Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

Note: We're closing in on the end of the story now, one could almost say we're finally in the countdown to the finale. So, here's Cashmere to mark the 64th Games. What do we know of her? Mostly just that she's Gloss' sister, won the year after he did and that, like many attractive victors, Snow had her whored out. As is typical, it was enough for me to craft a story out of… with a bit of a format twist that'll soon be readily apparent. Anyways, here's a little game for ya'll – we have now reached a point where, due to canon / my other HG fics / victors being name within this story, it's possible to name all of those yet to be passed on the Walk of Victors. So, challenge time! Can you guys work out who is left from #65 up to #73? I assure you, if you've paid attention it ought to be easy. Let me know in a review if you think you have it all worked out! Good luck, and enjoy the chapter!

"Hindsight is a bitch," Katniss muttered to herself. "If we'd known back then what happened to Cashmere… maybe we could've done something. Or at least worked together and avoided an axe being…"

"Yeah," Peeta continued, not wanting to dwell on the way Cashmere died. "So many what ifs, so many maybes… it's enough to drive a person mad. You know, I remember seeing her Games when I was little. I remember the bush mutts."

"I remember her Games too, though what I mostly remember is how quickly our tributes died," Katniss glanced off to the side, haunted. "Call me crazy but I also remember Cashmere having an easy time. Well, easy by the standards of the Hunger Games."

"Maybe some of it was rigged? It's not so hard to believe. I mean, Spud's Games were clearly rigged at the end, but…" Peeta trailed off, sickened. "That had Titus, that probably doesn't count."

"Yeah," was all Katniss said. "Rest in peace Cashmere. Sorry we never got to know who you really were on the inside."

The star crossed lovers said no more, holding a respectful silence for Cashmere.

64th Annual Hunger Games

Name: Cashmere Lord

Gender: Female

District: 1

Age: 18

Kills: 8

Those within the Capitol would be mostly inclined to call me a brave, grandfatherly and loving sort of leader for our great nation.

Those out in the Districts would surely call me a tyrant, a monster and a creature from the bowels of Hell. Well, those outside One and Two mostly, but even then…

Thirteen? I don't really care to imagine what they may think of me, but it's likely nothing good.

Good? Evil? To me it's nothing quite so simple. I'm a President and a driven one at that. I'd do whatever it takes not just for my own power to be secure, but for the Capitol to stay as strong as it possibly can be. I may not have any conscious memories of the Dark Days, but I grew up around people who did and recall the aftermath of that vile mess… suffice to say, there's nothing I won't do to ensure such a thing never happens again.

If it means the Hunger Games go on for centuries and beyond, so be it. Is it cruel? Perhaps so, but it's nothing to a real war. Look at it through simple math; what's twenty three lives compared to tens of thousands? Nothing whatsoever.

Only a complete stranglehold on the districts will keep us all from going extinct.

If I happen to gain a vast array of wealth and power beyond my past self's dreams in the process, who would I be to refuse it? Much of it has been a gift or the wage of the job.

I pour myself a drink of the finest wine. It's not often I open up a fresh bottle of Panem's finest, but as it's reaping day… why not? It's a grand occasion, one worth celebrating.

I can't help wondering, sometimes, what Thirteen may think as they watch the reapings in their gloomy underground bunkers. Oh, sure, we can't exactly confirm if they have tuned into our broadcasts – their signal jammers from the Dark Days make that a difficult matter – but if they happen to do so… I'd rather hope the guilt consumes them. Destroys them. Abandoning their brethren to their fate? Not quite behaviour I can claim to approve of. I take life for very specific reasons. They pulled out before anything was truly lost.

"So, dad, which district do you think will win this year?"

My daughter Silver looks at me with wide, curious eyes. Seated on her lap is my darling granddaughter, Rhonda. Just shy of her second birthday and already she's the most wonderful thing in this crazy world of ours. I imagine that, as she grows older, I'll be unable to resist spoiling her.

Silver and her husband Dionysus look at me, eager for my opinion. My wife, Agnes, is similarly curious. I can't help but smirk – it's nice that one's opinion is so sought after. A reminder that, even when away from public eye and merely having breakfast with my family, my power is absolute.

Best of all, I know exactly where to hedge my bets.

"District One, no doubt about it," I pause to butter my toast. "The female, if I was forced to pick one of their tributes right now."

"Why's that dad?" Silver asks.

"Oh, call it a gut feeling my dear," I let out a soft chuckle. "Your dear old dad is never wrong, right?"

One by one they all laugh and agree, seeing no reason to doubt my claims. Truthfully I have no reason to doubt my own claim either. Sure, nothing is ever certain in the Games aside the fact only one can get out. Well, aside that incident in the Fifty Fifth Games. Anyway, the point is that while things are not certain… they can be given certain fixes.

I first saw Cashmere on-screen during the family interviews of last year's Games. Just a few minutes of footage told me everything I needed to know. She's Gloss' weakness, he'd do absolutely anything to keep her safe. That was the whole reason he volunteered, after all.

More importantly, it was clear that the girl was a natural beauty. It was even more clear once wealth entered her life thanks to Gloss' win. When you add this and the prior fact together it creates an obvious sort of plan to follow.

I paid Gloss a visit. I, admittedly, do not visit victors particularly often unless it's Bronze or Olga. But this time I had to make an exception.

I knew that I needed Cashmere in the Games. The novelty of twin victors is one those who live in this grand city will eat right up.

More than that, they'd pay me hundreds of thousands of Caps for her body. Why ever would I say no to that kind of profit?

All it took to ensure Cashmere would be trained up by her brother and enter the Games was the simple threat that a bullet would go into her brain if Gloss refused my demands and that, if they were to tell anybody about anything, a random area of One would be set ablaze. One full of children. They bent the knee and submitted not long after that.

As I said, I only take life for specific reasons.

Between her life of survival on the streets and a year of proper training and high quality living I believe Cashmere is ready for the Games. I doubt she will leave me disappointed. But, on the off chance she does, there will surely be other tributes who would make fine winners. Perhaps one of the Twos, or even a Three. I always found District Three a bit underrated by the common rabble that watch the Games.

But, I'm getting lost in my own head. On screen a girl is reaped from the sixteen year old sections. She's only on the stage for a moment before, as expected, Cashmere volunteers and takes her place.

I must give credit where it's due, Cashmere is a great actress. Anybody not wise to what's going on behind the scenes – so, everybody aside myself, some ministers and a the gamemakers – would just assume she's another powerful tribute from One, perhaps eager to share in her brother's wealth.

Gloss can't hide his worry, but I shan't punish him for it this time. The simple fact they are related can explain it away, no harm done.

I don't pay overly much attention to the tributes after that. I'd asked for a slightly weaker crop of outliers to make it less obvious that Cashmere is supposed to win, and it seems this was interpreted to mean 'a clump of snivelling, skinny children aged between twelve and fourteen, with one random fifteen year old for variety'.

"You were right dad," Silver says. "Cashmere's going to win. No doubt about it."

"How do you make such accurate predictions before even seeing the tributes?" Dionysius asks, awed.

I just chuckle softly. "It all comes down to politics and my own intuition. Anyway, I'd best to getting off. There's work to be done down at the office."

Silver, of course, asks to come with me. Even Agnes seems like she'd want to see me work for just one day, but I have to refuse them. On the surface it's all about safety and keeping them out of public eye. Best nobody know exactly who my family are, lest Rhonda come to any harm.

Really though, I'd rather not let them get close to any sort of power. I've seen Silver's ideas and plans for what she hopes to do when she, one day, becomes president. Big ambitions, big goals.

I'm not blind to the fact I will die one day and that somebody will succeed me, but that day isn't for a while yet. Sometimes I feel unsure if Silver is really the best candidate.

I put it to the back of my mind. Such thoughts can be dealt with later on.

Sometimes it can be hard to pay attention during meetings, even after all the years I've held onto the role as president. Whether it's the people speaking to me being some combination of stupid or impossible to like, the topic being overall pointless or just me being in a bad mood the end result is the same.

I have to force myself to stay awake.

Anybody would have trouble keeping their eyes open if they had to listen to Cressida Nova, the Minister of Citizen Welfare, making a presentation about the dangerous conditions in the power plans within Five.

It's not like she's wrong – they are dangerous – but I don't see a reason to change a thing. The more downtrodden the districts are the easier it is to keep power and avoid war.

If it slows down our production by a few hours, so be it.

I say all the usual things about how we'll consider it, ask others for their own input, send scouts to Five to check people as they work. It's code for 'sit down and shut up'. The only reason her job exists is because it's always been there ever since Panem came to be. It's tradition more than anything. The only citizens she could actually be permitted to do anything for are those in the Capitol and they, typically, want for nothing.

Granted, it's not like Cressida gives a damn about those out in the districts, it's more that she wants production to be quicker.

Time passes painfully slowly, the only break from the monotony of the meeting room being a broadcast of Caesar and Claudius making early predictions and theories about the tributes, all from the reaping alone.

I'll give Caesar one thing, he's right that Cashmere is one to watch. As I gaze at the repeat broadcast of the family interview she took part in for Gloss last year I imagine that the Capitol citizens will be watching her too.

They always did love pretty things ever so much.

I've always had a sort of fondness for the parade. The rather comically terrible costumes are a guilty pleasure of mine and it's good to see the tributes. It's easier to pick out any possible rebels and problem when I can see them down below me rather than on screen.

Suffice to say, nobody this year is likely to become a problem.

Cashmere looks delightful in the outfit her stylist came up with. Feathers, rubies and nothing else. I'm sure people will be calling up to ask about the first purchases before the night is over.

I can't deny that Two, Three and surprisingly Six looks really good this year with the gladiator, cyborg and nascar costumes respectively, but none can really hold a candle to Cashmere and, to a lesser degree, her partner. The boy, named Chocolate if I recall it rightly, certainly makes the gem and feather combo work. Still, he's a very distant second to Cashmere.

The chariots all come to a stop at the ground beneath my balcony one by one. Some tributes look excited, others determined and several look like they're about to start crying. I pay no mind, never being one to let my emotions show.

It's easy enough to accomplish that when you feel nothing for those in the chariots, aside seeing the associated opportunities for profit and power.

My earpiece comes to life. "President, Sir, you're live."

The crowd quietens down quickly as I take my position at the front of the balcony, just as it does every year. It's a testament to my power that this is possible – anybody alive knows how infamously hard it is to get the citizens of this city to remain calm and quiet.

"Welcome, welcome. It's time once more for another Hunger Games. Welcome to our fair city, tributes. We honour your bravery, your sacrifice and how by taking part in our sacred tradition you're playing a grand role in securing our nation's future," I look down at the tributes. I may look almost grandfatherly to the cameras, but I want there to be no mistaking that I won't tolerate any trouble from a single one of them. "Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour!"

A short speech, but in my experience keeping things short and to the point often works. Why overcomplicate things?

I glance down at Cashmere as the District One chariot makes its way towards the tribute building. She continues to smile and wave for the citizens, earning a few roses in response.

As far as she knows she's just here for the novelty of twin victors and to keep herself from being shot. She has no idea about the odds being very much in her favour nor how she'll be meeting quite a few dozen citizens, all very interested in her.

Oh, but she'll know soon enough.

I'm getting ahead of myself again. That can all come later. I should be getting back home or I'll miss Agnes' roast beef. That's certainly not something I can allow to happen.

It might strike the common folk as odd, but sometimes I babysit Rhonda when Silver isn't able to care for her. She's a busy woman after all.

I find it concerning that she's busy toadying up to a few ministers here and there. I'm sure she's not trying to have me replaced or overthrown, I know her well enough to trust she'd never contemplate such a thing, but her desire for power is concerning.

Honestly, all but Rhonda get that way. I haven't missed how Agnes and Dionysus sometimes look jealous of my absolute power. I fear it might end up proving to be a negative influence on Rhonda. Perhaps, after Games season, I might see about doing something about it.

Presently Rhonda sit on my lap, babbling something that hardly resembles any real words that I know of. Simply darling.

My attention is torn between Rhonda and what is being broadcast to the screen of my personal laptop. Footage of what's going on in the training centre. Typically nobody outside of the staff of the Hunger Games is supposed to see the training days as they happen, but there are certain exceptions when you're the most powerful man in the country.

I'm not disappointed by what I'm seeing.

Many of the half-starved tributes are not handling themselves well. Most are haphazard and even a bit erratic in their movements around the training centre. They clearly have no idea what they are doing. It's to be expected, most of the tributes being too young to know how to properly hold a weapon.

That or they're just not strong enough to do so.

The career alliance, as it often is, consists of the Ones and the Twos. No Fours this year, but honestly it feels like the days of District Four being careers are starting to come towards the end. They never did put up anywhere as strong of a fight as One and Two.

Cashmere continues to surprise me. No doubt per Gloss' suggestion she's taken to mocking the outliers. The gamemakers tend to always like that, and it does assert a primal sort of dominance, so it's certainly not a bad idea.

That in itself wouldn't surprise me. No, the thing that surprises me is that she's doing this while performing a complicated gymnastics routine on poles and hoops. It's honestly quite compelling.

I'm sure the sponsors lined up for her will appreciate that sort of flexibility.

The scores came out not long ago. It was nothing outside of what I had been expecting in this year of an average career pack and a surplus of weak outliers. Mostly just threes, fours and the odd five here and there. Cashmere and Chocolate both scored nines while their counterparts from Two manage eights. Lower than what I'd expected, but I can't say I'm complaining.

It all makes it easier for my planned goal to come to pass. I can have things rigged, but only so much. Too much riggage and the Games lose their feeling of all consuming fear and may incite rebellions. Not to mention the Games have a habit of sometimes going off the rails at a moment's notice. Nothing is certain.

"Sir, are you listening? I am here to show you the mutts, not to waste your time nor mine."

"Oh, right. Yes Iris, continue."

If only I could be lucky enough to spend my night sitting around thinking over what the scores might mean for the Games ahead. Instead, I have to look over some of the mutts prepared for the Games this year. Normally this doesn't bother me – it's not as if the mutts are going to get loose and I've long been desensitised to them – but recently it's not been the mutts I've had a problem with.

It's the one creating them, Iris Persephone.

I sit quietly in my seat, watching Iris as she calmly goes through a presentation about what she's called Mutt Project XJD-5Z, otherwise referred to as bush mutts. It's the standard sort of affair; their abilities, the ways they will kill tributes, how they work on a genetic level. All typical things to hear.

Iris though… she just has this habit of being so unnerving to be near. I'm not claiming to be a paragon, certainly not, but Iris is something else. Her lack of emotion as she creates vile poisons, horrific mutts, runs tests on humans… it's sinister how she doesn't emote, merely staring with that sniper reticule eye of hers almost gazing into the soul of those she looks at.

I fidget slightly in my seat as she looks at me, speaking about the bush mutts and their capacity to tear out hearts. Why did I hire this woman again? I've never been able to stay in the same room as her for long, even before she became the head of genetics!

The worst part is that she's only fifteen. At the time it seemed hiring a historically smart prodigy like her, creepy or not, for this job was a great idea. Oh how wrong I was.

At the very least nobody has to know how much she creeps me out. Nobody has to know… so long as I survive another half hour of this.

How much worse can the bush mutts be than the reptiles last year or the scorpion mutt that stung Enobaria in the year before that?

"Observe," she says, devoid of emotion. "This simulation should accurately explain what is expected to happen if the bush mutts can get a tribute under the age of sixteen into their grasp for upwards of two seconds."

I don't think I'll ever work out how I hold back my vomit when the bush mutt on screen gets to work. What in the name of the Capitol is it doing?! The Games are meant to be a punishment for the Districts to watch, not the President!

"Is something wrong, Sir?" Iris asks, staring at me in the exact worst sort of way. "You wanted aggressive and terrifying mutts. I made them for you. Is this not what you wanted?"

"It is," I don't have the nerve to contradict this creepy young woman. "It is Iris. Good work. Is that all?"

"No sir. We have five more simulations to go through. I followed all your instructions, however vague they were, so I think you'll feel impressed."

I'd ask what I did to deserve this, but I can think of a few things. If this is the price for power over the nation, so be it. Some things are worth dealing with this woman.

Well, usually.

Most are required to pay a high fee to be able to watch the interviews life, especially for seats at the front of the venue. Quite a few are either beaten to the tickets or cannot afford them to begin with, forced to watch the show from their homes.

Being President I, of course, have free entry and the same holds true for my family. As always we're seated up in my private box, a comfy seat set out for all of us.

If any of my family have worries about the peacekeepers stranding guard with rifles then they do not show it. It's something people get used to after a while in the Capitol, no matter who they are. Even my ministers have guns pointed their way when approaching me, even if just to wish me a good afternoon. Just necessary security measures, nothing more. A president can never be too carefulk.

Orion wasn't careful enough and I took full advantage. I can't help smiling, amused he got so cocky in his last years and assumed himself invincible. He was so distracted by the disastrous few Games in the first half of the fourth decade that he forgot to watch those who were closest to him. What a fool.

"Dad, it's starting!" Silver giggles to herself, positively giddy at Caesar finishes off the pre-show warm up.

"So it is. Well then, let's see how it goes," I lean a little closer, unable to hide my interest in what Cashmere's interview might be like.

I'm not waiting for long. As always the girl from One is the tribute slot to start off the night. Cashmere enters the stage to even more applause than I'd expected. Clearly the favourite of the typical Capitol citizen… for more than one reason. The tiny silver dress she's wearing and the way her hair's been done up certainly gives the crowd something nice to look at.

Caesar keeps things moving along quick and concise for the first minute or so. It's standard interview fair, asking Cashmere if she feels prepared (she does), is she has a favoured weapon (knives), whether her district partner or the boy from Two is cuter (the boy from Two is, apparently) and what sort of arena she's hoping for (a forest and city fusion).

I lean forth somewhat when the topic is bought around to why Cashmere entered the Games and her bond with Gloss. She'd best pick her words very carefully from here on in, both for her own sake and that of her brother.

"Gloss has always been my idol. My hero. He's always been everything to me and when we were growing up… I wanted to be just like him," she speaks the truth, so far at least. "I guess you could say I wanted to be just like him. If he can become a victor then so can I. He taught me all of his moves and he's mentoring me too. We're a perfect team."

"Sounds like you have the best chance going into the Games. Our statistics team are calling you the most likely winner. How do you feel about that?" Caesar asks.

"I don't know, how do you feel about being the face of the Hunger Games?" Cashmere puts on a cheeky grin. "I love it!"

"That's the enthusiasm I love to hear!" Caesar exclaims, as grand as I've come to expect from him. "I wish you all the best Cashmere."

"Oh Caesar, you're such a darling," Cashmere lets out what I can only describe as the fakest posh laugh in the history of the nation, not that the audience seem able to tell. "With your support and that of all the audience I'm sure I'll make it back soon enough."

Cashmere leaves the stage to loud applause and many people chanting her name. She's certainly a smash hit and the show's only just begun. The rest are going to be hard pressed to do better than her.

All according to plan. All she has to do now is fight hard, avoid death in the opening minutes and look pretty for the cameras.

I think she can do that. I'm sure she got my message loud and clear – if she dies then an accident can be arranged for Gloss. Not enough to kill him, merely enough to leave him crippled or blind. I'll confess that I've not decided which one just yet.

"Dad, stop daydreaming! The boy from One's coming on!" Silver's voice jerks me out of my thoughts.

Perhaps I'll listen to her this time. After all, I have the best seat there is. Why not enjoy it for the rest of the show? Who knows, maybe one of the interviews might be funny.

I have to say, the gamemakers certainly provided a fine arena for the Games this year. Last year had great tributes, but the arena didn't really click with me. But this? I can see this actually being rather entertaining, provided it wraps up in under two weeks.

It's a massive hedge maze. I doubt even I could find my way out of that one, the hundreds of pathways through it stretching on for miles. No doubt tributes might drive themselves insane trying to search for a way forward they'll never be able to find.

Cashmere stands at the pedestal directly in front of the cornucopia, between the pair from Nine. She's as focused and vicious as I could have hoped for. I'd certainly hope she keeps it up because if she doesn't act vicious for the cameras then her brother will suffer for it.

Ah, morals and standards. I really do pity those that are bound by them. It makes life a lot more needlessly hard than it is to begin with.

As is often the case I'm having to work while the Games begin. Petitions and information for my ministers to deal with that simply cannot wait. A thankless part of the job, but where would my nation be if it was put off?

"District Eight is asking-"

"Deny them," I don't need to hear the rest of what Egeria, Minister of Interior, has to say about Eight. "They're never behaving and now they want something? If anything we should cut their rations and wages by forty percent. Next?"

"The peacekeepers found Porsche streaking in the Capitol's grandest park again," Leto, the Chief of Propaganda, says. "They're asking what they should do with her. I know the Capitol is sex positive and public nudity isn't that high on the list of national incidents, but it's still poor form."

"Same as always, give her a day in solitary. Chassis can just take over mentoring her tribute, if she survives the bloodbath," I pause to pour myself a drink. "Actually, will Chassis even live that long either? What was it the man has, cancer?"

"Yes, but he's stable for now," Leto glances off to the side. "I hope he dies soon. Maybe then people can start forgetting the Thirty First Games."

"We can only hope," I glance at the screen, noting the tributes are on the move. "Ah, looks like it's all kicking off. But, let's not get distracted, we should… hmm, not bad."

I'll give credit where it's due, it was clever of the boy from Seven to tackle the boy from Ten an instant before the gong rang. Sure enough he's already smashing the boy's head onto the pedestal, the mines deactivated before he hit the ground.

Too bad for him he's not watching his back. How simple it is for Cashmere to throw a knife into his back. She doesn't stop there, barely pausing before her second knife is thrown into the throat of the pitiful girl from Twelve.

She truly is the sister of a victor. She's taken down a further two tributes by the time the outliers have the good sense to evacuate the area and her final knife leaves the girl from Four bleeding rather painfully. Is it any wonder really why approximately forty percent of the bets have been placed upon her?

"Thirteen deaths. Not bad," Antonius, the Minister of Defence, notes. He practically drools at the sight of all the blood and bodies. Such an animal. "Shame it couldn't be fifteen. It's always so… fascinating when so many die at the start and so few scatter away in the aftermath."

"No, it's just dull," Leto replies. "That basically happened in the Fifty Second Games. Sure, Anchor's powerful and loyal to the Capitol, but it only lasted twenty three hours. Pathetic."

"Silence," they obey me from the moment I say it. "The Games are about scaring the districts and keeping them under control. If a long Games does that, good. If a short Games does that, also good. Besides, it's a maze, the more survivors the more chance it might get dull."

I tap the papers in front of me, diverting the attention of my ministers from the screens and back to the task at hand. Right now it's just showing the pack sorting through the cornucopia's bounty and the remaining outliers fleeing for their lives. Nothing we need to waste time watching.

"So, it says here the fence outside District Twelve is never properly working. Not enough electricity or something," I pause, thinking it over. "It's Twelve. I feel like that power would be better used on our own city. Everybody in agreement?"

Naturally, they all are. Only a fool would do otherwise.

The only sour point on the meeting comes when I find a petition from Silver in with the rest of my papers. A petition for resources to start an all new district. District Fourteen – Muttations.

How very ambitious of her…

If not for the bush mutts these Games would be set to last far too long. I've not got the patience for a Games to last for the painfully long time the Ninth and Forty Fourth did. There have been two kills since the bloodbath and both of them were because of the bush mutts.

Admittedly I ended up being sick after witnessing both kills, but it's a small price to pay if it keeps the districts in complete submission.

I try to enjoy my afternoon coffee break, watching the Games with one eye and keeping an eye on the news feed upon my phone with the other, but it's hard to do that when I feel so tired. Signing my approval for executions and whippings is hard work.

At least Cashmere is providing no shortage of entertainment. She's a natural at leading the pack, the other three content to fall in line and let her guide them through the maze. Perhaps not to any tributes, but with the arena being as it is I think she can be allowed some leniency.

I watch the careers through live feed of my laptop, the four making their way down the long corridors of the hedge maze, utterly lost. The helpful map displayed on screen by the gamemakers makes it easy for the audience to keep track of everything, but the tributes have no such luck.

Not even Cashmere. I may intend for her to win, but there are limits I cannot cross. It won't do to make it too obvious. There's rigging and then there's rigging.

"Where do we go now?" Chocolate asks as the four arrive at a junction. "Left or right?"

"Hmmmm… right?" Cashmere suggests. "We don't know what's ahead. Each path is about as good as the other, right?"

"It'd be better if we could find a few tributes," the boy from Two grumbles, bringing up the rear as the pack keep moving.

"Ditto," says the girl from Two. "C'mon Cashmere, find us some prey! I didn't train for fourteen years only to spend my Games walking through a maze for fun."

"We'll find them soon," Cashmere shakes her head, a little annoyed herself. "The gamemakers might send one of them towards us soon."

The four all stop when a terrified scream fills the air. They don't know what happened but us lucky viewers know better. The screen shows the final moments of the boy from Ten as another hedge mutts tears him to pieces and devours what's left of him after that.

I wouldn't count myself among the lucky viewers come to think of it.

By the time I swallow back the vomit the careers are on the move again, only to come to a dead end. As is inevitable in the Games a big argument breaks out amongst the careers, the Twos yelling at Cashmere for getting them lost and far from any actual prey while Cashmere fires back that it's not her fault. Chocolate just watches the whole thing silently, clearly choosing to not get involved. Smart of him, indeed.

The argument only ends when a particularly massive bush mutt spawns from several dozen meters away and begins to make its way towards the pack. Chocolate and the Twos turn to fight it while Cashmere backs away. Is she becoming a coward? That certainly won't do.

Ah, of course. I'm surprised I didn't see it coming sooner. Especially after the way the girl from Two had a knife to Cashmere's chin mere moments ago. She's climbing right up the side of the hedge maze one grasp at a time. The walls are eight meters tall but clearly Gloss trained her well. She's up to the top far quicker than I would have deemed possible.

The rest of her alliance kill the bush mutt, only to become confused by Cashmere's disappearance. She doesn't take the chance to throw knives at them, content to simply head further away into the maze upon the wall tops. Quite smart of her, really, to hide her location and her advantage.

It reminds me of when I was a little boy and saw Runa do very much the same sort of thing in her own arena. Perhaps Cashmere might take Runa's place as a Games icon once she passes on. With Runa being so old now it surely won't be long until she does.

All the more reason Cashmere has to win.

I don't expect these Games to last for much longer, even with how the arena is so vast. Cashmere's clever plan to climb upon the maze has saved her from two threats in one go. Not only can the other tributes not reach her but neither can the bush mutts.

Cashmere, meanwhile, has no such issues when it comes to attacking the others. I'm left smirking when she's able to find tributes and throw knives down at them. One knife to the chest and they're dead before they know what's even happening to them. She's made seven kills so far in the Games and I see no reason that she cannot claim more for herself by the time it's over.

Between Cashmere's knife throwing and the bush mutts making short work of the weak crop of tributes it's little surprise that nobody thinks the Games will last longer than six days. That says a lot when one considers this is the sixth day. Just five tributes remaining and base don the way Chocolate has been cornered by three bush mutts it's probably going to become four very soon.

I turn away, unwilling to taint my mind more than it already has been. I think after this I'll have to put my foot down and tell Iris to knock it off with the bush mutts. Literally anything else would be better than them.

I pay the Games no more mind for the time being. Between Cashmere, the pair from two and the girl from Six it's pretty obvious what the outcome will be.

Imagine all the money I'll be making.

For the time being I busy myself with signing some new laws into effect. A ten cent pay increase for Capitol citizens, food deductions for district citizens, approvals for training requests for Olga's career academy, stricter curfew in District Eight… it all become repetitive after a while.

The monotony is broken when I glimpse an unexpected piece of paper. Hmm, seems like Agnes, Silver and even Dionysius fancy the chance to be permitted to govern over Districts Eleven and Twelve for a few months. 'Practise for future opportunities' they claim.

Hmmmmm… I don't like their sudden desire for a bit more power. I don't like it one bit.

"I suppose I knew this day was coming soon enough. The day my family grow from lambs to lions," I pour out a small shot glass of wine for myself. "They've really come a long way over the years."

I'm left choking on my drink when I turn back to the TV. Of course I'd have to look at the moment where a bush mutt is eating the girl from Two and Cashmere fell from the top of the hedges and crushes the boy from Two's head. Her left arm looks nasty, a little bone exposed, but even so she should be able to kill the girl from Six.

If not, so be it, Gloss will pay for it.

I can't help smiling as I set the victor's crown upon Cashmere's head. Sure enough, she killed the girl from Six like she was nothing. The nation's newest victor stands before me perfectly obedient and without any signs of trouble making, almost like a doll ready to be played with.

"You fought well," I tell her, smiling. "Good work. You've truly earned the right to join your brother in riches, forgiveness of your ancestor's crimes and whatever your heart may desire."

"Thank you sir," she says, soft like a mouse. "If it's possible… what I really desire is to go home."

"That can be easily arranged. Come the morning you'll be making your way back home where you belong," I give her another smile. "I'm sure you'll find your new manor to your liking, but something tells me you and Gloss will likely be sharing his own home. Fine with me. Use your property however you'd like, even as storage space."

"Yes sir," she glances off to the side for a moment and then at me. "Um… I did everything you said. I followed every demand. Are we, um… cool now? We good?"

"I'd say we are. Just one more task and we can call everything perfectly clear," I gesture lightly t the crowd behind me. They, of course, cannot hear us. Not when we're up here and they're cheering mindlessly down there. "There were many people who became fans of you. Some sponsored a good deal of money towards your victory. They'd like to meet you."

"Meet me? So… meeting my fans?" she remains cautious, but manages a tiny smile. "That sounds nice."

"Oh, it is. Lots of victors do the same thing. The system works for everybody," I pass a small slip of paper into her hand. "This man wants to meet you tonight. He was your first sponsor."

I turn away from Cashmere to address the crowd. All it takes to have them exploding into a frenzy of cheering is to have Cashmere wave to them and for me to name her as the sixty fourth victor.

Cashmere would do well to perform her victor's duty tonight very well. After all, I've got dozens of appointments lined up for her. I'm sure Gloss will do his part to help her get ready for it, but there's only so much he can do.

His company was not purchased for tonight. Only Cashmere. She'll have to navigate the Capitol without her big brother, for at least a couple hundred nights. After that, we'll see.

I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself yet again. All this thinking and planning… and I've not even joined my family for a spot of post-Games tea just yet.

"I'm fine, really. I'm fine," I tell the doctor, trying not to wheeze too badly.

"I'm sure you are Mr President. We just want to make sure of that, medically speaking. This was one of the worst assassination attempts yet," the doctor frowns, disturbed. "We're lucky you thought ahead to carry an antidote."

It all happened so fast. One moment I'm drinking some fine tea with the rest of my family. The next moment I'm gasping and grabbing for an antidote while they choke and die all around me. Only Rhonda was spared, having not been given tea to begin with.

She sleeps in the bed set up beside my own, oblivious to what has become of her parents and grandmother. I suppose it falls to me to be the one to raise her from now on, all alone. It's the least the poor girl deserves.

"I'll be back shortly. I'll see if I can do something about those sores in your mouth," the doctor salutes me before he reaches the door. "I'm sorry for your losses Mr President."

"Thank you…" I turn away for a moment. "Don't hurry back too quickly. I'd like to be alone for a while."

"I understand. Again, sorry for your losses."

I watch him leave, not averting my gaze until his footsteps are gone. Only then do I allow myself to smirk. There's only one person who knows the full truth and it's not that doctor.

Things went the same way they almost always do. Associates of mine craving more power than they have any right to lay claim to, enough to start threatening me, and of course me being left to deal with the emerging problem before it goes too far.

Associate. Family. What's the difference? My power is questioned either way and must be protected. Perhaps it's partly my own fault for not doing more to control the desires Silver, Agnes and Dionysius had. I can control the nation, but why not three people?

One look at Rhonda, sleeping soundly, and I resolve to do better with her. I'll raise her to be polite, want for nothing, never question my power, depend on me for help and have no desire to make changes to the status quo. Yes, it'll be perfect. She'll be perfect.

I'm not surprised when Bronze walks into the room, still as much an arrogant and sociopathic human being as he was when we first met so very long ago. Perhaps the victor who most benefited from the Capitol's regime. From my own power.

He holds a bouquet of white roses and a get well card, no doubt his cover for being my visitor. Poor cover, but the common folk in this city would not question it. We've been openly on good terms for decades, who would question it if he came to visit me?

"So, killing your own family? That's pretty brutal Cory," he glances over to Rhonda. "You missed one."

"She'll be moulded into my successor. Rest assured, if you're still alive by then she'll ensure you continue to live in luxury," I idly offer Bronze a bottle of wine from my bedside. "I have no need for it."

"You're the best," he says, laughing between gulps of the drink.

I've got no reason to poison Bronze or indeed make any sort of threat to him. Why would I take out my closest ally when all that's needed to keep his loyalty is provide him with all the riches and women he desires, something all too easy for me to accomplish? I take life for specific reasons and there's no reason for me to kill Bronze.

There was, however, specific reasons to get rid of Silver, Agnes and Dionysius.

Cashmere would do well to not give me a reason to take the lives of people she may care about.

Before long the silence for the fallen victor came to an end. With one last gaze at Cashmere's imprinted face Katniss and Peeta continued walking down the street.

It was no more than a few seconds before they reached the next face on the ground. The face looking back at them was that of a cocky, sly and particularly cheeky looking young boy. His hair was immaculately groomed and windswept, the look of a true winner adorning his face. It was no shock that this face, imprinted into concrete as it was, had the potential to send Capitol women into fits of squealing and swooning.

"Finnick…" Katniss said, looking faraway all of a sudden. Memories of the mutts in the sewer filled up her head.

Peeta could only cover his face, his heart aching for the loss of his friend.

There we go, Cashmere's tale of woe! Another victor I really wanted to get into, what with the struggles of prostitution and how, given the money Snow makes off of this vile scheme, riggage may have been somewhat in play here to boost his finances. Hope you guys liked Cashmere and also found Snow's narration and typical daily life interesting, maybe even sinister? Quite the bearded old bastard isn't he? But you know isn't? Finnick! Stay tuned for the legend of District Four!

Stats

District 1: Peridot Gaudy (8th Games), Crystal McCree (14th Games), Bronze Marley (19th Games), Crown Martins (24th Games), Dollar Dettwieller (32nd Games), Mascara Court (41st Games), Platinum Twist (44th Games), Gloss Lord (63rd Games), Cashmere Lord (64th Games)

District 2: Baron Overwhill (4th Games), Runa Peace (7th Games), Olga Machete (10th Games), Rook Valiant (17th Games), Boulder Atherston (20th Games), Vercingetorix Carnby (25th Games), Dragon Batofel (27th Games), Rhyder Overwhill (39th Games), Mercy Gregor (46th Games), Brutus Gunn (49th Games), Lyme Rabe (51st Games), Enobaria Golding (62nd Games)

District 3: Honorius Perthshire (5th Games), Pi Orbit (22nd Games), Beetee Latier (37th Games), Wiress Plummer (47th Games), Yohan Fairbane (58th Games)

District 4: Museida Selkirk (3rd Games), Mags Flanagan (11th Games), Tide Luther (23rd Games), Librae Ogilvy (35th Games), Anchor Paddock (52nd Games)

District 5: Shunt Gaspar (12th Games), Isobel Sparks (18th Games), Crimson Flanders (29th Games), Porter Tripp (38th Games), Neon Erg (48th Games), Wattzon Holmes (55th Games), Arendellian Spinner III (57th Games)

District 6: Chassis Macalister (31st Games), Bentley Corduroy (54th Games), Porsche London (56th Games)

District 7: Pliny Aransio (2nd Games), Fir Buzz (9th Games), Jack Tylos (21st Games), Snag Nakamura (34th Games), Blight Jordan (53rd Games), Logger Barlow (61st Games)

District 8: Woof Casino (16th Games), Paige Murphy (30th Games), Spool Nylon (42nd Games), Cecelia Mog (60th Games)

District 9: Mizar Aldjoy (1st Games), Gwenith Rosebud (13th Games), Teff Withers (28th Games), Laurel Flamsteel (36th Games), Tabbock Summers (43rd Games), Trevy Vex (Escaped 55th Games)

District 10: Stallion March (26th Games), Lammy Phyronix (40th Games), Pasture Gallows (59th Games)

District 11: Bear Redfoot (15th Games), Seeder Howell (33rd Games), Chaff Mitchell (45th Games)

District 12: Duke Saint-Rose (6th Games), Haymitch Abernathy (50th Games)