flight of the fallen ━━ the hunger games

𝗶. withdrawal

FLIGHT OF THE FALLEN
☀︎ Chapter One

Sacha laughed.

She tipped her head back, closed her eyes in fake delight, and laughed like she'd just heard the funniest joke in the entire world.

In actuality, her escort, Euphemia—a strange woman with light purple skin, neon pink hair reaching the ceiling, and odd patterns carved into her flesh—had just suggested that Sacha herself got some carvings while they were in the Capitol. As if she was going to a fashion show, not heading to her imminent death.

Sacha Transit: District Six, transportation. There were no skills beneficial for her in that district, no skills to help her win the games. Though, she did have some muscle from constantly loading cargo, she had to admit. And she did win the Hunger Games, three years ago, by hiding the entire time. Not the most admirable strategy but it got her to the end. It got her the crown.

"Well, let's see if I win the games first," Sacha responded, fake grin still on her youthful face.

Yes, despite the fact it was supposed to be impossible, she was going back into the games. It was the 75th year of the Hunger Games and thus a Quarter Quell—a special type of games with a twist to mark each twenty-fifth anniversary of the games starting. This year's twist, Sacha could hear the president's cruel voice in her head as she remembered, was that the tributes would be reaped from the existing pool of victors to prove to the districts that not even the strongest among them could overthrow the Capitol.

Sacha assumed that this twist would be saved for a special event, such as the 100th anniversary, and since it had changed the rules of the Hunger Games...well, it begged the question: was there an uprising on the Capitol's hands?

The very thought of it made Sacha quiver with excitement before she was quickly brought back to the present.

"I'll definitely be rooting for you," Euphemia smiled wide. God, why did she have a piercing through her canines?

Sacha glanced at the necklace the woman was wearing. A golden mockingjay. The symbol the victor of the previous year, Katniss Everdeen, had worn. Sacha didn't believe her escort—but all she did was place a heartfelt hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently, "I hope others will as well." A subtle nudge to get her sponsors: the main reason Sacha had survived her first games.

Oh, that is weird, she thought, referring to it as my 'first games'. And this will be my second, my last, and my inevitable death.

"Ah, there you are!" Euphemia exclaimed, attention directed to the door that had just been opened. A man in his early thirties, haggard with yellowish-brown skin and sunken eyes, had just walked in. "James, you're finally here. Now, we can watch the recap of the reapings."

James: the male tribute of District Six. The only male victor, meaning the only tribute that could be selected. He'd been absent as soon as they entered the train taking them to the Capitol, most likely attempting to fight off the ever-increasing symptoms of morphling withdrawal.

"You look gorgeous," He stated when he caught sight of Sacha. She'd already changed into a form-fitting red dress, whilst he was in his usual baggy black garments. As he spoke, his words were high-pitched with odd vowels, voice going up at the end like he was asking a question. Completely mocking the Capitol accent.

"Why, thank you," Sacha stood for a moment, grinning with amusement, to curtsy toward her former mentor before sitting back down on the couch, patting the spot beside her.

Clutching a pillow to his chest, James sat next to her. His gaze was fixed on a point in the distance, expression unreadable, instead of the television before them.