I'm going to be blatantly honest here guys; I had a shitty week, which may explain the gap between updating.

Gamemaker PJ

"Ember!" I called. My fingers drummed aimlessly on the keyboard. Boredom, if you couldn't tell, was devouring my soul. Soon, I was to be a mere carcass, empty of emotion. "Ember! Eeeeember! Em. Ber. Ember…."

The girl slammed the mug down on my desk. Hot chocolate spilt over the rim and dribbled down the sides leaving shining streaks against the ceramic surface. I raised an eyebrow at the liquid. It was still steaming.

"No, no," I said. "This chocolate will certainly not scald me. Just slam it down wherever you please without consideration of the Gamemaker who has the ability to ruin your life." I leaned my chin into my palms, smirking sidelong at her. A forced smile stretched painstakingly across her face. Wow, she had braces? Not just normal braces, no, but diamond encrusted ones. You don't notice them until you really look at the person. But looking at people? While you're organizing the Mutant Games? Ha, you humor me.

"Oh, my mistake," she said. Huh, it was a tossup. I wasn't sure, but the tone could have been either frighteningly nervous or overly sarcastic. I resisted the urge to stroke my chin ponderously.

Ember pulled a handkerchief from her dress's skirt and wiped the minor spill up. I nodded approvingly, taking a sip once she had placed it back down. Oh, this was a good mix. I inhaled the scent of cocoa deeply through my nose, reclining in my chair. Ember stood with her hands neatly folded before her and resting on her dress, heels together, and standing with ladylike poise. It brought a snicker out of me.

"So what do you think?" I asked. Ember cocked her head off to the side. Curls cascaded off her shoulders and rebounded momentarily like Slinkys. How the hell did that come to mind? "The whole Gamemaking process. What do you think of it?" I gestured ambiguously at the room around us.

She nodded as she strung together the words. "It's a lot different from what I imagined."

I chuckled. "Be honest. I can handle it, intern"

Ember pursed her ruby red lips and fidgeted with her glasses. "I expected…this sounds childish, but I was imagining something magical and extravagant and there'd be secret codes and massive screens with little replicas of the arena and blue prints of this or that. The Gamemakers are, like, only one level below the President, too, and I didn't anticipate them to be like, you know, normal people. My parents used to tell me these stories of the Gamemakers and how cunning and intelligent they are. Most of the people I see around here are only ever good at button pressing." She rose her hands up defensively. "It's still fascinating, just in a way that's the total opposite from my expectations."

I tapped my pen against my chin while she spoke. Ember clamped her mouth shut, worried she had said the wrong thing, once she was finished.

"How did you expect me to be like?"

Ember cringed and said, "Uh, I thought of someone who was more aloof and mysterious and wise."

"Ah," I grinned. "And you've kept to my advice?"

"The tidbits I could understand," she admitted. She wrapped a curl around her finger and blinked innocently over the edge of her glasses.

"You haven't gotten in anyone's pants? You do know that those are just empty promises. If anyone, you'd need to get in my pants and, sorry, you're too frilly for me."

The intern wrinkled her nose and took a step away from me. "Gosh, no. I have a fiancé in the Capitol Forces and I would never want to ruin it for an affair so petty. And no offense to the guys who work here but ew." A shudder traveled down the length of her back, causing her skirt to rustle. "Most of them keep giving me bizarre looks and it's starting to get incredibly disturbing. Some actually did suggest such means. I was too embarrassed to respond, my face was burning bright red. It's why I come in so early."

"And I thank you for that." I raised my cup in toast to her. My free hand rested on the freshly organized paperwork, drumming my fingers on the manila envelopes and fancy embroidered folders. Ember bit her bottom lip and clicked her heels together innocently. I viewed her critically, from her neat, unnaturally blonde hair to her shimmering, glitter covered red shoes. I took a sip from my mug and smacked my lips, tasting the chocolate remnants. She was somewhere in her late teens to early twenties. Across her nose, she had freckles in the form of miniscule gemstones that twinkled in the light of the computer monitors and only added furthermore to her overall look of innocence.

"I'd like to say, I don't ask to be nice," I said. "Hell, when am I ever 'nice'? I say all this because the moment I find out someone is bending my intern to their will, all parties involved will be fired or excommunicated or however you say it. Including the intern. And, frankly, a lot of people will be feeling my wrath because, when I lose my intern, I lose the indentured servant who fetches me hot chocolate. If I need to get my own hot chocolate, well, we're going to be having problems here." Ember stared at me dumbfound, mouth hanging open a fraction of an inch. Upon realizing how dopey she looked, she snapped it shut. The teeth clicked together with an audible click that carried in the room.

I zoomed in on action occurring in the arena, nodding approvingly. My mouth twisted downwards a second later. Why was the rain slowing? It's supposed to keep going! It's supposed to get worse. I shook my head and pressed my finger on the intercom button.

"Boys, rain!" I barked. For all I cared, it was a woman on the other end. It was easier to yell at guys, however. Did I need to explain why? Most of the Gamemakers were men any way, which could explain why my rain was not at a sufficient magnitude and more strictly why I was prepared to go tear into one of these douchebags. I toggled between cameras, feeling my mounting exasperation and anger. "And where's the Retrievers? I told you to launch those two hours ago! And that grass isn't going to strangle people on its own." I growled and pounded my fist against the speaker. My concentration was so rattled I left a dent in the metal screening. Ember gasped and, glancing over my shoulder, I spotted her slender hand cover her mouth. I smirked but once my head was turned back to the speaker, I pursed my lips sheepishly. It popped back to shape once I pressed my palm to the metal. There was the moment my glove melded to the device and I couldn't yank it free. I instead resorted to pretending that was exactly what I had planned to do, tearing my hand from my metal restraints. I frowned. It was my favorite metal glove. It took me forever to construct.

Seizing my mug, I hopped to my feet and strolled out my office, only pausing for the door to slide open. Ember's heels clicked with each step on the tile floor, bound to strike one of my nerves somewhere on this journey. I had a finger readied (no, it was the one meant for pointing) but I saw she was carrying all my paperwork. Having her as human pack mule, I figured, would be helpful since it'd be easiest to slap the lackeys with it. Gamemakers? They were more button pushers if anything.

It was a shock they didn't trip over their stupid purple robes which they insisted on wearing daily. Try spending a few hours of your day in a room full of grown men who bathe in cologne in an attempt to mask the scent of body odor. Trust me. You don't want to. Let's say, if you were that one individual in the world who'd willingly commit themselves to such a torture, you better be making a whole lot of money off a bet. And I mean a lot of money.

It took an elevator trip, some side doors, one voice analyzer, and the threatening of a guard to arrive to the official Gamemaker's room. I avoid it at all costs and do as much work as I possibly can from my own little office. They did little work in actually providing towards the Games as a whole. I was perfectly fine with that. Give them the idea they are worthy and important. Let them go out and bathe in the glory and honor affirmed onto them by adoring audiences and TV personalities. As long as my Games turn out the way they are planned, I was happy. When Gamemaker PJ wasn't happy, well, no one was going to be happy.

I stood before the double doors and the sweat dripping from my hair line nearly sizzled as my face burned angrily. Beyond this barrier, I heard laughter. Not the busy typing of keys, not the mumbled arguing over a detail to alter or camera angle to adjust, not the minor scraping of a chair leg along the floor. I heard laughter. Laughter? In my Gamemaking room?

I flexed my wrists, stretching my fingers wide to push the doors open. Upon entrance, an object flew through the room, colliding with my forehead. It barely made a sound, even less of a one as it rolled across the floor. Everyone went silent immediately. The few who continued their laughter had their backs turned to me and their company swiftly slapped their shoulders. Only when they began to argue did they notice the uneasy faces around them and spun to gaze blankly at me, like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

They were scattered about the room. Some were standing, while others propped themselves haphazardly against large machines and on the main table. Glasses, all either filled to the top or with a few remaining drops (none exactly empty), were sitting in places that would result in sparks flying and machines malfunctioning if even one hand tipped them too far over.

The cork that had hit me rolled all the way to feet of the closest Gamemaker. I'm surprised I hadn't leapt forward, grabbed the so-called man by the collar and screamed bloody murder at him. I crossed my arms and dug my fingers into the fleshy part of my bicep, every ounce of anger pouring from my fingertips. The morons before me were still gaping, all except the leader of all the morons. I regretted the day I approved him of moving up to Gamemaker rank.

"I'd ask what we were all doing here," I said to no one in particular, all the while my eyes drilling into Drake. "But it seems it's all self-explanatory."

Drake scowled angrily back at me, his large brown eyes unable to completely mask his shakiness from me. His confidence had grown incredibly, I must admit. He was harder to hold down under my thumb. One day, it was bound to screw me over.

That was why I had to end it soon before he slipped from my control and made an idiot of himself.

Made an idiot of me for allowing an incompetent fool such as him to work amongst those held in the highest regard and power.

"We were celebrating, PJ," he said, carelessly tossing an arm around his Gamemaker companions closest in proximity. "Being a Gamemaker is no easy feat, as you'd know."

"I've been told as much," I said sarcastically. I snapped my fingers which brought the group's attention back to me. Many of their eyes had begun to trail over to Ember beside me. She ducked shyly behind the stack piled high in her arms, hopeful to avoid their ogling stares. I rolled my eyes.

"Everyone, listen up and listen well because if this doesn't process in the dense noggin you all share, then surely some of you will begin to miss the light of day." I sipped my hot chocolate and scowled down into the surface of the drink, dissolved marshmallows floating on the top. It was no longer hot, just vaguely warm. I added it atop of Ember's load, not quite caring if she dropped it. "I know all of you are super excited about being Gamemakers and all and just adore the purple robes. I mean, who wouldn't? It's just so cozy and the fabric is perfect for cuddling and who wouldn't screw a guy in a purple robe. But sadly enough, a certain amount of work is involved while wearing the robe. You all actually have to make the Games if you want to Games to be a success after all, am I right? Hence the word 'Gamemaker'."

I scanned the group, resting my eyes on Drake again. "Yet, you are celebrating. Celebrating before you have even finished your job. Wouldn't that jinx future events? Jinx everything I have worked so meticulously to do? I say that's rather unfair to me."

The Gamemakers shifted uncomfortably on their feet, weight swaying from one side to the other. "And, while all of you are celebrating, my Games are beginning to crumble as you conveniently forget to release and activate the mutations and traps and other oddities I have marked as imperative to the Mutant Games as a whole. So allow me to say it now as I have this all laid out on the table for you; if you as much as let loose a specimen a second late, I will send you into the Games myself and say you are vicious monsters that will kill you if you don't kill it. Who knows what will become of you?" I cracked my knuckles. "Clear?"

All eyes gazed at me wide. My voice increased in volume as I shouted, "I said am I clear?!"

Everyone quickly nodded in consent. It was who chose to Drake stared me down, to question my authority. I had taught him a lot during his time as intern, but had also inadvertently taught him how to rebel; the exact opposite of what the Capitol stands for. It was the battle of wills now. Whose was stronger? Who would give out first?

Drake tore his eyes away. "Crystal."

I smirked. "Good. Now," I gestured broadly, "I will be back in five-no, I'm feeling generous, make that ten-minutes for you all to be working. I don't care on what. Take a file and start working on that," I stuck a thumb over my shoulder at Ember, "and get some lightning going. Don't electrocute the tributes, though. That'll ruin the fun."

They all were frozen in place, gaping stupidly at Ember. Finally, I threw my hands up and, after taking my mug safely off the stack, shoved all the papers to the floor. My intern let loose a tiny screech as she watched her organization flutter away.

"Don't just stand there," I barked, sipping my cocoa. "Get going!"

Spinning on my heel, I marched from the room. Ember's heels clicked behind me, traveling twice as fast to keep up with my long strides. Rounding a corner, I stopped and the intern almost collided with me. She quickly fixed herself, smoothing her skirt and straightening her curls. I drank my chocolate and enjoyed her being momentarily disordered. Lipstick smeared her diamond braces.

"Was that the smartest idea?" she panted. I shrugged, leaning back on a wall. The bemused smirk couldn't help but come across my face. "They'll be like chickens with their heads cut off."

"But they'll do their work." I continued moving back to my office once again, however, at a much slower pace. Ember wasn't weighed down by the files, either, and matched my long strides with faster, shorter ones. "Do I care in what kind of matter it happens?"

"I'd say no," she sighed. It made me chuckle. "But if you want them to do their work, maybe you should be nicer."

"Nicer?" I scoffed. "You humor me, doll face. If I were nicer, they'd walk all over me."

Ember pursed her bow shaped lips. "My fiancé is a very nice man. He's of high rank in the Capitol Forces and the men always hold him in high-"

"That's the thing," I said. "He is a very nice man. I am not."

Ember blinked rapidly before it processed on what I was getting at. "Isn't that, like, so last millennium? Or the one before that?"

I laughed grimly. "Or so you'd think. But some people-some men-have not changed their way of seeing the world. Surely, most of the Capitol respect my actions and are blind to what gender I am. Most don't even know," I added with a wink, running my hand over my short hair. "But then there are those who actually work with you and know how you are. They see that you are different, that you cannot be controlled like most and instead see you as a freak of nature."

The intern looked stunned. We were in the elevator up to my office when she finally spoke. "But…doesn't that make you worse than they are?" I raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, but…you can't judge people on some idea in your head."

"Judge people? I am saying what they truly are! Pigs that wallow in their own filth and still think themselves rich. They're greedy and power hungry. Why, if I weren't in charge, who would be? Where would we be? I can't imagine the victims they'd have left in their wake." I took Ember by her shoulders. With the few additional inches from her heals, she still only reached my nose. "We need more women in this field. Strong, independent women. I see you have the potential but you're not seeing what is so obviously before you! We need girls like you to take the positions important to Panem."

Ember, I found, was an interesting being. She always gave the impression she was soft-spoken and naïve and eager to please. But that, I saw now, was very much a façade she put on for me. Her fists balled up and she looked me hard in the eye.

"Did you have some sort of Daddy issues when you were younger or something?"

Ouch. That was a good one. Nicked at those little chords leading to my heart.

"Perhaps," I admitted. I shoved my mug into her hands. The small respect I had for her was gone now. She'd have to work long and hard to earn it back. And after Drake, I don't think such a troublesome intern would make for a Gamemaker. "Now get me a new cup of cocoa. And I don't want to see your face in my office until you burn your hands by touching the outside."

I stepped into my office and watched her face as the doors closed. The animosity mounted and I swore I heard her screech in frustration through the metal barrier as it closed.

That bitch was going to be fired as soon as these Games were over.

My father…I visited the man when my parents were on speaking terms, or rather sleeping terms. He would take me to stores and to the ice cream shop and shower me in gifts. So did the array of visitors that came to my mother in the midst of the night, or day, or the time in between. Not all of them were nice men, mind you.

That made me not a very nice girl.

Sliding into my chair, I rolled up towards my monitors. I hated interns. They were whiny, goody-two-shoes who hoped to be the next great thing by doing very little. It was pathetic. The only way for these Games to go smoothly was for me to do it myself and on my own.

I shoved my headphones over my ears, flicking between scenes. The outlying District trio had captured the Capitol's attention at the moment so I took the liberty to look at the rest of the tributes. The loners were easy to look through and I found myself staring at the Careers for a bit when another screen brought my eyes to it. It wasn't quite the screen but the sounds I heard. Barely a whisper, I adjusted the volume and strained my ears to hear what exactly was being said.

"Dolly? You there?"

Dolly? That was what the supposed Ghost Boy called Avara.

He was communicating through the radio. Impressive.

"Wake up. Trouble's only a hop, skip, and jump away and I suggest you get skedaddling now before I figure out how to slap myself despite HAVING NO PHYSICAL HANDS."

Why…why was the voice familiar? I fiddled with the volume, trying to make it as crisp as possible.

The girl stirred, rolling across the floor into the glass. She moaned softly in pain. I sighed at the sight. I was about read to pressing a button and sending mutant Retrievers at her. But that voice….

Unconsciously, I knew exactly who it was. It was a name that was on the tip of my tongue but I could not grasp and it was only when I looked at my hand did I realize.

My fingers were drumming on the journal of Fiona C. Flycactus.

She was the brother of Ip Z. Flycactus.

Ember Blaze, Gamemaker Intern

My career was ruined. No ifs, ands, or buts. Henri would be so smug as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and announced that he was, for once, right. In my defense, he said I was never cut out to be a Gamemaker. I wasn't cut out, really, to listen to that loon who was supposedly the greatest thing that has ever happened to the Capitol.

Henri was out fighting for our country. Maybe not right now, but if the time came, he'd do it. He was like a Peacekeeper but of much higher caliber. The kind that protects the President and his people. I wanted to contribute towards it too. How did I do that?

By fetching hot chocolate.

Head Gamemaker PJ was not a person I'd soon forget and not exactly for the reasons you'd initially believe. Her face was clear of alterations, ears adorned with various metal piercings, and hair kept uncolored and shortened like that of a young boy's to her face. It displayed her straight eyebrows and overall wolfish look prominently. It matched her determined, snarky attitude perfectly and the smirk tied all the features together effortlessly.

One got used to PJ's mental abuse soon after becoming her intern. I only wished I could talk to someone who had gone through the process. And that was Drake. He, frankly, was not one to make company with.

I didn't need PJ to know that. I was smarter than I looked.

People gushed about how confident and intelligent Drake was and how brave he was to survive a boss like that of Head Gamemaker PJ. Brave, okay, you could give him that. Intelligent enough to know how to deal with her and live long enough to become Gamemaker. He had that too.

Drake, I assumed, was very good at playing a part. If you wanted to be a Gamemaker, you had to be a great actor. Boys and girls, forget stardom by being on your favorite sitcom. Try your hand at politics. The only difference was the laugh track.

I learned that fast. Drake did too. I just wasn't as good as keeping up with the act.

The whole story with PJ being mean to survive as a woman was bullshit. She said she was different; yes, she was. Not many Capitol citizens could make hunks of metal fly around. I was a girl and men and women alike did tend to stare. But I knew how to handle myself around them. Acting as the naïve intern got their attention but they moved on fast. It wasn't too true of an act. I could be a real ditz at times. Who wasn't?

But women being the future? Whoa, whoa, PJ had to hold her horses. She was nuts. She had lost all her marbles. She was out of her mind and was vacationing in her summer home in Crazy Town.

I wasn't all too surprised when I snapped. For a moment, relief flooded through me. All this was over. She'd stop preaching her words to me and would just fire me. Instead, though, she made me get her cocoa with a tone that said I'd regret everything. I feared for my dreams and only found their shattered remains, hopelessly broken piece by piece and stabbed back into my soul.

With all this in mind, I strode to the cafeteria to make PJ's chocolate. As it brewed, I played with the thought of spitting in the cup but pushed it to the side. It was childish and stupid and I would never stoop to such levels.

At least, I hoped I'd never go that low.

My hands shook and the hot chocolate gradually pouring from the machine ran over the sides, scalding my flesh. I shrieked in pain. Tears stung my eyes but not as viciously as the chocolate seeping through my shirt and burning my abdomen. Steam rose visibly into the air.

"The hot chocolate run is best not to be hurried, no matter what the Head Bitch says." A towel appeared in my hands and I dabbed it to the stain that I knew would take hours later to get out. I could stop at the dry cleaner's but when would I ever have time for that? Especially if I'm running errands for PJ….

I looked up to the person who had passed me the towel. "Thank you." I froze, looking into the wide brown eyes of Gamemaker Drake. Instinctively, I flinched away. I may not have believed everything she said but there were a few exceptions.

"Internship is rough. PJ doesn't make it easy." Drake laid napkins on the floor in an attempt to clean it. He sighed raggedly, calling for Avoxes.

"I know what you mean," I rolled my eyes. "She…she's just so…."

"Crazy?"

I shrugged. "Something like that." I stepped to the side as the silent workers trundled up with mops. Drake guided me to the side. "The way she runs everything is so unorthodox. It could be so much better. The Games aren't exactly flat out amazing. It's like it's more about the actual freaks going in then the arena…."

"Heh," Drake laughed. "She knows a thing or two about freaks."

"Takes one to know one," I mumbled. Drake raised his eyebrows high enough where they almost were lost in his hairline. I bit down on my lip. "I should probably-"

"What do you mean by that?" he inquired. "It takes one to know one?"

I backed away. If I ratted out PJ, I would not only have my Gamemaker career crushed, I was pretty sure I'd be crushed. I was way too young and pretty to die!

"Oh, she's just, uh, you know, a freak. Weird, not in the norm. She insists on wearing those unflattering clothes and chews you out on stupid stuff and-"

"Can move metal objects with her mind?"

I stopped evading Drake. I finally met his gaze and the expression he wore showed he was dead serious. It was a look you couldn't fake. No one could muster up and forge the disgust and fear Drake wore. It wasn't a mask. It was the uneasy face he wore beneath one.

He must have recognized the expression on my own face. "She's a mutant freak," I whispered. "She's no better than those infidels from the Districts running around the arena."

Drake grasped my shoulders. His face actually appeared…relieved. "I've known for so long. No one believed me." His fingers dug into my thin shoulders and I amended not wearing my dress with the shoulder pads today. "But now someone does!"

"I wouldn't say I believe you. That suggests you had brought the idea to my attention. This I figured out on myself." I breathed outwards slowly.

"But this changes so much! We know how to tear her down." A crazed grin stretched the length of face. "We can take power; we could be the Head Gamemakers! We'll ruin her!" Drake squeezed me tight in his arms, lifting me up and spinning me around. I kicked limply at the air, not enjoying the feeling of not having stable ground beneath my feet. I pounded his back, demanding he put me down.

"Oh, this day," he said. "This day, Amber-"

"Ember," I corrected.

"-will go down in history. By the times these Games are over, there will be someone new in charge." His face was uncomfortably close. His breath tickled my cheek and it didn't exactly feel nice.

My skin stung where the hot chocolate had touched. A similar brown stain matching mine was pressed into Drake's purple robe, but he didn't look as if he cared. He instead rubbed his hands together, eyes shifting nervously about. I wouldn't doubt if PJ somehow heard our conversation through a teeny tiny microphone of the sorts. "I have a plan. All I need is some of your help."

Drake offered his hand out to me.

Was it worth risking everything? People could be put away for making accusations like this. They may have been true but it didn't necessarily mean it'd be taken as more than a rumor made up by some whiny interns she once had. Henri couldn't marry a jailbird! I don't look good in stripes!

But…what if it did work?

Before I knew it, my hand was enfolded in Drake's larger one.

Thoughts, my pretties?