team baddie { maya x delia }

[k!ah]

Maya Gomez,

You are required to report to the Capitol in a week from todays date for a promotional event.

Please report to building 169, floor 14, Style street, by 8am Friday morning. Do not be late.

See you then.

Vera Fang, media and fashion manager at the Victor's View.

I had arrived in the Capitol at 6am this morning, the nippy morning air instantly waking me up, fighting off the yawn had started to build deep in my throat. "Fuck, its early," I grumble as I make my way down style street. On my arrival at the translation they had insisted that I take the car that Miss Vera Fang had sent but I had not so politely declined them, flipping them off as I took down the street.

If I was being honest, I was in a little bit of a mood.

The summons to the Capitol had had me a little nervous. Two months had passed since the end of my games. Two months the best months of my life. I had gotten comfortable. I had been so caught up in the bliss of being back home- feeling the fresh air against my skin, the window in the house were never closed at the Gomez estate- that I had forgotten about my arrangement with the Capitol. The arrival of the letter had made more all more aware of the scars against my wrists, the phantom shackles ice against my skin.

I had half expected to see Poppy on my arrival. The young GM had been designated as my supervisor. A position that had never been voiced, or even spoken about, but I knew it. They had sent her to keep an eye on me, to ensure that I was true to my word. And I was sure that each thing we spoke about was documented and reported back to her superiors. She held my life in her hands.

Rounding the corner I arrive at building 169 and it was fucking huge. The building was so tall that I had to tilt my head all the way back to see the top. But what was more impressive was the fact that the windows sparkled. Like each and every one of them- like how? How was it possible to keep it so fucking shiny? There is a quiet hum as the doors slide open and the lady behind the desk welcomes me with a large manufactured smile. "Welcome to The Victor's View. How may I help you?"

"Ah. Hi." I start awkwardly, everything was so clean. Pristine. District Three looked like a fucking shit hole in comparison. How many pain killers was I on that day when I was packed into the train back to Three? "I was told to come here, I'm Maya-"

"Ah, yes, Maya Gomez. They are expecting you!" The lady points towards a pair of shiny silver doors at the back of the room. "Please take the escalator to the 14th floor."

Esca-what?

The doors slide open behind me and Cordelia Blake walks in. The Victor of the 6th Hunger Games. She was stunning. And fucking ruthless. Rumour has it that pretty much all of the other victors hated her, especially the deaf one- wait, or was she blind? Anyways, that one really hated her. But if I was being honest, I didn't see it. They all shat on her for taking advantage of the opportunity that she had been given, for not sulking and cracking the shits for becoming the 'monsters' that we are. And it was a vibe.

"Cordelia Blake!" I greet her with a large grin, "Maya Gomez. Big fan."

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

I haven't quite decided what this all means yet, I think. That the others were used as soldiers and protectors of Panem while I was stuck with these chicken-shit gigs could've meant a lot of things. Allow me to be clear: I'm not saying I want to become a soldier, I don't. I just know I'd be better at it than they are, so I don't understand what the disconnect is which puts me here, in the Capitol, wearing a dress that probably cost more money than anyone back home had ever seen in one place, underneath hot studio lights and covered in makeup. They keep paying me money to, like, cut ribbons with oversized scissors at a bunch of fundraisers and buildings, and giving me tacky oversized checks or keys to places I don't care to go.

I wonder briefly if any of them have shared my experience and then promptly decide, probably not. There was a reason it had to be me and not Adder or Babe, who couldn't follow rules if the Capitol was the one making them, or Sami or Mo who I think may have actually forgotten how to speak at this point. Terror Montag-ew was another obvious no. Up til now, I guess I was the only logical option. But now there's this: her.

Maya Gomez. I could've made another enemy of her: to be honest, it's a conscious choice I sometimes find myself having to make in real time, but Games season was really shitty last year because they obviously had to separate Terror and I, and since they're all squares, it'd left me completely alone at practically every turn and that was worse than murdering people.

Besides, she's here and, apparently, she's a fan. I smile the instant she says it, my mind made up. I'll keep this one.

"Oh, I know who you are. I watched the whole games-" That was a lie, of course. About halfway through I'd finally managed to get the grating loose between mine and Terror's cells and was halfway through the opening before they could grab onto my ankles and pull me back in. After that they'd tranquilized me to keep me compliant, but- "I definitely remember that last fight at least, for sure."

The image of her stabbing that girl through the heart is a hard one to forget.

An assistant comes over to fuss with my makeup but I pay them no mind. I take the opportunity to pull Maya in for a hug.

"Have you done any of these yet? It's pretty simple. You'll just stand here and pose until your back hurts and answer really stupid questions for a bit, then they give ya a meal voucher for Pablo's down the street, which is this disgusting fusion place. I always just use mine for drinks. Wanna come with after we're done here?"