The Second Quarter Quell

Haymitch Abernathy is an eighteen year old tribute from District 12 during the 2nd Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games. Alongside him are three other tributes, one of them posing more of a threat than an other enemy he might face in the arena. Who is this tribute? Find out now! (((Kree Stark belongs to me. Please do not steal her.)))


12. The Aftermath

The screen faded away from Haymitch's look of rage. Peeta and Katniss remained silent as the crowd cheered. Haymitch avoided their gazes, even as the Peacekeepers untied him and led him offstage. Caesar closed and then followed them with Katniss and Peeta close behind.

"You know Haymitch," he smirked, "no matter how many tributes and victors I see come through here, your story will always be my favorite."

The blonde merely glared at him, "I'd watch your back if I were you, Flickerman."

"Why's that? As long as I'm in the Capital, you cannot do anything. I have Peacekeepers surrounding me 24/7. You really think you are the first to threaten my life?"

Haymitch gave a fake laugh, "Didn't you learn anything from my video?"

When the host didn't answer, Peeta murmured, "The odds are never in your favor."


The train hissed as it pulled into the District 12 station. Haymitch led his victors into the night silently. A few people walking around glanced in their direction, but quickly looked away. Haymitch didn't have to guess to know that they had all seen the video from their homes. He scowled; he did not want anyone's pity, nor did he need it. He had gotten by just fine after returning home from the Games. Of course, Kree's family had tried to talk with him and he gladly spent as much time with them as possible. He glanced over at Peeta. He was even there for his birth, but he had ask the boy's mother not to tell him. If he knew, then he'd ask why. And if he did that, Kree was sure to come out.

"Haymitch," a voice yelled into the night, "Peeta!"

The boys turned to see Mrs. Mellark running towards them. Peeta caught her, hugging her tightly. Her hand then clasped around the blonde's arm and yanked him into the hug. The mentor said nothing, but allowed her arm to wrap around his waist.

"I was so worried," she said, "damn that Flickerman! Damn him straight to hell!"

"Don't worry, mom," Peeta soothed, "he'll get what's coming to him. The Capital will fall one day. And when it does, we won't have to worry about Fickerman or Snow or the Games ever again."

Haymitch nodded in agreement, pulling away from the Mellarks, "Go home, you three," he glanced over at Katniss, "get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, Effie will come and get you ready for your trip. Don't forget, we're going to visit the other districts. You have to pay respects to the other tributes."

His victors nodded and slowly led Mrs. Mellark into her house. When they were all safely inside, Haymitch walked down to his end of the Victor's Village. His house appeared to be just as grand from the outside, but inside it was disgusting. There were beer bottles and wine bottles all over the place. Boxes filled with who knows what crowded every empty space. The only clean area was his living room table in front of the viewer.

Going upstairs, he pulled off his jacket and shoes and tossed them on a pile before sitting on his bed. As he was about to turn off the lights to go to sleep, a small object caught his eye. It was a picture frame the size of his hand. Picking it up, he watched as the holograms within showed pictures of Garreth, Maysilee, and Kree in turn. There were pictures of them in the District, in the Capital, and the Games. His brow furrowed in confusion; he had never seen this frame before.

Suddenly, the hologram changed back to Garreth...a bloody and dying Garreth. A scream erupted from the edges of the frame. The next slide was a gurgling Maysilee, clutching desperately to her torn throat. Haymitch's hand began to shake as the next slide showed a dead Kree, her scream vibrating the frame as well as his ears. Suddenly, it stopped to reveal an older man with white hair and a thick beard.

"I hope you enjoy your gift, Mr. Abernathy," President Snow's hologram gave him a devilish smile, "Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be-"

Not wanting to hear the rest, Haymitch threw the object on the floor and dropped to his knees. Grabbing his knife from the table, he stabbed the frame as many times as he possibly could. Even after the mechanics stopped sparking and fizzling, he stabbed for all he was worth.

Breathing heavily, he leaned back against his bed. His eyes closed, yet he couldn't fall asleep.

"Kree," he said softly, "Garreth...May...The Capital will fall. And when it does, the odds will no longer be in their favor!"



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