With thanks to Katrace and AbbyCoraby123 for your reviews of the last chapter.

Y 184-09-01 T 21:10:05

Day 2

After hours of working without a break, stalking the camera feeds, working too close to the bitter edge of a live feed, Seneca was exhausted. His eyes burned with fatigue, and all he wanted to do was make his way back through the labryinthine corridors to his quarters. He watched as the night fell and the faces of the dead were displayed- with a quick gesture from the Chief Cinematographer, the feed of the projected faces in the sky switched to a pre-prepared feed for the television screens. Seneca held up his hand for silence, then gestured to the phone on the top and side of the Gamemaker's Pit.

"Call through to the recording booth- tell them to switch to the recaps and let Dalton at the feeds when he's ready. I don't think there's any urgency to record for the next half an hour, so don't panic them."

The call was made. Slowly, one by one, cameras around them went dark. The Chief Gamemakers began standing, stretching; the shift change had begun, and after a twelve-hour shift for the second day, everyone was exhausted and hungry and desperate to leave. Seneca realised a little later than he should have that everyone was waiting for his word. He waved a hand vaguely, and the group dispersed, replaced by their nighttime replacements. The Deputy Head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee, nodded vaguely at Seneca as he took the centre of the pit- Seneca nodded back, not really capable of much more. He stood from his stool in the pit, and stretched, feeling his back click. He regarded the holographic arena that projected in the centre of the pit around him- three ascending roundels of desks and control panels surrounded him as he stood with his waist in a puddle of holographic light. Tiny dots of light moved around him, tiny tributes in a huge arena, marked with their numbers. He pulled his fingers to ripple them through the holograph; dots distorted and flickered under his touch.

"Seneca."

He looked up. He had become so invested in what he was watching, he had forgotten where he was. The room was mostly emptied of Seneca's day team, but Lexus Valerian, Head of Technology, remained. He jerked his head towards the door.

"You coming?"

"Uh. Yes, yes, I'm-" he made his way to the door, but turned halfway to address his replacement.

"Plutarch. Keep an eye on Elizabeth and Theon, we don't know where they're going- Glace is in the Presidential Mansion, someone will give you a debrief on her later- Emma's split from Ronan, and-"

"See ya, Plutarch," Lexus said with a purposefully bright tone. He half-dragged Seneca to the door.

"Learn when the shift's over, my friend," Lexus said with a roll of his eyes. "I thought being promoted would have made you stop doing the workaholic routine."

"Sorry to disappoint," Seneca muttered sarcastically, brushing Lexus' hand from his shoulder. "But no. I was a workaholic when I was doing your job, and I'm a workaholic now."

Lexus sighed. "I should of taken the job earlier, if only to keep you from driving yourself insane. How often did you eat last year?"

Seneca huffed a laugh. "Last year? Last year was the Quell, Lex. I don't even think I slept until it was over."

"Well, it's not the Quell, and I'm your tech guy now, and I'm making sure you eat once in a while. You're coming with me to the cafeteria." Lexus half-pulled Seneca through the computer banks and attendants into the gently sloping concrete corridors, then paused.

"Which way to the cafeteria?" He asked.

Seneca frowned.

"-Uh-"

The two of them, after an embarassing search that had involved finally asking a Peacekeeper the way (who had laughed his head off at having to show the Head Gamemaker the way through his own arena), had finally found themselves on a simple bench, the catering team preparing them something simple and substantial. Seneca had insisted his lack of appetite the whole way, but now the plate was in front of him his hunger suddenly returned with a force, and he dug into the rice with enthusiasm. Lexus snorted with mirth and twirled his fork around his pasta, and it occurred to Seneca just how reminiscent of their old jobs this felt. Back when he had been the Chief of Technological Advancement for Panem, and Lexus had been his Undersecretary- neither of them had been cut out for leadership, even then. Seneca had always been, first and foremost, a problem solver. He worked for the answer to a solution, not for gain or profit (although he hardly argued at the profit, really). Politics had never been his strong suit, and the Head of Hunger Games Technology had felt almost like a snub, not an advancement- as if Snow had not trusted him. Lexus, his Undersecretary, became the Chief of Technological Advancement- and so the wheel turned, on and on, never stopping, never changing its course. Now here they sat- Seneca as the Head Gamemaker, Lexus his tech guy. They were arguably some of the most powerful people in Panem.

And here they sat, the same as they had back in the labs, with Lexus getting him to stop working and eat for once. But so much had changed. The labs were gone, replaced by a concrete labryinth underneath a fake Capitol, engineered as a blood feud for the enjoyment of the masses. Their jobs were gone, their roles as the creator of a new future for Panem, chrome and glass, the Outer City skyscrapers that Lexus and he had pioneered in their earliest days. Now, they helped preserve the old traditions of blood and steel, the marble of the Inner City, the ever-more watchful eye of President Snow. Seneca could feel Snow even now, in the cameras around him, watching, watching for a slip up.

He stabbed his fork into his rice with a little more force.

Frankly, Seneca would relinquish it all, clearance and title and job, just to go back to where they had been, unstressed, the blood of the former holders of his title not weighing his shoulders down.

Behind him, with a clatter of plates, their Communications Head Josiah Lyman appeared, setting down a large bowl of something meaty that smelt of redolent wines.

"Mind if I chat to you guys a sec?" Josiah said, his voice still businesslike. Lexus glared at him with fond dislike. Seneca shrugged; his mouth full, he waved his fork in an open manner. Josiah sat down on the bench next to them both.

"I don't want to dick about here, this isn't office hours," he said in low, sharp tones, cutting straight to the heart of his clearly long-thought-out argument. "For whatever reason, the after-Quell arena's been putting people on edge. You know it, everyone else knows it. Snow's upped security, security's upped security, the poll we put out for the arena was mixed at best. And the Careers are gone, and everyone's on edge in the arena as well."

Seneca's fork hovered in the air. Just once, he wished to have a meal that wasn't for business purposes.

"And?" He said, copying the low tones Josiah had adopted. The three of them had leant into one another now in their desperation to keep quiet for the cameras surrounding them.

"And we need to fix that. Now. We need to stop dragging our heels and fix shit. The bribery thing with Quint's a problem, don't think it isn't, Crane. Anyone allying with Elizabeth, and Elizabeth herself, is dangerous. Not to mention Glace finding the hatch to the arena."

"Keep your damn voice down, Josiah," Lexus hissed as Josiah began to get more animated as the argument went on. Josiah tapped his spoon thoughtfully against his plate before continuing, quietly this time.

"If we don't pick up our game, Snow's going to think the Quell, and the staff overhaul that brought Lexus and I in, were a bad idea. If we don't do something about the knowledge we have now, we're going to he faced with something bigger than we can possibly deal with. We need to act, and if we want to make it to Games seventy-seven we need to act now."

Lexus snorted. "Okay, I've heard a lot of tin foil hat ideas in my time, but- Seneca?"

Seneca had put down his fork with a sharp 'clack' and begun rubbing his eyes pensively. He did not respond.

Lexus hesitated on the next word. "-Sir?"

Seneca looked up. His voice was loud and carried clearly through the room, a voice built for radio, for talking.

"Put out an arrest warrant for Alec Taupe and anyone assisting in illicit Capitol-District smuggling rings. If Quint comes near to someone, eliminate him. Eliminate Elizabeth as soon as possible. End the Games when you can. Am I making myself clear?"

Horrified, awed silence passed. Seneca looked up at his consultants, to the cafeteria at large.

"Am I?"

His tone brooked no argument. The cafeteria buzzed to life.

Seneca almost felt as if he was fighting the tide, hitting the waves as it enexorably came back in.