Victors' Purge

Tristan Terrace

Haymitch had left Snow Square a few hours ago, the place where the largest concentration of high profile capitoliens were watching the Games in all of Panem, leaving behind one of his closest companions in every game since the latter won his games and started mentoring more than twenty years ago: Tristan. He was the last of all of the mentors that year, who were aware of the Rebellion, to leave the Capitol in advance of the breakout of the victors in the Arena on the next day. Tristan, unlike Haymitch, Beetee and others, was not fully integrated in the rebel plan due to the fact of his drunken state most of the time he was mentoring in the Capitol. Nonetheless, he knew enough to come to the conclusion that Coriolanius Snow would suspect most victors, in and out of the arena, in whatever plot there was surrounding 'the Girl On Fire'. He observed the District 1 and 2 mentors as some of the few left in Snow Square from the bar arena, knowing that they were probably going to be spared from any kind of harassment since their loyalties were really clearly laid with the Capitol. Even Mars de Montfort, victor of the 68th Hunger games, who was currently a peacekeeper in his home district, wasn't to be trusted despite the fairly decent relationship they had established in the last few years. Even Tatianna Nielsen, shunned by District 2 after her games, was not to be trusted either, using any kind of information about the rebellion to clean her slate of shame for just outsmarting her game opponents. Almost like his thoughts were heard, Tatianna locked eyes with Tristan from the distance between the bar and the area where the career mentors tend to be approached by potential sponsors. He put his beer up and made a cheers gesture which made the District 2 victor roll her eyes and refocus uninterested on the events in the arena projected by the large screen in the square. Willow's memory was vividly in his head most games, in particular last years' when he saw Katniss Everdeen volunteering for her younger sister in order to protect her life, unlike he was able to do with his own. He groaned and emptied his beer bottle in one gulp before throwing it away on the trash can closest to the train station on his way there, where he took the last train that departed from the Capitol to District 7.

In the train, small televisions were playing the games in each wagon, however Tristan was playing little to no attention to the screen above him as the alcohol made him less perceptive of his surroundings as well as sleepy, which could be noticed by the way that his eyes were closing and his vision was blurred. Despite coming in and out of consciousness, it wasn't until a woman screamed loudly that he didn't fully wake up, finding himself in the middle of a small commotion of people pointing at the screens, calling on their phones and grabbing their loved ones. The browned haired victor stood up and adjusted his eyesight to view that the games had been halted, something that has never occurred in its 75 years of history. He knew what that meant and before he had time to recollect his thoughts, three peacekeepers entered the wagon abruptly, which alerted Tristan to stand up and move to the next one. Despite his efforts to hide himself in the next carriage, which was full of crates with different resources destine to his district, he was very clearly recognised by the few passengers mostly due to his status as a victor and his drunken state throughout the trip, which led to them directing the peacekeepers to the next wagon. He thought about jumping out the window but the speed of the train was far too great for him to do so and the fact that his head was heavy due to the alcohol he consumed throughout the day, made him realise there was no escape. A new found bravery overcame him as the peacekeepers approached him as he made peace with the idea that this was his end. He knew that whatever happened in the arena, would come to a cost to all his fellow victors. But strangely the peacekeepers just handcuffed him and sat him in the corner of the same carriage as they were making their entrance to District 7 station.

Once the train arrived at his home district, he was pushed, kicked and shouted as he was carried all the way to the town center where one peacekeeper was being beaten till the point that he became unconscious. It wasn't until water was thrown at the victim's face, which made him regain consciousness, that he realised it was no other than Mars de Montfort. His white uniform had been cut in several places where red blood was gushing from; certainly there had been a struggle. Tristan barely recognised him as more blood was coming out of his mouth, several cuts were made in his face and a black eye was forming in his left eyelid. Despite his imminent death, Tristan looked quite shocked as he certainly believed that at least District 2's victors were going to be safe from Snow's petty punishment. Contrary to his fellow victor, underneath all that blood and mud, Mars face was full of confusion and fear. He believed that by becoming a peacekeeper, he was safe and no longer worthy of the victor title. He pleaded to what once were his colleagues but in response he received a new punch in the face that finally silenced him for good. They were both put on their knees in the middle of the street, which now had many curious and worried district citizens paying attention, especially after the abrupt end of the broadcast of the Hunger Games a few hours ago. Two peacekeepers proceeded to stand in front of both victors, pulling out their guns as Tristan spat blood on the concrete and pulled a huge smile as the barrel of the gun aimed only a few centimetres from his forehead.

— What's that smile for?

Demanded the nameless and faceless peacekeeper that was pointing at him as the safety was taken out. The dark haired victor kept his smile as he looked up at the sky and murmured:

— Willow.

Mars looked at Tristan still shaken but with a new found respect for him as he appeared to accept his fate. As the eyes of both men closed and their supposed act of treason was shouted out to the public, both victors were shot dead on the spot. The screams of disbelief were heard throughout that zone in District 7, as one of their last living victors was executed. Their bodies were left in the street by the peacekeepers, as the dry sun of the evening slowly faded away from them.