The Victor

District Six Male

Maxwell Moriarty

19th June, 20 ADD (2220), 5:00 PM

23 Hours, 37 Minutes since Games Conclusion

Normally, when the Games finish, they don't have the Victor's interview until the Victor themselves have recovered from any injuries they may have gotten. This year though, the interview is tonight, the day after the Games ended. That's because there are no injuries for me to recover from. Not a single scratch.

I'm not looking forward to the interview, which will be taking place in an hour, nor the Victor's banquet at the President's Mansion afterwards. But I have to go through with it. They'll be tough jobs, but I just have to suck it up and do them.

That's what my dad always told me, whether it was in regards to chores, work, or surviving the Hunger Games. You can't get around it, you can't avoid it, you just have to do them. No excuses, no complaining.

I wish my District Partner, Maz, had followed that advice. From practically the second we were reaped all she did was moan, complain and whine about how this whole thing wasn't fair. She did have a point admittedly, but all she did was annoy everyone around us. She didn't seem to realize that there was nothing she could do except make sure she came out on top.

Alas, she went down in the bloodbath. And all her complaints died with her.

I think our mentor, Marius, was secretly relieved at that. Being that he was from the Capitol, he already didn't have a particularly flattering opinion of those in the districts, least of all Six, and I'm positive that Maz's behaviour only made him more agitated.

I think he's glad that it's me who's still alive and not her.

Because at least I know when to keep my mouth shut.

I realise that this whole thing must make me sound very unsympathetic, but that's not it at all. I just don't have the patience for those who refuse to help themselves. And even though I am sad that Maz died, I can't say she didn't have it coming. All throughout training, she would just sit and whinge to anyone who would listen. She never even tried to better her chances by, y'know, actually training. She just wanted her success to be handed to her. I guess that's how you behave when you're from a wealthy family and never had to work a day in your life.

I, on the other hand, did what I had to do. I don't like it, but that's just how it is.

That doesn't mean I'm going to easily forget those three tributes whose lives I cut too short. I could do without the memory of their screams, their desperate attempts to stay alive. I'm not going to forget the fact that I have killed.

But I had to do it. It was them or me.

And because of that, it's me that lived. It's me that's Victor.

And, of course, it's me who's name everyone gets wrong. I don't understand why they keep calling me Maxwell when I've told them, multiple times, what I prefer to be called. Naturally, it just goes in one ear and out the other with these people. I've been constantly correcting them, but my patience is wearing thin.

Especially since my prep team is hovering around me, getting me ready for my interview, all the while telling me things like, "hold still, Maxwell," or, "let's get your hair combed, okay Maxwell?"

It was terrible, having to stand there and listen to them call me by my birth name when I've told them over and over again not to call me that. I've given up correcting them at this point. If I didn't know any better I'd think they were purposefully ignoring me.

And sure, people think that my nickname's stupid. Sometimes they mock me about it. I don't care. It's my life, and I'll go by whatever damn name I choose.

Plus, I think it suits me, considering that my job back in Six was to manufacture car parts. Hell, one of my coworkers is nicknamed Wheel, short for Steering Wheel.

Not that anyone cares.

Finally, my prep team has finished with me. Now I'm being led away, down the hallways, towards the stage for the interview. Marius falls in step with me.

"You did great out there, kid," he says.

I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't like the way he calls me kid. It's quite condescending.

Marius clears his throat. "Finally, I don't have to mentor anymore," he continues. "It's your job now. And let me tell you, it's not fun. On the contrary, it's incredibly frustrating, so you'd better get used to it."

Gee, thanks for the advice, Marius.

Seriously, that's more advice than he ever gave me or Maz before we went into the arena. All he said to us was to not die. Clearly, he'd long since given up on us Six tributes, which is an absolutely lovely thought.

Thanks for the advice, indeed.

A little while later, we reach the stage. From where I am in the wings, I can just see part of the crowd, and from what I can tell, it's absolutely packed. It seems like practically every man, woman and child has turned out to see Six's first Victor. It's a little flattering, in a way.

Atticus Woolfe is onstage, telling some corny jokes to warm up the crowd. He did this before the tribute interviews, too. His jokes made me want to barf. And judging by the looks on the faces of the tributes from Five and Seven, they felt the same way.

Finally, the jokes stop and Atticus raises his arm in my direction. The crowd quietens down almost immediately. As a result, Atticus' booming voice reverberates across the stage, the crowd and practically the whole city.

"He's silent, he's deadly; he's the one, the only, Maxwell Moriarty of District Six!"

All of a sudden I feel myself burn with frustration. The idea of everyone referring to me by the wrong name makes me feel angry. Like they don't care about who I am as a person. Well, I know they probably don't, not really, but it doesn't stop me from wanting them to call me by my nickname.

I march out onstage and I know I must look extremely pissed, as Atticus frowns when he sees me.

"What-" he doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence before I yell out in my very own booming voice, so I know that everyone can hear me:

"For the love of god, my name is Gearshift! Stop it with this Maxwell business, and just call me Gearshift!"