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SHALL WE RISE?

act three. 

(chapter forty-nine, but the final wisps began to leave her)

a memory / a shop, 2313.

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ONLY ONE THING CAME to Valencia's mind. A distant memory. A memory that was so long ago that she could barely remember it. It was a memory that took place a month before her father's death. She was eight. And it was within the woods of Nine. 

They had not won their Games in this time, they did not live in Victors' Village, they could barely get food on the table, and their mother was not mentally gone. Their father was determined to teach his kids how to hunt and he had done so. Valencia remembered this memory barely, vaguely remembered how her father leaned against a tree, herself crouching down at a river whilst her brother was practicing with a makeshift bow and arrows that their father made. 

The woods were beautiful that day. It looked like it normally did, but it was stunning. It was dark and blooming, the thick branches suspending from the occasional tree and creating shade. But shimmering lights were able to glow down here and there in the gaps, radiating on their faces and the boulder covered grounds. Array of flowers blossomed brightly with vibrant colours. Animal noises filled the air, birds chirping high up and a frog croaking from the river. It was like heaven.

There was the occasional groan coming from a fifteen-year-old Antares, who had his tongue sticking out as he trained an arrow at a bird sitting in the branches. Valencia, eight-years-old, was crouched on the muddy dirt as she bent down into the river, watching the different fish swim by with adoring eyes. Their father, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed and a bright smile on his face, watched Antares.

"You need to strengthen that arm, bud," their father spoke out, causing both of the little children to look up. "You've got the shakes... here."

He pushed himself off the tree and jogged over to his son, who still had the bow in his hand, and slowly placed his hand on his shoulder and elbow. He gently pulled his shoulder backward and straightened his elbow so his arm was straight as he pulled the bowstring. Their father was pointing up to the bird, whispering things in the boy's ear that little Valencia could not hear. She didn't care, she was too fascinated with the fish. 

"And... release."

A whizzing sound echoed around the air as young Antares let the arrow fly. It flew through the air and landed right into the eye of the bird that was in the branch. It fell down and landed on the dirt, their father laughing whilst Antares had a massive, beaming smile on his face.

"Well, would you look at that?" Their father patted him on the back. "Right in the eye. That's what you want." Antares chuckled as he looked at the bird. "Well, go on. Go collect your prize."

With a giggle, Antares went leaping on the rocks that formed a path on the river, handing the bow and arrows back to his father as he went to the other side of the bank.

"Can I have a go?" Valencia asked her father, her voice childish and somewhat squeaky, giving the older man a toothy smile.

"When you're older, chicken." He chuckled as he bent down beside her, ruffling her hair. "I can't let an eight-year-old run around with a lethal weapon."

"It's not like I'm going to kill anyone," she told her father, which only made him laugh more.

"You're too sweet to kill anyone, Lennie," her father told her before nodding his head at the river, saying, "You looking at the fish?"

"Can we catch one for dinner?" Valencia asked.

"And pretend to be from District Four?" Her father gasped jokingly. "You, my dear, are a proud District Nine civilian. And those fish are too small for dinner. Maybe we can go to the markets afterwards and find one if that's what you really want."

"Yes, please!" She smiled as her father held out his hand, Valencia taking it quickly as he helped stand her up. "And I heard Mr. Commie and Mr. Tukker say that District Four is much better than Nine."

"Did they now?" 

"Who are we talking about?" Antares asked as he came leaping over to them, the bird in his hand. "Who said Four is better than Nine?"

"Flint Commie and Daniel Tukker." Their father winced.

"Oh, the drunkards." Antares nodded. "They're not wrong. Four is better than Nine."

"Where is this coming from?" Their father shook their head as he looked down at his children. "I thought we were proud District Nine people."

"We are." Antares shrugged as he handed the bird to his father, who placed it in the satchel by his side. "It's just a fact that Four is better than Nine. I mean, we make bread—"

"And they have fish!"

"Well, so many districts have fish," their father began to say. "But us in Nine, we are the bread bowl of Panem. Without us, no-one would have bread. What would they make their sandwiches out of? Fish?"

"Maybe they don't have sandwiches in Four," Antares pointed out. "Maybe they just eat pure seafood. Like salmon salads or tuna rolls."

"Aha! Where would the rolls come from?" Their father laughed. "Here in Nine."

Antares rolled his eyes as his father shoved him playfully whilst wrapping an arm around Valencia, the three of them beginning to walk back. They admired all the animals that were in the trees or sitting on the boulders. Their father even let the two kids run ahead, Antares chasing after Valencia. This was the time where they were happy. Their mother would be expecting them at home, a bright smile on her face as she hugged her two children tight. This was the time where the two didn't win the Games, where they weren't even Reaped yet. This was the time where their father hadn't gotten killed in the factory accident.

But that was all a month away. In a months time, a Peacekeeper would knock on their front door and give them the news. Their mother would cry hysterically in a month whilst Antares shielded Valencia away from seeing it. In a month, the three of them would be walking to the morgue, seeing the freezing, mangled body that was their father's. His smile would be absent and would be replaced by a grey, blank face. His eyes wouldn't be filled with warmth like they usually were, they would be looking at them without any life. His arms would be missing, torn from his body. In a month time, this memory did not matter. In a month, their father would be dead.

And then in sixteen years time, Antares would be too. He would die for a cause. In sixteen years, Antares would not smile again, he would not laugh again. In sixteen years, Antares would be decapitated by the lizard mutts, his body getting torn apart by the Holo that Katniss would set off. In sixteen years, Antares would have won his Games and so would sweet, little Valencia. In sixteen years, Valencia would be the only Barlowe left living.

She tried hard to hold onto that memory she had stored in the back of her head, tried to convince her mind that Antares, her father, and mother were still alive, trying to persuade her mind that she was eight again and in the woods with her father and brother. But every time she tried to clutch onto the dear memory, it would escape her fingers like gas. And every time it did, Valencia would be reminded that she was not in the woods. Her father and mother weren't alive. Her brother wasn't alive. And she was in the house of some random, dead women. Valencia was in a random house with bits of her dead brother's flesh on her.

"How long do you think we have before they figure out some of us could've survived?" Katniss asked once everyone was safely inside the house, Valencia off to the side with Finnick and Nova as she stared down at the floor. Antares was dead.

"I think they could be here anytime," Gale responded. "They knew we were heading for the streets. Probably the explosion will throw them for a few minutes, then they'll start looking for our exit point."

Peeta was sitting on a velvet couch with his teeth clamped down on a pillow to fight off his madness and screams. Gale was losing blood from a wound on his neck. Nova had tears in her eyes as she tried to blink them away, rubbing her red nose. Finnick, which Valencia just realised, had a tear in his trousers which showed three cuts going diagonally down the lateral compartment of his leg. Pollux was sobbing against the fireplace over Castor. Cressida was standing determinedly by Katniss side though her lips were deathly pale. And Valencia. Valencia was looking down at the floor as she tried to figure out what had happened only a few moments ago. The only person working properly was Katniss.

"Let's check her closets," she said.

In a bedroom, they found hundreds of the women's outfits with cloaks, shoes, wigs, and so much makeup. Across the hall, there was a section for a man with multiple trench coats and suits with also some absurd wigs. With this, Katniss called out for them to get dressed.

Slowly, Valencia pulled on a flowing crimson cloak and a brown coat underneath which concealed her uniform and weapons. They all hung their boots around their necks by the laces and put on some ridiculous Capitol shoes instead. But the big problem was about getting recognised. Cressida and Pollux by acquaintances, Gale from propos, and then the five Victors' were known by every single citizen in Panem. And so, they applied thick makeup with wigs and sunglasses. Cressida put scarves over the Victors' mouths and noses. And then, they stuffed extra food and supplies in their pockets before walking out of the front door and into the crowded streets that were filled with Capitol people. They had gone outside of the evacuation zones.

It was cold outside, snow showering down on them as people bumped into them, apologising with their silly accents. But as they crossed the street and passed some more apartments, the crowd began to die down and only a bundle of people walked past. And as they turned the corner, three dozen Peacekeepers swept past tham and so, they moved out of the way like everyone else did, waiting until the crowd turned back to normal.

Katniss and Cressida were in-front with the four Victors' behind them and Gale and Pollux. Valencia was trying to remain calm, trying to tone down the thoughts that were happening in her broken mind. She tried to grasp onto the memory of the woods and when she was eight, but she could feel the final wisps begin to leave her hand. And then as they covered another block, a siren began. Valencia peered up and could see from an apartment an emergency report with the pictures of their faces flashing. She watched calmly as the faces went by, but then Antares. When Antares faced show up, Valencia quickly snapped her head back down as she felt a single tear slip down from her eye. Finnick was quick to clutch her hand and for the rest of the walk, Valencia clung onto him.

They ended up at a grubby storefront that was filled with mannequins wearing furry underwear. Cressida pushed the front door open and a chime tune went off. The shop was dim and narrow, being lined with racks of clothing. They were the only customers and Valencia could see a hunched shadow in the back and as they neared, everyone rose an eyebrow. 

The woman behind the counter looked exactly like a tiger. She had her skin pulled back tightly with black and gold stripes tattooed like the said animal. Her nose was flattened and she had long cat whiskers. She was definitely enhanced by plastic surgery.

"Tigris," Cressida said as she pulled her wig off. "We need help. Plutarch said you could be trusted."

At this, Tigris gave a low growl as she stood off her stool and disappeared behind a rack of fur leggings. A sliding sound echoed around and then her tattooed hand emerged, waving them forward. With a cautious look, they all walked through the fur to find Tigris gesturing them to enter through a steep stone stairway that went into a basement. They all entered slowly, Katniss pulling a hanging chain and turning the lightbulb on.

The cellar was small with no doors. It was wide, but shallow. It was cold and damp, some of the others shivering as they entered. They heard the panel slide back up, a rack being adjusted on a pair of squeaky wheels. The lighting was dim and everyone barely managed to walk around normally without bumping into anything. 

They, somehow, managed to make a bed of pelts and Gale collapsed onto one, Katniss trying to heal his neck wound. Finnick was wincing as he slowly slumped down on one of the beds.

Valencia, trembling, snatched a random piece of fabric and wandered over to a faucet that was about a foot from the floor with a drain underneath. Katniss was already there, watching it splutter with rust before clear water began to flow. The two women kneeled in silence as they wet their cloths before going back to their patients. 

Finnick looked at her with sympathetic eyes as he watched her roll up his trouser pant a bit above the wound. With a shaky hand, Valencia began to wipe the blood clean from his leg, trying to hold in the tears as she cleaned his wound, bandaging it up. Antares was dead. Her brother was dead. 

"Lennie—"

"It's not deep," she interrupted him, taking deep sighs as she wiped her eyes. "It doesn't need stitches, but it's going to hurt. Just let it heal naturally and change the bandage regularly."

"Lennie," Finnick repeated, lifting her chin up with his finger. "You don't have to pretend."

When the tears came flooding down her cheeks, Finnick instantly pulled her into his chest, holding her head as he buried his hand into her hair. She clutched onto his uniform, balling it up in her fists as her sobs echoed around the cellar. Antares was dead. Her brother got decapitated by the mutts. His body was exploded. She didn't have anything to bury. With her father, she had a head, legs, and a torso. With her mother, a fully body. But with Antares, all she had was his memory.

And Valencia sobbed hard. Her tears made an entire wet patch on Finnick's chest, her throat growing tight as her heart went numb. She could tell sympathetic eyes landed on her as she cried her soul out, but she didn't care. Her brother just died. She could do whatever she wanted. But when Katniss told everyone that they should just all go to sleep and not bother with someone keeping watch, Valencia was forced to lay down beside Finnick, tears still rolling down her cheeks as she looked up at the ceiling. She didn't want to go to sleep. She didn't want to face the nightmares that threatened her whenever she closed her eyes. 

And so, it was Katniss, Cressida, and Valencia all awake. She could see the two other women up and talking, but Finnick had his arm draped over Valencia's waist and she didn't want to risk waking him up. And as she studied his sleeping face, she realised something. He would've seen Antares die. It was him and Antares on the ladder. Antares would have been grabbed by the mutts whilst Finnick got grabbed by Katniss. The two would have seen Valencia's brother die. Thinking this, Valencia looked up at the ceiling, sighing softly as more tears began to run down her cheek. Her brother was dead. And so was she. 

It was when everyone else woke up that Katniss came clean that she wasn't actually assigned a mission from Coin to kill Snow, saying that she jeopardised everyone just for revenge. There was a long silence.

"Katniss, we all knew you were lying about Coin sending you to assassinate Snow," Gale told her finally.

"You knew, maybe," Katniss said. "The soldiers from Thirteen didn't."

"I doubt Jackson believed you," Finnick muttered. "But she believed in Boggs and he obviously wanted you to carry on by giving you the Holo."

"I never even told Boggs what I planned to do."

"You told everyone in Command!" Gale scoffed. "It was one of your conditions for being the Mockingjay. 'I kill Snow'."

"But not like this." Katniss shook her head. "It's been a complete disaster."

"Not really," Nova mumbled as she looked up from the floor. "We managed to show that the Capitol's defences are crappy. We have the whole city in turmoil trying to find us. And we have so much footage of us on Capitol news that Plutarch should be overjoyed right now."

"Trust me, he is," Cressida agreed.

"But, Lennie." Katniss sighed. "I killed Terry."

"You didn't kill Terry, Katniss," Valencia began to say, the flame glowing brighter in her heart as she sighed. "Snow did. And Terry wasn't a moron, he knew you were lying, but he knew that you could kill Snow. No-one that's died in this squad died for a lost cause."

"She's right." Peeta nodded his head. "None of them were idiots, they knew what they were getting themselves into. They followed you because they believed you really could kill Snow."

Katniss swallowed as she stared at the ground before shaking her head and asked, "Where are we, Cressida?"

"About five blocks from the City Circle and Snow's mansion," she said. "We're in easy walking distant to a zone where the pods are deactivated for civilians' safety."

"And we have disguises." Finnick nodded his head. "Could get us out into the crowd safely."

"But isn't the mansion heavily guarded?" Katniss asked. "It would be impossible to enter without getting caught."

"What we need is to get him out in the open," Gale replied. "Then one of us could pick him off."

"Does he ever appear in public anymore?" Nova asked, wincing.

"I don't think so." Cressida shook her head. "At least in all the recent speeches I've seen, he's been in the mansion. Even before the rebels got here. I imagine he became more vigilant after what Valencia and Antares said in that propo on the day of the rescues."

"I bed he'd come out for me," Katniss suggested. "If I were captured. He'd want that as public as possible. He'd want my execution on his front steps. Then Gale could shoot him from the audience."

"No," Valencia said softly. "That's too dangerous and there's too many possibilities. What if he decides to not make it public? Or what if he kills you in the mansion and puts your corpse on display? I didn't save your ass in the arena just for you to die anyway."

"Yeah." Peeta nodded his head. "You never know, maybe Snow might decide to keep you and torture information out of you. Or have you executed publicly without being present."

"Gale?" Katniss asked.

"It seems like an extreme solution to jump to immediately," Gale said. "Maybe if all else fails. Let's keep thinking."

But they weren't given anymore time, for the panel at the top of the stairs slid open with Tigris standing at the top, telling them, "Come up. I have some food for you."

As they climbed the stairs and walked to the counter, they saw a loaf of stale bread, a wedge of mouldy cheese, and a bottle of mustard. They all swallowed down any objections they had and began to eat the decaying good. As they did, they watched the Capitol news coverage where they had manage to narrow the squad down to the eight of them with huge bounties being offered for information. They played clips of the gunfire between the Peacekeepers' and then a tribute to the woman that Katniss killed back in the apartment. The rebels let the broadcast play out uninterrupted. 

And even after the food and they had all walked back down to the cellar, no rebels had come out to contact them. And so, they tried to rack their brains for a plan, but nothing good came up. But they all agreed that they couldn't go out in a group of eight anymore and that they should try invade the president's mansion before Katniss turned herself into bait. And with it decided, bandages were changed and people tried to lay down to sleep. 

All Valencia could dream of was Antares. The reality of his death hit her like a ton of bricks, smashing her face in as she tried to stand up. Every time where she thought she was getting better, where she thought things might be okay, reality has to hit her down again. It was with her Reaping, with her victory, with Finnick, with Commie and everyone else, with Antares. She finally thought that they were all right again, with the exception of all the secrets they kept from each other, she really thought they were okay. And then Antares got killed. He got killed by Snow. Snow was the bricks. Snow was the person hitting her back down over and over again. The flames grew much brighter that Valencia could practically feel it burning her heart. She was scared that the flames might burn her.

Even in the morning when they were having a breakfast of liver pate and fig cookies, the flame was burning her up. They had gathered around Tigris's television to watch one of the rebel broadcasts. There was a new development in the war where a rebel commander came up with the idea of confiscating people's abandoned automobiles and sending them down unmanned through the streets to set off most of the pods. And by four in the morning, the rebels had made three separate paths which were labeled as the A, B, and C lines to the Capitol's heart.

"This can't last." Gale scoffed. "In fact I'm surprised they've kept it going so long. The Capitol will adjust by deactivating specific pods and then manually triggering them when their targets come in range." And that exact thing happened as they watched a squad send down a car, setting off four pods. Three scouts followed and made it to the end of the street, but the group of twenty followed them and they were soon all blown to bits by a row of potted rosebushes in-front of a flower shop. And when the broadcast went back to the Capitol, a reported announced that civilians were to evacuate.

Valencia and Katniss both moved to the windows and looked out of the cracks in the shutters. People in large groups were moving towards the centre of the Capitol. They were all wearing just night attire and slippers, carrying the oddest things with them from bags of makeup to cardboard boxes and to lapdogs. And then trailing behind the parents were sleepy and confused little kids who held onto their favourite stuffed toys and dolls. (The stitching was falling apart around the mouth and one of the button eyes had popped off, but other than that, Valencia loved the teddy) All were confused and looked around absentmindedly as they clutched onto their parents hands. The sight made Valencia's heart clench, especially when she saw a brother and sister holding hands.