A Circus of Eagles [An HG Fanfic]

Copper

The Copper sector is never still. In Platinum, Silver and Amethyst the reapings are done. The tributes have said goodbye and are being shuttled into the towering Tribute Center in the sector-less geographical center of the district. In Garnet the word-savvy inhabitants are arranging themselves in the pens and waiting for the blatant propaganda about to be thrown their way; it takes more than some flashy special effects to impress them. And yet life in the Copper sector still buzzes on as normal.

Sort of.

"Less work more pay!"

"What do we want?" Indiscriminate murmuring; the Copper sector wants a lot. "When do we want it?"

"Now!"

That they can agree on. The small crowd in front of the train station was only twenty-strong this morning. By now, fuelled by the broadcasts of the reapings and the overspill of bad feeling, it fills the streets. Lack of a unified cause has never stopped the traders of the Capitol and among the protesters are teenagers with their overalls hanging open to reveal their designer t-shirts and young children hoisted onto the shoulders of their parents.

Rebel organisers and Peacekeepers line the protest, keeping things under control until it is time to shuttle it over to the reaping square. The station workers strike often and this is nothing too unusual. Avoxes have been drafted in from elsewhere to cover the gap and they work on diligently behind the gleaming marble arches, emptying the trains of lumber, cloth, meat and grains. As long as the work is done, it doesn't matter if the Capitol workers are unhappy. They won't starve. And they don't get paid when they strike.

The cry goes up again: "What do we want?"

"Faster access to the Neon sector!"

"Longer breaks!"

"Paid paternity leave!"

"Lunch!"

"Boutique discounts!"

"Workplace-funded gym memberships!"

The list goes on and on. The relationship between Copper and the rest of the Capitol has always been a little sour. Compared to the workers in the districts they have had a good life, but next to the glowing luxury of the Platinum, Gold and Silver sectors or the vivid lifestyle of Garnet, Amethyst and Neon, the need to work in overalls grates away at the collective, hive-like conscience of the traders. After all, why should their fun be limited to the close-of-work hours?

Someone has located a megaphone. A girl with lurid purple spikes grabs it eagerly and waves it in the air as people cheer. Next to her a buzzing crowd of friends jostle her arms, demanding a speech, and she laughs as two of them haul her onto their shoulders. Movement ripples through the crowd. Heads turn towards her and then slide away as they spot the two Peacekeepers striding forwards, batons ready. A few people begin to melt away to the square, trying and failing to look nonchalant. The ring of Peacekeepers let them pass; their job is to apprehend troublemakers and the girl with the megaphone is top priority.

She has spotted the approaching Peacekeepers. Buoyed by the approval of her friends, she shouts something unintelligible at them and the two people holding her up spin around and run, to the amusement of the children in the crowd. She shrieks in delight, holding on for dear life as the two friends try to run in different directions. The megaphone crackles. As the Peacekeepers push their way through the people suddenly streaming in the other direction her other friends form rows, ranks of towering youths with elaborate hairstyles and painted faces, and stand their ground. They are brushed aside easily. The taller of the Peacekeepers darts forward and yanks her to the ground, which she hits with a thump and a cry. The other snatches the megaphone.