-October 29th, Year of the 73rd Hunger Games-

'Ladies and Gentlemen, once again, let's hear it for the Victor of the 73rd Hunger Games – Annalee Braydock!'

The applause from the audience thunders as we leave the stage, Tyga's hand loosely on mine as I help her down the steps, her high heels proving precarious. Even inside the Justice Building, the icy District 12 air has away of wrapping around my body, making me shiver and causing goosebumps to texture my skin.

The Justice building is a firmly built building that looks as if it has been plucked from the Capitol and placed among the shabby streets of the coal District. Despite this, it has not been kept well – the floorboards creek and it doesn't look as though it has been properly cleaned in years. Stella steps lightly along the floor, totally out of place, and looking around with fearful eyes as though she could catch some horrific disease just from the air. She almost trips over a slightly bent floorboard and lets out a shrill squeak.

'Every year I say they should fix that, but do they listen to me? No.' The District 12 escort tuts, walking over to Stella. 'Honestly, it's a death trap.'

'You wouldn't get this in the Capitol. I can assure you of that.' Stella replies, eyeing the floorboard sharply.

'Oh, of course not.' The other Capitol woman replies. 'Incidentally, might I ask where you got your dress from?'

Stella seems startled, before a strong grin stretches across her face. Not a fake smile, a genuine one – one I'm not sure I've seen before. 'It's an original Scarlet Henley,' she says with pride, 'Made specially.'

'How spectacular! I've been meaning to contact Ms. Henley for a while now.'

'Well, absolutely – hers is the absolute must-have collection. You know, one time I was browsing through her boutique and who should come in but Mauritia Topaz! I said I bet I know where you get your ideas from now, you little minx!'

The pair burst into laughter and Tyga appears next to me, gawping at the Capitol women. 'God, there's two of them.'

For a few minutes we just stare at them, taking in their unadulterated Capitolness. They're so content in this world of vanity and luxury. Their life is one of pop culture and celebrity and gossip. I wonder if I would be like this too, had I been brought up in the Capitol instead of District 5. I am only distracted when, from behind me, I smell the stench of alcohol, all too familiar from time spent around Vice. I turn and see Haymitch, the District 12 Victor.

Like so many Victors, he turned to drink. His blond hair is shaggy and uncombed, and is features are rough. Whilst the alcohol on his breath still makes my nose wrinkle, his stance does not suggest he is intoxicated. In fact, he seems quite alert.

'Hello, Connor,' he says, his voice unslurred. He is not drunk. At least, not very.

'Hello, Haymitch,' I reply, 'How are you?'

'Yes, yes, very good,' he says, somewhat distractedly, 'I was wondering, Connor, if I might show you something outside.'

There is something about his voice. Something I can't quite pick up on yet. 'I don't think we're supposed to leave the Justice Build-'

'Yes, I know the rules. Just let me show you something.'

I am suddenly able to detect the underlying tone in his voice. He is trying to take me somewhere private – he wants to tell me something he doesn't want anyone to hear. I nod. He leads the way and Tyga and I begin to follow.

'Sorry, sweetheart,' he says to Tyga, 'men only.'

Tyga scowls at him but does not disobey. She gives me a wary look. 'Don't be long. Stella will flip.'

'Oh for God's sake, he's only going outside,' Haymitch says, rolling his eyes, 'Wow, Connor, you're whipped.'

I say nothing and follow the Victor outside, leaving Tyga in the Justice Building. The wind hits my like an icy wall the second we're out in the open, but Haymitch doesn't seem to notice. He walks outside. There is a slight layer of snow on the ground, making the floor look like one big cobweb, but it's not snowing now so it must have been from earlier. When we reach about 300 metres away from the Justice Building, Haymitch finally turns to me.

'We haven't got long,' he mutters, 'Things are changing, Connor.'

'I'm sorry?'

'The Capitol's not admitting it but the cracks are starting to show.'

'What? What are you talking about, Haymitch?'

He sighs exasperatedly. 'I'm talking about the Capitol. President Snow. All of them. They're not admitting it, but they're having problems. District 7 had an uprising a few months back. It never came to anything, but the Capitol weren't prepared. The rebels were crushed like we expected them to be, but it took much longer than we thought. It was nearly two weeks before they had eradicated all of them, and it wasn't even like the whole District rebelled.'

My hand comes to my forehead. An uprising? Rebelling against the Capitol? I'd never even considered it. The idea of there being a world where the Capitol didn't rule could never be a reality, surely. But...what if it could?

'The world is changing. The people are getting restless, Connor. The Capitol wouldn't be able to fight us all – all twelve Districts. There's no way. All we need is something to set the fire going – a spark.'

I ponder this for a second, the icy wind biting at my skin, me ignoring it. I manage to gather my thoughts into a sentence. 'But none of the Districts ever talk to each other. We can't start something if no one knows about it.'

Haymitch's expression turns dark. 'That's where you come in, Connor.'

His hand dips into his coat pocket and pulls out a small stack of royal blue envelopes. 'I need you to deliver these to the Victors in each District. There is only one for each District so I need you to choose carefully who you give each one to – give it to the person you trust the most. This is very important, Connor – only give it to the person you know you can trust.'

I look through the letters. Each has a hand-written number scribbled on the front of the envelope. I flick through them – 3, 5, 7, 4, 8, 6, 10, 9. I flick through them again, but still don't find what I'm looking for. 'Where are the letters for Districts 1 and 2?'

'We can't trust them,' he replies instantly, 'If I wasn't for Mags, 4 wouldn't be getting one either.'

'But, they have to know.' I say with force, but not volume. 'You can't just plan a rebellion and leave out two whole Districts!'

Rebellion. I'm saying it like it's an actual possibility. Like we could actually be free of the Capitol.

'Connor, District 1 and 2 show their loyalty to the Capitol every year in the Games. They're not just going to turn against them.'

'But they're under the same oppression as us, right? What about Miami? Or the other Victors? They have a right to know!'

'Fine, Connor!' he says, his voice harsh and venomous, still in a hushed tone so no one overhears. 'You tell them about it if you want! But, I'm telling you now that you don't want to make an enemy out of me. This rebellion is going to happen – maybe not this year, maybe not next, but soon, and you don't want to be making enemies before the war's even begun. If we're going to win this thing, we have to work together.'

'As long as working together doesn't involve the Districts you don't like, right?'

Haymitch pushes his face close to mine, eyes narrow. 'Don't try to make this about me, Connor,' he spits, 'Believe me, if it was down to me, I wouldn't be giving you these letters. I'm certain Tyga would do a better job, but Seeder trusts your judgement. She said you were an exceptional judge of character. God knows why.'

That sparks something in my mind. I flick back through the envelopes. 'Where's District 11's? Decided you didn't like them either?'

'District 11 are strongly tied to this project. The Victors from 11 and I have been masterminding the initial stages of this plan, and Seeder said you were the right person to give the envelopes to. So, that's what I did. Problem?' I don't reply. 'As much as you think I'm doing this for me, Connor, I'm not. Every decision we make, we make based on what will give this rebellion the highest chance of success.'

I go quiet for a minute. This is ridiculous. There won't be a rebellion. That's just an idea – something that possibly could happen in our minds, but it will never come of anything. Yet, I can't fault the logic. We have the manpower – we could do this. No, of course we couldn't. That's ridiculous. 'We can't do this.' I say.

'That's not your decision to make.' Haymitch replies plainly. 'Take the letters. Let the Victors know. And, as much as it sickens me to say it, I'm counting on you, Connor.'

He turns to walk away, before pausing and turning on his heel, his face looking back at me. 'Oh, and make sure that everyone – including you – realises how serious I am with what I wrote on the backs of the envelopes.' He turns again and walks away, as snow starts to softly fall.

I turn one of the blue envelopes over in my hand. Along the seal, in scribbled black ink, it says: Open only when you are prepared to die for the cause.

I stare at the words for a few seconds, before slotting the envelopes into my pocket, and following Haymitch back inside.

A/N: So, there we go! Here we can start to see the rebellion forming, which will obviously be the main plotline of this final section (and don't worry I won't make it all 'Katniss wasn't actually the spark, it was Connor' because I now how cheesy that is). So, please PLEASE review! I'd love to know what you think and where you'd like this story to go. Thanks for reading and reviewing and I shall see you next week! :)