Dynasty

Sirius’ first hour in the Capitol went by rather quickly. He and his fellow tributes were paraded around for those that came to see the District One representatives disembark from the train, and then they were whisked off to their respective stylists to be prepared for the Parade. 

Sirius soon found himself in a stark white room, clothed in nothing but a robe. There was a chair that looked a bit too much like an operation table for Sirius’ taste in the middle of the room. Tables of various shapes and sizes were positioned throughout the space, seemingly in no particular order, with items stacked so high on top of them that the ground should have been littered with the fallen objects. There were no windows and only one door. Lights seemed to be embedded in the very walls of the room that shone with fluorescent, white light. This only added to the room’s incredibly artificial and sterile ambiance.

Sirius took a breath to calm himself, “Don’t be an idiot,” he muttered while cracking his knuckles, a nervous habit that his mother had never been able to break, “Nothing will happen. This isn’t the arena.” 

He stood up, then sat back down. He stretched, then contracted. Sirius tried to find a way to simply exist in this place, but he couldn’t. 

It was at this moment that a single man in a white lab coat walked silently into the room. He was tall, extremely so, with curly black hair and dark eyes that seemed to bore into Sirius’ very soul. He crossed the distance to the District One tribute in two steps. In a deep, gravelly tone, he said “Chair. Now.” 

Sirius blinked. “Excuse me? Who even are you?”

The stranger repeated himself, “Chair. Now.” He grabbed Sirius by the shoulder and forced him into the chair. “My name is of no concern to you.”

“Wow. You’re really playing up this ‘Mr. Mysterious Stranger’ act aren’t you? Alright, I’ll play along,” Sirius cleared his throat and batted his eyelashes. “Well, golly-gee, mister-”

The man in the lab coat (presumably a medical professional) put his hand over the tribute’s mouth in an attempt to silence him, then grimaced. “Did you lick me?” He gasped in horror and yanked his hand away as if it was on fire. 

The offender winked salaciously in response. “That depends; did you like it?”

A new figure waltzed into the room before the lab coat-clad man could respond. “Thanks again for fitting him in, Calum. I do hope he didn’t give you too much trouble. Has he received the enhancement yet? You know, I don’t understand why President Riddle won’t allow them. He’s so concerned with Panem thinking the Games are fair. Far too concerned in my opinion.”

‘Calum’ snorted. “Trouble? The little ingrate licked me. He actually licked me!” the figure cackled, and Calum threw up his arms in defeat. “So, no. He hasn’t received the enhancement, James.”

James shrugged, “I’m James Potter, but my friends call me Jamie. I’m the Victor of the forty-eighth Hunger Games, but you already knew that. What my dear friend Calum is about to give you is an enhancement. It will greatly help your performance in the Games, not that I doubt your skills.” He laughed, “I mean, anyone who’s related to Regulus Black has to have some kind of talent.” 

Sirius bristled at the comparison to his brother. “Well, Jamie, you can take this enhancement and shove it right up your-”

James held up his hand. “I never said we were friends.” His eyes sharpened dangerously. “Besides, I’m not doing this for you.” 

“Then who the fuck would you be doing this for? Don’t you have tributes of your own to worry about? Like, four of them?” 

The Victor ignored Sirius’ cajoling and turned to Calum, who had been standing menacingly beside James up to this point. “Ready the enhancement.” He stepped back and stared at the tribute.

Sirius, unwisely, took this time to look at James. He was handsome, Sirius supposed, with bronzed skin and hazel eyes that glowed with something Sirius couldn’t place. He was tall, incredibly so, with a muscular build that somehow worked on him. Wire-framed glasses that were now trendy in the Capitol because of him were perched on his nose. That hair, however, needed serious help. Honestly, he thought to himself, with all the cosmetic advancements of the Capitol at his fingertips, he refuses to tame his hair? Though, it probably lent a great deal to his boyish charm. One couldn’t be both incredibly polished and the Capitol’s sweetheart, Sirius conceded. He wore a suit of seafoam green, and a crown of fishing line and laurels was nestled in his locks. The entire ensemble screamed District Four. 

            So not his type. Though, Sirius was biased towards reincarnated Greek Gods from District Twelve. Bonus points if they had huge scars and their name was Remus whatever-his-middle-name-was Lupin. So what if Sirius had a specific type?

Sirius was pulled out of his thoughts when an incredibly cold sensation spread throughout his bicep. Calum had rolled his sleeve up without him knowing. That was concerning. 

“Sorry,” Calum muttered, though he obviously wasn’t sorry at all, “Disinfectant.”

James sat where Sirius had previously, as relaxed as he could possibly be. “Listen, Black.” He began. “I’m going to give you a history lesson. Do you remember the Rebellion? Well, obviously you don’t, you weren’t alive. Let me rephrase: in school, do you remember learning about the Rebellion?” 

Sirius nodded, confused, but he wanted to see where this rambling was going to go. He felt a sharp prick, and then searing heat. It was nothing like he had ever felt before. His body began to shake. He looked at the offending arm and saw purple streaks making their way up his veins.

            “You know,” Sirius began shakily, eyes fixed on his arm, “if you wanted to get up close and personal, you could’ve asked; you didn’t need to drug me up.” He grinned what he hoped was a flirtatious smile.

James snapped his fingers. “Look at me.”

Sirius did. Anything to get his mind off the pain.

“There was a troop of District Thirteen soldiers that fought like demons. They were incredibly strong, bafflingly fast. Hundreds of Capitol troops were felled by these berserkers. They terrified the Capitol; fifty men were turning the tide of the Rebellion. That’s why District Thirteen was destroyed. Capitol scientists knew that those soldiers couldn’t just have been blessed with amazing genetics, so they did their own research. They tested bastardized versions of strength serums on anyone they could; prisoners, avoxes, whatever, before they finally found the perfect formulation. Today, we’ll be using it on you.”

Sirius started shaking more, and not because of the intense agony he was experiencing. 

James leaned forward in his seat, looking far too excited about what was happening. “You’ll be bigger, faster, stronger than anyone in the Arena. Your cousin? No problem. Rosier from Two? As easy as a kid from Twelve.” He stood, gesticulating wildly as if painting the picture of Sirius’ impending victory. “So what if your infamous mood swings will get exponentially worse? So what if you’ll be prone to fits of blinding rage? It’ll all be worth it when your very own Victor’s crown sits on your head.” He pointed to his own. 

Sirius sat up despite the fact that his body was currently wracked with spasms. “Wait,” he said, “How do you know about my temper?”

James chuckled. “The ‘Black Family Madness’ is infamous, Siri; incredibly useful in the Arena, devastating to the home life.”

The tribute’s brain was far too muddled for this. “‘Siri?’” he said, “That’s what my b-”

The Victor stood abruptly. “Well, that’s all the time I have for you today, One. Like you said, I have tributes to mentor. So, so many tributes. Who thought forty-eight tributes was a good idea?” He made a beeline for the door. “Tell Regulus that I just gave him an early birthday present.”

He was gone as quickly as he entered.

Calum finished bandaging Sirius’ arm up, because he had been doing that while Sirius and James were talking, apparently. “Tell your little ‘prep team’ to go easy on you today. They’ll know why, but it helps to remind them. They’re so flighty. Also, this isn’t exactly legal, so I wouldn’t speak of this. Surely you don’t want to get your brother in trouble.”

Calum made his way towards the door. 

Sirius panicked. “You’re not actually going to leave me here, are you?” 

The lab coat-clad man simply stared at him. 

“Don’t do this to me, babycakes. Don’t leave me alone.”

Calum opened the door, stepped out, and went to close it. 

“Darling?”

“Closing the door!” Calum growled.

“Light of my life?”

“Closing!”

“... Sugar?”

Slam! Then, a muffled “Closed.” 

Sirius sighed and leaned his head back against his chair. “Well, fuck.”