Lanai Hollister, 21

Head Gamemaker of Panem

"The Careers certainly have been having a hard year," Graciela muses, narrowly avoiding splashing red wine on her pristine, white couch. "A hard decade, in fact."

"Hm," Lanai answers, eyes averted from the screen before her. Instead, her eyes wander to the picture windows overlooking the Capitol. Lights assault her eyes as day seven of the Hunger Games celebrations commences. In the courtyard below them a late night—or early morning by now—party is slowly waning out. The only people who still remain are the richest of the rich, bartering with a group of Victors for sponsorships. Lanai watches with detached interest as Iara Clarion attempts to convince a luxuries mogul to back one of her tributes.

She would be inclined to say that the Careers have had a pretty good decade thus far. They've already garnered two Victors, whether they were true Careers or not.

"Lanai?" Graciela says.

Lanai turns her gaze back to the holograph screen between them, where Shad is helping a newly bandaged Calista walk back to the Cornucopia. She eyes Graciela through the hologram as the camera angle changes to show a closeup of Calista's dangerously pale face. "Is something wrong, Madam President?"

Graciela chews her lip before she says, "I've been doing a lot of thinking since Silas died."

Lanai perks up at that, ignoring the negotiations going on in the patio below her. "Oh?"

"I've been thinking about…slowly phasing out the Games."

For a moment Lanai is reminded of that night, when she had stood before Graciela's ostentatious wood desk, and she had messed with a cup full of pens, and she had knocked the pens to the ground and it had saved her life—

"Is that so?" Lanai says. "I think…I think that's an excellent idea."

Graciela smiles, a weight seeming to lift off her shoulders. "It's a very new idea, and it will take a long time, but if I play my cards right I think it will work. Of course, there are things that will stand in our way…but I think it can be done. A hundred and fifty years is more than enough punishment, don't you think?"

Lanai nods. "When do you plan to announce this to the public? It could quell unrest in the Districts."

Unrest is a good thing. Lanai needs unrest in order for the plan to go off like it must, but if Graciela is going to get rid of the Hunger Games, then maybe the plan won't be necessary at all. Maybe a full-blown rebellion with war and death and bombs won't have to happen. With Graciela in the seat of power then maybe they can start to rid the government of its corruption quietly. It's a strange thought—that maybe what she has spent years working for will never need to come to fruition. It's almost disappointing. People have died for this cause—Nayra, Silas, thousands of people in the Districts. For it not to happen feels disingenuous.

"We'll take baby steps to get there," Graciela answers. "My thought is that starting next year, we'll allow both tributes from one district to win. What do you think?"

It's not as drastic as Lanai likes it, but if Graciela wants to take things slow, then Lanai will let her. Whatever gets them to ridding the world of the Hunger Games. "I think it could work." She drops her voice an octave, eyes zeroing in on the holoscreen between them, which now shows Alistair McKinley interviewing a statistics analyst. They discuss each of the remaining tributes' odds, their training scores and ages and alliances. "Are you not worried about Ezra?"

Graciela sits up, wine glass almost tipping again. "Ezra worries me for many reasons, Lanai. He is a devout supporter of the Hunger Games. I'm not sure he'll take it very well, but he's made a grave mistake in refusing the Snow name. It would have given him credibility, where now he's just a random child with no bearing on our government system."

"That's a good point," Lanai says, eyes drifting back to the picture windows behind her. Most of the wealthy and Victors have moved on by now, although a few still remain. "It's going to be a pleasure to work with you, Madam President, until the very end of the Games."

Graciela smiles and lifts her glass. "A toast, to the beginning of the end of the Hunger Games. May it usher in a new, prosperous era of peace in Panem."

Lanai clicks her glass again the president's and pretends to take a drink. She's in an important position now, and it has barely been a week in Silas's assassination. One can never be too careful.

"Oh, dear," Graciela says. "Look at the time. It's nearly one a.m. I should be off to bed. Good night, Miss Hollister."

"Good night, Madam President." Lanai leans back against the white couch, watching as the screen flits across various tributes, showing many of them asleep or on watch. She pours out her wine glass into a nearby potted plant and stands up, turning the holoscreen off as she leaves. The courtyard below is almost empty, but the people she is looking for still remain.

When she arrives on the patio, the wealthy Capitol elite swarm around her, congratulating her on her promotion and offering condolences for Silas's death. Lanai waves them off with forced pleasantries as she makes her way to the Victor she's looking for.

Meadow Quince stands at a table, miscellaneous drink in her hand. She watches one of the screens by the bar, where Bayou and Scoria are heading back to the Cornucopia. Dark circles ring eyes red from crying.

When Lanai approaches she looks to her, gaze questioning. "Miss Hollister," she says in a tight voice. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"This may come as a strange request," Lanai says. "But I need you to come with me."

Meadow's face drains of a color, but she sets her drink down and dutifully follows Lanai off of the patio. "Is this about an…appointment?" Meadow asks. "I was under the impression that President Purdue banned those."

Lanai raises an eyebrow, having heard nothing of this. "No, not all. I merely need to speak with you. But not here. It's about your tributes."

"Tributes? But Quinn is dead. If you want to talk about Ashe, you should be getting Brice—"

"But I didn't get Brice. I need to speak with you," Lanai says.

She leads Meadow out of the Presidential Mansion, where a discreet, black car waits on the curb. Meadow doesn't seem fazed by the sight of it.

Once they are in the safety of the car, Lanai nods to the driver, and without a word they're off.

Meadow looks around uncertainly. "What's going on? Have I done something wrong?"

Lanai doesn't miss the way her voice shakes. She knows Meadow has a young daughter back home and once had a husband. "No. No, it's nothing like that. You're here because I've done something dangerous. So tell me, Meadow, have you ever wondered if we could change Panem?"

Meadow tilts her head like a confused dog. "Where is this going, Miss Hollister?"

Of course, Lanai thinks. She's trying not to incriminate herself.

"Nothing you say is going to leave this car," Lanai says. "In fact, I'm going to be entirely honest with you. I'm organizing a rebellion."

Meadow gapes at her for a long moment before she laughs uncomfortably. "That's a…funny joke, Miss Hollister."

"It's not a joke," Lanai snaps, beginning to get impatient. "We're going right now to a secure facility in the belly of the Capitol where Quinn Bayers and Lana Meadows are being cared for in the hopes of their survival. You understand now, or do I have to spell it out for you?"

"You…what?"

"Quinn Bayers is alive," Lanai says. "It's a complicated story as to how we got to this point, but I've been working with several underground rebel groups from the Districts for years now to put this all together. In fact, rebellion has been decades in the making. Several other Victors are in on it. I'm sure you've heard about it."

Meadow chews her lip in contemplation. "I…yes, I have heard of it. I stayed out of it—I would never forgive myself if something happened to Floryn."

"Like getting sent into the Hunger Games?" Lanai says. "We all know how much the Capitol likes it when the children of Victors get Reaped. Your daughter will be twelve next year, won't she?"

"She will," Meadow says defeatedly. "You said Quinn is still alive?"

"Indeed he is," Lanai says. "Lana is as well, but she's still in critical condition. The doctors say it's touch and go until they can get her stabilized."

She leaves Meadow to stew for a few moments, turning her gaze on the blacked-out windows. She wonders if any big developments have happened in the Games since she left. She doubts it, since it's the middle of the night. But she doesn't like not knowing what's up with the arena. If she's not around to give orders, then everything could fall apart. She's in a very delicate position right now.

"What other Victors are involved with this?"

Meadow's question causes Lanai to startle. She looks up, wondering how much she should tell her. "A good amount. Vin's been behind us from the get-go. Macy is on board. Chance and Alec too. They're not the only ones." She shifts in her seat. "We've been attempting make contact with District Thirteen, but they haven't been answering our messages. Either they no longer exist or they are choosing to ignore us."

"District Thirteen? They were destroyed over a century ago," Meadow says.

"No," Lanai says. "There is certain information that the Head Gamemaker is privy to, Meadow, that the average population doesn't get to know." She sighs. "So far, efforts with Thirteen seem to be in vain. But we'll keep working on it. If there's a chance that we could get a safe base to work out of in Thirteen, we would be so much better off."

The weight of this rebellion is starting to hit Lanai. She was so used to Silas being the head of it, the one calling the shots. For the longest time it annoyed her. She wanted more than what Silas was willing to do, for fear of his family suffering. Lanai has no family to speak of. She has nothing more to lose than her life and that is hardly worth anything. This is a cause worth dying for.

But the deeper Lanai gets into it, the more treason she commits, the more it starts to bother her. This conversation, the names she has said, the places she's mentioned, all of it could—and would—get her executed in a second. Ezra's been breathing down her neck for weeks. She's treading on thin ice and every step must be carefully calculated.

Lanai has never been good at carefully calculated.

"I want to work with you," Meadow says after a long while. "But when all hell breaks loose—when whatever you've got planned goes down, I need reassurance that Floryn will be protected."

"Of course," Lanai says. She can't let Meadow know that she doesn't have anything big planned. She knows that Panem is like a powder keg—one small spark will make the whole thing explode. All she has to do is find that spark and coax it into a blaze.

The car pulls to a stop. Lanai and Meadow step out into the unloading zone of a fancy hotel. There isn't much use for hotels in the Capitol, since the only people who ever visit are usually Victors, and they stay in the Tribute Center more often than not. Still, no one questions the existence of a hotel in the bustling downtown Capitol. Lanai makes sure enough cars are parked near it and that people come and go frequently enough that it appears like an actual business. Of course, one would struggle to book a room here, but that's another story.

Lanai has everything figured out: her cover for why she goes to this hotel, an alibi to tell Ezra should he ever ask, a reason for her car to stop by when she heads home for the day. Sabre works the front desk, giving her a reason to stop and visit. Her apartment is just down the street, giving her a reason to be in the area.

She leads Meadow inside, nodding to the driver as she passes.

Cassius Grammer nods back to her.

"Sabre," she says as they pass the front desk. Sabre, silent as always, acknowledges her with a slight wave.

As they descend a staircase into the basement, they pass a pair of women, discussing the situation with Thirteen in hushed voices. They look at Lanai with an air of newfound respect.

The basement is darker and colder than the aboveground facilities, but it's safer. Less prying eyes to possibly see through windows. Less sounds to permeate the walls.

Back when this place was actually a hotel, Lanai figures the basement was mostly used for storage. But they've managed to carve out enough rooms to make offices, meeting spaces, and a set of hospital rooms. They don't have the best doctors or equipment, but they make do with what they have.

They pass by the room currently occupied by Lana Meadows. Meadow pauses at the door, peering inside to see the girl lying prone on a bed, surrounded by wires and machines that beep and whir. "Is she…is she going to survive?"

Lanai shrugs. "It depends, I suppose. She might. She might not."

Meadow closes the door and turns away. "Where's Quinn?"

They find him sitting in a meeting room at a conference table with a teenaged girl. The girl says something that makes Quinn laugh, but even that action seems forced.

"Tabitha," Lanai greets. The girl nods to her. "Quinn, Meadow is here to see you."

With some difficulty, Quinn shifts his chair to face them. His skin is off-color and exhaustion is evident in his face. From the way he leans away from the back of his chair, it's obvious that the wound there is still painful. "Hey," he says after a long moment.

"Hi," Meadow answers, seeming uncertain of what to say. "Are you…are you alright?"

"I'm alive," Quinn says. "Isn't that funny? I'm alive. I'm not supposed to be. My family thinks I'm dead."

"They'll find out the truth one day," Lanai assures him. "One day, when this is all over, you'll get to go back to Eleven and find them."

"If they're still alive then," Quinn says.

Lanai bites her lip. "They will be."

"You can't be sure of that," Tabitha says. She glances at Meadow. "Oh. I didn't introduce myself. Tabitha Oto, District Six." She extends a hand for Meadow to shake.

Meadow takes it. "How did a girl from District Six get involved in a Capitol rebellion?"

"My brother died in the Games two years ago," Tabitha says, emotion choking her voice. "I'm here to return the favor."

Something clicks in Meadow's eyes. "Oh. I see."

The silence that threatens to suffocate them breaks when a man dashes into the room. "Lanai, we've received transmission from District Thirteen. You need to see this!"

Lanai jumps, a grin spreading across her face. "Hell yes! Okay, Meadow, find Cass when you want to head back, I'll sort out an alibi if anyone asks, Quinn, it was nice seeing you, I'll be back!" And she follows the man out of the room, real excitement bubbling in her veins since the moment a bullet pierced Silas's skin.

A/N: I think it's very funny that it took me a little over a year to write The Youngest Among Us and Die a Hero combined and here I am, over two years into The Bloodiest Place on Earth and still with half of the tributes to kill.

Anyways, might get a lot of writing done in the next few days because I'm rereading the Hunger Games and it's finally inspired me to write. Sophomore year is kicking me in the ass though so I don't know how long it will last.

Until next time,

Amanda