Andromeda Pike (Mistress of Ceremonies)
"Good evening, Panem, and welcome to Hunger Games tonight. I'm Andromeda Pike, your Mistress of Ceremonies and the fount of knowledge from which all things Hunger Games flow.
"My guest tonight is a man I'm sure you all know well. He served us faithfully for forty-three years as a gamemaker, the last fifteen of which he spent in the head role, before stepping down a few days ago to spend more time with his family.
"He's had a hand in some of the most spectacular and awe-inspiring events in Hunger Games history. And tonight, he joins us live in the studio to share his thoughts on this year's Games and the twenty-four tributes who will make them legendary.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Tiberius Bright.
"Tiberius, thank you for joining us tonight," I say, my voice light and playful, a small, tired smile on my face.
"Thank you for having me, Andromeda. It's nice to get out of the house," he replies, his tone flat and professional with just a hint of excitement bubbling under the surface.
"I'm sure it is. Though I imagine Ishara only let you out so she could get ready for the Victor's Gala in peace."
"Oh, there's no doubt about that. In fact, I believe her exact words were; 'for the love of God, please go do the interview. I can't get ready with you in the house.'"
"That's actually an amazing impression of her, Tiberius. I can't wait to see what she thinks of it. Maybe you should show it to her tonight at the party?"
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me in trouble, Andromeda."
"Oh, perish the thought, Tiberius," I laugh, a shy, wicked little smile on my lips as I shoot the camera a playful little wink before continuing.
"That being said, we are a bit pressed for time. We only have about an hour or so before the Gala starts, and none of us wants to be late for the party of the century.
"But we do have enough time to get your thoughts on the interviews while everything is still relatively fresh in your mind."
"Then please, ask away."
"Alright then.
"Now, we all know that an interview can make or break a tribute. We saw it last year with Athena. She went from being squarely in the middle of the pack to the betting favorite almost overnight. And her interview was a big part of the reason why.
"So, I'm curious. Do you think any of the interviews tonight had that kind of game-changing impact?"
"To be honest, it's difficult to tell at this point. We won't know how the interviews affected the victory odds until the experts release them tomorrow morning, and I'm nowhere near qualified to venture a guess on such a complex and intricate system."
"That's fair," I say, my voice tinged with disappointment. "In that case, were there any interviews that stood out to you?"
"There were a few," he admits, his answer intentionally vague and cagey to the point of being annoying, forcing me to ask him a question I really shouldn't have to ask.
"Would you care to elaborate?" I finally ask, my voice light and playful with just a hint of bite.
"I don't see why not.
"But I want to preface this by saying that all twenty-four of the interviews were good in their own way. But we didn't really learn anything about most of the tributes that we didn't already know.
"That wasn't the case with Dana, Leandra, Sarah Beth, or Ashton. And that's why their interviews stand head and shoulders above the rest in my eyes."
"That's quite the interesting quartet, Tiberius. What about their interviews was so intriguing?"
"Well, with Sarah Beth, I think the answer is pretty obvious. Her impassioned plea for support from the fans to help her beat the odds so she can save the life of her dying friend was incredibly moving. There wasn't a dry eye in the theater once she was done talking, and I would honestly be shocked if there was a dry eye anywhere in Panem.
"Dana and Leandra are in the same boat, but on a much more personal level. Each of them is fighting to save the life of other, and their reasons for doing so are intimately and hauntingly beautiful.
"The two of them managed to find something in each other that so many of us strive to find but never do. They found a home and a family. And that — is always — worth fighting for."
"Well, when you put it that way, I can see why those three are at the top of your list," I say, my tone light and professional. "But what about Ashton?
"I don't recall his interview being anywhere near as moving and emotional as the others you mentioned."
"That's because it wasn't," he admits, his tone flat and matter of fact. "Ashton's interview isn't memorable because it was emotional or moving. But because he took an absolutely massive risk, and it paid off for him in spades.
"He walked into his interview as an allyless social outcast with nothing to lose, and he walked out of it as a member of an alliance. The fact that said alliance is made up of him, Cassis, Maira, and Ashlynn is irrelevant.
"He took his shot, and he nailed it. No one can take that away from him. Regardless of what happens next."
"That's an ... interesting way of looking at it, I suppose," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I throw any semblance of professionalism and impartiality straight out the window. I mean, if he's not going to take this seriously, why should I?
"I'm not sure that I see it that way, but you're the expert. You've been doing this kind of stuff for more than twice as long as I've been alive."
"I'm pretty sure there's a backhanded compliment somewhere in there," he laughs, a pleasant, playful little smile on his face as he leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head. "And I'm choosing to focus on that instead of the fact that you called me old."
"Thank you for that," I say, a clearly fake but still pleasing little smile of my own etched on my face as I take a couple of seconds to collect myself before pushing ahead with my questions.
"So, we've covered the good, and that means it's time for the bad. Were there any interviews from tonight that you thought were truly awful?"
"There were not."
"Really? I ask, a look of genuine shock washing over my face. "Not even Shirley or Bellatrix?"
"No.
"I mean, I know the two of them are popular targets for the terrible label, but I genuinely don't think their interviews were as bad as they've been made out to be.
"That doesn't mean they were good; because they absolutely weren't. And neither of them did themselves any favors tonight. But I don't think that they irreparably harmed their chances of winning either."
"Alright then," I mumble, my disappointment at his less than engaging answer bleeding into my every word. "Again, I'm not sure I agree with you, but I'll go ahead and defer to your expertise.
"Now, I know you're not much of a gambler," I say, transitioning flawlessly into my last question just as the ten-minute warning light starts to flash on top of the camera. "Especially since it's illegal for gamemakers to bet on the Games.
"But you're not a gamemaker anymore; you're a private citizen. And that means it's ok for me to ask you this.
"If you were a betting man, who would you be putting your money on this year?"
"To be honest, I really don't know. I mean, I've never had the opportunity to bet on the Games before. So, I never really had to develop a feel for it."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Are you sure I can't convince you to take a stab at it anyway? You know, give us your gut feeling?"
"Afraid not. I didn't make it this far in my life by trusting my gut, and I'm not about to start now."
"Fair enough.
"Well, that's all I have. I want to thank you again for joining us tonight. It was a real treat to talk to a Hunger Games legend."
"The pleasure was all mine, Andromeda."
And ... we're clear!
"So, you headed over to the party now? Or, do you have to go home and pick up the wife first?" I ask, my tone noticeably more light and flirty as I slip my microphone off my shirt and toss it over to my producer.
"I've got to go pick up Ishara," he says. "She's got it in her head that tonight is the last time we're ever going to have fun now that I've retired, so she's insisting that we do it right."
"Lucky you," I laugh, a mischievous little smile on my face as I glide down off the stage and head towards my dressing room in the back. "I guess I'll see you guys at the party then."
"We wouldn't miss it."
Angus Tanner (Victor of the 43rd Hunger Games)
I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I'm actually having a lot of fun right now. I came into tonight expecting this to be just another Capitol party, complete with overzealous fans, a limitless supply of booze, and food no one in their right mind would eat. But so far, it's actually been quite pleasant.
Don't get me wrong, I would still rather be just about anywhere in the world than where I am right now. But it's not nearly as soul-crushingly unpleasant as I feared.
Now, if I could just find the waiter with those little crab puffs, I'd be in business.
"You look like you're having a good night, Angus," coos Fern, my friend, and former colleague; a shy smile on her face as she pops one of those delicious little crab puffs into her mouth before handing her now empty plate to the nearest avox and taking a small sip of her wine.
"I mean, if I didn't know you better, I might think you were actually having fun."
"Not as much as I will be once I get my hands on some more of those crab puffs," I joke, a playful smile on my lips as I take one last quick look around the room for the waiter with the heavenly puffs before reluctantly heading back to the District Ten table with Fern on my arm.
"But you're right. I am having a pretty good time," I admit, my face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning when I get back to the table and see the small plate of puffs waiting for me. "And now the night is perfect."
"That's what we thought you'd say," she says, her soft brown eyes lighting up in a way that I haven't seen in ages as she slides into the chair next to Dusk before sliding the plate over to me with a playful wink. "Enjoy."
"Oh, I intend to," I say, a playful smile etched on my tired face as I slip back into my chair and quickly pop one of the delectable little morsels into my mouth. A visible wave of pleasure washing over me as I sit there and savor every heavenly bite
"Thank you. All of you."
"I wish we could all take credit, but Hunter and I really didn't do anything. Dusk is the one who went and tracked them down for you."
"Thank you, Dusk," I say, my eyes lingering for a few seconds on the chemical burns covering the left side of his face as I pop another puff into my mouth before continuing. "This was very thoughtful."
"Don't mention it, Angus. It was the least I could do for the man that's spent the last twenty years helping me put my life back together."
"It was the least any of us could do," croaks Hunter, his voice soft and gravelly, "for the man who's given us so much.
"That being said, we hope you'll like this too," he says, a weak little smile on his lips as he pulls a beautifully wrapped little box with a bow on it out of his jacket and slides it across the table to me. "Enjoy your retirement, old man."
"You guys shouldn't have," I laugh, a happy smile on my face as I carefully remove the bow before ripping the paper to shreds, revealing an elegant little mahogany box with the symbol of District Ten emblazoned on the top in gold. "Oh, guys, you really shouldn't have."
"That's not even the best part," says Dusk, an honest to god smile on his heavily scarred face. "Open it."
And I do, and what I see inside takes my breath away. It's a beautiful little gold pocket watch, just like the one my dad gave me when I was reaped for my games all those years ago.
"You guys, I can't accept this. It must have cost you a fortune."
"Oh, it did," laughs Fern, her eyes sparkling with tears as she reaches across the table and gently closes my hand around the watch. "But it's nothing compared to the price you paid over the last fifty-six years.
"So please, keep the watch. We want you to keep it."
"I don't ... I don't know what to say."
"Then don't say anything," whispers Hunter. "Just promise to have us all over at least once a week for dinner once we get home, and we'll call it square."
"Deal," I say, my eyes red and puffy as I carefully attach the watch to its chain before slipping it into my pocket.
"Now, enough of that. This is supposed to be a party. And what's a party without a little bit of dancing?"
"A good party," they say in unison, each of them looking at me like I've just magically sprouted horns and chicken feathers.
"Angus, you know you can't dance," laughs Fern. "The last time you tried, you dislocated your knee and nearly broke my foot."
"That's because the music was wrong for the steps I was doing.
"But that doesn't matter. This is a party, and I want to dance," I say, my voice light and playful as I feel the softest of taps on my shoulder and a low, smoky voice whispering in my ear.
"Then you're in luck. Because I find myself in need of a partner," whispers Amethyst, the goddess victor of District Two and mother of this year's most polarizing tribute, Bellatrix.
"Lucky me," I say, a massive, shit-eating grin plastered on my face as I slip out of my chair and take her by the hand, much to the amusement of my fellow victors.
"Be careful with him out there, Amethyst. I wasn't kidding when I said he nearly broke my foot last time he tried this," laughs Fern, her words falling on deaf ears as Amethyst and I stroll out onto the dance floor just in time for the waltz.
This has been one of the best nights of my life, and I can't wait to get home to tell my wife all about it. ...
~BOOM~
Bellatrix Harvey-18 (District 2 Female)
"What the hell just happened?" I ask, my eyes darting frantically between the tv and a visibly shocked and terrified-looking Alexander. "Alexander?"
"I'm not sure," he says, his voice low and shaky, his eyes bleeding fear and uncertainty. "But you girls need to go to your rooms."
"I'm not going anywhere until I know what happened," I say. My voice low and angry, my eyes wet with tears.
"Damnit, Bellatrix. This isn't the time for you shit," he growls, his composure shattering as the tv switches over to the emergency broadcast station, and the first notes of the emergency alert sirens start to ring out from every corner of the city.
"Attention, Capitol citizens, this is an emergency alert.
"A level one curfew is now in effect. All citizens are ordered to return to their homes immediately and stay there until further notice. All curfew violators will be detained by Capitol Security for further questioning.
"This message repeats. ..."
"What the hell does that mean, Alexander?!" I ask, my voice trembling with every word as I stand there and stare up at him with tears streaming down my face. "Is my mom ok?!"
"I don't know, Bellatrix. But you and Helena need to go to your rooms and stay there until Adrianna or I tell you it's ok to come back out."
"I'm not going anywhere until I know what happened to my mom!" I scream, my voice cracking as the last vestiges of my already shaky composure shatter into a trillion little pieces right there in the middle of the room.
"As soon as we hear something, we'll tell you, Bellatrix," coos Adrianna, her voice soft and reassuring despite the chaos enveloping the room. "Helena, take her back to her room and then lock yourself in yours. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am," she whispers, her voice just as low and fear-filled as mine, as she grabs me by the hand and drags me down the hall towards our rooms.
And that's the last thing I remember before I blackout.