Chapter 14: Mags

As the oldest Victor to enter the Third Quarter Quell, Mags had witnessed many Games. From the gruesome to the incredible, memories of each stayed sharp in her mind.

Same for her Tributes.

Mags measured her worth by their success. The others advised against it. "It's just business," Westley once told her. "Quit being womanly." Tributes were their children. How could he disagree?

The night before the Games, she would sit down with her Tribute and have The Last Talk. Chit-chat, last minute advice. Whatever they wanted. She never forgot any of those conversations, but a few stuck out from the rest.


From the many pep talks she gave herself, Magenta Pirata was her own first Tribute.

Mags was nervous. The country was still reeling over Gunner's death. Mar had more sponsors. The others liked him. There was only one female Victor. What made her think she could be next?

She felt a sense of pride and shame killing her district partner once the alliance broke. A restraining order was issued to Mar's family the moment Mags won.


Pearl was awesome.

Mags was fresh out the arena. Didn't know any better. She giggled with the girl over cookies and milk as she befriended her very first Tribute. The Two boy was cute but so boring. Her stylist practically hates her. Capitol fashion would never be in her closet. She could make a killer clam pasta Maggie just had to try once they got home.

Nail polish adorned their nails a matching blue. 'To know we're one in the same.' They were only a year apart. Had trained together back at the Center. No way was she gonna lose to some princess named Essence.

Mags landed in the hospital the night of her death. Alcohol poisoning. She had to be restrained once she awoke.


Shore was unimpressive.

It sobered her up from last year.


Lourdes was a goner.

The girl broke down in Mags' lap. Confessed she didn't want to kill anyone. She gave the waterworks one good slap across the cheek. Mags was too focused on the chaos around her to care. And it was a whole ten years since her victory. She was tired of mentoring. 'You committed to this, now accept it.'

Mags would wonder if kinder words would have gotten her out of the arena.


Sirena was insane.

Tributes like her came around every now and then. Those in it for the thrill of it. But Sirena was different.

Mags remembered her incidents at the Center. Torture was her forte. Spent the entire talk detailing her plan to murder each of her allies, including Noe. Especially Noe.

It was one thing to kill. Mags would know. It was another to enjoy it.

'That's not the District Four way Sirena.'

''Bullshit. You killed your district partner. Let me kill mine.'

It was the only time Mags would ever be thankful seeing her Tribute die. No wonder she was voted into the Quarter Quell.


Azure was boastful.

Mags halfway listened to the girl's bets, playing along to shut her up. She didn't put much stock in the boyish teen. Androgyny was out of season.

'Bet I can score the One girl before I win.'

'I'm sure you can.'

Mags and Enrique sat dumbfounded as Azure fucked on national television, turning fifty shades of red as their Tribute moaned and groaned to her allies' cheers.

Two booths over, Crys laughed until she cried. 'That girl's a piece of work Mags!'

District Four wouldn't have that many sponsors again until the Sixty-Fifth Games.

'Told ya.' The first words Azure said to Mags when she woke up from recovery. Faint lipstick marks smiled back at the older Victor.


Maite was precious.

She didn't mean for it to happen. Had barely seen her around the Center. But the talk did it. Something in her smile, her laugh, her innocence made Mags see her in a different light. Maite was fighting to save her dying older sister. The sympathy card had her (and the audience) in tears.

It was Pearl all over again.

Mags slept with four sponsors to assure she was safe. And her girl made it far. Until the electric trap.

She hated Beetee for longer than she would ever admit. It took some knowing whispers and a plan of action to finally respect the bespectacled coward from Three.


Evangelina and Luz were stupid.

One wanted the money. The other wanted the glory. But why in Panem would you play for those in a Games with double the Tributes?

Mags asked them that during their group talk. Evangelina was offended. Luz was confused (the winnings were doubled for the Quell). Mags felt the same when them melting on-screen lost her sponsors and gave Panem a headache of a Victor.


Corona was arrogant.

She was the only Tribute to ever decline The Last Talk. Said she didn't need an "old bag" telling her what to do.

Her dismal performance was a staple in Mags' "Why You Should Really Listen To The Old Bag" presentation to the arena nominees. No one dared sided with the highest-scoring Tribute of that year who died in the bloodbath.


Mercedes was ignored.

Her talk was more formality than genuine interest. Jordano took over their station. Need to clear my head.' He didn't believe her. She didn't care. Mags had a rebellion to plan. One Tribute be damned in the face of hundreds.


Finnick was fucked. Figuratively, then literally.

Mayor Odair had royally pissed off some Capitolite and landed his son in the Games. Angel took the girl. Mags knew the Odairs personally. Finnick was trained. Finnick was handsome, gliding through puberty. But he was fourteen. Good looks could only get him so far. How wrong she wished she was.

She wanted him to die as the most expensive gift a Tribute has ever received landed in the bare-chested boy's hand. The hell did sponsors want with the boy giving him a trident? He thanked all of Panem while she screamed on the inside.

They could barely wait till he was legal.


Analisa was a plea bargain.

Snow caught wind of their plan. Told Mags he would save Ms. Cresta if she gave up three of their accomplices.

'A simple request, Victor Pirata.'

She peered at the mad girl swimming her way to nowhere on the hologram screen. She would serve no use to them. A liability if anything.

Then, she thought of Finnick. How he looked at her. How she made his hell worth living. Annie was his world, his tiny source of happiness. Killing her would kill him.

He could find another love. He was an attractive boy. Their plan was too...no. No, no, no.

Mags feigned shock as three low-level Capitol government workers were executed on live television. She was more afraid of why Snow kept her alive.


Mags was terrified.

After forcing Finnick to bed, she sobbed in her pillow. So what if she was an eighty-year-old stroke victim? She didn't want to die. There was so much that needed to be done. Plans solidified, weapons gathered. She would never see them come to life.

When she walked into the fog, she was still afraid. But it was either her or Finnick, and she was never that kind of Victor. Finnick was her son. He deserved to live in peace. She just hoped her death wasn't in vain.