Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with the 11th chapter of The Gamemaker's Plan: Part II: The Victors Assault. It's been almost a full month since I've updated, but given that I had four quick updates within two weeks give me somewhat an excuse as that expansion in this story is unprecedented. Last time in our tale, the Quarter Quell was announced, and our main man Jonathan Crimson is going back into that arena. He'll experience new tortures. Just like in Catching Fire, for the 75th Hunger Games, that 3rd Quarter Quell, the Victors are being used as tributes. I guess you can see where the title now comes from, no? Unlike that story though, the victors are already pre-determined, and in a last ditch effort I suppose to knock Jon down a peg, Bailey has been picked as the female tribute for the games since there aren't any female victors now that Katniss has died. So, troublesome encounters await us don't they? Hope you enjoy Chapter 11: Cabins and Lust.

You would think that after getting told that I was going to be back in the arena, stuffed in a dome filled with other greats, that I would then turn to lose my mind. Well, firstly, I did try that one, using one of Lucas's arrows to see just how far in my throat it would go, but my damned brother decided that would not be the best. Besides, who would take my place?

Second step was realization. That, holy shit, I just might die for the second time. I am going to experience this excruciating torture once again. Those Capitol sons of bitches are cruel, aren't they? Third step was determination. Now that I know I'm going back, I have to do everything possible to stay back out there and keep my head high. I won these games once, you know. By fluke, but still a victory, right? Yeah... I'm not in the right frame of mind.

Lucas helped me train. Countless hours spent shooting at already dead animals, shot so many turkeys that instead of naming the game like I used to, they were just numbers. Turkey #4890524566 you've been shot. Well, I didn't kill that many turkeys, but probably somewhere in the hundreds. My brother said it helped concentrate on moving targets. I retorted that these targets didn't fight back. He promptly kicked me. Hard. In the shin. He was really getting temperamental, that boy... I swear.

In this jumbled mess, it occurred to me that I still had to see Bailey. After all, she was getting shoved into these games without a choice or rhyme or reason except that President Lee knew it would hurt and I would lose my mind if she died right in front of me. I wasn't going to have another Katie in that arena. That was vowed the moment both of our names came spitting out of that snake's mouth.

She probably had no idea what was at stake. Bailey often tried to think of the positives that came along with everything. Once, during a math test, she got in trouble because she saw how I was beating myself up over some stupid drawing linear shit that I never bothered to remember. Wanted me to see the light. I retorted that my math test wasn't the Bible, no rapture going on here. I had a ruler promptly thrown in my face for effort. Always knew I'd have her in my backyard.

So, following her advice, I did just that. Tried finding positives amid this terribleness. Couldn't get anything. Death, watching others bleed out, killing others, being separated from those you loved, having heartache, going hungry, getting cold by weather, infections, cuts, bruises, wounds that never healed. Having to stand stock still while getting pampered... that was the experience of the games. Nothing good came from that. Bailey Resel was a delusionist. A fine one. Made me wonder how she often lived.

The announcement of the Quell happened in April, it was customary that with the new season of Spring and that corny, corny saying of May showers bring flowers are some stupid superstitious bullshit that no once cared about... it was why there was a card reading for that month. Games started in August, meaning I had five months to prepare for them.

In April I did absolutely nothing. Wandering seemed to be my favorite choice of the year, just waving hello to people and feeling extremely gratuitous. Giving out all the spare things I could. Helped Eden with his weaponry business, often being the first test subject for a new prototype. Lee got a griping letter once or twice from me about how buildings are supposed to withstand explosions, not crumble underneath them. Sometimes I gave Lucas archery lessons, helped my mother around the house (especially in the kitchen). I even lined Henry up for some Capitol dating service. He promptly cut me off from then on. None of that fancy crap was entering his life and it was final.

In May, that was when the rest of the Capitol entourage reached out to me. Rose called me fifty times a freaking week, wanting to get my idea on the Tribute Parade, what should I wear, what Bailey should wear and things like that. She told me that my outfit for Interview Night was a secret, where I honestly could care less as it was just clothing, for something I never noticed too often. I wasn't a fan favorite of the Capitol citizens, but I wasn't despised like some. Not that I feel like naming names.

Georgia stopped by once, which was odd as she never did. Always had too much inside that pesky brain of hers. Meeting after meeting after meeting, I'm surprised that when she hugged me or shook my hand it didn't fall off for how often she shook it up in the great city of the freaks. When she came by, there was this massive bouquet of flowers for my mother, a large bottle of whiskey for Henry, which I promptly threw out, a weird watch for Lucas, and a basket of fruit for me. Some I never even heard of, like kiwi, and cantaloupe. I had thanked her of course, spraying my dear escort all over the face with juice from a lemon. The taste was sour, so my thank you seemed more so a scowl, which is probably why Georgia hasn't come to District 12 since then.

Lucas and Eden collaborated that month to throw me what I'd call, a 'Guys' day. By that, I mean, we went into town, bought as many... explosives as we could, and then set them all off across the District by one flick of a switch. We didn't injure anyone, thank goodness, but we sure made fireworks in the Capitol look child's play with our display of violent crimsons, sharp ceruleans, dazzling emeralds, and edgy amaranthines.

Come June, I had two months of training left. Being the beautiful procrastinator that I am, I hadn't done a single thing. On the very first day of the summer month, Henry, and this is a true story, came into my room, poured a glass of chilling cold ice water on my head, and dragged me out of the covers. My head was thumped on every single stair down the way. Every. Single. Stair. What an asshole. He told me that if I kept on acting like the games didn't mean anything, I should've signed my funeral check right then and there and handed it to Don Terio or Cyran Dole in that arena as I'd be their first meal of the evening. It was nice to know that my mentor had zero faith in his trainee whatsoever. Wasn't the first time.

During the dreadful announcement that was the Quell, Henry had written down all the names of the victors. Instead of showing me their games or even what they looked like, he described them to me- what they did and how effective they were. A few stars were placed by some I had to watch out for, namely both victors from District 1, District 2, District 4, and that was about it. Henry hadn't bothered knowing every victor, and I don't think he's even met all of them as he's been a fish out of the water for some time, distancing himself from that crowd as he hated being stereotyped with the rest of them.

Lucas gave me mental exercises. Word puzzles, watching a pencil float between my eyes as some sort of exam, the list went on and on. He wanted me to be sharp. Since school was not necessarily stressed for me, although Eden tried his hardest, bless his heart, I was lacking in that field. When you forget long division, something's up. I could see how this Quell was affecting my brother. He was conflicted. He wanted to be there for me. Lucas had held onto me so tight before, and still does, but he wanted tangibility, needed me there forever. I told him I couldn't do that. My brother thought I wasn't coming back. I understood that with my whole heart.

You could see it in his eyes, how determined he was to sign me off then and there. The way sweat trickled down his forehead whenever he saw me because the thought of me dying was just to hard for him. No one had it worse than he did, as he would just sit there and watch it happen without being able to even lift a finger for me. No worse pain than that. I didn't tell him this, but I was coming back.

Then July rolled around. That started the archery practices day in and day out. The sword fighting with Henry, complementary of Eden's surge of business. My mother could hardly work in the kitchen as I ate breakfast alongside her. She hated the fact that I was leaving them again. All my friends, all my family... they just acted content. And I didn't want content. I wanted anger, hurt, betrayal, sadness, depression. I wanted human emotion that I just wasn't getting.

In a session of grueling hand-to-hand combat, Henry nicked me in the shoulder. It was nothing too major, a slight cut if even that. But, when I was struck, I screamed. It hurt so bad, as I hadn't been injured for a long time. Last it happened, Lone stabbed me in the stomach with a scythe. I crumbled to the ground, rocking back and forth, hissing... I lost it. The pain didn't go away. Henry had to get Eden and Lucas to calm me down, and even then it wasn't enough. The few seconds of disruptive action brought me to my knees. Full fledged reality swung with the force of a mach truck. I was out of there, my little plastic bubble.

Today is August 8th. The reaping, which is on August 15th, is a Friday. I had one more week of sanity left to preserve. That intrusion into my skin affected the progress I made. Time ticked, it tocked, it lolled by and it took forever. In all of this, I still hadn't seen Bailey. I planned on righting my error, such things had to be done in a time of desperation. Stopping by her house early in the morning, I found from her loyal family that she escaped into the woods before sunrise. Took her bow, took her hiking boots. I knew where she was headed.

Out in the woods, there was this cabin. Secluded behind one of our favorite oak trees in the forest. No one knew about it. We both had stumbled upon it different times in our hunting season, chasing a prime deer that got us nothing more than a few strands of string. This cabin was beautiful. Mighty in the nature that built it however many years ago. The place was my second home. The cabin was placed in a field of azalea flowers, a stunning wave of beryl blue that dotted out the olive green grass and halcyon glow of the sunlight above. Bailey said it before too, she felt safe and experienced closure there. It's where she went. Had to be. No other place meant that much to us.

Taking my bow, and saying goodbye to Lucas before I headed out, it was high noon. Although I'm not a master of telling time, my senses told me it was one when I arrived in that field. An hour. It took an hour to reach our euphoric hiding place.

The wind blew strong, forceful like I'd never seen. An azalea flower was ripped from the ground, caught up into the air, taken on a wild ride. I grabbed it as it flew by my face, one petal landing softly on my nose that caused me to sneeze. It truly was a beautiful flower. Shame it had to be evicted from its home. Was the natural order of an ecosystem I suppose.

Bailey and I, when we were younger, named the cabin and the surrounding area. Gave it a mystical name like all children did. We called it Pratum Amor. With some help from Eden, I found out that it meant Meadow of Love. Ironic. Nature fell in love with us, and we fell in love with it. The wood of the cabin was old, so old that I could feel the aging groans and moans of the cabin as I stood on it, the ground buckling underneath my weight. I wasn't that heavy, but then yet again this home was aged. Streaks of iodine silver paint marked the walls, broken and chipped away to represent an old mural plastered on the back of the Justice Building. Roots and weeds grew in the crevices where animals couldn't reach. The place smelled of rat feces. Pratum Amor was busy while Bailey and I were gone.

Speaking of the devil, I found her. Bailey Resel, my best friend, the one my heart sometimes tore open from. Crouched, bent over, scrutinizing the wood as if she was a forensics investigator. I couldn't see her face, and I doubt she even know I was there. Her ebony hair was down for once, some grass stuck near her ears. If she noticed, Bailey didn't do anything. Her bow lay discarded in the corner, and I saw one arrow drenched in a putrid cardinal. Something must've attacked her or she killed something.

I wrung my hands. My mouth moved, but no words came out. Then, for the first time since March, I spoke to her. It had been six damn whole months since I even saw her. And, throughout all that time, it was a simple, "Hey."

Bailey jumped a mile high, gasping for air like a frightened child. Whipping around, a knife was clutched in her hands. The girl almost slit my stomach open, the idiotic git. She blinked, after the harrowing action of nearly killing me. Her eyes were lost, searching at a face she didn't even recognize. "Jo- Jonathan?" she stuttered.

All my best friend got was a half hearted wave. "Hello."

I expected a slap, an angry scream... a stomp, something in return for me ignoring her. None of that came my way. I got a hug. She threw her arms around me as hard as she could, knocking the wind straight out into a cough. The presence of another body wrapped around my waist was warm. Kind. Necessary. Needed. "Oh my god," Bailey breathed. "I've missed you."

"I- I missed you too."

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, detaching herself from me.

I smiled sheepishly. "I haven't spoken a word to you for six months. The Hunger Games are in a week, and we're both being shipped off to the Capitol as it is. Wanted to make sure our meeting happened before then. Threw it off for too long. How, uh, how you been?"

"Awful," Bailey admitted, her cheeks burning and blushing deeply. Half of her was happy to see me, I could sense it. Half of her had to have been angry, some part of my best friend's soul was surely dedicated to embarrassment. Last time we spoke, she had kissed me out of anger. Not the best way to leave things off, she realized. "Didn't speak for nearly a week after that Quell announcement."

"Who could?" I retorted.

She smiled, and right then and there I knew how much I missed her, how much Bailey Resel meant to me. Things like that couldn't be replaced, never in a million years. "I took up more time shooting. Eden helped me, and he told me all about how you reacted and that jazz. I can see that it was working, whatever you were doing. Got a bit taller, muscles are more prominent. Looking good."

Oh boy. Bailey Resel was back. She was back! "I-uh... thank you. You look fit."

"You're only saying that because I complimented you."

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Am not."

"Are you ready?" she asked me.

That caught me off guard. "Yeah- yeah. I am. Are you?" I answered, lying through my teeth. That was never fun to do. Lying. I always got caught in them. Day in and day out.

"Somewhat. You can never be certain," Bailey said coolly. She got closer to me. "I think now will be a good time to say that I'm sorry. For what I said the day you returned from the victory tour. We just had so much anger pent up inside of ourselves that we had no one else to put it out too except each other. I want you to know that. Although I don't regret the kiss."

I blushed. "I- I am sorry too. Things weren't meant to be that way, I realize. Life goes on and we mess up, but we then have to be prepared to dust ourselves off once we get the chance to, right?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think anyone will volunteer for you next week?"

She bit her lip. "I don't want to be the ass and say yes to that," Bailey admitted. "No one could take your place. You have to go into those games, which is a joke in itself. You won already. Why should you go back?"

"It's what the Capitol wants."

"Well screw the Capitol."

"If only that were true..."

We were quiet for a moment, staring at each other. Our eyes met, and I don't what it was, but I felt something spark. It hurt, but felt good at the same time. Almost as if we were sadists towards each other, which didn't seem that wrong. Her gaze trailed down to my chest, I kept focused on her face, dead and straight on.

"We could try and figure that out..." Bailey whispered.

"Maybe so," I nodded. "Maybe not..." We inched closer.

BAM! Like wildfire, we held no restraint. She grabbed me by the face, this time out of passion, and kissed me. It was hard, and it hurt and felt painful like no other, but I needed it. She needed it. We both deserved one moment of barebacking for the reason of why the hell not. She ran a hand through my hair, and mine lingered down her back, close enough where I could grab her on the behind if I so chose.

Whatever came next, probably shouldn't have. Either I tripped, or she grabbed me down a little bit too hard, but the next thing I knew, we were on top of each other on the floor of the cabin, hungrily and fiercely attacking each other. Her nails raked down my back, painful but pleasureful at the same time. A yelp escaped my lips, hushed by more kissing.

I felt her skin with roughness, equal matched force for both people involved. Never taking the time until now to notice, Bailey Resel sure had a nice ass. It was almost instinctive, but I squeezed, causing her to nearly yell. Not that she liked it, as her kiss deepened and caused me to lose focus on anything but that.

We broke apart, magnetically, but that interaction was forced. We looked at each other, panting heavily. I had no words for what even just happened. Whatever it was... I liked it. I wanted more of it.

"Jonathan, promise me this..." Bailey heaved.

"What exactly do you request?" I replied back.

"Don't you ever leave me in that arena. Don't you even consider it. I'd shoot you so hard between the eyes that you won't even get the chance to say you're sorry."

"Doesn't sound quite too bad."

"Intriguing." she smirked.

I kissed her again, then laid my head against her roaring chest. Our heartbeats were quick, fast paced and heavy. Love was strange. I could only imagine what my mother would say if she knew... actually I didn't want to think about that.

"I love you." I said.

Bailey smiled, kissing me back. "I love you too."

And I knew, right there, on that cabin floor, Bailey Resel was going to die. I loved her, and she was going to lose her life because of it. Came to me naturally, like a sixth sense. One that couldn't be broken. I loved her, my Bailey Resel, my best friend, and she was going to die.

I wasn't ready to lose her.

I'm not ready to lose her.

I won't lose her.

In all honesty, this ending section is WAY, and I mean way out of my comfort zone. That's the closest to sex I think I'll ever get. Even writing that Jonathan squeezed Bailey's butt was pushing it. But, hey, teens will be teens and love is experienced down the road one way or another. That was the chapter! I know it's still short, way smaller than the last one, but I just wrote this piece from 10:04 to 11:49 and it feels good having a 3.6-3.8k finished in such a quick time. Speed writing is fun, and I tend to try and make them as efficient and qualitative as possible, but I can't appease everyone, now can I? So, next chapter we have our illustrious reaping. Chapter title is vague and it'll make you think. Next chapter is Chapter 12: The Volunteer. Who could this be you wonder? Refer back to Chapter 10 for very subtle hints. Thanks so much for reading you guys, and I hope you all review and let me know what you thought of this chapter. As always, I love you all! Hope to see you soon for the next chapter. Bye you guys!

~ Paradigm