I do not own 'Hunger Games' or anything related.


So what do I do while the tributes are training for the next few days? Well, for the last 15 years what I did was just get drunk from the different bars along with Chaff, but before that I tried to get sponsors. Sponsors would start to come on the first actual day of the Hunger Games to sign up, but before that you had to actually find potential sponsors who were willing to have money spent on gifts for them in the Arena. You didn't just select anyone to be a sponsor. These had to be the elite of the Capitol; the wealthy and the super wealthy. Mind you, part of the reason I gave up on trying to help tributes was trying to get sponsors. Oh sure, after my games when I came freshly out of a Hunger Games the elite were interested in what I had to say, even though I had to work out as I went along what to do as a mentor, but as the years went by, defeat after defeat, fewer and fewer Capitol citizens came to the headquarters where they would sign up for sponsorship until no one came to my stand. Those who did accept me into their homes and acted like they were listening to what I had to say I think were more keen just to have a celebrity in their house, something they could brag to their friends, that Haymitch Abernathy was over, even fill me with alcohol so that I could amuse them and their friends with my drunken antics, alcohol that I gladly accepted. But these people didn't come to the headquarters either. The Capitol elite gave up on District 12 long before I did. So as you can imagine I was at a disadvantage, having not sought any sponsor for 15 years compared to other mentors, especially those from Districts 1, 2 and 4, who had more consistent wins between them and who had long cultivated a network of sponsors. So my first potential sponsor for the day had to be the wealthiest person I knew who was going to be the most open to what I had to say. I came to the house of one such potential sponsor that morning. Getting ready I knocked on the door. An Avox came to open it. I was led to a waiting area. The old lady, Attia Walker (Who preferred to be referred to as 'Atty' last time I was here) later came to greet me.

"Why, Haymitch Abernathy! What a lovely surprise seeing you here! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"I couldn't stay away forever!"

We walked towards each other to kiss each other on the cheek. Before doing so, she sniffed my breath.

"Hmm. Not as strong as I expected."

I noticed another figure coming down the stairs. It was Finnick.

"Oh Finnick dear, I won't be too long."

In other words, you don't think my tributes will be worth thinking of. We'll see about that. Finnick gave me a desperate look that seemed to say help me.

We sat down. She sighed.

"Time has not been kind to you, my boy. I still remember the handsome young man who came to my doorstep all those years ago. Now you're a balding, chubby middle-aged man. Not that you already seemed to be growing a gut the last time I saw you. Oh well!"

The avox came over with a couple of wine glasses.

"Wine, Haymitch? Oh why am I asking, of course you do!"

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted. But I needed to keep my head clear if I wanted to negotiate effectively. Mind you it would be rude to reject her offer….

So I took one glass, and sipped it rather than drink the whole thing.

"Is it not to your liking?" Attia asked.

"It's delicious," I replied.

"Well if you're not drinking the whole thing in one gulp, it means you must believe that your tributes have a chance. You know, I met your District's escort last night. And do you know what she was saying, as if trying to be clever? She said that they may come from the coal district, but if you put enough pressure on coal, you get pearls!"

Attia roared with laughter.

"Of course, no one had the heart to tell her that you only get pearls in oyster shells so we all just humoured the girl! Honestly, it's not wonder you've had little luck with tributes all these years with brainless staff like that!"

I had to suppress my anger. I may not be fond of Effie most of the time, but even I didn't like these comments Attia was saying. Nevertheless, I was counting on her to give me her sponsorship.

"I'm sure she meant diamonds."

"In District 1, they can actually make diamonds! You live in the coal district, Haymitch, have you ever known diamonds to be among the coal? Well, let's see if this year's tributes are diamonds rather than more coal. So show me!"

Attia behaved like a girl excitedly waiting for a present as I gave her the pad that had the boy and girl's stats.

"My, my. Such beautiful children. Especially the boy."

I could see her draw her finger across the boy's mouth.

"It would be such a shame to see such pretty faces get ruined. I would certainly like to keep them safe."

Yes I know exactly how you would keep them safe, you dirty old woman!

"Mind you though, the Tributes from 1 and 2 are also pretty. And they have fighting spirit too. You know, your friend Brutus came to see me last night."

Brutus. If there was one thing he wasn't it was my friend, and it seemed just like before he was one step ahead of me.

"So tell me, Haymitch. Are these two fighters too?"

"Peeta is strong. He can carry as much as 50 kg with ease."

"Oo, 50, that is impressive. Mind you Cato from District 2 looks pretty strong. And given his size could probably carry 100 kg!"

"He can wrestle."

"How well?"

"He made it into the school's championship."

"But what was his rank?"

"High."

"What was it, Haymitch?"

"…2."

"2nd. Oh dear. You know, Cato is an expect swordsman. He's also good with a spear."

It was illegal to train for the games, but that didn't stop the tributes from 1, 2 and 4 from doing so. And their potential sponsors didn't care how they honed their skills if it meant assuring them victory in the arena.

"I doubt the boy has ever used a weapon."

"Not that he's told me. He might be keeping it a secret. But I know the girl is handy with a knife. She threw one once in a wall and it got stuck right in."

"Clove from District 2 is an expert at throwing knives. Knives plural, if you've noted. Anything else?"

There wasn't anything else. Nothing else I was willing to tell her. I could tell that I was losing her interest. And why wouldn't I? All I've presented is one who's a second-rate wrestler who can carry heavy objects, and the other who threw a knife at a wall the one time. Compare that to a trained swordsman like Cato or a knife thrower like Clove then their feats evaporate. Attia sighed.

"I'm very sorry, Haymitch, but if that's all there is then-"

"She can shoot."

"-I'm sorry?"

"The girl. She can shoot. With a bow and arrow."

I meant to keep this a secret. The fact that District 1, 2 and 4 tributes train illegally may be one of the worst kept secrets, but knowing that someone outside of those districts knew how to handle a weapon might raise a few issues.

"And is she good?"

What was it that the boy said?

"She's excellent," I told her, "She can take down prey as large as deer, and her aim is so good that she can shoot something as small as a rabbit's or squirrel's eye without harming the body."

"Oh deer. The poor squirrels."

Poor squirrels? That's rich, coming from someone who watches children get slaughtered for entertainment! But even so, I got her interest.

"Very well, Haymitch. I'll consider them. Oh Castoria!"

The avox returned.

"Tell Finnick that I'll be far too busy today. Oh Haymitch. Feel free to drop by tomorrow. Me and the girls will be having a get together."

I had to suppress a smile as I nodded. That meant she was interested in what I was saying and wanted to hear more. Furthermore, it was a chance to meet more potential sponsors. I got up to leave.

"Just one more question. Where did the girl learn to use a bow and arrow? I didn't think there was much opportunity to use one in District 12."

This was the question I wanted to avoid. Fortunately, I had a few defences.

"Where did Clove learn to throw knives?"

"Well I assumed she just threw kitchen knives about. Not much to do in District 2, I suppose."

"And what about Cato? Being an expert swordsman?"

"Well he probably learnt that in training."

"Oh. Sorry, I thought you said Brutus came to you last night, before training."

Realising that I had caught her out, Atia smiled.

"Touche, Mr Abernathy. Touche."


So this is how I spent the rest of the day, buttering up potential sponsors, working first on my oldest and richest contacts before spreading outwards. Male and female, rich and super rich, young and old, they had different reasons for wanting to listen to me, whether it was because they wanted to appear generous by helping the poor unfortunate tributes (whether their concern was genuine or not), or they wanted to brag that they sponsored the winner, or even those lustful, who wanted to own them if they won. See, something that's not officially known is that attractive victors get their bodies sold to the wealthy. The most popular tribute these days is Finnick Odair. Most people believed that he has romantic flings every year in the capitol. What they don't realise is that he has in fact been sold to them to do what they want. See, he wasn't at Atia's house by choice. She was just his latest owner. I might have suffered the same fate if Snow had anyone to use against me. I felt dirty dealing with people like them, as if I was handing the tributes over for sex. Mind you, it's still their choice (And given that they're loved ones are being threatened, how could they say no?), but if it meant getting money from them to save their lives, then what does it matter where it came from? To each I talked about their strengths, even exaggerated them at times, the boy's strength and resilience, the girl's killer instincts. I was a bit more discreet with the girl's ability to shoot, and only being more specific if the sponsor had already revealed that they knew that some tributes trained so that they couldn't exactly use this information against me when I knew that they knew that tributes trained illegally.


While finding sponsors, I wondered how the tributes were doing in the training. I still remembered mine. There were two types of station, one was combat, the other surviving in the arena. I decided that the survival stations were more important. I did well at the edible insects station (Along with edible plants, already having some rudimentary knowledge of which fruit and plants were safe to eat). In fact, I grasped fairly well all of the knowledge that the trainers bestowed upon us. It was putting what I learnt into practice that was the issue, making sure that the knots were tied correctly for snares, that the shelter was set up in a way that it didn't end up falling apart, or trying to make a fire out of rubbing sticks together. Camouflage? The best I could do was cover myself with mud. What was even more annoying was how Maysilee Donner was good at every one of these! After losing my patience with the fish hooks I moved on to the combat stations. I went for the one that I knew I would have the most difficulty with. Archery. The bow and arrow had never been my friends. I tried them once before, and I ended up throwing them on the ground in frustration. But here my survival might depend on me knowing how to use them. However, even with this determination, I still had trouble using them, getting the arrow lined up, holding it back enough and aiming for my target at the same time. My arrows struck the ground several times, much to the amusement of the onlooking careers. I decided to move on after that. I was much better with axes and maces. Basically any weapon that required bashing your opponent. I was also good with a sword, which was like a giant knife. Spears and tridents required more practice, and I couldn't quite get my spear into my mannequin on the first try, instead sliding across the floor. Time to move on. I excelled at wrestling and hand to hand combat, having some practice with this, although I quickly learnt the difference with practising with someone who wasn't your friend. I left the weapon I was most comfortable with last. The knife. At first I wanted to avoid this station, so that the careers wouldn't see how good I was with them, but after watching other tributes train at this station I decided I could learn a couple of things. Indeed, I found there was more to knife fighting than just swinging it around. I also wanted to practice knife throwing. I threw a few before I finally got the target, then deliberately missed afterwards so that it looked like a fluke.

"You know, you seemed to be struggling with some of the stations," Maysilee told me after dinner.

"Oh, like you're little Miss Perfect," I retorted, thinking that her comment was an insult.

Whereas she was really good at certain stations, I noticed that she wasn't much of a fighter. Despite looking angry, she restrained herself.

"I was just going to give you some advice."

I laughed.

"Should you really be giving out advice to your competitor? What was it, by the way?"

"Try to remain calm."

Somehow, being told to remain calm only made me less calm.

"How about you try to keep your advice to yourself in future?" I snapped.

At this she lost her temper with me.

"Just what is your problem, Haymitch? Why are you such a jerk?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you think we were all here to make friends rather than kill each other?"

"Have you never heard of allies? You'll never make allies with that attitude of yours!"

"Yeah. I'm not interested in making allies."

"The careers make allies."

"And look how that turns out every year! Do you really want to make an ally with someone who will end up slitting your throat? Thanks for the advice."

I walked away.

"You know, I don't know what Mel sees in you!"

"Welcome to the club!" I shouted back.

After slamming the door I fell on my bed, fuming. After calming down, I started to think that was an odd comment she made about Mel, as if she was friendly with him, when as a rule Seam and merchant kids keep to themselves. It was even more odd that she called him Mel, when only his friends called him that. I didn't think that Mel was on friendly terms with any of the merchant kids.

Although…I thought back to his old man's funeral, and how his mom was talking to a blond haired woman…


Back in the present, at dinner I discussed with the tributes over how training went, how the other tributes fared, and if any of the game makers noticed them. I would relay a version of this information to potential sponsors over the next couple of days, bragging about how the boy excelled at hand to hand combat despite having never done it before, and that he was a master camouflager. The girl? Well, I could tell them she was good with a spear. But I also talked more openly about her archery skills, as the sponsors would just assume she displayed that during training. I also talked about how she was so good that a game maker had noticed her. At the same time, though, I told the two tributes to avoid appearing excellent, and gave them tips about what to do when together. Effie was also telling them how to act politely and gentlemanly and lady like. The boy at least was patient with us, but I could tell that between the two of us, the girl was getting surly and fed up.


About 25 years earlier, I considered Maysilee's advice despite rejecting it before. The next day, I tried to remain calm as I focused on the stations I needed practice. Eventually, I was able to make a fire with different materials. However with other stations that involved some sort of tying and knots I was still having problems. And I still couldn't get the arrow to meet its target! I did improve with spear and trident throwing, though.

At the end of the second day, I wondered if my problem wasn't that I wasn't good with delicate things. Maybe it's because I have too much anger. Well, don't I have good reasons to be angry? After everything I've suffered, having a drunk for a dad, my Ma abandoning me just for saving my little brother? And here I am having been selected, ripped from everyone I cared about, being prepared for slaughter. But then I started thinking that there must be some happy moments in my life, right? Most of them revolved around my little brother, or even my Ma before I killed my old man, when we were alone, and he was still at the Hob. I especially thought of my girl Rachelle, and the moments of bliss we had together. Mel? Hmmm. That was a complicated relationship. Whereas he was certainly my best friend, it was a friendship attached with some of the most angry moments in my memory. So the final day training, I thought of playing with my little brother, Ma reading or singing to me when I was little, or Rachelle's lips pressed on mine while tying up several types of knots. I certainly managed them that day! Later, when I went to the archery station, and as I pulled the bowstring, trying to align the arrow with my target, I closed my eyes. The memory of my last embrace with Rachelle came to mind. I opened my eyes, and let the arrow fly. It hit the bullseye.

"YES!" I shouted, making a fist pump.

Feeling a little embarrassed, I looked around. A number of onlooking careers were definitely frowning. I even saw Maysilee looking at me. I glared at her, thinking what do you want, before realising she was smiling. I quickly looked away, feeling guilty over glaring at her, before smiling back in her direction.


It was the tributes' third day. This afternoon, they would be showing their chosen skills to the game makers. I wondered how it was going. During mine, I of course chose the knife station. I decided that knife throwing would be the most impressive feat. Taking one of the twelve knives, aiming it at the target, I wondered if I should have spent more time practicing instead of being confident after the one throw. I threw the knife, and found I could still hit the target. I threw another knife, and another, and another. I started to enjoy myself, throwing the knives at different parts of the mannequin's body; head, hands, feet, heart, shoulders. By the time I got to my final knife I wondered if perhaps it was such a good idea to throw knives at non-lethal parts of the body. I turned to look at the game makers, worried that I was looking unimpressive, perhaps even missing my targets, when I saw they weren't watching. Instead they were focused on their feast. I wanted to think that I didn't care that they weren't paying attention to me, but I did! Here I was, trying to survive, and they weren't even paying attention to me! I watched them drinking and laughing, and all I could think about was my old man, or Raybearta. Drunks who are too busy drinking to take notice of the children they were supposed to take care of! I gripped the handle of my knife. Walking towards them, I was tempted to hurl the knife at them, not actually hitting one of them, but just above one of their heads, to show that I am here. But then I had a better idea. Taking the mannequin, I threw it at a weapon rack causing so much noise that it startled the game makers, looking in the direction of the racket. I roared as I charged at the mannequin, pouncing on it, stabbing it repeatedly through the neck. I looked up. I definitely had their attention now. Should there be something else I should do? Sticking out my tongue, I slid it up and down the blade.

Hmm. Perhaps the blade licking was going too far.

For a moment, the game makers just stared at me, before one of them, the head game maker I think, said "You can go now."

Getting up, I threw the knife without effort into the neck of the mannequin as I walked out.


The boy entered the room. I can tell from the way he planted himself on the chair with his arms crossed that he was fuming. Probably for the same reason my fellow district 12 tributes were upset, feeling disregarded by the game makers when they should have been paying attention to them.

I heard the door open later again, and knew it was the girl.

"Katniss!" Effie called for her.

"Katniss?" Cinna also called when there was no answer.

I turned around and caught a glimpse of the girl running down the corridor and out of view. A few moments later I heard a door slam.