The Hunger Games: Mashup

Chapter Twenty Nine

The Capitol

The monitors of the labs made soft buzzing sounds as they processed data and information. Kyoya stood by, walking around as he glanced at each computer's work. He would nod occasionally and smile to himself. Sometimes, he would even spare his workers a comment. Other than that, he would keep to his work in silence. Dr. Frankenstein ushered Kyoya over, looking at his large screen.

“Kyoya, I'm having a bit of trouble with the suits,” said Dr. Frankenstein. Kyoya moved to his his side, looking at the digital model with curiosity.

“It looks fine to me. Why are you so concerned?” asked Kyoya. Dr. Frankenstein pursed his lips and his hand not on the computer mouse reached up to twist the knob imbedded into his skull.

“The design is too heavy,” said Stein unhappily. “The prototypes have no chance of getting off of the ground.”

“Why is that?” asked Kyoya steadily. Stein shook his head in disbelief.

“There's too much practical machinery needed to make the suit work. Even if we trimmed away at it—and we have already done that—there will still be too much mass to get it to work the way we want it to.” Stein sighed, cranking the knob further. “It's expensive trying to make these suits in the first place—if we want to do what we planned on doing, we're going to need a lot more work—and that's only to affect the motion of the human. If we want to even begin to work on a human weighed down by thirty pounds of metal—impossible to achieve in four days.”

Kyoya strode away from Dr. Frankenstein, pacing back and forth along the floor. Suddenly, all noise stopped. The staff tensed, listening to the clack of his footsteps on the floor. Kyoya turned around, glaring at his friend mercilessly.

“The tributes are scheduled to be here by tomorrow night,” he began slowly. He pinched his temples, taking in a deep breath. “I told the President that everything was fine. Tell me, Dr. Stein, why is it that nothing has been done?!”

The staff was silent, bearing Kyoya's frustrated and intimidating glare. The rookie Light turned his chair, facing towards Kyoya. “It's not our fault, Kyoya. President Phantom wanted this field made. He himself put in a specific order to build it—but the suits aren't working.”

Kyoya turned on Light, his strike making a harsh sound that echoed in the room. A bruise blossomed across the young man's cheek from the assault on the face. Light stood his ground, but fearfully averted his gaze from Kyoya. Kyoya exhaled a harsh sigh of exhaustion. You could see the shadows of the night eating away at the fair skin beneath beautiful eyes. He was only seventeen. If he was a district child, he could even be in the Games. His Capitol genius was a curse on him. He was required to submit his skills to Phantom at the age of 12, and now he was paying for being so brilliant.

“I haven't had a good night's sleep in three days,” he said softly. “I've been living off of instant noddles and cocaine for the past few days. If I don't get some results within the next three hours—I WILL HAVE ALL OF YOU EXECUTED WITHIN THE WEEK!!”

Everyone flinched at his words. Kyoya's nostrils flared. His beautiful face was contorted with rage. Light, with his bruised cheek, stood up slowly.

“Forgive me, Kyoya, sir...but there's no way to make the suit work the way President Phantom's requested arena needs it to work. We will have to go to Plan B,” said Light. At first, he looked livid. In fact, Kyoya even raised his hand to strike Light again. Light cringed away, but no contact came to him. When he opened his eyes, remarkably, Kyoya had started laughing. Softly at first, and then loudly and harshly, the insanity twisting his smile in multiple places. When he stopped, it was sudden and abrupt. He crossed his arms, glaring at Light, returning to his elegant stature.

“And when I tell the president...who do you think will pay for your misconduct?”

“Misconduct...sir?”

“Answer the question, Light,” Kyoya said with a forced calm voice. Light swallowed hard.

“You...sir?”

“Yes, me, Light Yagami. Because the more I invest in this ordeal—the more deeply imbedded I am into its progress. If I don't make the President's wish come true, I will be the one to be poisoned, or assassinated, or brutally mugged in the alleyway of a street,” said Kyoya. His eyes narrowed dangerously. He looked terrifying—insane, really.

“If I am to be killed over your incompetence, you can be DAMNED well sure that I'll make your heads roll along with mine.”

Kyoya left the threat hanging in the air, dangling it in their faces. A voice suddenly spoke up, the likes of which Kyoya wished to throttle the possessor of.

“Dr. Frankenstein, why not send it to Dr. Shou Tucker?” suggested Kyoya's brother. Kyoya looked down to the left of Frankenstein's seating arrangement, glaring at its occupant—Ochiai Kazuhiko, the illegitimate son of the Ootori family's head. Having taken his mother's maiden name, There was no record of relation between Kyoya and Kazuhiko. Their father's affair had been secret and undocumented. Kyoya's mother had never known about it, and Kazuhiko's had died before she could tell anyone aside from Mr. Ootori. Only the children, smart and knowledgeable in the ways of physical attributes of lying and truth perception, knew about it. They kept it secret, but their rivalry was very well known. Kazuhiko went to work for their father's childhood friend, Phantom. Kyoya already worked as Phantom's right-hand man. They met and made the connection, agreeing to a mutual hatred and competition for Phantom's approval. Kyoya had a head start on Kazuhiko's competition due to Kazuhiko's lack of years and experience. However, Kyoya was quickly losing Phantom's favor because of the lack of calm he had sustained during the period of the 13th Hunger Games creation.

“Why send the suit to Dr. tucker?” asked Frankenstein dubiously. “He specializes in bio-engineering and scientific life forms.”

“But he deals with the creation of artificial muttations, correct?” asked Kazuhiko. Frankenstein nodded and Kazuhiko smiled. “Then he should be able to design us exactly what we need—lighter than air, and quick to create. A simple concept, really. I studied it recently, so the process should only take us two hours to make all of the suits and put the final touches on.”

“That's amazing, Kazuhiko!” proclaimed Light with moderate surprise on his face. He gave Kazuhiko a small smile.

“Then, Kazuhiko, would you like to go down and request Dr. Tucker to make us what we need?” asked Frankenstein. “It was, after all, your brilliant idea that has saved us.”

Kazuhiko nodded, bowing to Frankenstein. “I would be honored to, sir.” He accepted a disk of data from Frankenstein's computer and started towards the elevator. The noise came back and everyone returned to their jobs, working towards the arena, final touches, and traps for the tributes. Kazuhiko stopped, standing at Kyoya's side. He knelt down, as if to tie his shoe, but muttered secrets to Kyoya.

“You never got such praise from your work, did you, Kyoya?” whispered Kazuhiko slyly. Kyoya flushed indignantly.

“Watch your mouth. In this setting, I am still your superior, and you will address me as 'sir' or 'Mr. Ootori' at all times! Don't get cocky just because you had one good idea!” he hissed under his breath. Kazuhiko gave a breathy laugh. “However, did I not state that I shall soon be stealing that position from you, sir?”

“I won't let that happen,” said Kyoya with gritted teeth. Kazuhiko laughed, standing up. He patted Kyoya on the back patronizingly.

“Well, good idea or not, I still rubbed your ignorance in your face. I will take that position and everything you've got—then we'll see which one of us deserves to be Father's heir.”

Kyoya was silent as Kazuhiko walked away, chuckling darkly to himself.