Voices of the Dead: A Hunger Games FanFiction ©

2. Flint

Happiness could not describe just how I felt as our train hurdled toward the Capitol; no, it was more than that. Nothing could compare to the joy I felt at representing my district in this year’s Games. I struggled to find the appropriate word to properly portray my elation; could it be glee, bliss, jubilation, or euphoria.

As my father had said, so many times before, the games started from the moment you made your mind to volunteer; the rest that followed had to be a thoughtfully crafted plan. I’d taken every single word he’d said and applied it early on. From the moment I shook our district escorts hand to now, as I sat with a smile on my face, pretending to be deeply interested in what my mentor had to say.

Though I respected both our mentors, I didn’t necessarily care to hear what “tips of the trade” they had to offer. I’d heard it all before; whether from my father, uncles, teachers, friends, old videos, or books. Whatever they said, I’d already known. Still, to maintain appearances I sat carefully, plastering a look of deep interest on my features. I’d nod, smile, ask questions, and seem awed right on cue.

“Wow that’s amazing… No, I never thought of that… You’re so wise, I’m so glad you’re my mentor… Incredible, I never knew…How would I do that?” I’d say in my most sincere tone.

Of course the mentors were more than pleased to have me. I could tell they easily preferred my easy, agreeable nature rather than my district counterpart; a sour looking girl named Kori, who hadn’t spoken a word to anyone since she’d boarded the train. Whether it was her real personality or a ploy, I didn’t care; she was of no threat to me. She was just another kill.

I recalled my father’s words and, though I cared not for her approval or companionship, I maintained a civil manner; neither being overtly friendly, nor aggressive. While many districts had the silly notion that they should always partner with their district equal, I didn’t feel the same. If she was going to shame our district with her nasty personality and poor skills, it was best if I took her out and saved us the embarrassment of having her represent us.

Once we’d arrived at the Capitol, I graciously soaked in the citizens’ applause and admiration; using it to fuel me. I waved eagerly and even as we marched towards the Remake Center, I kept pumping my fist and gesturing at the crowd.

The whole beautification process wasn’t entirely horrible. Coming from a more civilized district such as two, I wasn’t in need of much improvement. My stylist was yet another person I had to bite my lip to avoid lashing out at; the overly animated man, Hues was his name, had been grating my nerves from the moment I’d met him.

Still, I sat and took whatever they threw at me with ease; smiling and pretending to be entirely fascinated with the idea of going as a Peacekeeper. Of course, there were modifications made to the original suit: rather than hide my face behind a mask, I was given pair of black, high-tech, polarized goggles, and instead of the stocky-looking suit they normally issued, I was given a form fitting leather ensemble. My body was clearly defined and, for only a moment, I was grateful to Hues and my prep team. I needed sponsors; whether they were ambitious men that gambled and based their opinions on scores, or desperate housewives that were eager to ogle and devour my body with their eyes. It didn’t matter to me, help was help.

As the time came to go to our chariots I quickly scanned the faces around me; already searching for those who could be worth something to me. Mostly, I realized in disgust, the majority of the other tributes were what I liked to call “meat”, as in; just a piece of flesh, there for me to gut, fillet, and ravage. There were few of worth.

Swallowing my pride, I spoke to the “meat” with an easy tone; making them believe I thought of them as actual beings rather than the livestock they were. I was more than thankful when I finally laid eyes on some suitable tributes.

Immediately, I was drawn to the boy from district five, Coriolanus was his name. He had a sinister smile and something about his overall personality gave the impression of a crazed person. Though I knew I’d never ally with him, as it was inconvenient to my plan, I liked him. He’d definitely be one to watch out for.

Similar to him, was the boy from district one; Bruno. Oddly enough, I felt that if you were to peel away all the layers he’d built to keep people from knowing his emotions, you’d find the same unhinged personality the boy from five had. What both of them probably didn’t realize was that their eyes gave them away; they shone coldly, without a hint of regret at the task before them, they were bloodthirsty beings. Alike, yet different. I liked Bruno, and figured he’d be a better ally than foe.

“I’m gonna’ go check out the competition,” I said amiably to Kori, not waiting for an answer before I walked away.

As I made my way to Bruno, I felt someone bump my shoulder with force. Though it’d probably been an accident, the animal in my heart wanted to rip apart whoever had dared touch me. Luckily, my mind knew better. Composing my face, I turned and grinned at the boy. “Careful pal, it’s crowded,” I said with a chuckle.

The blonde boy nodded and stepped back. “Sorry, didn’t see you there,” he apologized.

It was as I took all of him in that I felt the corners of my mouth lift in approval. The boy wasn’t as tall as me, but it was plainly visible that he was not to be ignored. He was strong; through his gaudy cowboy outfit, I could see a hard and powerful body, gaunt with well defined muscles, built through years of labor. So these games wouldn’t be as boring as I’d thought. I held out a hand, grinning, “It’s fine, no harm, no foul. I’m Flint from two.”

The boy smiled cautiously, shaking my hand quickly, “Macon, Macon Wells. I’m from district ten.”

I mentally added his name to my roster of tributes who I actually deemed worthy of fighting. If I had to, I’d more than willingly track him down specifically to battle to the end. “Nice to meet you, I definitely look forward to seeing more from you,” I said, then I jokingly tipped an imaginary hat in his direction and proceeded to my original goal; Bruno.

Even from a distance, I could feel Bruno’s suspicion as I approached him. Still smiling, I walked up and presented myself, “Hey there!”

“Hello,” he said after a moment, nodding at me.

“Nice suit! Wish I’d had your stylist, mine went a little overboard I think,” I said with a chuckle, pointing to my unique looking costume with an eyeroll.

He inspected me, “Looks fine to me, Peacekeeper is it?”

I chuckled, surprised he’d gotten the concept, and nodded, “Yep, sort of. They altered it a little so the people could see the goods,” I raised a brow and looked at him then, “Looks like your stylist had the same idea huh?”

 “Guess so,” he said with a shrug; appearing indifferent towards his skimpy attire.

I waited to see if he’d say more, but when I figured he was done talking I held out a hand, “I’m Flint by the way.”

Suspicion flit across his features, but he shook my hand anyway, “Bruno.”

 “I know that. I saw your reaping. I must say, you’re more impressive in person than the show gave you credit for,” I said, wondering how he’d react to flattery.

“Thanks, but I don’t need compliments,” he said, then turned to board his chariot. Apparently, he didn’t respond to that sort of stimuli. I wasn’t worried though, sooner or later I’d find what made him tick.

“Just being honest. Oh, before you go, I just wanted to let you know it’d be a real honor for me if you’d work by my side during these games,” I  said, barely able to hide my actual excitement, “We could put on a real good show. Imagine it, you, me, unleashed on these simpletons,” I studied his reaction; it was doubtful, “Well, just think about it, ok?” I said with a smile, still not worried; if he knew what was good for him, he’d join me sooner or later.

A bell chimed overhead and as soon as the district one chariot was out, our horses followed closely. The crowds cheered and went wild on the stands as they saw us appear. I raised my fists and pumped them vigorously. Fans threw flowers and women swooned, children snapped pictures and men shouted praise. It was glorious pandemonium. Their adoration fueled me and adrenaline shot through my veins. I laughed and cheered right back at them.

Did they know? Did they know they were witnessing the future victor of these Hunger Games?