Author's Note: Ok, first of all, I am so very terribly sorry for taking so ridiculously long with this update. It's just that I have been playing the role of a Tribute in a real life version of the Hunger Games, also more commonly known as the Examinations and Final Essays Games, and that has taken up all my time for the last month or so. But now you finally have a new chapter to enjoy, and I hope it will be worth the wait. I haven't edited it that much yet, so I will go back and do that later - for now, I just wanted to post this chapter as quickly as possible :)

Chapter 2

Sure Fire Winners

Giving you something to shout about

"Finally!" Brett exclaimed cheerfully as he caught up with me on the way out of the Control Room four and a half hours later. "About time we moved on to the fun part of the day! Should be a good night, what with the cream of the Capitol and the former Victors getting down together. So bye bye, business – hello, pleasure."

"You just can't get enough, can you?" I put in. "Still recovering from one epic hangover whilst already preparing to work for the next one."

"Hey, I'm just making the most of the season and everything that comes with it, the very next thing in line being a large beer if I can help it. So what do you say, shall we put our feet up and get the good time started or what?"

I couldn't help but smile amusedly at Brett's immortal party spirit. He was right though, about the Games season spicing things up. I mean, yes, a party in the Capitol was always full of glitter and glamour, any time of year. But even so, the ones that took place during that one week starting from the Reaping Day and ending in the day the Tributes were placed in the arena, had a unique, star-struck feel about them, with all the Tributes and their mentors present, and with the knowledge of the entire Panem having turned their eyes towards the Capitol and the Games. And then of course the Crowning of the Victor after (in the best case scenario) a thrilling and well-executed Games, and the huge after-party would serve as the icing on the already incredibly delicious cake. It was one VIP event after another, each night more memorable than the next. So even off camera, it was a damn good show. And as a thoroughbred showman, there was nothing I liked better.

"I'm always up for some high quality entertainment", I replied. "But I'm going to have to let the entertainment wait just a couple more hours. The recap is airing as we speak, and as soon as it finishes, I'll be having a nice little chat with Ceasar Flickerman about it."

"Oh yeah, that's right! I keep forgetting you're a somebody these days, Crane. Which should basically be impossible, what with your face on every poster and ad there is."

"It's a good face", I grinned. "One that sells just about anything. Can't rob the advertisement world of that, can I?"

"It was a good face", insisted Brett, "until the man wearing it went from actually using a razor to just advertising them. Seriously, too much hair action and, hence, way too much daily trimming for my taste."

"It's called style", I replied, shooting him one last, quick smirk before we parted ways, him embarking on the mission to hunt down a drink and me continuing towards the City Circle where the interview would take place. "You should try it sometime."

"Yeah, yeah. Just go knock 'em dead, Mr. Big Shot", he waved my sarcastic comment off as he practically pranced away. "Give good old Caesar my best."

As I directed both my thoughts and my steps towards the City Circle, I pondered over Brett's friendly poking fun of my current popularity. True enough, the commercial side of the top job – the celebrity status and the countless PR gigs that came with the position, and consequently also the increased public interest in the more personal aspect of my character as opposed to only my work and achievements as a Gamemaker – had indeed advanced my rapid rise to the level of fame I was enjoying these days. But it was by no means unexpected, and by even lesser means was I bothered by or uncomfortable with it. On the contrary, I was more than content with the way the recent addition of the 'Head' to the already quite esteemed title of Gamemaker had made me a household name practically overnight. Some of the other Gamemakers frowned upon this, of course, mumbling the age old argument under their breath over and over again: that it was in their opinion ridiculously unfair that there were dozens of Gamemakers working their asses off all year round, trying to make each Games a great success and offer the best possible entertainment for the people of Panem to enjoy, and yet the only one who got to stand in the spotlight and take a bow was the one with the 'Head' in front of their title.

I couldn't have disagreed with them more. To me it didn't seem the slightest bit unfair that the person captaining the entire production, the main designer of the arena and the mastermind behind all the traps and twists inside it should get the attention and recognition they deserved. Unlike the certain jealous idiots I worked with, I knew for a fact and from personal experience that instead of lazy bastards who made their fortune taking credit for other people's input, those few who made it to Head Gamemaker were actually the ones who worked the hardest and had the most talent. Credit was to be given to whom credit was due, and since I felt that mine was long overdue anyway, what with all the years of tireless, hard and determined work in the sidelines and especially after the recent incident of Bendwaithe nearly stealing my thunder with this year's arena design, I didn't bother to even pretend I understood their discontent. The reason for their lack of screen time and recognition was not in the face they saw in all those posters and ads out there but in the ones looking back at them in the mirror. And it was their problem if in the midst of all the complaining they failed to find the time to actually look into one and realize that. I sure as hell wasn't going to pretend to be ashamed, overwhelmed or even humbled by all the fame and glory that was directed my way. No, I would walk onto that stage tonight, live on national television, proud as a peacock and enjoy to the fullest what was rightfully mine to enjoy. Those who disapproved could frown themselves to death for all I cared.

After being led to a private dressing room backstage for some last minute styling and make-up (ah, the miracles professional make-up artists could make to hide the signs of a hangover!), it was finally time for me to officially step in front of the entire nation for the first time as Head Gamemaker, and sit down for an interview with the legendary Caesar Flickerman. And even though I held firmly onto my proud peacock act, I couldn't entirely ignore what felt like a cloud of overexcited butterflies racing around in my stomach when my name was announced and the bright, hot glare of the spotlights found me as I walked onto the stage, welcomed by the roaring, deafening applause from the sea of people that had gathered in the City Circle to watch the recap of the reapings and the interview. The moment was simply surreal, even in my standards, and as I shook hands with Flickerman before we sat down, I had to allow myself just the most fleeting experience of being absolutely, one hundred per cent star-struck. Because the truth was it had always been much more to me than just a career goal to work towards, the title of Head Gamemaker and everything that came with it. It had also been a childhood dream, one that I had had pretty much as long as I could remember.

Ever since the first Games I had watched that I could remember anything of, at the age of six years, I had developed a never-ending fascination for the mechanics and the production of it, experienced an intense, inexplicable pull towards what went on behind the scenes and the cameras that caught the entire spectacle. While other kids of the same age had focused on picking a favourite Tribute, finding out everything about them and cheering them on in the fights and dangers they faced in the arena, I had found it ten times more interesting to learn about how those dangers had actually come about. My father had started teaching me the very basics of gamemaking a couple of years later, and before reaching the districts' minimum reaping age of twelve, I had made it my life's mission to become the best Gamemaker of all time. It hadn't mattered to me that I was different from most of the other kids out there who preferred setting their sights on the more common dream occupations, such as Stylist or Peacekeeper, that in their eyes were certainly much cooler and glamorous than gamemaking. They would see, I had kept thinking. Because I wasn't going to be just an ordinary, mediocre run-off-the-mill Gamemaker, standing in the sidelines for their entire career, constantly overshadowed by the more talented, ambitious and hard working individuals in the business. No, I would be Head Gamemaker, the most skilled, hard working and creative one Panem had ever seen. Every single Peacekeeper and Stylist in the Capitol would know my name, along with the rest of the country. Then we'd see who was cool and glamorous and who was not.

This was that moment for me: the one where everything I had ever wanted, everything I had ever worked for had finally paid off, and where the childhood fantasy of one day shaking the hand of Ceasar Flickerman and being interviewed by him as Head Gamemaker had at last turned into reality. It was like a drug, making me feel on top of the world, unstoppable, invincible. Indestructible.

"Mr. Crane", began Flickerman as the applause finally died down. "Welcome to the show, and thank you for making time for us in your what I assume is an incredibly busy schedule."

"The pleasure is all mine", I replied with the most charming smile in my repertoire. "And please, by all means, do call me Seneca."

"Very well, if you insist", he nodded. "So, Seneca. First of all, congratulations on landing the most aspired position in the Control Room. I believe this promotion makes you one of the youngest Head Gamemakers in the history of the Games. And rumor has it that you might just be one of the most extremely talented as well. Some have even used the term 'genius' when referring to your creativity and architectural skills."

"Yes", I replied, after taking in another roar of applause from the audience. "And others would no doubt call that an understatement."

The applause turned into a collective laugh, and I shot the cameras a quick grin. Now this was the good stuff, I thought. Attention, admiration, respect. This I could definitely get used to.

"That's the right attitude!" beamed Flickerman. "Love the confidence! I imagine that has been one of the very things that have got you this far."

"That and all the years of training and hard work", I said. "And of course there's the heritage factor that can't be denied as well, the gamemaking gene, if you will. I'm a second generation Gamemaker, and my father began teaching me from quite early on. So in a way I have always had this in me, and I've aspired to be an outstanding Gamemaker for as long as I can remember. And so, even though thirty years may sound like an awfully young age for a Head Gamemaker, I assure you I have more than enough experience and talent for the job."

"I don't think any of us doubts that, do they?" he smiled playfully at the audience and milked another round of applause and whistling out of them. "Now then, let's talk about the Reaping, shall we? Tell us what you think about this year's Tributes. We have just seen the recap, made our own conclusions and created our own initial expectations, and now I'm sure we'd all very much like to hear yours."

"Well, from what I can tell, it seems like quite the typical mix", I said. "There's the usual pact of careers from One, Two and Three that always creates a significant threat to the rest of the Tributes. We also have quite a few younger ones, twelve to thirteen-year-olds this year, which portends either a very entertaining bloodbath or some totally unexpected positive surprises. But of course we will only find out the real name of the game once they're in the arena. I mean, sure, we get a glimpse of their survival skills and some of their individual talents during the training and the evaluation, but their real ability of playing the game is only measured after they step off those platforms after the final countdown."

"They don't necessarily need to reveal all the aces in their sleeves before that moment, no, you're right", agreed Flickerman. "But if they wish to convince their sponsors to keep investing in them, they will have to do so sooner or later in the arena. Speaking of which, we are all extremely eager and anxious to see the milieu of this year's spectacle, which I understand is your design from the layout to the tiniest detail. Any chance you could give us a hint as to what kind of setting we should expect to see on those giant screens a week from tomorrow?"

An excited cheer followed Flickerman's comment, and I had to wait a while for it to die down before I could reply.

"Well, to start off, you are correct, in that the arena is completely of my original design. Basically, what I've done is I've taken something everybody knows, something extremely natural and ordinary and, with the help of my colleagues and the professional team of constructors, turned it into something extraordinary and supernatural. Other than that", I flashed the audience a mischievous grin, "I think I'm just going to be evil and keep the rest of it a secret for another week or so."

"Oh, come on!" insisted Flickerman. "You've got to give us more that that! Something about the overall theme? A description of a particular significant detail, perhaps? Anything to feed our curiosity."

"You know, the thing is there is no one single overall theme this year", I began, "but more like a multilayered set of themes and related elements that we're working with. And by mixing those themes and elements with and connecting them to one another, sometimes in natural order and sometimes in total disarray, we will create this sort of changing continuum lasting for the entire duration of the Games that the Tributes will have to keep adjusting to in order to survive. I'm not giving away any particular details, but I guess I could ease your anxiety a little by giving you the number 'four', which basically, in all its simplicity, contains more or less everything you need to know about this year's arena, to consider for the time being. Does that sound reasonable?"

"Perhaps we can live with that information for now", nodded Flickerman as the audience gave another cheer. "It sure sounds like we're going to be in for a real treat this year. The premise seems very bold, and the entire concept sounds like an extremely, deliciously ambitious endeavor, one we absolutely can't wait to see in effect."

"It is a bold premise, and a very ambitious endeavor indeed, a risky one even", I agreed. "One that's quite unlike anything seen in the Games in a long time. And one I can personally promise to successfully pull off. So the thing is, if you expect a good, play-it-safe show, I'm not sure I can deliver. But if you want a spectacular, unforgettable one, you can be sure I will give you exactly that."

"You make it sound like we might actually get to witness one of the greatest Hunger Games of all time this year!" beamed Flickerman, standing up on his feet and shaking my hand again as I followed his example. "I sure hope that is the case! Ladies and gentlemen, give it up one more time for our new, dazzling Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane!"

A ripping roar of applause spread all around the City Circle, and as the audience got on their feet in a standing ovation, I could hear them chanting my name in unison as they cheered. Riding the energetic wave of adrenaline the scene brought about, I took my bow and just took in the sight before heading backstage. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I thought as the cheers echoed in my head. You'll be screaming my name time after time, year after year from now on. Because now that I had hit the big time, now that I'd finally reached the top, I damn well was there to stay. The only way I would leave would be in a coffin – which, in all likelihood would indeed eventually be the case when my time was up, my skills all deteriorated, my judgment permanently rusted. But with the way things were going right now, it seemed like that moment was still a long, long time away. So in the meantime, I would blow the roof off the place as many times as I possibly could, and leave behind an entire legend of extraordinary gamemaking that would write my name on the hall of fame for the coming generations of Gamemakers to see and to look up to. Now that my name was on everyone's lips, I would make them shout it out so many times that when the time finally came that they were given the chance to forget, they wouldn't, no, couldn't.

And damn, would I have the time of my life doing that.

When I arrived at the big nightclub right next to the Games Center, the place was already packed with energetic, excited party goers and Capitol celebrities enjoying the first night of a new Games season. Everybody wanted to be a part of these celebrations, and as I glanced at the ridiculously long queue outside the club, at the square filled with people hoping to get their share of the night's glamour, I was quite thankful for my celebrity status and its getting me right past that sea of party goers and through the doors without any unnecessary waiting around. Once inside, I was ushered to the VIP section, and I quickly spotted Brett, Cora and a couple of other colleagues gathered in a private lounge.

"There he is, the man of the hour", Brett greeted me with a grin after having finished ordering the next round of drinks. "Had a good time with Flickerman?"

"It was alright", I replied as I sat down next to him.

"Oh, come on, Crane, cut the crap and just admit you loved it", Brett insisted, rolling his eyes. "The audience was eating off your hands and you've been looking forward to shaking Ceasar's hand for as long as I have known you. I can think of a lot of words for you to describe that moment with, but a mere 'alright' ain't one of them."

"He doesn't even have to admit it", grinned Cora. "Just take a look at him, at that sparkle in his eye, and it's obvious he's still completely stoked about it."

"That may or may not be true", I winked back at her.

"Seriously, though, you totally enjoyed leaving them hungry for more, didn't you. And I'm pretty sure you also frightened most of the Tributes to death already. I mean, after watching you promise the people of Panem an 'unforgettable show´, I'd be peeing my pants if I were one of them."

"They should be scared", I said. "Even if they think they can make it, that they can play the game, they should keep in mind that it's my game they're playing, and that though they may be able to outsmart each other, hell will freeze over before they succeed in outsmarting me. They might be the stars of the show, but I'm the one running it. And I'll be more than happy to remind them of that if need be."

"You know, if you weren't my boss", Cora purred, "I would be sure to emphasize how attractive I find that arrogance right now."

"Attractive, sure. But it can also be quite dangerous."

I turned around at the sound of her voice and even though I had expected, and also hoped, to run into her sooner or later, seeing her standing there now, all of a sudden still managed to catch me off guard. She looked as stunning as ever, in a generously revealing but still classy dark purple dress, her pixie hair flaming in burning red, and the way it hit me when her eyes locked with mine was like a lightning strike.

"Even the most arrogant, confident and skilled Gamemaker", she began, the captivating gaze of her deep, brown eyes drilling deep into mine, "should never make the mistake of underestimating the actual players. Or those who've taught them to play."

I considered her for a moment, taking in the sight of her gorgeous form and admiring the sheer cheek she had to boldly and bluntly speak her mind, her obviously quite rebellious mind in public like this, in a room full of Capitol officials. It seemed she feared very little. But then again, she'd survived the Games once, an achievement not easily accomplished without bold actions and the absence of fear. And after outliving twenty-three other people in the arena and surviving all the twists and turns provided by the Gamemakers, expressing a controversial mindset in public probably didn't seem that risky anymore. Most capitolians found that kind of attitude unsettling, even threatening. I found it, especially in this case, particularly arousing.

"I assure you", I began, standing up and taking a couple of steps towards her to close the space between us, "that I wouldn't dream of overlooking what's right in front of me. Miss Cobb."

"Gamemaker Crane."

The intense eye contact felt like electricity.

"What can I do for you?" I inquired politely after a moment's silence.

"A lot things", she replied. "But we'll start with a drink, shall we?"

"Absolutely. After you."

And here I had been thinking of the interview as the highlight of the day, I thought as I exchanged a quick grin with Brett before following Arya to the bar. It had been insanely enjoyable, of course, hearing that crowd screaming my name, no denying of that. But if I had to choose between them and the District Five goddess at the counter... No competition whatsoever.

"Something strong", she told the bartender, who was clearly enjoying the view as well. I grinned to myself. I sure hoped to be enjoying a lot more than just the view, as magnificent as it was, by the end of the night.

"Make that two."

As the bartender went about his business, Arya turned back to me, and for a moment she just considered me in silence, the fire in her eyes challenging the ice of my own.

"So", she began. "After all these years you've finally made the top job. Officially become the man behind the mass murder."

"Behind the entertainment spectacle of the year, you mean", I said. "My job is to produce, direct and supervise an event that by law is ordered to be carried out every year, and make it as thrilling and entertaining as possible. That's not criminality, Miss Cobb. It's artistry. Would be wise to keep the difference in mind."

"Ah, yes", she nodded. "The highly appraised artistic talent of creating a venue for a bloodbath, the acclaimed ability of turning a fortnight of death and suffering into one big visual masterpiece. Yes, you told me when we first met that it was your passion and calling. That being an amazing Gamemaker was your greatest desire."

"May have been the greatest", I replied, with a sparkle in my eye, "but that night, I sure had other desires as well. I believe I told you that too. Remember?"

Something in her eyes stirred, and for a split second her iron-hard cool cracked a bit, just enough for me to wonder what it was that she was hiding behind that fiery gaze, behind that mask of determination and anger.

"Haven't really had the chance to forget", she said, burying back inside her whatever it was that had just fleetingly surfaced. Which only made me more eager to strip her down – remove both her clothes and her defenses.

"Perhaps we should make new memories then, to erase the old ones", I smirked. "Or to at least update them. If you know what I mean."

Returning the flirtatious smile, Arya downed one of the two shots of liquor we were served, and then stepped towards me, close enough to make my heartbeat quicken.

"Then perhaps you will find your way to the roof of the Training Center in, say, half an hour", she whispered, her face only inches apart from mine. Then she walked away, and disappeared into the crowd before I managed to regain the ability to produce speech again. Well, wasn't this disturbingly easy, I mused as I downed the remaining shot of liquor. Hell, with her agreeing to a private rendezvous, far from drunk, after practically no persuasion at all, it seemed she was either as irresistibly drawn to me as I was to her, or then she had something up her sleeve. Either way, I was going to find out.

I waited for twenty minutes and then headed out for the Training Center, my thoughts circling around Arya, and the conversation between us. The way she'd reacted when I had mentioned our first private rendezvous all those years ago had been surprising, to say the least, quite mysterious even. Like it had really unnerved her, big time. And due to my naturally curious mind, I was dying to know why. So I would be sure to try and get inside her mind at some point, treat myself to all her complex thoughts and secrets. After having treated myself to her body first, that was.

After the short walk to the Training Center and the elevator ride up to the top level, I finally found myself at the door to the roof. Alright then, I thought. Time to see if the old spark can still truly burst aflame. I opened the door and walked onto the roof. And frowned as I realized I was alone. Great, I thought. No bursting aflame tonight then, apparently. Guess this was a rebellious woman's idea of having fun, expressing her loathing of the Games and gamemaking as an occupation and career path by standing me up. And in a way I knew I should have expected nothing less. Which was why it irritated me all the more, the way I had willingly let her have me going. Gritting my teeth, I turned to head back inside.

Only to find myself staring straight into the barrel of a pistol. And at the redheaded woman holding it.