Disclaimer:

I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.

Training Day 3/Private Gamemaker Sessions

Odin Actorius

Victor of the Seventy-Third Hunger Games

Odin watched the elevator close, the sight of Cassandra and Ryker disappearing. Most districts tended to have one mentor per-tribute. Or one for both tributes, if they were lucky enough. The alliance tended to operate in a very different way. Each tribute was given a mentor and two other Victors for their team. Enobaria was the mentor of Cassandra, but he had been assigned as part of Cassandra's team, along with Artemis. Lyme, Nero, and Janus made up Ryker's team.

The twenty-year-old was Two's newest Victor and with luck this year that would change. Last year was supposed to be Two's year as well, but Odin's sister Clove had been killed by the giant boy from Eleven. He and Clove were supposed to be Two's answer to Gloss and Cashmere, but that never happened. Instead, Twelve finally won.

"Odin, Mars wants to see you at Eternity," Enobaria said, staring at the official sponsor papers. "Said it was important. Might help Two get ahead."

Odin knew by Two, she meant Cassandra. Cassandra was her cousin after all. Still, as the official mentor, Enobaria was his boss until Cassandra either won or lost. He grabbed his coat on the way out.

By the time Odin was standing in front of the Training Center, a car was already waiting for him. Mars Cimber was the Victor of the Twenty-Ninth Hunger Games and one of the most popular Victors who had ever come out of Two. His connections were invaluable towards Two's victory effort.

Eternity was one of the most popular clubs in the Capitol. It operated twenty-four hours a day and was one of the best places for a Victor to find the wealthy and powerful Capitol citizens. One of the best places for sponsor hunting. And a place anyone new to the sponsor game was better off avoiding.

During the Seventy-Fourth, Odin's mentor Bruce had only allowed him to go to Eternity once, shortly after Clove had died last year. They wanted as much money as they could get for Cato, but in the end, it didn't matter. Odin was on Cassandra's team, so she was who he wanted to win. In the event she died, he was rooting for Ryker.

None of the districts in the alliance had yet to win a quell. If Two won, that would firmly put them higher than One and Four.

The front of the club blazed with neon lights, and a line of Capitol citizens extended all the way down the street. As soon as Odin climbed out of the car (the driver held the door for him), the crowd of people took one look at him before they started screaming. The bouncer looked at him and stood aside, letting Odin pass. Eternity was a well known Victor hang out, and that was one of the reasons it was so popular. Victor's were always welcome.

It didn't take much time at all to find Mars. The old Victor was sitting at the bar, chatting it up with a woman who was young enough to be his daughter. She had her hand on his leg, and it didn't take a genius to see how uncomfortable he was. His wife was still alive, baking cookies for everyone in the village. When they get back to Two, she'll probably have a batch freshly made. Hopefully with another Victor in toe.

Odin walked in next to the woman, putting his hand on her shoulder. She looked back at him and must have seen a a look in his eyes because she backed away quickly.

"You're Odin Act-"

"Always a pleasure to meet a fan," he said with his best smile. Gentle, yet firmly, he pushed the woman away. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I have some business with Mars. Official mentor business. You understand."

By her own expression, she might understand but she wasn't happy about it. Still, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving Odin to sit by one of Two's oldest Victors.

"That was well handled, my boy," Mars Cimber praised. From across the bar, two shot glasses of blue liquid were slid down the bar, Mars catching both. "She's persistent if nothing else."

"Who was she?" Odin asked, taking the glass offered to him.

"The granddaughter Cassius Lionheart," he answered.

"Who is Cassius?" Odin asked. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it.

Mars chuckled. "You don't remember a lot of what you learned into the Institute, do you? Lucius Hallow was the Head Gamemaker until he retired after the First Quarter Quell. His crowning achievement. He set the record for the longest time a Head Gamemaker remained in that position."

Odin nodded. He knew all of this. The first quarter-century had the games just getting started. Back then the games were a lot different than the end product they became. It wasn't until the nineteenth Hunger Games that it resembled what it was today.

"Well, after Lucius retired, Cassie became the next Head Gamemaker. He ran the show during my own games," Mars explained. After he finished, the memory suddenly hit Odin; he recalled learning about him in his Games History class.

"What did his granddaughter want with you?"

"The old Lion isn't doing too well. Doctors gave him a few months to live. He wants to see me before his passes. I was always his favorite Victor."

".. You don't want to go?" Odin guessed.

Mars gave a solemn nod. "I did my duty for my country boy. I did all that was asked of me. My own mentor Horus chose me personally. I was proud to spare the thirteen-year-old boy who was reaped a trip into the arena. I've been a Victor for a long time, helped pull two people out of those horrid places. I've lived a long life. But I hated being in the arena. Cassius took a lot from me in that place."

Odin was shocked. He knew of Mars from his mentor, Brutus. He talked about the old Victor a lot. Mars was the one who pulled him out of the arena. Brutus painted the picture of a strong Victor who gladly served his country. Mars sitting in front of him didn't sound that way at all. He sounded old. Tired.

"Sorry about that, my boy. You didn't come here to hear an old man's rambling." Mars reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. He put it on the wooden bar and slide it across towards Odin. A regretful look appeared in the old man's eyes. "That should help our tributes. Hopefully, you can use it to pull one of them out."

Odin took the letter and started to open it. "Not here boy," Mars said, clamping his hand over Odin's. "Somewhere private."

"Okay," Odin agreed. Mars removed his hands and tucked the letter into his jacket pocket. When he looked back at Mars, the old man's eyes bore into his.

"You've lost so much," Mars whispered quietly.

Gleam Delmas

District 1 Male Tribute

Staring out at the Capitol skyline from the roof, Gleam knew one thing for sure. He didn't want to be in the games. He didn't want to participate in the slaughter the other tributes. But Fortune and her system made that wish all but impossible, since he was cursed with the fate of being born in District 1.

Gleam wished he was back in One, not attending the Academy, but with his family. Not here, pretending to be a killer Career. The mask he put on wasn't who he wanted to be, but it was the rule he was expected to play. In the same way Gloss and Cashmere were expected to play their roles.

How might his life turned out differently had he been born in any other district? If given the choice, he'd prefer Two or Four. It was a nice dream, but no matter how much he wished otherwise, he was a One. He was going into the Hunger Games, and he'd do everything he could to come back home. Even if he had to slaughter his way out of the arena.

"How are you feeling?" Gloss asked from behind him. Gleam hadn't even heard the elevator door open. When he turned around, Gloss offered him a glass of hot chocolate.

Gleam took the cup in both hands. "As well as I can," he admitted.

"I know you don't want to be here," Gloss said, taking the spot next to him. "But you volunteered for it, no matter what Fortune did. It's not fair, but you're going to have to keep going as you have been."

"I know," Gleam muttered. He took a drink of the hot chocolate, feeling the liquid burn down his throat.

"You're trained for this. You're a member of the alliance. There's a very good chance you can make it out Gleam," Gloss encouraged. Gleam didn't meet his eyes, instead staring out at the city.

"I hate this place," he blurted out, unable to stop his mouth before it moved. For a moment he was worried about what Gloss might think of his comment, but then he realized he didn't care. He was the one who was going into the arena in a few days. He had the right to vent.

To his surprise, Gloss didn't rebuke him. "Don't ever let them hear you say that. Anyone from the Capitol. If the Gamemakers get wind of it, you'll never make it out of the arena. If you do become a Victor, the Capitol will make you regret uttering those words. But between you and me, I hate this city too."

For a moment, neither tribute or mentor spoke. Gleam was glad he wasn't alone in his hate for this place. When he won, he knew he'd hate returning to this city every year. He wondered if this was how his aunt Shimmer felt when she was in the games. Did she hate this place too? Not that he'd ever get to ask her.

"What are you thinking about?" Gloss asked, turning to look at him.

Gleam shrugged. "My aunt. Shimmer. She had come to the Capitol as well. I used to watch her interview, back at the Academy."

"Shimmer? I know a few Shimmers myself," Gloss said. Gleam wasn't surprised. Shimmer was a common name in One, though not as common as Diamond. "Are you related to Shimmer Croix?"

Gleam shook his head. "Shimmer Delmas. She was the runner up in the last quell."

Kia Railway

District 6 Female Tribute

The color of the paint swirls was so pretty. Mixing them around and around together made them even prettier. She grabbed a jar of blue and threw it on the green and brown tree bark, and watched as the paint-splattered. She giggled quietly to herself.

"This is pathetic," a voice behind her sneered. Kia turned back and saw the handsome boy from One looking at her, his arms crossed. Her eyes found his blonde hair, curling atop his head. It was such a pretty color!

"Your hair is so light," Kia said, almost wishing she could reach out and touch it. But Mercedes said she wasn't to touch any of the tributes. It was against the rules, and she didn't want to break the rules did she? Still, Kia thought it was almost worth it just to get a touch of his wonderful colors.

Kia couldn't understand why the boy's face flickered for a second until she released he was like her parents. They wore the same kind of masks, hiding behind them to protect themselves. Though his mask was a lot different. She couldn't understand what was different about it though...

"I don't want some gutter rat touching-"

"I'm sorry for you," she said, interrupting him. The boy stopped in his tracks, a startled look on his face.

"Sorry for me?" He repeated. It took him a second, but he laughed. "What do you have to feel sorry for me about? I'm going to win and become a Victor. The only Victor from One who has ever won a Quarter Quell."

Kia didn't understand what he was talking about. Quell? Victor? She thought she should know these words. They seemed to be familiar, but no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't understand them. But she did understand masks.

"You must be in a lot of pain," Kia explained. "To wear a mask like that.

The boy stared at her in open shock. Why was he doing that? Didn't he understand how painful it could be? Before she could inform him of her parents and the masks they wore, the boy turned around and left.

With nothing else to do, Kia returned to her colors on the branches, mixing in the blue.

Wren Hyde

District 10 Male Tribute

"I liked your parade costume," a voice said from his side. Wren turned his head and saw the girl from Seven smiling at him, leaning against the side of the station. "The flaming cow belt was brilliant."

Wren gave the girl a reproachful look. His stylist was an idiot and he had told the woman that fact to her face before and after the parade. That didn't win her friendship, but she was going to watch him die. The last thing he cared about was being her friend.

"Says the tree girl," Wren fired back. District 7 was the last district that should be saying that to someone else. They had been trees as long as he could remember.

The girl laughed. "Yeah, you have me there. Sequoya Gardner. You know, why don't we be allies?"

Wren blinked. He had assumed he was a forward person, but she just came out and said it. No lead up at all. "Why?"

Sequoya grinned. "My district partner isn't going to live past the first day. The Careers aren't going to take me, and the rest of them are all lambs to the slaughter."

"And I'm not?" Wren asked dryly. Other than studying at the survival stations, he had stayed near the camouflage. He had seen Peeta Mellark save himself last year with nothing but camouflage. Sure Katniss had to save him, but he had proven how useful the talent could be.

"I can swing an axe. Been working on a forest crew since I was little, but I couldn't tell you the difference between two red berries. I've seen you spending a lot of time at the survival stations," she said.

"So you want someone who can help you survive?" Wren said bluntly.

She nodded. "And in return, you get someone who can fight."

He could use a knife fairly well, but at this point in time, he didn't know if he should mention that to her. She could protect him, sure, but what happened when they were the last two left? She would put an axe through his skull. If she didn't know he could use a knife, it might put that battle in his favor. Perhaps he would be able to poison her slowly...

Suddenly he didn't feel so good. The idea of planning how to murder her? A girl he had just meant, who had done nothing to him. She was just unlucky enough to put reaped in the same games as him.

"Sure," he managed to mumble. The idea of going into the arena alone scared him, and he was happy to not be alone... A lot less happy about being the last two in the arena.

She stuck her hand out. "Nice to meet you."

Plutarch Heavensbee

Head Gamemaker

"Send them in," he called.

Leaning back in the most comfortable chair that the Capitol had to offer, Plutarch was ready to evaluate this year's worth of tributes. All of them were related to a Victor in some way, so he knew many people in the Capitol were hoping for more exciting games than usual, but just being related to a Victor didn't mean that they had any more of a chance than anyone else. The relatives of Victors had been in the games before, and they didn't always win.

As the other Gamemakers around him started in on the feast (a roasted boar, dripping with juices. Creamy pumpkins with silver nuts. Roasted birds with cream stuffed inside), he settled with a cup of the finest wine to come out of District 11.

Helene Dulac was the first tribute to enter. "You may start," he called.

To his surprise, she went straight for a whip, something she hadn't even touched in training. More than that, the one she chose had shards of glass connected to the end. She handled the whip like she had been doing it all her life. Which she probably had.

She moved over to the axes next, and threw three of them, hitting the target dead on. More than a few of his colleagues expressed their appreciation, though if it was because of Helene's skills or body, he didn't know.

She'll be in Snow's Victor ring if she wins, Plutarch thought. "You're dismissed."

Helene left with a bow. Looking down the screen in front of him, Plutarch assigned her a 9, waiting to see if any of his colleagues had anything to offer.

When no one said anything, he sent for the boy. Gleam was a tribute who attracted a few of his fellow Gamemaker's attention. Like his district partner, if he won he was going straight to Snow's ring.

He quickly went through nearly every weapon, demonstrating a level not many Career tributes have ever reached, it was impressive. When he grabbed the scythe from its place on the wall, a few people around him looked at the boy closer. The last time a Career had been skilled with a scythe was the Seventieth Hunger Games when a boy from Two cut off the head of Annie Cresta's district partner.

He swung it like the Grim Reaper himself, and Plutarch made a note to include a scythe. Either at the Cornucopia itself, or one of the rooms.

As Gleam left, Plutarch assigned him a score of 11.

Cassandra Arellius came in next, a beautiful girl in her own right. Only Two's special agreement, would shield her from Snow's ring.

Cassandra went for a katana of all things. He knew she was skilled with a standard sword, but it appeared she came alive with that weapon. Though she moved on to other weapons after she finished running through a set of attacks, Plutarch made another note to put a Katana into the arena.

As Cassandra left the room, he spoke quickly with the other Gamemakers, giving her a 10.

Ryker Bedford didn't have the same aggression as the boy from Two did last year, but like all Careers, he was skilled. He stayed away from most of the weapons, preferring knives and spears. He had only picked up a spear a few times in training, and it seemed he held back. The boy knew how to fight with them, and throw them. The same could be said with knives, though he didn't bother with any other weapons. Beyond showing he was capable of using them.

Another quick conversation and they assigned him a 9.

The boy from Three was unremarkable, and for his efforts were rewarded a 2.

The girl from Three was hardly better. According to her records, she could be the next Beetee, and he made sure to have some special equipment put in the arena for her. Still, she wasn't very impressive, and they assigned her a 3.

Margaret Crest made her way inside, another victim for the President. Like the two from One, she and her district partner were desirable enough.

She made the rounds with the weapons, seemingly at ease with any of them. She excelled at unarmed combat, skillfully dodging the trainer, and taking him down from behind. She demonstrated her knowledge of fish and promised she wouldn't go hungry in the arena if there was a source of fish.

After she left, a quiet conversation awarded her a 9.

One of the most talked-about tributes entered next. The younger brother of Finnick Odair. Finnick was one of the most popular Victors ever to come out of the games, easily ranking the top five. Neptune Odair had all his swagger and good looks. His talents with weapons were nothing to scoff at, and he could use Finnick's signature weapon almost as easily. By the time he left with little more than a wink and a smile, he was awarded a 10.

Plutarch felt sorry for him. The boy will be in the same situation as his brother if he won. Unlike Finnick though, he wouldn't have a few year reprieves. Not even Snow touched Finnick until he was sixteen. The same would not hold true for Neptune.

The girl from Five demonstrated she could start a fire and was fairly competent with a knife. They awarded her a 3 and sent her on her way. Her district partner fared little better, earning himself a 4 after he outran all the trainers.

Kia from Six spent her until the session painting a picture of the neighborhood she grew up in. They gave her a 2 and called for her partner.

Romeo Night wasn't like Kia. Like the boy from Five, he outran the trainers, but he also demonstrated an impressive agility as he dodged four out of the five rubber throwing knives. He cleverly positioned a trainer near a bush, where Romeo jumped out and cut the trainer's neck with a rubber knife. When the two other trainers rushed him, he vanished into the bushes, climbing up the fake tree by the time they got to him. He threw waves of rubber knives at them when they were close enough.

It was a close call, but in the end, he was awarded an 7 for his effort.

The tributes from Seven both showed they could swing an axe. Though they weren't the most competent tributes he had seen from the lumber district, they were good enough. They were both awarded a 6.

The girl from Eight tried to fight a trainer with a knife, but it ended with a rubber knife to her throat fifteen-seconds later. She was able to light a fire and determine which berries were good to eat. They gave her a 3.

Her district partner didn't do any better and had scored a 2 with his failure to even start a fire.

Maisie from Nine outran two trainers and climbed a tree faster than Romeo. She climbed a fake cliff face and then outran three trainers. She showed some ability with a knife, but she wasn't anything special. She was given a 5.

Wallace went straight for the sickle, a standard for tributes from his district. He knew how to use it, and cut three dummies to pieces quickly. He showed he could use knives, throw a spear well for an outlier. He wrestled a trainer to the ground and had enough force to break a neck. He was awarded an 8.

The girl from Ten herded cattle. She could use a whip, though she was nowhere near as skilled as Helene. She lit a fire, was able to last a whole minute fighting a trainer with a rubber knife, and evaded three trainers for two minutes. She was given a 5.

The boy from Ten did much the same things, only he was objectively better at each one of them. Unlike his partner, he wrested the trainer to the ground, stole his life, and stabbed the trainer in the chest. If the knife was real, he would be dead. He was given a 6.

The girl from Eleven evaded three trainers for five minutes. She could start a fire. Identified which plants and fruits were edible. She turned out to be a fairly good shoot with throwing knives, though not as good as a Career. She was given a 7.

Her district partner, a small wiry boy, evaded capture for fifteen minutes straight. He didn't attack, just ran and hide. Rather effectively ran and hide. He was given a 5.

Rye Mellark followed Peeta's rout from the year before. He wrestled two trainers at once, throw huge a weigh across the room like they were nothing, and was a fairly decent painter. Like his brother, he was given an 8.

Nelly from Twelve could light a fire and grill a squirrel. She couldn't hit the broad side of a bran with a knife, but she could run away. She was given a 3.

Once the private sessions were over, Plutarch breathed a sigh of relief. Having the numbers, he transmitted them to Flickermen for tonight, and finally decided he would have some of the feast. If nothing else, the games this year would be interesting.

Author's Note:

Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the eight chapter!

The scores Plutarch assigns the tributes are their official scores.