiculous, vapid answers that the escort gushes over. Chaff and Seeder are in the background with stony expressions on their faces.
When order is finally restored, the escort picks a slip out of the boy's reaping bowl. "Huck!"
The two commentators titter and laugh like they do whenever someone without a last name is reaped from the districts. Most kids at the Home didn't have one. You only did because your mother left a name when she gave you up as a baby. Only when folks got married did they always have to have a last name. Chaff and Seeder didn't have last names and that was common enough for District 11, you've noticed.
The camera finds a small, terrified boy. He had to be twelve, thirteen at the most, and he takes the slowest, stiffest steps towards the stage that you've seen so far. Even though the two young boys look nothing alike, you can't help but think of Briar. What would you have done if it had been him? Would you have taken his place? Would you still be speeding aboard a bullet train to your death? You'd like to think you would do it, be brave enough to take his place, but you can't be sure. You can't give yourself credit for something that would never happen. You hope someone else kills Huck quickly because you're not sure you'd be able to. It would be like killing Briar.
No one takes Huck's place, and the square is deathly silent when the escort calls for a round of applause for the two tributes. Gaius laughs. "No wonder they're not in the Hunger Games spirit, Lucy. Looks like there won't be repeat this year!"
Lucretia readily agrees "Oh, yes but I'm sure that darling Cydonia will do just fabulous!" before signing off with. "This has been a live broadcast of the Reaping at District 11. Stay tuned for the live reapings at 9, 10, 8, 4, and 7 in the next two hours." The scene switches back to the commentator's booth. "Happy Hunger Games!"
Gaius does that weird pointing thing with his finger again. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
The screen goes out, the base of the projector displaying a ten-minute countdown, and you're filled with a dark disgust. You'd seen this all play out for almost as long as you can remember but you could always tune out before, watch without seeing, hear without listening. Now you had to pay attention. Your life depended on it.
Honorius speaks in a softer voice than you've heard before. "It's never easy to see the little ones up there. Best you can hope for is that it'll be quick for them."
To the credit of District 2, you've never seen their tributes draw out the death of a twelve or thirteen year old. They were still dead though. "Ten more of these," You say.
The old victor nods solemnly. "Ten more."
When it's time for District 9, they show shots of the waving fields of grain that provides tesserae and wheat to the nation and rows upon rows of corn, ground into meal or sent down to 10 to feed the livestock. It makes you want to throw something at the projection when they show laughing children frolicking in the crop fields, chasing and tackling each other, saying "Gotcha" and mimicking a stab or thrust.
"Oho!" crows Lucretia. "The escort for 9 has really outdone themselves this year, who is it Gaius?"
The scene cuts back to the commentator's booth while Bickleton looks down at a piece of paper. "Ah, Caesar Flickerman! Wondrous job, young man!"
The scene cuts to the main town of District 9 in front of the grand Justice Building of red brick and white columns. The weather is beautiful, just like it was in 12, with the sun shining down on a crowd full of blond hair.
The man who commands the stage as the Capitol escort is Caesar Flickerman, dressed all in a blue-purple, laughing and telling jokes that only get token laughs from the most sycophantic of the district officials. He'd been working his way up the districts, moving up the ladder almost every year. Unlike some escorts, he never mocked the tributes or his district and always made these intro videos which were intended to make the Capitol take notice but always made you sick to your stomach.
He goes over to the girls' bowl, taking a slip with a single solemn motion and reading off the name with a voice that boomed across the square. "Hebna Mayze!"
The girl, fifteen at most, looks like a rabbit caught in a trap, her eyes wide and fearful. She doesn't move at all until the peacekeepers come and get her, being more gentle than they likely would have been if the cameras weren't rolling. Flickerman beckons to her. "Come on now, don't be shy!"
She nearly trips going up the stairs, forgetting to hold up her long prairie dress. When she reaches her spot, Flickerman asks her, "My dear, aren't you surprised?"
The pale, freckled girl with reddish blonde hair doesn't answer for a few seconds, her eyes wide and pleading, before she mutters out a weak. "Yes."
Flickerman laughs but somehow it doesn't come across as mocking. "Oh, well I am too! You're such a darling."
Once he asks for volunteers and everyone remains silent, the girl begins to sob, and the camera crew quickly cut her out of the shot. That was strange. Usually, they delight in the fear of children, but it seems that they want to focus on the boys' reaping. Flickerman selects the slip with just as much care as he did with the girls.
Once he reads off the slip, "Buck Cooper!", the crowd starts muttering and you notice a few adults in the background smiling.
A boy from one of the middle rows, so fourteen or fifteen as well, comes forward on his own. Almost outpacing the peacekeepers, although his head is lowered, and you can see some red blisters on his forehead.
"That's it," Flickerman says, motioning with his arm for the boy to ascend the steps. As Buck finally takes his place, he lifts his head and... well, he was not a handsome boy even without all the acne, but Flickerman doesn't comment on it. "A bit eager there, aren't we?"
Buck thins his lips before responding. "I... I jus… I jus don't wanna embar... embarrass my folks...mo... more than I got... gotta." The sentence is painfully slow, Buck stopping at almost every syllable to make sure he got it right.
The commentators hoot and holler like they've never heard something so funny in their life while Flickerman just gives him a look of pity. "I'm sure you'll do District 9 proud, Buck."
Another call for volunteers is made but the crowd is just as silent as before and the hosts change the scene to District 10, where the ground is just as flat as 9 but there are no crops only cattle, as far as the eye can see. The square is one of the largest in Panem and packed with wholesome ranchers who smile and wave at the cameras, tipping their cowboy hats as you see some of the brown-skinned workers and ranch hands scowl behind them.
The mood is more festive that 11 and 9 but that's not saying much. They show shots of grilling meat skewers and families preparing picnics on the lawn outside the reaping pens, waiting hopefully for their children to survive another year. The escort is a ridiculous looking woman, even by Capitol standards, with tattoos covering most of her body. She's practically vibrating with excitement as she pulls the slip for the girls. "Carina Perez!"
The majority of the crowd, rich residents of District 10's largest town clap as a brown-skinned girl with delicate features and a defeated expression on her face walks calmly to her doom. The shot zooms in, showing the tears in her eyes as a little girl behind the pen screams. The camera finds a mother and father holding a little girl, maybe seven or eight, as she thrashes in their arms, struggling to reach her sister.
Lucretia laughs. "How adorable, throwing a tantrum because her sister is getting all the glory!"
Gaius titters along with her. "Oh, yes. She must be so jealous. Don't worry, little one. You'll be old enough soon, and you can be just like your sister."
The two commentators continue to prattle on, commenting on the patriotic spirit of their stalwart ranchers who never fail to provide their yearly quota of meat to the Capitol. They wink and smile for the Capitol audience and you don't think you've ever seen them say something so blatant in the recaps that District 12 was forced to watch.
You turn to ask Honorius, "Who gets to watch this full version?"
He frowns. "Only 1, 2, and the Capitol itself. We're using my mentor codes from 2 to access the broadcast. Sometimes they throw in hints for us. It's worth suffering through the inside jokes."
"Otis Hyde!" The next name echoes through the square but this time the clapping is more subdued. It's a rancher's son. It has to be.
From the front of the 18-year-old section steps forward a grown man dressed like a cowboy with a scruffy brown beard. You already know that the Capitol will go nuts for him.
The escort is practically creaming herself when he steps up to the stage. "Oh my, aren't you such a handsome wrangler, you…" She fans herself to the laughter of the commentators while the shot catches Perez smiling slightly. You think even though she probably couldn't kill Mr. Beefcake, she's glad that a rich kid got picked. "...do you have anything to say to the nation of Panem?"
Hyde smiles for the camera and it doesn't look too forced. "I'll do the Capitol and District 10 proud, miss. Don't you dare count me out."
The escort nearly faints at having such a strong tribute. "Wouldn't dream of it, darling"
As the shot pans out and the two tributes shake hands, Lucretia Tannenbaum begins the transition. "So, there we go! District 10! Carina Perez and Otis Hyde! Do you think they can work together, Gaius?"
The scene changes to the commentators' booth once more and Gaius visibly contemplates the question holding his chinless jaw in his hands. "Well, it would certainly help District 10's chances but there can only be one victor!"
The projector goes off again after their closing comments on 10 and the countdown begins again. You look over to Honorius who's looking down at a small device on his wrist. It's not a watch, no watch you've ever seen has a holo screen. "What is it?" you ask.
He doesn't look up from the stream of information. "Hmm. Name change for District 2's female volunteer. Someone must have got cold feet."
"You know who's it's going to be before the reaping?" you ask.
Honorius hums. "We hand pick the tributes each year. There's enough eager for it that only one out of twenty who make it all the way through the program are chosen. Sometimes certain years have better prospects than others. You have to fit the personality with the mood of the Capitol and hope that one of yours comes home."
You don't feel any connection or sympathy with twos but you're still a bit curious. "Who are they this year?"
Honorius laughs. "I want to see what you make of them first before I tell you all about them. I know their favored weapons, what makes them tick, their favorite fruit, the other trainees they've fucked. It's all in my files."
You grumble as the holo projector flares back to life, the two commentators making some joke about District 8. "...but the Reaping is one-size-fits-all!" They both laugh and you can't believe you have to sit through eight more of these.
District 8 is urban with factories as far as the eye can see. There's no smoke billowing out of them, but you can imagine what it might look like and how filthy the place must be when those plants are running. The escort for District 8 looks like she hates her job. That was unusual for these chipper shepherds of children to the slaughterhouse of the Capitol. She's decked out in the latest Capitol fashion which seems to be neon green, tall wigs and enameled dresses that shine. Hers is a hot pink.
"Welcome! Welcome!" She looks around at the crowd but shares their lack of enthusiasm. When she pulls the slip from the girl's bowl, she purses her lips but still reads the name with enthusiasm. "Georgette Dillon!"
Shouts of protest and mutters erupt from the crowd and the local peacekeepers, whose uniforms are a little more off-white than the others, stiffen. You wonder what could be worse than the normal lottery of sending kids to their death. Your eyes widen when you see her. She's pregnant. Nearly to bursting pregnant. She comes forward from the 17-year-old section sobbing and heaving and even the peacekeepers look uncomfortable, one of them holding her up when she almost trips.
When she gets to the stage, the escort doesn't even ask her any questions, she turns to the crowd. "Are there any volunteers?"
Silence. Deafening silence...but then there's a shout. It's not female though. "Cowards! You're all cowards!" There's a young man behind the reaping pen with tears streaming down his face.
Honorius glares at the projection. "Shouldn't have knocked her up in the first place now, should you?"
This was... you don't recall something like this ever happening before. This was worse than Huck. It was fucked up.
The Commentators are practically falling over themselves trying to reassure the audience that the Capitol would never place the baby in danger. "The Capitol has only the best doctors, I'm sure the baby can be saved," says Lucretia.
"Oh, most certainly," agrees Gaius.
It sickens you that with all the children that they watch get brutally murdered every year, an unborn child is where they draw the line.
"This would never happen in 2," says Honorius. "...or 4. This is why we train, to prevent shit like this." The old victor gets up from his chair and walks over to the open bar, pouring himself three fingers of an amber liquid that you assume to be some Capitol liqueur.
The boys are next. "Denim Flanders!"
Thin as a rail, a black-haired boy from the middle of the rows comes up to the stage as if in a daze. You think he's doing okay until a dark patch forms at the front of his beige trousers. The two tributes shake hands unsteadily, sobbing, and the escort looks at the camera like it's her worst enemy. District 8 just can't catch a break. Last year they had two thirteen-year-olds who held each other screaming as they were dragged away by peacekeepers. This year was somehow worse.
4 was next. You get up to go find Willow because you think she'll want to see the first of the careers. Before you can get far though, Honorius grabs you by the collar. "Where do you think you're going?"
You pull away but can't get out of his grip. "Willow should see the careers."
He huffs. "She said she wanted to see the monsters. Fours aren't monsters, not like us."
You snarl. "I don't think she'll appreciate the difference."
He lets you go, wiping his hand off on his clay red jacket as if he's touched something filthy. "She doesn't appreciate much, that girl. If she doesn't want my help, then fine. Only one of you is coming out of that arena and if I gotta focus on the one who just might listen to a damn thing I say, then I will. Besides, 4 ain't so bad."
You disagree, crossing your arms as you back off towards the hallway. "They train to kill kids."
He downs the rest of his drink in one swig. "They train to survive. You think Mags wanted this for her district?! It was the only way to not have to watch helplessly every fucking year while scared kids go in the arena peeing their pants and wailing helplessly as they're slaughtered."
You huff. "That doesn't make it right."
He sighs, leaning on his cane. "Damn right, it doesn't but that's the way it is. If you want my help, you're going to do what I fucking tell you. I know her type, your partner. She's angry at the world and will only drag you down, forget about her."
"But…"
He cuts you off. "I'm going to go find that fucking peacock, Templesmith, and get him to actually do his job. If you bring Willow back before it's time for District 2, I'll assume that you don't want my help either."
With that, he limps away, opening the door to the escort's car and disappearing inside. You don't know what his angle is. Does he want you weak and divided so the twos can pick their teeth with your bones or does he really want to back you to the hilt at the expense of Willow? Damn it, you think he actually might want to help you, but you don't know if you should take his advice if it means sacrificing Willow. If you can't win, you'd want her to, to feed the kids at the Home and the other starving folks in your district. Although, there was Huck, that pregnant girl… You watched to get the measure of the competition, but you can't help but just see them as in the same situation you are. You don't know how you're going to kill them.
You take a deep breath. One step at a time. It's time to…
[ ] Look for Willow. (She might not want to play the Capitol's game but she needs to watch the damn reapings. She might see things that you don't and it was Honorius' job to help you anyway. He'll come around.)
[ ] Settle back down and prepare yourself to evaluate District 4. (If you want to survive the opening day of the games, you know you should probably learn everything you can about the career pack. Honorius knows 2 like the back of his hand and will probably try to help you get an alliance with 2 or 4. You don't have anything against Willow, you might even try to ally with her in the arena, but there can only be one winner and you need to cover your bases.)
3-HOUR MORATORIUM!!!
If you'd like to chat about the quest more actively, there's a channel dedicated to it on the discord server in my sig. Check it out!
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