Back again! Ha ha, I'm surprised how I'm miraculously managing to have a social life and churn out these chapters like some weird robot; you know what, I blame (or maybe thank, undecided on that front) insomnia. But enough about me and my atypically boring life.

Oh I've taken some liberties with Seneca Crane, we've seen him in the film but his appearance was never really specified in the books so I just made it up a little bit ;) Oh and as for the science bits, despite getting an A* at GCSE I am genuinely 'scientifically challenged' but I've tried and since I was writing this on a train without Wi-Fi the internet wasn't available for research purposes and I couldn't be bothered to use my phone... :S

On with the drama...

Seneca Crane, Head Gamemaker.

I look around the sterile control room, the blindingly white walls and the holographic representation of this year's arena. I run my hand through my midnight blue hair, damn me for my raging ambition and outright stupidity. Why? A monosyllabic word which in the Capitol has no real relevance, why do we need a reason to do anything? But that simple word has been plaguing my every waking thought: Why did I accept the role of Head Gamemaker? Anyone with a shred of intelligence knows that a grim fate awaits anyone in that position who does not live up to President Snow's stupendously high expectations, and with this as my first year I know I need to make an impression, I need to be responsible for the greatest ever games. But how on Earth can I do that? The Capitol expects a bloodbath, a spectacle of violence whereas the President wants the tributes to undergo a mental deterioration. What can I do? If I don't do as the President wishes I will not live to see the 63rd Hunger Games but the same still stands if I don't impress the Capitol; it would be so much simpler if I were to die now, it would rid me of the anxious knot that has taken residence in my stomach since my 'little chat' with Snow. I scoff, how much easier it would be if it was just a little chat. I think it is strangely humorous that the districts seem to think that we Capitolites live in a bubble of safety, if only that were the case I would sleep soundly at night, because if these games don't live up to the mark then I am as surely dead as 23 of the tributes who will enter the arena in 3 days time.

I slope over to the main system and enter the security code, a map of the arena appears on the screen as do an inventory of the mutts we currently have in development; I foresee another sleepless night so I may as well spend all of my energy in trying to create the perfection that everyone seems to be expecting in regards to the arena. The landscape though picturesque is the classic 'Black Widow', exotic and beautiful but laced in a multitude of deadly traps; the second level appears: Sterile and barren, an open arena that appears more dangerous and will allow for the violent show the viewers so desperately crave but the catch is that a lot of 'rewards' are to be found if the tributes are willing to take the risk. My hand flies across the keyboard as I make small amendments, adjust camera angles. The one salvation of my role is that I am the one to create the playground where all the tributes are to play, to develop new ideas and work along the greatest scientific minds that Panem has to offer. As I'm studying a promising design of a plant that, in theory of course, secretes a pollen that is meant to interfere with the neuron pathways which should consequently cause an over activity in the region of the brain that focuses on emotions: Namely fear, whilst also acting as a hallucinogenic. I transfer the file to Crimson Hardwick, the Head of Development, with a quick note to tell her to prioritise this project. I move onto the next catalogued mutt before I am rudely interrupted by a brisk knock at the door, my focus shatters as every muscle tenses and I explode.

"I have explicitly ordered that I am to not be disturbed. Are you seriously so mentally incompetent that you cannot comprehend a simple request?" I exhale loudly, I regret the outburst and I know that a lot of the staff I'm working alongside me probably resent me for my new snappish attitude in the workplace but if they knew what position I was in then they would most definitely be pitying me. Not gossiping about me while they lurk in corners thinking I cannot hear their scornful remarks. Well I genuinely apologise for me being more concerned that I live to see the next New Year than pleasing my work colleagues by smiling foolishly; I lean back in my chair and rub my temples to try and delay the onset of a migraine, now is not the time to relax. Now is not the time to be wasting time with headaches, it is the time to work. I click on the next potential project when I hear someone clear their throat. I simply cannot comprehend as to why people cannot understand and execute simple instructions, my staff are to be considered as the intellectual elite that the Capitol has to offer; You'd be surprised how obtuse some people can be, I am seriously considering purchasing a 'Do Not Disturb' sign.

"I must admit that you are the first person to ever question my mental competence, but Mr Crane: The reason I'm here is not to gather your thoughts on my intelligence but to see how you're doing in response to our little discussion." Dread. Fear. That is a voice that anyone who inhabits Panem knows, a voice that stabs the icy cold knife of terror into everybody's chest. President Coriolanus Snow, my outburst could seriously cost me my life but then I can breathe again; The President may be a vindictive snake but he isn't rash and he would never sabotage the Hunger Games by murdering the Head Gamemaker so near to when that gong rings. So I get to live another day at least, but as I turn in my chair and my eyes meet his I know that I am the prey while he is the snake with his venomous fangs bared and poised to strike. I open my mouth, apologies ready to spill from my lips and ready to fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness but before I can even open my mouth Snow raises his hand. A clear request for silence and seeing the malicious glint in his cold grey eyes I know it is not in my best interest to question his authority.

"I did not come here to hear you grovelling, I came here to talk and you are here to listen. I am not one to beat around the bush; I just want to let you know that so far I am pleased with your progress although I think you will have to make everything even better if you are to truly make these games truly spectacular. You were chosen above all other candidates for this position Seneca, and I will be extremely disappointed if you do not live up to my expectations and I must stress that I am not fond of being disappointed. In fact it makes me rather angry. So I suggest you turn to the likes of Hardwick and Heavansbee to help you, I wouldn't want you drowning in work after all." I nod along with what he is saying although it is almost impossible to keep the look of disbelief off of my face; he doesn't like to 'beat around the bush'? If he was all about being upfront then he would've just outright threatened me, instead he's implied it in such a way that I will spend the remainder of the night pondering his words. All the more time to work on the arena, I wait with bated breath as he turns to walk away and as he nears the door I can't stifle the sigh of relief that escapes me. I lean back in my chair, sagging in relief until the muted menace of his voice echoes throughout the room.

"Oh and Crane, I am most intrigued to see as how you will deal with the situations that arose in training today. You know how delicate the whole infrastructure of Panem is at the moment; although I think it wise to allow people to know of mounting tensions between 8 and 9. Creating animosity between the districts would be beneficial seeing as the tributes are all about district unity from what I know. But those two tributes must be punished for the debacle they have caused, they are well aware of what the Capitol expects of its tributes and by not meeting these expectations they are making a mockery of their Capitol: And that cannot be accepted." I'd ensured that every Gamemaker present kept their mouths firmly shut to make sure no one heard about what happened at the Training Centre, but alas nothing slips past our omniscient President, the snake in the grass that knows everything about everything and everyone. Once again I find myself on edge, anticipating that by the end of this whole ordeal I will probably be admitted to an asylum but as of right now I am of sound mind. I know that Snow was giving me very clear instructions although he was only here fleetingly: Punish the boy from 8 and girl from 9, and start a rumour about the conflict while keeping hush about the round of applause that the Spinoza boy received and then to collaborate with Hardwick and Heavansbee to create the ultimate arena of mental torment. To me that seems like an exceptionally long list, and not for the first time as of late it seems that once again Seneca Crane is in for another long night. I decide to begin with my contribution to the Capitol's rumour mill. I find the number, which I had conveniently stuffed in the back of my calling log, before hitting the dial button.

"Seneca, to what do I owe the pleasure?" I bite my tongue when I hear the trademark sarcasm, and with her nasally voice I have the sudden urge to smack my head against my desk repeatedly. Oh Hortensia, ever the charmer but also the biggest gossip to ever grace the streets of Panem. Even though most of what she says is utter nonsense, everyone believes her elaborate lies and without her there is no doubt that the rumour mill would vanish from the face of the Earth. Deep breaths, it always helps to be calm when dealing with my estranged, and soon to be ex, wife. Especially when I need a favour seeing as she is the most infuriating woman to ever breathe and I have no doubts that she would rather bathe in acid than do anything to help me. Unless it is about one of her favourite things: Style, Wealth or Gossip, that feed her insatiable appetite as an attention whore.

"Sia, when I have some rather fascinating news for you..."

Leonardo Wence, District 3.

As a citizen of District 3 I am seen as possessing above average intelligence, and it is true to a certain degree. I may not be a genius but I can still recognise the significance of the Hunger Games; when people are reaped they instantly assume their death and in a vast majority of the cases this is fact. But I don't think anyone realises when the games transform from a nightmare into actual reality, a reality when every tick of the clock could be counting down until your heart stops beating and you die. A reality in which your inner flame is slowly starved of oxygen until it ceases to exist. So far the Hunger Games have been but a far off dream, a manifestation of my denial that I have been placed in a situation where I will be slaughtered like a farm animal, with the hectic schedule in terms of the train rides and then the 'make over' process with waxing in places I'd never imagined being waxed. It was all so surreal, like an out of body experience and I think I was unable to process anything and then with the glitz and glamour of the Chariot Rides: I just couldn't imagine being placed into an arena where I am to fight for my life when I'm waving at the people who are cheering for my immediate demise.

But now I have been brought back to Earth, and now I am but an ember; burning but paling in comparison to the others. I will be nothing but a candle in the wind. Never will the fire within me reach its full potential and engulf the world in its burning passion or comforting warmth. I will never be the supernova that burns the brightest; I will be just another Hunger Games statistic. A flame that disappears, totally forgotten by everyone. Although I've lived my life living up to everyone's expectations as the respectful young man who is content to fade into the background while nursing my curious obsession, I've always wanted to be something else. Something more than what people expect of me but that opportunity is slipping through my fingers, and that thought burns through my every vein. It was training that changed it all; when I saw what some of the others could do it made my affinity for fire seem like nothing more than a parlour trick; and even amongst those that were not trained killers like the careers they were physically imposing. I am the 'Sewer Rat' of district 3 with my scrawny frame and shaggy brown hair, most of the other male tributes and a fair share of the girls could overpower me rather easily.

It is times like this that I condemn my stupidly high levels of logic, I may have a vivid imagination but my understanding of basic scientific principles prevents me from escaping into a wonderland where I could go to sleep and wake up back home where the Hunger Games are nothing but are just a grim memory of the past. Both the concept of time travel and the laws of physics prevent this happening in a solely scientific element, but then the political climate of Panem must be taken into consideration. Frankly why would the Capitol ever abolish the Hunger Games? Their tool which enables them to both oppress and control the districts, they are the chains that bind us. If I were in their position I wouldn't even consider the idea of ridding Panem of the Hunger Games. So since I can't escape in some elaborate fantasy, I do the next best thing and throw myself onto the luxurious silk sheets and wait for sleep to take me and to escape into my dreams where I revisit the burning building. My greatest achievement to date, the most concentrated fix for my morbid addiction and most possibly the greatest achievement I will ever obtain.

I've scrunched my eyes shut as I struggle to clear my mind, but any chance of relaxation disappears when I hear a brisk knock of my door. Although I'd love to tell whoever it is out there to just go away and give me some semblance of peace but my manners are far too ingrained for me to blatantly ignore whoever it is but I don't have much of a choice in the matter as the door creaks open. Greer slides into the room with a small smile on her lips, her strawberry blonde hair pinned back and her pale green almond eyes wide with worry; I grin back at her and she takes it as an invitation to waltz over and sit on the end of my bed. I sit up and shuffle down the bed so we're sitting next to one another, she nudges me and I shake my head before giving her our 'customary' hug of greeting; she leans on my shoulder and I rub her back before she pushes back to hold me at arms length. Her pale green eyes burn into my own muddy brown eyes and I look down as I realise the 'look'. The look that says 'Yes, I am analyzing you so don't try and hide a thing', I sigh and look up to see Greer's worry has multiplied tenfold.

"Leo, where were you at dinner? You've been hiding in your room since we got back from training, has anything happened? Have I done something?" The first thought I register is complete and utter shock, maybe a little exasperation. Despite Greer's impeccable intelligence in regards to anything scholarly, she can be incredibly dim especially in social situations although it is a rather endearing quality in a friend; I just shake my head when I see Greer's eyes widen imploringly. Another tick of hers is an incessant need to know everything, what causes something to happen: I think it is her inner scientist.

"I'm completely fine, nothing has happened and of course you haven't done anything. You are the only person that makes being here tolerable, however mundane it sounds I really wasn't hungry." Only part of it was a lie, Greer is the only redeeming factor in what has become my poor excuse for a life since being reaped. Both of us ready to set the world alight, but I should have known that she is almost as apt at reading people as she is when tinkering with things or reading a book. Her eyes narrow, an accusation burning brightly and a small sigh escapes my lips. Damn her for being a human lie detector, as efficient as the technology she tinkers with back home in District 3. A few moments pass, being the respectful man I am I recognise she is allowing me to tell the truth but Greer is my friend; I don't have to hide behind the facade I've carefully constructed over years.

"Leo, I think you forget that I may know about your 'double life' but nobody else is clued in. And you Leo are anything but careless, the reason I know that something is wrong is because to everybody else you are the meek yet unquestionably respectful. Social etiquette dictates you should have been at dinner, it was what is expected and even if you weren't hungry I assumed you would have been there in order to keep up appearances. If it is a private matter than you don't need to tell me but please remember that all friendships are based on trust, admittedly we aren't in the best situation for forming friendships but you are my friend Leo and I want to help you if I can." Greer is rubbing my arm and however simple the gesture is I find myself smiling at her attempt to comfort me, pushing the sleeve back to show the silvery scars that are testament to my fascination of playing with fire; she knows as much about me as anyone even though I've known her for days but I know that we are truly friends. My exasperation has returned though at how easily Greer broke me down and managed to analyse the situation in a way which is both scientific in approach, inspecting every component before drawing a conclusion, but also with an undertone of compassion that shows me that she truly cares.

"It's just that we're about to go into the Hunger Games Greer. In a matter of days we could both be dead, and what have we ever achieved? No matter how much we plan, how much we do we cannot win. This isn't an experiment G, there is no method and outcome. The Hunger Games is not a science, against a career what are we meant to do Greer?" My shoulders slump forward in defeat, every little thought that has been buzzing around my head like an annoying bug that has been splattered on my windscreen of life. Saying it aloud has brought every ounce of frustration bubbling to the surface, made me look into a metaphorical mirror and see my powerless reflection; I look back at Greer to see her eyes soft and her mouth turned down at the corners.

"I know Leo, life isn't a scientific experiment however much easier that would be than facing reality but you need to look at this situation from a stance that is logical and objective; we both have a 1 in 24 chance of survival and if we survive the initial bloodbath our chances will continue to rise as each tribute falls. Yes we may not be trained in combat, but both of our minds if applied correctly are as dangerous as a sword. Unlike everyone else, we know the games have already begun; we are studying our environment. Yes, there are extraneous variables that will come into effect but if we study enough we should be able to alter any plans made in order to suit the situation." Greer's outlook is comforting, everything she has said is fact but this isn't going to be as straightforward; I'd love to believe this, to know that we have a plan that could save our lives. I try and smile but I just can't, it seems futile. Yes District 3 has a few Victors but if you divide the number of Victors by 62 you will find that the number is stupidly low, especially when compared with other districts.

"Your plan sounds ideologically sound, but that is it. Can it work in practice? How are we meant to defeat the likes of that boy from 4, did you see him throw that spear? What have we learnt that will be helpful? Because so far all that I've learnt is how to set a few basic snares and how to camouflage myself as a tree." I know I sound like a petulant child but I have to face the possibility that my fire will be extinguished in a matter of days and not being able to do anything makes me feel like a child. Greer doesn't look sad as I had expected; instead she looks thoughtful as if deliberating how she should phrase something.

"Leo, as you know 'Brains beat Brawn' is my greatest philosophy and never under estimate knowledge as a weapon. You see it as only setting traps but part of science is developing something or altering its original purpose, for example: Yes, you have learnt to set a snare but have you considered incorporating other elements to create an original yet lethal compound. Using a conductive material for the snare will allow for it to become an electronically charged, or even incorporate your beloved fire to make what may appear as a simple snare into a fatal contraption. Plus, the point of training is not only to gain a new set of skills; it is also parallel to the observation phase of an experiment: Seeing how the components, although in this case the components are actually us tributes, react around one another and their individual qualities and how they can be neutralised similarly to acids and alkaline substances. Using Kai for example, when throwing he favours his left legs for weight baring; damage, however small inflicted to this limb would have detrimental effects upon his throw." I am shocked, seeing as Greer seems to pursue perfection in every way shape or form she seems to be able to look beyond the realms of normality in a way that is both realistic and resourceful. Looking at it like that makes me feel more prepared than before and I feel my inner flame flicker as confidence burns through my body. Greer raises her eyebrow and winks, as always she is able to soothe my nerves and make that inner fire flare to life. I smile back and she seems to smile in what I think is relief and I think I understand why in her unique way: Our alliance is like an isotope, these chemical bonds can only ever be as strong as the weakest element. For this alliance to be the raging inferno I know it could be, a formidable flame: We both need to be as strong and committed as one another.

"Well I can see that I've done as much as I can in order to ease your nervous state. I hope that you are feeling better in time for training tomorrow; I have made contact with another tribute who may be interested in an alliance so we'll need to talk about that a bit later. But before I go, I think I may have something you could do tomorrow which would not only be incredibly informative but give you a fix in regards to your unhealthy obsession." A cheeky grin makes its way onto her face and I admit it I'm intrigued; I am from District 3 after all and once my curiosity is peaked I need to know. She grins and makes her way from the room, but before she exits she turns to the desk and straightens a number of papers and ensures all writing utensils are positioned to the left of the notepad making me roll my eyes; still obsessing over perfection. As the door closes her melodic voice drifts into the room, adding fuel to the fire.

"Tomorrow Leo, you get to play with explosives..."

Rosalinde Snow, Capitol Citizen.

Ever since the clandestine meeting I have been walking on cloud nine, my mood so bright that I have been able to tolerate the snake's presence without wanting to scream in frustration and rip my hair from my head. This perfumed thorn is coming to bloom, rebellion truly is like a flower it needs to be nurtured and pruned; and as of late I have been able to ingrain a strong set of roots. No longer are my musings of rebellion a distant daydream, forever banished into the realm of fruitlessness. No, the wheels of change are slowly beginning to turn and despite my father's best intentions he himself is allowing this rose to grow and soon he will be trapped between the thorns.

The display of unity between the districts tells me that the time is now; no longer will the districts of Panem stand divided beneath the oppressive dictatorship of the Capitol and its bastard President; when they rise up as one the tyranny of Coriolanus Snow will burn until its ashes blow through the streets of Panem. A united land, a land that lives without the atrocity that is the Hunger Games. No longer do I stand alone, allies are behind me; The Victors, adored by both the districts and the Capitol; Gamemakers; Advisors to my father but there are two more allies I need at my side before the fire can be lit. This is very fire that will burn Panem as we know it to the ground. Allow the phoenix of a new day and a brighter future to rise from the ashes. These much coveted allies are District 13 and their elusive President Alma Coin who I will be meeting to after the completion of this year's Hunger Games, to renegotiate the long standing treaty between the District who specialises in nuclear weaponry and my father. But once again Daddy thinks too much of me, by sending me to District 13 he has practically put a dagger in my hand and I will have no reservations about sticking it in his back.

The second ally is holding two things that are very important in the grand scheme of things; but it will most certainly be the most difficult task I'll face before we enter a state of warfare. The person is Archimedes Holden, Head of National Security: Cruel, vindictive and most possibly the man I hate most on this God forsaken planet. He is loyal to my father, basks in the violent spectacle of the Hunger Games and what makes it all so much more dramatic and consequently difficult: My much loathed Mr Holden is none other than the father to my beautiful baby girl, but I've come too far to let this little detail become a serious obstacle. In fact I'm looking forward to this; nothing would please me more than going toe to toe with this maleficent bastard once again. As they say we have history and as they say history is always told by the winners. I'll be the one telling the story, and I'll have both artefacts in my possession and my father and sperm donor will be none the wiser. This is a man's world, don't make me laugh; Men are the ones who sit on the throne but everyone knows that it is the women who have the control.

I stare at my reflection, not marred by those preposterous alterations the Capitol puppets favour despite my father's wishes, the golden blonde hair twisted in an elegant knot at the nape of my neck. Sleek and shining under the dull lights of my bedroom; my full lips painted a pale shade of rosy pink and icy blue eyes glittering beneath the layers of mascara and pastel pink eye shadow. I apply the rouge sparingly and grin at my reflection, sending a silent prayer that men think with only one part of their body and although it usually annoys me, in this instance I'm glad that the part is not their brain. I turn to leave; it is very uncouth for a woman to arrive late for a dinner date even if the man is nothing short of the bane of your existence and as a representative of the Presidential family, I am anything but uncouth. I

As I leave, I reflect on when me and my father would stand off over a chess board when I was younger; a tableaux of the power struggle, the battle of wills that has been raging since I realised that my father is nothing but an arrogant fool. Oh Daddy Dearest, we're still trapped on either side of that table but I've just made my move: Check, bastard. It's your move now, let's see how you slither your way out of this one you disgusting snake. I grab my ornate clutch bag and slam the door of my penthouse apartment. Oh Daddy, these games have begun: Panem is our arena and I've just gotten to the Cornucopia while you are dilly dallying on that little plate but you need to make your move quickly before you're blown into oblivion however appealing that may sound.

Phewww, I'm glad that is over...

Who do you think is the tribute interested in allying with our pyromaniac and obsessive genius? Let me know those thoughts.

On with training next chapter, now let me say... The wait for this chapter was not my fault, blame my boyfriend. How dare he whisk me away on a spontaneous trip to Italy? ;) Gotta love him...

REVIEW!

Oh and I have decided that I WILL be writing a sequel, solely because I find that my plans in terms of the rebellion sub plot will take up a lot of time so I am now here asking for tributes... because I will be introducing the new tributes throughout this story. If you're interested let me know through PM! (And I'll forward you my tribute form.) PLEASE submit ;)

So send me some interesting tributes! :D Earlier you get them sent in; the earlier I'll be able to introduce them...And I do have plans for them already :D Make them weird and wonderful, because I will be being picky... accepting only who I think will benefit the story!