The Capitol Games

3

JOHANNA

I huffed as the doors slammed. It wasn't my problem that the tribute couldn't take a little joke. When I was being marched off to my death—not once, but twice—I didn't cry about it.

The first time I won. I played by the rules. The second time, the Capitol went back on their word—and I got out again, but after, I destroyed them.

This would be the final string that would make everything the Capitol built crumble to the ground.

I exited the train car, nodding the guards to keep an eye out. I wanted all twenty-four of those kids in the arena in tip-top shape so they might survive more than a day. We didn't want the Games to be that big of a waste of time.

I walked through the abandoned streets of the Capitol. After the near-riots and all the people that had once screamed on them, they were bare of any life in favor of partying in buildings, getting drunk with old friends as their children were about to be sacrificed, and watching the reruns of the chariots on television sets.

I scratched the back of my head. I might shave it again. The hair was becoming a hassle.

I moved slyly through the guarded doors of a large skyscraper, and instead of taking the elevator up, I pressed the basement button and quickly descended down beneath the city.

"You assholes start without me?" I asked, stepping into the room.

A large round table sat in the middle. Haymitch's feet were currently thrown upon the wood. The rest of the victors sat around, chatting with each other on the most recent games. They were all chosen to mentor the Capitol kiddies. Except for Katniss, who sat close to Peeta, her eyes downcast.

Since the death of her sister, Prim, a smart girl who was capable enough, the girl on fire has been distant—like she had been walking through a dream.

It was her vote, which brought along Haymitch's as well, that made this whole beautiful thing possible. Of course, she only did it to avenge her sister's death, but that ended up being the late bitch President Coin's own work. By then, it was too late for Katniss to change her vote.

"Move over." I kicked her chair a little. She blinked as if just waking up, and scotched over so I could slide into the chair.

Haymitch had his jaws around a bottle of white wine.

"Save the rest of us some," I say, but it was mostly ignored by a wave of a hand.

"I deserve this. I've been dealing with some boy crying for the past hour."

"By dealing with, he means he just listened while telling him to shut up," Peeta said with a coy smile.

Peeta—the boy with the bread—one of Katniss's many boy toys and a personal friend of mine. Our cells were right next to each other in the Capitol and we could always share torture stories with each other. Ah—good times.

If only the same people who filled my room with water and shocked all the fight out of me were here to see the same happen to their beloved Capitol children.

"How's Snow doing? Crying like a baby?" I sneer.

Peeta shook his head, ignoring my jib. He volunteered in mentoring Adriana Snow—the one in the arena most were betting on death, not that it was much of a bet. I knew there was no way she'd get out of the Games alive—not if anyone in the nation had anything to say about it. Especially me.

"What about your own tribute?" Haymitch asked, swirling the bottom of his contents around the bottle. He wasn't as drunk yet as I thought. Or maybe his tolerance got so high he doesn't get drunk anymore. Not long ago he said he was going to quit. That obviously wasn't going well. "She looks like a fighter out there as if she was fresh out of District 2."