Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Note: And here's our second batch of interviews. Not much else to say this time.

Interviews Part Two
The Language of Strength

Metisse Avdeyev, 14
Sister of Niles Avdeyev

She had to be strong.

Metisse clenched her fists tightly, watching the screen through the bars of her cell. The Peacekeepers had separated them shortly after arresting them; she hadn't seen her father or her brother Nyran in days. And Niles … He was as good as dead already.

Chances were good, of course, that they were all as good as dead. Niles being reaped couldn't have been a coincidence. Nor was it coincidence that the three of them had been arrested moments later, and that they were still alive. They hadn't been killed yet. Hadn't even been condemned yet.

They were waiting. Waiting for Niles to die. Then they would follow.

Metisse swallowed hard. She wouldn't cry. That was what they wanted. That was why they had separated her from her father and brother. They wanted to break her. They wanted to break all of them.

But she wouldn't give them that satisfaction. She would die first. Probably quite literally.

Her father had always told them not to be scared – not to hesitate to give their lives if their cause was just. But, now that it came down to it, she was afraid. But not just of dying. She was even more afraid – terrified, even – that she was dying for nothing.

Because what would their deaths accomplish, in the end? The four of them would simply serve as examples to frighten the rest of the district. Examples of what happened to those who dared to speak out against the Capitol.

That was all they had done, after all. Speak out. They hadn't killed anyone. Hadn't attacked anyone. They'd protested, but they didn't have much of a following. They weren't really a threat. Weren't really a danger.

Maybe that was why they had to be stopped now, before they became a threat. Metisse nodded. That was it. The Capitol wasn't frightened of what they were now, but they were frightened of what they might become, given the right amount of time.

So they wouldn't be given that time.

Metisse looked up as District Five came on and the younger girl took the stage, wearing a gown of shimmery black silk. Metisse couldn't help remembering how the girl had skipped to the stage, grinning, at the reaping. But she wasn't smiling now. Not even a little.

Neither was Cornelius, whose attitude had suddenly grown serious – almost somber. "So, Mirami, most of us have already heard about the unfortunate incident last night. But why don't you tell us – in your own words – what happened?"

Mirami nodded solemnly. "You have to understand, I didn't see most of it. We had all gone to our rooms – all except Harakuise and Niles. I heard a … a noise. When I ran out to see what it was, I saw … I saw men pulling Niles off of Harakuise. He had a … a knife. And there was blood. It took me a few seconds to realize what had happened – that Niles had tried to kill Harakuise."

Metisse stared. Niles had tried to kill Harakuise? Obviously, he hadn't been successful, or the girl wouldn't have said 'tried to.' But the fact that he had even made an attempt filled her with pride. Realizing that he was going to die, anyway, Niles had set his mind on accomplishing something. Whether or not he had succeeded, he had let them know that he wasn't going to go quietly.

And neither would she.

Cornelius was shaking his head. "Such a terrible experience. Do you have any idea what might have come over him?"

Mirami shook her head. "He was probably scared – plain and simple. Maybe he thought that after he killed Harakuise, he could get away – try to escape. He was a coward. It's as simple as that."

Metisse clenched her teeth. Her brother was not a coward. He was braver than the rest of them combined, because he had done something. Something that said, "No more. We will not give in. We will fight back."

If only others had the will to follow.

Soon, the girl's time was up, and the other girl took the stage, wearing a lilac-colored dress, a light blue sweater, and a pink bow in her hair. She, at least, was smiling, which seemed to lighten the mood. "So, Mercury," Cornelius nodded. "Would you give us your opinion on what happened last night?"

"I didn't see much, either," Mercury admitted. "I'm just glad he's all right. After everything he's done for District Five – after everything the Capitol has done for us through the victors – it would be terrible for him to die so senselessly."

"Then you agree that it was a senseless act – that he had done nothing to provoke this madness?"

"Of course it was senseless!" Mercury agreed immediately. "He's a victor. A mentor. He's here to help save our lives. Not my life, personally – Sabine's my mentor – but the life of someone from District Five. And everything he's done back in the district – helping the orphans, the homeless, punishing criminals. He's a hero."

Metisse glared. Were their mentors coaching them, or did they honestly believe all of this? Did they actually see Harakuise as the hero? Metisse clenched her fists tightly, waiting for Niles to come and set the record straight.

There was a brief silence after the girl was finished, but, at last, her brother was led onstage – handcuffed, his feet in shackles, with a guard gripping each arm. The guards ushered him to the chair and chained him in place, then left. All the while, Niles said nothing – but his glare said everything.

Cornelius, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. In fact, his usual, cheerful smile had returned. "So, Niles, care to give us your account of what happened last night?" Niles said nothing. "What? Nothing to say in your own defense?"

Metisse leaned forward. Tell them, Niles. Tell them what a monster Harakuise is. Tell them to stand up against the Capitol. Tell them that the districts deserve better than to have children sent to their deaths. Tell them.

Still, Niles said nothing, though he stirred a little, clearly uncomfortable. So Cornelius continued. "So are we to assume that it's true, then – that you attempted to murder your mentor in an act of selfishness and cowardice?"

That brought Niles to his feet, straining against his chains, mouth open in protest. But, instead of words, only grunts and wails emerged. Only then, as the guards rushed onstage to sedate him and drag him away, did Metisse realize what had happened. What they had done. They hadn't wanted her brother to tell the audience the truth, so they had silenced him the only way they knew how.

They had turned him into an Avox.

Metisse buried her face in her hands. Niles' voice – his words – had always meant so much to him. And now the Capitol had taken even that away from him. Because they were afraid. Because they were cowards. Because they were weak.

But she would be strong for Niles.

Matt Todd, 18
Brother of Luke Marsanskis

They had to be strong.

Matt and Erik sat together, watching – as they had for the last five years – from their house in Victors' Village. Only this year, everything was different. They were used to Vernon being gone – he was always gone during the Games. And he always came back.

But would Luke?

Matt squeezed Erik's hand tightly. Luke had as good a chance as anyone else. Better, probably. He'd gotten a nine in training, after all. And he would have Vernon there to help him.

But Vernon wouldn't be in the Games with him. As much as they knew he wanted to, Vernon couldn't be there when it mattered most. Luke would have to rely on himself.

Matt shook his head. All three of them had learned to rely on themselves before Vernon had taken them in. All three of them had been living on the streets, begging or stealing to get their next meal, caring for each other because no one else would. Those memories were buried beneath the five years of plenty that Vernon had provided, but they were still there, waiting to surface again.

Waiting to be used.

After all the drama in District Five, Cornelius was clearly hoping to get back in a normal rhythm. He was grinning as the younger girl from Six took the stage, wearing a long, flowing black dress, stitched with intricate patterns that matched her eye patch. She giggled as she took a seat next to Cornelius, but he smiled back, completely unfazed.

"So, Ryzer," he leaned forwards, and the girl quickly mimicked him. "Nines in training for your whole district. What do you make of that?"

Matt had been wondering the same. He hadn't expected even Luke to get a nine, let alone all three of them. Maybe without the normal amount of Careers in the mix, the Gamemakers' standards were lower. But still, it seemed odd.

Ryzer simply giggled, then sang out in a high-pitched voice. "Three times three to make up nine. Three of us will not survive."

That got Cornelius' attention. "Are you saying that not all three of you will survive, or that none of you will?"

Ryzer burst out laughing. "Not us, silly. With present, past, and future, too, Gamemakers know what to do."

"I'm not sure I understand—"

"Of course you don't. All the questions, all the lights – they don't help improve your sight."

Matt smiled a little, in spite of himself. The girl was completely insane. But it was pretty funny to see Cornelius so completely flustered.

Soon, her time was up, and the other girl took her place, wearing a short, puffed, silver skirt, a long-sleeved black top with a high neck and decorated with half-wheels, and black boots. "So, Cassandra," Cornelius began hesitantly, perhaps worried that the girl would answer the same way as her district partner. "What do you make of your district's high training scores?"

Cassandra shrugged, indifferent. "I know what I did to get it, and I don't really care what they did. I'm not worried about them. I'm worried about myself. And focusing on saving myself doesn't include being curious about what my district partners might have shown the Gamemakers."

Cornelius nodded. "Focus. Determination. I like that. Can you give us any insight into what you have planned for the Games?"

"I plan to kill," Cassandra answered plainly. "That's all there is to it, in the end, isn't there? All the strategy, all the clever plans and schemes – it all boils down to whether someone's willing to kill or not. And I am."

Matt looked away. She had a point. Regardless of what Luke or any of the others had planned, a victor had to be willing to kill. Was Luke? His high training score suggested the answer was yes, but Matt still had a hard time picturing his brother killing anyone.

Then again, he had a hard time picturing Vernon killing anyone. And he had. Maybe anyone could, when it came down to it. When their life was on the line, maybe anyone could become a killer.

Finally, the girl's time was up, and Luke took the stage, wearing a black suit and black boots. Unlike Cassandra, he was smiling a little, but not the same giddy smile as Ryzer. A strong, confident smile the Cornelius gave right back, perhaps grateful that things had returned to normal.

"So, Luke," Cornelius nodded in the direction of the girls who had left. "Nines for all three of you. What do you make of it?"

Luke nodded. "Well, like Cassandra said, I know what I did to get it. I don't know what they did, but it must have been good. Only two tributes scored higher than the three of us, so that says a lot."

"Indeed, it does," Cornelius agreed. "Do you think this will have any effect on your strategy for the Games?"

Luke thought for a moment. "It certainly makes them a threat – the two of them working together and all. They're certainly a pair to watch out for – maybe even a pair to target first."

"And that doesn't bother you – the idea of targeting your own district partners?"

Luke shook his head. "Not at all. They're going to have to die, anyway, if I'm going to win. Whether it's me or someone else who kills them – I don't know why that should make much of a difference."

Matt nodded. Good words. Strong words. Exactly what the audience would want to hear. But did Luke mean it? Was he really planning to go after his district partners first? Or was it just a ploy to create drama, win sponsors?

Maybe Luke was right, in the end. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe it didn't matter what he did – what he had to do – in order to come home. All that mattered was that he did – and that, when he did, his family would be waiting for him. So they would watch – he and Erik – and whatever their brother did, whatever he was forced to do, they would stay strong.

They would be strong for Luke.

Levi Terris, 15
Brother of Saoirse Terris

They had to be strong.

Levi sat on the floor with his parents, older brother Trevor, and younger brother Armin, watching the screen in anticipation. He'd never gone a day without seeing his sister, and now it had been days – ever since the tribute parade. And now this was the last time they would see her before the arena.

Before the Games.

Levi huddled close to his brothers. Part of him wished that their trick at the reaping had worked. That he had been able to volunteer, instead. Maybe he wouldn't have a better chance – Saoirse had managed a six in training, after all – but at least it would mean he wouldn't be the one waiting here. Just waiting. Unable to do anything that might – in even the smallest way – affect the outcome of the Games.

At last, District Seven began, and Saoirse took the stage, wearing a white blouse, black pants, and black high heels. She was smiling as she sat down next to Cornelius – her usual, playful smirk that Levi had seen every day for as long as he could remember.

Cornelius didn't waste any time turning the topic to them. "So, Saoirse, am I correct in assuming that you knew the boys who tried to volunteer for you at the reaping? Adoring suitors, perhaps?"

Saoirse held back a laugh. "Actually, they're my brothers."

"Your brothers!" Cornelius made a show of acting surprised, though someone had surely told him in advance. "Well, that's some display of family loyalty, even if it was all in vain. Is there anything you'd like to say to the brave young men watching?"

Saoirse nodded. "Trevor, I'm … I'm glad you're safe. It was your last year, so I'm glad they didn't let you volunteer for me. You're safe for good now. Armin, don't you dare touch my stuff while I'm gone!" She was still smiling, but it was clearly forced, and there were tears in her eyes. "Levi, that prank we were planning – I'm sorry I let you go through with it on your own." She was crying now. "Mom, Dad, I'm sorry I—" Whatever the rest of the sentence was, it was muffled by her sobbing. "I love you all," she managed at last.

Cornelius did his best to soothe her, but it did no good. Levi realized he was crying, as well. "We love you, too, Saoirse," their mother whispered, as if she could hear them. Levi buried his face in Trevor's shirt. It had never quite felt real, until this moment.

His sister was going to die.

He would probably never see her again.

But at least she had said it. She had said goodbye. She had told them she loved them. And she knew they loved her. Maybe that was the best they could ask for, in the end: each other's love.

Soon, Saoirse's time was up, and the other girl took her place, wearing a dark green dress and a smile that, unlike Saoirse's, didn't fade as Cornelius began asking questions. "So, Viktoria," Cornelius smiled, "anyone you'd like to say hello to back home?"

Viktoria smirked. "If you're trying to get me to start crying about my brothers, you're out of luck, Cornelius." But she waved to the cameras, anyway. "Take care of Mom and Dad, Anatoli. I'll be back soon."

Cornelius nodded. "You're sure about that. That's good. What makes you so confident you'll be coming home?"

Viktoria shrugged. "Why not? I've got as good a chance as anyone else, don't I? I got a seven in training. I know what I'm doing. Why not me?"

Levi brushed the tears from his eyes. Why not her? Well, then, why not Saoirse? There was no reason to count her out yet – not really. She seemed just as strong as the other girl, and they were both older than the boy. If it was going to be someone from District Seven – and, of course, there was no guarantee that it would be, but why not? – then why not her? Why not his sister?

Soon, Viktoria's time was up, and the boy took the stage, wearing a light green button-down shirt and brown pants. He didn't even make an attempt at smiling; his expression was already serious, almost fierce. "So, Jason," Cornelius grinned. "You seem prepared for tomorrow."

"As prepared as I can be," Jason agreed. "As prepared as I'll ever be, considering I don't really have a choice in the matter. But there is something I can choose – I can choose whether to go in fighting, or to kicking and screaming. And I'm going in fighting."

Cornelius nodded. "That's what we like to see – taking a situation you didn't choose and making it your own! And a seven in training. Pretty impressive for not having any prior experience. You must have picked up a lot. Can you give us any insight into what you've learned?"

Jason thought for a moment before answering, and his answer chilled Levi to the bone. "I learned what I'm capable of." He glanced over towards the Gamemakers' box. "Thank you for showing me, Mr. Florum. I'll put it to good use."

The camera panned to the Gamemakers in time to show Helius giving him a playful salute. Levi glanced at his brothers. What did he mean? Surely the Gamemakers hadn't done anything already. Surely they weren't already taking sides.

No. No, Jason was probably just trying to make it look like they had. It was no secret that the Gamemakers sometimes took sides between tributes, but it was almost always against a rebel or a troublemaker or someone who was truly, irreparably insane – someone who couldn't be allowed to win. Saoirse was none of those things. She was safe. As safe as she could be.

Levi gripped Trevor's hand. She still had a chance. Sure, she had cried during the interviews, but he would have done the same thing. Any of them would. He was almost surprised more people didn't cry. Or shout. Or complain. They were all playing along. In a way, Saoirse's willingness to cry in front of the audience wasn't a show of weakness, but of strength. The strength it took to reveal one's emotions to complete strangers. He wasn't sure he had that strength.

But he wasn't among strangers. He was with his family. And here, they all had the courage to cry. Because that was what held them together. That was what made them strong. And they would stay that way.

They would stay strong for Saoirse.

Davy Garner, 12
Friend of Janardan Fletcher

He had to be strong.

Davy brushed the tears from his eyes. They were all gone. Emmett, Victoria, Chaser, Carlton – all gone. All taken by the Peacekeepers. Not dead yet – not as far as he knew – but it wouldn't take long. They knew. They had to.

The Peacekeepers had found them after the goodbyes. He had run. He had escaped.

But he couldn't run forever.

He had taken refuge in District Eight's community home. Fletcher had always said the best place to hide was right under everyone's noses. So far, his advice had proven sound; no one had noticed the little boy in the corner. Not the orphans, not the workers, and certainly not the Peacekeepers.

He was safe for now.

So, as much as he hated it, Davy forced himself to watch the screen. Just like everyone else. He had to blend in. Had to go unnoticed.

But for how long?

The girl from Eight took the stage first, wearing a slim black dress with a white stripe across the middle, silver earrings, and silver sandals. Her long, flowing hair hung loose in the front and was poofed up in the back. She was smiling a little, her head held high, looking almost bored.

Cornelius, however, looked anything but bored. He leaned forward a little in his chair, eager, anticipating. "So, Shilo, I hear you have some information for the audience. A little … secret about one of your district partners."

Davy froze. A secret. He couldn't possibly be referring to anyone but Fletcher. But how would she know? Had he told her? Had she put it together on her own?

Shilo shrugged. "I don't think it's much of a secret if he tells another tribute in the middle of training and I just happen to overhear. And, mind you, I'm not saying it's true – only that he claims it is."

Cornelius grinned. "Of course, of course. Tell us."

Don't tell them, Davy pleaded silently. Please. Just don't say it. If they know, Fletcher's as good as dead.

Shilo rolled her eyes. "One of my district partners claims he's the Robber Prince."

The audience murmured. So did the orphans. Davy said nothing. Cornelius raised an eyebrow. "Claims, you say. I take it you don't believe him."

Shilo shrugged. "Doesn't really matter whether or not I believe him. If he's going to pretend to be an outlaw who steals from Capitol citizens … well, he deserves to face the consequences."

Davy clenched his fists tightly. How could she say that? Everything they'd done – everything Fletcher and the Brotherhood had accomplished – had been for them. For people like her. Ordinary citizens who didn't have the means to stand up to the Capitol themselves. It was all for them.

And she had betrayed him.

Soon, the girl's time was up, and the younger boy took the stage, wearing a tie-dyed three piece suit, a rainbow-colored tie, and a shaky smile. Cornelius didn't waste any time. "So, Enzo, what do you make of the claim that a tribute from District Eight could be the famous Robber Prince?"

Enzo hesitated a moment, fiddling with his tie. Then he looked straight at the cameras and gave them his best smile. "All right, you caught me."

What?

Cornelius wasn't fazed for an instant. "Are you saying that you are the Robber Prince?"

Enzo nodded. "Thought it was Fletcher, didn't you. Completely overlooked the little twelve-year-old. Well, I'm not about to let someone else take the credit." He smiled smugly, and, for a moment, almost looked like Fletcher. "I'm the one you're after. That's right – all those cons, all those robberies, masterminded by a twelve-year-old. All the best Capitol investigators, all those Peacekeepers, outwitted by a twelve-year-old. What do you have to say to that?"

"And your family?"

"As clueless as the rest of you. They had no idea what I was really up to." Enzo was still smiling, but Davy could see his face growing paler. He hadn't even thought about the possible repercussions for his family. Davy swallowed hard, hoping this little charade didn't cost the boy's family their lives.

Davy watched as the audience ate it up – the tales of this little Prince's exploits, exaggerated from the stories the Brotherhood had spread themselves. Davy smiled a little. Enzo wasn't the Robber Prince, of course, but, for this moment, he was just as brave.

Soon, his time was over, and Fletcher took his place, wearing a dark gold suit and bright gold tie. As the two passed each other, Fletcher smiled a little and clapped Enzo on the back. Cornelius didn't miss it. "So, Fletcher," he grinned, "what do you make of your district partner's confession?"

Don't say it. Davy watched the screen intently. Don't. Just this once, Fletcher, just this once, keep your mouth closed.

But, of course, he didn't. "I think it was one of the bravest things I've ever seen," he admitted. "I think it was a noble gesture. And I'm sorry, Enzo, but I can't let you take the credit – or the blame – for what I've done." He turned towards the cameras. "I am the Robber Prince."

Cornelius grinned. "Intriguing, indeed. What do you think would prompt Enzo to claim your identity?"

Fletcher smiled a little. "I would hope it's because he believes – as do many others, I'm sure – that I'm someone worth imitating. That I've set an example that's worth following. I would imagine there are many others like him in the districts – others who have, at one point or another, imagined that they were the Robber Prince. That, using nothing but their wits and their words, they could outwit anyone from an upper-class citizen to the Capitol itself. Who wouldn't want to do that? Who wouldn't want to be that?"

"Be that as it may, I don't imagine there are many people who envy your position at the moment."

Fletcher shrugged. "Probably not. It's true: You've got me. And I imagine I won't make it out of that arena alive." He grinned. "But I'm not going down without a fight."

Davy looked away, trying to hide his tears. But, just as Fletcher's interview was finished, there was a pounding on the door. Peacekeepers stormed in. Davy leapt up, but it was too late. Two of them grabbed him. Dragged him out the door and into the rain.

Davy clenched his fists. They had him. They had the others. They had Fletcher. And they thought that meant they had won. But they hadn't won. Not yet. He would fight. He would be strong.

He would be strong for Fletcher.

"The Universe speaks with many languages, but only one voice. It speaks in the language of hope. It speaks in the language of trust. It speaks in the language of strength and the language of compassion."