CHAPTER 5 – CAPITOL TV
A/N: This would be the chapter with the most spoilers. Caesar is going to interview each character and we're going to reveal some things about Sherlock (BBC Sherlock, season 3), Tobias (Divergent, book 1), Isaac (The Fault in Our Stars), Kirke (The Magician's Nephew), Tate (American Horror Story, season 1), Louisa (The Sound of Music), and Sweeney (Sweeney Todd) which are pretty spoilery. I think I organized the chapter well enough for you to be able to see it coming – only when that character is being interviewed is anything spoiled, so you can easily scroll past their paragraphs if you need to. I don't suggest you skip the entire chapter, though, because there is a lot of vital information about these characters you might miss! Without further ado, enjoy the chapter.
Sitting in the room with all of these people was relatively exciting, I'd give them credit for that. The dressing up was much too overdone and the colours far too bright, smiles all painfully fake, but I'd never seen such an intriguing group. Twenty-three deductions waiting to be made.
Caesar Flickerman warmed himself up with some petty breathing exercises which really did nothing for the nerves – unless, of course, the mind-over-matter method worked for him. He sat in one of the chairs and waited for the countdown from the cameraman. The rest of us were shoved backstage, except for the District One tributes, who he would interview first. We all watched on a screen what was happening right behind us, which I found to be extremely inefficient.
"Live in five, four, three, two-"
A voiceover came through the speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, your master of ceremonies: Caesaaaar Flickermaaaaaaaan!!"
The stage filled with light as horrible pre-recorded trumpet music blasted out to the audience. Rich as the Capitol was, they hadn't bothered to get a real trumpet player but instead spent at least twice as much money getting a computer technician to compose a measly theme song. Caesar flashed a wide grin at the cheering audience, then eagerly leapt out of his seat and waved at the audience. They went crazy.
"Welcome to the seventy-third annual Hunger Games!" Caesar announced, earning him another round of applause. "Are you excited to meet the tributes?? Let me hear you!"
I rolled my eyes. "His enthusiasm is a bit forced, don't you think, Molly?"
"Wha- oh, um, yes, it's not natural at all, is it?"
She didn't see what I was seeing. I sighed and resigned myself to quietly watching. I entertained myself by using the three minutes each tribute had to deduce something about them. I may as well try to learn something I didn't already know. I had spent the week previous clearing space for such details on my opponents so I could store them efficiently in my mind palace.
Hermione Granger was the first to sit in the chair opposite Caesar. District One. That meant she was a witch. Went to a private school for it. Ordinary parents, extraordinary child.
She wore a red, long-sleeved gown with glittering gold lining. Clearly a brave young girl. Her hair had been notably tamed for the interview, and though it may have looked nice now, she was self-conscious about it. That and her teeth, though with dentists as parents she hardly had a thing to worry about.
She spoke cheerily of her friends at home and how much she'll miss them, then cheerily let on that she thought she would win. Playing up the audience's sympathy for the child. Still, she was older than she looked.
"Hermione, everybody!" Caesar lead the applause that got her off of the stage while Oliver Wood stepped on, wearing a tuxedo a shade of red so similar to Hermione's dress one could almost mistake it for the same. His necktie glittered gold. I could tell he went to the same school as Hermione. Significantly older. Sporty kid, though not muscular; rather scrawny. Whatever kind of sport he played, he was a type of goalkeeper.
"Oliver, everybody!" Cue applause.
The Doctor strutted onto the stage wearing a simple blue silk gown and a black bow tie. Travels a lot, to many different places... and many different times. Time Lord – or rather, Time Lady. Few regenerations left. Lonely, lonelier than she'd ever admit.
She sat in the chair and they began their interview. "The Doctor, is it?" Caesar asked cryptically. "Doctor who?"
"Dangerous question. It's just the Doctor."
"No name you can reveal to us?"
"Nope."
Whatever name the Doctor had wasn't something I was able to tell for certain. I had an idea forming, but I'd have to put that into a file for later. I was getting the feeling that knowing her true Gallifreyan name would be dangerous and she was right not to broadcast it to the entire world. Whatever wanted to know her name probably had harmful intentions.
"I see. Leaving us hanging." Caesar leaned toward her, almost like he was hoping she'd whisper it to him. But how would she know if he could be trusted? Soon Caesar shrugged and faced the camera. "Better put your guesses out there! In the mean time, Doctor, let's talk about the Reaping."
"Definitely. I was a bit dramatic, wasn't I?"
"A bit, yes." They laughed. "Rose was the name of the girl you volunteered for. Tell me: what relationship did you two have? Lovers, perhaps?"
Was he joking? Anyone could tell that woman was not her girlfriend. Granted, it wasn't that Rose didn't want to date the Doctor. The Doctor just wasn't the dating type. Still, I sensed that she did have a wife, one that she was forced to spontaneously marry at some point. Again, something to put in a file for later.
"No, nothing like that. She's my best friend in the world."
"To the point where you'd die for her."
"To the point where I'd die for her twice," she joked. Caesar and the rest of the audience roared with laughter.
"So how did you know that doing what you did at the Reaping would make you capable of taking her place? Have you done something like that before?"
"Well, to be completely honest with you, I didn't know for sure it would work. I'm a Time Lord – Time Lady. That means if my body is fatally injured, I can regenerate into a new one."
I loved being right.
"Does this mean you're invincible? Immortal, even?"
"Naaah. For some Time Lords and Ladies it used to be that way, but times have changed."
"I see. You've clearly seen how much attention the media is giving you for that act. Your ratings have gone up very high. Do you think you'll be a bigger target in the Games because you're already a fan favourite?"
"Potentially, yes," she laughed.
"So you didn't know it would work... were you afraid – during the Reaping, that is – that it might not?"
"I didn't have a lot of time to think, you have to understand. Call it an impulse. If it hadn't worked, I'd just be another man. I... I don't know what I would have done if this hadn't worked."
"Wow," Caesar nodded.
"Yeah."
"May I address the elephant in the room?"
"Oh, by all means."
Caesar cleared his throat, then leaned forward like he was asking a very important question. "You were a man going into the Reaping to watch. Is it strange for you to be wearing a dress?"
"Are you kidding? It's fun! I'm disappointed I never got the opportunity earlier." She shook her head, tossing her hair all around. The audience laughed.
"I do love the addition of the bow tie," Caesar commented.
The Doctor grinned. "What can I say? Bow ties are cool."
"The Doctor, everybody!" A loud cheer rose from the crowd as the Doctor left the stage. Rory Williams slowly walked on, almost like he was unsure if he was in the right place. Quickly I made a few deductions: Older, much older, than he looked. A wife, no kids, but wants them. Good friends with the Doctor. Wife also friends with the Doctor, possibly even better so. Or maybe not. It was hard to tell just by glancing at his posture and noting where he looked. I'd have to listen to what he said more closely.
"Rory Williams! How are you?" Caesar smiled as he sat in the chair.
"Doing well, Caesar, doing well."
"You're a good friend of the Doctor's, aren't you?"
"Ah, yes, we've known each other for quite a while. We met through my wife, Amy." That would explain it.
"Your wife... I suppose she'll be your incentive to fight hard?"
"Of course. I'd... I'd do anything for her, you know?"
"Aw. She's certainly a lucky woman. Tell me, with your level of determination: do you think your chances are high?"
Caesar asked more questions only to get more generic answers. I gave him some credit for trying so hard to keep the conversation interesting for all three minutes, but he did cut the interview eleven seconds short.
"Rory, everybody!"
Next it was Molly's turn. The two of us were ushered to the wings of the stage. One worker pushed Molly forward and she stumbled a bit in her pencil-skirted dress. No doubt that was a challenge to walk in. Her ivory taffeta dress matched my ivory necktie, as it was supposed to. Traditionally the man matched the woman, but I'd insisted I wear what I had worn to John's wedding, and therefore she was the one matching me.
As Molly went through her interview, and as much as Caesar tried to help her through it, her overall nervousness outshone anything she said. She may have been literally counting the seconds until it was finally over.
After three painful minutes, she walked off the stage the opposite way I walked on.
"And the famous Sherlock joins us now! How are you doing?"
"All right," I mumbled, already a bit bored. I rested my elbows on the armrests and placed my fingertips together, sitting very still to help me focus.
"So, Sherlock, tell me: you're known for being able to solve cases, even as important as murder cases, in a matter of minutes. How do you think this will help you in the Games?"
"To be honest with you I'm not sure that it will; being able to solve a murder isn't quite the same as already knowing exactly who did it."
Caesar laughed, but I didn't get the joke. I kept talking.
"In any case the murderer would not be punished by the law, as usually happens at the ends of my cases but instead the chances are approximately three to one that the individual with the most kills will be rewarded for their actions with fame and money."
"You've thought about this before?"
"No, it's just a simple calculation."
He continued to ask trivial questions; I continued to answer them. On the television I had been unable to fully appreciate the way Caesar was dressed – his suit, hair, eyelashes, eyebrows, and lips were all a similar shade of crimson. The Capitol's sense of fashion was out there, and surely that was no secret, but still something to take note of. He spoke eloquently, and though his enthusiasm had struck me as forced before, it was obvious that public speaking was a natural gift of his. He seemed to know what he was doing –he'd been interviewing tributes for years, so it was only natural he'd acquired a sort of skill in the process.
"As this seems to be a common theme today, I do feel compelled to ask – Sherlock, is there anyone you're leaving behind while you go off to the Games?"
For a moment I considered saying John's name. Certainly I would miss my flatmate while I was gone. Something stopped me, though. "No one."
"No one at all?"
"A few friends," I lied. I didn't have friends, I knew that. No one would miss me, and I hoped to God no one would waste their time worrying about my state of being. Their emotion would only get in the way of their functioning. Incredibly stupid.
"I'm sure they'll miss you quite a lot. Sherlock, everybody!" I supposed that was my cue to leave. I left the audience with a forced smile and a wave of acknowledgement.
The workers backstage pointed me to a separate room where those who had already been interviewed were congregated around another screen, either watching intensely or crying to their mentors that they hadn't done it right.
I sat on the couch in front of the screen, ready to see how quickly I could deduce something about Maleficent's past. I only had about a minute now.
Unmarried, but had a child. Child didn't know her – or if she did, they were only very recently reconnected. A bit of a sadist. Honestly entertained by the Games. The type to laugh at horror films.
I was interrupted by Mark – who looked so much like my brother it was uncanny – when he asked me to explain myself. We hadn't rehearsed that answer about murder, I could start revolts by talking like that about the victors, and so on and so on. I waved him off. What was said was said and it didn't matter how anyone else felt about it or if I regretted it or not. I'd still said it. I watched Maleficent deny the myth that she could turn into a dragon and strut off the stage while Prince Charming walked on. Prince, obviously. Didn't want to rule any kingdom but didn't know that. No other career options interested him. Married to a woman. Gay.
"Sherlock, listen to me."
"What is it, Mark? I've done what I've done. You don't expect me to try to do anything about it, do you?"
He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He didn't have an answer.
"What I expect you to do is-"
"No you don't."
"Excuse me?"
"No you don't. You don't have any idea what I can do to change whatever I said. It was a comment in passing and we talked about other things. Really, Mark, don't pretend you know what you're talking about when you don't."
He gave me a long look. "Right."
He approached Molly and patted her shoulder. "Good work today."
"Good work. You're lying through your teeth, Mark!"
He waved without turning around as he left the room.
Back on the screen, Glinda was giggling and twirling her way offstage in a glittery pink ballgown. It wouldn't have surprised me if that was what she wore every day.
The scarecrow walked onstage almost comically, wearing a spiffy tuxedo and white necktie studded with pink jewels, a cheap way to attempt to match what Glinda had arrived wearing. He'd lost all of his self-esteem when he became a scarecrow. A friend did it to him. Used to date Glinda, but dumped her for... the same friend who turned him into a scarecrow. It didn't make a lot of sense, but the facts didn't lie.
Christina was next, entering with a black-and-white vertically striped dress with short black sleeves. She was the only girl so far who wasn't wearing heels. From what I could tell she wanted to impress someone, to prove herself. To her family, perhaps? She was honest, remarkably so. Raised that way. Thought she was braver than she was. Had been told in the past she wasn't sensitive enough. It reminded me of something John would say, a bit.
Tobias was next. Raised to be tough and fearless, but in the wrong ways. Afraid of very few things. Heights. Tight spaces. His capacity to kill an innocent... wouldn't that be exciting for the Games? He'd be too squeamish to make a single kill. There was something else he was afraid of. A family member. A parent. Someone who had beaten him when he was young and that he was still afraid of. He acted like he was over it as he spoke about the subject, but he very clearly was not.
Alaska wore a dress that scarcely covered her. I couldn't help but notice that it had been hemmed strangely in the back, as if someone had wanted the material and tried to make it look like none had been removed. Alaska thought she was very cool. The epitome of an angsty teenager – smoking, drinking, sex, et cetera. Didn't usually get attached to people. Still, had an abundance of friends.
Isaac was wearing a tie that was the answer to the missing material on Alaska's dress. Someone on a tight budget was the genius who couldn't find a better way of matching them without taking from the skirt. Caesar asked him the easiest question he could have.
"What do you think your odds are? Considering your handicap, I mean."
Before he could answer I made my predictions. He was not born blind. Eyes were removed. Cancer. The surgeries put barriers in relationships. Girlfriend broke up with him because of it.
"Low. Very low. If there's a bright side, it's that no one will bother to target me; I'll die of my own accord by falling into a pit or something."
Caesar led the audience in a round of laughter. Again, I didn't get the joke. The man was right – who would waste their time and risk their morality by killing someone who would be physically unable to perform basic survival skills?
After a few more minutes of eye jokes and futile questions, Caesar ended the interview. "Isaac, everybody!"
Susan was on next. I examined her. Oldest – no, second oldest of four children. Parents either dead or never around, leaving her to be the mother figure of the family. I sensed something regal about her, like she had spent some time as a queen in another realm. It was certainly possible. She was familiar with a bow and arrow, but would only fire such a thing in self-defence.
Digory Kirke insisted that he simply be called Professor Kirke. More interestingly, I could see that he had a significant role in the society of another realm. An old friend of Susan's, and their family.
Moira was quite a character. She was wearing even less than Alaska had been.
"Moira! What a dress you have on. Don't you think you're a little old for it?"
"That's a matter of opinion, Caesar," she said simply.
I squinted at the girl on the screen. That was strange, that was very strange. A strange question, yes, but something else... I couldn't understand why I couldn't identify her age. It was like she was both in her late twenties and early seventies at once. She was blind in one eye, though didn't look it from certain angles. I'd never met a person before that baffled me so much.
"Molly..."
"Hm?"
"How old would you guess she is?"
"Oh, I don't know, sixty-five? Is that right?"
"Yes, Molly, very good." She smiled at the small victory, though she really could have said any number and I would have told her the same. Whatever kind of nonsense this was that made her appear a different age to different people would be fascinating to ask her about if I ever got the chance. Caesar didn't make any other comments about it. Maybe he only saw her as old.
"Moira, everybody!"
Tate had plenty of depth for me to uncover, though Caesar was only interested in his love life and how impressed everyone had been by his training.
He had committed unspeakable crimes in the past. Killed before. Tried to kill himself, even. Attracted to darkness. Saw a therapist. Had a girlfriend... Girlfriend was related to his therapist. Daughter, perhaps? He loved her. He would kill for her... and had tried to kill for her, until she stopped him. He had siblings. Two of them. Both with disabilities. Both dead.
Christine was nothing but a ball of energy. Caesar spoke with her about her love of books, which she was known for. Indeed, she loved books. She was competitive, extremely so. Oldest of three. Closer to her youngest sibling. A brother.
Phil was a closeted bisexual man with an unofficial boyfriend. Used to cameras. So many pointed at him at once now and it was intimidating to him, however. Everything he said to Caesar felt rehearsed, even the laughter he forced in after a joke. They talked only of his career making short films of some kind for his three minutes.
Avril was another who puzzled me. She was acting like she was a teenager stuck in her rebellious phase, telling Caesar that she was there to have fun, but she was, in fact, acting. She was certainly not who she said she was. Who she really was, though, I couldn't quite identify in those three minutes.
Brendon walked onto the stage wearing a shiny, purple tuxedo with a black necktie. Caesar asked him about the career he was leaving behind – and what a career I knew it was. He was an extremely talented musician. Had a band, but everyone left him, leaving him to do it all himself. He blew it off and made it sound like he was happy without them, but what he should have done is won over the sympathy of the viewers by making his life into some kind of tragedy. A wasted chance, but I would have hated to hear a sob story about not having friends anyhow.
Louisa arrived on the stage next in a homemade sundress. Made by her mother – no, her stepmother. A stepmother who brought her music and brought their family back together.
Caesar asked about her family. "Louisa. You come from a rather large family, don't you?"
"Yes, sir. Seven of us. I'm the third-oldest."
"I see. And your parents, how did they meet?"
"My mother was our governess."
The crowd laughed, but I didn't see what was so funny about a fact. It was true; their stepmother had been the children's governess. One of many they'd gone through, I was certain.
"I see. And your father, what did he do that he couldn't take care of you all alone?"
"My father was in the military. He trained all of us like his soldiers once our mother died. Everything was orderly until our new mother came and reminded him how much he used to love music and dancing."
"Wow... wow, what a story." He stared at her for a moment. "You say your father trained you like his soldiers. Lots of discipline involved, I'm sure. Do you think that will help you outlive the other tributes?"
"I don't know, sir. It's possible."
"Louisa, everybody!" More applause.
Lastly, Sweeney trudged into the seat opposite Caesar wearing a tattered tuxedo, and they discussed his reputation. He, too, had killed before. Used the disguise of a barber to do so. Killed his wife. Accidently, though; he hadn't known it was her. He still didn't know, but I did. Had a daughter. Wanted revenge on the man who took his wife and custody of his daughter in the process. Again, what a story. It may have seemed to people that he was trying to play the sympathy card by acting sad, but I was convinced that he actually wanted to change his ways and was genuinely depressed.
"Sweeney, everybody!" He didn't even smile.
And that was it. Caesar closed out the programme with an advertisement for the Games. The same computer-generated music played as he waved to the audience, and soon we were off the air again.
Mildly entertained by everything I'd gotten achance to figure out about my opponents, I followed them all out of the crampedroom. We loaded the train, Mark still trying to convince himself we were evenslightly capable of winning. The competition everyone was so excited aboutwould begin in the morning.