Caesar Flickerman, 66, Master of Ceremonies
"Hello, Mr Flickerman," President Snow says, coldly.
Startled, I look up from my cuffed hands. The peacekeepers had grabbed me the moment I'd stepped backstage. To be honest, I'd been expecting them. The interviews were a disaster.
"Do you remember the instructions I gave you before the show?" Snow asks.
"Don't start a riot," I mumble.
"And what happened?"
"I didn't start it," I say. "The tributes did."
"So, why did you let them?" Snow asks. "You're supposed to be in control of your own show, Mr Flickerman."
I sigh. There's not really any way I can argue with that. I'm not sure that I want to keep my job as Master of Ceremonies. Right now, I just want to keep my life. I'd gone into the interviews thinking that I was untouchable. I was famous, a household name.
But now I realise that Snow is too powerful. If he wanted me dead, I'd be dead.
"Let's take a look at what went wrong," Snow says. "Shall we?"
Snow presses a button on the table in front of me and a hologram appears. I almost laugh. It reminds me so much of how I used to talk victors through recaps of their games. I watch as little hologram me talks to slightly less little hologram Houghton Field.
"Guess who's going to be District 9's first legacy victor?" Houghton asks.
"You are!" My hologram replies.
"I did a good job with Houghton," I tell Snow. I want to defend myself, somehow, and Houghton is the best tribute to use.
I was a little worried that opening the show with a fifteen-year-old amnesiac from the grain district would ruin the whole show but I needn't have worried about Houghton. The kid was a remarkably fast learner, managing to come across as a confident potential victor and grieving son who'd missed half his father's life. All he'd needed was the right questions, a few nudges in the right direction.
No, I'd needed to worry about other tributes.
"It's all downhill from here," Snow says.
He's right. Navara's interview isn't my finest moment but it isn't my worst. I watch myself try to coax some answers out of the shy girl in the blue dress and remember a simpler time, a time when my biggest obstacle was stage-fright. I hadn't made any mistakes with Navara, no major missteps. I just hadn't found the right question to get her to come out of her shell. Now she might not get the sponsors that could save her life. I'd failed her.
But what's the bigger failure? Failing a teenage girl from District 6 or failing President Snow?
"What would you say is the key to your alliance?" My hologram asks Sankie Earthash.
"I don't know," Sankie says, vaguely. "Food?"
From Sankie's interview, we learn that Ageis had never eaten pizza before being resurrected, Fawkes has a massive sweet tooth and Régine regrets never learning to cook. We don't learn what she's doing in an alliance with three of the most dangerous tributes in the Quell.
I consider my interview with Modus one of my best. He comes onto the stage looking so nervous that he might collapse, then I remind him that he's Panem's deadliest thirteen-year-old and he lights up. He spends the rest of the interview grinning and answering my questions cheerfully. Just watching it enough to put a smile on my face. I know that it didn't change much in the grand scheme of things but I made that kid's day.
There are tributes like Charon every year. Silent tributes. Tributes I know don't stand a chance and I shouldn't even bother with. It makes me sad to watch him silently staring at the audience and shaking like a leaf from morphling withdrawal. It's one thing to interview an addict from Six, a kid who you only know as an addict, and a completely different thing to interview someone who you once knew as powerful and confident.
"District 5 is long overdue a victor," my hologram says to Splendour. "Do you think you could be the one?"
"I'm better than Modus," Splendour says, drily. My hologram gives a small chuckle.
Splendour was the first tribute of the night who really knew what he was doing and what he was doing was deflecting. So I let him deflect. I knew that Splendour was one of the tributes who benefited from fading into the background.
I was careful around Moss. After the whole star-crossed lovers disaster of last year's games, I was conscious of all the romances blossoming between tributes this year.
"You had quite the perfect arena, didn't you?" My hologram opens with something completely unrelated to Moss' romance with Silver. Watching it back now, I breathe a sigh of relief. It might help me get out of this mess with Snow.
"Yeah," Moss says, brightly. "I can't wait to see what this one's got in store. I'm sure there'll be some fascinating mutts in there."
"That's strange," my hologram says. "Normally, tributes are worried about mutts."
"Not this tribute," Moss rests a hand on the front of his dark green suit. "I love dealing with wild animals. Maybe that's why I fell so hard for Silver."
The audience laugh. Since Silver is unavoidable now, the topic shifts to him.
"They're talking about romance," I say to Snow. "And there's no rioting."
"That's because Moss Hawkins couldn't start a riot if his life depended on it," Snow says. "He's too positive."
Drachma Montez was the first tribute who gave me trouble.
"Get me back in the arena!" She snarls. "I want to kill some people."
"Are you sure?" My hologram asks. "I doubt you'd be able to fight in that outfit."
Drachma looks down at her tight, cow-patterned dress and gives a screech of anger. "This entire interview is a waste of time and my idiot stylist is a waste of oxygen!"
"She's not starting any riots either," I say.
"Of course she isn't," Snow says. "To start a riot, you need to get people to believe in you. The first tribute who's a major issue is up next."
I hold my breath as hologram Mako walks onto the stage in his dove-grey suit. The audience immediately let out a sigh when he arrives.
"I don't know why I'm still wearing this," he holds up his wedding ring. "She's long gone, I just... I just can't quite believe it. I came so close... so close, Caesar."
He breaks down in tears.
"I don't see what the problem with Mako is," I tell Snow. "His wife left him. It's fine that he's sad."
"If he were the only tribute in the games, maybe," Snow says. "But Mr Yubeta and a few other troublesome tributes combined can cause some problems. Yubeta set the ball rolling. Now look who picks it up."
I grit my teeth. Silver Oberst. Not just that, Silver Oberst but angry. His suit is silver with black stripes, like the bark of a birch tree. If there's one thing I learned from interviewing Silver the first time around, it's that he hates outfits themed around his name.
"Caesar," Silver says, flatly. "You've aged."
I put my head in my hands as my hologram sighs with exasperation. If there's one thing that makes me lose all sense of professionalism, it's being reminded that I'm old.
"Silver," my hologram counters. "It's a pretty fitting name, especially since you came second."
The audience all laugh. Silver looks like he wants to strangle someone.
Then a devilish smile creeps onto his face.
"You think my name's stupid?" Silver asks. "Imagine being called Coriolanus."
"Yes," President Snow adds. "Imagine being called Coriolanus."
"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't think anyone would dare to say that after the whole Miller incident. At least we know that Silver's trouble."
"And all of Silver's fans suddenly want to be trouble as well," Snow adds.
"Oh, look!" I cry, finding a distraction on the screen. "Eidolon! He doesn't say anything rebellious."
"That's because he's mute," Snow says.
"Neither does Honeydew," I add. "She's not mute."
"That's because she's trying not to make her brother look weak," Snow says. "Which is a problem because it makes people root for both of them when only one can win. Let's look at Eros."
I brace myself for the boos from the audience as Eros steps onstage. I wonder why, out of all the tributes Eros had to make a rivalry with, he chose the one with the most intense and vocal fandom. I suppose jealousy makes people twice as stupid, which is lethal when you're as stupid as Eros Buonafonte.
"I tried to calm the crowd down," I say. "I tried to get him talking about Rusalka. The people love a romance..."
I trail off. I'm not fooling anyone. Eros Buonafonte's interview was the moment I lost control and I never quite got it back.
If Diana had come earlier in the evening, I would've assumed that her interview was harmless. Now, watching it back, I can see that she was just adding more fuel to the fire.
"I heard you made friends with Dio," Diana says. "Was he good?"
"He was my favourite," my hologram says. I know that it's a lie. My favourite that year was Dellon Takeda, the skinny fourteen-year-old from District 3 who told jokes about being my hairdresser. But Dio was my second favourite. I'd hoped that Dellon would die painlessly and I'd hoped that Dio would take home the victory.
And both my hopes were dashed.
Now, I wonder, if Diana's interview could stir up so much emotion in me, what would it do to the rest of the Capitol?
I'm grateful for Lacquera. She spends ages spinning around, showing off her sparkly dress. Then, when she does talk, all she talks about is fashion. There's nothing rebellious or dangerous about her.
Then I remember that Ageis comes next.
"I didn't know about Ageis," I tell Snow, as Lacquera's finishing her interview. "There was nothing about abuse in her file. If anyone's at fault here, it's whichever researcher screwed up."
"You could've changed the subject," Snow says.
As if on cue, my hologram puts his foot in it.
"Do you miss being mentored by your aunt?" The hologram asks.
"No," Ageis says. "I'm glad she's not here. She won't be able to hurt me anymore."
"Do you really think I could change the subject after that?" I ask. "The poor girl's been abused half her life by a famous victor. Even if I tried to change the subject, it'd only make the anger even worse than it was."
"But now the rebellion have more ammunition," Snow says. "Now they know that one of my favourite victors abused her niece. What will the people want to know next?"
His attention moves to the hologram, where Régine Maurin is beginning to give her interview.
"Ah, yes," Snow says. "They'll want to know if every Elite was abused."
"I'm so glad to be in an alliance with Ageis," Régine says. "She's the bravest person I've ever met. I don't think I'd have been able to survive her childhood. I struggled enough with my parents and they never beat me."
"What did you struggle with?" My hologram asks. "We were all moved by how you confessed your love to Ramona Hirose at the end of your games. Did you ever come out to your parents?"
"When I was twelve I told my parents that I had a crush on a girl," Régine says. "They told me it was wrong so I pretended it was just a phase. My real problem with my parents was that they wanted a successful child more than they wanted a happy child. They pushed me so hard to be a fighter... a lot of the time I felt like they'd never love me. That's why I know that Ageis is telling the truth. I was never abused but I can see how that Elite attitude, that desire to push children into being killers, can lead to abuse."
"Do you see the problem?" Snow asks.
"She's questioning the system," I say. "And encouraging others to do the same."
"Exactly," Snow says.
I say nothing about Asteraceae. I know that, at this stage, one loyalist tribute won't save the interviews. She offers something sugary about how nice it is to be in the Capitol and how lovely both her allies are.
Liberty starts her interview in a similar way. She shares a few happy stories about her mentor and her ally. Then I put my foot in it again.
"How does it feel to be the highest-placing twelve-year old in six decades?"
Liberty shrugs. "It's not that surprising. I'm not shocked at all that a twelve-year-old has never won. We're here to look cute and then die, after all."
I shiver when I see Rusalka. She looks even paler in hologram form with her fair skin, silvery hair and leaf-green dress. I remember the coldness that was in her eyes when she spoke to me.
That was the look of a girl who'd been hurt too much.
Rusalka gives one word answers the whole time until the conversation turns to Eros.
"My Eros," Rusalka says, adoringly. "You have no idea how much I love him."
Snow clears his throat. For a second, I'm worried that he's going to bring up the romance between Rusalka and Eros. Instead he says something much worse.
"Pay close attention to the next one. It's my personal favourite."
I know what he means. There's no way Fawkes Chau could be Snow's favourite tribute. There's no way he gave Snow's favourite interview.
This is Snow's favourite example of when a tribute completely and utterly wiped the floor with me.
Fawkes Chau looks like a ghost. He looked like a ghost when I saw him in person and he looks even more like a ghost now he's a hologram. His outfit is eerily similar to last time, right down to the undone top button on his shirt. Except last time, his shirt was white, which brought out the golden-brown tones in his skin. Now it's a dark red, which washes him out.
Dark red. Blood red. The colour of gamemakers.
"Fawkes..." My hologram falters. "You look good."
I curse my bad luck. The camera picked up my uncertainty but not the look that flickered in Fawkes' dark eyes as he sat down. Pure, violent hatred.
I don't blame him. I was the one who said the words that sealed his fate last time.
"So do you, Caesar," Fawkes slips back into his usual angle. "Lavender's your colour."
"Now," my hologram says. "You're a big fan of the games. You're familiar with most of your opponents. Are there any that scare you?"
Fawkes laughs. "People don't scare me, Caesar. The only tribute to be feared in the arena is me. I scored that eleven, didn't I? Doesn't that make me... the highest scoring District 3 tribute of all time?"
"Any clues on how you got that eleven?" My hologram asks. It's clear that Fawkes is basically interviewing himself. I was just a brick wall for him to bounce ideas off. I tried so hard to keep up, to look like I was the one in control, but Snow isn't fooled.
Fawkes is right. He is the one to be scared of. He scares me.
"I did my worst," Fawkes smiles, wickedly. The audience scream with joy. They love him. It's clear that Fawkes Chau has a grip on the fans and he's not about to let them go. To them, he's that darling boy with such a gorgeous smile.
But to those of us at the top, those of us who played a part in his death... we're the only ones who see how sharp his teeth really are.
"I hear that Eros Buonafonte is out for your blood," my hologram says. I remember how scared I was, how desperate I was to find Fawkes' weakness. "Does that scare you?"
Fawkes laughs. "Eros isn't worth my time. He's not even worth the effort to kill. Someone else is probably going to do it for me."
"That's a bit of a problem with you, isn't it?" My hologram says. "You're one of the few tributes in the arena with zero kills."
"Zero direct kills," Fawkes corrects. "If everyone just stabbed each other, the games would get boring. That's why the arena's different every year, to give tributes new opportunities to eliminate their opponents in new and creative ways. I'd rather give the people something they haven't seen before and get no direct kills than kill a ton of people in a dull, predictable way. That's what you guys want, isn't it?"
The audience cheers. Fawkes smiles.
"I'm doing this for the people, Caesar," he continues. "I realise that I let them all down by dying last time so I promise I won't do it again. I just want to give something back to all my fans and sponsors for all the love and support they've given me."
A chorus of squeals rises up from the audience.
I can pinpoint the exact moment where I make the mistake.
"Want to know what your fans call you?" My hologram asks.
"I have a nickname!" Fawkes' eyes light up. "I hope it's cool."
"They call you The Gamemaker."
For a moment, Fawkes' smile drops. He shakes his head. I can see the false hope in my hologram's eyes. I really believed that I finally had him.
"That won't do," Fawkes mutters. "I'm not a gamemaker," then a terrifying smile creeps onto his face. "Not anymore, anyway... I got fired."
Snow laughs, bitterly, as my hologram struggles to come up with something to say.
"You see," Snow says. "Young Mr Chau provides an excellent reminder of our dear friend, Seneca Crane. A reminder that anyone can get fired from their job."
"Call me The Phoenix," Fawkes declares. "I died. But now I'm back and I'm hotter than ever."
The buzzer is almost drowned out by applause. Fawkes bows, elegantly, and returns to his seat.
I honestly completely forgot that Jiro existed. I brace myself for Katniss Everdeen only for Jiro to appear. I can't remember anything he said.
It probably means he's no trouble. That's the best I can wish for.
"Do we have to watch the Twelves?" I ask. My voice is small and weak.
"No," Snow says. "I trust you to remember them."
I nod, thinking of Katniss Everdeen's burning dress and mockingjay wings and then Peeta Mellark's announcement that his district partner is pregnant with his child. After sitting through all those interviews with Ageis and Fawkes and all the others building up the tension, something about Peeta Mellark finally made my audience snap.
And if my Capitol audience snapped, I don't want to think about the districts.
"So," Snow turns the hologram off. "What are we going to do with you, Caesar?"
"I'm not the issue," I plead. "The tributes are the issue."
"The tributes can be dealt with," Snow says. "They're going into the arena. You're not. So here's what's going to happen. You are going to take this games off, let Claudius Templesmith take over your duties. Then we shall see who wins. If they're one of the tributes who gave you trouble, there will be consequences."
"I understand," I say.
"Good," Snow says. "You may leave."
One of the peacekeepers behind me unlocks my handcuffs and leads me out of the room. I feel a new weight on my shoulders.
If the wrong tribute wins this Quell, my life could be over.
So I do the only responsible thing. I get out my communicuff and call my great nephew.
"Hello, Augustus," I say. "Can you do me a favour? I'm going to give you some money and you're going to bet it all on Houghton Field... Yes, you can keep some of the winnings."
I'm going to make sure the right tribute wins this.
I was originally going to do the interviews as they happened but I thought it would be better to deal with the aftermath. Caesar's got himself into a bit of hot water, since half the rebels suddenly decided to let loose. Especially Fawkes. I made his interview a little longer than the others because this is a key moment for his character. I just couldn't resist the Harry Potter reference.
Up next is the emotional reunion chapter. Bring the tissues.