✦ Chapter 14: Conditions ✦
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THEY'VE BEEN USING Peeta as a counter-attack against Katniss. Whenever Katniss appears on air, the Capitol scrambles to get Peeta ready for a broadcast. Isla hasn't seen Johanna yet, which concerns her. Although, the last time Peeta was on the television, trying to claim Katniss was also in the dark and asking for a cease fire, he looked alright. In good shape, even. But that's because they need him to look presentable. Johanna is never on screen, which means they might've already disposed of her if they have no use for her.
Isla hasn't had much of a chance to see anyone or do anything. She can look out of the large windows on her floor, overlooking the streets of the city, but the only person who comes to see her is Orion. She has tried multiple times to squeeze more information out of him, but ever since that first day, he's completely blocked her out. Any inkling of him being on her side is now gone. She understands, though. He's likely just looking out for himself.
Like clockwork, avox's present dinner at the same time as always. She often eats alone, unless Orion has been permitted to join her. He did explain to her that other than watching her, he's in charge of maintaining an image for the victors in the Capitol. Ensuring that although the few that are in District Thirteen are traitors, the ones that did not escape are still exactly what the citizens used to perceive them as. This is to ensure that after all of the commotion settles, the games can resume as they should.
As Isla goes to sit at the table, she's surprised to hear the elevator door open and close. She looks over to see the white haired man she hasn't seen since waking up in the hospital. He wears an ironed suit, with the signature white rose in the breast pocket. He gives her an almost sinister smile. Maybe it wouldn't seem so sinister if it weren't for the fact she knows whatever he's here for, it won't be good.
"Shall we?" He asks, motioning to the food covered table. Isla nods, and they sit at opposite ends of the table. The servants serve them, rich lamb and custard is laid out before her.
"It's nice to see you again." Isla greets, laying a napkin out on her lap. She's thankful she decided to actually dress for the day today. Often, she'll remain in comfortable silk pyjamas. It's not like she has anywhere to go.
"Yes, likewise, Ms. Dunne." President Snow smirks, preparing himself for the meal.
As they begin to indulge in the feast, Isla feels her anxiety begin to grow. The man hasn't said much, just eats his food and occasionally looks up at her with a smile. She returns it, expressing how delicious the cream on the custard is. He agrees, complimenting the eleventh district for still providing dairy products in bulk.
This information tells Isla that despite being one of the first to rebel, District Eleven is still under strict command of the Capitol. At least in production. Likely, they've had an increase in restrictions and additional peacekeepers sent in, just like District Four.
"So to what do I owe the pleasure of having dinner with the President? I thought you'd be far too busy these days." Isla asks, flickering her glance upwards to watch as Snow slowly finishes chewing his food.
He smiles once more, almost entertained by her question. "The citizens of Panem have not heard of the status of your condition, likewise with Johanna. They've seen Peeta, and I recently released a statement letting the people know that Enobaria is alive and well. Living in the Capitol, and impatiently waiting for life to return to normal." He starts, wiping the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin.
"I have not made a public release on you, as you are still hanging in the balance. Depending on your compliance from this day forward, will predict the type of statement I have to make. Your rescue from the arena was not televised. As far as the people know, you burned in the debris of the arena."
Isla takes a shaky breath. Everyone thinks she's dead, or at least fighting to stay alive in a hospital ward. This gives Snow full control over her destiny. The country isn't waiting on her next catalogue shoot, or fawning over her appearance at parties. They wouldn't know any different if he shot her right here, right now.
"Well, I think we'd better announce my survival then, and where I stand in all of this." Isla hates every inch of the man that sits before her, but, she has to appear to be on his side. On the Capitol's side.
The President chuckles, nodding his head. "Yes, I think your image could be very... useful. However, I know you have an animosity against me and the duties of a victor." Isla's heart nearly stops. He still hasn't given up the one thing she refused to do two years ago. What ended in her mother's death.
"Sir-" She shakes her head, but he holds up a finger to silence her.
"Let me finish. I know what you want to answer. But I sincerely advise you take time to think about your decision this time. Your father has been extremely concerned about your well-being, but he left for a hauling trip this morning. It would be a shame." He shakes his head, clearly disappointed at the thought. "Such a waste."
Isla hates her father. He isn't much leverage over anything. "I don't care much for him. You know that. And if I die, and he has to live with that, good."
"Hm." Snow raises his brow at her response. "I suppose you're right." He places his napkin on his plate, sips from his glass, and makes to stand up.
Isla joins him, holding his gaze as he approaches her. She smells the familiar scent of the rose, mingled with the iron of blood. She can't help but find it ironic how someone with so much blood on their hands can somehow manage to also smell like the red liquid.
"His boat won't be returning tomorrow evening. You have until then to decide if your life is worth more than your pride. This is about more than just doing favours. This is about maintaining the balance." He turns and enters the elevator. His lips curl up behind his beard at the sight of her stunned expression. The doors close, and Isla is left with a sinking feeling within the pit of her stomach.
She's already condemned her father to death. There's no taking that back now. He's useless to Snow alive, but the President knows his death might unlock something within her. Her childhood. The love she used to hold for the man that raised her. Still, she can never forgive her father for making her a part of all of this in the first place. She feels for his death, but it only drives her even more.
Now, it's her life on the line. Prostitute herself, or be killed. Her death to be broadcast as a tragedy of the arena collapsing. The only two people who will know the truth, other than Snow, is Johanna and Peeta. They likely won't survive long enough to ever tell Finnick the truth. He'll forever believe that she was buried beneath the flaming rafters in the Quarter Quell.
He'll forever think that she didn't make it out of that jungle, or at least not far before the Capitol doctors lost her to severe injuries. That she never made it to the Capitol to fulfill their plan of having an inside operator. Plus, their chances of infiltrating the Capitol will be squashed. She has to be more calculated than just dying to prove a point.
If she dies, maybe he'll be sad, or angry that he sacrificed her. That he didn't tell her the plan. That because of his involvement with Katniss Everdeen and the rebels, Isla died and will never come back. She imagined he would feel some guilt. She hopes, anyway. Is her life worth getting revenge on him for leaving her in the dark? Could she do that to him?
Isla has until tomorrow evening to decide if she will partake in the President's sick agenda. To sell herself, likely to rich citizens who he needs to support him in this time of uncertainty. To fund the production of weaponry to be used against her friends and family on the other side of this war.
If she does it, she's truly helping the Capitol win. The President needs the support of the most wealthy and established people to help secure a well equipped battalion. She'll be helping to ensure the destruction of her people. On the other hand, if she refuses, she's killed. Which means the rebels lose any inside influence. They'll have to fight the Capitol blind. That's almost impossible, no matter what technology District Thirteen may have, there's no way to keep up with the Capitol's games.
She only has one choice, and it's to hope that District Thirteen still has the same weaponry that kept the Capitol at bay seventy five years ago. If they have the ammunition to compete with the Capitol, despite Isla's contribution to the Capitol's cause, then her actions won't negatively affect them too much. Her contribution of getting inside information may be worth more than the opposing side having a few more bombs.
After all that she's been through, it's hard for Isla to accept that, in the end, she's right back where she started. Unable to have control over herself, and submitting to the Capitol. She's become a piece in their's and the rebel's games. Not only that, but her mother's death had become for nothing. After refusing to participate in such disgusting acts, and causing her mother's slow and painful death to illness, here she is. Doing exactly what she swore she'd never do. It makes her feel physically sick to her stomach. The custard threatens to rise in her throat.
The television lights up, broadcasting another propaganda piece from the rebels. They're able to infiltrate the Capitol's television network every so often and air something for only a short while before it's cut off. It's Katniss, she's in a destroyed district. It's been bombed, and she looks extremely upset. Rightfully so, as by the looks of it, she narrowly escaped.
She announces that she is in District Eight. The Capitol bombed a makeshift hospital, killing several wounded while Katniss visited. Understandably, the girl is angry. There's no sign of Finnick, either, and the dark haired girl adorns a tight, black armoured suit. Her bow hangs at her side as she yells at the screen.
"Fire is catching, and if we burn, you burn with us!" She yells at the camera, directed at President Snow. She points at a crashed Capitol hovercraft behind her, the wing just visible with the Capitol insignia catching up in flames.
Isla can only imagine the President sitting in his mansion now, having just finished dinner with her. Watching as Katniss broadcasts his wrong doings to the entire country. Threatens him in front of his loyal citizens. She's destroyed two of his aircrafts by the looks of it, too. Those will be expensive, and timely, to replace. Isla will likely be funding those.
The broadcast is cut, the television returning to its normal black screen. Snow likely had his people cut it off short, before anything more could be shown or said. However, the damage is already done. Although the people of the Capitol are oblivious to the realities of the extent of the Capitol's brutality, there's no hiding what is shown right before their eyes. Their president killed hundreds of wounded. Although, he did say that any correlation to the Mockingjay, Katniss' alias, would result in the ultimate price. Death. Katniss essentially condemned all of those injured rebels to death the minute she entered their hospital.
Isla thinks about all of the Capitol citizens, so stupid and naive. They're likely all in shock, too stunned to know what to say. Maybe even too scared to say anything, as they're now aware of just how dangerous their own government is. That their government has no regard for human life, and they can very well be the next on screen death. One wrong move, and they'll start being arrested in the streets, and executed.
The games are no longer the focal point of the country. This rebel plan has escalated to war. Whether the Capitol citizens know that or not, the reality of the situation is war. Eventually, when they're being captured, their houses are being bombed, and the streets aren't safe, they'll finally understand. They'll likely end up being collateral to President Snow and District Thirteen. No one will save them. If anything, they'll be used and abused by whichever side can benefit from them. Although Isla had never particularly liked the people of the Capitol, she does feel sorry for them. They've never known hardships, and now, they're about to be caught in the middle of something with no way out.
They've never known the feeling of being hunted. Or the feeling of having to fight to survive. They won't last long come the real battle. They'll have to hide and hope for the best. They'll be as good as dead. Unless maybe some of the rebels feel an ounce of empathy, which is unlikely. Isla won't be surprised to see the people gunned down in the streets at the earliest opportunity. Almost everyone from the districts holds a special place of hatred for the people who live everyday in luxury, not a care in the world.
She feels angry, and extremely frustrated at the position she's now been put in. At the position the entire country has been put in. There's a weight on her shoulders, too. To try and help the rebel cause from the inside, while being under Snow's direct orders, and living in a building under his surveillance. It won't be easy, and she may just end up dead anyway.
It's overwhelming. So, Isla blocks out the world, wrapping in a blanket and laying on her bed. She's alone, and likely will be until sometime tomorrow when Orion visits. It'll give her time to think, to try and figure out what her next move is. She's usually good at planning, at surviving. But now, she's lost. How can she even help District Thirteen?
Maybe Orion will point her in the right direction. He has to be good for more than just helping her realize that she has a purpose in the Capitol. He has to know what she's supposed to do that apparently he can't. It has to be so specific, her task, that he isn't able to pull it off. Something only she can manage. Something she will have to use her status as a victor to accomplish.
The room grows dark, and Isla doesn't move to turn on lights, or even the projection on the wall. She's avoided putting on the waves, as it reminds her of home. Somewhere she wishes she could be. It might ease her anxiety, lift some of the pressure. But, District Four is crawling with peacekeepers. She thinks she'd probably be under heavier surveillance there than she is here. At least here, she's in the confines of the Capitol, and nothing can get passed them and to her without notice. They don't have to watch her every day routine here. If she went home, there would likely be peacekeepers in her home at all times.
Besides, whatever it is they need Isla for, she has to be physically in the Capitol. She can't just be working for them. There's a reason they wanted her on the hovercraft headed straight for the city. They probably wouldn't let her leave even if she asked, anyway. Not with her doing favours for the President now.
Her dinner breaks the threshold of her stomach, and Isla finally stumbles out of bed. She vomits in her toilet, heaving over the white porcelain. As she breathes heavily, she looks at the shower. Memories of her time with Finnick rush back, and she feels more than just sick. She feels her heart ache. Tears flood her vision, and she curls up into a ball on the cold, white tile.
She falls asleep in a pool of her own tears. Wanting nothing more than to go back in time.