Benji already knew what was waiting for him in the career districts.
As soon as the train slowly pulled into one, he could tell that this was going to be a long trip. Their faces illuminated when he arrived, and frowns etched into all of their faces. Most grimaced, others even glared and gave him a look of true detestment. However, Benji didn't like them any more than they liked him. Their tribute had tried to kill him twice, he wasn't going to try and sound sad for them. It was their own childrens' fault, not his. Sure, he'd killed the girl, but their girl tribute had killed their male. It was similar to Nelly and him. Benji started his speech with a completely coated tone of voice, making it obvious that if it could have been done his way, he would have gone on stage, spit right there in front of them, then leave. He didn't like District One, and District One didn't like him either.
District Two was almost a mirror of District One. They were already bitter because of their loss of the female tribute so early, but now they had a grudge against him for killing their male tribute. Benji was a firm believer in cockiness leading to demise, and that had happened to Two. He'd been cocky in that lighthouse fight, and Benji had caught him off guard. He honestly had nothing else to say to District Two, except for what he'd said to District One. Just boring old speeches that they all knew meant nothing to him.
District Three seemed almost as dismal as what he imagined District Twelve to be. He felt kind of bad, considering their male tribute had blown up on the pedestal before the gong had sounded, but he hadn't known any of their tributes. Whenever he spoke to the crowd of pale-faced, acne-coated people of three, his voice was a bit less strained, unlike the career districts he'd been to so far, and was a bit more sympathetic. That didn't mean he was speaking the truth, though.
District Four was an interesting District. He wasn't exactly sure what happened in that district, where the ocean billowed onto the sandy shore with the sounds of crashing waves. Benji thought that the scenery there was astounding, and he would have been able to re-visit any day, if one thing changed. It would be better if they all weren't so insane. Their Girl had been killed by him, but none of them seemed interested in her death, in fact, they seemed a bit happy that she was gone. However, the male seemed to be mourned over more than the girl. Nelly had been the one to kill that ferocious monster, and he was glad he hadn't been the one to do so. As Nelly began to re-flood his brain, Benji loaded the train again, fearing the old memories soon to come back to him.
District Five was a little bit like District Three. He hadn't ever known the girl, he figured she'd been Bloodbath bait, but the boy...He'd known Brighton for only a few short minutes. That had been back in the mausoleum, the exact same ten minuet time span that he'd killed the girl from four, and escaped the fight of District One's powerful female tribute. He felt bad for the poor boy from five. He probably could have made an ally of him, but he'd left. He was sure that wasn't what caused the death of the boy, but he kind of wished he'd gotten to say more than five words to him.
District Six was completely explainable to Benji. He hadn't known either tributes at all, let alone remembered their names, but he remembered seeing their boy once or twice, perhaps in training during the weeks before the games. His speech to them was not bitter, nor was it gushing with emotion. It was simply empty.
District Seven was what began to strike a nerve in Benji. This was where the Victory tour was going to get serious, and he was going to have to suck in his breath here. Pomona had been from District Seven, and though he'd acted angry towards her and Denny all of the time, he admired her knowledge, and he wished he could have apologized to the poor girl for ever acting rudely to her. The boy had been a long-shot from Benji's acquaintance. He never remembered seeing him either. It was strange, knowing someone had died to let him live, and then never knowing who they were or what their name was.
District Eight was a bit uncomfortable. Denny had been from this district, the gloomy, depressing, freezing cold, factory-enriched place, and the stringy boy wondered how the kid had ever been able to breathe. He often found himself coughing during his speech, the smog caking his lungs as he spoke. Benji was used to the open plains and cow-laden fields of District Ten, not this concrete jungle. He mentioned Denny with a strange tone in his voice. He wasn't sure whether it was regret or if it was forgiveness, but Benji felt like they needed to know that any prior disliking of each other had been diminished. At least, it was for Benji. He couldn't say the same for poor Denny.
District Nine was a barrel of mixed feelings. Cherokee had died second to him, and he felt like he felt greatly for the District. It wasn't their fault their last hope had lost it in the arena, and as he set his eyes on the people of the district, he spoke words that couldn't ever have been disguised as fake. He couldn't afford to lie in such a place. Cherokee had been an important key to his survival, and he would be eternally grateful to them for the girl.
Sadly, they'd had to skip District Ten, and now Benji was in District Eleven. Benji had only vaguely seen the edges of District Eleven the cotton and vegetable fields only seeable so far with the naked eye. Benji had gone to the District Fence many-a-time with his gutter buddies, and he recognized the dark-skinned individuals immediately. He'd actually been able to interact with someone from Eleven once, outside of the games...Even though it had been for him to get away from the fence. He didn't remember their female tribute very well, and he was sure he'd never met their male one either. Their speech had been similar to Six's, completely empty.
District Twelve was a desolate wasteland. Not only was it soaked in extreme poverty, the people their didn't seem very accepting or healthy either. Most of their cheeks were hollow, and there was the daunting sight of a man off to the side, leaning against a post, dying of what was either hunger or thirst. It sent chills down Benji's spine, and he suddenly realized how thankful he was to have won the money he had. He remembered the little girl and boy both. The only thing he could piece together of the girl was the image of her head lolling off her shoulders, a memory Benji never wanted to relive. The boy he'd seen in the finale. It was a shame, the kid had gotten pretty far for his age.
Finally, District Ten came into view. It had been early morning, only hardly sunrise, when he was able to see the fields begin to stretch out In the distance, he could see some people pulling their barn doors open, walking inside to milk the cows and gather the eggs for breakfast. Some sheepdogs barked in the distance, feeling excited by the train's loud horn, and as Benji peeled his tired eyes open, he smiled. He was finally home, and he never wanted to leave this dusty old place again. The speech Benji had given to them was gushing with emotion. All of it was true, and he'd even teared up a few times, just out of sheer amazement and joy. Of course, his mentioning of Nelly had definitely toned down the excitement for a while but Benji made sure to finish on a light note. As he concluded his speech, he raised a fist into the air, grinning proudly, and the people of District Ten whooped and shouted, cheering for their brand new victor. The gutter boys hollered and screeched, banging their beer bottles on the sides of the buildings in the distance, and Benji let his smile reappear one last time.
Benjamin Bronco was now back where he belonged, after weeks and weeks of being torn away from what he treasured so much. He was a damned man, but not when he was within the fences of his home land.