A/N: Finally, a chapter that a bunch of people requested. Here's the view from Panem!

Gingham Cleaver, 34, District Six victor, Panem

"Mommy?" my little girl, Dannon, trots by my side and laces her tiny fingers into my long, slender, magenta ones.

"Yes, sweetheart?" I ask. My voice is deep, booming compared to her small and squeaky one.

"Salton said that he thinks Lily's gonna die first," Dannon says seriously. I bend down and examine her face. Her cheeks, although chubby, have small holes in them shaped of hearts. Inside the hearts are red rubber, so it gives off the impression of large red freckles. Her hair is in a pixie cut and it's blond.

"Mommy, is that true?" asks Dannon.

I scruff her hair up just to tease her. "Salton just wants David to win, that's all. I'm sure Lily will make it far, honey."

Salton, my fourteen-year-old son, who is behind me, gives me a poke in the ribs- or what used to be my ribs. Now it's just a casing of pure iron.

"Motherrrr," he whines. "Can I put my sponsor money all on David? I think he has the best shot out of all those weaklings."

"You know I like to wait until the interviews," I snap. "That's when we get to know the tributes best. I still think you'd be better off with Justice."

"Why not Jack?" asks Dannon.

Salton rolls his head back exasperatedly, showing off his pure tanned neck covered with tiny diamonds. "Mother! It's obvious that Jack doesn't stand a chance. He's way too quiet!"

"What about Lily? Or Spark-Ella?" Dannon puts her tiny hands on her small hips. "Spark-Ella's good."

"SHE stands less of a chance than JACK!" yells Salton. He throws his hands in the air. "It's David for the win!"

"Hush, Salton," I say, buttoning up my pea coat. "I have to go to a sponsor meeting."

"But why, Mommy?" asks Dannon, her huge blue eyes sagging with sadness. "You're never here for us."

I kiss the top of my five-year-old's head. "Honey, I have to work. You like living in this nice big apartment, don't you?"

"Yeah," mutters Salton, flopping back onto our leather sofa. Then in an instant he's back up on his feet, eyes wide and excited.

"Does that mean I can order anything I want for dinner?"

"Me too, me too, me too!" shrieks Dannon with happiness.

I smile. "Sorry, sweethearts."

I press a red button near the door and speak loudly. "Franc, we need two orders of chicken heart salads, two orders of cranberry almond soup, two of sheep's milk with sweet cream, and two of banana tofu cream pudding, please. Children's portions."

"I'm not a child!" shouts Salton indignantly.

"All right, Salton. One child's plate, one mid-adult. Happy, Salton?"

"Not really," he says. "I hate chicken heart salad and cranberry soup."

"Me too," cries Dannon.

I shake my head and exit.

On the way down the hallway, I stop and make sure nobody's looking before I inject a syringe into my arm vein. Morphling flows throughout my body and I sigh with relief. "Yes," I whisper. This is the only thing that has kept me alive.

An illegal drug.

O-O-O-O-O-O

"Sorry I'm late, everybody. I had to order dinner for my kids." I sit down at the table, undressing from my green pea coat and cashmere beret.

"Nobody cares, Ginge," Haymitch Abernathy hollers at me, taking a swig of white liquor from his bottle. He's drunk, like every year.

Finnick Odair smiles at me and shrugs. "It's all right, Mrs. Cleaver," he says silkily. As usual, he's stripped down to khaki shorts and a leather braided necklace. His shiny brown hair is tossed and smells of pineapple.

I nod at the rest of the victors. Only do I recognize a few- there's Luke Ford from Five, who won quite a bit ago. Annie Cresta from Four, who was last year's victor, I think? Some very recent year. Blight Towers from Seven is one of my favorite people here. His green eyes welcome me to the table of victors.

"So," says Gloss Kirchim, a victor from One. "Let's see who has the most sponsor money today."

I remain tight-lipped. Gloss is not the best person. With his slimy ways and overconfident self, he could possibly be the worst vanquisher here.

"Gloss," mouths old Mags from Four. She's lost all her teeth, and from a stroke that she had a couple years ago, her health is falling downward.

"I agree with Mags," says Finnick. He looks directly at Gloss. "You don't have to be so cocky."

"What?" taunts Gloss. "I'm just saying what's true. We've done this before, Odair. Basically, whoever has the most sponsor money, their tribute wins! It's that simple."

"NO," shrieks Annie, cupping her hands over her ears.

Finnick glares at Gloss, who quickly returns the favor. I sigh.

"Everybody just stop. We've got only two hours to figure out the ratings for this year!" I say, standing up.

"Oh, look," Cashmere says airily. "Six. The only living female victor, am I right?"

I grit my teeth. "You are correct, Cashmere," I reply. With that, I motion to the wall behind Luke Ford and Mags. "See the ratings? Apparently, the One and Two children are in favorites."

"But don't forget Four," Finnick says, his eyes searching mine, trying to find something that's not there. A light? Hope? "Lance is coming on strong, you know."

"Uck," Enobaria from Two gags. "The NINE victors are also a crowd favorite. It's that romance thing they've got going on, obviously."

"For the cameras!" Haymitch splutters. "We just need to exploit them somehow. Show 'em it's not all it's cracked up to be!"

"Haymitch," Blight says, an edge to his voice. He motions to the wall. "Continue, Gingham."

"Thank you, Blight." I nod in his general direction. "As you can see, twenty percent of Panem population have not yet given their sponsor money away, unlike most of us here."

"Are you kidding?" Gloss sputters. "Are you frigging KIDDING me? It's so obvious that Diamond will win. She's got good meat on her bones, Gingham! Heck, if a tribute comes in contact with her sword it'll be dead in seconds!"

"I agree," Cashmere seconds his wording.

I roll my eyes. "All right, people. No need for further conversation about our tributes."

"Why does Twelve always get the loony ones?" Haymitch moans, taking a big gulp of his liquor. "Cloe's hearing VOICES still!"

Some victor from Seven cocks an imaginary finger gun at him. "You're not the only one," says a dark-haired woman. "Blight and I got this one guy last year, and he saw spirits. You know. You saw him, right? Ferris Conway. Craziest guy I've EVER met."

"Pardon me for asking, but I don't seem to remember your name," Cecelia from Eight says to her.

The woman scoffs. "How could you FORGET?" She says, all gutsy. "Johanna Mason. That's my name, so DO NOT wear it out."

Oh, yes. However could I have forgotten Johanna, the bad to the bone girl who stripped once she won her Games? The Gamemakers censored it, of course, but that didn't change the fact that she exposed herself. Sniveling weakling, my foot.

"I remember him," says a woman in her thirties, another victor from Seven. She's one of my best friends. Her name is Cedar Relic, and she won in a forest arena in the 60th Hunger Games. "Ferris. That was your first mentoring job, correct, Johanna?"

"Right, right," Johanna says loftily.

"People, people! We're getting off track!" I hold up both my hands. "We need to hurry along fast. Sponsor money is a big deal!"

"All right," Finnick sighs. He stands up. "I'll give one half of my money to Lance, one eighth to Justice, one eighth to Lilicon Jummers, and one fourth to Kristine. Mark that down, please, Woof."

Woof from Eight complies happily.

"Half to Jack, half to- actually, NO. Willow doesn't stand a chance, I think. All of mine to Jack Marko. DISTRICT SEVEN!" shrieks Johanna to the trembling old man.

"Yes" I think Woof says.

"Half of my sponsor bucks to Diamond, half to Eve," says Cashmere.

"All of mine to Diamond," announces Gloss, glaring at anybody who has the slightest bit of a questioning look on their face.

"I'll give half of mine to Jacqueline, half to Hydrangea," croaks Haymitch. He looks around the room. "Face it, Cloe will die in the bloodbath. We all know that."

"She could possibly stand a chance," Enobaria pleads. "Give all of yours to her, Mitch. Every year you pick two random tributes."

"How about EVE and Caty, then?" challenges Haymitch.

Enobaria smiles, revealing her fangs. "That would be sufficient," she says, delighted.

I roll my eyes. "Enobaria, the only reason you said that was because Eve is your tribute," I point out. Around me, Seeder and Chaff and Luke Ford and Wiress and all the elder victors begin nodding suspiciously.

Enobaria shows her golden, pointed teeth at me. "So what if I am?" she asks. She gets a menacing look in her eyes. "YOU WANNA GO, GINGHAM?!"

I roll my eyes for what feels like the sixtieth time. "No," I say. "We're not eighth graders any more. We're respectable adults trying to help some tributes survive! GOD!"

Great, now I'm starting to sound like that David Brown.

"Eve and Caty," says Haymitch to Woof. "Mark that down. It's important."

I think Woof croaks out, "Will do, Haymitch" but it sounds more like "We do, Ay Itch." Did I mention that Woof had his throat relocated in his Games? He would have died, but some crazy girl from Two helped him out with medicine. This was, of course, before the One and Two alliance formed. Woof's seventy-eight and still up and running.

"All right," I sigh. "I suppose. Seeder? Beetee? You guys want to add to the pot?"

Seeder shakes her head slowly, scanning my face with huge brown eyes. "I'm still waiting for the interviews," she says softly. "I didn't get to mentor this year, so I'm still in the dark about Saffron and her partner. I would appreciate if they were sweet kids, but something tells me that that is not the case."

Chaff guffaws loudly, clapping her on the back. "I got to mentor this year, Ginger! Put me down for Saffron all the way! She's sure a strong one, and has a great mind, too!"

Enobaria rolls her eyes. "She's SO unappreciative of everything," she scoffs. "She just sits there with a stupid scowl on her face all the time. She doesn't even pretend! That, to me, is a bad tribute, Chaff."

Chaff glares at the younger female. "You may not know her like I do," he says slowly, "But Saffron is the best tribute I've met thus far."

"Oh, BRA-VO. As if Eleven has any GOOD tributes, any year!" cries the fanged woman.

"HEY!" screams a young man from Eleven who won five years ago at fifteen. His name is Borris von Cleven, and he's very unpleasant.

"Not to be mean, but… I TOTALLY agree. The Eleven people are weaklings!" Johanna laughs.

"Watch your back," Seeder counters, brushing a loose strand of hair away.

Johanna spits on the ground. "Sure."

"Calm," Vicia, from Two, says softly. Her son, Justice, is in the Games this year and I'm positive that she's stressed, so for her sake, I speak up.

"PEOPLE," I cry, exasperated. "We have only an hour left. We've wasted fifteen minutes already! I need to get home to my children, people. Time's running out!"

"Sorry, sorry," murmured Seeder.

"Why do we have to do this all now, so soon?" asks Cecelia. "Some of us are waiting for interviews."

"Yeah. I want to see if Jack is the nice guy he seems," Mags said. Or, I think she said. She said something which I did not understand, so I'm just going with that.

"Sure," said Johanna, standing up and giving me a threatening look. "We'll wait."

I sigh. "OK, but before we disband, does anybody else want to cast their sponsor money down?"

"Me," said Chaff. "Saffron, Woof."

"Yes," Woof replied. This time it was a clear word.

"Thank you, Woof. I'll put down half on Jack Marko and half on Roland, please," said some victor from Ten.

"Yes," said the old man Woof again.

I began putting on my purple snakeskin gloves and pea coat to leave when Finnick Odair stopped me.

"Why are you putting them on?" he asked, moistening his lips just a bit with his tongue and gazing straight into my eyes. Unafraid. "There would be much more fun with them off."

I laugh nervously. "Flattering, Finnick, but my days as a slave to Snow are over. I don't have to pay for the Games any more, and I refuse to even think about it."

Finnick sighed dramatically. "Snow tells me the more I sle-"

"FINNICK," I say loudly.

"Right, right," he growls. "So where are you going, pretty thing?"

I don't object, in case he has more pet names up his sleeve. "The interviews, of course," I say loftily, and prod him in his chest with my pointer finger. "By the way, best of luck, guest of honor."

Finnick smirks, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Yes, I suppose the Capitol will be given a good show tonight," he says, loftily. He leans forward and tilts my chin up with his left hand. "Can't wait to see that, can you?"

"Just dying to," I say sarcastically. "And I suppose you'll be covering your crotch with a coconut shell again, like last time?"

Finnick tosses his head back to laugh. "You catch on fast," he tells me.

"For seriously," I say, only half-serious at the moment. "What will it be this time? A lemon tied around a string? An apple peel? Or are we moving out of the fruit theme right into fish? Are we going to cover up with a tuna fin?"

Finnick holds up his hands in defense. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he defends. "A lemon would hurt badly, an apple peel would be too (ahem) small, and a tuna fin? Actually, that's not bad, but it would reek. And you know how Caesar's very precise about that, Gingham."

"Yes," I say. I glance at the wall clock. "Well, godspeed, Finnick. I have to get prepped now."

"I don't think we'll be seeing each other in person till this time next year, so good luck with your tributes," Finnick tells me, raising his eyebrows.

"Thanks, you as well."

O-O-O-O-O-O

Finnick Odair, 18, District Four victor, Panem

"I think that this could be pushing the limits," I say, examining my nearly bare body in the mirror. "Are you sure that they'd even allow this?"

Vultura, Cami, and Parch, my trio prep team, giggle with excitement.

"You'll be the talk of Panem, Finnick!" Vultura purrs with excitement.

"There's never been anything like it!" squeals Cami, kicking up a silver leg behind her in fits of happiness and joy.

"This will make you simply stunning, Finnick," says Parch, adjusting the only real stitch of clothing on me- a black bowtie.

I twirl my body around counterclockwise, still gazing into the mirror, and give a sigh. "Thank you, I suppose I need to say," I tell them. "For all you've… done to me."

"No worries!" Cami says in her nasal voice. "Just remember to mention us in your speech, won't you?"

"No," I mutter under my breath, but they've gone and moved onto a different subject.

When I am let out of my dressing room to get my teeth scrubbed white, the last thing I need to do, my thoughts are elsewhere. With my tributes. They are training right now. I wonder if they're taking an hour-long break to see me, or if their trainers are still pushing them to the limits. Once I remember that the tributes have dinner right now and are probably watching, I feel ashamed. I'm close to naked, as always, but tonight I am nearly naked and talking about them. The other tributes? Will they taunt them?

"And now, for the 64th Hunger Games victor here to talk tributes, Finnick Odair!"

I swagger out from behind the misty taffeta curtain, a dazzling white smile splayed all over my face. Right now Caesar is dressed entirely in mint green, and his hair is only a tad darker than his suit.

"Finnick! Finnick! What a pleasure to see you again- and might I say, SEE might be a most excellent word to use!" Caesar laughs.

Here we go. I am covered only in tiny white sparkles- not everywhere, just down there. My black bowtie and black sandals are a contrast, and my eyes are done up with black as well. In my hair there is a black bowler hat with a sparkly white fish pattern. This might be my most risky but tempting outfit yet.

I nod, running a hand through my hair seductively and looking straight at a camera. "We should only hope that you copy it next year, Caesar," I smirk.

Caesar makes a face, then keeps on chuckling. "Finnick. Let's get right down to business, shall we? We know that your tributes are rather fine children. Kristine and Lance, both. They just might be victors, with their muscles and brains!"

"Well, these Games will definitely be a mixture of brains and brawn, that's correct," I counter. "After all, from what I've seen, there are handfuls of smart tributes, and even more of them that are excellent at weapons. Swords, spears, whips, bows and arrows, staffs, daggers, knives, hand-to-hand, and my personal favorite… Tridents!" Roars of applause and cheers from the live audience.

"Yes, Finnick, we do have an interesting round of tributes this year!" Caesar's eyes are totally sparkly, all glossy. "So, Finnick. Talk to me! Aside from your own tributes, what other ones have caught the eye of you?"

I scratch my chin, pretending to be lost in thought when the names bounce around my head. "You know, that one girl from Three, Lilicon? She's great at keeping her cool, as most of you saw." Laughter and catcalls of Lilicon's name are thrown out of the audience. "And I also have my eye on Justice. That boy shows some real promise."

"Diamond- does she catch your eye, Finnick Odair?"

"Diamond's flashy and seductive, I'll give you that," I purr to the cameras. "But let's see if she can keep up that in the arena."

"You already said Justice, but what about Eve? Surely you admire her."

"God, yes, Caesar. She's a wonderful person with weapons. If she trains a bit more in the non-weapon stations, she could be the greatest threat in the arena!"

"What about Kenji, the man from Three?"

I stroke my chin. "You know, it's hard to talk about people that are your own age, and Kenji's one of them. If I wasn't Reaped four years ago and instead was for this Games, he'd be one of my biggest threats, obviously."

"You already told us in that previous interview about your tributes… But… What about the duo from Five, Finnick? Sparkella and Jacques. Two very young but bright children. Is there anything special about them to you?"

I scratch my neck. "Um, Sparkella's albino and small, so there are two advantages right there. But I think she'll be more strategic. She's got a great, excellent head on her shoulders. I think she has potential. And Jacques? That boy, when he has a staff, that boy is in POWER. Caesar, I think they'll both do great."

"What about the poetic duo from Six, Jackie and Aiden? Got any advice for those two?" Caesar asked, leaning in close. He reeked of coconut and aftershave.

"You know, Caesar, I'll be honest with all of you guys here. They're underdogs, we can all see that. I'm being frank. But I think that underdogs can go unnoticed. They could be great, truly great. Heck, look at my friend Johanna. Johanna Mason. She was the underdog of her Games, and look at her now! She was a killing MACHINE, Caesar! Now, I'm not saying that's what those two should be doing, but it's obvious that they will have some tricks up their sleeves."

"Seven? Jack and Willow?"

"Also underdogs. But Jack, he's all mysterious and that, he could elude people. A lot. And that, my friend, is what could make him great."

Caesar's audience gave murmurs of thought and quiet conversation. Yes, Jack could go far. He is very elusive. We'll give him that.

"And Willow? I think that once she's into an alliance, she… well, you can tell that she will do good. That memory, Caesar! That memory. That's a gift, something that not a lot of tributes have. It's rare."

"I agree with you there, Finnick!" Caesar's hearty laugh rings in my ears. "What do you think about Caty and David, the pair from Eight?"

"Caty- one word. Camouflage. If she has that down because of her skin, she can elude, much like Jack, and then she can… she can…"

At a loss for words, I look desperately offstage. At Caesar. Anywhere.

"I agree completely!" Caesar's saved me, thank God. "What about David? Anything special about that boy?"

"Weapons. They're his strong suit. But I do think that his arrogance may wear him down, weapons is all I have to say."

"The two from Nine, Finnick?"

"Oh, GOD. There's so much, so much that I could say about those two. I'm trying to keep it short, here, but… KEEP. UP. THAT. ROMANCE. If one of them gets killed, the other will surely want to avenge the person who did the crime, and that is powerful. Love is powerful," I purr slowly, winking at the nearest camera. There are four, five scattered screams from the audience and many dreamy sighs.

"Do you have any advice for Elijah and Lily?"

"These are two underdogs as well. I think that Lily is a real threat with ropes, and her little-girl charm could get her many sponsors. Eli? He's handsome, bulky, and a hell of a runner. I think that he just might have a shot, Caesar. I honestly do."

"Moving along quickly, Finnick, what do you have to say about strong-willed Saffron?"

"Strong will get you very far in the arena, Saffron. Please keep it up, and I just think that you'd be a great match with a scythe."

"Last district- District Twelve. What about Cloe? Any advice or thoughts?"

"God, Cloe's just gorgeous. She could get billions of sponsors. As some advice to her, as a mentor, I'd like to wish her luck and I'd like to ask her to try out more of that archery. She's a wonderful match for it."

Caesar stands up, grinning broadly. I stand as well, making sure that no sparkles had come off of my body. I didn't want to reveal too much.

"Thank you for a wonderful interview, Finnick," says Caesar.

"No problem," I say to him, smiling.

Caesar turns to the Capitol audience and bellows out, "Good night, Panem! And may the odds be ever in YOUR favor! Ha HA!"

A/N: Wowwwww, this took a bit to write. Sad to say, I briefly had writer's block.

Keep voting for tributes if you haven't already! Or tell people to vote, too. Anything goes!

The next chapter will be very interesting. That's all I'm going to say. ; )