The Odds

'Zinefic Article: Quite The Career Trajectory

For a moment, I think one of the portraits from the Academy has come to life. Then she steps forward and the sunlight throws her features into sharp relief and the differences there become obvious. There's still the almost-blue-almost-grey Warwell eyes, but they're softer, brighter, and the jaw isn't as rigid as Alitha's. She looks young, sharp and I have absolutely no doubt she's cut from exactly the same steel plating her aunt was.

"Apollus." She inclines her head. I return the gesture. She smiles and extends a hand.

"My name is Carys. Carys Warwell, in case you don't know."

I shake her hand, slightly surprised at the strength of her grip. Strong and confident. I'll have to be very careful around her, I can tell already. She smiles, but it doesn't go all the way to her eyes.

"You must be wondering why you have been brought here?"

I look up at her, hating the fact that she's taller than me even without heels, and return the smile. "Well, yes, I am, rather! Not exactly usual procedure on a Wednesday afternoon, but I don't mind a bit of a change now and then, so..."

She looks around at the white walls and blank consoles, and her smile this time seems warmer, more genuine.

"Well, if it's change you're looking for, then I can help. Or rather, I'm rather hoping you'll help me."

That takes me by surprise. I keep my features carefully blank. Until I know what she has in mind, I cannot afford to give her the upper hand in any way. She already has me on the back foot enough with this mysterious summons and the fact that she knows what's going on here and I'm completely in the dark. Carys pulls out one of the chairs at the consoles and sits, gesturing for me to do the same. Trying not to seem too hesitant or too wary, I do. It's more comfortable than I'd have guessed.

"There's been a slight..." she hesitates, and the corner of her mouth twitches, "...adjustment, shall we say, to the next Games. And the ones hereafter, that means," she adds as an afterthought. I raise a questioning eyebrow and she goes on. "Certain parties have seen fit to shift responsibilities from where they have been held up until recently. Which means there's a new Gamemaking team."

"You." I state it bluntly as the pieces start to fall together. She nods.

"Yes, me. It's felt that the way things have been run in recent times has meant the Games don't mean what they used to. That's why we're here, in the old Gamemaking suite. You might say we're going back to how this all started."

"Back to how things were when your aunt was in charge, then?" It comes out snarkier than intended, and she flushes slightly.

"This has nothing to do with my aunt," she insists. Her eyes flash dangerously at me. "To be very clear, I am not my aunt. I'm here because I am the best person for this position." Her jaw juts up, determined, aggressive.

"Sorry, sorry! No offense intended." I hold up my hands - look, I'm no threat - and give her an easy smile. After a second her face relaxes. It's safe for me to speak again. "So, that all makes sense. The President's been redecorating his team again, and that's all well and good, but why am I here?"

She too leans forward, elbows on her knees, fingers steepled under her chin. Her gaze is calculating. I return it, unblinking, wondering. Does she want me to make the drinks? Fix the consoles when they go wrong? If she thinks that she's not so sharp as she looks; for all my less-than-shining past, I'm not good at doing the mucky jobs. And I don't know how to fix a console.

"I'd like to have you on my team."

There's a silence as I process that. My brain's a whirl of thoughts. How is that even possible? I'm a bad coin from an even worse background and no Gamemaker with any sense would so much as brush past me in the street. That's not just me being humble. I've got the letter to prove it.

I suppose there's always a chance nobody told her, so I swallow my confusion and say, "But...you must know I was declined a position in the official Gamemaking team..."

The memory still rankles; an irritation I thought was past. She nods, her eyes flicking down to a file on the desk beside her.

"Yes, I believe they said no and the reason given was you were felt to be 'too cruel'?" Her mouth twitches at the corners for a moment. I open my mouth to defend myself, and she cuts me off. "We're sending children into arenas to watch them kill each other. I think using cruelty as a disqualifier seems somewhat hypocritical, don't you?"

I hold my head up, ignoring my burning cheeks. "I prefer to think of myself as merely...more creative with my ideas. The ability to think outside the box shouldn't be considered a handicap."

She's smiling again, and this time it does reach her eyes.

"Quite. Which is why we're in a new box." She gives her console a few taps and shimmering holograms of files shoot into the air. My picture is on them. I'm younger and my hair is too long, but it's definitely me. I raise an eyebrow. Carys smiles. "I have your records from the Academy, and I have to say, I'm very impressed. Not at all bad for a boy from the Districts."

I prickle at the slightly mocking tone to her voice. "That was a long time ago. A different time, and I was a different boy then."

She smirks, and I realize she was prodding me. I kick myself for letting her draw me out like that. She's no fool, even if she is younger than me. I should have known that already.

"So why choose me? Out of the hundreds of options, why me?"

She meets my gaze evenly. "Because I believe you'll bring something to the Games that's been lacking up until now. I know what you're capable of. I think it's time the rest of Panem had the chance to see it too, don't you?"

There's a twisting knot of excitement forming in my chest. After all this time, after all that work, and all those disappointments, this is really happening. This is my chance to finally prove once and for all that I'm more than where I came from. This is my opportunity to shake off the shadow of the Districts once and for all. I'll best the best damned Gamemaker they'd ever seen. I give a laugh, and it's not even forced. I'm happy.

"If you're flattering me, you can keep going!" Too much? I don't care. She quirks an eyebrow at me, and I laugh again. "To hell with it all. Count me in!" I jump to my feet and stride over to her, hand outstretched. "Here's to a new era of Gamemaking" I say, and shake her hand, the excitement swirling through me in waves so strong I think I might fall over. She grins at my enthusiasm and stands, adjusting the folds of her tunic and glancing about the room. White on white, with hints of blue. It'll take some time to get used to.

I'm going to have to get used to it. There's a thrilling thought for you.

"I guess there's work to be done," Carys says, and I don't think she's talking about redecorating.

"May the odds be in our favour," I reply. She gives me an appraising look, as if wondering if she's made the right decision. Then...

"Quite," she says dryly. "Although I prefer to think this will work based on talent and skill, rather than luck, don't you?"

"Feh, semantics." I wave my hand dismissively, smirking at her. She gives me a stern look before turning back to survey the consoles that surround us. I bite back a shout of glee. Finally, my moment is coming. And I, Apollus Maven, for so many years a nothing and a nobody, very much intended to make the most of it.