Hey everyone! So, there are still TONS of open spots for tributes! The rules and form are on my profile. Remember, if you submit at least two, you are guaranteed one tribute in the Games. And don't forget to review- every review earns you sponsor points and encourages me to write! For now, enjoy this short POV from a character first introduced last chapter, our very own Head Gamemaker!

Areous Crane's POV

I have grown to hate the color red. I recently had my assistant replace all of my red pens with blue and green and purple ones—anything on the cool side of the color wheel will do. I never get a moment away from the red lines—they are permanently etched into my brain, and even manage to slip into my dreams.

There is one inherent truth that I have learned to live with over the course of my career: no one ever receives praise for behind the scenes work. This holds true at all levels, from the naïve, expectant Capital citizens all the way up to the esteemed President Kara, who first caused my hatred of that wretched color. It's no wonder red is associated with pain and suffering. It's people like the President who have given it a bad reputation.

The paperwork on my desk is covered with her familiar, scrawling penmanship. Every last mark is made with the same red ink. I don't think the woman has ever used a different color in her life—the glaring red seems to be her trademark. Every word, every letter, every mark points to a new problem, a new hole, a new failure. And these are only her notes on my work—she has a whole list of demands that I haven't even touched yet. Our ancestors may have had the right idea when they planned out the 149th Hunger Games, but not one of them could have predicted how far President Kara would take it.

Yesterday I met with Officer Bylum Wayes, Chief of Defense. When I told him what I wanted done, he looked at me as if I had told him to jump off a bridge. I recognize that he had every right to react in such a manner. My lies may have been carefully planned out, but ordering him to invest in about a thousand hidden cameras for "defense purposes" probably didn't sit well with him, especially considering the relative peace as of recent years. His best protest was that we simply didn't have the budget, but I'm not a stupid man. If the President wants to pull of this little stunt, then my requests are non-negotiable. The answer? Screw the budget, of course, and take care of business.

I'm still waiting to hear back about his progress, but so far nothing. Nothing but document after document, file after file, marked-up paper after marked-up paper. When I retire, I'm buying all the red pens in all of Panem, and we're going to have one spectacular bonfire.