The 92nd Annual Hunger Games [M]

[Zulera301]

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I know that I finished this fic months ago, and that the 40 existing chapters stood well enough by themselves, but I felt that, like its predecessor, it deserved a little afterthought and some smoother transition into its respective sequel. Either way, this was one of the results. Depending on how well-received this story portion is, I would be willing to post as many epilogue chapters as people would like to see. Whatever the case, here's a bit of Amy's life between Hunger Games. Hopefully you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Happy Reading!

PART IV: EPILOGUE—LIFE BACK HOME

CHAPTER 41: A Welcome Reunion

Peacekeepers not only had to commit to at least 20 years of service upon becoming an officer, but it also meant a lot of becoming acquainted with another district, which in turn meant much less time being spent at home.

It did not mean they were without holidays of their own though, and shortly after Amy's victory tour, Azhar and Jawna Zavala got to see their daughter in person again, instead of from the sidelines of District 5 during her tour stop there.

Naturally, they were both in awe at Amy's mansion, for not even Peacekeepers got living quarters this luxurious. The only people that had better residences were those of the Capitol itself.

"I missed you two," she smirked as she showed them around the mansion that she basically ruled on her own. Now and again Clove, Elroy, or Enobaria showed up for cards, but for the most part, it was hers and hers alone. "How's District 5?"
"It's stable there," Azhar shrugged, "but the citizenry is silent and complacent. It's always hard to tell with District 5 though."

"You're always so professional, dad," Amy shook her head, "you and mom should lighten up."
"How were the games," Jawna asked curiously, "how do you feel now versus then?"
"Well… I do feel a bit… empty," Amy admitted, sitting down on the edge of a counter. She was still a very small girl after all. "I miss Marcus. He was the best friend a kid could have, really."
"It's never easy to lose a friend," Jawna consoled, "I wish we could have been there for you, Amy—to see your reaping; to see your victory—to see our little girl all grown up." she put her arms around Amy, who reciprocated the gesture. There was certainly a strong family resemblance among the Zavalas: all of them had the same tan-brown skin and dark brown hair that was nearly black.

"I mean, I feel like I'm stable enough." She admitted, "I'm not taking shots up the arms like Clove, and I'm certainly not like Katsuo or Kaede… I just don't feel anything. I just… haven't really been able to laugh; to cry… I feel almost like Leto."

"Killing is merely part of the game," Azhar reminded her, "it's simply business."
"I know," Amy nodded, "but even then—these were not sadistic murderers or criminals. These were just kids trying to do the same thing I was trying to do: survive—even that Monica girl from '12."

"People like her are the reason that Peacekeepers exist," Azhar stated, "I can only imagine how she was back in her home district."
"I disagree," Amy indicated as her parents sat down across from her counter that she was dangling her legs from. Unlike many victors, the arena uniform did not mean anything good or bad to Amy, and so she wore clothing similar to it simply because it was comfortable. "I met her sister during the post-speech feast. She said that Monica was nothing like that before the games. If there's one thing that the games taught me, it's that people will do anything to try and survive it. The same sort of passionate determination that fuelled Monica also fuelled her predecessor Aveline. My stance from my victory speech in District 12 has not changed a bit. I respect my enemies. I do not have to love them, but I acknowledge that they have dreams, desires and ambitions that do not involve personal vendettas against me any more than I desired to harm them."
"And what of those that wish to tear Panem apart?" Jawna suggested, "What of the rebels in places like 12, 8, and 11?"

"My understanding is that there are good ways to do things, and bad ways. Monica's notion of trying to act like a bloodthirsty monster was not exactly conventional or very effective, but her methods of killing were extremely efficient and effective, and I laud her for them, even if one of them was near and dear to my heart."
She sighed, briefly thinking of Marcus again, half wishing he could come bursting through the door with a big stupid grin on his face and his massive arms outstretched so he could bear-hug Amy. Alas, nothing came in from the door, and Jawna and Azhar remained where they were.

"So tell me, Amy," Azhar decided to pop an important question, "Now that you've won the Hunger Games… what do you want from life? Panem is a vast, rich locale full of opportunity."
"But is it?" Amy thought to herself, remembering seeing the way of life in the poorer districts like 10, 11, and 12. Sure things were fine and dandy in District 2, but perhaps Enobaria was right. They didn't really owe anything to the Capitol. Sure they were the hand that fed the districts, but what if the districts were able to feed themselves without exporting it all to the Capitol?
Amy simply didn't want to get involved in rebellions and other messy issues right now because she felt like she didn't know the full scope of what was going on and where, other than that Peacekeepers on leave from District 12 often talked about how they were "a swarthy bunch of rebels", but what confused Amy about it was that if '12 was so full of rebels, why had nothing been done yet?

"Fair enough," Amy shrugged in response/acknowledgement to her father's remark. "As for what I want… I simply want peace. I may be a trained killer, but I did not do that out of any desire—I simply did it out of necessity. I would readily defend myself from any hostile threat, foreign or domestic."
"I just hope '11 and '8 stay in line," Jawna shook her head, "there's been reports of trouble from those districts lately."
"Is that normal?" Amy tilted her head slightly.

"Fortunately, it is," Jawna nodded, "so it's nothing that the Peacekeeper forces deployed there are not used to. I just hope that everyone is alright."
Amy paused, before nodding. "Aye; me too…"

There was about a week where Amy and her parents were able to spend time together, before their leave period ended and they would be redeployed back to District 5. During this time, they laughed and enjoyed each other's company, reminding Amy that her family was still somewhat functional, but there were also times where Amy felt quietly awkward about the whole political issue that seemed to be floating around. On one hand, there were Districts 2, 5, and 1, that seemed to be the most loyal to the Capitol, and on the other hand, there were districts like 12, 8, 11, and 3 that seemed to be the opposite. Amy felt that Districts 6, 7, 9, and 10 might be able to be pushed towards the Capitol side using fear tactics or something similar, but she couldn't put a finger on District 4 one way or the other. '5 might have been the most mysterious of Panem's districts, but '4 had behavioral patterns that were very difficult to predict.

Such was the advantage of living in a district so full of Peacekeepers—Amy got to hear (and overhear) a bit about life in the other districts. It made her wonder if Lyme, Leto, and Enobaria were really onto something in terms of rebellion. She couldn't see it happening in District 2, but on the other hand, if Panem was going to be split down the middle, Amy naturally wanted to choose the winning side, whichever side that was.

On the other hand, Amy's parents were either oblivious to Amy's thought process, or they simply did not say anything one way or another about it. As the time came for them to take the train back to District 5, Amy was there till the last possible second.

"We're proud of you, Amy," Azhar hugged his little daughter, who, despite her young age and small size, had proven that she was as intellectually and emotionally mature and capable as most adults, "you are a wonderful asset to District 2's victor pool, and will be just as impressive of a mentor."
"Thanks dad," Amy returned the hug, before her mother came to give her the same treatment.

"We love you, Amy," she smiled sweetly, patting her back once her arms were around the small girl. "And remember—no matter what you did or what you do—we will always love you."

With this, Amy waved goodbye as they and several other peacekeepers boarded a train that would take them to various districts (and a few from other districts that worked in District 2, back to their families for a week or so). After the train pulled out of the station, Amy began walking slowly back to her home, thinking about everything that had happened in the last week.

It was clear that Azhar and Jawna were staunch supporters of the Capitol, but they did not seem rock-headed about it. They did try to promote the notion that Amy should also be pro-Capitol, but did not try to shove it down her throat, and respected her input and opinion when she said she would rather not talk about it. It made her wonder though—if push came to shove, would she and her parents find themselves on opposite ends of the battlefield? Or, would she join them, and find herself facing off against Enobaria, Leto, and Lyme? Clove also seemed to be something of a fence-sitter, but the other three were clearly resolutely anti-Capitol. Enobaria in particular often talked about the idea of a Capitol Hunger Games, using citizens from the government in a death arena just as they had done with children from the districts for nearly a century.

She would need to think about this for a while. It was not like rebellion was on their doorstep and she was faced with the immediate question of what side to take, but she knew, after the time she had spent with her parents, that there would eventually come a time when there would be no more fence-sitting. Soon, something would happen in one of those rebellious districts—most likely '12 or '8, and conflict would escalate. Would District 2 stand with its fellow districts, or against them?

Whatever the case, Amy knew that her time of sitting on the metaphorical fence between loyalty and rebellion had come to a close…

[Zulera301]

AUTHOR'S NOTES: There always seems to be a bit more behind-the-scenes work going on in District 2, which is torn between the large, staunchly loyal majority of the citizenry who supports the Capitol, and the small but vicious minority that stands against them, which includes most of the victors of the 'games, who have seen the horrors the Capitol can unleash. We also get to see a rare glimpse of the elusive Kaede and Katsuo, the mentally unstable victor pair that won the games between Clove's time and Amy's time.
Happy Reading!

CHAPTER 42: The Secrets of District 2

Amy was not exactly worried about her upcoming life as a new mentor. She often teased Clove about how she would force the older girl into retirement, but Clove would simply laugh.

"District 2's has two mentors for decades before I came along," she quipped, still feeling rather sedated after another needle to the arm, "you can't get rid of me that easily."
"You say that like you were born to mentor," Amy elbowed the knife-thrower's arm.

"Maybe I was," Clove retorted, "what's it to ya?"
"We could always go for some drinks if you wanted, "the tiny girl suggested,

"Amy you're too young to drink." Clove laughed.

"Clove, we've been over this." Amy retorted. "and no, before you ask, you are still no Marcus."
"And you're no Cato," Clove had the reply on her tongue waiting to strike, it seemed.

"Was Cato a 5-foot-tall assassinating machine?" Amy riposted without hesitation.
"4'10", Amy;" Clove ruffled Amy's hair. "If anything, you're a lot like Leto."

"Leto's even colder and more distant than I am though," Amy raised an eyebrow.

"Aye, but she's smart," Clove agreed, "and she's like you: small, cunning, stealthy, and ruthless. There's a reason she was called The Terror of the 35th."

"But I'm not Leto," Amy reminded her, "I'm Amy."

"And that's the mentality you ought to have—and one to remind your tributes of. Despite your stellar accomplishments, kid… no one will ever be you. No one will ever be me. No one will ever be the Raiden twins… or Brutus, or Enobaria, or Elroy, or Layla. I feel like too often kids get so entrenched in the Hunger Games spirit that they forget themselves in the process. That's where a lot of the murderous careers come from, I feel."
"Wasn't that how you were?" Amy asked, more curious than trying to jab at her old mentor.

"For a while, aye," Clove nodded, "my sister managed to help snap me out of that during a visit.
"Where's she at?" Amy tilted her head curiously.

"She's off Keepin' the Peace in District 12," Clove shrugged, "your folks are in '5, right?"
"yup," Amy nodded, "where are your folks again?"
"Drunk off their asses back in the district," Clove grunted; "hell if I'm going to let them drink all my beer. I think they still assume that I died in the 74th Hunger Games…"
"That's… kind of sad, really." Amy frowned.

"Eh, I've gotten over it. I am not them, and they do not define me. I am Clove Kazera, and I know what I've done. I've got my faults, and I've got my feats. I'm rather proud of myself when all is said and done."

"You've always been arrogant though," Amy elbowed her.

"Why do you think I'm still a mentor," Clove winked. "who better to pass awesome wisdom onto little kids than Clove Kazera?"
"Clove," Amy elbowed her, "I'M the little kid. Most of our tributes are 17 or 18. I'm barely 15."
"And that's part of what makes you badass," Clove ruffled Amy's hair, "you were 14 when you won the games. There are only three other kids that can say the same: Alice DeSiete from District 8; Leto Irizari from here in District 2; and Finnick Odair from District 4—victors of the 46th, 35th, and 65th games respectively."
"And only one kid has ever won the games younger than that, right? Ikki Ortolani, District 3?"

"I actually use her games in some of my mentoring…" Clove pointed out, "I sometimes give lectures at the training academies, which really just consists of me bragging about my accomplishments.

"You really haven't lost your arrogance, have you?" Amy laughed.

"It'll die when I stop mentoring," Clove chortled, "but speaking of the academies, what say you and I pay them a visit—just for fun?"
"We never need to train there again though," Amy reminded her.

"Well of course not," Clove agreed, "we're just there to watch the promising recruits. Remember—two of those kids will be your tributes next year—and if I recall correctly, you were the one that vowed to bring home another victor next year if you won."
"I did indeed say that," Amy agreed, "and I'm not going back on that. Not to say that District 2 doesn't have its share of victors already, but I see nothing wrong with us winning again."
Clove paused. "y'know what, kid… I think we need to pay a couple other someones a visit. Tell me what you know of Katsuo and Kaede Raiden…"
"All I know was that they were siblings who won back-to-back games, much like Cashmere and Gloss from District 1, or Maius and Iunius from here about 80 years ago." Amy admitted.

"They were the kids who should have been your mentors," Clove indicated, leading Amy out into the large Victor Village courtyard. Given its comparatively large population, the square was very well-maintained, and was aesthetically pleasing to behold. "even if you discount the fact that their games were nearly identical, they're a couple of messed up kids."
"In what way," Amy followed Clove, now having a shrewd notion that Clove was leading her to see said individuals, "I mean, I've heard they were crazy, but how crazy is crazy?"

"I'm not entirely sure, frankly" Clove admitted, "they will kind of just look at you with vacant stares and sometimes giggle. You'll see what I mean."
Clove knocked on the door of one of the mansions that Amy had not been to before. She assumed the Raiden siblings shared it, given that she had been to Clove's place, as well as Enobaria's, Elroy's, Brutus', Lincoln's, Lyme's and Leto's. She had not seen the victor Layla's mansion yet, although she suspected there might have been a reason. She, like the Raiden twins, was not all there.

A young man in his late 20s opened the door after Clove knocked. He gave a somewhat wheezy giggle before motioning for the two victors to come inside.

"This, Amy," Clove began, "is Katsuo, victor of the 82nd Hunger Games—a brilliant kid, and one of the most fearless little shits I ever met. The games destroyed him, and a lot of us don't even know why. It was dark, and there were noises, and flashes of light. It was a repeat of the year before, which was a hit, and somehow it managed to be a hit as well."

Clove frowned. "where's your sister?" he asked. Katsuo did not say anything, but skipped away and came back with his sister Kaede in tow.

"And this," Clove introduced the girl who was similarly silent except those wheezy giggles, "is Kaede—victor of the 81st Annual Hunger Games. She's a beautifully talented kid as well, and definitely one of the most audacious. However, like her brother, the games destroyed her too."

Both siblings did smile and shake Amy's hand, although one look into their eyes told Amy all she needed to know—neither one of them would focus on anything. It was half a surprise that they were not blind, but they seemed very alert—just also very aloof.

"Can you speak, or are you two like Misaha and Zakuya?" Amy asked them, and almost immediately Katsuo clutched his forehead and Kaede covered her ears.

"Welcome, Amy, to the reason District 2 victors are discontent with the scheme of things." Clove indicated, "they are still a pair that you would not want to cross in the arena, but look at them—they don't even talk anymore. Our next stop is going to be Layla Aranai, 48th Hunger Games. That kid saw horrors that few others can even say, and she's a wreck."
"Look at yourself though, Clove," Amy pointed out, "I mean, no offense, but you're not exactly the most stable victor out there either. You've said it yourself"
"I knew you were observant," Clove smirked, to Amy's slight surprised, "why do you think I've taken a side. Leto's lost feeling, Layla's a mess, Enobaria's all jaded, I'm on drugs, the Raiden twins are demented… and how about you, kid? Do you think you'll survive unscathed?"

"I've probably gotten in the same boat as Leto, admittedly," Amy confessed as they waved goodbye to the Raiden twins. While their eyes were clearly very unfocused, they did both smile and wave back. "After Marcus died… I just stopped feeling much of anything. Most of my friends are just the other victors. That's normal though, isn't it?"
"It sure is," Clove nodded, "I used to be a lot different, even. I was a lot more sadistic, and had an unhealthy competitive streak. Nowadays, I'm just calm and awesome—as long as they sedate me anyways." She chuckled.

"yeah… I think I remember enough times when that hasn't happened." Amy elbowed her playfully.

"It's the victor life…" Clove sighed somewhat fondly, "It is what it is…"
as they ambled towards Layla's mansion, Amy couldn't help but think about the plights of her fellow victors and the discontent that it was stirring up among District 2's most popular citizens (assuming the victors were such, at least). She was still slow to want to drop her neutral stance, but she knew that her time of "fence-sitting" was coming to a swift end…

[Zulera301]

AUTHOR'S NOTES: And here we see a little more about a particular enigmatic past victor. The purpose of this chapter, I suppose, is to serve as Amy's final turning point from a fence-sitter into... well, either a full-blown loyalist or a full-blown rebel. Time will tell.
Happy Reading!

CHAPTER 43: Jumping off the Fence

True to Clove's word, she and Amy later stopped at the home of Layla Aranai. Amy had done a little research on her over the last few months, and learned that she had lost two sisters to the games, and had been horrifically traumatized by her games due to the wiles of four particular tributes and several different kinds of mutts, but at the same time, she could not help but wonder what could have driven that poor girl so crazy? It reminded her about just how delicate most children were in that phase of their lives, and how no amount of training or tempering could make them immune.

She had her own demons and suffered from her own problems indeed, but she considered herself one of the lucky ones. Sure she was lonely with her parents in District 5 as Peacekeepers, and no real friends outside of the victor's pool (although some of the potential tributes at the academies had caught her eye at least once), but she was still mentally sound and not necessarily very reclusive. That had been the first time, by contrast, that she had ever properly met Katsuo and Kaede, and even by looking at them she could tell that they were a terribly messed up pair of siblings.

"Go away," they heard a woman's voice from inside the mansion as Clove knocked on the door. She kicked it open anyways to find herself inside a rather dimly lit mansion.

"Layla…" Clove called out, "it's just us victors. You can come out…"
A shaky, middle-aged woman probably around 60 years old appeared from behind one of the large columns. She was a small, thin little thing, definitely looking her age, although she seemed to have more grey hair that most people did. Her hollow eyes and gaunt expression told a lot about her, but at the same time, Amy could see that hers was the body of an old fighter—probably agile, deft, and dexterous.

"What… brings you here…" she asked them, sounding both tired and weak.

"We came here because of the general consensus that there is discontent in District 2," Clove explained, "and that this discontent stems from the victor village, and from people like you."
"I would gladly go… to the Capitol… and give them a piece of my mind!" Layla asserted, "but I suppose… that's not what you're here to invite me to do."
"I'm curious," Amy admitted, "what… exactly happened during your games?"

Layla glanced at the tiny girl, and noticed a glint in Amy's eye that reminded her of herself at that age nearly 50 years ago.

"Take a seat…" she told them, "let me get… a drink… and I will tell you… everything."

Layla returned a moment later, sitting across from Clove and Amy, with a bottle of what turned out to just be water. Amy was already considering 'taking a side' at this point, but on the other hand, she wanted to make sure that if there *was* a rebellion, that it was not just the radical actions of a fringe minority. In fine, she wanted to make sure that her stance was plausible and that it was backed by something—even if it was simply a story from a mysterious old victor. Amy's opinions changed as new information was revealed, after all.

"The 48th Hunger Games… that was where the grandson of the old victor Naisha Szasz was—he was my partner that year… I remember this now."

Amy glanced over at Clove, who looked equally serious. As Layla took a drink, she asked the older girl if she knew of any of this story.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Clove admitted, before Layla continued.
"Other than the arena playing on every tribute's fears with the erratic nighttime patterns, the gator-mutts, and the other unseen horrors that lurked in the shadows and tried maiming us in our sleep, four of the tributes were absolutely scary. There was a boy from '11 named Kamau who literally tore my partner in half near the end of the games. He was a gigantic beast of a man that also ended up killing a kid during the bloodbath by punching his chest in. I haven't seen anything like that since Smash from the 46th games."
"Pardon my curiosity…" Clove raised an eyebrow, "but… Smash?"

"She was an enormous District 11 girl from two years prior. '11 seems to have a record of producing stacked kids like that. But… I digress."
Layla took another gulp of water, which seemed to help keep her voice from cracking. "Kamau's partner, a girl named Kana, was equally as scary. What she lacked in size she made up for in frightening strength, and she could wield a hammer like most kids swing knives. She broke a kid's arm with her bare hands once, kind of like Chel did to that Iris kid a couple years ago."

"So who were the other two that were scary?" Amy asked, "I know that the District 11 pair from my games were a bit unnerving with whatever they did with those Night Witch things, but…"
"Oh goodness, those things *were* quite the fright…" Layla shuddered, "but as scary as District 11 was that year… District 12 was even scarier. The boy, Fenris, was unnerving because he was so erratic. There was no real telling what he would do, or when he would show up. I felt a wave of relief when we finally got him, but his partner…" Layla shuddered, clearly being reminded of some of her traumatic memories.

Amy and Clove went silent to give Layla a chance to recover. No victor liked being reminded of their traumatic memories, but at the same time, if there was anyone they could vent about them to, it was fellow victors, who had undergone similar horrors themselves.

"If there's anything that my games taught me," Amy noted, "it's that District 12 is no laughing matter. Say what you will about their victor's record, but they know things. They're up to something."
"That girl from District 12 my year was the scariest thing I ever ran into." Layla shuddered again, "she had it out for me, from the day she locked eyes with me on the hovercraft, to the final night where I struck her down. She was mute, but that just made her scarier. She was a master of subterfuge—bombs, grenades, blow-darts, knives… she could have been an assassin for all I know.

"She almost sounds like Monica—cold and ruthless, at least on the outside." Amy pointed out,
"Oh, I'm fairly certain this kid was a cold heartless war machine through and through." Layla countered, "Zefira Saratoga gave the career pack a hostile reminder about things they don't teach you in the training center—and they're there to help you remember that the Hunger Games are a vile, sadistic practice that can turn a career's adventure into a nightmare in a heartbeat—or at the throw of a knife."

As if to prove her point, Layla flipped on a television, switching moments later to some highlights of her games—the 48th Annual Hunger Games, and the dank, marshy arena that it took place in. Zefira was a little black-skinned girl with wild hair and what appeared to be tribal tattoos up her arms and parts of her legs, given that her pants were pulled up to her knees. What was the most interesting about this girl though was that she worked as a scout for her alliance, but also that she was able to craft all sorts of nefarious gizmos from grenades to smoke bombs. She used these tricks as well as her own stealth and poison darts to strike mortal dread into the hearts of the career pack, which she and her team nearly picked off one by one.

"And this, Amy… is why you've got people like Enobaria and Leto, who are so passionate against the Capitol." Layla explained, "Zefira and Monica were not very different in terms of whom they became—and both of them were District 12 girls who took 2nd place to a District 2 girl victor. Monica might have been putting on a see-through act, but do you see those kids?"
"Of course," Amy nodded, "and I think I know where this is going."
"That, Amy Zavala, is what District 12 is about." Layla affirmed, "Those rumors about them being rebels… they are all true, I am fairly certain."
"You set me up," Amy turned towards Clove as if to accuse her.

"We can't have you sitting on the fence forever, Zavala," Layla quipped, "Just because I am reclusive does not mean that I am oblivious. What happened to Katsuo and Kaede is not what happened to me. When the riots start across Panem… know that I will be among them."
Amy gave a slow nod. She had not necessarily been supportive of the Capitol, but she had not wanted to take risks one way or another when she felt that staying neutral would be the most advantageous. The Capitol would not have eyes on her, and the rebels would not accuse her of being a loyalist that stood in their way.

"Well," Amy noted, "clearly rebellion is coming then, aye?"
"Aye," Layla nodded, "District 2 is not by any means ready to join it, but give it time… I'm sure it will happen not only in your lifetime, but probably also in the next decade even."
"I'm glad I was able to meet you then, Layla Aranai." Amy shook the older woman's hand, "I might be the new kid on the block, but let it not be said that I wish to remain oblivious. I want to know what the rest of my fellow victors know, so that I can stand among them."
"Can't say I'd argue with that one, kid," Clove chuckled.

"And," Amy added, "If my fellow victors are going to stand against the Capitol… then so will I."

[Zulera301]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: And here is likely the end of the epilogue of this volume, as we have a slow lead-in to the 93rd Annual Hunger Games. We get to see another little cameo of a certain prominent character or two, and the potential of a relationship for Amy. However, much like the one before it, there is still plenty of development if they decide to go down that road. More than that though... rebellion! Either way, thanks to everyone who read it all.
Happy Reading!

CHAPTER 44: Sowing the Seeds

As the days wore on, and the 93rd Hunger Games began to draw nearer and nearer, Amy's confidence in her position remained firm, and similarly, her confidence in how she would perform as a mentor had not wavered. Every now and again, she would pay a visit to the training academies to check out the potential tributes, and see if any of them caught her eye as promising material. She had made a promise, after all, to bring home another District 2 victor for the 93rd Hunger Games, and that message was one that she intended to live up to, or do everything she could to try and make it happen.

While she often would go with Clove or Enobaria to these academies to observe and find amusement, this particular time, Amy decided to go alone. She, like other victors, was given pretty much free reign of their home district (within reason of course; in District 2 this was not much of a problem), since she lived off of the Capitol stipend and didn't have to work herself.

"Ah, Amy Zavala," one of the academy staff members exclaimed upon seeing Amy enter the building so freely. Much of the facility was a large, indoor training facility highly reminiscent of the one tributes saw in the Capitol, except not quite as modern and state-of-the-art. Still, the facilities that District 2 used were far from shabby, and considering the district's track record with tributes and victors, they were clearly doing plenty right.

"The one and only," Amy quipped in response.

"Are you here to spectate again?" the man asked her—he didn't look much older than 19 or 20.

"I figure that two of these chumps will eventually be under my care, so I might as well take a look at my options." Amy joked. She knew that she did not have an actual choice as to which tributes made it to the stage first, but she could put her hopes on one kid over another.

"I'm not sure I've ever seen you before though," the tiny girl continued, "what's your name?"
"Kada," the young man replied, "Kada Francisco. My sister and I used to train here religiously—she's still here actually, right over there."
He pointed to a light-skinned girl with the same long, auburn hair that he had, wielding a couple of training swords with great speed and efficiency. She floored the boy she was training against, and proceeded to also floor the trainer that had been 'fighting' her alongside that boy.

"That kid's good," Amy complimented, "what's her name?"

"Korra," Kada chuckled, "my sister's definitely a bit rock-headed, but don't tell her I said that."

"Korra Francisco…" Amy mused the name in her head for a while, "I want to spar with her—but first, I want to spar with you. Are you down?"
"Sure," Kada shrugged, as that Korra girl laughed triumphantly, "name your terms."

"Just you and me, right here," Amy indicated, "no shoes, no weapons… although if you have any of those gloves the Capitol's been giving tributes for a while, that might be nice."
"And hurt if you get slugged in the face," Kada chuckled, "I'll pass."
"I'm more worried about you," Amy riposted, "you don't need to worry about hitting a little girl. I'm a murderer, in case you don't remember, kid."

Kada was not sure how to react to being called 'kid' by a 14½-year-old girl, but he also respected Amy as a victor, knowing the kid had done things that he would never have to do.

"Let's just keep it friendly for now, huh?" Kada suggested, and surprisingly, Amy nodded.

"I'll try to not get too violent." Amy kicked off her shoes, curling her bare toes and crackling her knuckles. "Wanna pass me the tape?"

It wasn't actually tape, but Kada tossed her a roll of material that she started wrapping around her hands—a commonplace practice among sparring aspiring tributes. She tossed it to Kada once she was done, where the now shoeless boy did the same.

"At your ready," he called, and soon the two of them were striking at each other with their fists and feet. Kada was not a very tall young man, but he was solidly built, with a burly physique that matched his sister's. their little match ended up drawing a small crowd, including Kada's sister Korra, the brown-skinned boy she had been training with, the trainer that Korra had floored a moment ago, and a couple other boys and girls who were intrigued to see how well their newest trainers would fare against their newest victor.

It went on for a few short minutes before the tiny girl managed to knock Kada off his feet and point her fists at his face—a sign of her besting him. A moment later, she offered her hand, helping the larger man up and back onto his feet.

"Nicely done," he complimented her, "I suppose it's not surprising why you did so well in the 'games."
"oh, there's certainly more than just being able to spar well," Amy noted, shaking Kada's hand, "but it was a good spar—a nice way for me to stay alert, at least for a little."
In truth, Amy spent most of her free time honing her skills, since she and the other victors did not do a whole lot else apart from interaction with each other, and few people asked about the things they did.

"My pleasure," Kada smiled, "your games and the year before definitely showed Panem not to underestimate a tribute based on size."
"Celebrate diversity," Amy shrugged, glancing from Kada to his sister, "you would have stood a fighting chance, Kada. I think your sister's got what it takes too. A lot of you do."

Korra beamed at these compliments, and then glanced at Amy as if sizing her up.

"did you want a turn?" Amy offered, trying not to be ruse about it.

"I'm good," Korra declined, "one day though—I'll come home a victor and THEN I'll challenge you." She hopped on her feet as if to pump herself up.

"Believe me, kid," Amy smiled, "I wouldn't complain if you came home a victor—that'd just be another to add to our records."
Korra seemed to take slightly more offense at being called 'kid' than her older brother ironically, but she didn't say anything. In fact, before much else could be said, the doors of the academy swung open, and there in the doorway with her left foot still in the air from kicking the door open, was Clove.

She was a fairly popular figure here, considering that her still slightly cocky nature was something that many aspiring tributes looked to imitate.

"Clove!" Amy held out her arms, and surprisingly, the larger girl slapped her hands across Amy's back as she wrapped them around Amy's chest in a friendly embrace.

"you drugged up, didn't you?" she whispered into Clove's ear before they let go.

"Course," Clove smirked, "sheesh, I forget one time and that's all you think about."
"That girl was in the hospital for a week, Clove." Amy reprimanded her mentor.

While Amy had only planned on staying a couple of hours, Clove's presence changed her agenda a little bit, and it was late afternoon by the time they got out of there. Most of the other kids had dispersed or gone home by then, which left Clove and Amy walking down a fairly deserted street. None of the Peacekeepers paid them any attention other than the occasional friendly or respectful salute.

"You know what I've come to realize, Clove?" Amy raised an eyebrow,

"I saw you watching those Francisco kids," Clove quipped, "particularly Kada. Was it that, or your attraction to that boy?"
"Well that," Amy shrugged, "a girl can have a relationship, you know… but no. Mostly, this is about the whole Capitol thing."
"this should be good." Clove seemed to be leading them back towards the Victor Village

"With all the Peacekeepers that come and go from here—nearly half of the entire force, I've come to realize that District 2 could become a powerful force in a rebellion."
Amy thought of people like Layla, Katsuo, and Kaede, whose lives have been ruined and destroyed by the sadistic Hunger Games. She wondered how many others would suffer similarly before it was stopped, and that newfound drive was part of where Amy had taken her stance from.

"About time you caught on," Clove elbowed her, "Enobaria figured that one out years ago. But… why do you think we're so bent on getting District 2 to shake off its chains? See Amy—the problem with a Panem-wide war is that while some less significant districts like '10 or '9 could probably sit it out entirely and watch from the sideline while Panem burns, other districts would inevitably get dragged in. District 2 would be involved without question. Either we'd be fighting our friends from the Capitol's borders, or we'd be fighting the Capitol alongside the rebels. '2 is too key to not get involved in the war. What other districts can say the same?"

"'5." Amy answered, "you want to shut something down—go for their energy source. Also, I would say that '12 will be the one that finally shifts the balance."
"And if they level '12 before that?" Colve tilted her head.
"Maybe District 8," Amy shrugged, "But if '12 has people like Katniss, Ava, Monica, or Zefira in their ranks, then something tells me they'll be manipulating the status quo as much as they possibly can to tip the scales in their favor. They're crafty—very crafty. I've seen it myself, and half of us victors have had run-ins with kids from '12."

Clove briefly thought back to her own games, with Peeta Mellark and Primrose Everdeen. Sure, Rue Keniye had been by far the largest thorn in her side, but Clove had to admit that Amy had a point. District 12 had produced a nefariously crafty pair of tributes during Amy's games, and even Prim and Peeta had not been pushovers. Topped off with powerful victors like Katniss Everdeen and her 12-kill record, or cunning little Aveline Togisala from last year, and it was clear that the laughingstock of Panem was certainly no longer District 12.

"A fair point," the older woman chuckled, "I guess opposites really do attract in a way. We're the most loyal district, and they're the most rebellious. If you had asked me 15 years ago about a rebellion, I'd probably have just laughed and spit in your face."
"I wasn't even alive more than 15 years ago," Amy reminded her, "but you're right. we're very different."
"Some of those differences are why we fight, you know." Clove indicated.

"Would you be willing to put aside those differences, Clove?" Amy asked her.

"I'm Clove Kazera," Clove smirked as they passed the Victor Village threshold, "of course I am."

It's kind of crazy to think about," Amy glanced up at the sky for a moment, "but all of a sudden I also realize why I want to bring home another victor."
"You want to make a rebel out of him, don't you?" Clove smirked. "or her, I suppose. I don't think gender will play too big a part, as much as something like, say, personality would."

"Bingo," Amy smirked as they reached Clove's mansion, went inside, and popped open a few drinks as Clove pulled out a pack of cards. "the board is set, and the pieces are in motion."
"As it should be," Clove raised a glass, "the 93rd Hunger Games will be far more than just games this time. Of that I have no doubt…"
Amy smirked at Clove's words, nodding in agreement as they drained their glasses. The seeds of rebellion were being sown, and an undertaking was beginning that they knew could not be undone.

[Zulera301]

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I know that I said I was done for reals with chapter 44, but being a sucker for character development the way I am, I felt that this was a nice little addition and a reminder of the losses that victors suffer. I also got to introduce a couple of characters that deserved a bit of screen time given the loss of their child in the 'games, and so there's also that. Otherwise, I feel like the ending in particular was a nice way to wrap things back up, but maybe that's just me. Kudos to anyone still with me so far, and by all means, let me know what you thought of this chapter or the story.
Happy Reading!

CHAPTER 45: Healing Scars

Some wounds simply never healed—it was a brutal truth that many Hunger Games victors knew by heart. The pain might ebb away over time, but often times even the scars still hurt when they were touched, almost as if the wound has not ever fully closed.

Roland and Valerie Romero knew these pains well after the loss of their heroic son Marcus in the games. Incidentally, Amy paid them many visits, leaving her mansion in the Victor Village and often heading to their place with a pie or some other baked confections in tow. One of the things Amy had started doing since winning the games was cooking and baking, and while she knew that she could never mend the gaping hole in the heart of Marcus' parents, that she could at least try to console them. After all—she was the only person who was still alive that had witnessed Marcus' death, and in truth, even months later, Amy still missed him sorely.

Amy was lonely. On one hand, Clove, Enobaria, and a few of the other victors made for good company sometimes, but at the same time, the emotions that Amy sought so desperately after were often just not there. That had been one of her biggest trials in the games. To be able to laugh and cry so passionately as some did—Amy longed for that feeling again. There were times when she would in fact cry herself to sleep or even laugh really hard at some quip or gag Clove did or whatnot, but these episodes were often painfully short-lived for whatever reason. Despite being surrounded by friends, as well as her parents, both of whom were alive and well, Amy felt lonely and bereft. The fact that her parents spent most weeks out of the year working in District 5 as peacekeepers didn't help her situation, and so she often found comfort with the Romeros.

Even District 2 had a part of the district set apart to remember the fallen tributes of their games. Even with their large victor's pool, there were still 170 stones and markers symbolizing all of the boys and girls that had not emerged as victors—boys and girls that had likely been taught all their life that the greatest achievement they could ever perform was volunteering for and then winning these sadistic Hunger Games. Amy looked back at that past mistake with a great deal of regret.

When she wasn't with the Romeros, she was often at the training academies talking to Kada; the Victor Village with her fellow victors, or at the District 2 Memorial division, at the graves of some of the old District Heroes. Today she was at the latter of these locales. To her slight surprise, Clove was already there, in front of a marker that she was almost certain belonged to Cato.

"Welcome back," she turned her head, before bending back down towards Cato's grave, "you here to pay respects to your old battle-buddies?"

"Yup," Amy grunted, noticing that in the brief moment Clove had faced her, that the older victor's freckled face was rather pink. "I take it you're here for Cato?"
"Who else?" Clove sighed, "He was my Marcus, pretty much—not quite as goofy, but still a reliable friend when all was said and done."
"Well, you did build monuments of Marcus and Chel that now stand outside the Justice Building," Amy reminded her, "your masonry is top-notch."

"I wanna know how you do it, kid." Clove shook her head, "how do you stay so firm? You're as stoic as the kids before the games."
"Do I really come off that way?" Amy tilted her head.

"Well, you do to this mentally deranged woman here," Clove quipped. "I'm sure as hell not saying I'm weak or anything, but I've come to accept my mental instability. You on the other hand, just cross your arms and purse your lips and observe. That takes guts, kid."

"If only it was that easy…" Amy sighed, stepping over to Clove and kneeling next to her, "I'm far from unaffected by the games, Clove."
"Oh, I know that much," Clove admitted to Amy's surprise, "just that it seems like out of all of the emotional issues a victor could have, rigid stability would seem higher up there."
"Except it's not," Amy frowned, "Ever since that night in the arena, I've wished that I could laugh or cry the way the rest of you do. It just doesn't make sense to me, Clove. What's wrong with me?"
"A lot of this shit doesn't make sense," Clove shook her head, "It's not about what wrong with you, Amy. It's about what happened to you. Marcus was a jovial guy as anyone who knew the man understood. Chel the year before was the same way. I don't think anyone here was as close of friends to him as you were, or like Ava was to Chel the year before. You weren't the only one aware of the relationship the two of you made."
"I loved him." Amy sighed. "And I'd give anything to have him back in my life."

Clove sighed. "would it that it was that easy, huh?" she mumbled.

Tears began congregating in Amy's eyes, and she turned to Clove. "No matter what happens… let me cry, alright?" she begged, "I need to…" she trailed off, gripping Clove's waist as she began to cry. It was a strange feeling—one that she had not felt at all during her games, or even afterwards. It was different, and it hurt in all the right ways. It was like taking a nasty old bandage off of a dirty old wound and finally cleaning it off. She knew that this was not some sort of magical universal cure-all, but it was a refreshing 5-7 minutes of being able to let her trapped emotions out. She only wished that she could do this more often, and perhaps be able to laugh a few times too.

"Thanks, Clove…" she sighed. "I owe you one."

"Pfft," Clove snorted, "you're the kid who keeps me on my rails. If anything, this is just payback for all the times I owe you. Don't worry about it too much, Amy. There's no reason to keep track or anything."

"Still…" Amy wiped a few stray tears from her cheek, "thanks."

"Any time," Clove shook her head, ruffling Amy's hair. Clove remained at Cato's grave for a while as Amy went back to glance at the two that were next to each other from the years before.
"Marcus Romero, 92nd Hunger Games", and "Chel Colorado, 91st Hunger Games" were the inscriptions that greeted her (followed by "Chaco Haden, 91st Hunger Games, leading back into the 90th, 89th, and so on), and she sighed.

"I miss you, you great stupid oaf…" Amy sighed, reaching her hand out as she laid flowers down at the gravesites. "I wish you were here."
A few moments later, she got back up and noticed that her old mentor had done the same, which in turn prompted them to return home. Clove followed Amy back to the Victor Village, where the two parted ways at their respective houses.

Once Amy was alone again, she knew what she needed to do. She raced for her kitchen and began throwing ingredients together in a large bowl before firing up her oven. She was going to make cookies.

As odd as this might have sounded, it was one of a few ways Amy expressed her gratitude to the Romero family for the time she had been able to spend with their son in the games and the academies. She didn't feel like any of it was her fault, for she had not been forced to kill Marcus, and frankly, Monica's arrow could have very well been aimed at her instead. She certainly knew that Monica wouldn't have been able to drag someone as huge as Marcus towards the electric maze walls as easily as someone tiny like Amy.

Given her (seemingly, at least) good standing with the Capitol, Amy was actually fairly well-liked by the Peacekeepers in the district, who were actually fairly friendly in a loyal district like '2. One of them even stopped Amy as they saw her walking to offer her a ride.

"Back to the Romeros, are you?" he asked. Amy simply nodded, mentally noting that some of her actions were so habitual that others became aware of them. On the other hand, it was not like she had very much of anything to hide.

A quick ride later, and she was knocking on their front door. Their home was not nearly as large as the Victors' Mansions, but it was still a fairly sizeable abode nonetheless.

Perhaps it was an attempt to make up for the child they lost, but given the repeated (albeit necessary) absences of Amy's parents, and the absence of Roland and Valerie's son thanks to the games, the three of them almost had a little family setup going.

The trio got to talking about various subject, with Amy listening to them reminisce about Marcus, and Amy telling them about what an amazing friend he had been. It was difficult, but assuring, to have conversations like this. On one hand, his death was something that admittedly none of them would have wanted, but at the same time, the Romeros knew that the girl they were talking to would be dead if their son had returned home, which in turn slightly conflicted them, especially with the attachment they now had with the tiny brown-skinned girl.

On the other hand, they were a nice reminder of a simple but powerful truth that Amy had watched in Chel Colorado's games the year before her own. It was better to think back on all the good memories a person made in their life than to dwell miserably on their death. Amy actually cracked a smile as she thought about Marcus' witty quips and how he could make a joke out of anything. While she was on this mood high, Valerie actually told a string of jokes and tricks that Marcus had slung when he was Amy's age, which, to Amy's utmost surprised, caused her to actually erupt into a fit of laughter.

"Damn!" she shook her head, "he actually said and did that?" she could picture Marcus doing those things with utmost ease, and even the thought nearly put the tiny girl into conniptions.

"That… oh my gosh, thank you so much…" tears were all but flowing down Amy's face again, except that these were mirthful tears. It was almost as if the fates had decided that today was her day of overcoming her emotional barriers. She did not think that this was a permanent change, and knew full well that this was not a cure for her scars, but it was a nice, painkilling sense of relief that came over her, and one that she cherished.

"I owe you a pie next time," she smiled as she prepared to leave a few minutes later after the mirthful conversation had died down. "Don't let me forget…"

For one of the first times in a long time, a smile appeared on Amy's face that was not just a smirk or a sarcastic expression. She knew that it might have been short-lived, but it still felt rather nice to be able to laugh and cry at least for a moment.

Sure enough, by the time she had reached her next destination—the training academy—her face had straightened again. Her mood was still high; she just wasn't laughing and smiling like she had been before. The man she was looking for here—Kada Francisco, was not quick to notice the difference in Amy's demeanor, however.

"Someone's happy," he smirked. He was just getting off for the day it seemed.

"Today was a good day, Kada." She explained, "I laughed, I cried… I got to feel emotions again. I know that doesn't sound like much, but to me—to someone who has been bereft of such feelings for months now? It felt euphoric. It felt amazing. I would give anything to feel like that again more often."

"I'm not going to lie and say I know the machinations of your mind as well as I'd like Amy…" Kada sighed, "but I do owe you a thanks for at least giving me a chance to learn."
"There's not much to teach other than what I've already told ya," Amy shrugged. "still… just… thank you for being here."
It seemed small and meaningless for them to just walk up to each other like that, but really, a soft embrace and a few comforting words could go a long way with traumatized victors. Kada ran his hands through Amy's hair, holding the tiny girl close, and silently reminding her that she was not in fact crazy. She had her demons and her problems, and the games had obviously knocked her down a bit—just like they did to anyone who survived them—but perhaps most importantly of all was that despite all of that, Amy Mezkiel Zavala was not broken—nor would she allow herself to be.