Hunger Games: All-Stars

Chapter 27

I usually do at least one chapter about random Capitol happenings and this time it fit perfectly with two planned story arcs.

Miall Piscot POV

There was only one thing good about Sky winning the last Games. It made it impossible for her to hide. Sure enough, I found her on the District Five floor in the Victor's Lounge with Erwin. I'd intended to see her alone, which was why I attacked at night, but Erwin wasn't a hero.

"You mind? We have some business," I said to Erwin. Sky looked up, saw me, jumped, and stared at Erwin pleadingly.

"Sounds serious. You might need a neutral party," he said, and he made no move to leave. Whatever. As long as he didn't interfere.

"It's not easy having blood on your hands, is it?" I asked Sky. She glanced around the room, assuring herself of the hidden cameras that would surely send help if she needed. I knew they would, but I could get a lot done in very little time.

"I trained for this. Looks like it just came naturally to you. More naturally than it did to my sister," I continued.

"I'm sorry," Sky said. She seemed resigned, like she already knew everything I was saying was true.

"You're sorry? There's no 'sorry' in murder. Do you think that makes any difference?" I said. I was shaking in rage and my fists ached in tension. Sky's features hardened as tears started to flow.

"Maybe I lost someone too. Her name was Electra. She was kind and funny-" her voice broke "and you killed her just like I killed your sister. We're all murderers."

"I think you're missing the point. You killed my sister," I repeated.

"Bet you never thought you would say that, did you?" my sister's voice came from behind me. I turned and saw Priscilla leaned against the door.

"Yeah, I knew you were going to do this. Charging off to rescue your sister. You're a bit late. I already died," she said. She seemed amused by all this.

"I couldn't just let her go," I said. Better late blood than never. Priscilla waved her hand.

"It doesn't matter. She just got what we all wanted," she said.

"There will be plenty more for you to kill," Sky said. Priscilla interrupted me before I could respond.

"Yeah, just pretend they're her."

"Stop it, Sky," Erwin said. "He might go after ours. I don't want to deal with the revenge twins." I tried to lunge at him, but Priscilla stopped me. She stopped me cold.

Farlon Harlon POV

I never thought I'd see the day. Frankie Disney, the colossus of Eleven, found me and a bunch of our allies at a table and asked how to get a girl. Well, he more of announced it.

"I'm going to date Vera. How do I do that?" he asked. Yasmine gawked, Timber did a double take, and Thompson and Shogo laughed.

"Woah there, cowboy. Have you even asked? She might say no," Shogo said. Frankie looked at him.

"Teach me," he said. And chaos reigned. People broke into groups, shouted suggestions, and talked over each other.

"Whyte's not going to like this," Kazuo said.

"Chicks dig bad boys," Thompson offered.

"Not me," Celestial said.

"Hold it!" I yelled over everyone. "I think we can all agree on one thing. You got to have the look. And I know the look."

Creme Brulee didn't know what to think when fifteen Tributes stormed his salon shoving Frankie in front of them. His expression made up for Frankie's lack.

"Can you hook our man up with some new threads? He's got a date," I said. Every shred of confusion vaporized as joy lit Creme's face like a blowtorch.

"A date?! You old tomcat! You've come to the right place."

There was one more thing we all agreed on: none of us agreed on what Frankie should look like. Yasmine insisted on "tons of tattoos". That was vetoed by the rest of us and a faceful of temporary ink was scrubbed off in favor of Kazuo's vision of a "dreamy prince". Frankie endured a facial, three dye jobs, a manicure, limp plumper, smoky eyes, gobs of glitter, a purple leisure suit, a pint of perfume, and a weave at various stages. In the end, it all sort of evened out. Yasmine and Celestial both insisted that as girls, they knew all ladies loved a tux. Creme picked a white one to match Frankie's dark skin and he looked sharp as a needle. He went with classic gold makeup with a spark of glitter above the eyes and a sleek, slicked-back hairstyle. I couldn't have done it better myself.

"You look great!" Yasmine said.

"Fancier than any cake I've ever seen," Reiner said with an unsure look.

"Are you sure about this?" Frankie said. He examined himself in a mirror.

"You're gonna need a present. Girls dig flowers. Big ol' roses," Thompson said. And it began anew.

Vera Busattil POV

Whyte was still being a baby. I stole his cigarettes and he threw me out of the room. That boy needed to get his head out of his butt before someone else handed it to him. I'd just gotten back to my room when someone knocked on the door.

"Who is- what is this?" It looked sort of like Frankie, if he got run through a bedazzling factory and clobbered by the glitter fairy. I wasn't even sure he could see under all that makeup.

"I have come to be your boyfriend," Frankie said. "Here are your flowers." he handed me a rainbow bouquet of roses.

"I'm glad you let me know," I said. Frankie was nice and all- well, he was not horrible and all- but that wasn't how it was done. And then, when I thought it could get no worse, I saw Whyte coming. More accurately, I smelled him coming. He was looking at the floor and actually seemed contrite, but then he saw us and burst out cackling.

"What happened to you? You look like a painted w***e!" he said.

"Yeah. I don't see how any of this is supposed to trigger emotional attraction," Frankie said. Whyte shook his head and held out his arms.

"I don't swing that way," he said. Frankie turned back to me.

"You are very beautiful. Your face is beautiful," he said. Was he reading off some internal script? He seemed to want to "check off" all the boxes that made a relationship. But then, it was sincere. It had to be, coming from Frankie.

"Thanks. You're not so bad yourself," I said. Whyte made an incredulous noise and stared at me. Oh, is someone jealous? There were a lot of ways Frankie might be more attractive than Whyte. I didn't have to sit around hanging on his every word. If he wanted to be a sourpuss, I could go have fun with someone who would treat me... ideally.

"Hey Casanova, how'd it go?" Hunter shouted from down the hall. He and Felix came into view and stopped when they saw us all gathered around.

"Oh. Excuse us," he said, and they turned to leave.

"No problem. I was just telling Frankie to come see me again sometime," I said. I threw in a wink and watched with a smirk as Frankie left with the others and Whyte was left staring after them. I heard them chatting in the distance.

"She winked at me. That's good, right?"

Priscilla Piscot POV

I would have brought Miall back to his room, but the bar was closer. Maybe it would loosen him up, too. We weren't exactly old enough to get in, but Miall's state made it easy. I waited until the bouncer left for a minute to deal with some VIP and pretended to stagger away from the bar, weaving and slurring with my hair in my face.

"Can I help you?" the bouncer said when he got back.

"Sssure, dontell the waiter we dint pay," I said.

"Nice try. Get back in there," he said. The place was big enough for me to duck out of sight and plop Miall onto a couch by the bar. He started to stir after I put in our first order.

"What was that?" he asked as he sat up.

"You were making us look bad. And that's not easy," I said.

"Darn it, Priscilla, is everything a joke to you?" he asked.

"Not beer," I pointed out. "I got you one too."

"We're supposed to be training," he said as he pushed it away.

"Don't be a spoilsport. It's just for one night," I said. He ignored me, so I drank his too. He judged me as I ordered two more rounds.

"Come on. Loosen up. Drink and be merry. Tomorrow we die," I said. That was comedy gold, but he refused to acknowledge it. After three glasses I was getting a little jovial. I held his glass up to his head and tapped it on him.

"Beer. Beer. Beer," I chanted. Then he grabbed me by the waist and flipped me over. I crashed to the floor much earlier than I expected and beer went everywhere. Miall looked down at me and his expression shifted.

"You all right?" he asked. I must have looked like I was crying. I didn't move to get up.

"That beer is just so good. Good beer is an emotional thing," I said. Miall left to sulk in a corner and I lay contemplated life and beer. If he wanted to be a wet blanket, fine. The beer was good, the night was young, and so was I.