bit coyne. (coyned) wrote in colosseum, @ 2014-03-16 20:53:00 |
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The other victors must have noticed that something wasn't right with Beetee -- at least, more so than usual. Since returning to District 3 after the 56th Annual Hunger Games, he could barely finish a sentence without looking over his shoulder for an invisible foe, and, in all that time, he had barely left his home in Victor's Village. Though Beetee frequently went through bouts of isolation, particularly when working on a new project, long nights spent tinkering and coding didn't leave him this twitchy.
Aside from his completely justified paranoia, life went on otherwise completely as normal in District 3. Somehow, that made it worse. The Peacekeepers paid him no more attention than usual, his computer files remained untouched, and a scan revealed no more recording devices than usual within the vicinity of his home and workshop. For weeks, Beetee waited for the other shoe to drop, and nothing. It didn't make sense, not with President Snow's modus operandi, and not given what he knew about the last victor that had been in contact with District 13.
After weeks of this, Beetee eventually found himself at the front door of his former mentor, Bit Coyne. While not one to ask for favors, in this case he felt he had no choice, and he rapped his knuckles against the door.
The very first house in Victor Village was quiet for a change, there were no grandchildren, no siblings, even Bit’s wife had gone off for a walk for a while. The time between games was his favorite, he liked not thinking about the Games as much as he could, and pretending that they didn’t exist, that in another reality the Capitol existed, even though that little daydream of hope was dashed every time he saw a Peacekeeper.
He answered the door, not completely surprised to see Beetee. He didn’t know if he’d seen him since the train back. “Come in?” Bit asked, unsure of what Beetee was there or what he wanted.
Beetee flinched at the invitation and shook his head. He'd expected a full house, babbling children, something to hide their conversation. "Let's go for a walk," he suggested instead.
“Okay,” Bit said, reaching for his jacket before walking out the door. He wasn’t sure why Beetee was there but he was sure that his reasons would be clear soon enough. The two men walked out of the village at a casual speed.
Beetee steered the walk in the direction of District 3's black market, where spools of wire and roasted squirrels occupied adjacent stalls. He and Bit couldn't be free of Capitol surveillance, no matter where they went, but the market cameras picked up unreliable audio at best. The Capitol already knew the worst of it, but here, perhaps Beetee could perform damage control without fear of escalating the situation.
"I am going to be busy during the Games next year," he said plainly, getting straight to the point even as he couched his fears in euphemism. "I understand it's a lot to ask at your age, but as a favor to me, do you think you might consider a return to mentoring? Just for one year, assuming I don't die." At this point, Beetee couldn't count his continued survival as a foregone conclusion. He hated asking favors, and Bit had no logical reason to do anything for him. This was, after all, the man who had put Beetee's other mentor forward for the Capitol's enjoyment.
Bit might have been the dumbest victor that 3 had, he certainly was not intelligent the way the other three were, but he could read between the lines. If the other man was asking him to mentor that meant, well it meant that Beetee had done something stupid or was about to do something stupid. Although, he thought, the stupidity had already been done given the last big, if I don’t die. Quick memories of watching his grandfather shot by Peacekeepers went through his mind. Would they be that kind to Beetee or make him suffer some?
He didn’t want to mentor, he had done his time, over 30 years, 24 of them alone, watching as 50 other children failed to win. He had been 3’s sole survivor, doing anything he could think of to try to get anything to give an advantage in the arena, but nothing had worked. And then with Faraday, well their personalities had clashed.
But Beetee had been the smartest person, even though he was small, frail, and weak, he had survived and now he was asking for a favor. Bit made a disgruntled noise that as more for show. If Beetee died, he would be forced to mentor anyway.
“Alright, fine,” Bit said. “I’ll do it so you can work on your project.” Just in case the audio picked up anything, project seemed like a safe word to say. Beetee was always working on ‘projects’ and maybe that was the problem.
Beetee did not breathe a sigh of relief or feel a great weight lift from his shoulders. Bit's agreeing to mentor didn't actually make him any safer. It only gave him a little more time and energy to focus and to lay low. Beetee wouldn't be truly safe until the Capitol lost power, and neither would Bit, or Faraday, or Wiress, or anyone in District 3. "Thanks," he said. "I'll help you out when I can, but -- it's a very important project."
“I mentored 50 dead kids before Faraday finally won,” Bit told him bluntly. “It’ll be fine.” Although if they were both really honest, as Beetee as Beetee was, he was better with sponsors than Bit ever was or would be. Bit was too impatient, too grating, he hated Capitol life too much to be anything but rubbish at it.
He leaned it to make it appear that he was clapping on Beetee on the back but he spoke, keeping his voice low, only loud enough for Beetee to hear. “Whatever happened, try not to be stupid enough to get caught next time, it’s not just you - they’ll kill you to make an example but it won’t fucking end there.”
Beetee leaned in, looking at Bit intently. The man wasn't an inventor like Wiress, but he too clearly had some intuition, and he spoke stark truths. Beetee remembered what had happened to other victors who had stepped out of line and the one other victor who had done what Beetee had. As the second ever victor, Bit had witnessed all of it, had witnessed what had happened before the era of the Hunger Games even began. "Speaking from experience?"
“My grandfather,” Bit said. “He helped lead the rebellion in 3.” His voice was softer than normal, keeping it quiet between the two of them.
For a moment, Beetee said nothing. In the early days of the Hunger Games, most of the tributes had been connected to the rebels, whether by conspiracy or simply because so many citizens had fought the Capitol, Beetee couldn't say. He had suspected that Bit might have had some connection to the rebellion in District 3, like Mags in District 4, but he hadn't been able to confirm it in over twenty years as a fellow victor.
"I'm sorry," he said out of politeness more than anything else. Bit's grandfather was dead regardless and had likely been dead for longer than he had been alive. Nothing Beetee could say would change that, but perhaps he could learn from the example. He glanced over his shoulder. No Peacekeeper trail he could see, just like the last time he left his house. "I'm no leader. They have other uses for me."
Bit waved his hand off, he hadn’t said that for Beetee’s apologizes, but more of a warning. 3 had its hand in the Rebellion before, they had suffered and were still suffering thanks to the Hunger Games and the control the Capitol had over them.
But one word had caught his attention in Beetee’s statement they. Beetee, he didn’t think, was the type to start or lead a rebellion, although he could see the younger man hacking into Capitol computers, annoying them, but not, leading an armed rebellion. No wonder the younger man seemed twitchier than normal, this wasn’t just about him.
“So there’s a group of you.”
"Not of me," Beetee said, shaking his head. District 13 had other contacts in the districts and the Capitol, certainly, but Beetee served unique functions. Even if there had been others, Beetee might have lied to give Bit a measure of plausible deniability. He knew how bad the other man's poker face was. "There has only ever been one other victor thus far, and you know what happened to her."
Everyone knew what had happened to Calixte Rodriguez, even if they didn't know why. It had happened only a few short years before Beetee’s win, amidst a shift of power in the Capitol. She was the example, just like Bit had warned Beetee he might become.
“I see,” Bit said, his mind taking in all the information. Somehow, somewhere whoever had been involved with Calixte had come in contact with Beetee, whether he had found them or vice versa wasn’t known, but the less Bit knew about the circumstances of their arrangement the better. Granted, Beetee was smarter than Cailxte, but Beetee was smarter than everybody and if the Capitol…But of course they had asked him, no one had a way with computers like he did, no one could do what Beetee could do.
It didn’t matter with ifs or whens or whats. Beetee was in, likely too far in to back out, he just to continue being as clever as he was.
"So I just need to lay low for a year," Beetee said, bringing the subject back around to Bit's mentoring. He would help with the Games where he could, but he could concentrate on scrubbing his digital record without the pressure of attending to District 3's tributes. "Get my affairs in order."
“This year and the next, we can call it my farewell tour,” Bit said with another grunt. Soon, he would stop coming to the games, he had decided that a long time ago that at one point he would stop and when Clinton stopped attending, well that had been a sign. He didn’t like the Games, but before Wiress, there had been only three. Once Beetee got his affairs in order, he would stop attending.
"Thanks, Bit." Though they had been victors together for so many years, Beetee and Bit had never been friends, per se. The value of lambda for each of their waves differed. With each of their confessions, they did not necessarily become closer, but they gained some kind of understanding. If Beetee died within a year, at least one person in District 3 would know why. "Maybe that's how we should sell it to sponsors."
“They’ll like it,” Bit said. “If we win one this year, we can say I stuck around to help if...it’s needed.” He didn’t know how long Beetee would take. Bit just hoped the other man truly had it under control.