Chapter 1: Paranoia is in bloom
"Sir! Sir!" Fernando Torres yells, running as fast as he can. Michael Richardson turns around and looks at him. "Mr. President." Torres says as he stops, eyes wide and out of breath.
"What can I help you with?" Richardson asks, keeping his voice flat.
"They.. got out." Fernando replies, his heart jumping up into his throat.
"Who got out of what?" Richardson snaps, rolling his eyes. "Look, boy. I don't have time for your games, so out with it."
Torres gulps and wipes his sweaty hands on his slacks. "The tributes.. they got out of the arena."
"WHAT?!" The President bellows, his face turning red with anger. "HOW THE FUCK IS THAT POSSIBLE?!"
"I-I don't kno-ow, sir." Torres says quietly, a lump forming in his throat.
"Tell me what you and Beckham are up to." Detective Mourinho demands, slamming his fist onto the table.
Goodell cocks his head to the side, "I don't know what you're-"
"Yes you do!" Mourinho shouts. Roger shakes his head, his mouth forming a thin line. Jose's blood boils with anger as he turns to leave-
"David is a smart man, smarter than you." Roger says, a smirk spreading across his face. "The Games will be very interesting this year, don't you think?"
Mourinho grunts and leaves.
Richardson barely resists the need to punch the wall. The evidence was right in front of him the whole time.
David Beckham was assigned the back wall - and that's likely where they made their escape.
Chapter 2: The PR transmission will resume
You can all thank indoorkites95 (jamiefli) for leaving motivational (and slightly threatening) comments and helping me to get my ass working.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
"..He'll be fine, Mr. Lemieux."
Who's that? Sidney thanks. The voice is deep with a heavy Swedish accent he swears he's heard before but can't think of who it belongs to.
"I wanna see him."
Sid's heart flutters at the sound of the Portuguese accent. He tries to open his eyes, but the light that filters through the slits hurt so he closes them.
"Mr. Ronaldo, he's under heavy medication and his response will be minimal at best. It'll be better if we let him rest."
"The doctor has spoken, Cristiano. We should-"
"I wanna se him." Cristiano repeats, cutting off Mario.
"Dr. Lundqvist is very good at his job and if he says we should leave him alone then we should respect that and go." Mario insists.
The Portuguese sighs. "I don't need to speak to him, I just want a quick look. It'll only take a few seconds. I really don't want my last memory of him to be on the ground.." he trails off. And Sidney doesn't have to see him to know he's choking up.
"Fine. You have thirty seconds." Mario says, the doctor grunts. Sid hears rustling of a curtain and assumes Dr. Lundqvist left. He knows that name from somewhere, but he cant place it.
"Hey.. Sidney." Cristiano whispers, his fingers lightly caressing the Canadian's cheek. Crosby's stomach flip flops from the gentle touch.
"I don't know if you can hear me or not,but.. the doc says you hit your head pretty hard." Cristiano says, his voice wavering. "He says you should be okay.. I know you will, though. You're naturally strong and.. and I have faith, which is a scary thing to say but I do. I've always had faith in you because I think I.. I lo-"
The curtain rustles. "Come on, Cristiano. Sid's mother and sister are here." Mario interrupts.
"When you wake up, things'll be very different." Cris says quietly, and presses a kiss to the Canadian's forehead. "Goodbye, for now."
Sidney wants to reach out and grab Ronaldo's hand, tell him not to go. But the Portuguese's smell - burned wood and trees - is already drifting away. In it's place is soap and bacon.
She talks quietly with Mario, but Sidney doesn't hear a word of it as he's already drifting back asleep.
Two days later
"I want you to take it easy for at least twenty four hours," Dr. Lundqvist instructs, eyeing Sidney.
Mario nods, putting a hand on Sidney's lower back. "I've got him from here, doc."
Mario guides Sid to a round shaped building. It's very large, but only in width because it's no more than a story high. There are a few other buildings, three to be exact, surrounding it. Each are marked with a letter (A-H). Mario leads him to building H, where there a several rooms following the curve of the wall each marked with a number (80-100). The older man explains that each building has twenty rooms in it, and he'll be staying in number 87 with his sister, mother, and his best friend James Neal.
After he gives Sidney the key, they go somewhere else. Mario says it's their private room for talking strategies. ("For us Victors." He adds with a wink.) He recognizes the people in the room - Beckham, Gretzky, Bettman, Ovechkin, Gerrard, Messi, Goc, and Marc - but there's this other guy he doesn't in the back and it's kind of bothering him because he's never forgotten a face before.
"Mario.. what happened?" Sid asks.
"You.. got out." Mario begins. No shit.
"A few of the people.. within the organization ensured that you and Cristiano did.. get out." Mario explains slowly.
"Who?" Sid asks. "And why us?"
"David Beckham, Gary Bettman, Wayne Gretzky, Alex Ovechkin, Evgeni Malkin, Steven Gerrard, Marcel Goc, Lionel Messi, and myself were the original nine. Roger Goodell and Marc were later additions." Lemieux answers, nodding to each man in the room.
"And we picked you and Cristiano because you're both beloved icons in the Capital." Beckham takes over, With the help of Mr. Malkin's expertise, we found that Steven and Marcel had compatible personalities."
"Okay.. keep going." Sidney nods. Though he's slightly disturbed as to why Goc and Gerrard were involved. Gerrard is a prick and isn't Goc still strapped down somewhere inside an institution?
Mario gulps, "The plan was to have the five of you meet by the back wall and then a truck would break through and you'd get out unscathed." He pauses to clear his throat, "But I guess our trajectory was off and when.. the truck broke the wall, you were hit by the blast and.. you have temporary short term memory loss."
"The arena wasn't the same as-" David starts but Sid cuts him off.
"The arena? Like in the Games?" Sidney questions. This doesn't make any sense. "But I haven't been in the Games in three years."
Mario grimaces, "Sid-"
--He doesn't hear anything his mentor says because he's overwhelmed by - by flashbacks. A kid with ginger hair - Claude - and his Swedish lover - Nicky. The cold, the snow. The cave, his precious cave. Blood, his scythe, the canons. Cristiano's lips against his. The crash. The pain--
Burned wood and trees surround him, along with a pair of arms. Portuguese lilted whispers of "It's okay, it's okay. I'm right here, right here." greet him when he comes back down, back to reality.
Sidney wipes his eyes with his wrist, subsequently wiping away the tears he hadn't known he was spilling. His throat is scratchy, as if if he'd been yelling - which was probably the case. The floor underneath him is cold - when did he get on the floor?
"You okay now, baby?" Cristiano asks, rubbing his shoulder.
Sidney isn't able to suppress the grin that spreads across his face when Cris calls him 'baby'. "I-I think so."
Ronaldo helps him up, and Sid blushes from the looks of pity from the men in the room.
"Okay, there's many things we need to discuss." David begins.
Okay, so this chapter isn't what i thought it would be, but I still like it, so I hope you guys do too. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated and I'd really love some comments.
Chapter 3: They'll try to push drugs that keep us all dumbed down
I'm going to write my Livejournal and Dreamwidth posts soon, I'm just being lazy. So watch the notes for that.
Thanks for reading. I hope you guys like this. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated )))
"YES DRILL SARGENT."
Sidney cringes at the yelling. He wonders if it would be rude if he started rubbing his ears.
"I want you all to meet Sidney Crosby," Sargent Orpik says much to loud than what anyone should, "He will be your Fifth in Command. If either Bettman, Beckham, Lemieux, or Gretzky are unavailable you will all turn to him unless you are in the middle of war. Do you understand?"
"YES DRILL SARGENT!"
Sid cringes again, and shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably.
"Private Bennett and Private Bortuzzo. Step forward." The two rookies do as they're told, "Bennett, you will be stationed in Platoon One with Lemieux, Crosby, Ronaldo, and Malkin. Bortuzzo, you will be in Station Two with Beckham, Goc, Ovechkin, and Götze. Do you understand?"
"Yes drill Sargent!"
"Good!" Orpik yells, "Now move!"
Brooks turns to Sid and says in a much quieter voice, "Sidney, please come with me to Platoon One." Sidney nods in understanding and gestures for the Sargent to lead.
Richardson storms into the room, his face bright red. To say he's pissed is an understatement. He throws the brown sac that he was holding onto the table. Turning it upside down, burnt pieces of metal along with blue and green wires frayed at the edges fall out.
"These are the leftovers of the rebel's bomb." Michael explains, irritation shining through his voice, "We have yet to determine who made it considering none of our suspects have military training. But that will come with time." He bangs the table. "Somebody tell me they have some good news."
"Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane, two newly hired stylists assigned to Crosby, fled from their joint apartment at the same time the tributes escaped. Their third partner, Irina Shayk was taken into custody this morning but claims not to know anything." Mourinho says. "We have Detective Amanda Kessel interrogating her right now."
"Anything else?" Richardson asks impatiently.
Torres clears his throat quietly, but it sounds magnified in the still room. "We sent pictures of the rebels to all cities, big and small, and told them to contact us if they find anything. So far we have narrowed their location down to north Asia."
"Well.. that's better than nothing." Richardson mumbles before storming back out of the room.
"I can't believe you brought him without telling us." Tom Renney complains for the fifth time since he learned that Götze would be coming with them. Marcel's fists curl into balls that he pins to his sides.
"I mean, we said four. Four. Not five. What're we supposed to do with him? How do we know if he's compatible?" Renney questions. The guy just loves to bitch.
"The only person who has a problem with Mario is you." Goc growls louder than he meant to.
"Goc is right," Evgeni says, "No one sure how treat him, but everyone like Mario. No problems that I'm see."
Wayne sighs, "Look. Götze is on the second platoon and an accepted member of our community. No more discussion."
Tom looks like he wants to keep arguing, but knows better than to do so. Instead, he slumps back in his seat and remains quiet during the rest of the meeting.
"Crosby and Lemieux are already with Orpik in Platoon One catching Sidney up on all of the things he missed during his recovery. When you go back to your apartments you will find on your bed a neatly folded uniform that you will be required to wear, next to it will be a printed schedule that you must follow on a day-to-day basis." Beckham says rolling up his sleeves, "For every Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday you will skip your schedule and report to training with your Lieutenant at six a.m. No exceptions will be made to this rule. If anyone has a problem with this we will gladly book you a flight back to the Capital. Do I have any takers?" Complete silence. David smiles. "Good. You're dismissed."
Marcel grabs Götze's hand, "Come to my room in fifteen minutes."
"Wow." Mario breaths, running his fingers through Marcel's sweaty hair. Goc lays his head on the other German's bare chest.
"Yeah." Marcel murmurs in agreement.
"You know," Mario begins a few minutes later, "this room is oddly across romantic." He gestures to the candles and the flower petals laying the ground. They were previously on the bed but had fallen when they landed on the sheets.
"I love you." Goc whispers.
"Love you too." Götze returns cheerily, his smile evident in his voice. Marcel takes in a deep breath and reaches for his pants.
"There was something I wanted to ask you babe." Marcel says, turning back to his lover. Götze cocks his head slightly to the left, surprise in his gorgeous eyes. He sits up, looking at him expectantly.
Marcel bites his lip, suddenly hit by nerves. He forces them to go away. He's been thinking about this for way to long to have it be ruined because he turned into a wimp.
Rain pours down onto Marcel's helmet. It's way to big for him, but they didn't have head coverings for someone as small as him.
"Don't worry, son. We'll get you bigger." Dr. Lundqvist said. But Marcel doesn't even know what that means.
Marcel remembers watching a movie called Forrest Gump some time ago. He doesn't remember the details, he recalls the narrator saying " You know, it's funny what a young man recollects. 'Cause I don't remember being small if you know what I mean. I, I don't recall what I got for my first Christmas and I don't know when I went on my first outdoor picnic. But, I do remember the first time I heard the sweetest voice in the wide world."
"Hey. Why you just standing there?" The most beautiful voice asks, looking at him like he was stupid.
"I... I don't know what I'm doing here." Marcel says quietly. "My name's Marcel."
The kid, this gorgeous kid, takes his hand, "I'm Mario Götze. Let's go find your platoon Sargent."
He already knows he's in love.
Goc snaps out of his flashback, his fingertips lightly caressing the other German's check, as if he could take away his worry.
"Marry me." He finishes the question. But it comes out more as a demand.
Götze's mouth falls open. "Like.. for real?"
Mario closes his eyes, a grin spreading across his face. "Okay. Okay. Yes."
Chapter 4: And hope that we will never see the truth around
I haven't written this five in a while. But i just watched The Mockingjay part one and.. well...
Anyways. I hope you guys like this chapter. All feedback is greatly appreciated. In sorry for the long wait. Thanks for reading )))
Sidney listens as Brooks explains how the rebellion had been planned for years. Even before Cristiano or Sid himself had been called. The year after David Beckham became Head Gamemaker he formed a group - Wayne, Tom, Gary, Mario, and Ricardo. The Original Six they called themselves.
The plan, originally, was to do it two years ago - Marc's year - but things had gone awry when Fernando Torres, an intern to the apartment dedicated to the construction of the arena, had found the flaw in Beckham's blueprint. Torres corrected the situation and informed his boss immediately.
So, they decided to do it the next year. But Beckham had become paranoid that Roger Goodell, Torres, and some other colleagues had been snooping around his office, secretly gathering evidence that will destroy everything they built.
Then they caught wind of the next year's - this year's - secret twist, and decided to just postpone it all once again.
"Being a Victor is like being a brand," Brooks explains, "Everyone has a favorite, and they pay top dollar for them.
"I'm sure you can imagine how many women and men flock to Cristiano Ronaldo. He was hand picked by Beckham because those people would literally die for him if he asked." Orpik continues. Sidney forces down the jealousy that he feels bubble up inside him. "Mario was supposed to go in since he has the most veteran experience amongst us, and he was the only previous Victor from the Original Six. Wayne wanted you, though. Said you're smart, strong, and good with words. To say he was.. pleased when you volunteered is an understatement."
"That's great and everything. But how did Goc, Götze, and Gerrard get wrapped up in it?" Sidney asks. Those three seem like the least likely trio to ever exist. Let alone be a big part of a plot to essentially save the world.
"That's where Malkin comes into play."
A rather tall man with limbs that are to long for his body comes forward, extending his large hand to Sid, who suddenly feels very small. "As Mario said earlier, I'm Evgeni. I'm a profiler who specializes in couple crimes."
"Its.. its nice to meet you." He faintly remembers killing someone., who may have been Russian. Probably not a good way to get on this guy's good side.
Evgeni smiles. "David assigned me to find two suitable matches that will watch your's and Cristiano's backs in the arena. I'm told them that it was not needed since you two were very compatible and would work together. But I guess is good thing since Goc kept Careers away and Gerrard killed off the rest. Götze was just a friend of Goc, and was brought along."
"Wait.. so, all these people knew and didn't say anything?" Sid asks. He didn't even know he liked Cris (beyond the attraction) until they agreed to an alliance. Yet, they knew? Because their personalities fit well?
"No one was allowed to say anything or someone could find out. David, Gary, and Wayne were very risky with their discussions as it was. We're lucky Roger was dedicated to our mission despite just coning in and didn't spill our secrets when he was captured and killed." Brooks explains, keeping his hands behind his back and voice flat. "Mario had also commanded everyone to not breath a word of this to absolutely anyone, especially not you or Ronaldo. Should the Capital have found out about our plans he didn't want either of you to be punished since you were never informed of the plan. That way a back up group would be able to take over and continue without missing a beat. Thankfully that wasn't necessary."
Sidney nods, because that makes since. Whoever-
Mario - the man who raised him, who he considers his father - knew about this the entire fucking time and never told him. Rules be, damned. Sidney is supposed to be his son, someone he cares about even if they're not related by blood. He played the "worried father" role but he knew Sid was never in any actual danger?
"Is my sister here?" Sid asks. The memories he has from his stay in the hospital are fuzzy, but he doesn't remember seeing her. The other men exchange a look.
"Not yet. One of our platoons is on their way to Canada to perform a rescue mission." The American answers. "We were unable to reach your sister since she was at school at the same time we were getting you five out of the arena.. We were able to get your mother, who's studying with the other nurses, and James Neal. He's currently training in a special program as a nurse, where he'll eventually be promoted to doctor status. James was your primary nurse during your stay in the hospital since he's Dr. Lundqvist's apprentice."
"Lundqvist? Henrik Lundqvist? The Victor?" That guy seems like the most Capital-styled product ever (so did Cris, at one point. But that is neither here nor there).
"No, his twin, Joel."
The thought comes rushing back to Sidney, knocking the air out of his lungs again. This is all so much. He needs - he needs -
"I want to see him." Sid demands. "James. I want to see James."
The Russian nods. "I'm take you to him. Then you go home, rest. Has been long day."
"I was just about to suggest the same thing." Brooks says. "Take the rest of the day off. But tomorrow morning, report back here in your uniform to begin training."
"See you at six A.M. sharp, Commander Crosby."
Evgeni opens the door for him, allowing Sid to go first but leading the way to the hospital. Sidney's heart picks up at the thought of seeing James - his best friend. Someone he mentally bid farewell to in the arena - if someone told him he'd be here, about to meet Nurse Neal for the first tine in what, months? He wouldn't have believed them.
Especially if they told him about this.. this.. rebellion. Maybe that's why Mario hadn't told him...
"Sid!" James squeaks, enveloping his friend in a hug. Sidney smiles wrapping his arms around the other's back.
"I can't believe I get to see you again - I mean. I always hoped I would. But you know, the other tributes were tough as fuck, and you couldn't hurt a fly unless it bit you.. I'm just kidding. Flies can't bite. And you'd totally kick its ass anyways. Cause you're a bad ass and that's what badasses do, eh?" James rambles, squeezing him tight. Sidney's smile stretches wider, and he giggles helplessly. The rambling brings tears to his eyes.
"Yeah.. you too." Sid returns. "But I'll always come back. How would you live without me?"
James breaths a laugh as he takes a step back, "I don't even know, man. I haven't lived a day since I first saw your ugly mug in second grade, don't wanna start now." Sidney chuckled, shaking his head. It's been nearly ten years since he ran into this goof, and he's held his perfect styled head close to his heart.
"So," Neal says, stretching out the 'o', "You and Cristiano Ronaldo, eh?" He waggles his eyebrows, causing the smaller Canadian to blush. "Fuck you." He retorts, biting his lip to prevent the laugh from escaping his throat.
James smirks like the fucker he is, "I don't think I'm the one you wanna be fucking."
"Sorry intrude, but I'm believe Commander Crosby need go get rest." Evgeni says with a dazzling smile.
The brunette raises his eyebrows. "Commander, eh? Been in the hospital for three days and you're already up there in the ranks. Typical you." He chuckles, throwing an arm around Sid's neck. "Goodnight, my Savior. I love you."
Sidney tenses up, "James-"
"It's okay. We're safe here." Neal presses a kiss to the smaller man's temple. "You might wanna keep that in mind when you see Mr. Ronaldo again."
He's not sure what that's supposed to mean. But the idea of seeing Cristiano distracts him from thinking - and Evgeni escorts him away before he replies. "Are you, like, my bodyguard?"
Evgeni chuckles. "No. Just help you get around today. Don't want you get lost on first day."
"Oh." A thought suddenly dawns on Sidney. "Do you know Alexander Ovechkin?"
Malkin snorts, a smirk crossing his lips. "Is husband."
Whoa. Whoa. Wait. What?
"Your husband?" Sid asks. "As in, like, married?" Evgeni nods. "So you're both, uh, gay?"
"So are you." Evgeni says. "Sanja is no Cristiano Ronaldo, though." He sticks his tongue out between his teeth, winking suggestively. Sid feels his face heat, again. Causing him to avert his gaze to the ground.
"When - when can I see him?" Sid questions, buying his bottom lip.
"Don't know Cristiano's schedule. But will see him tomorrow at training, share platoon."
"Will you be there?"
"No. I'm on two, with Sanja and Beckham."
"Sanja being Ovechkin?" Evgeni hums a confirmation.
"Here is complex. Know where go?" Evgeni asks. Sid nods. "Yeah, it's right there." He points to the door right in front of them.
"Remember wake up. Brooksie not one mess with." Evgeni warns and walks away.
Sidney sighs, turning the knob to his room. A sudden wave of sleepiness hits him, making his eyelids droop. Yawning, he pulls his shirt over his head and drops to the bed, kicking his boots off.
What even is his life anymore? His baby sister is still in Canada, probably mourning the loss of her mother and brother. His best friend is training to be come a doctor. He's smitten by basically a complete stranger. He's playing a big role in overturning the Capital. And the man he considers his father has been lying to him the whole time.
Maybe sleep will help him figure it out...
"You ready to do this, Sid?" Kris asks, leaning against him.
"Who's ever ready?" Sid scoffs, running a hand through his long black-
Kris's hair isn't orange, and it's definitely not short. What the
"You deserve to win, Sidney. Nobody wants me here anyways."
Sidney blinks. "Claude? What-"
"Why are you helping me? Need to make up for all the people you've killed? Those you couldn't protect?"
Nicky? "I tried to help you, Nicky. I did. You-you ran off."
A weird mixture of Claude's, Kris's, and Nicky's face morphs together, a snarl on his - their? - face(s?) "Did we run off, or did you let us go?"
Sidney jumps at the feeling of arms wrapping around him, wiping at the sweat on his forehead.
"It's okay, baby. It's just me." Cristiano whispers, kissing the top of his head. Sid melts, turning his face up to peck at the Portuguese's lips. Cris kisses him again, caressing his jaw as their lips move in a slow, tender embrace.
Cristiano pulls away. "Go back to sleep, deslumbrante . You need the rest."
"Cris." Sid whispers as sleep pulls him back into the darkness.