Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

By Fanfic Allergy

Rule Eight:

The Quarter Quell had been announced and turned the world upside down with its revelation that the winners of the previous Games would be reaped. I knew I was going in and I also knew I was going to die. I'd made that deal with Haymitch already. He hadn't liked it, but then again, I didn't give him much choice. He'd saved me the first time through. He now owed it to Peeta to save him, despite what Peeta wanted.

I already knew that Peeta would be the one joining me in the Arena. If he was called, I don't think Haymitch was going to take his place and if Haymitch's name was drawn then Peeta was going to Volunteer. Only Haymitch acting completely out of character would change the outcome and only if his name weren't drawn from the large glass bowl.

Also for the first time ever, we were going to train. Train like our lives depended on it. Because they did. Every morning we did exercises to get our bodies back into top shape, which was harder on Haymitch than it was on me or Peeta despite his leg. Then we had lunch and watched one of the Games featuring a possible opponent. After that, we had weapons training with what weapons we could find in Twelve. And finally, we watched another Games in the evening. In a way, the Capitol did us a favor, we knew our pool of opponents this time and we could see them in action.

A few of the Games who still had living Victors were pretty boring to be honest. Like the one with the girl from Three. She didn't so much as win as outlast most of her competition. She'd found a hidey hole in the middle of a quicksand bog in an oak tree and she'd managed to get away with a better backpack of supplies. One with more dried food in it. So while she was hungry, she knew how to make it last and she'd figured out how to make the acorns around her tree palatable. So she spent the entire games in her tree waiting for people to come to her. When that finally happened, a large brute of a boy from One, she was ready. She stood on the edge of her little island and taunted the boy to come get her. When he did, he was immediately sucked into the quicksand. Then the girl carefully picked her way over to him and pushed him under the sucking mud with a branch. He was her only kill.

Then there were the Games like the year Finnick Odair won. That game was quick and brutal. Once Finnick got that trident he was unstoppable and the Capitol had their Golden boy.

But the Games that I remembered the most were the ones where the Victor was airlifted out of the arena shaking and shivering. Not from cold, but from the shock of having survived. And I'd said so.

Haymitch looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Just how do you think you looked on your way out of the arena?"

I shrugged. I knew how I looked, I'd watched the replay and I knew that most of my expression was concern over Peeta and his leg. "I didn't look like that," I said.

"If you say so."

Peeta spoke up. "Haymitch's just riling you. Don't let him."

I looked at my mentor and took in the glint in his eyes. He was playing with me, I could see that, but underneath it all he was trying to make a point. "What happened to those victors?" I asked.

The older man rummaged through a few tapes and pulled out three of them. "This one, she turned to morphling and barely manages to make through the Games. Most of her kids die at the cornucopia so she doesn't have to watch all that much."

"Doesn't she teach her tributes to run?" Peeta asked.

"She doesn't want them to win," Haymitch said grimly.

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't want them to become like her. She's told us mentors several times that she wishes that she died in the arena."

"I'm glad I wasn't her tribute," Peeta said empathetically and I silently agreed with him. Haymitch for all of his faults was at least halfway decent as a mentor. At least he was for me. He'd not bothered helping Peeta at all until I found him by the stream.

"What about the other two?" I asked.

"You should remember this one," Haymitch stated. "She wasn't that long ago. Annie Cresta from Four."

I did remember that victor. She'd gone all to pieces when her district partner was killed in front of her and then managed to survive after Gamemaker's burst a dam flooding the arena. She'd had to tread water for days while all around her tributes drowned. Her only kills had been when someone had foolishly tried to drown her first and she'd pulled them underwater with her and she'd held her breath for longer than they could.

Peeta apparently remembered her as well since he asked. "What about the last one?"

Haymitch held up the third tape. "You mean this one? He'd been a Career. Still, it isn't easy killing your own comrades especially your district partner. To make up for it, he settled down, had a few kids then lost it when one of them was reaped last year."

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I'd killed most of the Careers last year other than the boy from Four and Clove, who was killed because of me. "Who?" I asked.

"The girl from One, Glimmer. Didn't know her dad was victor did you?"

I shook my head, his Games were before my time.

"He coached her on how to make an impression, how to get sponsors, but that didn't mean a damn thing once you dropped that nest on her."

Pushing back the memories of the glowing hallucinations and Glimmer's flesh cracking and spilling green pus all over, I forced myself to glare at Haymitch. "Am I supposed to feel bad about it? She tried to kill me first!"

"No, But that brings us to Rule Number Eight: We're all a little insane. It's just a little more noticeable in some victors than in others."

I felt a wave of frustration wash over me. "I don't see how that's helpful."

"It means that we're all a little unpredictable. Sane people, well, they like patterns. Patterns everyone can see. It's part of what makes the Careers so predictable and it is their greatest weakness, like you showed in your games, sweetheart. Take away their strategy, and they are on equal footing. That won't work with a Victor. Even career Victors."

"So you're saying we should ally ourselves with the Careers?"

"I'm saying it might not be a bad idea to remember that all of us are used to thinking outside of the box."

"Fine! We'll ally ourselves with Finnick Odair and Lyme Stonewell and whatever Glimmer's dad's name is if they're reaped."

"I wouldn't recommend joining up with Striker." When I looked at him blankly, Haymitch filled in. "Glimmer's father. He has it out for you for killing his little girl."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Peeta picked up Striker's tape. "We haven't watched this one yet. Why don't we do that now?"

Seeing the look on Haymitch's face, the warning and the worry, I nodded. "Fine. But I still refuse to feel bad for killing his daughter." Except I did.

And I knew what my nightmares were going to be about that night.

AN:

I am so sorry I didn't update last Thursday. I ended up going to a convention with friends then came back with a nasty case of con-plague. I only had about half of this written before we had to leave and I don't have a laptop. I didn't think we were leaving until Thursday but we ended up going down Wednesday. It was a lot of fun although I am still hacking up a lung, Baltimore and I don't get along apparently.

On to the story, I made up Glimmer's dad. But I am taking liberties with the story and considering the story of Gloss and Cashmere it isn't all that unlikely that a parent/child situation would happen. I hope you enjoyed it!

I hope to hear from you about how you liked this chapter. Reviews are the currency of the fanfic writer, we receive no other reward.

Thank you for reading.