This is purely Hunger Games, no crossover.
When that phone rang, he honestly thought about not answering if only for a few seconds. Not even a full two if he were to be honest with himself. That phone hadn't rang in three years and he hoped, naively of course, that he would no longer have to have to play President Snow's sick game, but apparently that was not to be. He picked up the phone and answered, "Tristan speaking?"
"Ah, Mr. Stone," The cultured voice of President Snow sounded over the phone, "I am in need of your skill set once again."
"I live to serve the Capitol sir," Tristan kept his voice level and leaned towards respectful although Snow knew that it was all just an act, but it was an act that needed to be played perfectly if Alan wanted to see past this year. "What is it that you need me for Mr. President?" It was too late for him to join the game makers and he knew exactly what Snow wanted from him, but it was all part of the game and Snow did so love his games.
"I feel that it is time for District Twelve to have another victor to celebrate. I will allow you to choose whichever one you want to mentor. I do hope they finally have a female victor though." Which meant that Tristan was going to pick whichever girl was reaped and there was nothing that he could do about it.
"I hope they at least are able to put up a fight," Tristan said in recognition of his orders. I hope that she isn't the usual half-starved child that comes out of the district so I don't have to pull of an absolute miracle. He knew that the day that one of his tributes died signaled the near end of his career if not the end. Unless Snow was merciful that day and allowed him to rejoin the game keepers.
"Oh, I'm sure that they will be able to handle your training," Snow says. You have another year at least as I'm not done with you, Tristan heard.
"Then I look forward to being in the Capitol once again."
"And we look forward to having you here again my boy." Snow cuts the connection and Tristan doesn't lose his composure or mask. He knows that the house is bugged, with plenty of cameras as well, but there is one place that he is safe in his house. One room that was devoid of anything that had been part of a deal that Tristan had struck with Snow once he figured out that the games never truly ended. It didn't matter that Snow knew what Alan did inside that room and just why he wanted it, because Alan never gave the president the satisfaction of breaking down.
Tristan had won the 44th Hunger Games at the age of fifteen from District Nine and he had done it brilliantly according to all viewers. He had manipulated each and every one of the other tributes without having to really do anything. The tributes never saw what was happening, but the audience did once Caesar went over the cause of deaths and noticed a similar pattern. Each and every death after the first two was because Tristan willed it so. He had a few deaths tied directly to his name, no one would ever get out of the games without blood on their hands, but he had never had to exert himself. But, perhaps he did too good of a job because President Snow approached him right before he went home. What was said, would haunt Tristan until he could finally lay down and die.
His safe room had been turned into an office devoid of a telephone or truly any electronics as Tristan trusted Snow about as far as he could lift a two ton concrete slab that was riveted to the ground. There was no symbol of Panem on the walls, but there were pictures of past tributes. The pictures of every tribute that was part of his games hung on the left wall of the office as you entered the office as well as the pictures of the tributes that died in the games he helped create. On the right wall was the pictures of the other tributes that he hadn't been allowed to really help when he was forced to help the other kid, while the wall right behind his desk was full of the pictures of those he had mentored. All had won of course, he was known as the Games Master for a reason.
There was silence in the room and Tristan was still for a moment, before his body shook with silent sobs and tears flowed down his face. Once again he was supposed to change a young teenager into what the Capitol wanted, a victor. He was just happy that those he mentored didn't end up like Finnick, selling their bodies to satisfy those desires by the Capitol. Johanna, Wiress, and Annie were three of his proudest works even though Annie had lost it. Those three had never been given thought about their bodies because they had something else to offer the Capitol and Snow, something that made them stand out. You wanted to stand out after the games, to do so meant you were valuable and you could protect those you cared about.
Wiping away his stray tears, he prepared himself and brought out a notepad. The reaping would be happening in two hours and although he would hate himself for it later, the Games Master was needed again. He was going to make the Seventy Fourth Hunger Games one to remember.
A/N: I lost my motive for this story, but I kind of like the idea. If someone were to take over with this story, I implore you to either stick with the first book or make Katniss the badass she was supposed to be in books 2 and 3.
