grey skies { dee }

“Yes yes, just tell your boss to give me a response by tomorrow. I need to know what he has to say. No, I will not be going to the viewing center. Yes, I’m quite sure.” It had gotten tiring repeating the same words day in and day out what with both the end of a Games and the planning of the next Games occurring at the same time. Already Benson was feeling tired, exhausted, and he had no idea how he had been a head Gamemaker for one Games. The stress was already more than enough as was the need to be pleasant to people he did not want to be pleasant too. What he really wanted was to rest.

He had sought refuge in the empty training center—the rest of the Capitol was busy watching the Games from some viewing area—and still managed to get himself cornered by some Gamemaker’s assistant. They’re everywhere, like a bunch of flies. But finally he had a moment of peace and he walked through the dark corridors, certain that he was the only one in the space. There were many things to think about, but the Games had been on his mind since the day he was hired. He had nearly gone crazy from being the head Gamemaker of the 59th Hunger Games, and yet he could never really escape its grasp.

Being alone, he loosened the knot around his neck so that he could finally breathe and pushed up the sleeves of his shirt. For the rest of the day, they would not need him and they did, they would not find him. He had had enough of the discussions of favorite tributes, likely winners, and possible strategies. There was no point in thinking of the tribute’s strategy; Gamemakers only had to know how to entertain. Still, he greatly admired the works of the head Gamemakers, especially Dom Copperview. Sure, he might not have liked the personalities of most of the Gamemakers, but he had a deep appreciation for the games they made and managed.

But he would have to appreciate the finale another time as he soaked in the moment of peace. The moment of peace was broken by a figure in his way. Benson immediately recognized Opal Earnest but she had changed in appearance from when she was a Shore. I guess age would do that. She was no longer the 16 year old girl from the 64th Games. She was now a young woman who had lost both a brother and a husband. Just like any Victor, her life after the Games had become widely publicized yet she had managed to avoid attention after the 67th Games.

Nothing could have prepared Benson for their interaction. He only recognized her by how she looked but he had never really said anything more than a pleasant ‘hello’ as he quickly rushed past to complete his next task. But there they both were, her finger jabbed into his chest. She has guts, that much hasn’t changed. “Yes, and I know you as well,” Benson replied, his eyes looking at the finger then back at her. “Opal Earnest, though you once went by Opal Shore.”

“Judging by your tone of voice, you don’t seem to be very happy with me and I’m going to take a wild guess that it has something to do with your friend, Mace.” His eyes kept flickering back to the finger on his chest, wondering what she was about to accuse him of. Thinking of nothing else he could do, he decided to give her an offer: “If you have any questions, you might as well just ask them. Who would know anyway and it doesn’t seem like either of us are in a rush to be somewhere.”

He had noticed her surprise but was unsure how to respond to it, only patiently waiting to hear whatever questions she had for him. After all, it was the first time he had a conversation with a Victor, especially one who seemed to take an interest in his particular Games. Benson’s eyes remained on her as she moved so slightly back, trying to formulate her next words. He hid the small smile on his face when she said, ‘unexpected,’ amused that she had been expecting something else. Benson didn’t blame her; many of the Gamemakers liked to put up personas or just didn’t disclose information at all. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to be like the Gamemakers, or like the Capitolites who were so absorbed in their fads. Or maybe it was because he was just tired.

“Well, for Gamemakers, they don’t like to reveal their trade secrets, though I always had a feeling one like Glamour would let something slip on purpose. As for me, I don’t see a point in hiding anything, particularly from Victors. Also, I guess I’m just tired of looking presentable for other people, caring about the words I say.” Benson looked back at Opal to see that she was avoiding looking at him. “What can I say? You caught me at a good time.”

Her question did cause him to stumble with himself. Benson knew answering questions wouldn’t be easy, but nothing could have prepared him for these types of questions. Emotional questions that questioned his motives, his passions, his interests were difficult to wrestle with when Benson thought with words and logic. Did he regret his profession? Perhaps that was the reason why he had been trying to reconcile with himself because while he wanted to say no, another part of him said yes. The stress had caused him to step down, but a part of him really wanted to believe that knowing that he was the reason that 23 children were dead had a role in it. “The short answer: no.”

“The long answer is I don’t regret becoming a Gamemaker and doing what Gamemakers do, but I do regret the turmoil that comes with the job. The Games, they’re meant to expose a side of these children who are thrown into the arena that they would never find. But for our audience, it has to be entertaining. And that's why Victors like Mace have their own set of problems.” Benson drew in a long breath before exhaling and looking in the direction of darkness. There, he found his answer. “Don’t get me wrong. I am still a Gamemaker and no matter what I do, I will always have a role in the Games somehow. But getting to know the tributes like that, basically controlling their environment to reveal the best and worst of them…” Benson shook his head at Opal, unsure of how much he was willing to tell her.

He wanted to be honest with her, chalking it to fatigue, but also because he was interested in her story. Her life was what the Gamemakers would call an interesting backstory, one that needed to be exploited. But Benson wanted to know the deeper inner-workings of her life. He wanted to know more about her. First, he had to clear up the air between them. “And what you’ve done, do you regret it? You and I, we’re not innocent, though admittedly I have more blame on my shoulders than you.”

The way she asked him that question, it was as if she was…doubt? No, skepticism. Benson could tell that she believed the words that he was saying—it is the truth after all—but it must have sounded foreign to her. He didn’t blame her; the different personas of the Gamemakers were diverse and while Dom Copperview’s attitude toward the Games was well-known, Gamemakers who were Head Gamemakers once or twice were much difficult to zone in on. Still, it was as if Opal had a preconceived notion in her mind and Benson was showing her a different world. “Would you disagree with this view? Could you honestly tell me that you had not discovered a part of your self that you would not have discovered if you had remained in District 1? I will say that having children kill children is a rather…twisted way for it, but do you deny that it is effective? Let me ask you this, Opal. What would your life be like if you had not been reaped? Would you still be a Shore?” Running a hand through his hair, he realized how exhausted he must have been to reveal that side of him despite his training. Imagination, entertainment in death, creativity in creating this world. “I went too far.”

Benson shook his head to rid his mind of those thoughts. He didn’t have time for this, not when he was just about to learn something more about the Victor of the 64th Games. He nodded his head as he chewed on her words, a Victor who did not regret living and taking lives to do it. Maybe it was because she had years to contemplate it, but it had been in Benson’s experience that young Victors had difficulties still coming to terms with the fact that they had killed and who they had to kill in order to live a new life. In other words, Opal Elegant had achieved acceptance somewhere in her new life, acceptance of whom she had killed. Benson…approved of the answer. It was of a sound mind, one that knew what she wanted and the stakes it took. But she too had suffered loss from a viewer’s perspective and that could not have been easy for her.

He couldn’t help himself from chuckling. “Oh, Opal, we all had a choice in the decisions we made. I had a choice as young man on whether I should accept the position for Head Gamemaker and further my career as a Gamemaker. I knew of the consequences that came with being branded to a certain Games, and yet I made the choice. Granted, you were thrown into the arena by a reaping, but anyone who survived long enough to make a decision to swing or do nothing had a choice.” He made himself look into her eyes, matching her glare with his own tired gaze. “You had a choice, Opal Earnest. Life or death is still a choice.”

A part of Benson wanted to know, wanted to know what it was like to be a Victor, to have come out of the Games knowing that you had killed teenagers in order to survive. Yet another part of Benson wasn’t sure that he wanted to know as he watched her process those questions. He knew that he had gone too far, probing the Victor’s mind before he even really knew who she was, but did he really regret it? No. Not even when Opal gave him a venomous look did Benson regret asking those questions. He was tired of putting up appearances, controlling his mind and his tongue, trying to put on a persona as Benson Tiero, the Gamemaker.

He didn’t blame her when she said she didn’t like him. In fact, he was certain that she wasn’t the only who wanted to say those words, but she was definitely the first to say it to his face and it made him…aware. “You aren’t the only one, Opal. I am certain 24 families don’t like me and there are more to count.” When he took the job as a young man, he had regarded it as a high honor, to be able to have the control of the Games and to have his name be associated with a success. And even though he was able to produce a Victor, a Victor who managed to survive despite his odds, it didn’t feel like the success that he was promised.

And now here he stood, with a Victor from a future Games, telling him that he was…right? Yes, she had developed in her time in the arena but it seemed like she was finally grasping what had come for her after she was declared Victor. And while he approved, Benson couldn’t help but feel sad as she gave him that smile. There was acceptance in that smile, but the battle that she must have been going through looked as if it was wearing her down. I apologize, Opal. I can’t say it out loud, but I am sorry.

Strong. There was no denying that this girl—no, she was no longer a girl despite her years—was strong. Are they all this way? Benson reflected Opal’s smile with one of his own, an acceptance that perhaps what he had been taught—well, human nature had a funny way of playing the Games. “That being said, I am…sorry, for the loss that you’ve had. Your story is one…one I had not expected to see as a Gamemaker.” He looked into the empty space of the training center, imagining the different tributes he had seen training in there as they prepared for the arena. “You’re strong, stronger than I had imagined.” Stronger than I could be. “Stubborn,” Benson added with a small smile, “—but strong.”