Chapter 27: Olive Sanchez

A/N: Following that rather chaotic Quarter Quell, the Hunger Games continue with business as usual! This time it's District Seven for their third win! Hope you enjoy Olive's chapter and pls review or PM me if you want to give me any new ideas! Cheers:)

Katniss stared at the girl, scrutinising her expression. "What's that pin she's wearing?"

Peeta shrugged. "Looks like a musical note. I don't know. We could ask Johanna later."

Katniss nodded. "Three Victors huh? That's more than Four."

Peeta chuckled. "Yeah, but Four would crush that tally eight years later. Olive is President Snow in disguise, real or not real?"

Katniss scowled. "Not real. Where did you get that idea from?"

Peeta smiled. "Just messing with you, Kat. Loosen up a bit, will you?"

Katniss rolled her eyes. "Peeta, you know me. I'm not very good at 'loosening up'.

Olive Sanchez

District 7

Aged 17

6 Kills

It was fair to say that after that horrific Quarter Quell, which was still fresh in everyone's minds, especially poor little Sterling's, the following year's Games were expected to take a rating nosedive. There was no way anything could match that finale! At least the tributes might have some sort of likeable personalities this year. Last year's interviews had been a mess of murderers, rapists, robbers, druglords, pirates, bandits, cannibals and gang leaders. The Capitol hadn't enjoyed listening to their sadistic plans, but at least there was plenty of unmatchable action. For the second time in the Hunger Games era, the Career Academy decided against sending anyone in to volunteer, especially not the Academy from One, which had begun reshaping itself to focus on mental stamina as well as physical toughness after the effects on Sapphire and Sterling. The memory of what had happened to Midas, Tomyris and Trajan was still raw and vivid and despite Draco's best efforts to drum up support for volunteers that year, there was none. District Two would only get back into the volunteering gig the following year, and District One would only follow the year after with yet another snooty pair of nobles. But for now, it seemed that the outliers had a golden opportunity to claim the crown. This was going to be an interesting follow-up to the Quarter Quell.

Olive was one of the more well-to-do girls in the District. Her father was a senior supervisor at a lumber mill, which meant their family earned more than enough money to get by. They never had to take tesserae and even had some spare cash to buy a flute for Olive. Ever since she was young, Olive had been obsessed with music. It was entwined in District Seven culture. Unlike those uncultured workers from Three, the people of District Seven loved the arts. It was a way to forget all the distracting sorrowful incidents in their lives. Music was especially popular. The emergence of Jill Wilson as their District's second Victor had only boosted music's popularity within the District. Everyone wanted to learn how to play an instrument or sing a song and Olive was no exception. She was the brightest young flautist in the entire nation, no doubt about that. Flutes were widely considered to be good companions to the violins so it made sense that Olive would often be asked to perform alongside Jill in the Hassan Greenwood Square. Olive was constantly bragging about having the privilege to do this and she was without a shadow of a doubt the envy of the District. She was, after all, also Jill's goddaughter. Nevertheless, she was also a beloved child, one they sought to preserve from the horrors of life in Seven, a place riddled with tracker jacker and stray dog mutts. Oh, and there were also a bunch of lazy ass peacekeepers who ignored criminals unless they harmed them. But at least the criminals had a good liking for the arts too, and steered clear from Olive. They respected her talents and never stole from her. Anther and Rowan, however, had no such respect. They had robbed her at least twice and once tried to break into her house. It was for that reason they had been thrown into the arena to meet their deservedly horrific deaths. Olive wasn't too keen on this revenge though. She just wanted to put a smile on people's faces. Was that so wrong? She played her flute all day, the tunes echoing in the wind and across the woods, creating the old charm the forests of Seven once had before bombs had smashed right into it and they were forced to work their asses off. But of course, life has a way of twisting things up a notch and just like Jill, Olive the talented young musical prodigy was thrown into the arena. She didn't seem very nervous at all. After all, she planned to try out whatever tactics Jill saw fit. They were alike, those two. She was going to be fine! In the Justice Building, her parents gave her a long hug and handed her a pin. That of a musical note. She smiled, thanking them for giving her the token. Her fingers closed around the precious copper pin and it almost seemed to radiate some sort of power. Power that would push Olive over the line and crown her as Victor of the Twenty-sixth annual Hunger Games.

Jill grimaced when Olive's name was pulled out of the Reaping bowl. She had known that this would happen someday. The doctors in the Capitol had told her that she was sterile, so Snow couldn't just toss her son or daughter into the Games. No, he had to take away the next best thing: her goddaughter. The young flautist had done nothing wrong, Jill had even shown some of her clips to relatively impressed Capitol citizens. The only crime she had committed was that she was close to Jill. Jill sighed. It was a mistake, performing with her. She should have just ignored the girl when she had come to her, begging for a chance to play with her idol. It had been out of pure instinct. She couldn't just turn down such a sweet, desperate child. Then again, if she had, maybe Olive wouldn't be headed on a seemingly one-way train to the Capitol. She glanced at the pin on Olive's jacket. It had been a gift from Jill last Christmas to Olive's mother, whom Jill had known since they were toddlers. Jill had, in turn, received it from her grandfather, once a famed District Seven violinist who was shot by the Capitol during the Dark Days for producing rebel music. It bore a whole lot of significance to the musicians of Seven and some even claimed it had the power to enhance their musical abilities. She had to hope that this was so, because Olive needed all the power in the world to make it out of the arena alive, and with all her wits intact.

The train to the Capitol was a long ride, curving through a melody of landscapes, one's that were never allowed to be visited unless you were some sort of Capitol director or filmmaker with tons of experience. This part of Seven had once been known as several names across two different nations. The northern part was British Columbia, a district of Canada, and the southern part of Seven was a district named after some revolutionary rebel named George. There were other Districts thrown into the mix, such as something similar to Oregano and Idea-ho? And another one named Montana. Jill couldn't remember all of them, but they once existed, once upon a blue moon, long before Panem's founding. Jill often wondered, how were their lives like? Did they spend their days chopping wood and dealing with brutal dictatorships too? She could vaguely remember an old legend that in the final days of the old countries, a crazy president who resided somewhere near Twelve in the nation's former capital, decided to drop a nuclear bomb over his enemies, dooming the world to nuclear war. The enemy had been an old rival in the far East, an area Panem never quite explored, something called Chin-up? At any rate, the dictator was overthrown by angry citizens and nuked to death, thus starting the history of Panem. Jill shook her head. Times like those were too far-fetched to think about. She turned her attention back to Olive, who was stuffing her face with mouthfuls of food alongside her District partner, Birk, an impoverished and malnourished fourteen-year-old boy from one of the more run-down lumber mills. The escort stood at the corner of the dining car, grumbling about a lack of dining etiquette. Jill rolled her eyes. She never liked these silly escorts. Always complaining and pretending the Games were all fun and games. Jill's fellow mentor, Hassan, was getting ready a set of notes. He had taken notes of key strategies that tributes could utilise in the Games over the years, such as stay the heck away from the Bloodbath. That had been made very clear after the last one. They didn't want another Midas or Cassava incident to happen. Jill took her seat across from the tributes. Olive looked up, pausing her lunch. "So, I guess you'll be my mentor, right?" she asked, chewing in some potatoes.

Jill nodded. "Yes. Olive, I'm here to help either you or Birk win."

Birk dropped his fork and shook his head sadly, a lonely tear running down the side of his face. "Don't bother. I'm going to die in the Bloodbath to save Olive. She should live, not me."

Jill exchanged a bewildered look with Hassan, who shrugged and gave Birk a concerned look. "Birk," she began slowly. "It doesn't have to end this way."

"Yes it does," he retorted, stuffing a piece of roasted pork into his mouth. "I hate my life. I've wanted to die for such a long time, ever since that monster Anther killed my brothers. When I go down," he gave a small shrug. "I'd rather go down fighting for Olive's life."

Jill was speechless. On the one hand, this crazy, calmly suicidal boy had to go through at least some therapy. He needed fixing badly. On the other hand, that meant Olive had a better chance to win. One less competitor, one more willing ally. She couldn't quite wrap her head around the pros and cons. All she knew was that Olive had a chance.

The Capitol was particularly abuzz that year. After the intense drama of The last Games, there were increasingly high expectations for this year. Jill could tell as soon as she stepped off the train. A horde of photographers, twice the usual number, swarmed the Seven team. A few recognised Olive and started squealing excitedly. That was good. The more attention Olive got, the better. The Capitolian train station was located near the base of a large mountain, Jill recalled that they were once called the Appalachians. The city was big, encompassing the size of five District Seven towns, and it was far brighter than any District Town, even the ones in One. Its location was frustratingly strategic. The mountains were snow-capped and provided a good natural defence against outsiders. The only chino in the armour was the border with District One. Their border was a series of small hills and some flat plains, easily penetrable and a weakness for the Capitol. But the District One citizens would never even think of rebellion, not after the comparative mercy shown to them by the Capitol. Or so they thought. Jill herded Olive and Birk around the swarming paparazzi and journalists. "Olive!" a pink-haired woman called out. "I'm from the Capitol Couture! How big of an honour is it to be able to follow in your godmother's footsteps and compete?"

Olive blinked, stunned by her question. Jill gave the Capitol Couture woman a hard glare. "Leave her alone. She's going to win, that's all we can say."

The Capitol Couture woman did anything but leave her alone. She peppered Olive with questions about her flute, how honoured she must feel, her strategy, everything. Olive only responded to the musical related questions, the rest she managed to dodge by explaining she'd rather talk about music. Jill tried to lead her away, but her attempts were nearly futile until Hassan offered to buy everyone a drink if they left Olive and Birk alone. Most responded cheerfully to this, enough for the team from Seven to cut their way through the crowds and reach the Tribute Centre. Jill rolled her eyes. At this rate, Olive and Birk were going to be killed long before they even entered the arena.

Jill could vividly remember her own Tribute Parade. While some of her fellow Victors like Reyna and John admitted that they had absolutely despised the experience, Jill had actually enjoyed it a lot. In fact, she was more than willing to go on a second ride, just not as a tribute again, of course. Her first emergence as a brilliant violinist in the Capitol had been breathtakingly spellbinding. The way she felt as though she had the Capitol wrapped around her middle finger, it had been nothing short of amazing. Of course, now she knew she had never done so. Instead, it was the Capitol who had wrapped her up in a tight squeeze and forced her into the VPR. That foul-mouthed brutal son of a bitch Draco had been her first client. For goodness sake, he was a fellow Victor! How on earth could he be so cruel to people like Scipio, his own tribute who he had personally taught at the Career Academy? It baffled her how they were forced to be in the same room twice every year, once in the Mentoring Room and another time in Draco or Snow's personal bedroom, minus clothing. At least Sterling never had to endure it. Too mentally unstable, the doctors had proclaimed her. Looking at Sterling, who had been the first to arrive at their designated seats, now, she seemed just as equally terrified as she had been when she had left that hellhole of an 'arena'. Jill felt a pang of sympathy just thinking about it. She could feel her heart being crushed with the same brutality as Draco as she thought of Sterling's mental health over the months. Her phone calls with Franc, regulated by the new president of District Thirteen, Atom Huang, hadn't been very encouraging. Atom had allowed the Victors ten minutes of secret inter-District phone calls every year, a regulation she was grateful for, especially since Oakette couldn't arrange it. Fourteen's technology wasn't quite there yet. Franc had told her that Crystal often had to sleep in Sterling's room and comfort her when she slept. During these nights Crystal often had to wear some protective gear. Sterling never slept without her trusty knife. Sterling's parents had also begun to study psychology for the sake of their daughter, as Gwen could only meet her during the Games. Not exactly the calmest time of year. For her talent, Sterling had chosen hairstyling, her old profession, coming up with a trendy new Capitolian hairstyle every year. Not that she herself would wear those hairstyles. Jill knew Sterling hadn't lost her dignity yet. She walked up to the shivering girl from One. "Hey, Sterling."

Sterling looked up, smiling slightly. "Hello, Jill. Uh, how's you, uh..." Her eyes widened in panic as she began to mouth frantically at Jill.

"Tribute?" Jill guessed, her voice gentle and soothing. Sterling nodded. "Well, I plan for a Seven victory this year. Olive's my goddaughter, you see, so I kinda have to get her out. You?"

Sterling grimaced. "I have to mentor this year, but Franc's the one doing all the work. Gwen says getting attached will only harm me. But I reckon Prodigy has a shot."

As the other mentors streamed in, Jill went over to talk to Nikola and the rest, leaving Sterling with Gwen. Soon, the parade was underway. This time, though, there was something profoundly different. The Capitol anthem, which usually blared over the Parade ever since Snow took power, was now being played by a flute. She turned her head around, trying to find this new flautist as one by one, the tributes came out in their chariots. When District Seve came out, Jill let out an excited gasp. Olive was playing the flute! She had learnt how to play the anthem when she was young since it was a requirement for young musicians to do so. Capitol laws and all that shit. But still, that seemingly stupid lesson had now given her a significant advantage. The crowd were cheering her on as loud as they could. Olive played on, a look of serious concentration on her face. Jill knew she didn't enjoy playing this song, but if it was what she had to do to survive, well it wasn't too big of a price to pay, was it? "Jill," Marina gasped. "Your girl over there..." The other mentors were similarly staring at Olive, most in awe, Freya with contempt. Jill just smirked, the memory of her own Games coming alive once again. If she could win with music, why couldn't Olive?

The Capitol's most famous restaurants, bars and hotels were usually covered head to toe with cameras, just in case any pesky Victors came around to discuss a rebellion. As for all the paparazzi, Jill knew they were spies. Spies working for President Snow to spy on the Victors' activities. Even Draco wasn't spared from this treatment. But Jill knew a place where no self-respecting Capitol paparazzi would go. The dumpster. It was rotten, foul, ugly beyond belief during the daytime. But it was perfect. No one would suspect anyone of any rebellion here. Jill waded her way through the muck, writhing as she got her foot stuck in some dung and vomit mixture. In the heart of the dumpster, Marina, Nikola and two other hooded figures stood to wait for her. Marina looked visibly disgusted by the dumpster too, her face green as she put on a mask to cover up the odour. Jill had to smack her forehead. Why didn't she think of that? This smell was killing her! Luckily, Marina had brought along spares to share with both her and Nikola, who looked as though he was about to faint. The hooded figures took off their hoods. The one on the left was a woman in her thirties with brown hair tucked in a ponytail. She had dark, stormy eyes and carried a knife in her pocket. Jill knew her to be Fission Jackson, a District Thirteen sharpshooter who had once operated an underground rebel tunnel between Thirteen and the Capitol before Snow managed to shut it down, leaving her stranded in the Capitol and away from her husband and young daughter, who, unbeknownst to Jill, would one day fight alongside the Mockingjay in the Second Rebellion. The figure on the right was a short man with a slight pot belly. He had bright purple hair and cat eyes, an obvious hint that he was from the Capitol. Again, Jill knew him to be Apostolos Heavensbee, the ringleader of a secret Capitol spy ring working for District Thirteen. The pair acknowledged her presence with a curt nod and began to talk. "We'll get right to business," Fission said. "Has Soldier MacAllister prepared the map updates?"

"His name is Scipio," Marina told her sharply as she fished out a folded map from her pocket. "Not Soldier MacAllister."

Fission snatched the map from her with a glare. "Soldier Bluebell," she threatened. "Your Victor status warrants you no special treatment in District Thirteen. You will be referred to as Soldier for all formal purposes."

Marina didn't look too happy about this, but she remained silent, crossing her arms as she continued to glare at Fission. Apostolos gave a light cough. "So, Jill, err, I mean, Soldier Wilson. Whatever. How about you? Where's your music tape?"

Jill reached into her coat pocket and took out a CD. It contained a whole bunch of rebel propaganda music she'd recorded with Olive. The little girl had been sheltered from Seven's atrocious lifestyle, not the rebellion at hand. "Right here."

Apostolos nodded as he took it from her. "Good."

Fission turned to Nikola. "So, Soldier Johnson. Your next task is to design a prototype of an improved spy voice recorder, one attached to a person's shoe or some or clothing article. And make it one the metal detectors will not detect."

Nikola nodded, adjusting his glasses. "Yeah, got that."

"Good, that concludes this meeting." With that, Fission and Apostolos left.

"She really needs to chill, huh?" Jill muttered.

Marina gave them one last glare. "I don't trust Thirteen that much. I prefer Oakette and Fourteen. But Thirteen are more weaponised, more battle-ready. We have no choice, guys."

Jill sighed, dreaming of a land where she could make her own decisions. Hey, that could be a good idea for a new rebel song!

Jill headed for her seat among the crowds, swarmed by aspiring musicians keen for tips and autographs. She brushed most of them off, stating, "I'll only give them if you sponsor Olive." That turned off most of them, unwilling to part with their money for a seemingly weak girl from the lumber District. She sat down between Nikola, her best friend, and Gwen, still skinny as ever, was busy giving Sterling a psychologic therapy session, both Victors ignoring the paparazzi around them. "I like that there are no Careers, but Three's still screwed," Nikola sighed, wiping his glasses. "Gadget and I have two shrimpy tributes again."

Jill patted his shoulder encouragingly. "Better luck next year, then."

Nikola smiled sadly. "Yeah. Maybe. But you, you've got a good one this year! Olive's a good favourite with that score of nine! I mean, how..."

To be honest, Jill didn't know either. When Jill had confronted Olive about this, she just shrugged and said, "Oh, I threw some axes." But that couldn't just be it, right? There had to be something extra for her to get an eight. Problem was, Jill didn't know what. Whatever it was, it would have to wait as Neptune had entered the stage to a warm round of applause from the audience. Jill had to admit, Neptune was doing a fine job, a massive upgrade from Bartomeus Flickermann, whose son apparently wanted his father's role in the future. But he was just a kid. He would have to wait for his turn. Maybe in two decades or so. Little did she know, Caesar's appointment would come much sooner than that. Neptune began with the girl from One, Prodigy, a fifteen-year-old girl from the Career Academy who wasn't much of a fighter, really. She could hardly pay attention to her interview. The same went for all the other tribute interviews from Districts One through Six. She only had eyes and ears for her own tributes from District Seven: Olive and Birk. Because this year there would be a surprise. When the Sixes were talking she had slipped backstage to get ready. Because Olive's interview was going to be the performance of a lifetime. "ladies and gentlemen!" Neptune yelled excitedly. "Performing with her godmother Jill, Olive Sanchez!" The curtains were raised. The spotlight was on. Jill raised her bow as Olvie appeared on stage in her interview dress from her own Games, a flute in hand, ready to play. As soon as Jill played the first note, the audience could immediately recognise the song. It was the song she had played in her interviewed. But with Olive there by her side, it was different. It was, hypnotising, in a strange way. The audience seemed to lose control of themselves, their eyes glazed over and their jaws dropped. Jill looked up from her violin for a moment and glanced at her fellow Victors. What she saw almost made her drop her violin. Everyone from Nikola down to Draco were staring intently at Olive's flute, some swaying their heads slightly to the tune of the music. But every single one of them had been just as entangled by Olive's music as the other members of the audience. Even Snow in his Presidential Box looked dazed, blinking to stay focused. Jill bit he lip and played the final notes of the song before it was finally over. The audience snapped out of their trance, blinking in a confused manner and muttering amongst themselves like confused owls. Jill gaped at Olive, who simply shrugged. Neptune walked up to the stage, looking dizzier than ever. "Wow, that was simply astonishing," he gasped. Jill bowed to the now wildly clapping audience and quickly left the stage, leaving Olive to Neptune's mercy. She was flabbergasted beyond belief. What the heck just happened?

This year, the Mentoring Room atmosphere was tenser than ever. Most of the mentors, except for maybe Draco, had not recovered from the trauma of last year. Sterling, in particular, had to be blindfolded and had her ears covered by Crystal for the duration of the Bloodbath. Jill was just as tense as the rest, if not more. She watched as Olive's pedestal rose up between the boy from Three and the boy from Eleven, not a bad place to be. Her eyes darted around the Cornucopia as if searching for something. In the meantime, Jill got a good look at the arena. An olive Grove. Her jaw dropped so low it nearly touched the floor. Olive! She should be happy that the Game makers seemed to like her tribute, but that was far from the case. She had a dreaded feeling she knew what would happen if, no, when, Olive won the Games. And it wasn't going to be good. Olive had finally decided on a spot not too far from her, her eyes fixated on a backpack and a wooden flute on the ground. Jill felt worse instantly. They really loved her. Little did she know, the reason they favoured Olive was not because she was attractive, but because they had been hypnotised to make those decisions on the night of the interviews. It had been a subtle, unconscious decision, one they were helpless to change in the morning. Olive would be fine, but Jill didn't know that. The ginger rang and Olive burst forward, grabbed her items and dashed off in the nick of time as a knife from the boy from One just narrowly missed her as Birk tackled him to the ground. Jill heaved a sigh of relief, only to find herself surrounded by her fellow mentors, who were screaming in despair. The scenes were always the same. Despairing mentors bemoaning the fate of their tributes. Draco, in particular, was screaming the loudest when his tributes both committed suicide. Birk was still fighting the boy from One, Terrific, until he finally gave in and Terrific stabbed him in the chest. Jill sighed. He had wanted to die anyway. Was it so wrong that he had gotten what he wanted? Jill couldn't shake the feeling that Birk's death was so horribly wrong. Alas, wrong was always deemed right when it came to the Districts. There would be no justice. But not for long. Jill thought about Thirteen and Fourteen, both of whom were hoping to rise up and take down the Capitol. Surely Thirteen wouldn't keep stalling?

Olive had headed into the grove, barely paying attention to the thirteen cannons that boomed in the distance and only stopping when she was certain she was out of sight. Good, Jill thought. Maybe she would finally learn Olive's secret 'master plan' to win the Games. Olive examined her backpack. Through her screen, Jill could see that it contained a bottle of water, a small axe, some rope and a couple of bread rolls. Easily enough to survive for three days or more in the arena. What Olive did next, though, left Jill speechless. She picked up her flute and began to play. She banged her fists on the screen, screaming and pleading for Olive to remain strong. Olive was having a suicide performance! She hadn't even set up any traps! Tears streamed down Jill's face as she caught sight of the alliance between Four, Six and the girl from Twelve draw near. Hassan put his hands over her eyes. "You don't need to see this." Jill was whimpering as she continued to hear Olive's final song being played, drawing on and on and, then she heard a splash. Hassan uncovered her eyes, the second Victor looking dumbfounded. Jill turned her eyes to the screen, reluctant to see Olive's dying corpse but instead, she saw the five allies drowning in a river. Olive was standing on the riverbank, taking a deep breath before she continued playing. Instantly, the five allies went into a trance and allowed the river to slowly, but surely, gobble up their bodies. Five cannons boomed. All twenty-four Victors who weren't Jill turned to her, staring wide-eyed at her.

"Jill," Marina began softly, her voice trembling from the loss of her tribute.

"Your tribute's a monster!" Freya snarled. "She can't even kill her enemies properly, like, seriously, hypnosis is such an old cheat from the cheater's playbook and..." She ranted on and on as Jill stared blankly at them. So that had been Olive's plan all along! How had she not known, especially after that spellbinding interview performance? Jill blinked, turning back to the screen to see Olive cleaning her flute. That girl was something else.

If the first day hadn't been weird enough for Jill, the third was going to be far more baffling. Sterling had gone into a full panic attack on the second day after Terrific ambushed and killed Prodigy, an act which made Onyx cut all sponsor funds for him and transfer those funds to a surprised Jill. "Why me?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Olive's your goddaughter, right? She should get out of the arena," Onyx replied nonchalantly.

Jill smiled gratefully, but her smile soon disappeared when she saw the rabid boy from Eight, Lurex, leap onto Terrific's shoulders and massacre him to death, stabbing his head until it was cracked into a million pieces. Jill winced and covered her eyes, flashbacks of the previous Games flooding her mind again. She hoped Olive could hypnotise Lurex too, but on the night of the interview, she had vaguely remembered Lurex snapping out of Olive's hypnosis halfway through the song. He was one to look out for, Jill thought. But she didn't need to worry. On the morning of the third day, she saw something that almost made her cry out again. Winged snakes. They were back and in bigger numbers, hissing as they slithered to Olive's location. "Olive, run!" she begged, but Olive didn't budge. Instead, she brought out her flute and began playing it, swaying her head to the music. It was a trick Jill had seen another flautist, Iwdael Singh, perform on a small brood of snakes in the woods a couple of years ago. Iwdael claimed it was an ancient trick, one that had been passed down across generations by her ancestors who hailed from a long-forgotten land in the East that Iwdael couldn't quite remember. She called it Inday, but she wasn't sure. Jill recalled that Olive had been immensely interested in this and had begged Iwdael to teach her how to do it. Was that what she was doing now? The winged snakes seemed entranced by her song, swaying their bodies to the tune of the music.

"How..." Woof gaped at the screen, momentarily looking up from his romance comic.

"Iwdael," Hassan guessed, his eyes brightening. "It was his trick!"

Jill's eyes glinted cunningly. Olive didn't need her help. She had full control of the Games. That was, until Lurex and the boy from Nine, Emmer, closed in on her from behind, knives poised to attack. "Shit!" she yelped. "Olive, watch out!" Olive couldn't hear her, but it almost seemed like she had, because she ducked as soon as the knives were flung into the air. The knives instead lodged itself into one of the winged snakes. Olive stopped her music and lay flat on the ground. Immediately, the winged snakes, furious at the loss of one of their own, and now out of their trance, lunged at Emmer and Lurex. The boys couldn't run. They were too shell-shocked. The snakes sank their fangs into their necks. Two cannons boomed overhead. Jill's heart fluttered. The only other tribute left was the girl from Nine, Spelt, and she had injured her leg in the Bloodbath. Olive was coming home! A silly grin spread across her face as Olive made her way across the grove, munching on an olive she'd plucked from a tree nearby, and approached the sobbing brunette wheat farmer.

"Spelt, it's going to be over soon," she told her softly.

Spelt stared at her with big, pleading eyes, her pupils wide and crazed. "Olive, please, make it quick."

Olive nodded and pulled out her knife. "Goodbye, Spelt." With that, she slit her throat and the cannon boomed. The other mentors clapped hesitatingly for Jil, but she didn't stick around. She had to be in the medical room asap!

Six months later, on Olive's Victory tour, the Capitol allowed her to bring her flute on the stage for ten seconds. She used those ten seconds well, teaching the Districts a four-note song, one Rue would later learn from her father before passing it on to Katniss Everdeen. Olive may be long gone, but the memory of the flautist girl never quite faded away. It would forever be encapsulated in that simple four-note song.

Katniss and Peeta had a moment of silence for Olive. "What happened to her?" Katniss asked.

"I think she had cancer," Peeta guessed. "I'm not entirely sure, but she was gone by the time the Quell happened."

There wasn't much to add on and the pair moved on. The next Victor looked incredibly drunk, his brown hair in a flurry of a mess, his clothes ruffled and his eyes almost lost. Katniss gritted her teeth. She knew this Victor. She had seen his drunkenness. She had seen Finnick kill him. "Flash Morrison."

VICTORS

District 1-Sapphire Huntington(4), Onyx Hibonite(9), Franc Montgomery(14), Crystal Montgomery(21), Sterling Jones(25)

District 2-Ragnar Sveinsson(5), Reyna Boudicca(6), Draco Hadley(10), Scipio MacAllister(17), Freya Carson(22)

District 3-Nikola Johnson(13), Gadget Schroeder(24)

District 4-Marina Bluebell(1), Mags Flanagan(11)

District 5-Shocker Crimson(8), Switch Kim(19)

District 6-Ford Hamilton(20)

District 7-Hassan Greenwood(2), Jill Wilson(15), Olive Sanchez(26)

District 8-Woof Casino(16)

District 9-Gwendolyn Whitfield(18)

District 10-Ringo Alvarez(7), John Gatwick(23)

District 11-Orchid Bloom(12)

District 12-Axel Millar(3)

A/N: So that was Olive, the hypnotic flautist girl from District Seven! Hope you enjoyed that rather bizarre method of victory from Olive, I honestly didn't know what to do with her until I decided to make her somewhat similar to Jill, being a musician and all that. Then I had this nightmare about snakes and the idea kind of clicked. Flute+snakes=Olive! Pls review and tell me what you think and I would appreciate some suggestions for the next four Victors: Flash from Five, Hercules from Two, Laurel from Nine and Seeder from Eleven! Stay tuned for Flash! Cheers:)