"Raptor, you absolute fool. You have got to stop doing this to yourself."
If he really was concussed, he'd think Berengar was his damn mother and not the bloke who struck him in the head in the first place.
Unfortunately for Raptor, his brain remains in the same place inside his skull it was two hours ago. Whether that's the right place is, of course, debatable.
"I didn't do anything to myself," he scoffs. The simple act of opening his mouth makes his head throb, but it's nothing he isn't used to. It's become a bi-monthly tradition that Raptor winds up in the Springridge Academy infirmary with some ridiculous injury, usually with Berengar f*cking Rhine there to play nurse.
Raptor would be bitter about it if it weren't for the fact their roles are reversed just as often.
"So your head was just there then?"
Berengar opens the aluminum freezer, grabs an ice pack, then wraps it in paper towels. With a grunt, he reaches up and hands it to Raptor on the examination table. "Tsk tsk, Raptor. What am I supposed to do with you?"
He takes the pack and presses it against the side of his face. It's an immediate relief, not that he'd admit it.
"I could've done this myself, you know."
"Sure you could've, but then you wouldn't be here for me to do this." Berengar digs into his pants pocket and pulls out a small spiral notebook with a pen clipped to the side. He flips through twenty or so pages then draws a single checkmark. "That's another point for me – means we're tied again."
f*cks sake, Raptor sighs. He and Berengar haven't been able to keep their hands off each other since they first met five years ago. They've engaged in physical spars approximately 534 times and recorded the results every time. The past two months, Raptor had been on a winning streak, but Berengar finally caught up.
It won't be for long though, no. Raptor already knows what went wrong today and the next chance he gets to fight Berengar, he'll turn this around. It's odd to think that after half a thousand fights, Raptor's still learning new things about his most favorite opponent, but it just goes to show that Berengar's the only one at Springridge actually suited to take him.
"When do you think we'll go at it again?"
There's three and a half weeks left before the Reaping which means five days until the Mock games. Surely there's time for the two of them to have a tussle before they're tossed into a fake arena with the rest of Two's best and brightest for a week to see who's best fit for the real thing.
"I say we save lucky number 535 for the end of mocks."
Of course Berengar wants to make this something of a spectacle. Classic.
"So then who am I going to fight before then, aside from the others in mocks?"
"Sounds like something for you to figure out by yourself."
Raptor's head throbs and he grunts, "f*ck…"
"Y'know, if I were you. I wouldn't fight anybody. Don't want you throwing away everything you've worked for at the last second."
"You make a fair point."
"Don't I always?"
"...Yes"
The most annoying thing about Berengar is how right he is a good 95% of the time. He knows Raptor just as well as Raptor knows him, for better or for worse. Berengar's always the person who holds him back when he's acting reckless –– he'd probably get injured far more often if it weren't for him.
"Rest up, Voinov. I'll see ya' in mocks."
No matter what, Raptor can't f*ck this up.
Everything he's worked for for the past decade lies in front of him starting tomorrow. If he makes one poor decision, it all means nothing. He'll be shipped off to the Peacekeepers or be confined to the quarry smashing rocks 'till his hands grow sore. Neither of those career paths are Raptor's style.
These days, Raptor's house is almost perfectly silent. He gets home at night after his mother's asleep and by the time he wakes up, she's left for work. It's not that Ylva Voinov's a bad person by any means. She's just… too rigid – not the type to put up with all Raptor's antics.
Prior to tonight, he can't remember the last time he had an actual conversation with her. From the moment she opened her mouth, Raptor wished it'd been even longer.
"So you promise you won't do anything dumb," she says, standing upright and straight despite the fact Raptor's slouching on the recliner. "Must I remind you of the importance of the next week?"
"No need." Raptor rolls his eyes. She says this sh*t all the time.
"Then tell me, what makes it important?"
"It's my chance to prove I'm ready for the Games."
"And?"
"If I am chosen for the Games, it shows that I am honorable and perfect, just as you want me to be."
"You say it like it's a bad thing."
"It's not, I promise." His tone of voice denies that. "I just… when you look at me, Mom? Do you really see a valorous Cadet ready to bring honor to all of Two?"
"I see potential. Granted, I was hoping the Academy would've straightened you out by now, but you still have potential."
"I've been within the top two kids in my class for three and a half years. I think my potential's already been met."
"Well, you know it's not the way I'd like it to be."
He doesn't get the big deal and never has. Why's she gotta be so hyper-fixated on Raptor being some rigid prep? If he's getting the same results that she wanted for him – being one of the top contenders for the Games – why does it matter how he does it?
"I'll be fine, Mom."
"I somehow doubt that. How many times have you gotten yourself hurt in the past month again?"
"Not enough times to take me out if that's what you're concerned about."
"You know who you sound like, right now."
Raptor does. Maybe it's because he has so few memories about him, but he doesn't see the big issue with acting like his dad. His Mom took him and ran away across the District to Crested Creek when he was so young, Arvid Vangarde's mostly shrouded in mystery. He's apparently a "stain" to the family and a "disgrace" to all that District Two stands for, but Ylva's never elaborated on why.
Aside from the way his dad wanted to abolish the training system, Raptor likes to think his own hostility makes him more like him than like his mother. If him and Mom never left, Raptor never would've enrolled in the Academy and discovered his love of fighting. But, at the same time, maybe he'd have a parent he can actually relate to.
"I'm sorry, Mom." He's never been sure if he actually is. Raptor loves his mom enough to want good things for her – he just doesn't want to be that good thing. No matter how hard he tries, he'll never be that good thing, so why bother trying in the first place?
"You're going to do great."
"I certainly hope so."
Maybe he should be more nervous, but he knows he's got this in the bag. He knows it'll be him and Berengar who earn Two's spots, and they'll have fight 535 in front of everybody to celebrate.
"Just try and get some sleep." His mom pivots and heads for her bedroom. "I love you."
No matter how often she says it, Raptor never knows if she means that last part.
"It's okay! It's okay! You can stop it now!" Cooper Peak Academy's Sena Ectorius writhes in Raptor's arms. Reluctantly, he swings her limp body and drops her on the hardwood floor.
Ever since three years ago when the heads of the Academy invented the Mock Games as their new selection process, the "arena" has been the same every time. They're sent up to the top of a mountain where they're able to traverse across an array of treetops and man made huts and treehouses. It's been five days now and Raptor's pretty sure almost everybody lost fights, couldn't find enough food or water, or just up and quit, effectively making them "dead" in this stimulation.
He much prefers how it used to be. They would just throw everybody in a gymnasium and have them fight for the Volunteer spots, so basically Raptor's dream. It all changed when Vito Zirensky went and killed five separate people during the fight, which wasn't explicitly disallowed until then. Killing somebody at the end of a fight is kind of boring in Raptor's opinion – doesn't leave room for a rematch. But, to each their own. Besides, after the hell he raised in the Games, Raptor has no choice butto respect Vito for being an absolute madman.
As Sena brushes herself off and heads toward the arena's "exit," the sound of a trumpet rings loud in Raptor's ears. He knows that sound – they played it for the past two years when only two people were left and the volunteers were decided.
He immediately wonders, Where's Berengar?
It's been a few days since the last time Raptor saw him, but they both agreed that once they were declared the volunteers, they'd meet back up for their 535th fight. Yes, it was never an if – Raptor knew it'd be the two of them that are sent to the Capitol.
A deep male voice sounds through the arena's speaker system, "We have reached our final two competitors, thus the Mock Games are officially concluded. The two individuals uphanding the glory and honor of District Two in the 99th Annual Hunger Games will be Raptor Voinov, a male from Springridge Academy and Berengar Rhine, also a male from Springridge Academy."
As the voice continues its announcements, Raptor begins to survey the area — Berengar has to be around here somewhere.
"In the event Mr. Voinov or Mr. Rhine cannot volunteer…"
Rustling leaves a few yards away from the hut is a dead giveaway.
"...Sena Ectorius, a female from Copper Peak Academy is our first replacement, followed by Saxon Hildebrand, a male from Raleburg Academy."
Gingerly, Raptor makes his way toward the bushes. As he gets closer, the rustling only gets more violent.
"We will now ask Mr. Voinov and Mr. Rhine to make their way outside the arena."
When Raptor's finally within arm's reach of the bush, a beefy arm sticks out the side of it. Yet another instance of Berengar trying to make everything into a spectacle.
"Keep up the dramatics and they'll send you straight to One," Raptor sneers.
Berengar sticks out another arm then pops his head up. "But then who would be around to put you in your place?"
"You've done enough of that for a lifetime, trust me."
Entirely freeing himself from the bush, Berengar grabs his (purposely not real) longsword and rises to his feet. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and sighs.
"I was getting awfully tired of waiting for you. I thought for a second that girl had you beat."
"Please. She was hardly a worthy opponent – couldn't even hold her ax properly after I hit her in the stomach."
"Let's see if you can do any better after I do this!"
Berengar lunges, his sword swinging toward Raptor's torso.
Of course he's starting like this – guess you can't teach an old dog new tricks afterall. Raptor darts to the side then ducks, carefully gripping the handles of his (also purposely not real) brass knuckles. He slams his left fist against Berengar's chest, a slight smile forming on his face as the other boy flinches.
"Mr. Voinov, Mr. Rhine, please make your way outside the arena."
The voice just riles Raptor up further. He knocks his left fist at Berengar's jaw then quickly retreats backward before he can counter.
"What's the matter? Afraid that if I get too close to you, I might bite?"
"You wish!"
Raptor presses his two fists together then aims for Berengar's nose. His feet begin to slip, so he maneuvers his body weight backward to prevent himself from falling.
In that moment, Berengar spins his sword and thrusts it against Raptor's collarbone. The blunt force stings a bit, but that pain just inspires him to keep on going.
He charges toward Berengar once more, curling his left hand around his shoulder and beginning to force him downward.
"Please make your way outside the arena."
"Not now," Berengar shouts. "We're trying to practice for the Games. Give us a few more minutes!"
He juts his right foot at Raptor's thigh then attempts to tear himself away. He clenches his jaw then wraps his other hand around Berengar's other shoulder and pushes him backward.
"I don't think we'll need that much longer." Raptor moves one hand to the collar of Berengar's shirt, twisting the fabric while he shakes him like he's a rag doll.
Out of the corner of his eye, Raptor notices Berengar's sword heading for his temple. He ducks, then kicks the other boy's left kneecap, making him wobble.
Berengar lunges forward, but it just gives Raptor the opportunity to let go of his shirt and drive his fist below his eye.
"Bitch," Berengar groans, moving one hand to the injury site.
"Boys. This is your final warning before we endorse Ms. Ectorius and Mr. Hildebrand instead."
Raptor smiles, punches Berengar square in the stomach, then chuckles as he falls to the ground.
He runs toward the arena's exit, already too far away by the time Berengar stands up and tries to follow him. As he makes his way toward two tall trees with a red banner spanning across them, he takes what feels like his first deep breath in five days.
A trainer – Raptor's not too sure where from – hands him a bottle of water and a cold towel. He plops down against a folding chair, holds the towel to his head, and watches as Berengar sprints through the woods in hot pursuit.
When he finally catches up, Raptor shakes his head and sighs. "How kind of my own District partner to join me."
"How kind of my own District partner to leave me to die in the forest all by myself."
"Apologies, I was just testing you so I could be sure I actually have somebody competent going into the Games with me."
"For the love of District Two, you're so full of yourself."
"That's the exact kind of deflection I expect from somebody who's lost to me 268 times."
"You're a bitch."
"Takes one to know one."
A few minutes pass in silence as people begin to crowd around the boys. They've got an assortment of expressions on their face from fear to jealousy to endearment, but the common shared trait is respect.
"Y'know, Raptor?" Berengar's tone is a lot softer than usual. "I'm glad that it's the two of us going in there together."
"I am too. Anybody else just wouldn't make sense."
"You and I against the world, huh?"
"You and I against the world until it's you and I against each other."
Raptor takes the other boy's hand and shakes it firmly. In that moment, there's no place else he'd rather be.
It's been three days yet Raptor's left wrist still hurts like a bitch. He heard the rumors – District Two brands their designated volunteers like cattle so nobody can try to pull some sh*t at the Reaping Ceremony – but it seemed more like a fable than anything real.
It is real, though. Three days ago Raptor was brought into the District Two Academy Programming Headquarters alongside Berengar and the two replacements and had to clench his teeth when the hot metal burned into his skin, revealing an elaborate seal with the number "99" inlaid in the center.
Between the branding and the stage right in front of him, it's finally sunk in that what's up ahead is a huge f*cking deal. Like, Raptor knew the Games were going to be the spectacle to end all spectacles, but now that it's confirmed he's front and center for all of it, it seems more massive than ever before.
He'd like to think everything he's ever wanted is right in front of him, but he knows that'd only be the case if he was the perfect son his mom tried to mold him into. Still, he'd never back down from a challenge.
In less than an hour, he'll leave District Two for a couple of weeks. When he returns, he'll either be covered in gold or resting in a coffin. But who's Raptor kidding? It'll obviously be the former. The Games are just one big fight when push comes to shove, and fighting is what he does best.
(It hasn't quite occurred to him that if he returns to Two a champion, Berengar's casket will be right beside him. What's he supposed to do in that situation?)
tit* Tickles has yet to end her frivolous ranting on how it's "oh-so-special" that all the reaping-age kids in Two have "once again gathered to celebrate the glorious country of Panem." In stark contrast is Mayor Sentinel Pershing beside them, the stoic expression on her face masking what wants to be laughter.
Behind them are all Two's living Victors. The fact there's only five of them saddens Raptor. Prior to the war back in '75, Two had twelve other victors. Two of them kicked the bucket from natural causes, then the tides of war took out the other ten.
What's worse is that District One's taken home six victors since the war compared to Two's measly four. They were supposed to be the titans of Panem, yet they've now fallen so low. Is Raptor really enough to get them back on track? Well, yeah… obviously.
"And now for the moment you've all been waiting for…" tit* announces and Raptor snaps back to consciousness.
He and Berengar flipped a coin earlier this morning and it was decided that Raptor would raise his hand and volunteer first. When Two picks people of different genders to volunteer in a given year, they abide by the age old rule of ladies first. When it's two boys or two girls, they sort of just tell them "figure it out."
tit* swirls her hand inside the reaping bowl, draws a slip of paper, then takes a deep breath. "Our first Tribute for this here 99th Annual Hunger Games will be… Janissary Harlow!"
Whoever Janissary Harlow is, they don't even move from wherever they're sitting. Everybody knows what's coming next – Raptor raises his hand and shouts, "I volunteer!"
The people beside him scoot back in their chairs as Raptor makes his way down the bleachers and onto the stage. He extends his hand to tit* and Sentinel, the latter checking the branding on his wrist and smiling.
"I cannot believe it," tit* says in a way that indicates they very much can believe it. "We have a volunteer! What's your name, young man?"
Raptor pivots so he's facing the coliseum's roaring audience and runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm Raptor Voinov and it's a complete honor to stand here in front of everybody, armed and ready to bring glory to the sacred land of District Two."
"Well Raptor…" tit* shakes their head. "I hope you're not actually armed because that would be illegal. Unless of course… you mean your ferocious beak as you get ready to swoop down and prey on your opponents."
Right. Like the bird. Raptor totally hasn't heard that one before. "Yes, Mx. Tickles, it was an expression."
"Please, just call me tit*."
They reach back into the bowl then grab another slip. Another deep breath, then, "Our second Tribute for this here 99th Annual Hunger Games will be… Ligmus Ballius!"
Again, nobody bothers to scramble from their seat and run to the stage – at least, not Ligmus. Berengar on the other hand… Raptor puts his hands over his face and sighs. Now what in the bloody hell is he doing now?
He watches as Berengar frantically taps the two boys next to him then points upwards. They each take one of his legs and hoist him into the air, Berengar resting comfortably on their shoulders. The people around them clap as he's carried over to the front and plopped directly on the stage.
Raptor sighs. When Berengar suggested he make other friends instead of fighting everybody he sees, he wasn't imagining this as the other boy's rationale. As he shakes Sentinel's hand and bows at the audience, all Raptor can do is drop his jaw and roll his eyes.
"Another volunteer, how exciting!" tit* actually does sound excited this time. "What should we call you, handsome?"
"My name is Berengar Rhine, but my friends just call me Berengar." He puffs his chest out and flexes a muscle. "I am proud to be representing District Two this year – it's truly a privilege."
It's an even bigger privilege that I haven't punched you in the face by now.
"Wow," tit* enthuses. "This year is sure to be one for the books, don't you think?"
The audience rises to their feet and claps. Raptor wonders if it's more for him or for Berengar.
(He knows it's not for him. As long as Berengar's alive, it'll never be for him.)
"Now boys, why don't you shake hands so we can get on our way?"
Raptor reaches out and shakes Berengar's hands like he's a robot. When their eyes meet, he notices a look on the other boy's face that says, "You really thought this wasn't a competition?"
"Please, I was just giving you the lead," Raptor's eyes say back. "We both know this will end the same way mocks did."
"Excellent!" tit* clasps their hands together and kicks a leg behind them. "District Two, give it up once more for Raptor Voinov and Berengar Rhine!"
To call the train ride overwhelming would be a complete understatement. Being around Berengar is already damn exhausting, but it's a hundred times worse when there's six more people breathing down your throats.
Raptor just wanted to sit back on the nicest chair he's ever seen and drink out of his tiny teacup on a tiny plate but nope! Everybody here has decided that he and Berengar are their personal problems. The concept of mentors has always been weird to Raptor. He's seen everyone here around the Academy before at least a few times. If they had any "life-altering wisdom," they could've given it then.
It's ridiculous – Raptor spends an entire decade of his life working his ass off to get here only for these hasbeens to act like they know better. They haven't been faced with the Games in years for f*cks sake!
For now, being paired with Vito seems fine at least. Across the car, Madena Hirato from the 93rd Games is yapping her ear off at Berengar, scorning him for placing a giant target on his back at the reaping. Raptor never even thought of his stunt like that – he just thought it was annoying.
(A part of Raptor's concerned, now. If other people try to fight Berengar, there's a chance he dies before they're able to have their final battle.
An automatic victory because Berengar is dead and has to forfeit hardly feels like a win at all.)
"Are you happy I didn't make a scene like that?" Raptor asks Vito, still slouching so far back on his chair he might as well sink.
The victor sighs and scratches his head. "I think Mr. Rhine definitely showed he has personality."
"So you think I didn't?"
"Raptor, I didn't say that."
"You think I'm just another brute, don't you? Sorry, I didn't realize that growing up means you're above all that now."
"I didn't say that. You asked for my thoughts, so I'm giving them to you."
"Well yeah, but I was hoping they'd come with some of that legendary advice you're supposed to be providing me with."
"I would've given you some, but you then chose to interrupt me."
"I'm not interrupting you now. What do you have to say?"
"..."
Oddly enough, Raptor wishes he was talking to Berengar instead. At least the other boy would fire back instead of trying to act all sanctimonious like Vito. For somebody metal enough to kill their own brother, Raptor expected more.
Finally, the mentor says, "Just… trust the process. Okay kid?"
Kid? Rich coming from somebody only four years older than him. But that's not the hill Raptor's going to die on, at least not today.
"What do you suggest I do at dinner tonight?" He asks. Because Two's so close to the Capitol – same goes for the other Districts with Academies – they'll be at the Capitol the day before everyone else. Thus, it's become a tradition that the Capitol throws an "Early Arrivals" dinner. Of course, they don't act like it's exclusive to trained kids, but the trained kids are always the only early Arrivals so…
"Try not to put everything out there at once, if you get what I mean."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't…" Vito shakes his head decisively. "How you acted with me a few seconds ago. Don't act like that when you're meeting everyone for the first time."
"You think I can't control myself?" Raptor sneers. "I throw an ounce of a tantrum and all the sudden I'm a baby to you?"
"There you go, proving my point."
"Well, you're my mentor. You have to accept all of me, even the bad parts. I know the other trained kids won't be like that, so I'll be on my best behavior, whatever that means to you."
"Good; it'll only benefit you in the long run."
Raptor hears a loud cackle from the other side of the car. "Two's sake, Raptor – you already have your mentor lecturing you like you're five years old. I thought it'd at least take a few days to get to this point."
"Shut up, Berengar. I heard Madena verbally beating the sh*t out of you thirty seconds ago."
"You think that's what she was doing? Bitch, please! She was complimenting me because I actually know how to put on a show instead of brooding like some emo sh*thead."
"The only thing you put on was a massive target on your back that says 'Please Kill Me! I'm A Stupid Loser!'"
Berengar backs off after that one, thankfully. Vito on the other hand again looks incredibly disappointed.
"What?" Raptor shrugs. "He started it!"
Vito sighs, gets out of his chair, and approaches the council of the other victors lying on the couch. He taps the one and only Enobaria Lynx – who's visited Springridge more than a few times this year – on the shoulder, and points to Raptor and Berengar.
"Do they always fight like this?" Vito asks. "I'm nervous… I've never had two kids who hate each other before."
"Oh, they don't hate each other." Enobaria chuckles, a narrow grin forming on their lips. "Raptor and Berengar are actually good friends, trust me."
"Are you sure about that?" Madena shouts. "Last I checked, you don't even know how a dentist and her client talk to each other."
"Last I checked, your girlfriend still hasn't proposed and you're stuck sharing a last name with your dearly departed domestic terrorist sibling!"
"Don't say that about her!"
"I don't mean it in a bad way. At least Kiki was actually fun to be around."
"I'm plenty fun."
"Hear that?" Berengar walks over to Raptor and whispers while Madena and Enobaria continue to bicker. "Enobaria thinks we're friends."
"They clearly have no idea what they're talking about," Raptor mumbles. "Since when have we been friends?"
"I think I know… What was it? Five years ago? You were sprawled out on the gym mat, whining to yourself about how much you hated training –"
"I hated it then!"
"Right. And who was it that showed you how to love training?"
"Some bumbling idiot who beat my ass then decided he wants to do it again at least once a week."
"For the record, it wasn't just your ass. I'm pretty sure you broke your nose."
"I didn't–"
"So this is actually your voice? People can naturally sound that nasally?"
"Didn't realize you have a problem with my voice considering how often you provoke me to use it!"
"Boys." Enobaria pulls herself off the couch and snaps. It's incredible how she can turn from carefree to intimidating in less than a second.
"Y-yes?" Raptor stammers.
Enobaria rolls her eyes. "Would you like to keep yapping like baby birds who lost their mommies or are you ready to watch the reaping recap now?"
"I'm r-ready." Berengar gulps.
He has been acting a bit off today though he can't place his finger as to why. Did he just… wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, or? Raptor'd like to think that he has a better grip on himself most of the time.
(How is one supposed to control themself when they're throwing themself into a death match yet the mother they're doing it for couldn't even be bothered to show up and say goodbye?)
"That's what I thought." Enobaria presses a button on her watch and a screen rolls down from the ceiling along with a projector. She presses another button and a video begins to play.
Before the first second passes, Raptor's already made up his mind on the first two Tributes – those from District One. They're insufferable, and he wants to fight them both before even seeing them.
Their first representative quickly proves him right. Catharsis Castello – what kind of a name is that? – saunters onto the stage with overly-conceited swagger. Their dark curly, hair is cut into a shaggy mullet and their posture is clinically upright.
"They seem like a troublemaker," Madena is quick to point out. "Nobody stands that straight unironically."
"Either that or they have a stick up their ass," Berengar rebuts.
"Having a stick up your ass and having a mullet seem like mutually exclusive properties," Raptor says. "I'd know because neither of us have mullets."
"You seem to be forgetting when you were fourteen and–"
"None of us have mullets now."
The smile on Catharsis' face turns sinister as they shake their escort's hand — Madena was right, they're planning some sh*t.
But, as much as Raptor wants to harp on Catharsis' ridiculous nature, it doesn't compare to that of the next Tribute – Eirian Velvedere.
Hulking over everybody else in the stands, the One boy makes his way up to the stage with wide eyes and a cheery smile. When he reaches One's Mayor and Escort, he politely bows, then kicks his leg back and shakes both their hands at once.
"My guy's massive," Berengar remarks. "Look at him; he's got to be at least 6'5!"
"Why are you phrasing it like that?" Raptor raises a brow. "You think you can't take him?"
"I can!"
"You'd bet I can."
"So was I just your warm-up then?"
Vito sighs. "Guys, don't talk about wanting to fight Eirian without having actually met him. He actually looks like he could be nice."
"It must be a trap." Berengar sneers. "Nobody looks like that and is also a decent human being!"
"I'm going to have to agree with Vito on this one," Enobaria says, now laid out across their couch like she's a tiger or some sh*t. "As dramatic as some Ones are, the District seems to have a thing for breeding unnaturally kind people."
That just makes Raptor despise Eirian even more. If you want to make it in Two, you have no choice but to be brutal. Kindness is weakness and weakness needs to be straightened-out at a Peacekeeper Training Center. It's not fair that the kids in One can afford to succeed while holding onto their morals.
Enobaria thankfully skips past District Two's reaping – the last thing Raptor wants to see is Berengar's nonsense from a different angle. That means it's onto District Three, which makes him clench his jaw a bit.
He's been told time and time again that Three isn't to be trusted. Their Academy's hardly been around two decades yet it already has the reputation of creating actual human monsters. Even if their kids act like valuable assets to the Pack at first – they're massive nerds which can be helpful at times – there's always something off about them that's revealed in the arena.
It doesn't help that last year, the girls from Three made quite the negative impression in the Games. Vanya Zborovsky and Eden Sorrenti turned the alliance against each other just a few days into the Games, then picked off those who couldn't adapt outside of a large group. When some scrawny kid from Six killed Eden, Vanya went even further off the rails. The next two days were a complete blur, but they ended with Vanya being crowned on stage, paying little mind to the nine people who died at her hands.
It seems that this year's Selah Alkane is quick to follow in her footsteps. Unlike Vanya, she doesn't even try to feign kindness, instead walking up to the stage like a robot, her husky low voice sounding blatantly unhuman as she says, "Three, I look forward to seeing you soon."
"The good thing is, she can't be worse than Vanya," Vito says. "Like, I don't think that's physically possible."
"That sounds like a challenge for me," Raptor chides, but for once he doesn't mean it. He recalls Vanya strapping another Tribute to a campfire and cackling as they slowly burned. He doesn't see the fun in that – there wasn't even a fight, it just… happened.
"It better not be," Berengar says. "Do you know how embarrassing that'd be for me?"
"You really think I'd go off the walls like her?"
"I don't think you're patient enough."
"Raptor, please don't joke about that," Enobaria says. "The last thing Two needs is a maniac."
Rich coming from somebody who ripped open people's necks with her own teeth, but Raptor knows better than to say that.
Even though Amaro Yukawa seems less uptight than Selah, that's not really saying much. He still looks obnoxiously full of himself as they smile. Maybe he won't be as cunning as his District Partner, but there's something up with him for sure.
"Ah yes," Madena says once Amaro introduces themself on screen. "He's the child of Empericus Yukawa."
"Who's that?" Raptor's only vaguely heard the name before.
"Famous academic and Vice President of Three's Academy. In other words, the most blatant nepotism baby there ever was."
"You think their father got him selected?" Berengar asks.
"Oh, a hundred percent. I'm not saying you shouldn't worry about him, but I have a hard time believing they're really one of the top two kids in their class."
"I'd take that with a grain of salt," Vito says.
Fair enough – it's no secret Madena's convinced that the only reason their little sibling from Five died two years ago is because they're related. That's not to say that she's happy with that – in fact, it's the opposite. When Akira Hirato wrecked complete and utter havoc on that arena, it made Madena look terrible, as did the fact that they saw every public appearance as an opportunity to sh*t on her. Still, the two of them are siblings and it's far more complicated than Raptor will ever understand.
It's hard to expect much from Four when their Academy is quite literally called the C.R.A.P and their volunteers are selected in a peer election. Doesn't help that the place also started off as an after-school daycare. Four did have a proper Academy years ago, but its nature is often kept hush.
Still, they've managed to win five times since the war, even if two of those victories came from the founder of the Academy's nephews. Regardless, their Tributes always last a long while – they've placed a bigger emphasis on survival than on weaponry.
Their first Tribute, Ilara Benthos, seems like quite the charmer. As she walks up to the stage, there's this sickening sunlight in each of her steps. Even though she's eighteen just like everybody else so far, she seems so incredibly naive. Again, that's common in Four.
"She's in for quite the reality check," Raptor remarks. Innocent kids like her never make it that far. "Probably was only chosen because she's too damn nice to the other kids, they'd feel bad not choosing her."
"Yeah, you've hit the nail right on the head with that one," Vito says. "I'm not sure how long she'll last. Four's living victors all had a bit of grit to them."
That's his nice way of saying that they all lost their sh*t in a convenient enough way that they didn't die in the process. None of them have been as scary as Vanya, but the behavior they exhibited was definitely not in line with a District that's supposed to be all about the ocean and the sand.
Their other Tribute, Circe Rongomai, admittedly does have the "grit" Vito was referring to, at least at face value. That is to say, she doesn't seem happy to be here in the slightest. But, when they walk up to Ilara and grab her hand, it all begins to click.
"Okay yeah," Raptor scoffs. "They're both screwed."
Having a lover in the Games with you is the easiest way to ensure your death. He's seen his fair share of romances over the years, and most of them ended poorly. From the antiquated video of Four's Robin Verrillo-Santana killing their own girlfriend to Three's Credence Voltaire falling for a boy from Thirteen and becoming a husk of a man once he was gone a few years ago, even victors who opted for romance in the arena came out of it scarred. The recent example of Vanya and Eden only gives these relationships an even worse reputation.
"More like they're both screwing each other," Enobaria comments – Raptor's too afraid to laugh, even if it's funny.
"I don't know if they'll be too social outside of each other," Vito says. "I worry they'll split off from the rest of you guys pretty early on."
"I don't think it'll be in a sinister way, like Vanya and Eden, though," Madena adds. "They just already seem to be existing in their own little world."
"It's kind of sweet," Berengar admits for some f*cking reason.
"It's deadly," Raptor says. "Bet they won't even be too much fun to fight afterwards."
"Yeah, they'll probably be concerned with spending their last moments with each other instead of playing offense."
"You say that like it's a good thing, Berengar. I don't understand why they went into the Games together, but I guess that's just the luck of Four's draw."
"I mean, we're friends and we're going to the Games together."
"That's not the same," Raptor says. "There was no chance of it being anything but the two of us. Like, it just makes sense."
"Fair enough…"
(He doesn't want to think about how it'll end with them. If they do arrange for their "final fight," is the winner really supposed to kill the loser? As much as Raptor hates to admit it, he doesn't think he could do that to him.)
(At the same time, if somebody has to take Raptor out, he'd rather it be Berengar than anybody else. He wonders if the other boy feels the same.)
The other nine Districts fly by without much commotion. Like years past, a few of them make a decent impression, specifically a boy from Six and somebody from Twelve, but Raptor's already sure he can make both of them crumble.
Ultimately, he'll probably be able to kill any of the outliers – it's just a matter of what happens between him and the other trained kids before it gets to that point.
(And if it does and Berengar's gone, will Raptor even feel like moving on?)
The entryway to the Capitol's banquet hall is already the nicest room Raptor's ever been in. This day already feels like it's been going on forever, but the hanging lamps and elegant wallpaper somehow make him less exhausted.
Even the floors are nicer than anything in Two. The pointed leather shoes Raptor was given on the train make a satisfying clack on the ground with every step. He's never been one for fashion, but there's no denying his black linen pants paired with a maroon turtleneck sweater make him feel far more comfortable than his stiff navy suit and button up shirt from the reaping did.
For the first time today, Raptor feels entirely secure. He feels like he actually belongs here.
Madena and Berengar have already wandered inside, which means it's just him and Vito. The victor also seems less uptight than when he was on the train, a gentle smile painted on his face. It's that smile that makes it for a moment, hard to believe that the person standing next to him is the same Vito that killed so many people.
(Raptor wonders if people ever look at him and think there's more to him than the brute who sends people to the infirmary every week. He wonders if anything more to him even exists in the first place.)
"I promise, tonight's going to be fun," Vito says. "I know I was harsh on the train, but this was my favorite part of being in the Capitol during my Games."
"You weren't tired?"
"I was, but trust me, there's nothing like taking your first bite of food in the Capitol. Everyone seems to be a bit more laid-back too. It's a good way to get on an even playing field with your future allies."
"What if I hate them?" Joke's on Vito. Raptor already does.
"It's unlikely you'll hate them all. You already saw them on video – they don't all look like they're terrible people."
"They could be lying! I still don't trust what you said about the boy from One. There's something off about him, I just know it."
Vito chuckles. "I guess One is known for producing some of the biggest characters in the Games. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't give him a shot. Be careful, obviously, but don't count somebody out who you haven't even met."
"Does that go with everybody here?"
"For now, I'd say so. You still have four full days before the Games start – that's plenty of time for your opinions to change."
"I just don't trust Eirian," Raptor repeats. "I can't put my finger on it, but I don't."
(It's because Eirian's everything Raptor isn't, right? He gets to be deadly and kind at the same time, all while people adore him. He's taller and stronger than Raptor too – is that meant to be a reward from the universe for being so loveable? Raptor's almost certain he's worked harder than Eirian to get to this point, so why is it that he hardly gets anything?)
"I'll talk to his mentor a bit and try to get a better understanding of what he's like. How does that sound?"
"Fine." Raptor sees no reason why Eirian's mentor would be truthful in the first place. Somebody from One has better things to do than do anything that resembles helping the District they once were inferior to.
An Avox opens the door to the banquet hall once Vito and Raptor approach. They step into a somewhat dimly-lit room with lights resembling candles strung along the ceiling. One side of the room is lined with golden buffet stations and the other has a bar. In the center of the room, there's a long wooden table decorated with flowers and candles with enough seats for what has to be at least thirty people, each of them marked by what looks like a name card.
The room's already filled with people, different groups sequestered in clumps and talking. Raptor can only imagine how uncomfortable this must be for the victors – all of them forced to play nice with their competition under the Capitol's watchful eye. Raptor finds it just as daunting, but it's a challenge he's ready to face.
After taking no less than five steps inside the room, Vito turns around and brushes his shoulder against a blonde man a hair shorter than him. Raptor immediately recognizes him — Jules Vaudry, District One.
He must be Eirian's mentor. Good. Vito's already evaluating the enemy, just like I told him.
What Raptor did not tell his mentor to do was cup Jules' face in his hand and kiss him on the cheek. Why was Vito so seemingly understanding of Raptor's concerns with District One not even a minute ago only to do this?
"Who's this?" Raptor snorts, loud enough that his mentor can hear him.
"Oh… right!" Vito fumbles a bit. "Jules, this is my mentee, Raptor."
The blonde extends his hand — funny of him to think Raptor wants anything to do with it.
"And Raptor, this is Jules. He's my boyf—"
"His fiancé," Jules corrects him. "Vito keeps forgetting even though he's the one who proposed."
"I didn't—"
"Well, I know you're going to soon, right?"
"Mmhmm," Vito hums as Jules struts off.
Not bothering to check if he's in earshot, Raptor grunts. "So, what the f*ck was that about?"
"Jules?"
"What happened to being on my side about District One. You didn't even talk to him about Eirian?"
"Well… a lot of us victors don't really care about cross-District politics as much as you'd think," Vito explains. "A lot of us are friends, actually – it's not just Jules and I. Don't worry, I'll talk to him about Eirian after dinner."
Raptor somehow now finds it even harder to believe that Jules will tell the truth, much less that Vito's actually going to ask him in the first place. It's weird they're dating at all. Districts aside, Vito started off nice during his time in the Games but gradually turned into a monster while with Jules, it was the exact opposite.
Whatever. Raptor doesn't really care.
"Tó!" Not even a minute passes before him and Vito are again faced with Jules. This time, there's a large figure standing behind him that Raptor recognizes immediately. "You introduced me to Raptor, so it's only fair I introduce you to my mentee!"
"What a great idea!" Vito clenches his jaw then winks at Raptor. He whispers, his voice hoarse, "try to be nice, please."
"This is Eiran!" He has that same smile he had at the reaping and Raptor wants so badly to smack it right off his face. Craning his neck backward just to make eye-contact with the One boy makes him wince. How is this his life right now?
"Nice to meet you, Eirian," Vito says. "Next to me is my mentee, Raptor!"
"Oh, I know who he is," Eirian says. His voice is less deep than what Raptor was expecting, and like everything else about him, it gives off the impression that he's friendly. It gives off the impression that he can't be trusted. "I don't mean that in a creepy way – I took notes of everybody's names when I watched the recap so I wouldn't forget."
"That's a smart idea; I'll bet your mentor didn't come up with it." Vito laughs, but nobody else does.
"You know I came up with it," Jules deadpans. "How dare you imply otherwise."
"Right – Panem forbid I try and give the kid some credit." Vito turns his head and again he whispers. "Raptor, don't just stand there – say something to him!"
"What a novel idea," he drawls. "Next time, I recommend giving Jules credit. Otherwise, it's rude."
"Is it?" Eirian co*cks his head to the side. "I mean, maybe I'm missing something but I didn't see a reason for me to say this was Jules' idea. I was just offering an anecdote for this conversation."
"You're doing fine," Jules tells him.
"Alright. If he insists." Raptor crosses his arms.
"This isn't what we should be talking about," Eirian says. "Tell me, Raptor – I haven't met Berengar yet so I haven't been able to ask him first. What's it like living in District Two?"
"Decently pleasant. I enjoy that despite my training, the District's vast economic diversity has allowed me to live life outside a bubble."
"Ah, you don't really get much of that in One. At least, most people don't – I guess being a scholarship kid has its perks sometimes."
f*ck. Of course Eirian isn't insanely wealthy like the average kid from One so Raptor can't even use affluence as a reason to hate him. It'd be rude of him to say that Eirian is pretending to be nice because the money's the only thing about the Games that's important to him considering how average he and his mom's place is. If the academies weren't free, Raptor would've been forced to work instead of attend.
"...I didn't know One has a scholarship program."
"Yeah, unfortunately most of us don't make it to the stage where we can actually volunteer. Because I got so lucky, I'm going to try to do my best to show the Academy that us scholarship kids have a fair shot at the Games too!" Eirian claps his hands together like he's some movie character. "And, if I do win, it'd be really nice knowing my older sister doesn't have to raise the kid she's pregnant with hardly a dollar to her name."
"What did I say about oversharing?" Jules raises a brow.
"Right. So, Raptor… what brings you to the Games?"
"I intend to make District Two proud of me and bring them the glory they deserve."
"Yeah, yeah – that's what everybody says. Beyond that, why are you here?"
Is it bad that Raptor doesn't necessarily know? He'd be lying if he said it's to erase the "stain" his dad left on the family and appease his mom. Truly, Raptor Voinov's here for himself. He's here to fight in Panem's largest boxing ring and come out a learned champion. He's here to show that he's not the average Two brute that lets his light dim; he's better than all of them as well as anybody else.
"Maybe I shouldn't have asked that," Eirian mumbles. "We can talk about something else instead! Have you met anybody else tonight?"
"If you don't count my District partner, then no."
As if on cue, Berengar springs up by Raptor's side. "Mind if I join the conversation?"
"I can't exactly say no now."
"Hey Berengar," Eirian beams. "I'm Eirian! How's it going? I think Raptor was about to start talking about you – isn't this funny?"
"Hilarious," Berengar replies. "I can only imagine Raptor would have only the kindest of things to say about me."
Raptor turns around in search of Vito, hoping he'll have something to say that puts an end to this. However, the mentor's nowhere to be found in his direct vicinity. It's like he was planning to do this hit and run to force him and Eirian together.
"Probably, but he'd be embarrassed to say them now I imagine. So, did you meet anybody else?"
"Yeah, I checked out Selah. She's definitely…" Berengar points at his head with a swirling motion. "Interesting, for sure."
"Huh, I didn't get that read on her," Eirian says. Of course he didn't – he probably treated her with this exact same brand of fake-nice bullsh*t. "She was a bit cold to me, but my partner Catharsis seemed to get at least a few laughs out of her."
Raptor cranes his neck to the side to see Selah, now reunited with Catharsis. She has a glass of what looks like white wine in her hand and a serious expression on her face while Catharsis gulps down a bottle of what's probably beer and cackles.
"What about you, Eirian?" Raptor asks. "Besides Selah, did you meet anybody else?"
"Tch, of course I did. I've actually spoken to everybody else – you two were last on my agenda."
"Any insights?" If Eirian's not going to drop this act of his, Raptor might as well try to get something out of it.
"Well, Catharsis is a ton of fun, and that's not just me being biased because District One. Amaro is hilarious, but in a completely different way." Eirian scans the room for the Three kid and eventually finds them trying to talk to the Fours. He waves his hand and Amaro waves back while the Fours don't budge. "Ilara and Circe are clinging onto each other right now, but that can't last forever, right?"
Perfect. Everybody's so far behaving almost exactly how Raptor's mentors theorized. It's interesting seeing Amaro interact with the Fours, though. At least they don't seem incredibly receptive.
"You think they'd argue with each other?"
"Oh no, that's not what I'm saying. It's just a matter of time before they decide to befriend the rest of us!"
The more Eirian speaks, the more Raptor finds him unbelievable. A feeling sinks deep into his stomach – a mix of astonishment and anger because he's either being played like a goddamn fiddle right now or it truly isn't that deep the way Vito suggested.
He's not sure what he'd prefer but maybe it'd be nice to have more than one friend, even if it's in a place like this.
Raptor already knows he's in for a long morning when he sits down at the breakfast table in the District Two apartment and the first thing Vito says is, "So, let's talk about last night."
"The food was great," Raptor says, because it was absolutely incredible. Bulking up for fights meant steak was a commonplace in Raptor's diet, but nothing in Two even slightly compared to yesterday's prime rib. He may feel the slightest bit bloated now, but it's worth it.
"What about the people?" Madena asks from across the table. Next to her, Berengar's tearing his way through an omelet, a solemn look on his face. "Berengar hasn't given me much intel."
"I did get to have at least a brief conversation with everybody."
"So did I," Berengar scowls then returns to his food.
"Well, what was your biggest discovery then?" Madena reaches in the middle of the table and grabs a salt shaker. On her plate are several hash brown patties, each of them shaped like they're dinosaurs – she's a strange one, isn't she?
"Vito, you were right," Raptor says with a sigh. "Eirian Velvedere is really not that bad."
Berengar spits out his eggs onto the plate and hisses, "What the f*ck do you mean?"
"He didn't seem as bad as we made him out to be yesterday!"
"How did you come to that conclusion? Genuinely, I don't understand!"
"He was really nice to me and only had positive things to say about everybody else."
"That's basically what Jules said when I talked to him last night," Vito interjects. "There hasn't been anybody more beloved at One's Valhalla Academy than Eirian Velvedere in years. Even the Ministry of Finance's son who has the biggest ego anybody's ever seen admitted he was the best volunteer One's had since the war."
"Don't you guys see how this is suspicious?" Berengar sneers. "There's no way in hell somebody's actually flawless like that!"
"I mean, being too nice could be perceived as a flaw," Vito says.
"That's not what I mean! What I'm trying to say is that Eirian's our enemy here."
Maybe Berengar's right, actually. Even if District One eats directly from the Capitol's silver spoon, they're still inferiors in the grand scheme of things. This is still Panem – there's got to be some form of underhandedness and corruption there.
Raptor may have jumped the gun too quickly on his decision to not hate Eirian as much as he's supposed to. After all, he's still an enemy. Even if he does have noble intentions, him wanting to win means he'll eventually want Raptor dead.
"Fine," he concedes. "I'll still keep an eye on him – even if I don't think he's as outwardly suspicious as Selah or Circe."
"Circe's not suspicious," Berengar says. "They just only really care about her girlfriend."
"Which means she doesn't give a f*ck about the rest of us."
"Do you give a f*ck about any of them?"
"Touché." Because even if the trained kids have historically worked together, there's always a moment where they have to go their separate ways. Getting too close to people makes it harder to kill them.
"Let me bring more structure into this conversation," Madena says. "Typically, these large alliances function best if they have a leader. I'm not saying there should be some an authoritarian force, but typically having somebody who–"
Berengar cuts her off. "That's me! I'll be the leader."
"Really?" Raptor squints. "No offense to you, but as potentially suspicious as he may be, the leader's got to be Eirian. The guy has charisma in spades, he'd be most likely to snag us the most sponsors."
"That's not what I thought you'd say. I was expecting you to say you want to be the leader!"
"I'm not sure that's my style." Having to manage everybody seems tedious. Raptor doesn't need practical distractions if he plans on fighting anybody who dares to accept his challenge.
"So you're a coward then?" Berengar sneers. "Too afraid to challenge me so you've backed into Eirian's corner. Maybe I was wrong when I said you were my one most worthy opponent."
"Are we really doing this again? I don't get the big deal – if neither of us lead the alliance, we both get more time for fighting. Isn't that what you want?"
"Not if it's Eirian leading!"
Berengar crumbles his napkin into a ball then tries to step out of his chair. Madena puts her hand on his shoulder and sighs. "Please, Berengar. There shouldn't be this many problems before the Tribute parade."
"Just give it a chance," Raptor pleads. "We don't even know if Eirian wants to be the leader."
"Fine." Berengar returns to his seat and groans. "But if you end up dead because of it, don't say I didn't warn you."
The chariot is just bumpy enough that it makes Raptor's stomach spin but not rough to the point he wants to vomit. Lights surround him from every angle and the sound of applause is permanently embedded in his ears.
"Everybody put your hands together for District Two," the Games Master of Ceremonies, Lynore Guini's, voice screeches from the speakers as the chariot makes a sharp turn toward the runway that's most front and center. "Rowdy Raptor Voinov and Bratty Berengar Rhine!"
Luckily, they assigned derogatory nicknames to Catharsis and Eirian too – it's become a custom that Lyn degrades the Tributes before sitting them down for their interviews. The crowds roar as Berengar and Raptor make their way in front of Lyn's light. Whatever they're chanting, the actual words are lost to the sounds of cameras flashing and shrill screaming.
(Raptor again wonders if they're cheering for Berengar or for him. As terrible as the other boy was this entire morning and afternoon, he somehow managed to get his act together for the parade. He now acts the same way he did back at the reaping, like a dramatic showboat. Though Raptor does his best to compete, that kind of flashiness just isn't in his bones.)
(Granted, being dressed like a Peacekeeper but without the helmet and with a bunch of revealing windows cut into the uniform doesn't do much for Raptor's confidence.)
His dizziness subsides – thank heavens – the second the chariot stops and his feet hit the ground. Berengar hops off with a co*cky smile, then gestures at the other trained Tributes disembarking their chariots too.
"We should probably talk to them," Raptor says. Admittedly, Eirian was the person he talked to the most last night, even if he did meet everybody else.
"Probably a good idea."
Somehow, Raptor finds himself in the middle of a conversation between Catharsis, dressed like a noble with a long golden cape, and the Threes, both dressed in three piece suits with leather hats like they're professors.
"C'mon Selah…" Catharsis semi-whines. "You have to admit – your outfit doesn't look like anything resembling District Three at all."
"That doesn't mean I don't like it," the Three girl says. "I'm confused, though. Yesterday you had nothing but kind things to say about my attire. Is abiding by a meaningless District trope truly enough to change your opinion?"
"I said I liked that outfit!"
"But you don't like this one? I see how it is. And to think–"
"No! This one's nice too! It's just different."
"It exhibits range," Amaro chimes in. "Isn't District One supposed to be known for their well-adjusted perception of fashion?"
"You look nice, Selah."
She crosses her arms and scoffs, "I haven't the time for back-handed compliments. I was going to say that I quite enjoy your get-up, but I'll refrain."
"Umm…" Raptor doesn't know the slightest thing about fashion because why the hell would he, but he still needs to get to know these three since Ilara and Circe are as distant as ever. "I think that everybody looks nice!"
"You would say that, Two." Amaro chuckles, then observes the slits in Raptor's costume. "For the record, I never expect ingenuity when it comes to your District's parade outfits, but a slu*tty Peacekeeper has got to be an all time low."
"Sounds like somebody on your styling team took the phrase "f*ck the police," a bit too seriously," Catharis says.
"Catharsis, please," Selah sneers. "Now isn't the time to be so lewd."
"So there is a time to be lewd?"
"No. There is not."
Yeah, there's not a chance in hell that Raptor forms any sort of meaningful relationship with any of them. Still, it doesn't hurt to have a basic sense of understanding toward their personalities. Just as was predicted, Catharsis is a loose cannon, Amaro's pretentious and full of themself, and there's something unnerving about Selah.
"I find it odd that you're commenting on a lack of ingenuity considering what you're wearing," Raptor says – hopefully it'll give him a clue as to what makes Amaro tick. Already, the Three boy looks like he'd be a good warm-up fight.
"f*cks sake Raptor," Catharis interrupts. "If you're trying to enter a heated battle about the nuances of parade fashion, you're going to lose. We both know you have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yeah, you'd be right about that…" Raptor shrugs. "Look, I just wanted to properly talk to you considering the Fours are ignoring everybody and –"
That's right. He has no idea where Berengar's wandered off to. Raptor's eyes scan the area around him, hoping for a glimpse at the other boy, but he doesn't see him. Instead, he sees Eirian, dressed the same as Catharsis, standing tall while hands that aren't his flail on either side of him.
"For the love of Two, what's he doing now?"
Based on everything else, Raptor was expecting the Capitol's training center to look exponentially nicer than Springridge. However, the rooms look startling similar, blue-gray walls, hard black floor, and neon lighting accenting a myriad of different training stations. Sure, the lights are a bit nicer here and the floor doesn't have a weird scattered pattern, but it's basically the same room twice.
On one hand, it's comforting – it's like Raptor's back in District Two. He knows what he's doing, he knows that people respect him even if it's out of fear, and he knows that he's the strongest and fastest person in the room.
On the other hand, it's scary – it's like Raptor's back in District Two. He doesn't have the chance to show that he's more than the vicious brute people say he is, he doesn't have the chance to grow in any way that's not physical, and he doesn't have the chance to be somebody other than Berengar Rhine's parallel.
A part of him wishes he didn't know Berengar at all when he gathers the alliance into a circle and proclaims, "I hope nobody else was thinking about doing the same because I would like to officially declare myself the leader of this Pack."
"Oh?" Eirian's eyes dart back and forth. "Didn't we talk yesterday about how I also wanted to take the helm?"
"I mean this with the utmost respect, which is very little," Selah says. "I don't really know who you are, Berengar. We talked once at dinner, but I've had far more conversations with Eirian."
"So? What are you trying to say?"
"She's trying to say, she has no idea why you've just up and decided that you're the leader," Amaro interjects. "I've hardly talked to you myself! Eirian on the other hand…"
"I didn't realize this was a popularity contest!"
"Considering nobody really knows you, it sort of is." Raptor realizes that's the most words he's heard come out of Circe's mouth at the same time. "I can't really evaluate your leaderly qualities if I hardly know you."
"I tried to get to know you, but all you wanted to do was kiss your girlfriend."
"Can you blame me? Next time, try harder."
"Look, Berengar," Eirian finally speaks up. "I really don't want this to be a point of argument between the two of us because I still think you're a great person, but I'm not sure you leading would be the best course of action."
"You're wording that too kindly," Catharsis says. "Nobody has any reason to trust you and your decisions. I'm personally not against getting to know you, but Eirian's already put in the legwork to show that he'd be a great fit."
"What about you, Raptor?" Berengar sneers. "You're the only person here who knows me enough to vouch for me. What's your opinion?"
There's desperation in the other boy's eyes as he stares at him. It's enough to leave him at a crossroads. Despite everything, Berengar's his best friend – he's Raptors only friend. In a twisted way, Raptor's always wanted the best for him.
But, this isn't the time for Raptor to put Berengar's interests above his own. Being the only person who backs Berengar would put a target on his back. Sure, Raptor would love to fight everybody else in this conversation eventually, but not because of this. A fight is supposed to be a mutual agreement to challenge each other, not whatever this is.
"Berengar…" Raptor hums. "What do you want me to say?"
"That you know I'd be the best leader because I've only been talking about how badly I want to lead this group for the past year and a half!"
"I do recall that, yes."
"So?"
"I don't know!" Raptor sighs. "You've put me in a position where I'm going to be directly at odds with the people around me. That's not what a good leader does, so I'm going to have to go with Eirian."
For a second, all the color leaves Berengar's face. "Are you f*cking kidding me?"
"Berengar–"
He lurches toward Raptor and grabs onto his shoulders. "Fight 536 right now – I'm tying this thing."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. No weapons – just you and me."
This is oddly exactly what Raptor needs – it's been far too long since he fought somebody. "I promise everyone, this is normal for the two of us. Think of it as practice."
"So you need practice?" Berengar buries his fist into Raptor's stomach. "What do you need to practice?"
"The Games." Raptor squeezes his hands around the other boy's fist and yanks him to the right, sweat running down the sides of his face.
Berengar grunts, then slams his other fist under Raptor's armpit. He flinches, then tries to regain his footing, but Berengar's laced his fingers through his hair and keeps pulling. Trying to ignore the stinging sensation on top of his head, Raptor kicks upward, aiming for Berengar's chin but instead hitting his neck.
The other boy wraps his arms around Raptor's knee, then forces him to the ground. As Raptor falls with a resonant thump, he looks up at Berengar and his sickening grin. He dives toward the ground and straddles him, pinning Raptor's arms above his head.
As Raptor's breaths quicken, Berengar looks at the rest of the alliance and laughs. "See guys! Raptor's opinion hardly matters. You saw how easy this was."
"Let me go," he whispers. It's not so much that this hurts – Raptor's well-familiar with this position – rather it's embarrassing. He was just starting to make a good impression on these people only for Berengar to pigeonhole him back into the person he's starting to hate.
"I think actually, it proves why you shouldn't be the leader," Selah says. "Get your act together, or I'll suggest Eirian doesn't include you in this alliance at all."
"I wouldn't do that," the One boy says. "Just… let go of Raptor, and then we can talk about how this is going to work, moving forward."
Berengar releases him from his grip then straightens out his stark white t-shirt. Raptor slowly rises, the right side of his body throbbing with a dull pain. "Berengar, c'mon man."
"Are you okay?" Eirian reaches over and grabs Raptor's wrist. "Let me see if I can get you some ice."
As Raptor follows Eirian, he doesn't need to turn around to know what's behind him. Berengar's face is hot with rage, and Raptor's not sure what he needs to do if he wants to come back from this.
He wasn't expecting to hear a knock on the door. After dinner was the same-old same-old of him arguing with Berengar and neither of them getting anywhere, Raptor would've been more than happy to call tonight early. Besides, as much as he hates to admit it, the one thing that's always been guaranteed to ease his ailing from injuries is sleep.
Raptor wishes it hurt less when Berengar pushed him – really, he should be used to pain like this by now. But, there was something personal in the way the other boy shoved him. This wasn't just another fight. It couldn't have been. Normally, Raptor doesn't mind losing to Berengar; a loss is just an opportunity to learn and win next time.
What happened today was somehow a defeat on both Raptor and Berengar's sides.
He's not exactly surprised to see Eirian through the peephole. If anything, the Raptor's relieved. It gets harder and harder for him to hate the One boy with every exchange of words. Berengar's hatred isn't a credible source when he's acting like this.
"Hey!" Raptor swings open the door and looks Eirian straight in the eyes. "Any reason you're stopping by?" Odds are, he wants to do what Selah suggested earlier and give Berengar the boot – his mentors probably told him that's the easiest way out of this mess.
All Raptor can do is hope that coming from the same District as him doesn't affect his good standing. "If you want to talk to Berengar, I could go and grab–"
"I don't want to talk to him." Eirian steps inside of the apartment and stretches his arms. "I want to talk to you, actually."
Now why in the world would he want to do that?
Whenever the bells of suspicion toward Eirian in Raptor's head are calm for too long, they always find a reason to play louder.
"What about?" Raptor leads Eirian through the kitchen and into the dining room and pulls out one of the chairs.
Eirian's hand wraps around the chair and for a brief second, his fingers graze against the back of Raptor's hand, his skin softer than anybody he sparred with back in Two. "I'd prefer if we talked somewhere more private, actually."
"Oh? Um… we could go to my room then. There's a really nice couch area."
"I'd say lead the way, but if this is anything like One's apartment, which it certainly seems like, I already know where I'm going."
"Right."
Again, Raptor wonders what Eirian wants and what he's done wrong this time. That's the only reason the One boy would be here now, right?
(Or maybe somebody's finally being kind to him for once. Doubt it.)
Eirian sprawls out on the couch while Raptor sits on the edge of his bed. "Well, is this private enough for you?"
The One boy shuts the door with his left hand. "Now it is."
"Well… You've got me alone. What do you want to talk to me about?"
"You're making this seem like a way bigger deal than it has to be." Eirian chuckles. "Today was rough; I just wanted to check in on you and see how you're doing."
That's what he wants? Really?
"I'm fine. I get knocked around like this all of the time."
"You didn't look fine." Well sh*t. "You were incredibly out of breath and kept leaning over until I got you that ice pack."
"Thanks for that, by the way."
"It's no problem."
Why is it that everything about Eirian is so incredibly likable? The guy's clearly pure of both heart and soul, and Raptor's not sure if he wants to hug him or put him in a chokehold. This isn't what people are supposed to act like.
"You didn't answer my question, Raptor. I asked how you're doing."
"And I said that I'm fine!"
"But I know that you're not so…"
"What's it matter to you? Have you forgotten where we are? Me being injured should be a good thing to you. I'm your competition."
"Not right now you are!" Eirian loudly sighs. "We're allies, and by some stroke of luck, I'm the leader. Who would I be if I didn't check up on everybody at the end of the day."
"Oh, so you're talking to everybody."
Of course he is. What did Raptor think? That he's special? Why would that suddenly be the case now?
"I mean, not everybody, which is the other reason why I'm here."
"You want Berengar?" Raptor launches off the bed and reaches for the door. "Got it, right! I'll–"
"No. I'm honestly not sure that'd be the best move." To that, Raptor crosses his arms, unamused. "I wanted to get your opinion first. Did I do something wrong? Berengar seemed like such a great guy at his reaping and at the parade, but I think he hates me."
"Nobody could hate you!" He has no idea where that came from.
"Well, if he doesn't hate me, I just want to make sure he's okay. Even if he attacked you, he's clearly hurting in his own way."
That very well could be the case. Berengar never told Raptor much about his home life other than that his family's rich as balls and three older siblings really wish they didn't flunk out of Springridge and be forced to become Peacekeepers. Raptor tried prying for more – it only made sense after Berengar came over to his house and made a fool out of himself at dinner with Mom.
But, Berengar wouldn't let Raptor come close to his estate, nor did he ever disclose much aside from his siblings' names. He's always been curious about everything, but he knows it's not his place to bring it up.
"I never know with him," Raptor admits. "It's been five years since we met and I still couldn't tell you a single thing that's ever been on his mind."
"Is he usually like this?"
"Angry and bitter? Honestly, I'm usually the one with a worse temper."
"I doubt that."
"You've known me for forty-eight hours."
"Do you think there's something I can do to help him maybe?" Eirian's expression softens. "I want him to know that I understand he was upset earlier but it hasn't changed my judgment on him in the slightest."
"Berengar's not the best with words. Maybe you could challenge him to a spar tomorrow?"
"Would that make me end up like you?"
"Not if you're careful. Just somehow make it clear to him that you have his best interests at heart. Believe me, it'd mean a lot to him."
Eirian stands up and yawns, his smile returning to his face. "Berengar means a lot to you Raptor, doesn't he?"
"Something like that, yeah."
In a lot of ways, Eirian deciding to pair Raptor with Circe for the morning feels like a sick joke. No offense to them, but when Eirian's paired with Berengar, Catharsis is paired with Selah who they've been bothering incessantly, and Ilara's paired with Amaro, the only person she's spoken full sentences to, putting Raptor with Circe feels like it's supposed to mean something. The issue is, he has no idea what.
Raptor'd be a lot better off in general if he wasn't overanalyzing everybody around him, but it's sort of what he has to do for his "fight everybody he sees and figure out their weaknesses" schtick.
(Isn't it strange that he can scrutinize everybody but himself?)
"If you want me to beat your ass into the ground like Berengar did, you'd better come up with another idea," Circe says as Raptor walks with her past the weaponry station.
"When did I say that's what I wanted?"
"You haven't really said anything so I just assumed."
Unless he's talking to Berengar, he doesn't know what to say in most situations that aren't directly related to fighting, and Circe clearly does not want this to be one. A shame because they look like they'd be a menace in combat, but Raptor supposes that'll have to wait.
"I don't hear you coming up with suggestions yourself."
"Umm…" Circe's voice trails off. "Maybe we could like… rehash some survival knowledge?"
Would this be a good time for Raptor to visit the medicine station or the animal handling station or literally anything besides the weaponry station? Abso-f*cking-lutely! But consider, none of that sh*t's going to prepare him for his final battle before he takes the throne as the best fighter in Panem. Do these people expect him to like… wave a leaf of a plant that may or may not be poisonous in his opponent's face?
"That's boring," Raptor says, probably a bit too dismissively. "I think you know it too."
"Yeah, you're right. The survival stations are dumb as sh*t. Either we survive or we don't – nothing we learn in these three days is going to make a serious impact."
"You get me." Veering away from his beloved weaponry station, he passes by three young Tributes – both Elevens and the boy from Seven, he thinks – messing around with slingshots. "It's almost an insult to the outliers. sh*t like this makes them think they actually have a chance."
"That's sort of the point of the Games, especially these days. The other Districts have to think they actually have a chance at winning so they can't get pissed at the government for mandating they go here in the first place."
"I think they get pissed anyway." Raptor has his own father to vouch, even if he has no idea what the guy thinks. Point is, he's from Two and still has his reasons to hate the Capitol – nobody's ever satisfied in this country.
"I get pissed too," Circe admits. "There's supposed to be a purpose to this whole life thing yet I spent a decade in glorified daycare and now I'm either going to watch the love of my life die, die myself, or both."
"You did choose to volunteer."
"I did, you're right. And a part of that's because I really wouldn't know what to do if I didn't. Most of the kids from Four have these nice jobs lined up but in my family it was always I either volunteer or I… there wasn't another option."
"It's like that in Two as well."
Raptor never had another option either. If he didn't volunteer, he'd have even less of an idea of who he is and what he's supposed to do in this world.
"So you're in agreement then. This whole thing is meaningless and dumb."
"I wouldn't go that far – the Games are going to be great! They're my final test on the road to being the best fighter in Panem."
"Yet you got wrecked by Berengar already…"
"You don't need to remind me of that!" Raptor could explain that losing to Berengar has always been important when it comes to his journey to the top but he doesn't think Circe would understand that. "Maybe instead of walking around in circles, we should check out the rest of the competition."
Even if they're untrained and don't want to be here, they'll make great opponents in the long run. That is, provided they actually put up a fight instead of flipping their sh*t when Raptor accosts them and accepting that they're dead. Like yeah, they aredead, but not before they fight about it.
"I thought you said they don't have a chance!"
Maybe the reason Eirian paired him with Circe is because she's just as unagreeable as he is. Why does that make Raptor a bit self-conscious? Yeah, he never agrees with anybody ever, but Eirian isn't supposed to think that. Why does Raptor even care what Eirian thinks?
(Because he's a decent human being and Raptor's never had one of those potentially interested in him and his life before.)
"Some might have a chance?" Raptor points to the older Tribute from Twelve. Even if she's short, it's built like a brickhouse. It's been lifting weights all day and she's actually doing a pretty good job. "Look, she clearly wants to have a fighting chance."
"Can you blame her?" Circe shrugs. "It grew up in a mega prison and winning this is the only way it gets out of there."
After Twelve blew up in the war, it was rebuilt as a prison for the rebels and criminals of the country. When they have kids, they're forced to stay in the prison until their last Reaping, where if they behaved themselves growing up, they may be allowed to leave. It always yields the most desperate Tributes as a result.
"He looks tough too!" He shifts his attention to one of the Sixes, helping both Fives with throwing knives.
"They're all still screwed and we both know it."
Circe's probably right. Twenty-five people in this room are and he'd argue that she's one of them. Judging based on the amount of second chances Eirian's given Berengar in the past day, he's screwed too.
Does that mean Bererngar's also screwed? If the only person who's significantly mattered to him is screwed, did Raptor even have a chance to begin with? Or, is he living in ignorance that's less blissful than the young children around him's?
The knot in Raptor's stomach gets tighter and tighter with every passing second where Eirian's doing his private session and he has to wait outside next to Berengar.
"What do you think he's showing them?" The other boy asks. The good news is, he seems to be warming up to Eirian – whatever they did yesterday seems to have been helpful. Raptor can only hope that drama's already reached its peak.
"I mean, I have to assume whatever he's doing, he's doing it well." Eirian annoyingly perfect like that – Raptor still hates it.
"He picked a mean fight yesterday with a spear," Berengar says. "Or… it wasn't really a spear. The blade was a bit longer. You know what it's like with Ones and their fancy niche weapons."
The flamboyance District One is known for has always gone hand in hand with ridiculous weapons Raptor's never heard of. Ataru Watanabe from a decade back fought with a gauntlet with a sword built into it which is just plain weird. It's not like that in Two – everybody has to choose between knives, brass knuckles, a scythe, axs, bows, swords, or bigger swords. Those are the weapons that are most common in the arena, after all.
Still, the training center always has every weapon imaginable and the Gamemakers never fail to be impressed with what the Ones show them.
"I can only hope you went easy on him regardless," Raptor says. "He's too much of a prettyboy to be battered and bruised the way I am half the time we fight."
"You think he's pretty?" Berengar's brow twitches.
"Sure. It's none of my business but he's objectively good looking."
"Since when do you care about that?"
"I literally just said it's none of my business…"
Berengar seems to always take it personally whenever Raptor says anything about somebody else's appearance and he doesn't get why. He's easy on the eyes himself but that doesn't matter in the long run. The Games aren't a beauty contest.
A bell rings above the door and Eirian steps outside, a cheeky smile painted on his face. "Speaking of the prettyboy," Berengar mumbles.
"How'd you do?" Raptor asks, eager to change the subject.
Eirian shrugs. "I'm cautiously optimistic."
"Humbling yourself as always… I'm sure you did great."
"I hope you do great too, Raptor. Same goes to you, Berengar!"
"That means a lot," Berengar deadpans.
"Raptor Voinov, please make your way inside the evaluation room," a voice from the speakers sounds. "Selah Alkane, please make your way to the waiting area."
"Well." Raptor sighs. "Here goes nothing."
He doesn't waste any time, storming into the center of the room and facing the glass window above him. Behind the window, the two Head Gamemakers sit front and center with tablets in their laps, surrounded by what Raptor assumes are their underlings.
"Good morning," Raptor says. It's hard for him not to bask in the fact everybody's staring at him and only him. Even when he's fighting his classmates, people are always focusing on both of them. But now, it's Raptor's show and his alone.
"Good morning to you as well," one of the Head Gamemakers, Ulesi Mahamatra, says. "Is there anything we can provide you to assist with your session?"
Raptor smirks. "Send out your best trainers. As many as possible."
"Roger that." Ulesi blows a whistle and six nearly-identical people with matching armor step out of the wings and into the center.
Raptor takes a deep breath, and then the fun begins.
He doesn't even need his trusty brass knuckles to kick things off. Rapidly, he lets his fists plummet into the trainers' faces, hardly giving them time to respond between punches.
As they regain their senses, two of them try to grab Raptor by the shoulders but he puts his arms forward and tears them away from him. He grunts, then sends his left foot flying toward the trainer on the right's stomach.
He shoves the left trainer aside, then turns around and grabs a trainer behind him by the collar bone and punches him in the throat.
With every attack against another trainer, Raptor's heart races faster and faster. This is the most comfortable he's felt since he raised his hand and volunteered, and he relishes each and every moment.
A cut to the knees, his hands around somebody's throat, using a foot to pin someone against the floor – each of his movements is different from the last. Every bead of sweat that rolls down his face is a sign of his success.
One by one, the trainers fall to the floor, unable to fight back. When there's only one more standing, Raptor savors his strikes as he beats him down to the ground. His nails dig into the trainer's scalp like he's a hunter perusing his prey. He grabs onto his cheeks and shakes his head back and forth then wraps his arms around his torso.
Summoning all his strength, Raptor lifts the trainer up into the air then throws him five feet across the room and onto the floor.
He smiles and puts his hands on his hips in triumph. "Thank you for having me."
Raptor gets that it'd be helpful to have the whole alliance in one place when the private session scores drop, but he doesn't like it. It's just way too… vulnerable. Yeah, they're all going to know his score anyway, but he doesn't know if he wants them to see his reaction.
But there's nothing for Raptor to worry about. He did fan-f*cking-tastic at his private session, right? Yes. Yes he did.
The room goes silent once Lyn Guini appears on the television – not that there was much chatter in the first place. Because everybody's mentor is here, people seem to be on their best behavior.
Oddly, the most unruly person here is Robin Verrillo-Santana, Circe's mentor. He suggested no less than twenty times that everybody come up with a drinking game for the score reveal, only to be shut down by his own brother, Venus.
At least the two of them confirm the Two-wide rumors that the Verrillo nepotism babies are the most insufferable c*nts in Panem. Somebody breaks out of the arena one time and suddenly the entire bloodline doesn't know how to act.
"Good evening girlypops!" Lyn Guini says after a horrifying a capella rendition of Panem's national anthem. For some reason, people clap at this." It's finally Hunger Games Eve Eve – isn't that so fun? I've got a lot to share with y'all to celebrate. For the past 72-hours, these Tributes have been on equal footing, but that's all about to change!"
"Equal footing my ass," Catharsis mumbles, their mentor shooting them a dirty look. "What? You really think we're on the same level as the puny brats that didn't choose this?"
"Mx. Guini did say things will change, indicating there was hardly equal footing in the first place, as if it was never meant to last," Selah says.
"To review, our lovely Gamemakers assigned each of our twenty-six Tributes a number on a scale between one and thirteen," Lyn continues. "Two Tributes will receive a score of one, two will receive a score of two, and so on and so forth until we reach thirteen. Remember, the higher the number, the higher the kid's chances are that they're not dead in three weeks."
"Can they get on with it?" Raptor groans. No matter how soon Lyn starts, they're going to take forever to announce the higher scores, stretching it out as long as humanly possible, not that Raptor's fully convinced Lyn's human.
"Patience is a virtue," Berengar chides from Raptor's side.
"I guess I'll go to hell."
"I'll see you there."
What seems like hours of additional meaningless padding from Lyn pass before they finally announce this year's lowest scorers. "Did somebody say flop alert? Even if these first two Tributes didn't say it, their actions spoke way louder."
"Who do you think it'll be?" Robin asks as Lyn opens an envelope. "Think they'll default to picking two little kids again?"
Nobody responds to him, instead waiting for Lyn to talk once more. "Presenting, the deadest meat of the year, Heath Ballota from District Seven and Mahina Bernoulli from District Five!"
Their pictures flash onto the screen – neither of them look older than fourteen so yes, it would appear the Gamemakers did default to picking two little kids again. At least they didn't give the lone twelve year old a one – they gave him a two instead.
Raptor hardly pays attention as Lyn moves up the line, only slightly tuning in when they get to the people who scored eights and nines. One of the kids from Thirteen got an eight alongside somebody from Ten, and one of the Six boys got a nine alongside the stocky person from Twelve Raptor pointed out in training.
The room grows physically tense once Lyn licks their lips and says, "Let's get into the double digits why don't we. In a shocking turn of events, none of the Tributes from Districts One through Four have been scored thus far."
"sh*t," Raptor mumbles. "Here we go."
"Starting off with the tens, we have Ilara Benthos from District Four and Amaro Yukawa from District Three!"
"You're kidding," Amaro says with a gasp. "They gave me a ten?"
"Be grateful," his mentor Credence replies. "Things can always be worse."
Meanwhile, Ilara seems to have no complaints. She just bops her head from side to side, happy to be included in the first place. Circe squeezes her hand and gives her a concerned expression, but Ilara remains unbothered.
Maybe it's co*cky and annoying of Raptor to not be nervous when Lyn moves on to the elevens, but he can't help it. He knows he did good in his private sessions – nothing he can do about it now.
(Should he have done more then? What would he have done even?)
"For our elevens, presenting Selah Alkane from District Three and Catharsis Castello from District One."
That has to be the worst Three's done in recent memory and Selah's just as displeased as Amaro was, even if she's not as verbal about it. Vanya's presence in the room is so non-existent, Raptor forgot she was here in the first place until she patted Selah on the shoulder and softly frowned. It's a huge contrast from the person Raptor saw in the arena last year.
"Don't be sad, Selah!" Catharsis beams. "We're matching. Isn't that dope?"
"I do not know what the word dope means," Selah says. "If it means anything positive, I disagree with you."
So that just leaves Raptor, Circe, Eirian, and Berengar left. At this point, he's no clue how they'll shake out. A Four hasn't gotten a thirteen in the past eight years while a One does almost every year. If you asked him earlier, Raptor would have said he's fine getting a twelve, but Berengar still being in the mix changes everything. Suddenly, there's nothing Raptor wants more than to be at the top.
"Now, let's move on to what I like to call our top losers," Lyn says. "So close to being the best but no cigar – I almost feel bad."
Raptor's fingers curl into a fist and his eyes trail over to Berengar to see he's doing the same thing. He tries to take deep breaths but it's like there's a bug inside his stomach nibbling away at his intestines.
It feels like a century has passed before Lyn Guini announces, "This year, our twelves are Circe Rongomai from District Four and Berengar Rhine from District Two."
Though Circe smiles, Berengar looks like his eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. Raptor inches closer to them and says, "Don't be upset – these scores hardly mean anything."
That's a lie – these scores mean everything in the world once Lyn says, "Now, at the top of this year's pyramid, presenting the thirteens, Raptor Voinov from District Two and Eirian Velvedere from District One!"
Eirian stands up and playfully drags Raptor off the couch. "Look at that, my guy! We both lucked out!"
He raises his hand for a high-five and Raptor gleefully accepts. "Congratulations, Eirian."
Even though the smile on his face grows wider and wider, Raptor finds it increasingly painful to smile on the inside. Berengar's expression is nothing short of livid, and he can tell that he's doing everything he can to not blow a fuse in public.
Raptor's not upset that Berengar's hurt, for once. He's upset because even now, the other boy refuses to let him have anything good for himself.
(Is that really what a friend's supposed to be like?)
Raptor would hate his life at least a thousand times less if Lyn stopped asking him these annoying-ass questions. Even though tit* Tickles tried to get Raptor to learn how to behave himself for his interview all morning, he's still widely uninterested in charming anybody.
It doesn't matter what these people think of him – he'll survive regardless of how much money they throw his way. Yeah, it'd be nice if they believed in him, but his thirteen speaks way louder than his words when it comes to logistics. Raptor's the guy who can f*ck people the f*ck up without worrying about the consequences and anybody with a decent level of intelligence is going to sponsor him.
He's not sure he can charm these people if he did try. Eirian did all of the charming for the rest of the evening with his interview, sharing funny quips about his family and harping on how great of an honor it is for him to be here. There's not a chance in hell Raptor competes with that.
"Okay!" Lyn clasps their hands together. "Before you leave, I have one last question for you, Toto!"
"Stop calling me that," he says, though he gets the feeling Lyn won't be stopping.
"I want you to tell both me and the rest of the country, what's one big thing you'll be contributing to the Games that we should look out for."
Raptor rolls his eyes. "I'll be throwing hands."
"Meaning?" Lyn tilts their head in confusion, which they've got to be faking because there's not a chance in hell they don't know the saying "throw hands."
"I plan to enter fights and win."
"Simple – I respect it." But do they really respect it if they're calling fighting "simple." It's just about the most complex thing in the world.
Before Lyn has a chance to say goodbye, Raptor steps away from them and walks back to the onstage couch area where the rest of the Tributes are meant to watch all the other interviews and try not to react in a way that looks weird on camera. Lyn's assistant, Luvenia, grabs Raptor by the wrist and leads him back to his seat.
"Alright Berry, you're up next pookie!" Strangely, their words bring a smile to Berengar's face. He was, as expected, completely livid once he and Raptor returned to Two's apartment after the score reveals last night, but he's been void of emotion all day.
Raptor tried to cheer him up by inviting him to brunch alongside Circe, Ilara, and Eirian, but he seemed uninterested and even a little sad. Raptor doesn't understand – he was literally invited.
For the first half of his interview Berengar goes through all the basics, saying he loves his family and is excited to make District Two proud and what not, and Raptor nearly tunes him out until Lyn asks what seems to be a heavy question.
"If you had to choose between family and friendship, which would you choose and why?"
There is absolutely no reason they need to ask that in an interview for the Hunger Games, so Berengar looks incredibly perplexed. In fact, it's the longest Raptor's seen him being willingly quiet in years.
"My family," Berengar finally says, but his eyes indicate he wants to say the opposite. "They've paved the way for me to have an incredible life, and it's only fair that I repay them. In every struggle I've experienced, my family has pushed me to overcome them and be a better person. I have no idea who I would be without them."
Even if Lyn seems to, Raptor doesn't believe a single thing he's saying. So many people adore Berengar in Two and he actively avoids returning home as much as possible.
"Is there a reason you didn't pick friends?" Lyn asks – Two's sake they're so damn nosey.
Berengar nods. "When I say family, I'm not talking about the people whose house I live in. I'm talking about my friends, one friend in particular."
Oh.
Oh.
Raptor's stomach turns.
"I'm glad you have such a historically close friend!" Lyn exclaims, and then sends Berengar off on his way.
When he returns to his seat, he glances over at Raptor with stars in his eyes. Suddenly, Berengar's not the tyrant he's been all week. He's once again the endearing young boy that pestered Raptor for weeks until he finally agreed to fight.
It's enough to remind Raptor why he's put up with him for so long in the first place.
"Thank you for being such a good friend," he whispers. "I already said it once but I'll say it again. There's nobody I would rather be here with than you."
"Raptor, that means more than you know."
And again, just for a moment, there's no place Raptor would rather be.
Raptor hates even the notion of this party. Vito said it was his chance to redeem himself in the sponsors' eyes after his "lackluster interview," as if Raptor gave a sh*t about his interview in the first place. Really, he'd expect Vito to know him better by now.
The ballroom's decked out with neon pink lighting and green tassels hanging down from the ceiling, reflecting off a large mirrored ball. It's incredibly tacky, even for the Capitol. Even the "live entertainment," some rock band named Ghoul, is tasteless and foul. Their lead singer is dressed like a nun though scantily clad, as if she's making a parody out of herself.
Beside him stands Berengar and his eyes indicate that they're both playing a hidden game. It's clear – neither of them like this party, but who's going to be the first to admit it? Raptor swears up and down it won't be him, even if this is literally the worst place on Earth.
"Can they play some real music?" Berengar scoffs as Ghoul transitions into a song about crucifying somebody. "I don't understand any of this sh*t."
"Since when did you care about music?" Seriously, the arts are so District One. Nobody in Two's ever had time for that sh*t.
"I just wanted to find a reason to complain. Neither of us have done enough of it this evening."
"Maybe I'm not complaining because I actually like this party…"
"Please…" Berengar brushes against Raptor's side and smirks. "You hate this party and we both know it."
"Oh really? What is there for me to hate?"
"The music, the ambiance, the people, you name it!"
Yeah…
"Why would I hate my future sponsors?"
"Because in your interview, it certainly seemed like you did."
"At least I didn't say that my friends are my family and highlight one friend in particular."
Berengar's expression softens. "Is there a problem with that? Raptor, do you think that the friend I was talking about is you? Two Almighty, would it kill you to get your head out of your ass for just thirty seconds?"
No – Raptor knows Berengar was talking about him. He's the only person the other boy shares meals with and the only one he cares to be seen outside of training with. Is he trying to throw Raptor off his game here or something? Because it's not working.
"Say what you want." Raptor chuckles dryly. "I'm going to go find the others."
The Pack may not be his friends – at least, Eirian excluded – but he still needs to play nice with them. Berengar's always preached keeping your potential enemies close.
"Why?" Berengar hisses.
"Huh?" Raptor quips a brow. "You mean… why do I want to talk to our allies?"
"Yeah – since when do they matter?"
"Umm…. until it gets to the point in the arena when I say they don't."
Not paying him further mind, Raptor jostles his way through the crowd until he finds himself pressed up against Eirian's chest.
"Oh, hey there!" The One boy offers Raptor a playful salute. "I was wondering where you were."
"I was just chatting with Berengar, you know how it is," he smirks. Next to Eirian, Amaro stands tall with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Now, what have you two been getting up to?"
Amaro giggles, then points across the dance floor where Selah's clinging onto Catharsis for dear f*cking life. "Eirian didn't see that coming."
"Was I supposed to assume that the two of them were into one another like that?"
"I just don't get how it wasn't obvious to you. Selah let Catharsis piss her off endlessly – if she didn't like it, she would've stopped it."
"Well, I don't know Selah that well!"
It takes until mid-conversation for Raptor to understand what they're talking about and even longer for him to figure out what he's supposed to say. Finally, he decides on, "As long as they're happy together, I guess?"
On the inside, he's doing backflips. That's two big competitors that'll no longer be at the top of their game and an entire half of the Pack with their head stuck in the clouds. That should make fighting them easier. All Raptor has to do is separate them from their love interests and force them to fight him to have them back. It's got the potential to be glorious.
"I mean… would you say that you and Berengar are happy together?" Amaro winks, which Raptor doesn't understand.
"We can be happy?" He answers, unsure he gets what they're playing at. "He's been my friend for half a decade and of course that comes with rough patches every now and then."
"Oh." Amaro's cheeks puff up like he's holding in a laugh. "You said you were just talking to him – why didn't he come and say hi?"
"Ummm…" Raptor's eyes scan the ballroom until he finds Berengar in line at the bar – huh?
He's never seen the guy have even a drop of liquor, so this doesn't add up. Berengar would always scorn Raptor for even suggesting that alcohol exists. He'd call it liquid poison and flinch like a child whenever it was around him.
But now? No… this doesn't make sense. Why is he–
"He shouldn't be there!" Raptor stammers, tip-toeing toward the bar.
"Shouldn't be where?" Eirian asks, following closely.
"At the bar. Berengar doesn't drink – he hates alcohol with a burning passion."
The way he downs a shot of Two-knows-what would say otherwise.
Nimbly, Raptor climbs around the people in front of him, the bright lights shining in his eyes and hindering his vision. "Berengar…"
"I don't think he can hear you," Eirian says.
"He can't be doing that!" Raptor watches as Berengar smiles at the bartender then slips back into the crowd. "Where's he going?"
"It's going to be fine."
"No, Eirian." Raptor snaps his head to the side. "You don't get it. This isn't going to be fine at all…"
He continues to make his way through the crowd, shouting Berengar's name every few seconds to no avail. Three minutes pass before Eirian grabs onto Raptor's shirt collar and sighs.
"He probably went back to your apartment."
"Of course he did." Raptor takes a deep breath and lets it out. "I guess I'll be leaving early too, then."
"Why?"
"To talk to him, obviously!"
"Not right now," Eirian pleads. "Please, Raptor. Let me talk to you first."
Um… okay? "Fine. Let's go outside."
Admittedly, the cool air from the night sky is a welcome replacement for the hubbub inside. Still, it doesn't entirely cure him from the uneasy feeling growing in his stomach as he looks out into the city skyline.
Why would Berengar do that? The Games have always meant more to him than they have to Raptor yet suddenly he's acting like he's ready to throw it all away? This isn't right. This isn't the Berengar Rhine he knows far too well.
"I think I know what's happening with him," Eirian says as he joins Raptor up against the railing. "It happens to kids in One all the time. They'd get stressed out and then they'd drink so much booze they forgot they were stressed to begin with."
"People drink in Two as well, but not Berengar. Never Berengar." Raptor sighs. "Like I said to you before, I don't know much about his family. But, based on the way he describes his father, I'd imagine substance abuse is somewhere in the picture."
"I get it. My father too – he got sucked into all the designer drugs flying around the streets and suddenly I have no idea where he is and I'm at the Academy trying to make a name for myself because everybody hates my family."
Was that what Raptor's father was doing that his mother deemed so unforgivable? Raptor's brow furrows – it has to be more complicated than that.
"What are you staring at me like that for?" Eirian asks. "I'm just saying. I've been in Berengar's shoes and I know how hard it can be to just say no, but I don't think this should be your concern…"
"Why not?"
Raptor's just about ready to leave this balcony and go find Berengar. Why did he think talking to Eirian would be insightful and worthwhile again?
"I've seen the way he's talked to you this past week. Raptor, that's not how friends are supposed to talk to each other."
For a second, time stops. Why is Eirian right?
"I know that you guys are close, but he's a lot meaner to you than you are to him. I don't think one night out of drinking is going to kill him – the Capitolites wouldn't let that happen."
"I still need to make sure he's okay." Even if Berengar doesn't deserve it, meeting him at his level will best prepare Raptor for their final fight which could come any day now.
(He hopes it doesn't come for weeks. He doesn't know what he'll do when that time finally arrives.)
"Don't you want to stay with me?" Eirian's eyes widen like a sad puppy. "It's our last night of freedom – it'll be fun!"
"I'm sorry, Eirian." Raptor sighs. "I need to go talk to him."
(He'll forever wonder if he made the right choice.)
Raptor barges into the apartment to see Berengar laying on the couch with half his shirt undone and his eyes bulging out of their sockets.
(For a millisecond, he thinks the other boy is dead, and everything around him starts to burn.)
"What are you doing here?" Berengar groans, peeling himself off the couch. "I thought you were having so much fun at that party."
"I was until I saw you at the bar," Raptor says. "What the hell was that about?"
"I was having a drink. What's the big deal?"
"Um… hello? You don't drink."
"Well, I do now…"
"This isn't the time for you to decide that."
"Feelings are inconvenient, what can I say?" Berengar waves his hands in the air dramatically. "Everything is just so inconvenient, isn't it? So f*cking inconvenient!"
"What are you trying to say?" Raptor squints and notices that Berengar's pupils have dilated and the tips of his ears are turning red. "Berengar, I just want you to be okay. Please, you're not acting like yourself."
He hasn't been for a while and Raptor can't figure out why.
"Oh, I'm sorry, am I inconveniencing you?" The other boy sneers. "I forgot that we're not actually friends and I'm just some roach for you to stomp all over until you find something better."
"You're not making any sense right now." Have they not established by now that yes fighting aside, they are friends.
"Well you're not making any sense either, Mr. Popular!"
"I had brunch with three other people this morning and I invited you. I expected you'd be there."
"I know where I'm not wanted," Berengar scoffs. "You only invited me out of pity."
"No? I invited you because I knew you also hadn't talked to Ilara much and Eirian and I were–"
"For the love of all things good in this world, please don't say his name."
"Eirian?"
"Please shut the f*ck up about him!"
Raptor hasn't really talked about him that often. In fact, whenever he does, Berengar is first to bring him up. He doesn't see the issue – it's become abundantly clear that Eirian's not the threat they initially thought he was, so why not play nice with him?
"I swear, if I hear his name from your mouth one more time–"
"You'll do what?" Raptor shouts. "You'll make a fool out of yourself and try to kill him?"
"I wouldn't be making a fool out of myself."
"You are so f*cking dense at times."
"So you think I couldn't do it? You think he's better than me – I knew it!"
"I never said that!"
"You never had to. I already know."
Raptor feels his entire body surge with rage. This isn't what he signed up for when he first fought Berengar. He wanted a rivalry and a challenge, not this.
"You're not acting like yourself. Please, just go to bed."
"Why? So you can go back downstairs and hang out with Eirian without worrying about me?"
"I never said that…"
"I bet you'll have so much fun with him. I bet it'll be better than anything we've ever done together because Eirian's just so great and amazing, isn't he?"
"You're putting words in my–"
Berengar grabs Raptor by the wrist and pushes him against the wall. "You hate me, don't you? You hated me this entire time and you were too much of a coward to say so, right?"
"I don't hate you," Raptor hisses. "Maybe I just… also want a friend who's capable of actually being nice to me instead of insulting me all the time"
(Maybe he shouldn't have said that.)
"f*ck you, Raptor!" Berengar's fist collides with Raptor's left eye, the area surrounding it immediately starting to sting. "f*ck you, f*ck you, f*ck you!"
He pushes Raptor to the side and screams. "You don't understand, do you? You've never understood this whole time."
"I haven't–"
"f*ck you, Raptor. f*ck your thick skull that can't even see what's right in front of it."
"Beren–"
The other boy storms out of the room and slams the door behind him. Raptor folds his head into his hands and mumbles at the ground, "sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t."
He's expecting the other boy to come out of his room and say something else but he never returns. Raptor slowly collapses to the ground, wincing as the area around his eye continues to throb.
What was Berengar trying to do? What did he mean? What does any of this mean?
This is just a trick, isn't it? Yeah, Berengar's trying to make Raptor weak so that he can win their final fight and come out on top once and for all. f*cking brutal – but Berengar's always known how to play dirty a bit too well.
He'll let the other boy have whatever small victory he thinks this is, because it doesn't mean anything at the end of it all. He can mope and whine all he wants but they both know it's out of fear because he can't accept that Raptor's finally gotten better than him.
It seems he'll have to learn it eventually, one way or another.
"I'll ask you one more time before I go, what happened?"
Vito's nothing if not persistent, but Raptor can't let this one slip. Even though he could hardly open his left eye this morning thanks to all the swelling, there's no reason Vito needs to know because there's nothing he can do about it. No matter how good his intentions may be, this isn't the mentor's business.
"I fell at the party – same thing I told you the last three times you asked."
"Okay, yes. You did tell me. I'm sorry for asking so many times." He for sure knows that Raptor's full of sh*t, but maybe he's finally gotten tired of trying to change things.
Even if he did, the outcome would still be the same in the end. It'd still be Raptor groaning in a spotted blue gown wearing thick socks and rubber clogs with holes scattered above the foot. Berengar would still be just a few rooms away, probably complaining about the gown's lackluster airflow.
It'd still be the two of them about to fight for their lives and Raptor would still feel so unsure yet confident at the exact same time.
"I'll see you on the other side, yeah?"
"Really, Vito? Do you actually think you will?"
"You have as much of a chance as I did."
No – Raptor has more of a chance than anybody here. The Games are everything his life's been leading up to and he knows it now for certain. He was born to be here. If he wins, he doesn't have to be Ylva Voinov's dissatisfactory son or Berengar Rhine's consistent runner-up. If he wins, all he has to be is Raptor.
(He doesn't even know who that is when he's not wrapped in bandages and howling like a dog with its teeth bare, ready to fight.)
(If he wins, maybe he can learn.)
"I'll do my best then."
But not for Vito, or his mother, or District Two, or anybody else.
When he steps on the platform and the glass tube around him seals shut, everything in his life seems to suddenly make sense. The world is his and he finally has the guts to take it.
