pole position | d1 train [97th]
Jun 6, 2024 13:18:17 GMT -5
Post by frankel on Jun 6, 2024 13:18:17 GMT -5
![](https://i.imgur.com/Rrw5rqu.jpeg)
PORTIA MAYBACH
It should be pride hanging from Portia Maybach’s neck but as soon as the crowd filters a path for her onto the train, the weight of the metal feels more like embarrassment. What was Astra thinking? A fake participation medal that Portia was given (not won) when she was four years old, not something to show off. It is why she tucks the medallion inside her lavender blouse. There’s a whole bunch of veteran victors and Capitol elitists inside of the train to impress. A piece of metal for an egg and spoon race that happened twelve years ago is going to do nothing for first impressions.
Portia’s career training comes from the standard textbook. The Maybachs have strayed away from the glory of The Hunger Games, their fame comes from embracing the evolving industry in One. The Hunger Games is starting to feel a little…old fashioned. Portia wonders what it feels like for her family, now that one of their own is in it. Will they take is seriously now?
She may have said her farewells, but it is not over for her connection with her family. Her father is a businessman and sponsorship deals are a business. He will pull some strings in One that will reach the Capitol, somehow.
Carriage doors slam shut behind Portia, she is sealed in the carriage. Preserved as a tribute, soon to break free with a crown on her head or contained for an eternity six feet under.
For now, she will take all of this as a challenge, just a tournament that somebody else signed her up for. That will be until the reality sets in. She knows it is no egg and spoon race or even a half-marathon. This is more of a challenge than fifty marathons back-to-back. All she must fight in her running is her own body, soon there will be other bodies flinging swords at her. She has trained for this. The art of killing someone has always been an extra-curricular activity rather than the major focus in her life.
Aged victors fill the carriage, the only one close to her age is the guy whose name was called before hers. Jupiter Graves, she has only heard that name in science class. A competitor or a teammate, making a friend before the off doesn’t sound like bad strategy.
Portia leans her back against one of the windows, images of One flash behind her. The long sleeves of her lavender blouse are rolled up to her elbows and two buttons are undone below her chin. Not the look she was carrying at the reaping but now she means business. A red, blue and white ribbon of her medal is visible but not the printed metal that hidden behind fabric. Maybe she can get something more worthwhile engraved on it in the Capitol.
”So we’re the ones that One are relying on?” Portia says out loud, it is aimed at Jupiter but she hopes the victors answer too. It has been fourteen years since another joined the ageing bunch with their crowns. Perhaps Portia’s medal is not the only embarrassing thing here. ”You’re a career right? Our game plan is to make sure this year is not another disappointing one. I will pull that weight myself, if you’re not up for it…”