Chapter Text
“Ah, Germania Beilschmidt,” the governor said, “I have a job for you.”
“A job?” Germania asked.
“Yes, my boy, a job, a purpose. You’ve been needing one of those, haven’t you?”
Germania hated how much the governor knew. He hated being watched and fawned over, traded and broken and built up again as a plaything for the Capitol and One politics.
He shrugged his shoulders inelegantly.
“What’s the job?” he said.
“I want you to adopt a kid,” the governor said. Oh fuck. It was almost enough to make Germania feel panicky. He was not cut out to be a father.
“You found one of my bastards then?” he asked. It was an inevitability, more of less. So many of the Capitol girls refused to let him use protection. The prospect of STDs would have terrified him a little if he didn’t half-hope he would contract some form of terrible venereal disease. The press would just love that. Worst case scenario he’d die, best case, it’d just make him unfuckable.
The governor chuckled. “No,” he said, breaking Germania out of an almost-daydream of wasting away in peace. “I want you to adopt an orphan.”
“I’m not exactly father material,” Germania pointed out what should be obvious.
“I’m not asking,” The governor said, “And besides, I’m not telling you to actually raise the kid. This is recruitment. Do you know how long it’s been since One won one of the Games?”
“Ten years,” Germania said dully.
“Exactly! Ten years. That’s an embarrassment. Two has won four times and Four has won twice in that time. Do you know why that is?”
Germania shrugged.
“Optics,” the governor said, “We just aren’t popular. If the Capitol wants the top dog they root for Two, if they want a good, old fashioned country kid who actually has a chance unlike the rest of the rabble, they root for Four. Part of the appeal of the Games for the Capitol is a good rags-to-riches story, and we’re just too well-off these days to make that compelling for them. What we need is an underdog, a good sob story. There’s this orphanage down in the south where the owner’s embezzling ninety percent of the funds. The kids there are sure to be living in as much squalor and deprivation as any brat from Twelve. I want you to go down there and pick one out to be our next Victor. I want them raised to be a fighting machine, no family, no prior commitments. They say a little starvation early in life prepares you for the Games, so that’ll just be a bonus. You don’t need to take full responsibility, just drop him off at the school. Call it a group effort.”
Germania thought, “If you know this guy is embezzling and starving children, why aren’t you doing anything about it?” He thought, “You know that the idea that malnutrition in early stages of childhood development is a good thing in any way, shape, or form is really stupid, right?” But of course he didn’t say any of that. He said, “How far is the orphanage? Do I get a car?”
“No,” the governor said, “Officially this is just a spontaneous choice on your part, no government involvement. It should only take you about a day to walk. Here’s a map, you’ll go tomorrow.”
Germania sighed and took the map.