Chrystie kneaded the seat anxiously. One by one, the tributes were called into the Gamemaker’s room. They took /forever/ and District 8 was even on the later side! The cats all returned with more than ruffled fur and drooping tails. /What even were they doing in there??/ “Chrysanthemum Ivyer!” The capitol announcer peeked around the corner with a clipboard in hand. She pushed herself off the seat and willingly walked into the Gamemaker’s room. The Gamemaker’s room was filled with large tunnels and vents. Before Chrystie could begin to ask what they were for, a large sheep balloon floated from the central trapdoor and the hum of an engine starting emanated from the vents. In a split second, she had been knocked flat and was currently being pushed around like a feather in the wind. Through the corner of her squinted eye, she could just barely make out a Gamemaker, eating shrimp scampi, pointing to the balloon with their fork. Okay, so she was supposed to get the sheep balloon. Struggling to her feet, her long fur obscuring her sight, Chrystie crouched down, preparing to leap. With all her might, she pushed off, aiming for the ceiling. An inner voice scoffed. /Of course you can’t get it like that. You can’t jump high enoug--/ It shut up immediately as her feet were lifted off the ground, swept up by the wind, legs and tail thrashing as she tried to adapt to this new way of getting around. The balloon was still bouncing along the ceiling, but it might as well have been on the moon. /Okay, be creative. Impress the Capitol./ The glass barrier shielding the Gamemakers was relatively less turbulent. /Guess they didn’t want their view to be obstructed./ Chrystie let the wind carry her upwards, as close to the balloon as possible, and she tried to bat the balloon, trying to persuade the balloon to the safest corner possible. Her frantic movement did almost nothing against the winds. /So that didn’t work./ she thought, slightly panicking. Her Gamemakers time would be more than half over by now. Squinting down at the vents, she noticed that one would increase in strength periodically, rotating from the left top corner to the right bottom corner. Which meant...the balloon in two minutes was going to be pushed towards the Gamemakers’ control room. Positioning herself directly above a vent, she allowed it to carry her up into the metal ceiling rafters right as it increased in strength. Climbing along them, her muscles screamed at the combined effort of holding her weight and fighting the wind. /I can’t fail. I’d get something like two out of twelve for “Effort” I suppose./ Eventually, she reached the Gamemaker’s barrier. Those inside were either slacking and slurping down pasta or watching intently, wearing bemused expressions at the cat hanging right in front of them. /I suppose factory grunt work has paid off./ Smiling lightly at them, she poked out her tongue teasingly and lifted a paw to wave hello. However easy she made it seem, it still couldn’t hide the fact that she was, slowly but surely, slipping off. The winds raged around her, pushing her off, like those from the train window but much, much worse. Her eyes felt gritty from trying to maintain a wide-eyed, cute smile in front of the Gamemakers and her arms were sore and hands scrabbling to find purchase on the slick metal rafters.
Slowly but surely, the balloon bounded towards her. As soon as Chrystie let go to stretch for the balloon, her strength ran out and she plummeted in free fall forty feet down, the sheep balloon still clutched between her paws. Fifteen feet up, the vent on the bottom left side revved to full power, slamming her towards the right wall. Her breath was knocked from her, fur askew. Through her tucked head, lightly shielded, she tied the balloon in a firm knot to her tail. The fur tangled around it and the plasticky string cut into her, causing her tail to constantly throb and prickle in pain. /Why does it feel like the wind has gotten stronger?/ she thought, sliding down the wall. She was basically stuck here until the wind let up. She’d be tossed around and fail her Gamemakers. She didn’t know which was worse. In the midst of her lament, she noticed that there were weapons, tied down by ropes, covered by a large, heavy sheet in the back of the room. Chrystie’s eyes lit up in hope. Maybe there was a chance after all... She half-ran, half crawled to it, avoiding vents and often stumbling to try and get there before the vents lifted her up. Using the lances and spears as support, she grabbed five, lugging them into the Gamemakers’ corner. Quickly setting them up in a lean-to, she used the steel zip ties to tie them to the heavy canvas sheet, fluttering crazily in the wind. The spears couldn’t pierce the hard floor and she didn’t want to damage the room, and possibly lower her score. Shoving herself to the very back, she sat on the spears, trying to keep them in place with body weight. Even so, a loose knot unfurled, causing the structure to almost lift up. Chrystie couldn’t risk another trip to get a zip tie and leave her tent. Stretching herself, she laid on the opposite corner, trying to keep all of them still while trying to put on a face of calm. Even inside, it was doubtless the Gamemakers were watching. Biting a stretch of plastic off the balloon cord, she used it to tie down the loose corner, still lying on it. She hung on for what seemed like ages more, the wind whistling at higher and higher pitches, the frantic waving of the tarp, the wiggle of the spears as she struggled to keep them in place vibrating in her ears. The wind stopped. She lifted her bedraggled form and balloon, with broken string, out into the artificial light again, smoothing out her fur as she walked. The tent promptly collapsed behind her, but she paid it no notice. Fluidly moving but laden with effort, she stood in the center of the room, looking up at the Gamemakers, their faces shaded again. She gave a small dip of the head in respect, with a slight nod to a theatrical bow. After all this time holding on to it, she let go of the sheep balloon, releasing it towards the Gamemakers. “I hope that I have earned your approval,” she said, offering the smallest of smiles.
