Chapter Text
Action!: Voltaea
Everything is moving too fast today. Voltaea gives up on trying to make sense of anything before they’ve even finished breakfast. Alara hasn’t let go of her since they woke up, not that she’s acknowledged it out loud - she’s been babbling about strategy non-stop this whole time. I knew she could talk a lot, but this much? Does she ever stop to breathe? If she does, I haven’t noticed. It doesn’t help that her head is throbbing. “Sorry darling, we can’t get a patch on you until you’re in the tombs with Anton - they’ll be checking you over too closely. But he’ll get you settled as soon as he can.” - Alara’s words had tasted especially bitter as she watched her snort a hefty dose of the powdered stims. They’d even argued, ending in her mentor agreeing to let her have a small dose to sharpen her edges just before she leaves - “But it has to wait until the last minute, I don’t want you crashing in the middle of the bloodbath.”
Orville chirps around the table, busying himself with arranging plates of food and listing off endless sponsor names that mean absolutely nothing to Voltaea. In contrast to everyone else’s chatter, both tributes sit near-silently, shoveling as much as they can muster into their mouths with the unspoken knowledge hanging between them that this might be the last decent meal either ever eats - Fuck, I hope it isn’t mine. She drowns the thought in a long swig of black coffee - Ugh. Gross. If I live long enough to have another cup, I should remember to use sugar.
Alara had explained at least three times now that they’d only be able to stay together as far as the landing platform, at which time the hovercrafts would show up to whisk Voltaea off to the arena. She’d also explained, at least as many times, that the landing platform is only a ten minute walk through the tunnels out of the Tribute Tower. And at least once, she had told her that there would be no time to linger when they arrived.
As they near the exit to the tunnel, entangled with each other, Voltaea realizes that she could have been warned a thousand times and it still wouldn’t have prepared her for how little time it would actually take to get there. I can’t slow it down - The world feels like it’s speeding up around her the closer they get. It speeds up even more when Alara stops and holds a tiny, bullet-shaped device to her nose and tells her to sniff. The throbbing in her head subsides and her mind blazes to life as the stims rapidly take effect. I don’t want to leave - she steps out onto the platform, the bright midmorning sunlight nearly blinding her after so much time spent in the dimness of Alara’s suite the last few days. It’s so loud, It’s so bright, I want to go back, I hate this - The sun is overwhelming enough on its own, but the added storm of noise from the landing hovercraft nearly drives her to scream.
Everything is suddenly warmer - Alara wraps tightly around her - I don’t want her to let go. She’s saying something - Voltaea can hear the music of it - Can’t make out the words , “What?” She can’t tell if she’s projecting her voice over the roar of the hovercraft.
A hand grabs the back of her head and pulls it downward until Alara’s lips are right next to her ear - “Promise you’ll come back to me?”
I hope so. “I promise.”
“And you’ll still be mine?” This time the words come choked through tears.
So long as you’re still mine. “Always.”
A different, much firmer set of hands plant themselves on Voltaea’s shoulders and yank her backwards - “I wasn’t done!” Thrashing doesn’t help, especially not when a second Peacekeeper enters the mix and restrains her by the arms, dragging her to the hovercraft. “I love you!” Alara is yelling something she can’t hear again - not thrashing, just sobbing - A single uniformed officer leads her off by the arm, though she rips it away after a few moments and shouts something at him. He doesn’t grab it again - not that she can see before they make their way up the ramp and it begins to shut behind them.
There’s no sun here, at least - They drag her down a narrow corridor and shove her into a room with a large number 5 on the door. Inside there are two seats, facing each other on either side of the entryway. Coulomb already occupies the one on the left, strapped in by a four-pointed seatbelt - he waves, but there’s no smile on his face today. He moves his mouth like he’s talking - He is talking, listen! The noise of the engines is quieter in here, but her ears still buzz with static so loud she can’t make anything out. She shakes her head at him, shrugs, then plops into the seat and sets to work figuring out the harness. Once she’s strapped in, the static seems to subside enough that she tries to speak - “Okay, sorry, what did you say?”
“I said they’ll be by right after we take off with the trackers!” He yells out loud enough to make her ears start ringing again - Ok, yeah, I can definitely hear now.
The engine roar picks up once again, the cacophony of rattles and clangs of the metal frame vibrating make up a chaotic beat beneath it. Coulomb doesn’t try to speak again until they’re in midair - or what she assumes is midair, anyway, with the lack of windows making it difficult to tell. “Are you scared?”
Of course I am, I’m terrified, I want to go home, I don’t want to be alone like this - Voltaea gives him a half-true answer instead; “As long as we stick to the plan, there shouldn’t be anything to be scared of. Today, anyway.” Apart from the other tributes. And the Gamemakers. And the mutts. Exposure, maybe? That depends on the weather. Dehydration is a big one. Infection. starvation. What else - hm…
Her worrying is interrupted by the arrival of a hooded, white-coated figure with a mirrored face mask, bearing a tray with two syringes. Coulomb’s goes in first. He tries to look strong, but as soon as he sees how big the needle is up close all of the blood drains from his face and he slumps lifelessly to the side. Fainter. That could be an issue. After the figure rouses him, satisfied after he manages to state his name, it turns to Voltaea.
Getting her tracker injected is much more drawn out, on account of the scar tissue on her arm. The figure tries stabbing three different places before it finally finds one that lets the needle deep enough to insert it properly. Determined not to make a scene like her District partner, she clenches her teeth together and stares unblinking at her own reflection in the figure’s mask until the process is over. Her eyes look a bit different - glassy, red-tinged at the edges - she still finds it brings her some comfort to confirm to herself that she’s still alive. For now - no, I can’t be thinking like that right now. It’s like I told Coulomb, stick to the plan.
Deep breaths, in-out, what do I need to do? In the last several days she feels like she’s learned a lot - it’s just that half of it isn’t going to be any good in a fight, unless there’s nudity involved. The bloodbath plan is simple enough - Sarah and I go towards the fight, the other two run away and signal us later. Oh yeah! We’re going to need - “Hey!” Coulomb blinks several times and looks in her direction, still shaking off the haze - “When you’re looking for high ground, make sure you’re taking water into account. If it’s near a source, that’s better for us.” He gives her a nod and a thumbs up, head still lolling over to the side with a distant look in his eyes. If he gets himself killed today…
Shoving that thought back into the depths of her mind, she turns back to planning - I have to see Anton still. He’s going to give me Alara’s gift. Do I just tear it apart to get at the next dose? Does she not realize how suspicious that’s going to look?! “V, how long do you think we’ll be in the air for?” Coulomb breaks her focus - it takes every ounce of restraint she has not to chastise him for it - That’s just going to make him more nervous. Her own nerves are still blazing, muscles itching to move - At least I’ll be ready to run. I hope.
She realizes Coulomb is still staring at her, waiting for an answer - “I mean, they keep that a secret, so…” Voltaea can’t muster anything but an unsatisfactory answer and a shrug. The boy bursts into tears - Shit! I can’t listen to this now! She tunes her ear to the sound of the hovercraft and slams her eyes shut. Eventually, his muffled sobs fade into the background of noise. Not another word passes between them until there’s a shift in the scream of the engines - Does this mean… but we haven’t been in the air that long, have we? “How long have we been moving for?”
It’s his turn to shrug - “I don’t have my watch, they don’t give our tokens back ‘till we get there.”
“Best guess?”
“Hmm. Maybe an hour? I don’t really know V, I’m bad at time. That’s why dad got me the watch in the first place.” he suddenly slams into the back of his seat as the hovercraft lurches midair.
The sensation sends her stomach spinning - she shuts her eyes again and grabs her harness - It’s like we’re falling. Even as the movement smooths out, it still makes her feel awful - Like my head is going to explode from the pressure and I can’t find solid ground. Voltaea doesn’t know peace again until they touch down and the engines switch off, leaving behind a static noise and ringing in her ears. Both exchange a look - Coulomb quivering, holding back tears. Voltaea doesn’t know what she looks like right now just that her fingers won’t stop tapping against her thighs. Calm. Collected. FUCK, I just want to go home!
Schk - Before she can scream, the doors open - more mirrored masks, more white coats. There’s three of them this time. One motions for Coulomb to unhook his harness, beckoning him to follow. As Voltaea fumbles with her own belt, the other two figures loom on either side of her - she stands, they grab hold just as quickly. A part of her wants to fight - Not now, save it for the arena. The boy and his escort walk ahead of her, down the ramp they entered through, even further on a flight of stairs just outside the craft. Voltaea doesn’t get a chance to look behind her and see what sort of environment they’re in - but it’s humid here, ugh.
As they descend down the concrete staircase, it becomes less oppressive, giving way entirely to the same sort of perfectly warm, comfortable air that flows through every building in the Capitol - That I’ve been in, anyway. It’s a small relief, overshadowed by the growing itch at the back of her teeth - We have to be close now. They reach the bottom, led down separate hallways - “Good luck, V!” Coulomb calls out over his shoulder, voice chipper but shaky with fear.
“Run fast!” Is all she can think to say in return - Don’t die sounded too grim in my head.
With the absence of other footsteps, she tunes in to the buzzing of the lights overhead - actually not too loud, for the style they’re using. Tolerable. There’s no more time to think about lights when they arrive at a locked door, one of the figures releasing her to punch in an access code on the keypad next to it. Beep - It slides open, they shove her inside - Click! This is it. “Heyyyyy!” Anton draws out the last vowel with a flourish - “Look who’s here! I have your outfit ready to go. They said we’d have around fifteen minutes once you came in, plenty of time to get dressed and fired up!”
It takes her three minutes to slip on the clothes. They’re surprisingly comfortable - I don’t know how I’d cope if they weren’t . The entire ensemble is the same jet-black as their training outfits had been - T hese might even be the same cargo pants. The top part is two layers, an outer jacket made of a slick-feeling material, and an undershirt made of a looser-fitting, breathable fabric. The boots seem practical - nice grip on the treads. Shiny, though - They rise a couple inches above her ankle. Anton motions for her to twirl once she’s dressed, then gives her a thumbs up - “If looks could kill, ugh!” before rummaging around in his pocket to produce Alara’s handkerchief. “So, you’ve got one patch in each of these little squares - just rip the seams out when you need one, and voilà!”
All she can do once it’s in her hands is stare - This is hers, I still have a piece of her. When she holds it up to get a closer look at the initials on the corner, she notices the smell - Smoky, floral, hers… I have to get back there. She closes her eyes, breathing it in, forgetting Anton’s presence entirely until he says something that shatters any resolve she’d built on the ride over in one swoop - “I can’t even imagine what it’s like to have to separate from someone you love like that,” - Excuse me?
“What?” She opens her eyes and whips around to look at him.
“Oh, gods, sorry! I didn’t mean to make it all gloomy! You guys are just so, ugh! I don’t know, intense? Whatever it is, I'm living for it.” Voltaea’s head buzzes with static, louder by the second - What do you know about that?! He only stops talking for a moment, shifting uncomfortably side to side, too uncomfortable with the silence to keep his mouth shut - “The good news is that you’re trending at number one right now! So you’re definitely bringing in that sponsor cash, love that for you by the way! I’m not allowed to donate because of the stupid rules but I really want you to win!! Do you know what it would do for my career to have a victor my first time styling?! Ugh, I love you girl, you’ve been such a…”
Her words finally catch up to the first part of what he just said - “What do you mean by trending?”
“Oh, I mean online,” Why does everyone keep saying that word?! The lady last night did too, what does that even mean? “-and not just on the gossip forums, but like, everywhere ! I mean you guys took such good pictures that they basically shared themselves-”
“ WHAT PICTURES?! ” She hadn’t meant to scream, she couldn’t think of another way to hear herself over the buzzing in her brain - Voltaea tries to breathe but her chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. Th-thump - Off-beat, too much noise, fuck!
Anton’s smile collapses in an instant. The space where his eyebrows should be scrunches as he swears under his breath - “ Oh shit. ” He slaps a hand over his mouth and screams another obscenity into it. Voltaea feels her breakfast threaten to make a comeback and bites back the bile. Finally, he’s composed enough to say - “I didn’t know you didn’t know! Alara didn’t say that at all when she gave me the files to leak last night, and I-”
Nothing he says after Alara’s name matters to her - the guttural scream she cuts him off with echoes off every wall in the room and makes her ears ring louder. All she can do to stop herself is ask a question she’s already figured out the answer to - “SHE TOOK PICTURES OF US?! And then SHOWED PEOPLE?!” Did I do something wrong? Does she hate me? I thought she loved me, why would she do this - why would she - FUCK! NO! That means my mother is going to see pictures of us… um - She takes a deep breath, tries to calm herself enough to ask something she hasn’t figured out but desperately needs to know - “What were the pictures of?” Anton bites his lower lip - “Tell me!”
He holds up his hands and shakes his head - “Nothing bad, really, I swear! I mean there’s some kissing, a little bit of heavier touching - but you’re both dressed! I mean, that would have been a whole other mess, but with this at least - uh - half the news coverage is positive for you two…”
The ringing in her ears is more like a fire alarm now, it drowns out the entirety of the hearing on her left side. TH-thump - her heartbeat thunders rapidly, no rhythm she can find to it. Hot tears burn down her cheeks, she shakes her head to chase them off but can't. Screams. Digs her nails into her scar - Everyone is going to hate me, Alara hates me, I might as well just die. “I thought she loved me…”
“Ohmygods, stooooopppp!” Anton steps forward, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her - Somehow, that makes it easier to stop the tears. When he speaks again, his voice is a bit calmer, though still tinged with frustration - “Ugh, I know this seems crazy - I thought it was crazy - but she said it was for a good reason! To help you, somehow, I don’t know. I know she said she’d die if anything happened to you, if that makes you feel any better?”
Then why would she embarrass me like this?! “I don’t…” Her nails dig into her scar hard enough to break skin - My family is going to hate me when they find out.
The hands on her shoulders squeeze tightly “Okay, Breathe through your nose -”
She realizes she’s been holding a breath and lets it out, trying to force a few more deep ones in while her mind is on it - “Breathing.”
Anton locks eyes with her, voice sterner than she’s ever heard it - “You have to get it together and go in there, we’re almost out of time. Don’t even think about this.”
Don’t think about it?!? “How can I-”
“Just focus on the fact that she loves you. I mean, even if she hadn’t said it, it’s pretty clear she’s completely obsessed to literally anyone with eyes. You can ask her what the hell she was thinking when you win, okay?” She… I… what if… ugh… Voltaea nods. Her thoughts are too scattered to say anything. Was any of it real? If I die before I get the chance to ask…
A static crackle overhead precedes a somehow familiar male voice booming over the speakers - I’ve heard this before. In past broadcasts. Oh no. - “Tributes, please step onto your platform. You have sixty seconds.”
Anton is already pushing her onto the metallic platform, rounded glass surrounding all but one side - “Oh! One more thing -” he fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a familiar looking packet and tears it quickly with his teeth. “For you- sorry, gotta get close for a sec-” He slides his hand around the back of her neck and sticks the patch just under the collar of her jacket. “There! So you have twenty-one more in that - Put that in your pocket!” He grabs her wrist, guiding the hand still clutching the handkerchief into the topmost pocket of her pants before sealing the top flap. “If you drop that, after everything we went through - I can’t even think about it!”
“Thirty seconds-” WHY IS TIME MOVING SO FAST NOW?!
“I’m so bad at goodbyes - good luck!” Anton takes a step back, tears in his eyes, clutching his hands to his heart - “I’m telling everyone I know to bet on you, okay?” She still can’t speak.
The glass starts moving , closing her in the circular chamber and sealing with a faint hiss . This is it. This is what all those nights in the library were for. This is what Alara trained me for. I have to… fuck… I have to make her proud. I have to know what made her do this. I have to SCREAM at her. I have to hold her. I have to - The voice from the speaker is saying something she can't make out in a consistent rhythm, it breaks her train of thought. Please let this have been real.
The platform lurches, then starts slowly lifting her upward - she sees Anton waving at her and gives a faint one in return. I have to win. It’s the slowest time has felt to her all day - the lift passes into a solid, dark tunnel. I have to survive the bloodbath. She tries to search her mind for anything she can remember about the other tributes, winning strategies, past games - all that she can pull together is her plan with Sarah. Run for the cornucopia. Grab something useful. Try not to die on the way out. Something else hits her as the first hints of light peek into the top of the glass - With how I scored, they’ll have left something for me. Grab that.
The light’s too dim - That’s what hits her first - Are we indoors? She stands up on her toes to see outside sooner but nearly loses her balance - Nope. Don’t do that. Don’t fall. The platform finally rises enough that she can peek out and see herself - and everyone else. Find where my allies are. - rising from the ground into what she finds, to a brief flash of excitement, she was correct to assume was an indoor space.
This looks like one of the storage warehouses back in Five… just… bigger. She can see better now, the ground about waist height. Corrugated metal walls and a high, vaulted ceiling held up by a system of steel rafters make up most of the structure. Most of the room is full of dull, rusted-looking shipping containers - Like the ones they pull off the freight trains when we get supply shipments . The cornucopia itself seems to be made of the same material as the containers - though it looks as if they’ve taken one of every color to warp and reshape into a jagged, cave-like structure with supplies clustered densely at the center. There! Just outside the mouth is a large duffel bag, unzipped to show - Well, I can’t make everything out . What she can make out is a coil of the same kind of wire she was using at the trapping station. Lying on the ground next to the bag is a set of screwdrivers. She almost laughs. It’s not far from Sarah’s present, either - A set of throwing axes, heads poking out of a backpack, with another larger wood-axe leaning against the Cornucopia’s outer wall nearby. We run. We grab our stuff. We leave.
There’s a dim, yellow-tinted light - just one light for the whole room? - a circular shape, about as big around as the Cornucopia itself and hanging directly above it. Rather than provide any decent visibility, it seems mostly designed to cast ominous shadows off every bladed angle of the Cornucopia that it catches.
What is this place? She’s risen high enough that only her legs below the knee are still underground. Focus! What else is important!? There’s four, barn-door style exits that she can see - one on each wall, though she can’t make out anything about what’s going on outside of them - it just looks dark? She’s not sure if it’s a feature of the terrible lighting, or if there’s some other indoor space she has to pass through to get out of here. Where is everyone, anyway? She spots Sarah first, her distinctive ginger hair tamed into a half-ponytail that keeps it out of her face - Eight platforms to the right, not close, but not as far as we could be. Coulomb, she sees next - Complete opposite side. Where’s Bash- Oh! Right next to him. That’s a lucky break. Definitely makes their job easier.
The platform comes to a halt - The glass drops around her - Don’t move yet, wait for the countdown. “Sparky!” Sarah’s voice booms out - almost every head in the room turns to look at her, Voltaea’s included - LOUD! She’s moving her hands - it takes a second to recognize it as Coulomb’s code - ‘Escape, North from Me, Allies.’ She’s spotted the boys, and she wants to use the exit behind them… I think?
She gives a quick thumbs up to Sarah before pointing out in gesture-form where the supplies she wants to prioritize are. Cough-cough-cough - before her ally can answer, Voltaea whips around to her left to find the source of the coughing. Two platforms in that direction stands a girl - District Six, still sick . Too loud. That’s when she notices Cymbria, another two spaces away on the other side of the coughing girl - She sees me too. And she looks very calm about all of this. The girl from One returns her stare, with a small wave - I hope that truce is intact.
“Sixty seconds” She snaps her focus to Cornucopia. There’s that voice. Alright, Voltaea. Don’t die. Not before you have a chance to - COUGH! - again?! She can’t help but toss a searing glare in the loud, sickly girl’s direction. Stop being so distracting! “Fifty seconds.” I have too much to figure out, I have too much to do, I have - COUGH-cough-cough-sniff! Her teeth itch every time the sound interrupts her - Could you NOT!? - COUGH! - Damnit! Voltaea clenches her jaw and turns back to the center of the room, trying to drown out the awful noise in static. COugh-COUGH! - There’s something that sounds like retching - IF YOU DON’T STOP DISTRACTING ME, I SWEAR TO EVERY FUCKING GOD I’LL KILL YOU FIRST -
Voltaea whips her head around to shout at the - loud, gross, awful, obnoxious, distracting - District Six girl in earnest - "Forty seconds.” - just she loses her balance and tumbles face-first off the platform. Oh fu-
BOOM! - There’s a flash that rattles the entire building, a cloud of dust blasts forth from the ground as soon as District Six hits the dirt. Ringing, so much ringing, so much screaming - a wet, hard chunk smacks her in the cheek and falls - she catches it without thinking. What the - She holds it up towards the light for a better look - Is that an ear?! - “Thirty seconds.” - Shit. Is that me screaming?