This is a little late. I got super distracted by the NLCS this weekend, but the Braves did make it to the World Series, so I'm super hyped!

Here we go. It's time for the private sessions, the time where we find out which tributes are the most dangerous to encounter in the arena – to a certain degree that is. This Chapter is told from a couple different POVs, all Capitol characters. Also, score reveals, and reactions will be revealed from the perspectives of a couple mentors. The shady surveillance plot continues as well.

Valora Brightfall Head Gamemaker: 31F

Saturday Morning 10:30AM
Time Until Bloodbath: 1 Day 21hrs 30mins

The table was set, and the room was prepared. Valora sat alongside her fellow Gamemakers and the trainers with Weidman to her right. She had participated in the scoring sessions in her previous position on the arena design team. They drug on forever and ever, and by the time District 6 or 7 started their sessions, most of the team was drunk.

Valora could normally keep her focus longer than her compatriots, and she hoped to maintain that ability today. Scoring was important work, and she couldn't allow herself to become too inebriated. Though, at least she had Weidman to back her up if she did lose herself to the bottle. She knew she could rely on the head trainer to keep order.

Weidman did seem a little perturbed that she did not have nearly as much influence over the scores as usual, given the express order from President Viktor to judge each tribute objectively. Valora was quite confident that Weidman would toe the line however, as Viktor had the power to remove her on a moment's notice. At least, that was the case right now though things were changing.

It was only a short time before the procession of tributes that would take up her entire afternoon finally began. Each tribute had ten minutes and could perform any sort of skills they chose. Trainers were available to act as sparring partners if so desired by the tribute.

Tabby Gold was the first to enter, introducing herself proudly and magnanimously, which Valora found ironic. The District 1 girl had a good head on her shoulders, though she seemed to have an improper understanding of her own importance in the world.

Tabby strutted across the room to take a bow from the wall. Her demeanor suggested confidence, but a hint of a mask was layered over her natural disposition like she was trying too hard to appear strong.

She took a strong stance at the firing line across from the targets with multiple arrows prepared to shoot. Tabby's shots were quick but measured, not the best Valora had seen in her time as a Gamemaker. Valora had to rank her shooting at somewhere around the top thirty percent of tributes she had seen use a bow. For a career, that level of performance was somewhat disappointing. Valora was hoping to see a top-level performance from Tabby, but that seemed unlikely.

As the girl took up a long knife and began working against a dummy, Valora grew more certain of her conclusions on Tabby. The girl was tough and certainly no slouch, but was she a top contender? No.

Santana Perez was the next tribute to enter, bowing dramatically. Every move Santana made seemed to be staged, like he had planned his training session to be a performance for the Gamemakers.

Santana faced off against one of the trainers in a sword duel. His movements were fast and explosive, each swing of his sword battering down his opponent's defenses. Santana did not seem to care at all that he displayed rather poor technique. The redhead was having too much fun to take a calm measured approach to combat.

Finally, he seemed to grow tired of toying with his opponent, and Santana knocked the trainer flat on his ass, then struck a pose and loosed a loud yell like he was in a kung fu movie.

Santana then turned to the training dummies with his sword, hacking away at them almost for the fun of it. Blood spewed everywhere from the inside of the dummy, but Santana most certainly didn't care as his arms were soaked in the red liquid.

Valora choked back her urge to vomit.

As the timer dinged signaling an end to Santana's session, he stuck his long tongue from his mouth and dragged it down the flat of his blood-soaked sword. The man next to Valora gagged and not so discretely spat his wine back into his cup.

"Thank you fine audience!" Santana spoke authoritatively. "I hope you enjoyed!"

He made another sweeping bow, then turned from the room chucking his sword into the chest of one now ruined dummy. It stuck in the dummy's chest wiggling slightly.

"That was eventful," Weidman commented idly.

The head trainer did not appear affected by Santana's antics in the slightest.

Cassie Dawson entered next, calmly announcing her intent to spar a trainer with a sword. The sword Cassie chose was far more elegant than the hacking tool Santana had picked, and her style reflected this. Cassie's focus was laser like, totally absorbed in the task of defeating the trainer she faced.

She also took a more defensive approach to the fight, tiring out her opponent, then disarming him and holding her blade to his throat.

Cassie moved on to throwing spears, taking a few of the shorter shafted spears and launching them with tremendous force into the opposing targets. Each throw reflected Cassie's complete competence in her skills. Cassie was a complete tribute, and there wasn't one part of her game that was lacking.

"May I speak to you all briefly?" Cassie questioned as she wrapped up her spear throwing with another strike to the bullseye. Her tone suggested humility, something Weidman had insisted Cassie did not have much of.

"The floor is yours," Valora gestured for her to continue. "You have three minutes left."

"I wanted to show you all that I do have a complete skill set," Cassie said, getting straight down to business. "Not only in terms of weaponry, but also in terms of battle strategy, and I wanted to give you a brief description of how I would go about taking out the other career tributes this year.

"I would defeat Tabby by attacking her by surprise. She is not very observant, and additionally this would allow me to avoid facing an archer whose range I cannot match. Once I get close, I can easily defeat her. As for Santana, I can play to his ego, flirting with him and giving him compliments, making him drop his guard. I can defeat Jason through use of my throwing spears. Jason is very dangerous in a close-up fight, but from far away, I could take him easily.

"I can take advantage of Murchad's eagerness by fighting defensively, forcing him into exhaustion before I attack. I could get up close with Eydis, preferably in a weaponless situation and overpower her. She's fast, but not terribly strong. I can poison Tyto. He's way too trusting as far as I'm concerned.

"Thank you very much for your time," Cassie finished just as the timer dinged.

So, Tyto Winter would be a part of the career alliance this year? That was an interesting development.

Jason Green entered next, starkly contrasting Santana's demeanor. There seemed to be nothing planned about his appearance at all. He took up a very different sword as well, longer and thinner.

His combat too contrasted Santana's. First, Jason insisted on fighting two trainers rather than one, but Weidman allowed Jason to proceed.

If Santana was a hammer, smashing opponents into submission, Jason was a scalpel, carefully picking targets and striking them with the utmost precision. He calmly dismantled his opponents with a tiny smirk on his face. There was no hesitation in his movements at all. It was obvious Jason's only goal was to defeat the trainers as quickly as possible.

Valora was substantially impressed with Jason's performance. He demonstrated his proficiency with throwing knives next, showing himself to be quite skillful.

Upon his exit, the Gamemakers were applauding Jason Green.

Ayla Ithico was the next tribute to enter the room, and already, Valora could tell that many of her fellow Gamemakers were showing their boredom already. One man showed a great interest in his phone, while another woman's eyes drooped lowly.

Ayla began by showcasing her knife skills against a dummy, skills she likely learned only in the last three days. She was not bad, all things considered. But Valora couldn't be sure exactly why Ayla did not fight as well as the preceding four tributes, given her own combat inexperience.

"You should probably go to your doctor tomorrow," Ayla commented to a short man drinking heavily from his wine glass as she left. "Don't want to have liver failure."

The guy looked somewhat surprised, then shrugged, tossing Ayla's words aside like leaves in the wind.

Tesler Valdes appeared with a calm smirk on his face. He looked at them like they meant nothing to him at all, a disposition that was quite off putting.

He snatched up a knife and took to stabbing a dummy just like his district partner, though he appeared more skilled. Tesler called for a trainer to spar with him.

Then, Valora was mildly surprised by Tesler's performance against the trainer. He moved quite fluidly and showed excellent defensive capability, though he seemed to struggle when attacking and instead elected to counterstrike.

"See you on TV tomorrow night," Tesler sent a casual nod along with his resting smirk face.

Valora watched as Weidman took another note on her sheet of paper while Tesler exited the room. Valora would have to remember that technique for maintaining focus through private sessions in the future. She could already feel her concentration beginning to wane.

Eydis displayed a wide variety of skills including basic first aid, speed on the obstacle course, and a spar showing her skill with the spear. Murchad demonstrated excellent skill with a trident and with knives. He was quite physically strong despite his smaller stature.

All the while, Weidman took furious notes, and Valora felt her eyes drooping. She didn't know how Weidman remained so attentive throughout the process.

As they progressed into the outer districts, the talent level dropped, and Valora found herself taking more drinks of her wine.

Neither Eira nor Edison were particularly impressive. Both were intelligent enough to learn some survival skills in the limited time provided to them but struggled when it came to the combat areas.

District 6's tributes Liz and Nebraska both proved to be fairly agile, performing well on the obstacle course, especially Nebraska. The boy seemed to float across the walls and gaps like a squirrel jumping through the trees. But while Nebraska seemed demure, Liz held a fire to her personality that Valora suspected would be difficult to snuff out.

Valora took another drink from her wine, relaxing into her chair. She would attempt to enjoy the rest of this ridiculous event, and the alcohol certainly helped that.

Raj Mansoor Director of the SIS: 53M

Saturday Morning 11:30AM
Time Until Bloodbath: 1 Day 20hrs 30mins

One couldn't trust the politicians in the Capitol, or anywhere for that matter, but Mansoor had a rather simple solution to that issue. If he was in control, then the politicians weren't nearly as much of a problem.

Frankly, Mansoor couldn't care less about policy. Taxes and infrastructure did not interest him in the slightest, nor did they make any real difference to the hierarchy of power in the world. Those things were surface level, irrelevant for a man like Mansoor who had much deeper goals.

That was what the politicians and celebrities didn't understand. They thought that to be in the public eye, to be known and respected in a traditional position of power was to be in control. They thought that holding such a position was what gave someone the ability to mold the world to their will, when in fact, the opposite was true.

Real power, real control was gained from lurking in the shadows, pulling the strings of the puppets from a dark corner. The puppets believed themselves to be in control, but they knew only the illusion of power provided to them by people like Mansoor. After all, to be known was to provide an angle of attack for your enemies. If you were unknown, merely a flickering ghost in people's minds, then no one could claim to control you. They would be lucky to even find you.

Cornell Viktor and various others who, unlike Viktor, Mansoor would call friendly acquaintances, did not understand this. They openly claimed powerful positions and thus painted targets on their backs. Mansoor was not like them. He was a man who had mastered the art of lurking in the shadows.

But as of late, Mansoor had noticed a drastic change in the President's behavior. Not that he'd ever directly spoken to the man. That would be far too dangerous for Mansoor's liking. Staying behind the scenes and observing was much more his game.

The President was being secretive, hiding something. Through use of Mr. Finch's Machine, the amount of information available to them was seemingly limitless. Mansoor's power only grew the longer the machine was in operation.

One of those powers was the ability to dive into digital information and view it in complete secrecy. With that power, Mansoor had unearthed a few disturbing pieces of data, including Viktor's presence in rebellious online networks and his private messages with a mysterious man labeled only "R" in his phone.

It was the latter of the two that concerned Mansoor, considering that, as far as he knew, Viktor never posted to the rebellious networks. The President only read the comments therein. The messages from R indicated that Viktor was heading up a mysterious group with an unknown purpose. The messages between Viktor and R were highly cryptic, flagged by the Machine only because of their mysterious nature.

Sadly, there was only so much information that could be gathered from text messages. Some real field work needed to be done at some point.

All of this led to the current moment in his office, sitting across the desk from Devo, a living killing machine.

Mansoor found Devo when the agent was only a teenager living in District 8. At the time, Mansoor had been a young up and coming agent with a penchant for solving difficult problems. Devo was a homeless kid with no food and no opportunity, but he showed tremendous skill in combat and surprising intelligence.

Throughout the course of his mission Mansoor, with Devo's help, infiltrated a gang and took it over from the inside. The gang continued to function led by the SIS and backed by government funding, though no one in the gang knew it. As for Devo, Mansoor had taken him back to the Capitol to be trained as an agent, and when Mansoor started taking higher level positions in the SIS, he quickly promoted Devo thanks to the man's incredible skill and willingness to take violent action.

"Give me your report on Finch," Mansoor stated. "Did you find anything interesting?"

"Nothing notable unfortunately," Devo replied. "Finch is highly secretive. I wouldn't be surprised if he was a former agent of ours. He had spy craft training, and he definitely knew I was following him around all week. I couldn't stick to his tail at all."

"Did you find out where he lives?"

"No, not even close. At night Finch just disappeared like a ghost."

A man after Mansoor's own heart it sounded like.

"I'd need another couple weeks to figure out his patterns and track him down, but I have to ask, what are we even looking for?"

"Control Devo," Mansoor answered. "It's all about control. A man like Finch, he's dangerous. He's smart, and he has a massive leg up on us, namely that he knows who we are, but we don't know anything about him."

"You're worried he could be a threat to us?"

"I'm not sure, and that's what worries me. He's unpredictable because we have no information on him at all.

"But that's not why I called you here," Mansoor continued. "I want you to take a different assignment. Your new job is to tail President Viktor."

Devo's stoic face twisted into a surprised expression. His face rarely left the realm of stern bordering on cruelty, seeing the shock plastered on his face was almost enough to cause Mansoor to lose his cool and laugh.

"With help from the Machine, I've found some unusual information on our esteemed leader. He's been frequenting rebellion message boards and communicating with some shadowy figure he labeled R in his phone. I can't be sure of exactly what he's doing, but it doesn't bode well."

"You want me to find out?" Devo asked.

"Stick to him like a wet blanket," Mansoor replied. "Make sure he is properly surveilled at all hours of the day and see what you can find out about his quiet plotting."

"Do you think he could be planning a rebellion?"

"I wouldn't rule out the possibility Devo. But one thing's for sure, Viktor has been an outsider in the Capitol since the moment he arrived here, and I wouldn't put it past him to have run for President just to get closer to the inner workings of the government with the plan to eventually destroy them.

"Find out what you can about the President. Tell me when you know more."

Devo gave Mansoor a nod of understanding, then promptly left the room in unceremonious fashion. Mansoor was left to his empty office with only the gentle hum of his computer to fill the silence.

Naomi Weidman Head Trainer: 40F

Friday Afternoon 1:00PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 1 Day 19hrs

As Mila Arkwright exited the room, Weidman looked down to her page of notes. Throughout the process she made quick observations about each tribute along with one sentence that she thought sufficiently described them. Thanks to her extensive experience and time training, Weidman could quickly determine each tribute's combat ability and survival skills.

Arkwright: Situationally dangerous. Otherwise, little more than cannon fodder.

The note was added to the page along with her quick conclusions on the other tributes.

Gold: Rather underwhelming. Arrogance compensates for her lack of talent.

Perez: Batshit crazy. Highly unpredictable and threatening, but tactless.

Dawson: Excellent strategy, good fighter too. Too bad she's a traitor.

Green: The rumors are too, but I'd swear he's a robot.

Ithico: Decently skillful, intelligent, but a little odd.

Valdes: Quite athletic, very smart. Stop smirking at me.

Agnarsson: Balanced skillset. A little demure.

McNamara: Too excitable, but very good with weapons.

Carielle: Not very capable with weapons, but decent at survival stations.

Edison: Small and incompetent with a weapon in hand. Not very threatening.

Adler: Pretty quick, scrappy. Tougher than she looks.

Wilmington: Very fast, seems skittish and not well trained with weapons.

Fisher: Small, but sneaky in the water. Could be dangerous in the right situation.

Winter: Lethal with axes in hand, but maybe too willing to follow orders.

Scott Winston entered the room to the indifference of the Gamemakers. Weidman found herself to be the only one who paid any real attention to the events now. She could tell that even Valora's capacity to take in information had decreased drastically.

Winston worked at the edible plants station, performing decently, though he made quite a few errors. Afterwards, he spent a few minutes attacking a dummy with a short knife. His cuts were sloppy and slow, but there was an anger that fueled them. Weidman doubted the boy would be much of a contender.

Winston: All talk, no walk.

Tanya Mills performed quite well. In her spar against the trainer, Mills proved her skill in hand-to-hand combat. Weidman suspected that, were Mills to get into a hand-to-hand situation, she could take on any tribute in the arena. Strikingly though, Mills did not demonstrate any skill with a weapon. Weidman assumed, thanks to her athleticism, that she could have learned to use a weapon quickly, yet she chose not to show her skill. It seemed quite obvious that Mills was avoiding taking up a weapon for some reason.

Mills: Tough with her fists. Maybe not skilled with a blade?

William Young's strength stuck out amongst all his attributes. He launched heavy weights sizable distances, sparred with a trainer, and then showed some basic survival skills. Young was obviously strong, but his strength proved to be his defining trait in combat. His moves were clumsy but quite powerful, and his skill with the scythe was excellent.

Young: Powerful, but slow. Decent survival skills as well.

The following tributes, from District 10, proved to be quite capable. Pelt was skilled for an outer district tribute, while Imperatore stood amongst the best of the tributes this year.

Pelt: Tenacious and skillful with a knife, though combat is fueled by passion not skill.

Imperatore: A bit too showboaty, but talented, nonetheless.

Tessa Scotch showed herself to be excellent at the edible plants station and at shelter construction. Her survival skills certainly were not lacking. Though, her combat was subpar. Weidman imagined Scotch would struggle mightily in a fight against any tribute save maybe Mila or Edison.

Scotch T: Will perform well if left alone.

Her husband showed a different skillset, attacking dummies manically with a knife in hand. Matt had obviously used a knife to kill before, though Weidman very much doubted he had killed a person. Matt also showed himself to be effective at the edible plants station. Whatever his background was, it would give him an advantage in the Games.

Scotch M: A bit wild in combat, but generally effective. Good survival senses as well.

Then came the final two tribute performances. Kendra Shogana took a pickax from the wall, surprising Weidman slightly. She hadn't expected the quiet blonde girl to be dangerous with a weapon in hand, but Shogana proved her wrong. Her work with the pickax was impressive, probably because she worked in twelve's mines.

Shogana: Very good with a pickax. Skill could translate to more commonly found weapons.

Vogel was the final tribute to appear before the Gamemakers. Three of them were asleep now, and Valora was nearly finished with her bottle of wine. Weidman chuckled to herself at their incompetence. It amazed her that people picked to hold professional positions that required them to accomplish the task of scoring could do so with such little effectiveness.

Vogel's session was uneventful. He showed his skill starting fires, which he proved to be excellent at, and some other survival stations. All the while, Weidman felt a sort of resentment leaking from every pore of his body.

Vogel: Weapon talent questionable. Basic survival skills. Somewhat off putting.

As Vogel departed the room, the Gamemakers finished whatever small snacks they were eating.

"Well I'd say that went rather well," one man remarked. "Perhaps we should have brought some more cheese dip. That would have been lovely."

"You seem distracted Naomi, are you okay?" A woman asked.

Weidman stifled a laugh at the irony of the question. To suggest she was distracted after she'd witnessed multiple Gamemakers passed out in their seats?

"Fine," Weidman answered curtly. "Finishing up work."

She added a few notes to the page, detailing rough scores for each tribute and estimated positions which would be used for her own gambling endeavors. Weidman had a knack for picking victors, though she was aided by her close interaction with each tribute.

"Did you not enjoy yourself this afternoon?" A fat man asked, his belly pushing against the edge of the table.

"I was working this afternoon," Weidman replied. "I didn't come for the refreshments. I came for my paycheck."

"But one must enjoy the finer things in life," the fat man insisted. "You can't allow yourself to become too absorbed in work Naomi."

"I'll do as I like thank you," Weidman said as she closed her notebook and stood to exit the room, stopping briefly by Valora. "Will you be okay getting back home? You drank a lot."

"I'll be fine," Valora spoke slightly drunkenly. "My personal driver will take care of me."

"I'm sure."

Weidman leaned down closer to Valora and spoke softly.

"Dinner still on tomorrow after the interviews?" She asked.

"Of course," Valora responded with just enough awareness to smile suggestively.

"See you tomorrow night then."

Weidman turned her back to the room with her heart aflutter wondering why the hell she felt the way she did.

Ivan Barnett Victor of the 85th Hunger Games: 39M

Saturday Afternoon 2:00PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 1 Day 18hrs

"I want to know what the hell's going on with Mockingjay," Echo Tiller complained a little too loudly. "He was going to meet with us Tuesday night, then he disappears because of personal security? That seems a bit strange to me."

"You think someone found out about his arrangement with us?" Mikaela Latour asked quietly.

"I don't know, but whatever happened wasn't good."

"Hey," Alexandros Minades hissed. "Keep it down Echo. This isn't the place to draw attention to us."

"Hell Alex, there's too much attention on us now as is," Yew LaBrie added. "A bunch of Hunger Games victors in a restaurant. The Capitolites are staring at us like we're hot strippers in a shitty club."

Yew puffed on his cigarette, blowing smoke across the table.

"I have to agree with Yew on this one Echo," Ivan said. "We're in this crowded restaurant, keeps us from being overheard for the most part, but there's no need to draw too much attention."

Ivan held out a hand to the younger man next to him.

"Can I have a smoke?"

Yew shrugged and handed a cigarette over to Ivan, lighting it for him when it was between his lips. Ivan inhaled the smoke and joined his friend in covering the table in the gray gas. He took a sip from his beer, smacking his lips gratefully. This was his favorite part of mentoring. He loved getting the opportunity to drink good beer.

"Any bets on the scores?" Anaiah opened the conversation again, trying to steer the group in a direction of lighter conversation.

"Jason scores the highest," Cato stated quickly, then passed by her question without a second thought. "But coming back to the original point I think we've just got to wait and see. I don't like it any more than you do Echo, but we have to wait for Mockingjay. He has the plan, and he has the resources. Our job is to implement that plan in our own districts. We can't take drastic action now."

"What drastic action could we take anyway?" Alexandros asked at large. "We don't know anything."

"We could poke around a little," Anaiah said with a shrug.

"Poke around where Anaiah?" Alexandros replied. "Seriously, when I said we don't know anything, I meant that literally. But we can be sure if things go wrong while we're 'poking around' as you put it, then we'll all end up dead."

"But we can't stand by and do nothing," Echo insisted.

"I'm afraid that's our only choice Echo," Ivan said, blowing smoke across the table. "We have to wait it out and let Mockingjay figure out whatever's going wrong. Then we can begin work."

"He doesn't have long," Mikaela said. "We'll be here two more weeks at the most, and probably less than that. If he doesn't hurry up, we might lose our chance permanently.

"Mockingjay told us he can't leave the Capitol," Mikaela continued. "And it could be a long time before this much of our group is here to participate in discussions, because meeting when we're back in the districts is impossible. We're prisoners just as much as he is."

"That's why we have to act!" Echo stated in a harsh whisper. "If we don't do something now, we won't get the chance to do anything later. We'll be stuck and this rebellion will never happen!"

"Shut up!" Cato snapped, and instantly, the table complied with his demand.

Cato was something of an unofficial leader for their group. He had spent the most time in the Capitol, despite not being the oldest of their group. Cato also had a mind for strategy, similar to Ivan's own mind, but Ivan knew he himself had never been the leading type. There was also the fact that Cato had been the first of their group contacted by Mockingjay and the one to recruit the rest of them.

Their group consisted of more than the mentors sitting at the table though. There were of course the von Brandts, providing financial backing, and according to Cato, there were others in the districts, previous victors and otherwise who were a part of their group. Yet, Ivan was aware of nothing about these people, as he hadn't met most of them.

"Arguing isn't going to solve any problems," Cato continued once the table was sufficiently silent. "I understand that some of us are getting antsy, but we've come too far now to get caught over something stupid. Don't let your emotions get the best of you now and drag you into some situation you can't get yourself out of. So, all of you calm down and eat your lunch."

Just as Cato spoke, two waiters approached the table bearing trays of food. It smelled wonderful, and Ivan only wished he could eat food like this more often. Even though he could afford the very best of what was available in District 7, this food still far surpassed that, which Ivan found odd, considering that the Capitol imported all its goods from the districts. It was probably because they had access to more spices and flavorings because the goods were all conglomerated in one place.

The conversation dwindled as they tucked into their meals. Ivan watched Echo say a quick prayer, then tap the sign of the cross over his body. Religion was odd in Ivan's mind. God hadn't provided that meal. Some ranchers in District 10 had raised a cow, then killed it and sent it to a butcher who cut and cured the meat. Then it was shipped across Panem in a refrigerated train car to the Capitol where it was trucked across the city to this restaurant, then cooked by some sweaty chef in the back and dropped on Echo's plate. God had nothing to do with it.

Ivan shrugged as he chomped down a bite of his own steak. Echo's faith may have been rather odd, but Ivan could still work with the man. Echo was, quite frankly, badass, and he was pretty smart too, despite being fooled by mystic bullshit.

It was odd how their group, in which little was held in common between members, could work together. He supposed it was their sharing of a common goal that held them together, not the people themselves. Sure, Ivan could call many of them friends, but that didn't mean he would be willing to put everything on the line alongside them. Yet, because they all wanted one thing, they could call themselves brothers and sisters in arms.

Even though the goal seemed out of reach, an impossible dream, Ivan felt sure that they would achieve it. One day, during Ivan's lifetime, the Capitol would fall, and Ivan would personally ensure that it did.

Mikaela Latour Victor of the 92nd Hunger Games: 33F

Friday Evening 6:30PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 1 Day 13hrs 30mins

Every time she glanced over at Eydis and Murchad, Mikaela could feel the memories of her time here fifteen years ago. She remembered sitting on the couch on the first floor of this building, her head laying on Vicente's chest and his arms wrapped around her lovingly. She could never forget those memories, the wholeness she felt, and the strength she drew from her love.

Back then, it seemed to be the only part of her life to be important at all, even as the Games she'd trained her whole life for approached. Vicente became the most important part of her world, her rock, and to him, she gave her heart.

Now though, as Mikaela watched her young protégés snuggled up close to each other she felt the empty sort of pain that only a widow could feel. Mikaela didn't see a young couple with a future ahead of them. She saw only the pain they would experience as a result of their new relationship. The Games would turn from the great culmination of a life of training, into a living hell that, even if one of them came home victorious, would be inescapable.

"I felt like I could've done better to be honest," Murchad commented as the TV ran its way through a series of commercials. "My nerves might've gotten the best of me."

"I'm sure you did fine Murchad," Alexandros replied. "If there's one thing I know about you, it's that you set your expectations too high. Your score doesn't determine your placement in the Games. A higher score can help you win more sponsors, but it doesn't really mean anything when it comes to the Games."

"Alexandros is right Murchad," Mikaela agreed. "If you don't score as high as you want, don't sweat it."

Murchad mumbled to himself while Eydis squeezed his hand comfortingly. Shockingly, Eydis seemed the more comfortable of the two, and she was normally the nervous one.

"Welcome back viewers," greeted the familiar practiced voice of Amethyst Stadler, the Capitol's premier TV personality.

Mikaela remembered the days when that distinction belonged to Caesar Flickerman, but sadly, the old man had finally passed away after years of faithful work. Amethyst rose to take his place a couple of years later after proving herself as a competent interviewer and commentator. Mikaela found Amethyst to lack some of the magic that Caesar seemed to bring to the job.

"Tonight, I once again have the great pleasure of hosting the annual score reveal show," Amethyst continued.

She introduced various other 'Games Experts' who proceeded to rattle on about which tributes they picked to score highest, which ones they picked to win the Games, and which tributes were 'dark horses'. Mikaela didn't much care for the commentary. It was pretty much irrelevant, and Mikaela only cared about the scores.

After another set of commercials, the commentary crew finally seemed prepared to reveal the scores. The wall immediately behind Stadler and the others flashed a graphic of each tribute, with their picture and their score, providing an appealing picture for the viewer.

"So, starting with Tabby Gold from District 1, an eight," Amethyst pronounced. "A ten for Santana Perez, Cassie Dawson with ten as well, and wow, eleven for the duelist Jason Green. So three scores of ten or more for the top four tributes.

"Ayla Ithico from three scores a five, a seven for her district partner Tesler Valdes. Then, rounding out the career districts, Eydis Agnarsson with a nine and Murchad McNamara with ten."

Mikaela saw Murchad breathe a sigh of relief. Eydis slapped him on the arm happily.

"I told you you'd be just fine," Alexandros ribbed jokingly.

"Eira Carielle scores five, and a three for Edison Oswald. Five for Liz Adler and Nebraska Wilmington as well. Make it three straight fives, Brooke Fisher has one as well, then a nine for Tyto Winter. Very impressive.

"Mila Arkwright from District 8 scores four, and a five for Scott Winston. Good scores from District 9. Tanya Mills and William Young both get sevens. And even better scores for ten, a seven for 'Butch' Pelt, and an eight for Rel Imperatore.

"Tessa Scotch gets a five, a seven for her husband Matt. Another seven for Kendra Shogana, and rounding out with a five for Peter Vogel.

"So, a fascinating set of tributes this year to be sure, anything you find to be particularly noteworthy guys?" Amethyst questioned the other commentators.

"I'd like to start by mentioning that fourteen of twenty-four tributes scored at least a seven," One of the men spoke. "There was a feeling that we could have a particularly high scoring class this year, and that certainly proves to be true. We haven't seen that many tributes with a score of seven or more since the seventy-seventh Games thirty years ago."

"And this is also the tenth highest scoring class in the history of the Hunger Games in terms of average at six point seven nine," another man said. "Eight tributes with an eight or higher, all very impressive stuff."

"High scores usual indicate a shorter Games," Amethyst said. "For classes with an average of lower than six, the average length is fifteen point three five days, at higher than six it's thirteen point nine. Does that trend continue this year, or will we see a longer Games?"

"I'd think more along the lines of a ten-to-twelve-day Games Amethyst," the first man said. "With this many strong careers and outer district tributes, I'd suspect most of the deaths this year to be caused by the hands of the tributes."

"Inside sources tell me there could be some trouble in the career alliance," Amethyst replied. "A career group working well together tends to be devastating to the other tributes. They can move efficiently and effectively cut down the number of tributes in the Games, but a conflicted career group is not as organized or threatening to outer district tributes. If that's true could we see the three year trend of good performance from outer district tributes continue?"

"With four scores of ten or higher, I don't really see that being a problem this year," the second man answered. "Even if the career team is less efficient than usual, the individual caliber of each tribute should be enough to overcome that."

Mikaela tuned out the rest of the conversation. While it was mildly interesting to hear the predictions from the commentators and to learn of the different stats regarding the talent of this year's tribute class, it didn't really make a difference. The Games would not be affected by anything the speakers said.

There was very little left to do now, and only the interviews stood between now and the beginning of the one-hundred-seventh Hunger Games. Mikaela's heart raced even now, and maybe even faster than when she had prepared to take on the Games herself.

Murchad, now that the broadcast had revealed his score, seemed much calmer, but Eydis had picked up his nervousness right where he'd left it. Perhaps the reality was beginning to weigh on her mind already.

"Not too much left to go now," Alexandros said. "Get some rest guys. You don't want to stay up late before the Games begin. Sleep can be hard to come by in the arena."

Devo SIS Agent: 38M

Friday Night 9:00PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 1 Day 11hrs

"Well that's interesting isn't it?" Devo spoke softly to himself as he peered through the set of binoculars.

He had kept his eyes on President Viktor, just as ordered by Director Mansoor, all day long, and Viktor had not yet exited the Capitol building. He was busy with meetings as far as Devo could tell, though his interest in Viktor had begun to wane.

After all the hype from Mansoor, Devo had expected a little more mischief from the President, but it seemed that was not to be. Viktor was very well-behaved as always, and whatever messages Viktor had passed back and forth were well-hidden. Devo couldn't tap Viktor's phone.

However, with a little help from Mansoor and Finch's Machine, Devo was able to eventually gain access, using the Machine as a link between their two devices. He read through the messages Mansoor told him about, finding them to be both suspicious and vague, an annoying combination.

But now that the meetings were finally over, a message appeared on Viktor's phone.

We need to meet. There's trouble.: R

What kind?: V

Can't talk now, meet me at location 3 asap.: R

So something was wrong? The question was: what?

Viktor promptly hopped up from his seat and grabbed his coat before exiting the room on his way to the west elevator. That meant he was heading for the west entrance, and that meant that Devo had to move quickly to catch up with him.

His feet carried him inconspicuously to the west entrance of the Capitol building, just barely fast enough to witness Viktor with a hood overhead turning the corner down Main Street. Devo speed walked after him, confident he wouldn't be spotted with Viktor unable to see him around the corner.

As Devo rounded the corner, he spotted Viktor's hood amongst the crowd. Most Capitolites didn't wear hoods thankfully. It made Viktor more noticeable, though Devo knew he didn't wear the hood to make himself less obvious. Viktor wore the hood to hide his face, not wanting to draw attention from the Capitolites on the street who would recognize him instantly.

Viktor moved quickly with complete focus on what was in front of him which made Devo's job even easier. The hood helped Devo tremendously. Not only did it make it easy to pick Viktor out of the crowd, but it also meant that it would be more difficult for Viktor to use his peripheral vision to spot Devo with the reflective doors and windows around them.

It was about ten minutes later that Viktor entered Capitol Park, a large centrally located plot of land with many beautiful trees and lush green grass. Devo kept his distance from Viktor as the President sat on a wooden bench vaguely near a skinny dark-skinned man.

Quickly, Devo located a relatively secluded spot where he would be hidden from Viktor's line of sight, but not so far away that he would become unable to keep an eye on Viktor. It was a comfortable outdoor bar, and Devo ordered a margarita while he watched and listened in on the conversation with use of his earpiece.

"What's wrong Ronaldo?" Viktor questioned.

"The others are getting antsy," Ronaldo said. "I'm worried they might take action before we're ready."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know. I'm not exactly sure what they plan to do, but any action could be dangerous for them and for us at this point. We need to ensure they stay quiet and keep their heads down."

"Isn't that your job Ronaldo?" Viktor asked pointedly. "I thought you were supposed to handle that."

"I think it might be time for you to meet them before things go wrong," Ronaldo insisted.

Viktor paused and sighed, staring off into space seemingly deep in thought. Devo could imagine the expression on the President's face though he couldn't see it. It was one of slight frustration but philosophical contemplation.

"I can't meet them now," Viktor returned slowly, pronouncing his words with measured precision. "After the near attack on Tuesday which was answered unusually quickly, I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to reveal myself. They found out about the bomber before he could even act, preempted his attack."

"What's your point? You're safe, aren't you?"

"I'm more concerned with how they knew. It wasn't just luck, and I doubt it was good police work. I think there's something shadier going on here."

"And it has something to do with the attack," Ronaldo concluded.

"No," Viktor responded. "I doubt it has anything to do with that. I'm certain it has something to do with the response to the attack though, and not even the capture of the bomber. I mean the location of the bomber. Speaking as a former Peacekeeper, the most difficult part of catching a criminal is finding out where he's hiding and what his plan is, not arresting him. That's what I want to know about, because from what I've been told, the information they discovered about the bomber shouldn't have been possible for them to uncover."

"The Capitol knows a lot about its citizens," Ronaldo said.

"There's knowing a lot, then there's knowing everything," Viktor said. "They're very different things."

"Why haven't you been notified?" Ronaldo asked. "You are the President after all."

"I'm in charge of very little Ronaldo. There's a group of people behind the scenes that run the show. I don't know who they are, or anything about their goals, but I do know that they're up to something. Things are different since Tuesday, and I can't tell why. It's just a feeling that I can't shake, like I'm being watched all the time."

Did he know about the Machine? If Viktor did know, that spelled trouble for their little group. But, even if he didn't, Viktor's presence alone was becoming a little bit problematic.

"I know what you mean," Ronaldo replied. "I feel like I have to be even more careful than usual."

"I think we need to dig deeper before I even consider meeting the others. Ask your contacts and see what you can find out. Let me know if you find anything."

Viktor stood from his spot on the bench leaving Ronaldo alone. Devo too stood, finishing off his margarita and leaving a tip on the table. He ventured back out into the street on the tail of the President once again.

There it is score reveals and Capitol plot points completed. No tribute POVs just to keep the numbers even so each tribute features in two POVs during the pregames phase. There will be tribute POVs next chapter, don't worry.

Hopefully you all enjoyed this one, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on the scores and Capitol plot if you're willing to share.

Thanks for reading ya'll.

-Red