I'll be doing another couple of chapters introducing mentors down the line but subs are still open till May 10! Thank you to everyone who expressed interest so far, and I hope this impression of the Flickermans, Medea, and the Head Gamemaker are enlightening

02 – THE SACRED SINNERS

Medea Crane, 3rd President of Panem

"You're not seriously going through with it, right?"

"Yeah, you'll veto the ruling, won't you?"

The Flickerman twins stared at her, wide-eyed and expectant, as they assaulted her with questions about the Quell. She expected a lot of people to be hounding her about the twist, even if it was a totally random drawing like usual, but she never expected the two who made the most noise about how interesting the Quell would be to come at her first.

Medea sighed and pinched her brow. It was enough to make the Head Gamemaker pipe up from her spot by the window, where she gazed out at the crowds of people panicking and celebrating alike. "Pipe down, both of you," Malvolia growled from behind her veil. "Honestly, Mr. Flickerman would be rolling in his grave if he knew you two were toeing the line of treason by pestering the President."

Ptolemy flinched. Arsinoe whined and pouted as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"We're just… thinking of ratings and popularity for President Crane," Ptolemy tried weakly.

"Yeah, the last guy was so bad people almost started a civil war for a second time," Arsinoe whined.

Another remark from Malvolia: "Be careful what you say, then. Snow's loyalists still work in this building, and I'd hate to see spineless celebrities face the consequences of saying the wrong thing to the wrong people."

Celebrities never did like being called cowards.

"Nero's bullying us!" Arsinoe screamed at Medea.

"Are you going to let her treat us like that?" Ptolemy crowed.

Medea slammed her fists onto her desk with a sharp, "Shut up, all of you!"

The twins gave her betrayed looks, but Malvolia was silent as she stepped away from the window. She walked back to her seat in front of Medea's desk and sat down with more grace than anyone else in the room combined. She'd learned how to carry herself in a way that Snow would like from Seneca Crane during her internships, after all.

"It's no wonder President Crane tolerates Romola more than you two," Malvolia grumbled. "At least she knows her place and doesn't demand things on a silver platter. Compared to you two, who were hyping up this Quell's twist on live television, she hasn't even had a single complaint."

Arsinoe mumbled under her breath. Malvolia was still as a statue, but she was watching Medea like a hawk through her veil. She always did when Lola was brought up.

"Say that again, Arsinoe," Medea commanded flatly. Arsinoe paled, realised what she'd said, but she didn't dare lie to Medea's face.

"I—" Medea didn't even blink as she held Arsinoe's terrified gaze. "I said Romola isn't complaining because… because she's an ungrateful District brat."

The room was silent for a time. Malvolia's watchful gaze never left Medea. Ptolemy was beginning to break out into a visible sweat as his sister lowered her gaze. There were many ways to take this confrontation—like Snow, like the man before him—but Medea had carefully crafted her image of regalness far too much to indulge in the more barbaric punishments. What would the loyalists say if she Avoxed a Capitolite for badmouthing a mere Hunger Games victor turned interviewer?

She leaned back in her chair and hummed.

"I must still be behind on Capitol views," she mused. "Even in Three, back when I was in university and it was unsafe for father to claim me, I could've sworn the public of the Capitol adored its victors. Why, I seem to recall the Ninetieth Games almost coming to a standstill due to the overwhelming support given to Romola Amos when they found out she was Caesar's daughter. Malvolia, do I recall wrong?"

"You are correct, Madam President." Malvolia folded her hands over her lap. "In fact, I explicitly remember ordering to cease sponsorships midway through the Games due to the excessive spending and outright game-breaking gifts being sent in."

"It's the strangest thing," Medea went on. "Those from the Districts who did receive the luxuries of the Capitol always seemed to be quite… grateful, if you ask me. Grateful to be alive. Grateful to be loved. Grateful to have people who would start a war for them.

"But I have never seen such a lukewarm response to one of the Capitol's precious victors quite like your own, Flickermans."

A pause. Ptolemy tried to salvage his sister's pride. "She broke Mother's heart when she revealed Father had cheated," he muttered. "And it killed her."

"Please," Medea sighed. "The late Mrs. Flickerman died due to long-standing complications of torsades de pointes. She'd been clinically dead the year prior to Romola's revelation because of it."

Both twins were fuming, but neither could find the words to argue back. It was clear this was going to remain an issue that would interfere with decisions for the Quell, and Medea could only furrow her brows as she straightened herself.

"Ptolemy. Arsinoe. I noticed investigative journalism has made a resounding comeback in popularity after Snow's passing." Medea waited for the twins to look up at her again, and when they did she gave them a hardened stare. "Thus, it wouldn't be farfetched to assume there are eyes and ears everywhere—even in my office. I'd hate for two of the most popular celebrities of our generation to be subject to a lynch mob because of their petty disdain for the most beloved Hunger Games victor in history."

Arsinoe burst out from her chair with a shout of, "You wouldn't dare tell the press!"

Medea stood up as well, and she bellowed, "How dare you accuse me of feeding gossip to the newspapers, Arsinoe Flickerman."

She sucked in a deep breath, ran a hand through her hair, and finally calmed herself.

"Both of you are dismissed. I will continue to talk with Head Gamemaker Nero by herself."

Credit where credit was due, she learned fast how to push their buttons and then incriminate the twins enough to send them both away quickly. When the door slammed behind them, Medea let out a groan and leaned back in her chair as soon as she sat down. There was a chuckle from Malvolia, and it soon turned into giggles as she bent over and leaned on her knees for support.

Malvolia hated the twins. She was staunch in upholding the legacy and respect their predecessors had commanded, and while Medea and Malvolia had done their best for Snow and Crane respectively… Well, it was saddening to say the least that the only person upholding Flickerman's reputation was his battle-hardened lovechild who survived the Hunger Games. The others were just brats who expected everything to go their way and threw tantrums when it didn't.

Medea waited patiently for Malvolia to finish her laughter. It took a few minutes, but finally a hand brought a handkerchief under her veil and dabbed at her face. Malvolia was ready for business.

"Right," Medea sighed. "It's no secret that the Capitol is divided by the twist."

"Oh, the Capitol was divided by Lola's existence," Malvolia scoffed. "They still didn't abolish the Hunger Games after the risk of losing their superstar presented itself. You would've let them, too."

She grunted, unimpressed. True, they did enjoy their blood sports too much to call them off. It'd be hypocritical of them to demand it now that their own were in danger. Not that the Capitol was self-aware with that little flaw they had.

"I'll have to reassure them that it won't stay this way in the future," Medea decided. "Sending only twelve from the Districts and filling the gaps with Capitolites."

"But you're not ruling out sending them at all," Malvolia pointed out. She shrugged casually. "It is a new century of Games. Implementing a change that makes the Capitol question the morality of the Games wouldn't be farfetched. I mean, you allowed for cannibalism and outlawed tampering with corpses once they were collected by the airships—people hated it at first, but now they hold parties based on 'finger food' that look like actual fingers."

"I am," Medea cut in, "uncomfortably aware they do that, yes."

"Regardless." Malvolia waved a dismissive hand. "Given the opposition to the twist, how do you plan to handle reapings? It's a little more complicated with half the tributes being in one place while the rest are scatted across Panem."

Medea reached for her fountain pen on the right side of her desk. She uncapped it, pulled a notepad from her drawer, and immediately began to scribble her plan in shorthand as she spoke.

"We delay the announcement of the reapings," she told Malvolia. The woman leaned closer, moving her chair entirely so she could hear better as Medea lowered her voice. Eyes and ears truly were everywhere—it wasn't just something to say to make the Flickermans shut up. "Instead of hosting the reapings in the morning, we claim to delay and hold a meeting with the council. I'll brief Lola and the Flickermans on what we're doing, allow for a discussion on conduct for this Quell, and any ideas that could be used last-minute. Our escorts do the reapings under the cover of moonlight, bring one mentor and the tribute to the Capitol that night, and the next morning we announce the tribute being reaped to the designated group."

Malvolia nodded along. She at least understood the intent when she said, "This'll prevent wealthier families from cheating their way out of the reapings last minute as well. And from strategic volunteering. We'll be giving them more than enough handicaps without luck being removed from the equation."

"Exactly." Medea tore off one piece, wrote reaping in shorthand, and moved on too the next sheet of paper. "The old mentor academy Snow studied at—the building is still there, and we have time to educate some hopeful scholars and interns for gamemaking to mentor their Capitol wards. I doubt all the Districts will actually help our kids, so that's another reassurance we grant the Capitol for their safety."

"We need a contingency plan."

Medea glanced up as she paused. She waited for Malvolia to continue as she kept her hand still.

"Guidance does little to reassure the parents of the children, let alone Snow's loyalists. We should send all Capitol children into the arena will a full bag of supplies."

"No," Medea said flatly. "They'll use it to cheat and eliminate others on their pedestals by triggering the mines."

Malvolia hummed. "No weapons."

"Obviously."

"And we make them work for the supplies."

Medea actually laughed at that. "Ms. Nero, how are we making them work for the supplies when they have the supplies from the beginning?"

There was a method to the madness, it seemed. Malvolia didn't say it aloud, instead reaching for the fountain pen and paper, and Medea gave them to her without a word. In a few careful strokes, the paper was slid back to Medea and the pen twirled in Malvolia's hand as she waited for the verdict. On the paper, only a picture of a lock and key were added to the notes.

With a slow exhale, Medea looked back up at Malvolia and shook her head with a smile. "I'm starting to see why Snow approved you as Father's replacement."

"You flatter me. Now don't ever mention his name in conjunction with me or Mr. Crane ever again."

Fair enough.

"Alright." Medea tore off this note as well and added a few smaller details—details she was sure the gamemakers could handle on their own—and handed them to Malvolia. "Spread the word. I'll make preparations and scout the potential mentors for the Capitol kids."

"Yes, ma'am," was the lazy reply Malvolia gave her.