DISTRICT TWO - Peter Steele
I couldn't help but be struck with the irony of the situation as Briar's body disappeared in flames. Her bravery, surely the thing that earned her spot in the Squad, was the reason she died. Bravery turned into recklessness, and now she was dead, in whatever afterlife existed for us denizens of Hell. At least I hadn't killed my District Partner this time.
"Help!" A strangled voice called from the distance, just outside the Square we had fought to keep. My head immediately turned to the street the voice was coming from, a street that led straight to Capitol territory. Almost as quickly, my finger wrapped around the trigger of my gun. One loud, injured citizen could mean hundreds of Peacekeepers finding where we were camping.
The twenty of us who remained glanced at each other silently. The threat posed by the one, seemingly harmless, citizen was obvious to us all. "We need to take care of this." Vibbius said, only vocalizing what the majority of us were already thinking.
“There are a ton of options.” Enoch started, evident he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to see, but still wanted to talk. “We could rescue him, pretend to rescue him...”
“How exactly would you pretend to rescue someone?” Iliana asked, remaining professional despite her arm, still in a sling from yesterday's battle.
“First you'd rescue them.” Enoch said, seemingly having put more thought into how to pretend to rescue someone than what we should do with the mysterious citizen. “Then, once we get back to the camp, we would kill them. Cannibalism is always an option.”
“You know,” Canary said, finally turning her attention away from braiding her hair. “As stupid as that idea sounds, it might be the best option for us.”
“I was joking about the cannibalism.” Enoch interrupted.
Canary rolled her eyes in response. “But seriously, we can go out and rescue him to quiet him down, and then figure out the best case scenario from there: killing him, having him join the squad, not eating his flesh.”
"Or we could just kill him outright." I suggested.
"Of course that's what you'd say." Canary replied, rolling her eyes once again. "You're a Career. Just kill everything that moves and you'll be fine."
"At least I can kill someone." I snapped in response. "And besides, I'm only saying we should kill him because we have to. All the citizens should be in their bunkers, so anyone left out isn't a civilian. He's of no use to us, and he'll only get us killed if we wait around any longer."
In the distance, the man's cries were growing ever louder. His once-clear calls for help had turned to desperate screams and sobs. It was only a matter of time before he drew unwanted attention to the Square, or died. Although I was perfectly fine with the latter, plenty of bystanders had to die in a war, Canary would never let me live it down if he died because we couldn't make up our minds.
"Alright," Vibbius declared, his voice cutting through the man's cries and our bickering. "Let's take it to a vote. Anyone who thinks we should kill the man, raise your hand."
I raised my hand, as did several other members of the Squad: Auriel, Iliana, Thorn, Amelia, Alana. Still, it was obvious that the grand majority had sided with Canary.
"Let's get together a rescue group then." Enoch said, clasping his hands together. "We'll need a scout, several fighters, someone who has experience with cooking human flesh..."
Enoch quickly got a group together, and set out to find the Capitol citizen. Iliana had to join the group since she was the only one intimately familiar with all the backstreets in the Capitol, and Enoch led the scouting group as efficiently as Vibbius led the Squad as a whole. The rest of us sat in a circle, huddled around the still-burning bodies of our comrades to keep warm.
The group was back within minutes, obviously not having much trouble getting the man back to camp. He still whimpered, walking with an obvious limp. Still, his only apparent injury was the large gash in his arm, one that could easily be fixed with a bit of alcohol and some stitches. He wasn't hurt very badly at all, not in comparison to Iliana and several other members of the Squad.
"Wait." Vibbius shouted, and immediately everyone followed suit. The man winced slightly. "What is your name, sir, what were you doing out in the streets, and how did you get injured?"
"Julius Justinius, sir." He sniffled, pausing for a moment before he continued on. "I was on my way to my bunker when I was injured. I was stopping by my parents' house, you see, to make sure they had received the message to go to their bunkers. They had, of course, and I was just heading towards mine when I heard a commotion coming from Glory Square. I tried running to cover, but I twisted my ankle and fell. I cut my arm against some rubble, and I laid there until the battle seemed to be over."
"The battle's been over for quite a while." Amelia noted. "Almost a full day now. Why did you wait to start yelling for help until just now?"
"Because he's not Julius Justinius at all." Iliana answered, stepping out from the background, the newest version of the Holo in her hands. "Corius Gracillius is his real name. He used to do sideshows here in the Capitol, where he demonstrated his uncanny ability to imitate anyone. He suddenly retired about fifteen years ago, right after I saw one of his shows here in the Capitol. He went entirely off the map, and many believe he either fled to Thirteen under an alias, or is working for the Capitol as a spy."
Julius', or Corius', eyed widened with fear for a moment, almost immediately returning back to normal. "I am truly a fan of Corius," he said. "But..."
"Julius Justinius was the name you used for your stereotypical Capitol citizen." Iliana interrupted. "It was my favorite part of the act. I suggest we kill him."
Corius broke into a run, only held back by two of the men who went to rescue him. Canary stood behind him, twirling her axe as though it was a toy and not a weapon. "Since Peter was so eager to kill him in the first place, how about he does the honors?" She suggested, a grin plastered to her face.
I nodded sternly and walked towards Corius, his shoulder slumped in defeat. He must have never been caught like this before, probably because he had only ever done this to citizens of the Districts, those who had never seen his silly little performance and remembered a detail as tiny as the name he used for one of his characters.
Unceremoniously, I raised my gun to his temple. If this had been an execution in the Districts, it would have been a pistol, a much lighter weapon, one that would still leave a semblance of the man behind once the bullet tore through his head.
“Please.” He muttered, his eyes open wide.
The girl couldn't have been more than fourteen years old, incredibly young for the Games. Only armed with a backpack, I realized she couldn't have killed anyone in the Games. She must have been hoping she could hide for the entire Games, and then kill the last person standing. She had done remarkably well. It was the top four after all.
“You're going to kill me, aren't you?” She asked sadly. Her eyes flitted from my face, to my sword, to the branch that had fallen on top of her legs, immobilizing her. “Please.” She begged, her eyes filled with tears. I couldn't tell whether they were from pain or fear, but, at the time, it didn't matter to me. She was just an obstacle in my path to becoming Victor.
Ignoring her pleas, I ran my sword across her neck. The cannon was almost instant. Almost.
“I can't.” I said softly, pulling away from him. Corius' eyes filled with relief in the same way the girl's eyes filled with relief. Her name was Megan, it turned out. At the time I only knew she was the girl from District Three, and she took fourth place in the Games.
Blood splattered onto my face, and I turned to see only an empty space where Corius' head used to be. His eyes were open in a permanent state of shock, the entirety of his head lying at my feet. “Who is it that can't kill someone?” Canary asked, tilting her head to one side. Her ax was dripping with Corius' blood, the blood I was too afraid to spill.
DISTRICT THREE - Thorn Deen
The rebels celebrated in the centre. Although the battle was won, the war was not. Around them the groans of the injured cut through the silence with ease, as the footsteps of an injured man reached them.
The peacemakers around him gurgled blood as he hobbled from behind the outer building, using a twisted piece of wreckage as a crutch. The rough skin of his face was marred with the scars of the past, and the sharply cut stubble on his chin was bleeding profusely.
A few of the group stumbled over the rocks and helped to drag the poor man into the centre. A slick streak of blood stretched out behind him, covered by the scuff marks of his thick shoes. As the solid metal hat crowing his head fell to the floor, the colossus clanging of the metal broke silence's victory.
A strangled gasp hissed through Thorn's throat as he took another bucketful of air. "We've lost a lot of fighters. A third are dead."
The crowd murmured in agreement as the few conscious rebels nodded their heads. The remaining were either dead or injured as medics that rushed to carry them to the makeshift hospital in the centre.
"Eko, Mercury, Fidget, Briar, Rimsy, Rage, Aysha and Alexander. These people have not died in vain," he spoke, shifting on his feet "There is only one task we have left to complete. We must survive."
The crowd nodded and scattered, bringing the injured into the small buildings at the edges of the capitol's skyline. Thorn helped the injured man himself, slinging him effortlessly over his shoulder. He bobbed up and down as he walked through the doorway, accidentally scuffing the back of the man on the stone archway.
The man didn't even react. He just groaned as more blood soaked his jacket.
The inside of the hospital was tiled and clean. Echoes roamed the corridors freely, as nurses and medics alike cared for the injured. The man's eye were practically, white, so Thorn hurried into a canvas tent set up to the right of the smooth tiled floor.
As his shaking tongue forced out a few strangled, jumbled syllables, it became apparent the man was trying to speak his peace. Thorn walked into a tent and placed the man down onto a stretcher gently and listened as he rasped words.
"It's not over." He rasped.
"It's never over, Solider."
Thorn was so close he could smell the iron wetting his t-shirt. The hospital smelt of death, and the cold sweat of those in a fever. But this man looked straight into Thorn's eyes, shivering as he recited his precious words.
"You don't understand. The capitol will never give up. You are their loose end, the one they will stop at nothing to tie - even if it makes their hands red raw."
The man smiles and sits bolt upright, the canvas of the stretcher creaking in protest. His wounds are oozing blood, but his demeanour did not falter. It took a fleeting moment of doubt, but it was then that Thorn began to notice the subtle signs. For instance, his hands. They were soft. His cuticles were perfectly clean - not a hint of mud underneath them. They were unlike the rough hands of a worker, Thorn's hands himself being similar to sandpaper. Not only that, but his accent. Every word was well enunciated and pronounced. The man had no accent either, only his softly spoken words led him to the final conclusion.
"You're not a rebel, are you?" He spoke gruffly now, watching as other stride past him busy. It was so frenzied, that no-one had even noticed the man Thorn had brought in.
"That's quite correct. The name is Jul-" he stops mid word and grins at Thorn before scratching his chin "Actually, I think I'll tell you my real name. Not that it will make any difference, anyway. The name's Corius Gracilias. Nice to meet you."
Thorn lights up his tobacco pipe, and takes a great puff before spluttering out a few syllables. "I presume you're sent by our opponents."
Corius smiles, and stands up, sending flourishing his right hand in a great circle. He clicks his heels together, before spinning around to face Thorn. The great bustle of the makeshift hospital disguised the real intentions of Corius Gracilias.
"That would be somewhat correct. However, I like to think I am on neither side."
Thorn chuckles at Corius before taking puff of his pipe "Just like a piece of string, no matter how far you stretch it, it will always return to it's original form."
Thorn slips the spool of string from his pocket and smiles, as the man's face turns sour.
"I have the upper hand here, Mr Deen. I would not suggest that you irritated me." Corius speaks sharply and curtly, his lips pursed. Twitching an eyebrow, Thorn watched as Corius brushes dried blood from his outfit, clearly annoyed.
"The same could be said for me, Corius Gracilias."
The man only turns a paler shade of white and spits on to the ground. He looks to the bulky man before him and snatches the pipe from his hands.
"Do not test me, Thorn Deen." Holding the cigarette a fingerwidth out of Thorn's reach, he laughs before backing into the crowd "You should know these are bad for you."
As he backed into the crowd, he disappeared. His footsteps were muted by the incredible bustle, and his grin was soon covered by the head of those in the hospital. He spun, trying as best he could to block out the sound but only the flashes of his likeness in other people surrounded him.
DISTRICT FOUR - Enoch Torrence
The night was lukewarm, but the humidity low. Winds whipped around the square, chilling the hair of my bare back. Glass tinkled along the asphalt as the breeze picked them up and dropped them in quick succession.
"Is this what winter is like?"
Daniel coughs with humor, i'm surprised smoke didn't portray the flight pattern of his breath.
“Nah,” he chuckles, “you Fours are just wimps."
I smile and lean back in the chair I stole from the patio. Quickly I regret my decision, half—healed scars snapped open and damp pools of blood started forming on my back. I grab the already rosy towel from the ground and wipe the wounds. The pressure ignited the thousands of small pains, but once I finished the stinging quickly dissipated.
I sit straight up, my thump pressing into my forehead to keep it from falling limp with exhaustion. The night is dead, nothing moves to stimulate my mind and distract it from tiredness. Daniel is silent unless talked to directly. He sits on the ground across from the book store door. His golden eyes stare at his lap, fingers running across some neckless.
He was one of the injured ones, granted most everyone got scratched up, but he was one of the worst; barely lived according to the nurse staff. Seems like it hit him.
"I'm gunna go get somethin' to drink. I'll bring you one if you don't start chewing off."
Daniel looks up and blinks for what seems like the first time since he came out here. "I think you should stay here like we're s'posed to."
"I couldn't care less what you think, but to be fair, it's not just you. I mean; I love talking, and have nothing against people who talk, but they choose to say the stupidest of things, which isn't a crime. Actually 'specting me to listen to the rules your mouth decides to babble off is the illegal part."
He waves a hand at me as a dismissal, his finger then transcends to his lips to silence me.
"If you think i'm mean now, just wait until you see me angry."
I spit at the ground in front of his feet and pull out my harmonica. I start off down the street, blowing into the instrument as hard as I can. The convenience store is just around a corner stemming from the square.
The front window is already busted, although I remember it intact after the battle. Someone might have already snuck out for grub. A kindred spirit that was fine with bending rules, or flat out disregarding them.
I hop into the shop, the window is completely empty, the glass is surrounding a rock in front of the aisles. The store is trashed. Bags of chips litter the linoleum floor and soak in pools of soda. An entire shelf of dried meat is tipped on it's head.
As I pick up a can of energy drink, something sounds off at the back of the room. My fingers grip onto each other and squish into a fist as I walk toward the noise. Something rustles again and I whip around the racks of crackers.
The scream is high pitched but quickly stifled. Baby blue eyes leer in the darkness, and white skin is barely luminous. A voice overly laden with southern-coastal Four accent breaks the silence.
"Enoch! Man you got out too."
A set of perfectly placed, fulgent teeth pop from the inescapable black. A chuckle free's itself from them, the jaw opening to allow the pressure to laugh to release.
"Do I know you?" I back away as an invisible hand grabs my shoulder. Meri was the only other from Four and this was not Meri. Nobody else spoke like that from the twenty-eight but he could be a hand.
"Dude; Fin Chesire, i'm part of the nursing crew. I worked on your back for a bit before I got transferred, but you were conscious at the time. Don't you remember me?"
"Oh yeah, Fin, I didn't recognize you in here. Sorry bout it. But hey, as an apology you can take anything out of here no charge."
Fin laughs as he palms a plastic ball filled with chocolates. He throws it to me and snatches another for himself.
"I better be going back on though or they'll skin me. Come on! They won't be glad to see you here either."
"Right." Even though I just got here, I had already picked up all I really wanted. Some crackers and the canned beverage were nestled between my arms and chest. The ball of chocolate hung by my fingertips and hits against my thigh with every stride.
The pedestrian road is illuminated by the street lamp that towered over our base. Daniel stands up when he sees two figures approaching him. Frozen, he appears to stutter into his options and freezes with fear.
"Cool it Dan, it's just Fin."
Fin steps forward, the light now showing all of him. Blood dribbles down his arm from an injury. His hair was a typical Four bleach and was styled unassumingly, which is nice to see from a Coastal.
"Dan! Good to see you moving, bullet wounds are always toughies. How you feeling?"
Daniel looks confused. His hand maneuvers under his shirt to prod at his bandaged abdomen. "I-i'm fine, but i'm going to need your I.D. Before I let you in; it's the rules."
Fin slaps his pockets before cursing, "Aw shoot, I left it in there, but I really gotta go or i'm dead y'know right?" He starts to the open door, Daniel stands up to block it but Fin shrugs past and delves into the entrance hall.
"Stay here!"
Daniel yells at me before following Fin inside. I sit back down and pop open the can. I don't understand why he is making the fuss. It's just Fin. The drink is a pungent lemon with some sort of mutated berry flavoring. The sour is sticky in my mouth and hard to spit out. I toss the rest of the can down the square.
The remnants hit with the sound of gunshot. I quickly register that the sound came from inside, and was gunshot. Something went terribly wrong. All I can think about is how weird Daniel was acting. I should have known.
I run into the hallway, a woman is screaming around the corner. Children's books are sprawled to the ground. Red ink is splattered over the paperbacks.
Fin is on the ground and so is one of the nurses. Daniel stands over them with a hand gun.
"How did you know-"
His sentence is cut short as I drive him into the wall. He grunts and squirms under my grip. I slam the gun from his hand and it skitters along the ground, coming to a stop against Fin's lifeless body.
"You think you'd just get away with this!? Well you ain't! You can't shoot people without getting shot hear? Now I gotta shoot you Dan and I don't wanta do that to Dan, but you're not Dan are you even?
I scream into his face and he shrinks with fear, his wrists dancing to escape their shackles. The squirming heightens as I pull an army knife from my pocket.
"Spy Enoch, He was a spy!"
I plunge the small blade into his arm.
"Fin killed her, he's not Fin. Enoch listen to me," he cries and pushes me away from him, "Look at me!"
A second wound is bleeding out his back in junction with the healing gunshot and the new stab wound. I look at the man on the ground and the memory that I didn't have any memory of him came back to me.
"I'm not your intruder."
Daniel starts to crumble to the floor, an outline of blood represents his former height against the wall. Liquid pools all around but I manage to stay dry.
The crowd starts to arrive to see who made the noise.
DISTRICT FIVE - Adrian Pylon
If you have never smelled the scent of burning human flesh, then do not.
It's a foul smell, and I don't recommend it. The stench wafts around as we stand around our fallen squad members' burning pyre.
The firelight casts a soft glow over everyone's bowed down faces. I bow down mine as well and make some kind wishes for the dead rebels.
Opening my eyes again, I see that everyone else is absorbed in their own worlds, some just staring off. Heck, some of my squad members are lying on the ground mumbling nonsense. I glance over to the pyre on the fountain's other side, the one for the peacekeepers.
I decide to head over, but crinkle my nose in disgust when I realize the smell is stronger here. I turn around, burying my nose in my jacket. But that's when I catch sight of a black, shadowy figure lurking within one of the corridors in Glory Square.
I perk up and squint my brown eyes. Surely enough, there is someone one there, their shadow visible due to the moonlight.
I have a mental debate in my head. Do I go investigate, or not? Eventually, my curiosity wins over.
But you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. Or in this case, curiosity killed the Adrian.
Using my silent tread, I walk over to where the person is standing, and clutch my blood-stained knife. I lean up against a wall and collect myself. I hesitate before speaking, me being a soft spoken person.
"W-Who are you?" I ask, my voice soft. "Who?" I demand, a little bit more forcefully this time.
"Who am I? May I ask who you are?" The person asks, their voice modulated and oozing of intelligence. Due to the deeper voice, I decide that a man is speaking. I cannot see him yet, but his voice is getting closer.
"I, um, A-Adrian Pylon," I stutter, "And you?"
"Me?" The disembodied voice asks. "I am Julius Justinius."
The man, Julius, emerges from the shadows, surveying me with his cold, grey eyes. He doesn't look very Capitol-ish, but his well groomed mustache and white lips prove otherwise. He sports a black dress suit.
"W-What brings you here?" I question.
The man ponders on this for a moment, scrunching his bushy eyebrows and twirling his black handlebar mustache around his calloused finger. I take note of the bloody wound going down his right forearm.
"Well," Julius begins, "I was just minding my own business, until I stumbled upon this havoc of a place."
The intruder straightens his posture, clasping his hands behind his back. His feet are in a ballet-first position, heels touching and feet aligned, and once in a while, he will rise onto his toes, making him at least five inches taller than me.
This guy is sketchy, and I know I must put my guard up.
I nod my head and ask, "Did you see the battle?" I gesture toward his wounded arm with my hand not holding my knife.
Julius brushes back his inky, luxuriant hair. "The battle?" He asks, "The battle! Oh yes. Quite a hectic event, wasn't it?"
I nod, tapping my finger uneasily against the blade I'm holding behind my back.
"That's how I got this little wound," Julius continues, "I was only taking a stroll, when I heard the gunshots. I dashed as quickly as I could to the place where I thought the attack was happening. Upon arriving, I found a peacekeeper lying on the ground, but when I bent down to help him, he only saw me as an enemy and slashed my arm with a blade!" His voice wavers at the end, and he rapidly blinks his eyes.
A bunch of questions swirl around my head. "Continue," I say, intrigued.
"I- I was so scared and I just f-felt so attacked," Julius cries. "I didn't know everything would turn out like this!" He rubs a hand up and down the front pocket of his dress pants.
What is he- The thought strikes me a moment too late, and I am held at gunpoint for the third time today.
"You actually believed all those fibs?" Julian snarls. "You credulous fool."
I gulp and glance over to where my squad is lounging around, completely oblivious to what's happening to me. I could call out for help...
"Think your squad members can save you, eh?" He asks, following my gaze. "Well those imbeciles can't. I'll kill every single one of you, so the Capitol can once again rain supreme. Fools like you are the reason all this war began," Julian spits.
He repositions the gun against my forehead, and stands in front of me, forcing me to my knees.
I have to think, I cannot die right here, right now at the hands of this crazy citizen.
Thinking on my feet, or rather my knees, I grip my knife and bring it down on his left leg. He screams, swearing mercilessly, and drops the gun.
The tables have turned, and I bring my knife to his throat, preparing to make the death blow. But, I... can't.
He stares at me, dumbfounded.
"Leave," I mutter, "Leave." I push him from my grasp. He nods frantically before scurrying off.
Oh look, shy guy Adrian actually has some guts in him. Who knew?
DISTRICT SIX - Andrew Carr
Night fell upon Glory Square, leaving barely any light. Shattered glass, and bits of debris littered the streets. Traces of blood stained the square in various places, accumulating in size in places where the fighting was the most gruesome. Many sculptures and displays that had once decorated the square were now destroyed, the fountain included.
This fountain, broken and demolished from battle, now served as a grave marker. Two fires burned brightly on either side of it. The bodies of fallen peacekeepers was considerably large, and burnt without remorse. The other fire, smaller in size, was surrounded by rebels as they payed their respects to their fallen soldiers, whose bodies now burned in ceremony.
The rebels, now in states of various injuries, had managed to secure Glory Square, though they paid a large price. Many had befriended the 8 fallen soldiers. Andrew Carr, a tired sort of man, was among the rebels who had done so.
Rimsy Trax, a mother with a deceased child, had died at Andrew's own faults, while he left with nothing more then an gun wound, which was now bandaged tightly. He watched the fire solemnly, drowning in guilt. When he had signed up, he did so that he may secure a future for his loved ones; Never did he think the price of freedom would be this hefty. There was bound to be far more deaths, but Andrew chose not to think of this. Instead, he stare at the fire, ignoring the stench of burning flesh. Soldiers around him did the same, other chatted quietly, and one man was attempting to sleep off the pain he acquired from his injuries.
The only audible sound was the occasionally chatting of the rebels, and the crackling of the fire. Most seemed to be in deep trances of thought, Andrew included.
It was only the booming voice of Peter Stele that brought Andrew out of thought. He stood, crouched over a slumped figure.
"We have an injured citizen, first-aid now!" he ordered, his voice loud with authority. A women obeyed his order by bringing a first-aid kit over to his hovering form. Andrew got up from his own spot, and walked towards Peter, who was tending to the citizen. Curiosity got the best of many Rebels, and soon there was a small crowd around the citizen.
The man was adorned in colorful clothing, deeming him a Capitol citizen. He was shaking uncontrollably. He had a large gash, that ran down the length of his arm, which was most likely a product of battle. Andrew glared disapprovingly at the Capitol citizen. Though he was injured, Andrew lacked remorse simply due to the fact that he was from the Capitol.
The injured Citizen stared at the circle of Rebels with wide eyes and shaky hands. He didn't seem to notice Peter applying bandages. The women from District 1 pulled Peter aside after he tended to the Citizen's wounds. They muttered quietly to themselves, seemingly ignoring the waiting squad surrounding them.
"What are we going to do with him?" Andrew asked, breaking the uneasy silence.
The pair continued talking to each other, ignoring Andrew, and the awaiting Rebels.
"I asked a question." Andrew stated, raising his voice. Peter stopped talking and gave him a cold glare in response.
"He will stay here until further notice, no harm is to come to him. This man is nothing but a commoner." Peter informed. The citizen grinned broadly at this order.
Andrew thought it to be suspicious, though nobody else seemed to notice. He didn't like the idea of having to babysit a Capitol lapdog. Others seemed to agree, one women groaned loudly, and a man rolled his eyes in annoyance. Despite this, Peter stayed close to the citizen while others returned to the fire. Andrew watched the Citizen who seemed to have lost the scared act and was now happily chatting with Peter.
A sense of uneasiness overcame Andrew. He didn't trust this man, and not just because he was from the Capitol. With this thought in mind, Andrew approached Peter, who was emerged in conversation.
"I agree with your cause, these games need to end." the man said, looking up at Peter.
"It's nice to know that we have supporters from the inside." Peter replied. Neither seemed to notice Andrew standing by.
"Well, honestly, I view the games as a sick and manipulated practice. Especially since it's used as a form of entertainment." exclaimed the man dramatically. He added a deep sigh for effect. Andrew grimaced.
"The games are sick, but you need to understand that we are fighting for freedom as well. I'm sure your aware that the Districts receive little respect and harsh treatment." Peter informed him. Something darkened in the eyes of the citizen.
This confirmed Andrew's suspicions that this man was not to be trusted.
"Well, I understand that-," the man winced,"you may view the running of things harshly, but surely you know that the Capitol means best."
Peter shot him a glare.
"I thought you detested the games?" he asked.
"I do, but I don't see a problem with the way things are run." the man said. At this, Andrew had enough of listening and approached with load footsteps.
"I, for one, feel that you don't detest the games whatsoever. You probably make bets ever year." Andrew said, interrupting their conversation. The citizen looked up at him in a peculiar sort of way. His face was free of emotion, yet something burned in his eyes.
"I do, in fact, detest the games; and fro your information, I've never made a bet in my life. You cannot honestly think that citizen in the Capitol is going to enjoy watching a death game." the citizen implied, brushing of Andrew's accusations.
"Yes Andrew, just because he is from the Capitol, doesn't mean he enjoys the games." Peter stated coldly.
Andrew gave a vacant stare.
"A Capitol citizen who detest the games and everything they stand for, how rare," Andrew replied sarcastically.
"My name is Julius." commented the citizen. Andrew rolled his eyes.
"Considering my position of authority, and yours as well, you are in no position to be making accusations. Let me deal with the man." Peter said.
"It's Julius." the citizen corrected. This earned him a glare from both men. He simply shrugged in response.
"His wound doesn't even look like a product of battle, it's to clean of a cut. And I'm not just stating my suspicions because he's a Capitol lap-"
"Stop there Six, it's up to me to decide whether or not this man can be trusted. He could be useful. Now go back to the fire, and stop poking your nose in other's business." Peter ordered, his voice laced with authority.
Andrew looked at hims skeptically, before turning around and walking back to the rest of the squad. Julius flashed a knowing smiled and waved at his back as he tuned back towards the fire.He and Peter continued to talk. Julius conned him into trusting him, and after a few hours of chatting, obtained far more information then he could hope for.
Soon, drowsiness and exhaustion took over the camp. A large portion of the squad slept soundly, Andrew included. Peter had fallen asleep as well.
The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the fire.
Julius grinned at the sleeping forms of the Rebel Squad. He got up from the bed that had been made for him to sleep, and walked towards the only insecure exit of Glory Square.
This man exited hastily, cackling with laughter as he left.
The rebel, now asleep, dreamt of freedom, and were completely unaware of two things.
That man was not an ordinary Citizen, nor was he the man he claimed to be.
And that the the Capitol now had the upper-hand in this battle.
DISTRICT SEVEN - Griffin Woods
The first thing that Griffin notices is a little glint of light that reflects that burning pyre’s, but dismisses it as nothing since he’s exhausted from the day’s work. He sits down for a moment, thinking that the night will never get over with when he looks up. He sees a small figure at the edge, but can’t make it out clearly.
“Griffin, there’s someone out there.” A voice says, making him look towards the person beside him. It was Saffron from district eleven.
“Well, let’s go see what he’s up to.” Griffin stated, getting up from his perch. Saffron nodded and they started to walk towards the figure. It was a man, a capital man, but a man nonetheless. At first glance he looked as if he was in pain and Griffin immediately searched for the wound. He saw the wound on his arm that was bleeding.
“Are you okay?” Saffron asked, running towards him.
“I am fine, just a little wound.” The man said, scanning over the two of them.
“No you’re not, come on, let’s get you patched up.” Griffin said, helping the man get over to the small camp that they had set up. It didn’t take too long for the others to notice him, and the squad started to get a little nervous since no one had been earlier around. Griffin lead him towards the medical tent and started to patch him up.
“What’s your name?” Griffin asked as he started to patch up the cut.
“Julius Justinius.” Julius replied, gritting his jaw a little since Griffin might have put the wrappings a little tightly around the arm. The first thing about his name that Griffin noticed was the way he said it. Other than the fact that he was dressed as one, it was clear that this man came from the capitol with his accent.
“Rest here, while I go get a drink of water for you.” Griffin said, getting out of the tent. He nodded over to Peter who was watching the tent like a hawk and started to get that glass of water.
“Who is he?” Peter asked him.
“A man named Julius Justinius, capitol citizen from the looks and the accent.” Griffin told him. He waited for the glass to fill, and looked over towards the leader. “If you want to get more information, you’re going to have interrogate him yourself.”
“What makes you say it will work?”
“I don’t know, maybe he’ll spill something of importance to us.”
“It didn't work on the others, why would it work on him?” Thorn from district 3 asked.
“He might be a little different than the others?” Griffin answered the question with one of his own. Truth be told, he didn't know if this man was going to be any different from the people that they talked to in the suburbs, but it didn't hurt to try.
Peter nodded to his statement, and made his way over towards the tent. Before the district two man went in, Griffin handed him the glass of water. Steele raised an eyebrow at him, and the district seven man just shrugged, knowing that the man might like a glass of water.
“Come in with me.” Steele said. “He knows you the most out of all of us, which isn't much at all.” Griffin nodded and went into the tent with him. The citizen looked cheerful as he sat on the table that was in the center of the room. Griffin and Peter had a more somber air around them since they just had to burn eight of their companions.
“Is this going to be like some good-cop, bad-cop thing?” The man asked, still having the smile on his face. Steele shook his head, handing the glass of water over towards Julius.
“I just have my friend with me since he’s one of the few that can hold me back if I try to hurt you.” Peter said, with no express on his face. Julius looked shocked for a moment, but it was just a second too late. ‘There’s something wrong here.’ Griffin thought as he tried to study the man during the interrogation. At one point, the two rebels had enough and walked out of the tent.
“I don’t trust him.” Was the first thing out of Griffin’s mouth.
“I wouldn't, and didn't, trust any capitol citizen that we meet.” Peter said as the group came over and waited for some news. “Nothing, just like the others.”
“Again? Why are we even bothering with this?” Meri scoffed at the verdict. “It’s the same with every capitol citizen.
“So, what are we going to do?” Taffeta from district 8 asked. The group stood in silence for a moment, waiting for Peter to give out his verdict.
“We kill him.” Was the answer that came out. At once, people either protested or agreed with the situation. Griffin froze for a moment, torn between the safest decision and the kindest decision. He couldn't do it, have a man killed even if he was a capitol citizen. It was different then when he was been fired upon. The Peacekeepers endangered the team, and so it was only fair that Griffin returned the fair. What he couldn't do was watch a citizen get killed in cold blood.
“I say we don’t.” Griffin said, stopping everyone. “I say we let him go.”
“Are you nuts? He could tell the president where we are!” Laurence Soye pointed out. Griffin shrugged, not wanting to let Julius die.
“They already know we’re here, anyway, so what does it matter? I agree with Griffin, I say we let him go.” Saffron said, taking her stance. Griffin gave her a small smile, thanking her silently for agreeing with him. The girl returned his smile, before waiting for the rest of the group.
“Fine, we’ll let him go, but if things gets worse, it’s on your head.” Steele agreed, to which Griffin nodded. Griffin walked over and grabbed a backpack, putting in a small amount of food and a small water bottle in the pack. Then he walked towards the tent and opened the flap.
“Come on, you’re leaving.” Griffin said, throwing the pack into Julius arms. He caught the pack with a shocked look on his face.
“Why are you letting me go? I thought you would kill me.” The man asked.
“Well, it was an option but I didn’t like it, so I got our leader to agree with me to let you go.” Griffin answered, and walked towards the other side of the square, dragging him to the edge of the camp.
“But why? Why are you doing this?” He asked again.
“Because I have hope, I have hope that maybe the rebels will bring a more equal and kinder place to live in.” Griffin replied. “Even the smallest person can have hopes and dreams. I just want the best environment to do it.” With that, Griffin turned around, leaving the Capitol citizen behind as he walked back towards camp, wondering why he just let his reasons out. It didn't matter anymore, so Griffin pushed it to the back of his mind, but something was still not sitting well with him about the citizen. He just couldn't pin what it exactly was.
DISTRICT NINE - Almonzo Dell
NO ENTRY
DISTRICT TWELVE - Daniel Henderson
The others sat in a circle, voicing their plans and views on our current predicament, but I was that one person who never participated in constructing plans or sharing views. It’s not that I disliked anyone there in particular, but I didn’t want to be trapped if their discussion heated.
“You’re a moron!” Peter exclaimed at Alana, who glared at him. “We do not need the others, we Careers can do anything without killing ourselves,” he stated with venom entwined in his voice and the others gazed at him with shock written all over their features. Except for Pyrite, who seemed to be highly entertained by Peter’s outburst, but then again, she was a Career.
And she’s your friend, how many other friends do you have Daniel? Eh...Zero. Loser.
I shook my head, retreating from the others who exclaimed and protested in frustration. I started down one of the empty strips between to shops before I sat down, resting my head against the wall as I trained my gaze upon the charcoal-black skies. One could hardly see the stars with the black-plume of smoke layering the sky and I dipped my head down in discourage.
I didn’t know how long I sat like that for, but when I heard the sound of metal clanging on the ground, I craned my neck slightly to the left.
“...H-Help me,” a male voice pleaded and I jerked my head towards the source, surprise lighting my features as I gazed at the man who stumbled towards me from the darkness. He cradled his arm that bled and I couldn’t help but frown as he left a trail of blood on the ground. “Y-You, could you help me? I need you to come here,” the man stated with weakness and I scrambled to my feet, paying no heed to the sharp jab of pain in my rib cage.
I started towards the man, my hand resting on the blade strapped to my waist-band in case he decided to jump out at me, but he was injured, I don’t think he’d be capable of jumping me...I think. “My mother warned me not to speak to strangers, why should I help you?” I inquired. To my surprise, the man chuckled slightly as he stood straighter, his golden-curls brushing against his cheeks as he discerned me with twinkling emerald-coloured eyes.
I gulped slightly, calculating the chances of me winning in hand-to-hand combat with his height and structure, but those possibilities of winning slipped from my hands as his hand shot out, grabbing me by my shirt and drawing me towards his chest. I dare not breathe as he glared down at me, his eyes now darkening with amusement. “Your mother was correct,” he hissed as he detached the blade from his waist-band, but before he could drive it into my chest, I jerked my knee into his groin and he gasped as his hand slipped from my shirt.
I spun around, laying my entire weight on my left leg as I drove my right foot into his chest. He grunted as he crashed to the ground and as if remembering the gash inflicted upon his arm, he cried out in pain. “I-I underestimated you.”
“Clearly,” I growled as I sank to the ground in order to straddle him, but the space prevented me from securing him and he jerked his knee into my rib cage. Pain exploded in my chest as I crumpled to the ground. The man smiled as he yanked my hair before driving my head into the ground. “Ah!” I exclaimed as he did it again.
Blood splattered the ground and my vision became disoriented, but before I knew it, I heard the distinct sound of a gun cocking. And not only that, but the strong and toneless voice of Vibbius Cretore sounded. “Julius Justinius, why are you here trying to kill one of our team members?” He inquired and the man-Julius, smiled.
The urge to slap that smile off his freaking handsome face was very high indeed. “He started it,” Julius answered as he removed himself from me. “And how are you? I hear you’ve joined these-” Before Julius could finish his pleasantries, Vibbius shot him in the arm and the most horrible screeching sound tumbled out his mouth as he crumpled to the ground. Pyrite, who was standing extremely close to Vibbius, smiled, but once her eyes landed on me, her eyes glittered with concern. “Y-you shot me!” He exclaimed, surprise evident on his pale features. I started to chuckle, earning quizzical gazes from everyone as I used the wall to stand on my feet. “Can we keep him?” I asked with a sardonic smile and Julius growled me.
“No, Daniel, we can’t keep a rabid dog, especially one from the Capitol,” Vibbius answered before he shot Julius in the stomach. He gasped sharply as he crumpled to the ground, but it was clear that Vibbius was trying to make him suffer. I, for one, wanted him dead at this very second.
As if hearing my thoughts, Iliana strode forward, gently pushing Vibbius aside before raising her gun. “We don’t have time for a Capitol citizen like him, he may be a spy for all you know,” Iliana stated before she shot Julius in the head twice.
No one battered an eye as they observed the puddle of blood expand from Julius. Pyrite, however, rushed towards me. I threw a smile at her, but that didn’t do anything at all to soothe her concern as I sagged against the wall, one hand clutched to my chest and the other to my head. “At least you have your attractiveness,” Pyrite stated as she gently placed her fingers upon the gash on my head.
I winced slightly. “You’re lying, aren’t you?” I muttered under my breath. She smiled before she helped me to my feet, but I stumbled slightly and one of my other team members caught me. And out of all of them, it was Adrian. He had that worried expression on his face, but he didn’t say a single thing as we strode out of the alley.
“Ow!” I exclaimed as Adrian placed me on the ground without gentleness. I glared at him, but he only smiled as he acquired the doctor’s attention. The man was wiry-thin and he had short hair that was the colour of strawberries streaked with wisps of grey and white. He settled down onto his knees before me, a concerned expression clutching to his features as he examined my possibly broken ribs.
I kept saying ouch, despite how much it annoyed Pyrite to the extent were she had to slap her hand over my mouth for me to stop. I smiled at that, but the true pain exploded in my chest once again as the doctor wrapped strange bandages around my chest and waist. I struggled and protested, but Adrian had decided to hold me down as the doctor administered the last of my medication.
“Gee, you’re a wuss,” Adrian said as he settled next to me. I shook my head, barely unable to speak a word as the pain in my ribs slowly subsided. “You’ll be fine, I’m sure these bandages will help you,” he added quietly.
I gazed at him, as if noticing his presence for the first time. We were both quiet and shy, and clearly didn’t associate ourselves with plan making. Could I possibly make him as my friend? I smirked at the thought. A loser making friends. Hah.
“You better rest now,” Iliana ordered as she strode past, glaring down at me before she settled onto one of seats next to Vibbius. I hesitated, but decided to close my eyes. I didn’t exactly know who brushed my hair out of my eyes of placed a blanket over me, but I was truly grateful for that.
And for the first time in seven years, I didn’t dream of my brother or my mother.
CAPITOL - Vibbius Cretore
We entered the squad as equals. Yet, naturally, it wasn't too long before certain members began to take charge ahead of others. It wasn't too much of a difficult choice, however, half the squad have barely seen twenty-five winters. Knowing the Capitol, and its murderous leaders, as well as I do automatically placed me up for the challenge. Iliana follows in that respect and her word is taken very seriously amongst most of the squad. Steele from District Two is also someone I can immediately place my trust within. He leads well yet shares a burning distaste for Gamemakers... So I've decided I cannot entirely trust him with my back turned.
“If we move on ahead, we could split at the cross roads. They would have to use far more resources to hold us both back.” Peter Steele states, his right hand drifting across the holographic-map.
We've set up a temporal camp in Glory Square. Immediately Iliana took herself off and opened out a map; others soon joined her. I stand with Peter on my right side and Iliana in front of us on the other side of the hologram. Beside her are the two from District Three although they don't vocally contribute much, their practice will be needed. Across from Steele is the woman from District Thirteen, her trained eyes constantly focussed upon the glimmering electric-complex.
“Where do you suggest we go?” I ask her, my eyes completely fixated on her clear concentration.
“Straight on ahead. Splitting up would damage our resources also.” She states with a blunt force that is actually respected when you're in District Thirteen. I smile at the training which is evident in her; I actually watched her progress for quite some time and am glad she was assigned to the infiltration squad.
“I agree.” The District Three girl mutters. I watch her and raise my eyebrows, urging her to continue. She swallows and then goes on to talk about how they have energy and men to lose, though we do not. Statistics are involved, its all very confusing. “Am I correct?”
“I don't know... you tell me.” I grin slyly. This little squad of ours has almost become a training centre. It soothes me to watch the younger amongst us take wild guesses and intelligent risks... or the other way round.
The Five girl is standing some feet away but close enough to hear our conversation. Her facial features are familiar, most of the remaining squad I can at least place a District too now. I turn to her with a puzzled expression. She looks shocked that I have decided to pay her any attention at all.
“Amelia Mae, right?” I ask, lifting my hand and pointing at her softly. She nods twice. “Ahh, I'm getting better!” I nudge Peter beside me and he sighs with a slight smile. Thats as much as I'll get out of him, clearly.
“We'll rest for an hour. Regroup the rest and check for supplies. Meet back here in exactly sixty minutes, each of you.” I state, perhaps laying down too much tone of authority yet the group before me nod respectfully and without question. I bow slightly and walk away with Peter following close beside me.
“Well they destroyed your idea,” I laugh as Peter and I walk away and towards the main bulk of the camp.
“Indeed.” He responds. Although he's not laughing, humour is... somewhat evident in his stone-like voice. I turn to see the smallest approach of a smile make its way aross his face... he reminds me of someone. I'd die within seconds of telling him who, however.
Just then, beside his face I catch sight of muffled moving in the muggy distance. The slight light of dawn does not hide everything. My eyes widen and immediately Peter understands. He turns around slightly, just long enough to also catch the small spark of movement.
“See it...?” I ask under my breath.
“Clear enough.” He nods, acting as though he cannot see a thing. I reach for a single blade that is strapped to me knee and whistle over to Thorn and Iliana. They look our way with questioning stares. I flick my hand three times and rub an index finger across the palm of my other hand. From the next look they give, they've understood my warning. Iliana immediately shuts away the hologram by picking up the small device. Thorn and the District Three girl beside him scramble in search for their weapons and Laure moves away to warn others.
“3...” I whisper to Peter.
“2.” He nods back, his face as tight and his turquoise eyes flashing with determination.
“Hello gentlemen!” A shrill calls from across the square... right where the movement had come from. Before exchanging a slight puzzled glare we lift up our weapons for attack and look at whomever approaches.
It is a man. A man entirely dressed in a crimson jesters styled suit. He strides awkwardly over as though he has blisters upon his feet. His elf-like shoes exaggerate and clearly hard to wear casually. I lift my rifle from its lock with the knowledge that Peter will remain trained upon the unusual visitor.
“Well well well well well. What is this all about?” The deranged man has an equally queer pitch to his voice as to the manner of his entrance.
“Stay RIGHT there.” I shout over to him and he stops immediately as though a silent statue.
“Is there a tacker jacker on me? Oh dear damn whizzles, I KNEW I shouldn't have worn red today!” His voice travels extravagantly in pitch and volume.
“What in the...” Iliana mutters as she strides over, her unsure arm lifting a pistol. At this point, most of the camp has stopped whatever they are doing to watch in complete and utter bewilderment at the situation.
“Walk towards us with your hands away from your sides.” I state and flick my hand. At the order, Laure stands on my other side and prepares for an attack. Her training really does impress me. The code-order I gave was one rather old and used in the first rebellion, its a surprise she has understood.
The vibrant stranger throws his arms in the air and walks over. He glares at Iliana, Steele and others. “Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to point?!” He spits out the words with demonic anger.
“What is your name?” I shout over the small distance that sits between us. He does not reply, he only frowns more and more, apparently scared by the guns.
“Don't lower, whatever you do.” Iliana nods to those around her.
“I asked you what your name is!” I shout again, this time, desperate anger lining my voice.
“I know you are but what am I!” The Jester beams, bouncing about, his arms flying in the air.
“Stand still or I WILL shoot.” Peter yells from behind the power of his rifle.
“I know you are but what am I!” The strange man shrills again and charges forward, a little too fast for my liking. I nudge Steele and he fires within seconds. The Jester is blown back by three initial bullets. He staggers and stumbles in the drunken manner but Iliana finishes him off, followed by bullets from others.
Two rebels move over to him and search the body immediately. Steele lowers his weapon with a sigh.
“Vibbius...” Iliana mutters but I nod to show my understanding.
“They thought to confuse us. Anything could have happened in the time we were distracted. You three, search the perimeter.” I nod at three younger rebels that stand beside Iliana.
“You two, bring his body to the centre. He should be examined properly.” Laure commands the two that now have the infiltrator in their carry.
I turn around to the closest camera I can find. Time for my daily cliché, I think as I smile to myself. They had underestimated the dedication of the rebels.
“This is your weapon? A deranged trickster? Not going to lie Alithia... I had hoped you hadn't lost your talents but it appears this will be easier than anticipated.”