Chapter Text
July 4th, 50 ADD - Reaping Day of The 50th Hunger Games (Second Quarter Quell) - District 3
Another Reaping, another day where children will be sent to die. It was exactly a year ago that Wiress was reaped. She was reaped and she won, against the odds. She remembered it all too well, the panic and anticipation. The numbness as she walked up the steps to the stage. She had decided she wouldn't let The Capitol see her weakness, they had gotten her but they wouldn't get her tears, they didn't deserve her tears. No one did. Her tears were hers and hers alone.
She hadn't even let her brothers see them. It had been then, in the Justice Building, seeing them for what could've been the last time. Wiress didn't want them to remember her crying, not when they needed her to be strong. She was their baby sister and they were sending her off to die. They had raised her since their parents died, kept her clothed and fed and safe. It had always been the five of them, but soon five would become four and four would become three, as Ward's lungs got worse.
It was at that moment that Wiress had decided that she would win The Hunger Games. Losing was no longer an option to her. Her brothers wouldn't see her die and The Capitol wouldn't see her cry.
And they didn't. Because she had won, against all the odds she had calculated in her head. She wasn't particularly fast or strong, or some expert in fighting techniques. But she had a brain and a brilliant one at that, coupled with her intuition. It didn't take much to outsmart the Gamemakers and remain hidden for days on end. Wiress had become not only a Victor, but her win had been historical. The only Victor in the history of the games to never take someone's life. No one had ever exited the games with a kill count of zero but her.
She had won, but had she really?
Wiress didn't think she had, as she pulled at the dress the stylists had shoved her into. It was an old-style dress, grey satin and short lace sleeves, loose fitting with scratchy grey lace making its way up her neck. Her hair, once cut into choppy, uneven layers, was now too long and hanging past her hips. The Capitol-provided stylists had not only shoved her into an uncomfortable, if not impractical, dress but had also lengthened her hair with synthetics. No doubt at the command of President Snow, who had made a comment about her shorter hair the last time she was in The Capitol only a month prior.
Her mentor, Beetee, had told her it was because she was still shiny and new. It was her first year as Mentor, only a year after her victory, all eyes would be on her. That's why Snow wanted her to look her best, that's why he sent stylists with hair extensions and uncomfortable dresses. After a couple of years, her luster would fade in the Capitol and she could fade into the background, like Beetee had. But for right now, she was their star and she would simply have to endure until she wasn't.
She didn't know what she looked like anymore, only what she felt. The mirrors in her home had long been covered up, as had all of the other reflective surfaces. Breaking mirrors was bad luck and while she didn't believe in most superstitions, she didn't think she could handle more bad luck. It wasn't like she could be Reaped again, but it was better to be safe than sorry on a Reaping Day. And besides, Wiress had never been the most vain of girls, constantly primping and preening in front of the mirror. She could live without them.
The old grandfather clock chimed its bells loudly behind her, three times in a row. Fifteen minutes til the Reaping. Wiress's hands began to shake, begging her to flap them. She stilled them, taking a deep breath and making her way out of her house. The house that didn't feel like her house.
Beetee and Joule were standing on the front steps of their home, staring blankly at the sight in front of them. Ampert, their son, was running ahead, catching up with some children his age at the gate of Victor's Village. Their eyes were focused on him and him only. They didn't even tear their eyes away from him when Wiress waved at them before following after the children, confused at the reaction she had received from them. Joule's hands were placed on top of her growing baby bump, her second pregnancy only recently announced. Ampert was so excited to be a big brother and Wiress, she had already offered up free babysitting when they needed it. Beetee had joked that the baby would be in his workshop before they could even speak their first words.
It wasn't long before she was stopped by the only other two Victors in Three, Ada and Rosalind, a pair of older women who shared a house in the Victors' Village. They had won the 24th and 29th Games, respectively, the first Victors Three had. They were lovely women, warm and kind, and motherly. Wiress barely remembered her mother, but Ada and Rosalind, they were what she'd always pictured a mother to be like. They had taken care of her in the time since she'd returned from the arena, making sure she ate and slept, rather than working relentlessly in her workshop. Beetee had told her they did the same with him, when he had first won, and they still did sometimes. But mainly, they spoiled Ampert like he was their own grandson and made sure that everybody in the Village had time for a "family" supper.
It was more comforting than Wiress could explain.
"Are you nervous, Essie?" Rosalind asked, linking their arms together as they walked. Ada and Rosalind were ones for nicknames, and as such, Wiress had become Essie. She later learned that Beetee was Teetee, Joule was Joules and Ampert was Perdy. Just like how Ada was Ady and Rosalind was Ros. It made her feel like she was part of their family, like she was included.
"My dear, of course she's nervous. It's her first year as Mentor and its a Quell. I remember how nervous you were, Ros," Ada said with a barking laugh. Wiress couldn't lie, she was nervous. "She was sweating bullets, Essie, like you wouldn't believe. I don't think she'd been that nervous in the arena." Rosalind shoved her partner at that, causing the other woman to stumble back slightly.
"Oh be quiet, Ady. Don't tell the girl how to feel."
They bickered, Ada and Rosalind, but Wiress always knew they loved each other and meant well, despite their teasing. "I wasn't telling her how to feel, darling. I was extrapolating."
"Big words, Ady, big words."
Ada rolled her eyes but she had a smile on her face that Wiress couldn't help but return. "Okay, okay. But seriously, kiddo, how are you feeling? It's okay to be nervous."
Wiress knew that, that it was alright for her to be nervous. Anybody would be on Reaping Day, you'd be stupid not to. But she shook her head and repeated the same line she had the year before, when they'd asked her the same question. "They don't get to see my nerves."
Ada's eyes shined with pride and Rosalind rubbed her arm comfortingly. "Atta girl!" "That's our chameleon, Ady, always changing with the colors of the wind."
It didn't take long before they were walking up the stage, built in front of their Justice Building. Wiress could feel her palms begin to sweat and she felt cold, despite the balmy July heat. The three of them took their positions, seated behind their escort, who was the only one there at that moment. They were the first to arrive on stage. District 3's escort was a woman named Hypatia, very young and fresh out of the Capitol's University, not much older than Wiress or the children she was reaping. She was green, both figuratively and literally, as her skin and hair were dyed in shades of green, so bright that they hurt Wiress's eyes. She was a giggler, always giggling, no matter what she said or did. It was hard to take her very seriously. She wondered if anyone did, in the Capitol or otherwise. She knew nobody in Three did.
Beetee was on time, which for him, meant he was late. He still had that far-off look on his face, staring straight ahead. He came to stand next to her and gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek in greeting, the same as he had done with Ada and Rosalind. Hypatia and the rest of the Capitol crew liked to have Beetee at the head of their quartet, she'd learned, they claimed it was better for the optics but Wiress had feeling it was more that they liked to show off Three's lone male victor. Three was the only district to have predominantly female Victors, even in the Career Districts, the male Victors outweighed the female. Beetee stood eerily still next to her, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
A peak behind him told Wiress his knuckles were nearly white, with how tightly he was clutching. Her brows began to furrow as she watched the District filter in around the stage. Chills ran up her spine, only a year ago she was one of them.
She spotted Joule in the crowd of adults, right in the front, rather than hiding in the back, and Wiress could swore she had tears running down her face. She looked to Ada and Rosalind, who were very pointedly not looking at her, instead looking at Beetee with looks that conveyed both concern and knowing. Her eyes darted around, trying to figure out what they were so concerned about, why Beetee and Joule had been off. There was something there, something that nobody had told her about. Some secret, some joke she wasn't in on. Just like school all over again.
"Happy Hunger Games!" Hypatia giggled out to the crowd. She started in on her speech, the one someone had no-doubt written for her. Wiress could probably recite it word-for-word, the history of Panem and the Dark Days. She drowned her out, preferring to watch the faces of her fellow Victors as she tried to suss out what it was they were hiding. Were they hiding from her? Or were they hiding from the Capitol? Wiress didn't know, but she wanted to. There was a feeling in her gut, pulling her closer and closer to an answer.
Hypatia was babbling on excitedly about the rules of the Second Quarter Quell, about exhilarating it was, that an extra twenty-four children would die on top of the expected twenty-three. Of course it would seem exhilarating, if you were merely expected to watch and not participate in the killing of your peers. It was insensitive, most Capitolites were, her mentors had warned her about them. They would say things without meaning or even feelings, just pure word vomit. Beetee in particular had told her to ignore them, while Ada and Rosalind had told her to simply match their games by playing her own.
She still didn't understand what that meant exactly.
Her eyes fluttered over briefly, to where her brothers were hiding within the crowd. She hadn't spoken to them in months, not since after her birthday and the Victory Tour. Not since Ward's death. Wicket and Watts had distanced themselves from her, over what she had done for Ward, what he had asked them to do for him. She wondered, briefly, if they would ever forgive her. Web was the only one who still spoke with her, he practically lived with her in Victor's Village and they spoke constantly. He understood, or at least he tried, why. Why she covered up her mirrors, why she helped Ward die, why, why, why. All of her why's. It wasn't too shocking, given that she and Web had been attached at the hip since before they could walk and talk. Ward always said it was because they were born so close together, when the rest of them had been born too far apart. They weren't twins, only eleven months apart in age; an oddity, since their brothers were all at least five years apart.
She hoped that one day things would change and her brothers would forgive her and be her brothers again. Web said to give it time, but Wiress had her doubts that time was what they needed. Her two oldest brothers avoided her eyes, she avoided theirs.
So instead she focused on overly green Hypatia, as she practically bounced her way to the fish bowl filled with names of girls Wiress had known all her life. She wondered, briefly, if she would know the girls selected. Or if they would be too young for her to know them. Dio Wright was the first name to be called, Wiress knew her, from the factories and from school, she was pretty sure they were cousins on her mother's side. She was just a year or two younger than her, at seventeen. The poor girl shook the whole way up the stage and Wiress's hand moved on its own accord, as if to move out of line to steady her. But Beetee slapped her hand away, pushing her back slightly in line. She looked back at him in shock, but he didn't even flinch or look at her in apology.
The second name was Coil Tesla. Eighteen years old and even smaller than most, skinny and short. Her family came from the poorest part of Three, farthest from all of them, and she was smart as a whip, but had never been given much of a chance. She was being held by her friends in the crowd, sobbing and screeching, a reaction that made Wiress's stomach turn, knowing that the Capitol would simply eat up her reaction. The poor girl vomited on her way to the stage and Wiress knew instantly that she wasn't ready for what was to come. She could only hope that if she died, it would be mercifully quick.
Hypatia bounced her way over to the fish bowl of boy names. She plucked the first name without flourish. Lect Crowley was the name she called and Wiress looked to see him, tall Lect Crowley, whom she had gone to school with a million lifetimes ago. He was eighteen, his nineteenth birthday was next month, if she remembered correctly. Today was supposed to be his last Reaping and now it might be the last time he saw his family and friends. He was stoic as he walked up to the stage, no emotion evident on his face. She gave him a small smile-as she had done for Dio and Coil-as he came to stand next to Hypatia, tense and very, very still.
Wiress felt like she was looking in the mirror at herself, only a year earlier, when she was stubbornly choosing not to give the Capitol a show like they wanted. No tears, no smiles, only blank, neutral looks.
The last name was about to be called. She saw Beetee tense out of the corner of her eye and Joule place a hand over her mouth in the crowd, tears openly flowing. Wiress's gut was screaming at her, the urge to vomit growing stronger. She looked at Ada and Rosalind, both of whom looked like they were struggling not to break down like Joule. Her eyes focused on the crowd, spying Ampert. Small, curly-haired Ampert, standing with his peers for his first Reaping. He was smiling. Always smiling. Everyone was staring at him. Beetee, Joule, Ada, Rosalind.
Wiress's eyes widened. No. Hypatia giggled as she reached in for the last name.
"Ampert Latier!"
Wiress's stomach dropped. No. No. No. Not Ampert, not the sweet little boy she had come to know over the last year. He was smart, so smart, he had Beetee's brains and Joule's looks, the couple always joked. And he was kind and gentle, and so witty, with quick responses that Wiress envied. She loved him, he was like the little brother she had never had. Ampert couldn't go into the arena. Wiress didn't think he would come back.
She couldn't breathe as she watched him practically skip to the stage, deceptively carefree. Joule was openly sobbing, loudly and someone in the crowd had wrapped their arms around her to comfort her. But there would be no comfort. She knew her son was going to die. Wiress wanted to throw up.
Wiress spared a glance at Beetee, at Ada, at Rosalind. All of them were looking at Ampert with knowing expressions, all of them sad. It hit Wiress in an instant. They knew. They all knew he would be Reaped today. Ampert's fate had been sealed before his name had even been called. He wouldn't survive this game. He was never meant to. And they all had known it, except for Wiress. They didn't tell her. She looked around at her mentors, searching for answers in their faces but she came up blank. They didn't look at her.
Ampert was only twelve. He was small for his age, too skinny and the pickiest eater Wiress had ever known, and she had lived with Watts during his phase of eating only bread. He was smart, oh-so-smart, just like all of them had been. It had been why they won. But Ampert wasn't meant to win, no, Wiress realized. He was meant to die and his family was meant to watch. This wasn't an act of fate. This was an act of vengeance, a punishment for rebelling. Beetee had told her, during her Victory Tour, about retaliation from the Capitol and Snow.
Snow didn't like it when people defied him, openly or not. He was warning her then, telling her that Snow wouldn't like what she had done in her Games, winning by hiding and never spilling any blood. She hadn't given them a show and there would be consequences, big or small. She had told him that she didn't care, Snow could do whatever he wanted to her, it didn't matter because she had done what was deemed impossible and outsmarted his Gamemakers. They didn't have more than thirty seconds of footage of her in the arena, she gave short answers in her interviews. Wiress didn't want to play their games. Not when she knew it was wrong.
She wouldn't be some shiny new toy that sang and danced for their entertainment. Wiress was a person, not a pawn.
He had told her she was brave with a smile and let her in on his secret, his plan to disrupt the Capitol's communications system. To show them that they wouldn't be silent, that they wouldn't just lay down and be toys for them to play with. He had succeeded, Wiress had helped him, only a little bit, not enough to get her caught. But just enough. He had turned off their communication for almost three hours, right after her Victory Tour had ended.
Wiress never thought about the consequences of their actions, not at that time or afterwards, only of their success. She didn't think about how they would retaliate. Against her, against Beetee. Against their families.
This was Beetee's punishment. Having to watch his son die in the same arena he had survived. She wondered how long he had known, how long he had waited to tell anybody. Why he hadn't told her. Ampert didn't look shocked to have been called, did he know? Did he know the fate that awaited him?
Ampert Latier was twelve years old and he wouldn't see thirteen. He wouldn't be a big brother and meet the new baby, or teach them to code, like he had been talking about. He would die in the arena and Wiress knew it would be painful because Snow wouldn't want anything less. Wiress looked over at Beetee, eyes boring into the side of his head and trying to goad him into looking back at her. He did, but there was no emotion, no feeling. Just pure blankness. His son was going to die and he had accepted that. But there was something, besides the grief, a small twinkle in his eyes. Wiress knew that twinkle. Beetee had a plan. He wouldn't reveal it, not yet. But it wouldn't save Ampert, Wiress knew.
But a plan was a plan and Beetee was very good at those. They would pay. The Capitol, Snow. They would pay for this.
She turned and stared straight back out at the crowd. Nobody cheered, everybody was silent. There would be no Victor for District 3 this year. Four bodies, four caskets. No new Victors. Another Reaping Day come and gone, without any hope for a change.
More death, more tears. This wasn't going to end. Not without a fight and a few more bodies to add to the pile.
"District Three's tributes for the 50th Hunger Games, our Second Quarter Quell!" Hypatia trilled. "May the odds be ever in their favor!"
Didn't she know the odds were never in their favor?