As we ascend to our room in the elevator. I come to the very sudden realization, that this time, there will be no silver lining. No. Instead, it's lined with poison. It won't kill you outright, but it will eat away at you until you wish you were.
I haven't stopped anyone from buying a victor, or put away a future Gamemaker, or owner of a company that exploits the districts. I put someone away that was siphoning money for a rebellion. I'll be responsible for the death of a Capitol citizen—maybe the only one like him who ever existed—who wanted to help kids like me and put an end to the Games.
And now that they have him, and have seized his funds, he'll disappear. The Peacekeepers will make sure of that. They're quite used to that kind of work.
In that moment, my brain feels like it's being snapped by a rubber band as if to remind me that my kill count has just clicked up from eight to ten. I am responsible for the deaths of ten people.
But a question plugs at the back of my mind, how many more people will have to die so I can live? Another voice answers back, as many as it takes.
Both Theseus and I enter the room, but to my surprise, no one else is there with us. I start to panic. Is this it? Is this how it happens? Snow and Plutarch lure you in with false alternatives and trick you?
My entire body tenses up and my head starts to do calculations. I'm closer to the door than he is, and I'm probably much faster too. I know I could make it out into the hallway, but there's no way I'd make it anywhere far without a Peacekeeper cornering me. The other exit option is the window. We're a good number of floors up, so if you jump Octavia, you're going to die, I tell myself. Or maybe I stay here and try to endure it all?
He takes off his shoes and his suit jacket, and I take an instinctive step backward. "Relax," he says as he undoes his tie. "You're not my type. And even if you were, you're way too young for me."
I blink in surprise. "I—what?"
"My type looks a lot more like that Peacekeeper of yours, Ast or whatever his name is?"
My face flushes with relief. "Oh."
"I think it would also be awkward to do it in front of my uncle."
"Wait—wha—"
He opens an adjoining door to reveal Plutarch and the others on the other side, including all the Peacekeepers. We catch the tail end of him saying something to the Peacekeepers in particular.
"....you will be putting in your reports exactly what I tell you too. This is the security level 11 clearance, and no one in the districts has free access clearance to anything remotely near that high, so if people start digging around about this, you bring it directly to me. Understood?"
"Understood, sir," they chorus. I catch a glimpse of Aleksander's eye to find that he's looking me over in concern before he catches me looking at him and averts his eyes.
Plutarch finally turns to acknowledge us entering. "Ah, there they are. The star of the show....and my nephew."
If I was drinking something, I would've had to spit it out. The way Theseus' face deflates at Plutarch's comment makes me want to figure out how to get under his skin like that.
Plutarch walks over to shake my hand and then snubs his nephew, instead walking away to go back to his tablet on the desk. I resist the urge to give Theseus a smug look and rub it in until I hear him let out a short huff, at which point I let it out.
I look around the room to see Crysana and Poppy chatting away in the corner; they both look a little star-struck because every so often one of them will peek over their shoulders to take a quick look at him before turning away. It makes sense; he probably is a sort of celebrity to them as a former Gamemmaker.
"Everyone pay attention because this is the first and probably only time, we will all be gathered in the same room together. Now look around, memorize these faces. They're the only ones you can rely on to get you out of a tricky situation. Every single member of this team has been handpicked and vetted by me for your dedication, unique set of skills, contacts, and discretion. If you're having trouble during an operation, find another one of these faces. To keep this operation intact, you answer to no one but me—there is not an order above my word. Understood?"
We all nod. I don't think anyone in the room is stupid enough to cross Plutarch. Well, maybe me—sometimes I'm really stupid. Like today when I mentioned Forsythe's cards.
"If anyone asks you about this operation you report them directly to me and they will be dealt with accordingly." He pauses before adding, "And similarly, if I find anyone has...informed another party about what we do here, they'll also be dealt with. Dismissed."
Once the group starts to disperse, Plutarch waves me over. "Octavia, I'd like to debrief you first." He continues to click things on his tablet without looking up at me as he says, "You did a fine job—you connected with your targets which made them open up, and you found something to incriminate them both with the money laundering. Next time maybe try not to anger the new head of Capitol TV, but we can work on that next time."
He turns back to his desk, apparently finished with the conversation and my brow furrows in confusion. That can't be it, can it? "Wait, don't you need my statement or something? For actual proof?"
"We have enough proof with your recordings, especially when we synchronize it with the camera footage in the room. Forsythe was smart to talk to you in the greenery room, the cameras are still being installed there from the reno, but the audio was more than enough for me."
"The audio?" I ask, eyes growing widely. "Poppy said," and I realize it then and there where I made my mistake, "that she couldn't source an earring..."
Betrayal. Though can it really be that when you have only known someone for a few hours? No, it was idiocy, naivety on my part. Again Octavia? I scold myself. Stupid, stupid girl.
"That's true," says Plutarch. "However, there was a listening device sewn into the neckline of your dress. The audio is nowhere near as crisp as I'd like it to be, but we made do on such a short timeframe."
I give Poppy a death glare from across the room and she merely steels her face and looks away. I'm mortified that the Peacekeepers heard my conversation with Forsythe, talking about my parents. I don't want them to know how weak and vulnerable I really am. And I hate Poppy for putting me in that position.
Plutarch senses the tension and says, "Now if you don't mind, I'd just like to have a word with Crysana," before leaving to the other side of the suite to go and speak to her. I'm sure he wants her to fill him in on all the gossip she knows.
Immediately I start to strip in the middle of the room, though I'm glad this outfit at least left me with undergarments on, tossing the leathery dress to the side as soon as I'm free of it. Aleksander wordlessly hands me a hotel robe to wrap around myself.
Poppy approaches me much to my dismay, and I can feel Aleksander tense as well. "I was concerned if you knew the mics were on you wouldn't act yourself."
I scoff. "Like that would've made a difference. Some people out here Poppy, some of us don't have the luxury of being protected when we speak our minds."
"And you think I do?"
All my frustrations with the Capitolians, all the holding back, comes out at once, all directed at Poppy. "This thing goes south, you're the first one I throw under the bus, mark my words."
I can tell in her eyes that I've struck a chord, "Well spoken for the barbarian you are."
That's it. "You want to see barbarian you hag, hm? I'll go Hunger Games on your ass. No amount of plastic surgery will be able to hide that when I'm done with you."
I feel arms wrap around me, both Aleksander and Pius drag me away from her and I hear Pius in my ear, "Dude, calm down, attacking a Capitol stylist is not what you want to go down for."
Plutarch unamusedly turns around to look at the commotion and yells for everyone to leave the room. Everyone begins to file into the adjoined room and Pius and Aleksander let Poppy go first. "Not you Octavia."
Well, shit.
Though I sense hesitation from the others from 2 the rest of the room files out into the one that Theseus and I entered from. Crysana is the last one out and Plutarch nods towards her as she closes the secret door behind her, "Crysana's family owes a debt to the Capitol, usually that means during that it to the service of the Peacekeepers for an amount of time determined by the gravity of the debt. However, I came to an arrangement with Crysana. I get an undercover agent, and her family gets to keep their reputation."
"And what do I get? Hm? A dead grandma and...?"
"We made a deal, Octavia."
"I'm done with this. I got to go home, I did your little spy mission, tit-for-tat. It's over."
He sighs. "The other option President Snow had for you is Finnick's line of work, is that what you want for yourself?"
"Fuck you. You don't have anyone you can hold over me anymore, and you can't kill me, so just leave me the fuck alone. Let me rot away in 2 for the rest of my life."
"You know they'll never allow that—"
My anger starts to bubble over, raging like a violent storm. My mind flit's back to the guilt that is eating away at me, eating me alive and I burst out with, "Why Forsythe too? Why not just pin it all on Tobias? He's a good man."
"A good man, yes. A kettle about to screech, also yes."
"You're killing someone for wanting to make a movie. A movie for goodness sake. Why can't you just let him go?"
He ignores my sentiments about Forsythe. "Tobias wasn't any sort of hero or rebel, Octavia. He was simply a stupid man," chuckles Plutarch. "He didn't want to make that documentary to help anyone but himself. He doesn't care about the tributes, or victors, or the families. He only cared about what the infamy he stood to gain by touching on such an inciting topic would make."
I shake my head and cross my arms as I start to pace around the room. "As long as they're doing something good, isn't that all that matters? I can't really be picky about why people choose to do the right thing."
"I can. And we have to be. We only get one shot at this."
I stop pacing. "Shot? Shot at what?"
"There are people like me out there in the Capitol, Octavia. People who want to make things better."
I roll my eyes. Better for who exactly? Me? Because it certainly doesn't feel like it. "And why should I ever believe a Gamemmaker about wanting to make things better?"
"Because I'm the best chance you've got."
His words sing because they're right. He's the best chance I've got. Of what exactly? That I'm not entirely sure of. A chance of not being subject to what Finnick is. A chance of getting away from the Academy life. A chance of making things better for the districts. "Why shouldn't I just go to Snow about you? Hm? What's to stop me?"
He adjusts his shirt cuffs. "We both know that I would bury you long before you got the chance. I may calculate my risks, Octavia, but I also know how to manage them."
I roll my eyes. There it is again. The Capitol arrogance that seems to be inescapable from even the best of the Capitolians. "Fuck you. You have done nothing to show me that I can trust you. I wouldn't trust you to make me a cup of tea. If you want to work with me, prove it. Hmm, how's that sound? Prove it to me that you want to help."
He pauses for a moment, considering my words. "Johanna Mason."
He's officially piqued my interest. "I know her, what about her?"
"Johanna has been rather defiant about joining the victor business. A covert squad was sent out to District 7 where Mr. Mason is meant to meet with his demise."
I think Plutarch knows I'm about to start swearing and yelling at him again because he quickly adds, "And he won't because of me. The attempt will fail. He'll probably lose a hand, sure, but he'll live. One of the Peacekeepers loyal to Snow is being set up and will take the fall for this. Likely an execution or being made an Avox because of the failure. And Johanna will get a second chance at saving her father's life, that's more than most can say."
"I save when and where I can Octavia. I know what it is I do. But no one else can take over the position I'm in. I would be lying if I said didn't get a thrill from my work, if I didn't like it, but at the end of the day, the ultimate burden falls to me. Because every person I lose? That's on me. It's my responsibility."
He's lost me on the last part. I understand trying to save Johanna's dad. Hearing that he's done that makes me hate him just a little bit less than I did before. And it gives me hope that maybe once or twice Plutarch would be able to bail me out of whatever hole I'm sure I'll dig myself into in the future. "Responsibility?" is all I manage to let out.
We sit in silence for a moment and he shrinks down into a chair, putting his head in his hands. He's never looked so...unintimidating. For a second, he looks like any other man in his 40s with lots of fine lines from worrying.
He breaks the silence and looks up to me. "230. Or, I like to call it 231 after that girl from 9 the one who won back in 55 jumped off the roof of the Tribute Tower. She couldn't take it anymore. What they—what I'd done to her. We had to install force fields that would throw you back onto the roof so you can't...you know. A couple people had to learn that one the hard way. But what keeps me going is that one day, I'm going to save people. Enough people to outweigh the lives I've taken."
I pause. It would be good if life worked like that. To only have 10 lives to save to make up for things seems like a breeze compared to 230. "Do you really believe it works like that?" I don't think it does. I don't think it would stop me from seeing their faces.
"It has to," he says. "And if not, it's a good place to start."
The train ride back to District 2 is a long one. I stare out the window thinking of Forsythe. I want to run all the way back to the Capitol. I feel my legs gearing up, twitching with anticipation for me to run and go tell Forsythe. What exactly? I'm not sure. Probably something along the lines of 'run'. Run as fast as you can and get out of here because they know what you did. And it's my fault they know. You thought you could trust me and now you're going to die for it. Followed by a good, I'm sorry for good measure.
Even Pius can sense the atmosphere because he only cracks a few jokes every now and then to break the silence including a rather vulgar one about a rock that I certainly would've laughed at had I been in the mood.
I used to think that the deal was, once I won the Hunger Games I got to live my life in peace. That I would finally start to get living my own life; not my mother's life, not the Academy's life, but mine. But just like this train, I'm finding that the Hunger Games has no way off either. I don't belong to me. I belong to them.
+++
Phew! And that's officially a wrap on this arc! Next, we get back to more regularly scheduled programming.
They're always finding new ways to sensationalize the Games in the Capitol, and this year is no exception. A victory tour brings celebration for the "Best Decade in the Games' History" as they officially close the book on the 60s. And the special guests for this event? Well it would have to be every victor from 60-69, wouldn't it? Cecelia, Otto, Enobaria, Gloss, Cashmere, Finnick, Emmer, Augustus, Octavia, and recent winner Johanna all gather in the Capitol to ring out the last decade with a bang! At least that's what the Capitol wants. And who would Octavia be to deny them that? She'll make sure she goes out with a bang.