-Diesel Bundren, co-Head Gamemaker: Pre-reapings-

I walk to the board room for the scheduled meeting, holding my clipboard close to my chest and twisting my engagement ring around my finger.

As co-Head Gamemakers, Santana and I got to plug people into whatever positions we wanted. So, naturally, I hooked up my girls. Why wouldn't I? My sister's always dreamt of meeting the tributes up close, and of course I had to put her into her favorite District. Vienna, of course, I love but not as much as my sister (although she doesn't have a bad rack, I must say), so I put her into District 2. I got bitched at by the older escorts who were bumped down and around about how unfair it is, how they've been serving so long they deserve it. Blah, blah, blah, if they wanted to be moved up, they should've had a loved one be a Head Gamemaker.

I offered to plug Viridian into Four, or Three, but he declined, saying that he doesn't want to be employed in the Games. I understand. Ha, before Sharon forced me into school when I came home, I didn't want to be employed in the Games.

Santana plugged Ross in as a Games Theorist. Basically, he knows everything there is to know about the Games, so every time I get a new, brilliant idea (or Santana gets a less brilliant idea), Ross tells us if it's been done before, and if so, what the result was. He'll also be able to tell us what to do if a tribute is acting a certain way. Or, at least, what not to do.

She also plugged in a new announcer, Saxon Hastings. A pretty little bell, that prefers to dress in gold. She was friends with Santana's little brother Ike before he died. She's not nearly as theatrical in real life as she is on the screen, but on the TV she's very well-liked.

I collect my files and papers and catch up with Saxon where she was walking with the Games interviewer, Blaine Buchanan. "Blaine!"

He looks up, adjusting his bright pink hair and smiling at me with magenta eyes. "Good afternoon, Mr. Bundren."

"Call me Diesel!" I tell him, patting him on the back. He's such a nice kid.

"If you insist."

"How've things been going?"

"I'm always nervous for the reapings," he confesses. "It's the first impression of the tributes, and I'm afraid I'm not going to write good enough questions. Hopefully they're not boring or square."

"Don't worry. We're having a meeting right now to discuss the parameters for the tributes. I'll make sure you get some colorful characters."

"Thanks," he says, still sounding slightly nervous.

"Sure thing!" I give him a slap on the back. "I'll talk to you later!" I enter the board room.

There's a table with seats all around it, all of which are filled by important-looking people. I sit down next to the prude, who twirls the ring around her finger. Ross sits on her other side, watching but not saying a word.

"Hey Prude!" I say cheerfully. The bitch looks up, her dark eyes glaring at me. She wears so much make-up all the damn time, and it's not even the tasteful kind. Ugh. I can't believe I'm going to have to marry her, she's disgusting.

"Hi asshole," she fires back, causing me to roll my eyes.

I'm going to blow her out of the water anyways, and be the best Head Gamemaker Panem's ever seen.

To do that, though, you have to be unconventional. Most all of Panem's best have been unconventional, but they also experience the most sever descents. Take Edward O'Callaghan for example, he was so well-loved and then he got busted for involvement with rebels. Or Solitaire Chiarella, who was wildly successful and died so suddenly with the change of the Presidents… Snow can't stand unconventional, but I'm going to be unconventional in the best ways.

Some of the most successful Head Gamemakers get to know their tributes as people, which may make feelings of sympathy. Me, though, I'm going to be different. I'm going to get to know the tributes well, of course, talk to them, learn who they are… Learn the weaknesses, strength, everything that makes them tick… And use it all against them.

You have the pawns at your fingers, but so many Head Gamemakers haven't used them all to their greatest potential. I'm going to. And nobody's ever going to forget it.

I shuffle through my papers idly. Old Snow isn't going to be at the meeting today. He's suddenly fallen unwell, and though they're telling the Capitolites he'll be back soon, we elites know that he's not got much time left. Pretty soon, the old geezer is going to need a replacement.

Snow hasn't been around here at all, but everything I do has been surveyed with a close eye anyways by the sap that's been picked to take his place. Only the best of his cronies could take the position. Someone that will reenergize the Capitol with a lot of personality and charisma, but also believes in all Snow's philosophies.

And he's the literal worst in the world.

The President's chair at the head of the table remains empty and hushed conversations fill the room. Suddenly, the door opens, and the President's soon-to-be replacement appears in the doorway.

He's certainly qualified for the job. Not only did he serve as a Peacekeeper for year, he also served as an escort, and as a Gamemaker. Never the Head, but a Gamemaker. He's also frequented talk-shows and television, and has a stage presence unlike any other. He's also Snow's biggest lapdog. He changed his name when he started escorting for District 5 to fit in, and since hasn't changed it back. Joltee Rutilus.

As if he were already the true President, everyone stands as he enters the room, and sits when he sits.

"Welcome, all of you, to the reaping conference for the 84th annual Hunger Games!" The prude stares at her papers on the table. "It's sure a shame that President Snow wasn't able to join us today. But do know that he gave me all the information I needed about the pending reapings."

I was offered to be the frontrunner in the election that he would ultimately be rigged to win, but I turned down the offer. I'd rather die than go through that.

"So, we will start today's proceedings with District 2." He pulls up some pictures and puts them on the screen. "First, the boy. Vidarr Yggdraval." His picture appears on the screen. "It's become my responsibility to ensure he ends up in the Arena after he disgraced the Capitol by dropping out of the Secret Service."

"Shouldn't he have been taken care of a long time ago?" I interject. Joltee looks over at me, giving me an ice-cold smile.

"Yes. He should have. Unfortunately, this fiasco occurred right around the time that the President had just fallen sick. In the panic and chaos of riots and the threat of instability, the issue was never resolved. Now we are going to resolve it. Please, don't doubt those in charge, Mr. Bundren. I assure you we have our reasons."

An important-looking woman speaks up. "Sir, how are we going to do this? If he's reaped-"

"Justus Fiore." The dark-eyed, blond-haired boy disappears from the screen and a different boy appears, looking much more vicious. "Is the boy that has been selected to volunteer from District 2. We can prevent him from volunteering."

Ross speaks next. "Mr. Rutilus, Sir. Won't people think it's… Odd? That a boy from 2 is reaped? Won't they know something is not right?"

"Mr. McCafferty, we have also considered that. Which takes us to District 1." He flicks his finger and the images on the screen change. "The selected volunteer from District 1," he says, pulling up a profile of a boy with curly brown hair and green eyes, "Is named Gravity Stowers. He looks to be the kind that nobody would volunteer for. District 1 is quite serious about it, and he would keep others from volunteering. If we reap him, it won't seem unnatural that the 2 boy is reaped as well."

Ross nods. I certainly wouldn't cross that 1 boy.

"As for the girls, we've been assured that Districts 1 and 2 have it all under control. I trust them. As for District 4, it appears they will also be Careers this year. The selected volunteers will go in as natural and try to get to know the Careers." We all nod.

"Districts 3 and 5 through 12 will all be selected randomly, as is usual. And now we consult our co-Head Gamemakers." He turns to us and raises an eyebrow. "Do you have any special requests for the reaping bowl this year?"

I consider for a second, but suddenly Santana bursts out, "Nobody under 15!" Eveyone looks around, with surprised murmurs. She sounds so desperate. This is all because her damn brother was 14 when he bit the dust. And now I have to save her ass, again!

"She means that because the tributes under 14 are so damn boring and sweet. They're nice to have every once in a while, but the Games we've created aren't going to be any bit entertaining if we have a bunch of youngins that get traumatized the first day."

She glances at me, her eyes slightly teary but surprised. I bet the prude thought I was going to throw her under the bus. She's lucky I had a good relationship with her brother or else I would've let her try to dig herself out of that trench.

Joltee looks like he half believes it. "Very well," he says. "For this year, and this year only, we will only reap tributes fifteen and above. Please, pass the word onto the associates so they can accommodate this request.

"Something else," I say, adding on a slightly bitter "Sir," with it. The others look at me, looking at me like I'm going to get myself killed. "I want to be down there. With the tributes. I want to be down with them after the chariot rides and during training. And I want to talk to them after their interviews."

Santana gives me a look like I'm crazy. Old Joltee tenses even more, giving me a look like he thinks I'm joking. I'm not.

"That's certainly… Unconventional."

"I want to get to know their every strength, weakness and tick. I want to know the dynamic between them. I want to pick only the most suitable and worthy Victor after getting to know them intimately. Too many times we've had Victors that showed potential in their Games, only to be rebellious, dangerous, or just plain unpleasant Victors. I want to know that the Victor of my Games can handle the life and is willing to serve our wishes."

He thinks I'll back down with the threat of death, but right now for me it's all or nothing. Of course I'll be smart when it gets down to it. After all, I'm still a servant to my sister and niece. They need me to stick around. But I'm not one to stop at just good enough.

Santana nods, getting control. "Yes. By knowing the tributes, we'll know how to play them off of each other."

Joltee purses his lips. "President Snow will want you dead if he hears of this." Translation: You're pushing your sphere of influence too much.

"By the end of the Games, President Snow will either be impressed by the results, or he'll be dead." Translation: I'm not budging, rat.

"Very well," Joltee says. "Diesel Bundren and Santana Villanueva have permission to visit with the tributes after the chariot rides, during training, and after the conclusion of interviews."

I smile at my Victory. It's too late in the game to replace me now, anyways.

"Are there any other comments or requests?" Nobody else speaks up. Joltee nods and stands up. "Very well. The reapings begin tomorrow at eight o'clock sharp. You are all dismissed. People pack up and start to leave. "Except for you, Mr. Bundren."

Santana gives me a glance, worry in her eyes, but soon she's swatted out with the others.

"Diesel, old pal. It's nice to see you again." He flashes me a devious smile and I sit down.

"You've come far since University."

"You could say. The second that Snow's funeral is over, election season begins. I'll be taking control before anyone knows what's happening. I'm going to zap the nation back into action."

"Fine. I don't want to run the nation, if you're just here to gloat. I barely wanted to be a Head Gamemaker."

"Since I'm in charge, you answer to me now. But I mostly wanted to catch up with an old friend. I thought you might like to know about my most recent fling. I found a really cute pianist named Viridian that seemed to know who you were."

Something about it sets me off. "Viridian is way too good to have slept with you!"

"Sorry bud. I mean, I may not have played fair, but you're not new to that, now are you?" The way he smiles at me… He knows how much this is pissing me off.

"I thought you had a boyfriend."

"Who, Phoebus? He stopped talking to me. He's going to regret that when I'm calling the shots, that's for sure."

"Stay away from Viridian," I warn him, lowering my voice so he can feel how much I mean it. The bastard starts laughing.

"Oh, Diesel. Still haven't changed, have you? Once delusional old Snow collapses, I call all the shots. Which means that I also get everything I want." With that, he stands up. "You're dismissed now." On the way out, he pushes me against the wall with a smile, whispering close to my ear. "When I'm in the Mansion, you're either going to enjoy being my little whore, or you'll be dead."

~.~.

After that fiasco, I go straight to my pride and joy: the Arena we've spent so much time creating. It's only late morning in the real world, but here it's nighttime. It's dark, the stars are covered by clouds but the moon shines through them. Each time I take a step I hear the shuffle of gravel. I find Santana in her favorite place, sitting on top of the biggest hill of the old roller coaster. Of course none of it works anymore, it's been made to seem like it's been abandoned for years and years. It takes some effort, but I use the adrenaline of nerves and rage to make it up, and sit next to her. She looks up in surprise.

"Diesel!" There's a slight pause. "A-Are you alright? You look awful."

"Shut up, Prude. I'm not in the mood." I'm so livid right now. I stare out across the darkness, trying to let it calm me.

"What did he say to you? After the meeting?"

"I told you shut up!"

She stays quiet, watching me as I twist the stupid engagement ring around my finger. We sit in silence.

"Thanks…" she says quietly. I look up.

"What?"

"Thanks for covering my ass back there. I… I had a little… Meltdown there."

"Oh. That. It's fine. Just don't do it again."

She nods. "I think about Ike all the time. Even though it's been years and years and years."

"I think about him sometimes too."

"Y…You do?"

"I still have his last letters to me. Sometimes I read them over."

"Oh. Yeah."

We sit in silence for a while. I usually don't like silence, but right now I need it. Putting on an arrogant, confident, always smiling façade is exhausting sometimes.

"Do you ever think about the future?" she asks me.

My stomach flips. "Yeah. Duh. I'll be married to you and we'll both be miserable."

"More than that, though. What if this Games implodes on us?"

"It won't. After all, I made it."

She rolls her eyes. "What if?"

"Then we'd die together." I manage a laugh, but the smile quickly fades away. "Sharon… Sharon wouldn't miss me much though." I try to laugh again, but it doesn't work out very well.

"My parents wouldn't care either. They'd probably say I deserved it if the Arena was bad."

"It's not though. It's pretty from here. And once we add in the…" I actually do laugh a little bit thinking about it, "The twist… Then it'll be the best Games of all time."

"Yeah…" She doesn't seem nearly excited as I feel for it.

"Well, it was fine talking to you. But I have to go." I crawl back down. "Padme should be getting out of school soon."

"Oh. Alright. See you later then."

"Bye Prude!" I put on a smile and wave.

"Bye Asshole." She sounds half-hearted.

I needed to let off that steam before going to pick up my niece from school. I don't want her to see me upset.

I leave work and go to the schoolhouse, where a lot of the young ones are just leaving. They find their parents and friends, and a lot of them point me out.

Suddenly, I see a little pink blur running straight at me and hugging my legs. "Uncle Diesel!"

"Hey Princess!" I give my niece a pat on the head.

"Hi Uncle Diesel!" she readjusts her white and red ball cap, pulling her pink ponytail tighter and smiling up at me. Her eyes are naturally blue like her mother's, which always made me tick.

"Ready to go!"

"Actually, I was wondering… Can I have Marley over to sleep over tonight for the reapings tomorrow?! Please Uncle Diesel! Please!"

"What did your mother say?"

"She said if it was okay with you it was okay with her!"

"And her mother?"

"Er, she's an orphan, actually. But she already asked her orphanage mother and she said yes. Please Uncle Diesel! You're the best Uncle ever! Please please please please pleeeeasseee!"

"Oh, alright. How can I say no to my Padme?"

"Yay! Thank you Uncle Diesel!" She scurries off and comes back with a girl her age, who wears a fuzzy hat with little cat ears on it, a T-shirt, and ripped jean shorts. She has wavy, dark hair, and bright gray eyes with slight freckles. A streak of her long hair is dyed bright green.

"Can we stop for food on the way?!" Padme asks, her eyes sparkling. "Please Uncle Diesel!"

"Please!" chimes in Marley.

"Oh, alright." I take Padme's hand and she takes Marley's. "Are you ready to see your mother on the big screen tomorrow?" I ask my niece.

"I can't wait!" Padme says.

"Me neither!" Marley says, smiling.

I hold the doors of Padme's favorite café (also her uncle's favorite, kid has good taste) open to them, and she and Marley go in, giggling and sitting in a booth. I sit with them. I just have to stop thinking about Viridian and fucking Joltee for a while. And what better way to do that than spend some time with my target audience?

"Uncle Diesel, will you give us a hint to the Arena!? Pleeeease!?"

"Sorry, my lips are sealed."

"Please!" Padme says, and she nudges Marley, who adds another, "Please!"

I laugh. "Sorry girls."

The puppy eyes come out just as a server gives us all drinks. I just ignore them, though. I'm sworn to secrecy, and those in charge are already frustrated at me. I don't need to give them any reason to hate me more.

"You'll just have to wait and see."

"Awww!" they both whine, but they giggle madly.

"Don't worry, though. You won't be disappointed."

"We believe in you, Uncle Diesel!"

"Yeah!"

"Thanks," I smile. "So, how were your days?"

I'm able to edge out the thoughts of Viridian and the events of the day listening to Padme and Marley describe their days in detail to me. And, of course, I get in on all the gossip of who dyed their hair what color, and what couples broke up, and discussions about cute boys and girls alike in their grade, and I'm glad that my Padme has such a good mother that isn't a homophobic shit like Sharon.

Yes, I'm going to make this Games great.

At this point, I don't really have another choice.

A/N: I hope you liked this glance at another side of Diesel! I just kind of started writing and ran away with it. Oh, and I hope you liked the brief glance at the Arena! There's much more in store than just that, but there's your preview! From here, each tribute will get one more POV for sure before the Arena.

In other news, I started my partial SYOT for the 42nd Games! If you submit you can get points that you use in this story, because even though a lot of you have a lot of points, inflation is a thing that happens XD Because SOME people have over 400 points! But please, I'd highly appreciate some readers and tributes for that one!

Also, another SYOT that needs tributes is Capitolised Brutality by Alien and Wolfie! So send some tributes their way, it's a story with a lot of good potential!

Another thing: I've decided to stop putting scores on the chapters. I'm still keeping track of them, though, but I won't put them on the chapters until the Games begin.

Chapter Question: How'd you enjoy the refresher to the Capitolites? Which of them would you like to see more of?

Please, if you haven't already, tell me how I'm doing through reviews and check out the poll on my profile! I've barely had time to do anything lately but eventually I'll update the blog again with some info on the tributes!

Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy the buildup to the Games!