[80th] The Reaping - District 1

They'd discovered the machine in an old abandoned building on the outskirts of District 1. Clearly neglected since even before the great earthquake that had ravaged the district, most of the interior had long since been stripped away from its crumbling concrete walls, covered with graffiti that layered on top of each other until scarcely a clean patch remained.

Fittingly enough, it had been Aerugo, who'd first told them of the place. (It still seemed a little strange to him, taking up these words for names, and the thought that he might eventually need to renounce his family and the prestige of the Lumiere name left his stomach feeling a little queasy - although he supposed their tradition would not have minded a name like Aerugo in and of itself.) The 'Dearest tanager' letter (it had taken some convincing, for him to realize that this was not some illiterate misspelling 'teenager') had been their first clue - and they'd followed the trail of clues, looking for places that might have been connected with the rebellion and to time periods the Capitol thought they ought not to know about.

They preferred not to talk of such things, in his family. He'd heard the legends of the twin warriors, of course, whispered down through the family tree, but what was important, or so he was told, was that the sisters never forgave each other, and that he ought to hold only contempt for the descendants of the sister who betrayed the district.

Yet it was Aerugo, and Canon, and the others, who nurtured his curiosity. Who showed him there were slices of history, hidden within the cracks of the district - sometimes quite literally within the cracks, he thought as he gently teased a aged and brittle sheaf of papers stuffed behind a jagged edge of concrete.

They had been like nothing he'd ever seen before. The typed letters were strewn haphazardly across the pages, and his first thought was that they were missives written in some exotic foreign language, of a sort that perhaps the Capitol had stamped out after the Dark Days occurred. His second thought was that they were the results of someone smashing their hands across a typewriter's keyboard in frustration.

Aerugo had given him a raised eyebrow, that told him just what they thought of both of those suggestions. Especially after they'd found a device, not far from where the papers had been hidden, with a keyboard like that of a typewriter, and little rotors on top printed with fading numbers.

None of them knew how to get it to work, of course. Even if they did, more than half of the keys were stuck, rusted in place to the machine's body, and one rotor wheel was broken entirety, a massive crack running straight down its middle.


There was one family that had come to mind, when he'd thought about who might be able to help them repair the strange gadget. The shops that did mundane repairs were out. He'd dismissed them early on as options; they either didn't have the skill for something so complex, didn't have a reputation of being willing to deal with items of dubious legality, or both. But the Lumieres had connections to the Sublinos, and he knew that although they didn't hold the sort of money or influence his family had, their skill at repairing delicate mechanisms was second to none. And for the right price, they would certainly take on the job.

He spots Bette Sublino in the crowd, talking to one of the Career girls while the people around them begin making their way to the Reaping square. Business was business, for her, even on Reaping Day; it was the sort of mindset he could respect, that boosted their reputation of being willing to take on any request, at any time, as long as you had the money. And if there was one thing Alvis had never wanted for, it was money.

He walks up to Bette as soon as the Career girl leaves, before she can get swallowed up by the crowd. The machine is nestled within a canvas backpack, heavy across his shoulders; he doesn't take it out, not here, but he manages to describe it reasonably well to Bette, who makes all sorts of interesting faces when she hears what he's asking.

"Sorry, you want me to fix what."

"That's extra. Upfront."

"No problem." He'd more or less expected it, from the complexity alone if not from the fact that items tied to the rebellion were far more forbidden than the guns and hidden weapons that made up her usual fare. It seemed a fair price, at least, from what he knew of their other repairs, and he gives a little sigh of relief that he had the amount she'd demanded on hand.

"It's in here. Careful, the thing's really heavy," he warns, attempting to pass the backpack to Bette.

"You could have literally waited an hour until this was over," she snaps at him, stepping away from the bag.

"Why did you bring it to the most public place you could think of, do you not see the fifty or so peacekeepers?!"

Nonetheless, she takes the money from him and slides it into her purse. He'd have to find her after the reaping, he decided. Not that he was worried - the Sublinos had a good track record of keeping their promises, and if worse came to worst, he did know where they lived and worked.

He stands with the other fourteen-year-olds, listening to the usual speeches; he's not overly worried about himself or any of his friends, knowing that they were young enough to be considered trainees, and many of the older boys - hell, some of his own brothers and cousins - would jump at the chance to volunteer.

"Bette Sublino!"

But no one steps up for her.

Well, shit, came his first thought. This just got a lot more complicated.