looting the legacies | day 6 [open]

Flynn leaves behind the interview, content with his answers. The drawstrings haven’t been pulled tight on Nessa’s sponsorship money pouch yet. It is overflowing. With thanks to his name first and then her performance. He keeps being asked if he is surprised by how well his littlest sister has done but if one person out of the Garner trio had to be picked as a likely survivor of the games, it would be her. Flynn is just an anomaly. The weakling that got lucky. Meanwhile Nessa is surviving. And damn, yes, he is proud, but he is not bathing himself in hope.

Flynn Garner has already suffered enough from the side-effects of hope.

Day Six is awakening and there is more of a buzz in the air of the hotel’s viewing suite. The place has been re-decorated, adorned in the same sparkling gold in the glass that gets topped up on Flynn’s table. ”No, I don’t think I will be drinking today.” The waiter, who is mid-pour stops like some deer caught in headlights. ”There is no alcohol in this bottle Mr Garner. Courtesy of an anonymous sponsor.” A Capitol official says across from the table, their silhouette is miraged by the glaring screen behind them that broadcasts the activity in the training center. ”Fine, for the sponsorship deal…” Flynn reluctantly sips the glass, he has not being lied too, there’ll be no taste of regret later on his lips. He sinks into his chair, swirling the liquid in the glass as he follows the broadcast.

Nessa is alone now, just as he was before he came face to face with Lorraine on that fateful bridge. There is no ideal opponent for her left in the arena but there is one that he internally begs for her not to face. Flynn has yet to share a word with the District Ten entourage, besides of course the many words he has had with Andal.

"You've got to be kidding me,"

A close-up shot of Nessa is broadcast on the screens, all that can be seen is her face. A perfectly filmed live piece that leaves the audience guessing.

"Our mentors are going to fucking love this,"

The camera pans to a wide shot, the focus is on the new subject, Emerson Emberstatt.

The crumbling victor gently places his half-empty glass back onto the table as he pushes himself out of the seat. He pats down his tailored trousers and quietly heads towards the exit of the viewing suite. This isn’t an outburst. Just a swift retreat but it doesn’t matter how subtly he tries to escape; they all have their eyes on him and the victors from District Ten.

”Where are you going, Garner?” It is the same Peacekeeper that has been on his case all week.
”Out of here, I don’t need to watch this.” The Peacekeeper stops Flynn’s hand before he can call for the elevator. ”No. You will go back in there and watch every second of it!”

”And if I don’t?”

”It won’t just be Emberstatt that you will have to worry about in that arena.”

And so, they do it again, use his family to push him back into line, soon they will be running out of fruits to pick from his family tree. They’ll be digging up the roots, scurrying for someone they can find to hurt him.

Flynn abides by the orders and blends in with a group of sponsors, leaning against barstools. He is not left empty handed for long, another glass is forced on him. His eyes dance between the screens and the District Tens in the room.

This is him trying not to let himself be torn apart. They both have someone to protect. He can’t let himself become helpless. He can’t lose everything he has. But he can’t face this day alone.

If he approaches them now, what is he meant to say?

Good luck.
I hope my sister goes easy on your grandson.
Your grandson better stay off of my fucking sister!

There is nothing civil he can conjure up. He is a fool to even walk across the suite towards them. He stops mid-way, glass in hand and takes a deep breath. He is shaking. He needs to sit down. Maybe someone will meet him half-way. From Ten or anywhere, someone just to catch him. To help him face this day without being alone.