The
24th Hunger Games: Part Two: The Capitol
By
Lauren Price
They
hadn’t gotten far off the train before they were herded into a nearby building,
and again separated. Ashley didn’t seem
to care as more Capitol people swarmed them, whispering about all the work that
had to be done. The two that had taken
him could only glance at his hand, gasping at its ruined appearance. One -a female- laid her hand on his shoulder,
sympathy clouding her eyes. “If you win,
we could have that fixed,” she smiled reassuringly.
He
had never thought about having his hand fixed; had never had the technology or
opportunity to even attempt it.
“Really?” There was no actual
interest in his voice, but the question delighted her, her magenta colored
eyebrows almost meeting her similarly colored hair.
“Of
course! Anything is possible,” she gave
a light laugh, leading him into a stall with metal walls, lights flickering on
at their presence. “Sit, sit.” He was nearly pushed down onto a bedlike
table, the woman looking through a row of strange tools that had been laid out.
“So
much to be done. Deeva will have a lot
of work ahead of her,” the man murmured, keeping his voice low.
“I
believe the better phrase is, “a new canvas”.”
Another woman with dark yellow hair stood in the entrance of the stall,
the light reflecting off her almost golden eyes. They were technically brown, but the flecks
of gold mixed in were so bright they cast the brown into shadow. A smile graced her lips as she studied him,
forming plans in her head. “No, he is
perfect. Just tweak a few things here
and there, and he will be ready for the Capitol.”
He hadn’t expected her
to think of him as anything near perfect, no one, not even those of his
district, had ever thought that. “The
question is if they will be ready for him.”
Kaede didn’t need to look at the other two in the stall to know they
were as caught off guard with that statement.
They had gone rigid, their mouths opened in surprise. Deeva though didn’t react, instead leaving as
quickly as she had appeared, that smile still planted firmly on her face.
The
man and woman went back to work, trimming, and cleaning every last bit of him,
their expressions firm and uncertain.
Kaede could feel the minutes slowly morph into an hour as he sat there
being prodded, his body feeling unusually lighter. When they finally finished, Deeva returned
and they left without a word. “What is
the point of all this?” He could feel
the new weightlessness of his hair, now only an inch at most off his head.
“The
Games have always had an aspect of glamour and pomp to them. No one wants to see a cast of ragged children
going at each other. It’s unsightly.” She sat down across from him, still looking
more at his body than simply just him.
“I am your stylist, assigned by the Capitol.”
“And
what exactly does that mean?”
Her
smile deepened, those eyes sparkling.
“It means I help you look desirable,” she stated simply. “You are going to want sponsors, especially
with that hand of yours. I and my
abilities will ensure you catch the eye of said sponsors.”
“Who
would want to sponsor me, and why?”
Berkeley had said nothing of this aspect of the games, hadn’t even
hinted at it.
“Citizens
of the Capitol sponsor their favorite tributes, and send items that are vital
to their survival in the arena.” The
smile faltered into a frown. “Has your
mentor said nothing of this to you?”
“No.”
“Then
you had better ask him. I am simply in
charge of your time here in the Capitol.”
She patted him on the knee and stood.
“I won’t be able to help you out there.”
A sadness crept into her voice as she walked to the doorway. “I’ll see you in a while, Kaede.”
“What
do you mean?”
“Tonight at the chariots,” she said. “I still need to make a few adjustments to
your outfit. But when it’s done you will
be perfect.” She didn’t give him a
chance to respond as she left again.
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She
had said perfect, but he felt ridiculous in the outfit. It had been picked to represent his district,
but that meant it had to involve trees.
Trees weren’t exactly the most fashionable, or flattering topic for
clothes. To make it worse, he could see
the Careers as they prepared to get in the first two chariots, both pairs looking
excruciatingly better than the other ten districts around them.
One
of the taller boys, from district two, he figured, stared back at him, his eyes
forming a hard glare. “I’ve done all I
can,” Deeva said, blocking his view of the other boy. “The rest is up to you.” She sounded less than hopeful, but the smile
on her face made him question that assumption.
“I
would hide that hand to give yourself at least a chance.” Berkeley walked up to the two, his expression
carefully blank. “Sponsors are less
likely to support you if they think you won’t make it,” he said simply.
Kaede
stared down at his hand, but nodded, working out the placement of it
already. “Come on. They are about to call for the
chariots.” Berkeley helped him up,
showing silently where he should hide his hand.
Ashley joined him in the chariot, but without a single word, not even failing
to give a look of annoyance to him.
Ahead
of them, the first chariot rattled forward, clearing the large hangar like room
they had all been prepared in, and into the night. From where they were waiting, he couldn’t see
anything but the darkness, and a few flashing lights, everything else
obstructed by the white walls of the room.
One
by one, the chariots fell into a line, the horses kept at a trot as they each
led themselves out of the building. The
white walls were quickly replaced with the night sky, but on either side of the
wide road they were on, there were stands filled with Capitol citizens. A light shone on them as they made their
progression to the building at the far end of the road. It was taller than any of the others that
surrounded them, a screen propped up on it showing the sitting figure of a
middle aged man. He was important, maybe
the president, but for some unknown reason the man’s expression never changed
from a bored frown.
“Smile,
you idiot. You look like an imbecile,”
Ashley snapped beside him, a stretched smile covering the anger she had for
him. Her voice though, was hard to hear
over the clamor of cheers from the stands around them. As an example, she waved at the crowds,
smiling like they were her favorite people.
A part of him felt disgusted at the acting, but he realized the point of
it enough to know what it meant to winning.
He followed her in waving, but his smile was thin, hardly concealing the
uneasiness or bitterness that came with being made a tribute.
Whatever
the Capitol people read from their expressions, it didn’t affect them, each of
the stands seeming louder and louder as they progressed down the road. The roar stilled his hand for that moment,
and he felt the fear catch up to him, felt it fully take root. They were cheering for children that they
would soon watch not just die, but kill one another. It was a thought that sickened him to the
core. He continued to wave, but now the
smile wouldn’t even come back, leaving him in between the smile and frown,
hopelessly lost in the cheering.
Once
they had made it to the end of the road, all the chariots made a wide crescent formation
in front of the building, only then coming to a halt. The screen showed the man standing and coming
to the podium above them, his frown still visible, though there was a small
smile forming slowly. “Welcome
tributes!” He made a motion with his
hands, indicating all the chariots below him.
“This is a wonderful and grand occasion for us all. To witness the strength, honor, courage, and
sacrifice that the Hunger Games bring us.”
The smile came to fruition as he continued making his speech.
“For
you, the tributes this is a chance to find out your potential and vie for the
chance to be victor!” He made it sound
glorious, nothing like the image of wasteful death that Kaede had formed in his
mind.
“For
the citizens of the Capitol, it is our chance to witness the moment when they
become all they can be. To witness the
birth of a victor!” A cheer rose in the
crowd, and Kaede could feel the vibration of it in the chariot, the sound
turning his blood cold.
“We
acknowledge your sacrifice, tributes!”
The smile was beginning to scare him, and the line itself reminded him
of what his parents used to tell him the Romans had declared to the Gladiators,
who they had knowingly sent to their deaths.
They were dismissed by that line, the chariots slowly making their way
into an area under the building. He
didn’t breathe until the chariot came to a stop in front of Berkeley, Devri,
and Deeva, who only appeared to be proud.
“You
did well! You both looked so splendid
out there. Almost even on par with
Districts One and Two.” Deeva embraced
them, a wide grin casting her eyes into a flicker of gold.
“At
least they are making my job easy enough,” Berkeley replied. He was serious again, the congratulations
over for now. “There are already
sponsors interested in the two of you, though they won’t commit until the
scoring.”
Ashley
grumbled beside him, letting the air of happiness disappear. “And why not?”
Because
tributes from District Seven don’t have an outstanding track-record. No one wants to gamble on an unknown.”
It
made enough sense. “I take it the
Careers already have sponsors.”
“Of
course.” Berkeley shrugged, and glanced
in the direction of the group, casually observing the lethal tributes. “They are
worth the early commitment. Typically at
least.” He stopped staring at the group,
and looked back at them. “Let’s go. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be rough
on the two of you.”
“What
about tomorrow?” Ashley was picking at
her outfit, trying to hide the scowl that he was starting to realize might have
been a permanent feature.
“Training
tomorrow, Scoring the day after. Unless
one of you knew more about fighting and survival than I thought you did.” They followed him into an elevator, Deeva and
Devri coming as well.
“I
know enough,” Ashley muttered, her ego still being deflated by Berkeley.
Berkeley
looked like he would laugh in that instant, but instead sighed, directing his
full attention to her. “Really? So tell me when it’s a good idea to set a
fire,” he half yelled at her.
For
once, her frown was gone, and she looked genuinely scared. “At night?”
She nearly whispered back.
Berkeley
shook his head, and kneaded his forehead, calming down a little. “Never.
Fires are like flashing beacons for other tributes to come slit your
throat while it’s easy.” The elevator
door opened, and he walked into a bright, open room. “These are your living quarters,” he said
with one hand motioning at the large space.
“Go ahead and get settled. I’m
going to sleep.”
“But
what about tomorrow?” Berkeley had said
something about training, but the word seemed vague.
“Learn
as much as you can. I’ll talk to you
afterwards about the scoring.”
“Thank
you, Berkeley.”
All
he received for reply at first was a sigh of frustration. “Don’t thank me yet, kid. My conscious can’t take that pressure right
now.”
Kaede nodded and let him disappear into a nearby room,
making his own way down the hall to another.
The room he stepped in was as large as the home he had grown up in, and
though it was sparsely furnished, the bed seemed inviting enough. He hardly had any energy left after the
Reaping, and chariot ride. The bed
didn’t even creak as he splayed himself out on it, basking in its luxurious
softness. It was sad that the cost of
such comfort was death, otherwise it could have been worth it. He stared up at the bare ceiling, trying to
form some kind of plan of attack for the next day. Berkeley wanted him to learn, but what would
even help him out in that bloodbath of arena?
For all he could figure out, there were two sides to becoming the
victor; those that hid and focused on survival, and those who killed until they
were the only ones left. He didn’t
really fit into either group, he wasn’t a straight out killer, and hiding
seemed like an even worse concept. But
did that mean that he would have to change in order to simply live? He fell asleep to those thoughts, letting
them churn in his mind as he dozed off, not committing to anything no matter
how much he truly thought on it.
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After
only a few, brief instructions, and reminder not to kill each other yet, they
had been left to figure out the training room for themselves. Only a small portion of the tributes made a
move to grapple with the weapons that had been laid out on multiple racks. The Careers had taken over immediately,
claiming weapons that made the weaker tributes shrink back, already fearing for
their lives.
Out
of the weapons provided, he saw only one axe, which sat right next to where the
District one boy had set up his sword practice.
He wouldn’t be practicing with the axe if he had to be near a Career. Taking a calming breath, he moved on to the
next station. He tried not to flinch as
he heard the thud that came from the dummy losing portions of his body at a
time, the machete slashing through him like it was butter. The District Two boy, Mason, was merciless,
cutting at the inanimate object. Fear
was the only thing the act could inspire from its viewer. He paused momentarily from his dismembering
to grin at Kaede, his eyes dark with a promise of death. Kaede continued walking, and picked up a long
blade, swinging it a little in the air.
“And
what exactly do you plan to do with that?”
A snide voice questioned from beside him at the station. He looked up from the blade to see one of the
Careers staring back at him, but not with condemnation, but a quizzical
expression. Her blonde hair was tied
back in a long braid that hung loosely behind her, but his gaze fell on the
spear that she held.
“Practice.” She didn’t reply to that, but he could see
one of her eyebrows raise before she shrugged, and got into a stance, her
concentration on the targets before them.
In one swift motion, the spear was out of her hand, and into the air,
hitting the target dead in the center.
She let out a sigh of happiness as she realized where it had hit, and
Kaede found himself staring at the blade in his hands, and back at the axe he
had walked past before. Berkeley had
said practice, and while he was sure he had meant to prepare himself for the
survival part, Kaede couldn’t find any interest in that. He was already walking before he knew what he
was doing; already had the axe in hand before the Careers even took notice of
him being so close to them.
The axe wasn’t like the one he had used at home, but its
shape and form were familiar enough. His
hand fell into place on the handle, Kaede walking back over to the Career girl,
and stepping up beside her, getting into his own stance. With a hard stare at the targets, he loosed
the large axe, letting it spin in the air and hit another target right where he
had aimed. The room fell silent around
him, the Careers still watching him, most likely calculating how much of a
threat he was now. He wanted to gloat,
to let them know how much he wanted that to scare them, but he knew that would
only make him target number one. Instead,
he pulled the axe out of the target, not with his right hand, but left, letting
them see how useless his hand truly was.
It wouldn’t have been able to hold the axe for long, but they didn’t
need to know that. He smiled to himself
as they all showed even a little surprise at the action. He wasn’t out of the standings yet at least. The gloating clouded his mind of all the
suggestions Berkeley had given him, Kaede continuing to focus solely on the
familiar axe, throwing it, and swinging it at the dummies the Careers had been
using earlier. It was almost like being
back at home, and secretly practicing in the field behind his house. Free of judgment from others, and free to not
have to think for once. He could lose
himself in the naturalness the axe gave to him.
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He
should have experimented with the survival equipment that had been provided in
the training room. Or at least have had
the sense to try out other weapons. He
now regretted that as he waited to be called into the scoring room. No one stared at him here, all the other
tributes thinking about only themselves now, not calculating anything at this
point until when the scores would be released.
The Careers were already gone, but the waiting room was still silent,
everyone focused on what they would do to gain their scores.
“District
Seven. Kaede Johnson.” Ashley watched him as he stood, and walked
through the gate, her own nervousness making her seem caring in that
moment. The room he stepped into was
expansive, but only somewhat lit, most of the lights focused on a small
area. Placed in that small area were the
racks of weapons that he had seen in the training room, but now there was no
pressure from fellow tributes to avoid it.
Above the area was a sitting area where men of all ages sat staring
bored already at his entrance. It was as
silent as the waiting area, but now he felt inclined to speak, to announce
himself.
“District Seven.
Kaede Johnson,” he repeated what the speaker from before had said,
taking an axe off the rack. He didn’t
fail to notice how their expressions remained unimpressed, already counting him
off their lists before he had even started.
He grabbed the single axe off the rack, and tested its weight. It was just like the one he had used the day
before down to the coloring. He looked
back up at the men, feeling their stares on him as he stepped up to the line,
eyes on the targets in front of him.
Their disapproval annoyed him, but he merely swung the axe in his hand,
letting it cross hands for a second, and then fall back into his right, not
even making the stance as he threw the axe.
He didn’t look at them; didn’t look at the target as the axe met the
metal dummy, simply turning on his heel, and walking out of the room. He didn’t need to see if they were impressed,
didn’t need to check if he had missed or not.
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“You
just left?” Devri looked at him like he
was an entirely different person, and wasn’t sure how to figure him out.
“Yeah. I don’t need their approval.” Berkeley snorted from beside him, even as
Ashley glared at him.
“You
didn’t help me out with your show,” she huffed, sitting on the couch with
them. “They just sat there at first,
like they didn’t know how to move or speak.”
Berkeley
laughed instead of sympathizing for her, clapping Kaede on the back. “You really showed them what a District Seven
tribute can do!”
Ashley
didn’t drop it, her eyes on the television screen. “I just hope my score is decent.”
“After
Days of careful evaluation, our tribute’s scores have been realeased!” The announcer let out a sound of glee,
shuffling the papers before him. “From
District One, Chrome,” The picture of
the tall and skinny career flitted on the screen. “with a score of ten.” Berkeley nodded, already having figured that
out.
“They
always get high scores,” he said solemnly.
The announcer continued, showing a picture of the girl he had practiced
beside in the training room.
“Lux
with a score of eight.” Her picture
passed off screen, and then the boy who had grinned at him replaced her.
“From
District Two, Mason with a score of eleven.”
Berkeley now seemed less certain as he saw the number, and it only made
Kaede feel icy inside.
“You’re
going to have to keep an eye out for him.
He will be trouble.”
Kaede
nodded, his eyes not leaving the television.
“I figured as much.” Pictures and
numbers flitted on and off the screen, but he couldn’t find himself finding
much interest when the other tribute’s scores were much lower than the
Career’s. Then the announcer came to his
district. “From District Seven, Kaede,”
there was a pause as the man looked at the score, and his eyebrows rose. “with a score of nine.” A low whistle issued from Berkeley, and Kaede
found that he himself was as surprised as the others.
“And
Ashley with a score of six.” He felt her
anger then, but for some reason didn’t feel the need to fear it, or worry over
it. Her score was her own, and his
actions had nothing to do with her’s. It
could have been the high score talking, but she had written him off from the
beginning, not the other way around. If
she regretted her words, she would have to be the one to mend the gap, because
he was no longer willing to play friend anymore.
They
were supposed to watch the entire sequence of tributes and scores, but when he
simply sat there staring blankly, Berkeley had sent him away, and he had ended
up on the balcony. He didn’t leave the
small space for another several hours, letting the breeze tousle his hair, and
make him feel less doomed. In the
distance, he could still hear the sound of the Capitol parties, but instead of
feeling bitter, he found himself relaxing to the sound, losing himself in his
thoughts, or rather absence of them. There
would be plenty of time for thinking when he reached the arena, and the idea of
that alone stilled his mind, allowing him to sit there and simply get lost in
the moment. Tomorrow would catch up to
him anyway.
***I don't own the picture, or concept of the Hunger Games. The story and characters though are products of my imagination.*** If interested in the series, this is part two, and part one is also up if you check out the 24th Hunger Games tab on the site. Happy Reading! Part 3 will be up in early October at the latest due to school, but it will be here, I promise!
