Metamorphosis: The 100th Hunger Games

District 1: An Ailing Exec and A Reluctant Heir

Aurelia Baudelaire, 31
District One Female
May 15th, 2163 (HG 100)

I abruptly make my way through the glass doors into the offices of Baudelaire Luxury Goods. Nothing's changed within the last three months since my self-imposed exile…the office still had the same mahogany walls, pastel-coloured schemes and shapely furniture. Lazily, I drag my hand across the cursive logo on the wall, then across the portraits of Justus and Morena Baudelaire – my parents, that sit right above it.

"My friends, never again will you ever have to toll away on a luxury good, only for it to be shipped to a city miles away or for it to be redistributed back to you for an exorbitant price tag…" I turn towards the holoprojection behind me, watching as a younger version of my father and mother recite our family's mission statement during our store's 100th anniversary. "…And so my friends, from my family to our District One family at-large, I present to you "Baudelaire Luxury Goods - Luxury living for less, guaranteed."

"Oh my stars…Ms. Baudelaire, is that you!?"

I turn towards the typing pool, flashing a weak smile towards the astonished and pitying faces that gawk at me. I barely noticed they were there, until now. The 'pinging' of fingers to holographic keyboards stop and all conversation lowers as I begin sauntering out of reception and towards the pool of typists and associates.

"Hello everyone," I say aloud, my cheeks red whilst scanning the room. "I'm happy to be back…permanently!"

It all starts with one clap. That clap would devolve into a chorus of applause and soft cheers. As much as I wanted to break down and cry at the amount of love being sent my way, I instead return the cheers with a lifted chin and a solemn smile. Now was not the time for weakness. I've spent enough time wallowing. What they need right now is the Aurelia they always knew – articulate, mature, the perfect lady.

I make my way into the pool of secretaries and associates. Shaking their hands and accepting their well-wishes. "Thank you Sapphire…I absolutely adore your dress today. I saw your artwork for our upcoming summer line Salvatore; I can't wait to see them come to life!"

My secretary, Topaz Wright, quickly zips over to greet me with a hug that could kill a mutt. "Miss, I'm so very glad you're back," she chirps, taking my coat. "Here, lemme take that off your hands."

"Thank you kindly, Topaz." I reply, glancing at her kinky curls. "Your style looks superb. I wish I could do it like that!"

Topaz smiles while giving her hair a gentle pat, "Well sure you can, if you permed it! Would you like a snack from the cart?" she asks, nodding as I shake my head no. "No problem. As you already know, Mr. Cosgrove is leading the board members meeting. It just started, so you'll fit right in!"

"Lead the way…" I say, albeit shakily as I gesture forward.

…

"All metrics currently indicate that renovations like the ones we've undergone here at head office and in the Capitol would suffice immensely at all locations."

Under the cover of darkness cigarette vapor, Topaz and I slink into the boardroom as Luxe Cosgrove casually saunters around a holoprojector with a clicker in hand. In front of him surrounding a wide mahogany table in large leather chairs sat nine other executives that made up Baudelaire's Board of Directors. They were Mother and Father's people moreso than mine, but some of them meant well. If it weren't for Father's will and ingenious thinking, Baudelaire would've been swamped by infighting and hostile takeovers due to my…temporary withdrawal.

"Ahem…" interrupts Topaz. "Members of the board, Chairwoman Ms. Aurelia Baudelaire has arrived."

As if on command rather than absolute shock, all chairs turned towards me, their occupants casting me the same flabbergasted look as my other associates did. Gaius Fleming was harder to read. Even as a hologram, the COO of Capitol Region Operations' expression was a mix of surprise and disappointment as he adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses. Nonetheless, they all rise and applaud at the sight of me.

"Thank you all from the bottom of my heart." I say, inclining my head. Remember Aurelia…articulate, mature – the perfect lady. "What's this about renovations? Now that I'm in office, I'd rather hear it from the mouth than hard copy."

Luxe clears his throat, gesturing for our head of the creative department Laurel O'Shea, to make a seat available for me. "Of course, Aurelia! Please take a seat. We'll explain it in detail for you."

Laurel does just that, patting a leather chair as I make myself comfortable. She offers me a Lucky Drag, which I take and ignite myself. The holoprojector flickers as Luxe scrolls the various images of Baudelaire locations, only to settle on our site in Billings, bordering District 9.

"For example, in Billings, we were thinking about doing away with the first floor stone façade and install wide windows…"

"It increases visibility, draws in wandering eyes…" The Billings Manager, Reginald Tester, adds.

Luxe nods, casting an inquisitive glance at me. His lips frown slightly at my lack of a visual response. "Erm yes…and on top of that, the board believes that luncheon tables would further add convenience and 'flare' to our various locations."

Nodding slightly, I cross one leg over the other as I extinguish my cigarette. Father, Mother and I always preferred the pre-Panem architecture of our stores – stone facades that lasted throughout the centuries. When the board presented change, they were always reluctant to deviate from the established formula. I guess their way of business rubbed off on me.

"Changing the façade sounds alright…but why luncheon counters?" I inquire, waving my hand as the holoprojector showcases a concept image of gal pals indulging in milkshakes. "I don't know. It seems like something akin to a pharmacy, not a luxury goods store."

Gaius seems to disagree. "Why not, Steinberg's Grocery does it? And they are Panemwide. Metrics here in the Capitol show that our beta runs of the luncheon counter have bolstered our profit margins. Who doesn't like food and shopping at the same time?"

Luxe nods. "Besides, it's better to keep the potential 'after shopping snack' money inside Baudelaire than out. You get us?"

"I suppose…looking at this menu here, it seems to take after a café rather than a stand outside a mineral dig." I muse with uncertainty, caressing my temples as the room breaks into light laughter. They're only trying to make the company succeed.

Luxe smiles. "Exactly, people should expect luxury food items from a luxury department store. And so, with those cosmetic changes, alongside the addition of on-site restaurants, new locations, logo face lift and aggressive ad campaigns featuring Panem's favourite musical quadruplets, Baudelaire has nowhere to go, but up."

The holoprojector showcases the upgraded concept of a Baudelaire store. Its lights contrasting with District One's big evening sky, cars can be seen driving past and patrons entering and leaving the store as musical heartthrob Roy Nakashima takes the forefront of the artwork, leading his siblings toward the golden-door entrance with a glistening smile.

"Baudelaire – Luxury Living for Less, Guaranteed."

My heart soars at the inclusion of a portion of Father's quote. The collective soft sighs throughout the room and a smile from Luxe reflects this.

"I like it." I say, glancing around the boardroom as I nod at the various faces that return the gesture. "If we are to continue from the…tragedy that afflicted our company then we need to make some changes. I believe we're moving in the right direction."

"I'm glad you think so," says Luxe, his features softening as he looks the room over. "Although it seldom applies to us, I would like to remind you all that our mandatory meeting pertaining to this year's Hunger Games and its implications will take place this Friday. Until then, take it easy!"

…

"Later on at two o' clock, we have auditions for our upcoming holovision spot." Trills Topaz as we arrive at the pink double doors of my office.

"Is that all for now, Topaz?"

"Mhm! Do you need anything?"

I place a hand on her shoulder. "No Topaz, thank you very much for your tremendous help."

Entering the office, I quickly make a beeline to the mound of condolence cards and baskets left on top of my desk. It was so much of a shock that I forgot to turn on the lights!

"They must really care about you…" a voice muses.

My poniard withdrawn from my purse, I jut it towards the figure sitting on my settee. Shuffling towards the light switch, I nearly gasp at the sight of Nikolai raising his hands upward in shock. On the opposite end of the couch laid our son, Satin, who continues to sleep away.

"That's new…aren't you a little old to be Career training?" He chuckles shakily, his attempt to defuse the situation. "I tried your house, but your housekeeper said you went to the office…so here I am."

"Oh Nikolai, I'm so very sorry." I soothe, sheathing the knife and embracing him with a hug. I almost move in for a kiss, but stop myself without him catching on. My selfish pursuits broke down that aspect of our relationship long ago. "…I can't be too trusting anymore. Not with what happened to Mother and Father."

"You still believe someone did it intentionally…?"

I nod. Just like President Kane and his son Archibald, my Father tried to take on the old guard here in District One by challenging Serene Westenfluss' governorship. Instead of the Career system dominating every aspect of One's community, he and Mother wanted to redistribute the wealth to other aspects of our economy…but of course, they didn't like that. They were both killed when a truck rammed their limousine head on.

…If I didn't back out of my engagement with them, I too wouldn't be here today.

"I'm sure it was just a freak accident…" Nikolai muses sadly.

"Right, and President Kane getting his head blown off and his son being exiled from Panem were just coincidences too?" taking a silver bullet out of my purse alongside a threatening note that accompanied it, I shove them in front of his face. "THIS I found in my room just recently…these people are fucking sycophants – pardon my Latin - all because of their allegiance to a glorified deathmatch!"

Nikolai suddenly stills. "The evidence is very overwhelming...I-I'm not sure how to respond to this."

Shrugging, I breathe out a deep sigh. "Me either..."

Nikolai nods off towards little Satin. "It's been awhile since you've seen him, I thought since you were feeling better, I'd bring him 'round."

Allowing myself a slight smile, I gently kneel down to Satin's sleeping form and caress his mousy brown hair. Denying all frivolous pleasures for the sake of the company, having him with Nikolai was a worthwhile allowance. Due to my extensive work and what happened with Mother and Father, I've seen less and less of my little boy. No longer. If Mother and Father were alive, they would want me to support Baudelaire and become closer with Nikolai and Satin.

All I need to do is stay out of the way.

Thames Montgolia, 25
District One Male
May 21st, 2163 (HG 100)

"You ready for this, Vince?" I challenge, tossing my armor-clad friend a quarterstaff. Glamazons and Gammas both past and present watch on from the bleachers as Vince captures the weapon in both hands. Winking, he places a protective helmet over his face.

"Ready when you are," he replies with a sing-song tone, "Let's see if you lost your luster over the years."

"He's a part-time drama teacher, Mr. Q," yells a Glamazon. "Of course he's gone soft!"

"Hey!" I reprimand, "I'll have you know that this part-time drama teacher was at the top of his survival and swordsmanship class!"

Turning towards Vince, the two of us exchange a nod before having at it. Six years on from graduating Edenthew Academy and I haven't lost a godsdamned thing. My katana, as it punctures a pouch of red beads on Vince's leg, acts as an extension of my hands. Each strike and block is effortless, and I can't help but grin as Vince and I enter a vigorous dance of ducks, slashes, chops and parrys. It feels good relive old times. The brotherhood of the Phi Gamma Epsilons, being at my social 'peak' with girls and boys adoring your every move….it never goes away.

Alas, it seems the shine hasn't gone away. Down to one last pouch on his chest, Vince raises his staff to block my downward strike, not anticipating my forward thrust as the blade continues its trajectory. Stepping backward, the telltale noise of beads hitting the floor only confirms it.

That and that I'm ready.

Vince sighs in defeat. "So close…yet so far away."

"Heh yeah, if you count two pouches destroyed as 'so close'" I jeer in reply, bowing towards our audience as their cheers come my way. "Thank you, thank you, you're all much too kind."

Since Drama doesn't have exams this semester, after cleaning up the gymnasium I elect to direct my class through memory lane. Having been established nearly one hundred years ago in honor of One's first victor, Orchid Edenthew Academy for the Arts was overflowing with photos and artifacts that hung on its walls or had its own designated room. We elect to go to the student lounge, where I tell my students about the raucous parties and dramas of my day.

"How come they didn't choose you back then, Mr. M?" Inquires a Gamma by the name of Ace.

I shrug, closing a yearbook and placing it back on its shelf. "I was one of the best, but not the best, I suppose. I guess fate had other plans back then."

"Why not this year? You should volunteer Mr. M!" says Laurent Robinson.

Suzie Gleason seems to agree. "Yeah, totally!"

"Heh heh heh…" I chuckle, deflecting the challenge altogether. Gesturing toward him I ask, "Why aren't you volunteering, Laurent? You're one of the top percentiles."

He points to his Peacekeeper dress whites, as well as gesturing to other students who wear the same garment. "The Expeditionary Force is the life for me, Mr. M. After getting that injury last year, the drive to be one of the lucky few has left my system."

"And besides," adds Suzie, "the school is like, not allowing any young people to volunteer like, ya know, this year...somethin' about us bein' too generic' or whatever."

I glance at some of the members of the class of 2163. One by one I take in their faces of reluctant acceptance. Today was their last full day of classes, and the students are feeling nostalgic. I know I am. The nineteen and twenty-year-olds who are graduating and graduated were hoping for one last hurrah, given the quell twist this year. The reaction to the victors barring them from volunteering this year was…muted. Someone from the outside looking in would think that Careers not chosen for their selected year would be 'useless' – without purpose. But as Laurent said, Edenthew Academy isn't all about the Games. After wallowing in self-pity for a couple of weeks most of us brush ourselves off and pursuit a career in the arts or take an apprenticeship with their parents.

After a couple of years outside the system, I don't find myself being so 'accepting' of my fate anymore.

"Oh my gods, Thames!" screeches my sister, Bellamy, as she hurries down the steps of the lodge with her friends in tow. "You're like, totally late! Daddy's been wondering where you've been!"

Smirking, I gently toss the valet the keys to my cabriolet. It's a '50 Zip! Tracker-Jacker, so one hardy glance at the teen and a nod from him in reply is enough to tell him to take impeccable care of it. "You know me, fashionably late and all…" I turn to her friends now, flashing them an endearing smile. "Good evening Bubbles, Opal."

As Bellamy rolls her eyes and crosses her arms in a huff, the O'Shea twins, like many young women I encounter, devolve into giggles and blushes as step forward and give each girl a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Hi Thames," the two trill in unison, their eyes glistening and lips pursed with bashfulness.

The O'Shea's having decided to stay behind and have a cigarette, Bellamy is left escorting me into the main lodge of the Big Sky Resort. Visited by One's upper crust and Capitols alike, the nearby Lone Mountain Range offer a plethora of recreational sports to partake in, scenic trails to immerse yourself in or homey and tasteful lodging for lucrative business meetings. We both smile to an older colleague as we continue down the ornate halls. Keeping up appearances, I wave and wink to former schoolmates that pass me by. They too have left the Career mindset behind and embraced the high-society life.

"You can't keep, like, blowing off your responsibilities to the company, Thames." Bellamy hisses, wrapping a gloved hand around the crook of my elbow. I suppress the urge to lash out at her. It's not like she knows my true feelings about our 'obligations' besides the bare minimum.

"Dad has twenty other people on his board of directors, I doubt I'm needed all that much."

"Well, I can't keep vouching for you when Mom and Daddy keep asking where you are!"

"Well, excuse me for trying to go my own way…" I mutter.

"You're still trying to get into entertainment?"

I can't help but roll my eyes. The company this, the company that. I follow Mom and Dad's yearnings enough. And when I try to follow through with yearnings of my own once in a while, I can't even do that. Sighing, Bellamy goes from deflated to chipper at the sight of the double doors in front of us. "Just try and like, keep up appearances, okay? The night will be all but over soon."

Sighing, I too slip on the urbane mask for the engagement ahead. "No promises."

Having been to the Capitol on multiple occasions thanks to Dad's connections, the moniker his Capitolite colleagues would give our District – "The Little Capitol" – always rang true when it came to scenes like these. With the Lone Mountain and the evening sky serving as our backdrop, soft clinks of utensils against glass and soft conversation could be heard as District One's upper echelons wined and dined with one another. Officials, businesspeople like poor Miss Baudelaire…is that Cessna Embraer? To top it all off, some seniors from Edenthew Academy's visual arts school sing a big band rendition of "Fly Me To The Moon". I suppress the urge to frown, instead forcing a charming smile on my lips as Mom and Dad catch my eye.

"Thames, there you are…!" Mom greets, waving the both of us over. In a room of slightly older folks, both Jubilee and Lucius Montgolia hold their own with their impeccable dress and demeanor. I guess being gem mining magnates in your mid forties will do that to you. Greeting mom with a kiss and father with a respectful nod – which was…somewhat reciprocated – I slide out a chair for Bellamy as we settle in. Thankfully, they waited until we were halfway done through the main course before Mom cleared her throat as she shifted her body towards me.

"So Thames, darling, how was your trip to the Capitol?" she asks. "Any work?"

Rinsing down my food with a sip of pop, I avoid Dad's gaze. "No unfortunately."

"Good," says Dad, chiming in. Oh great. "Maybe now he can forget his silly dream and divert his attention back to the company."

Mom frowns, Bellamy does as well. "Lucius, his goals aren't entirely far-fetched..."

"They are far-fetched, Jubilee. Don't cut him slack." Dad retorts. "I suggest he forgets all about this, while he still has his reputation."

"What's wrong with trying to pursuit what I want?" I inquire with an incredulous edge. Apparently it's a crime to want to have my own aspirations. Something billed by me, not passed down via silver genes.

"And what do you 'want', Thames?" asks Dad, elbows on the table as he cups his hands and cranes his head toward me.

"Why to live my dreams of course, to build my own success-"

"There are plenty of Rubys and Glimmers and Glistens that get off the train to the Capitol every day!" he reprimands sternly, attracting the attention of some guests. "All your success is right here in the luxury district. The faster you understand this, the better."

"Daddy…" Bellamy pleads, casting quick glances to her left and right before settling on him. "Stop it."

"Let it go Lucius," Mom adds, turning to me once again. She always was the diffuser, but less 'open' with her views towards my pursuits. "Thames darling, we care for you, but your dalliances cause us great concern. Our patience is wearing thin. So, if you genuinely think your dreams will kick off, I suggest you try something now or give it up completely."

Sighing, I adjust my seating as the desserts begin to arrive. "Right…"

Thankfully the silence returns as we dig into tonight's dessert. I offer Bellamy a smile as she gently prods my knee with hers. She needn't worry. Little did they know I have it all planned out.

Governor Serene Westenfluss, 49
Victor of the 66th Hunger Games
May 24th

"Is it drafted yet…? It's a satellite campus, look at all that training opportunity for our Careers up there – mountains, streams, lakes…"

Placing the phone to my ear, I adjust the belt of my shirtwaist dress before moving to slip on my heels. "We use it often, so we might as well establish a permanent presence…Who cares about what they think, that's why we have tesserae cards remember?! Just get it drafted by next week. I want the bill on my desk for assent by December."

Disconnecting the call, I glance upward to see my Housekeeper silently waiting.

"Governor Westenfluss," she announces with a curtsy. "Your aide, Miss Erin Stenway, here to see you."

"Let her in." I mutter. I glance up at my assistant as she enters the living room. Erin was a mousy little thing, a dark-skinned young woman in her late twenties. With beady, grey eyes, a big bouffant secured with a bow and a pink collared shirtwaist dress, that's where the 'typical secretary' comparison ended. Appointed by the Ministry of Districts' Affairs in HG 98, they say that Ms. Stenway is 'the best of the best', an assistant 'fit for a Victor'. She was a little too fit if you ask me. She's a real oddball, always fifty steps ahead of me. Sometimes, it's almost as if she isn't here even though she's only feet away – ever vigilant with a permanent grin on her face. Whatever, she's reliable and lessens my workload. That's all that matters.

"Miss Westenfluss," she chirps, her voice light and pleasant as per usual. "The motorcade is ready to take you to the Hall of Justice for the Reaping Day festivities."

"Are the other towns synced to the mandatory viewing?" the Capitol introduced percentiles to the Reaping pool, higher percentile means mandatory attendance based on reaping probability.

"Yes Miss Westenfluss."

"And the Justice Building is free of pranks from the Edenthew kids?" Those damn hoods are getting craftier as the years go by. And to think I was one of them.

"Yes Miss Westenfluss." She repeats. Her voice still retains its unnerving pleasantry.

I cast her one last glance before we head out the door towards the awaiting limousine. "Are you sure everything is secure for this afternoon?"

"Of course Miss Westenfluss, Headpeacekeeper LeMay assures you that everything should go off without a hitch."

I allow myself a sigh as we settle into the car. "Good. Let's be on our way."

Since the Governor's Mansion is only a block or two away from the Hall of Justice, the ride was a quick one. Although judging by the pack of ravenous paparazzi as we pull into the cul-de-sac, I wish the ride were a tad bit longer.

"Serene, Serene, Serene!"

In the face of flashing bulbs and raucous questions thrown my way, I plant a smile on my face as Eris and I bound up the steps towards my fellow victors. Peacekeepers in their crisp white uniforms keep the media at bay with each step.

"Governor Westenfluss, Hermes Lancaster – Capitol TV! How will One fare given the events of the past year!?"

I allow myself a small snicker. Not only did I have to deal with the murder of a Panemian president in our District of all places, but a ferocious re-election campaign in conjunction with the federal one that resulted in my opponent being killed. We've been thrown off our game, leaving us nine years without a victory to our name, but plenty of close calls.

"I assure our fans in the Capitol that District One will be competitive this year. The events that transpired have no bearing on this year's Games." I nod to a Peacekeeper Sergeant who with his unit begin boxing off the gaggle of press. "Enjoy the Reaping Day festivities!"

Reaching the top of the steps, I meet the closest thing to my family. Cessna Embraer who continues to file away at her nails with her Chihuahua tucked in her purse, Kaiser who smirks with his arms folded as Severa and Glisten continue to chuckle their heads off at my expense.

"She has the patience of a Snow…" Muses Kaiser. "Like I always say, if I were you, I would've leapt off the roof by now."

"Every year is the same thing…I dunno how you do it." Glisten snorts, wiping a tear away. He diverts his attention to Erin who types away on her datapad. "Hey Serene's shadow, how's it going?"

As they continue to snicker, Erin glances upward, unfazed by the insult as she grins. "Hello Mr. Hemingway. Good program today."

As Erin glances back down towards her datapad, the four of us exchange perplexed looks. Glancing up from her file, Cessna scowls.

"Riiiiiiiight…Can we like, go in now?"

The clock strikes three when I'm given the cue to take the microphone. Erin was right, we had a good program today. The adults were just as optimistic and jubilant as the teens were in any other given year. The crowds go back as far as the eye can see. At least past East Ritchson Street. After the typical speech given every year, the crowd goes wild once more as I introduce myself and the other Victors, and then our Escort, Rouge Peakes as she approaches to take the microphone. Living up to her name, she wears a red and black fringed dress and a cloche to boot. It contrasts well with her dark skin.

"Thank you, District One, for your warm welcome as per usual!" she twitters softly. "Now, if you all could pay attention to this spanking new film brought to you all the way from your friends in the Capitol!"

The film was mostly the same, with former President Snow narrating from start to finish until as the screen faded to black, a new voice took his place – a more feminine voice.

"That future was threatened once more," Picks up President DeWynter. "After seventy-four years of peace and prosperity, a naïve girl and her proxies whose names shall not be uttered, driven by selfish desire, plunged the nation into yet another civil war. Alas, thanks to those brave and loyal citizens who heeded their nations call, the war was won. With a renewed covenant between Capitol and Districts as one collective, Panem now enters an unprecedented century of peace and prosperity. One based on trust, understanding of the roles we all play and unwavering loyalty to the state. In all these things, The Hunger Games serves as the centerpiece. It is with them that we safeguard our past and future more than ever."

Rouge gently claps along with the audience. "That was quite refreshing, wasn't it? Now for the moment you've all been desperately waiting for – the selection of our male and female tributes for the 100th Hunger Games and Fourth Quarter Quell. As is custom since time began, ladies first!"

As the jumbotron switches to the image of a female face Rouge grips the lever and pulls it, activating the randomizer that replaced the iconic bowls. As the screen finally slowed and finalized on one face, the crowd became awash in shocked and fervent murmurs.

"…Aurelia Baudelaire, if you could please make your way up to the stage?!"

The crowd between the late twenties and early thirties parted for the luxury goods executive. Dressed in a black wool jacket and skirt with matching heels, the doomed Aurelia reacted in a way in which no tribute from One has since the HG single-digits – eyes filled with shock as she glances around for a saving grace that was nonexistent.

"Talk about insult to injury…" mutters Servera.

Glisten snorts. "Talk about riiiiii- oof!"

As Glisten nurses his foot, Cessna crosses her leg over her leg once more. "Shut up. That wasn't the case, right Serene? Kaiser? "

Ignoring their eyes, Kaiser and I continue to watch the scene in front of us. With a pained smile and a straight back she ignores the murmurs that continue to fly as she makes her way through the aisle and up the stairs. As she faces the crowd, she retains her composure, although even from this angle it looks like one word would undo her.

"And now, a handsome man to complement a beautiful woman." Smiles Rouge, ignoring the call for volunteers. And no other woman seems to do so…why? Out of shock, Intimidation? Any attempt to take her place is instantly quelled as Rouge pulls the lever and awaits a name. "Emerald Carter!"

"I volunteer!" cries a voice.

All eyes watch as the mid-twenties male's aisle part for a rather handsome man. A quintessential Dee One blond, he was dressed to the nines in a purple tailored suit with a square in his breast pocket and a flower In his lapel.

"Well, come on down young man! Wait…we're the same age…"

Caressing his ring which judging by the screen is a graduation token from Edenthew, he makes his way towards the stage with a confident swagger. That is, until a visibly pregnant nineteen-year-old halts his march.

"Thames, darling…what about our baby?!" she cries, planting her hands on his chest. "What are we going to do without you?!"

"Your baby?!" pops out another young woman, "What about our baby?! Who the hell is this, Thames?!"

A third woman joins the confrontation. "Who the hell are these hussies, Thames?! I thought I was the only one for you!?"

Shouldering the perplex expression everyone seems to wear on their faces, the young man shrugs. "I don't even know you guys…?"

The four share a moment of silence before the first girl removes a godsdammed pillow from her midsection. Over the wave of laughter that envelops the square, I rise from off my chair, jutting a finger towards the nearest PK. "Get those numbskulls back in line!"

As the Peacekeepers prod the students back into their aisle Rouge, with it being her fifth year, takes it all in stride with a soft giggle. "It wouldn't be District One without a practical joke thrown in." she sighs, turning her attention to the young man who joins us on stage.

"Anywho, what's your name, dreamboat?" purrs Rouge, tilting the microphone towards him whilst her eyes roam his form.

"Thames, Thames Montgolia." He replies, planting a kiss on her hand.

Rouge playfully waves him off. "Of Montgolia – the luxury brand?"

"Indeed. I see you're wearing our 'Roaring Fifites' line…and may I say you look ravishing in it?"

Rouge giggles, using one hand to fan away the redness from her cheeks. "So suave…a Baudelaire and a Montgolia, what a star-studded pair we have this year." She turns to the audience at large. "Please give a round of applause for your tributes of this year's Hunger Games – Aurelia Baudelaire and Thames Montgolia!"

Turning towards Aurelia, Thames' charming persona softens a tad as he gently embraces her with a shake of the hand, a kiss on the cheek and a hug. Surely with them both being a part of One's business class, they share a slight connection. The crowd eats this up, naturally. As they shuffle towards the doors, I stare straight ahead, effectively avoiding Aurelia's gaze.

"I know him, Thames," Says Kaiser. Of course he would, he was the headmaster of the academy after all. "Great alumni, great drama teacher…"

Cessna continues to coddle her puppy. "You, Glisten and I could, like, totally play off that. Y'know, with us being entertainers and whatnot?"

"I'll take Thames, while you and Glisten run backup. We'll talk deets on the train."

"You didn't answer the question Serene, Kaiser, Cessna!" Severa apparently, wasn't having it as she rose out of her seat and faced us. "Why reap Baudelaire?"

"Her parents tried to pull a Kane and rework the system." Explains Kaiser, "In fear of losing our status, some officials took steps they thought necessary. Mind you, I had no part in any of this…other than being a fervent critic of them. You've seen the election last year, Severa, how contentious it was?"

As their eyes turn to me, I continue to focus on the withdrawing crowds. "If it were up to me, I would've left her when she was down. I guess some people prefer it if she were out of the picture completely, being the last vestige and all." Sighing, I rise out of my seat, clapping my hands as I regard my colleagues.

"So, who's taking Aurelia?" I ask with a smile.

I'm flabbergasted by the silence I'm met with. Cessna continues making smooch faces to her puppy, Kaiser has the boy, Glisten whistles with faux nonchalance and Severa simply shakes her head with contempt. "Out of all the potential women...you guys rig it for her?"

"You can't honestly expect me to mentor her, after what happened this past year!?" I spit incredulously. The election was bitter, extremely bitter. Heated debates, attack ads, the deaths…The Victors – me – are the personification of all her grief. "Ugh...fine."

"Sooo, it's you and Kaiser while me and Cessna tag along for the ride?" Glisten finalizes, adjusting his tie. "Sounds great."

"I'll tag along too I guess," Severa waves a hand. "You know, fear of missing out, and all that..."

Glisten snorts. "Yeah, right. I imagine Jasper would be very sad if she didn't get to see yo-"

A quick jab to the stomach is enough to make Glisten double over. While the two continue to roughhouse and Kaiser and Cessna attempt to break the two idiots up, I let out a sigh I didn't realize I held. Greaaat, just great. Then again, I've been through dances more intricate than this.

Thanks Acereader and errrrrrr Alice Kingsleighs for your tributes. I apologize in advance for "lobsided" points of view as we continue forward. On average, my words are above the threshold I set for myself.

And um, some of you *none* may recall my statment about retcons. Especially when it pertains to my Victors, a lot of it is subject to change. Although I doubt a lot of people have memorable knowledge about them. My "The Lucky Few" blog is a placeholder. Some things said here and beyond might be different from the wordpress.