The rest of the train ride goes about like this conversation. Rhyette continuously asking questions to increase their chances of survival, the mentors answering quickly, and straight forward. Every now and then the escort would chime in with some annoying "praises" on how brave the tributes were, or something like that. Newt would rather be in Hell than to be on this train...and he doesn't even know what Hell is.

His sister seems so calm, so collected. It's almost like she has been expecting this day her entire life. Then again, he's sure that she has; after all she put her name in for years. The feeling he had the past few months...the fear...she has had it since their very first reaping. She was ready. She had years to be ready. She's going to make it further than him...and at this point, he's starting to wonder if it would even bother her. His shoulders slowly begin to sink into his ribs. He starts to feel sick and rises from his seat, rushing to the bathroom of the train car.

"Newt-" Rhyette stands to follow her brother, but she is stopped by her mentors.

"Sit down. We still have work to do." The mentors continue to discuss tips and strategies with Rhyette. Newt remains in the bathroom for the rest of the train ride.

—————————————————————————

Newt is sitting on the floor in the bathroom of the train car. He isnt a fan of the conversations the others are having. They have no chance of survival. None. Thats the whole point of the Hunger Games. It is meant to kill. People are supposed to die. The whole point of this entire event is for the Capitol to bestow feargain controland kill anyone who gets in their way.

Newt knows what happened to his father was no accident. Mr. Wheatley was a part of a small uprising in District 9, protesting the Hunger Games. His father was always outspoken about what he believed. Newt always admired that about himthough he doesnt believe he could have the same bravery as his father. Newt agreed with everything Mr. Wheatley stood for; he still does. He could never tell his sister about all of this. She wouldnt understand. She always thought that their father was reckless, stupid; that he took unnecessary risks.

Maybe Rhyette is right; the risks their father took were unnecessary. His plan didnt work. It failed. Everyone that was a part of the uprising was killed. It destroyed their familykilled their motherit WAS stupid. But maybe his father had the right idea. He had the right intentionshe just didnt have the right impact. After all, his father didnt make a big enough stance. There werent enough peopleand they were all from the same district. The rebellion was ended as soon as it started. What his father needed was a way to grab everyones attention.

As the train car continues to glide down the tracks to the Capitol, Newt wracks his brain for a new plan. A plan that would work. There has to be something, and he is going to figure it out.

—————————————————————————

"An interesting bunch of tributes this year," the president explains to the head game-maker. "I think we picked quite the bunch, don't you?"

"Very interesting bunch, indeed," she pauses for a moment. "Not that I mind this conversation, but I was under the impression that you wanted to speak with me about something more urgent." She turns to the president, wearing her suit. She is dressed professionally 24/7, as the head game-maker she must keep her appearance sharp.

"That I did," the president continues. "I wanted to speak with you about some of your tributes." He clears his throat, and gestures towards a small table in his garden. "Shall we sit?" The head game-maker nods, taking a seat at the tiny glass table.

"Which tributes did you have in mind, sir?"

"Well, the most pressing matter would have to be your tribute from District 8."

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⏰ Cập nhật Lần cuối: Nov 22, 2023 ⏰

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