Chapter 2: Four Victors Walk into a Bar

Peeta and I are roused early by Effie Trinket; the sky is just beginning to lighten over the Capitol skyline. Close to 6:30 in the morning.

Up on the roof of the Training Center, we both hug Haymitch long and hard. He might have been harsh and not the most lovable guy to be around, but we owe him our lives. He got us both out of the arena, two tributes at once - something no other mentor can claim. And despite his legendary reputation for being hard of heart, I am astonished to see my drunken mentor struggling to hold back tears.

"You and the Boy have a good life." And Haymitch kisses my forehead as a final forehead. He pumps Peeta's hand. "Take care of her, son."

Peeta smiles confidently, trying to be brave for the old man. "We'll see you soon."

Haymitch smirks. "Yeah." And he marches onto the close-to-bursting hovercraft.

Effie escorts Peeta and I onto the elevator after the plane is out of sight. She takes her leave of us on the basement floor, and we follow the signs to the Mentor's Bar.

From what Haymitch told us, most years the Mentors' Bar is a rowdy, overflowing place. Almost all the Victors have come here every year, even if they are not on the official slate to mentor. Having only ever had one colleague and even spending most of his post-arena career alone, Haymitch never had that luxury of attending with no duties involved.

However, when Peeta and I walk in, the Bar is deathly quiet. Wade is at the counter proper, ordering a round from the bartender. Completely empty tables and booths litter the space around him. It only takes craning my neck for me to see Pliny curled up in one booth, possibly taking a power nap. She'll need it, once the Games go live at 10 A.M.

"Pliny! Wake up! The Star-Crossed Lovers are here!" Wade calls. "Two more, bartender!"

I frown, bristling at the joint nickname Peeta and I hold, even as we join the dark-skinned Career at the bar. "Thanks, anyway, Wade, but I don't drink," I tell him.

Wade just grins. "No problem, Katniss. Just trade out your beer for a water. We've got apple cider and lemonade, too!" He raises his glass of Bourbon to chink glasses with Peeta. "Cheers, mate!"

Pliny ambles over, stifling a yawn as she plops into the seat on Wade's right. "Do you always have to yell everything you say?"

"Have to, to make yourself heard in this environment," Wade shrugs.

"That was then. This is now. Who are you gonna yell over: Chaff? There's nobody else here!" Pliny growls.

Wade ignores her barb. "OK: we have an hour before Game time, and since this place is... unusually dead, let's go over some logistics. I say we try and mentor for as many tributes as we can, not just the ones from our districts. I'll take the Career districts, 1 and 2 and 4, since I am a Career. The other nine can be split three-way between the rest of you. Do we have an accord?"

Pliny calls dibs on Districts 7, 8 and 9, so that she can still at least keep tabs on Johanna and her other home colleagues. Peeta volunteers to mentor 12, for Haymitch's sake, and scoops up Districts 10 and 11 in the bargain. I am left with Districts 3, 5 and 6, even though I know absolutely nothing about any of them. District 6 only has three living Victors with a winning record as equally poor to ours. And District 3 is not much better, with five Victors. District 5 has the most prominent Victory record on all of them, so I bet that they will make a play for this Crown the most.

At 10 A.M., the arena goes live. Wade lets loose a cheer, which reverberates eerily in the empty space. Even so, I dare to sneak an appalled glance his way. How does he think this is any fun? Especially when it is your friends and neighbors going to your death? People who worked their asses off to save your own skin, once upon a time?

Getting a first look at the arena on the TV screens, my heart goes into my throat. The arena takes place in a jungle wasteland, with a miniature ocean surrounding the rocky island that holds the Cornucopia. It is dizzying to see the sheer number of pedestals standing in the middle of the sea's water. So many tributes... so many... and only Haymitch has ever known even close to the amount of competition that ow awaits to do battle.

55 Victors must fight to the death... and only one can come out. And there's only one way to get to the Cornucopia.

KABOOM! An old woman from District 4 suddenly and serenely steps off her pedestal before the gong can sound, blowing herself up and six more tributes around her, in a merciless chain reaction. It only takes quick thinking and forcefields from the Gamemakers before the entire arena goes up. I note how all three of my District 6 tributes were lost in the early foul play, as well as two from District 3. One more fatality and I can focus solely on District 5. And at least now, we are fairly close to the numbers Haymitch experienced when he went into his first arena.

The gong sounds. Mostly the Careers dive into the water and swim for shore. But a great majority of the surviving Victors stay where they are. Do they know how to swim?

"There's Haymitch!" Peeta points out to me on one screen, and I wonder just how much airtime the old man is going to get, given his exalted history.

As we watch, Haymitch tentatively lowers himself into the water and begins to clumsily stroke through the waves. Several others follow his example, yet not all of them have nearly as much luck at staying afloat. Some painfully, agonizingly, drown in the tide. Still others knock each other off their pedestals into the blue expanse, then duel and forcefully drown each other. The Careers and some other skilled swimmers make the beach and dive for weapons, preferring instead to draw life from the sword. Screams and many cannons begin to split the air. Watching the gruesome spectacle makes me shake.

"It's so horrid," I whisper to myself. I have a close-up view of Finnick Odair, the pretty boy from District 4, sink a trident into James Logan, a drunk from my jurisdiction of District 5.

Meanwhile, Haymitch has managed to swim, inch by inch, for the beach, arriving land without drawing any attention to himself. Crawling on his belly along the sand, he gets within reach of a belt of throwing knives and seizing it. Scrambling to his feet and taking off for the jungle along a rocky spoke, he only encounters Jackson Spidell, a young man from District 10, and draws a blade across the twenty-something's throat. Then, my drunken mentor disappears into the trees.

The cries of battle and death reverberate until almost sundown on that first day.

By the time the bloodbath is over, an astonishing 35 tributes have perished. My last District 3 Victor - an aging man named Beetee Latier - was drowned, and half of my six Victors from District 5 were wiped out as well. Pliny lost all from 8 and 9, and only Blight Jordan and Johanna Mason remain from her homeland. Peeta has one man from District 10, Chaff Mitchell from District 11 and Haymitch in his jurisdiction. Most of the Careers, predictably, survived intact, so Wade is doing well. Finnick Odair, Ron Stafford and Annie Cresta of District 4 lived; five of his District 2 colleagues and four Victors from District 1 did as well. That whole group is in an alliance.

20 tributes live in all. Still almost enough to fill an entire Games.

During the second day, the arena traps - rigged every hour in the fashion of a deadly clock - begin to strike. Blight, Chaff and Greir Rollo (the man from 10) are quickly claimed, leaving Peeta and Pliny with only one tribute each to focus on. The dozen members of the Career pack are not fazed by the clock traps, going into sectors to hunt for tributes. And Wade is managing to outmaneuver the rest of us mentors in getting us sponsor gifts. Except for meager offerings, the remaining five competitors - including Johanna Mason and Haymitch - are on their own.

On the third day, there is quite a bit of life lost. A tidal wave swoops onto the Career pack, killing six of them. The survivors - Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, Brutus Gunn and Enobaria Golding of 2, and Gloss and Cashmere Ritchson of District 1 - escape... right into carnivorous insects in the next sector. The twins of District 1 are disgustingly eaten, along with Enobaria. Finnick runs with Annie - his lover - into the woods, and Brutus staggers off alone.

We are already at the Final Eight. 43 tributes have already perished.

"They're dropping like flies!" Pliny gasps.

Interviews are conducted for the survivors, the coverage of which we four mentors observe on TV. When Brutus savagely stabs all three of my District 5 Victors to death on the fourth day, my jurisdiction is knocked out of the Games completely. And Brutus does not stop there. He tracks down Finnick and Annie again later that same day; the pair tragically kiss before Brutus bludgeons them both. Though Finnick puts up a hell of a fight. Wade, Peeta and Pliny only have one of each now. I decide to devote my efforts to helping Peeta.

The Top Three. The Quell is now down to Districts 2, 7 and 12. The very districts where the only mentors this year hail from. I wonder if the Gamemakers rigged it that way.

Haymitch has made an outstanding showing, living off the land and foraging for food just as I taught. He has fought off any arena traps he encounters valiantly, but the effort has left him weakened. I fear if the Gamemakers draw him into battle with either Johanna or Brutus, the old drunk won't last.

Peeta puts his arm around me and places a kiss to my temple. "Haymitch is tough. He can win all over again. He will win. You'll see."

But I am not so sure, as the Gamemakers draw together a fight. Thankfully, it's between Brutus Gunn and Johanna Mason. The battle is vicious, but thanks to some throwing axes Pliny sent her mentor, Johanna is able to pull off a remarkable victory and kill the giant from 2. This stunning display sends Wade flying into a rage, exploding into an argument between him and Pliny.

"NO FAIR! NO EFFING FAIR! SHE HACKED OFF HIS GOOD SWORD ARM EARLY ON; BRUTUS DIDN'T STAND A CHANCE!"

"THERE ARE NO RULES, WADE! JOHANNA HAD EVERY RIGHT!"

Wade seethes. "FUCK YOU, PLINY!"

"GO AHEAD!" Pliny goads.

A beat. Both Victors regard each other, red-faced and their breaths coming in heaves. And then suddenly, they jump each other. The pair, white skin on black skin, are furiously making out. It is hard to tell whose lips are whose, as they dig into each other, both Pliny and Wade's tongues battling for dominance.

Peeta's mouth falls open in utter shock. I, meanwhile, cannot take my eyes off the sight. Ordinarily, such indecent displays would make me nauseous, especially as I have never fancied embarking on sexual adventures with boys. Nevertheless, a strange heat begins to fill me, down to my core, as Pliny audaciously pins Wade to the bar counter and straddles him, tearing at his clothes. I turn back to Peeta, my gaze hard.

"Kiss me," I order.

Peeta gapes at me. But I need not give the command again, or clarify how he should kiss me. Peeta takes me in his arms and kisses me the way Wade kissed Pliny. I moan in pleasure as I close my eyes and drape my arms around him, kissing him back. Our hands wander and pet and caress heavily. I even dare to grasp Peeta's burgeoning erection through his pants and stroke him.

"Katniss..." Peeta groans, gasps into my mouth. And before I know it, his hands are squeezing my breasts, plunging into my pants and seizing my dampening pussy.

"Hmmmm..." I hum and roll my hips into his, as I move into his lap proper. But when I feel Peeta beginning to play with the lining of my panties, wanting to pull them down, I stop him. "Wait. I... I don't want to... to have sex. At least not yet."

Peeta stares. "If that's what you want."

I nod solemnly. "That's what I want. But later, yes. Only I don't want it to look like that." Glancing back over our shoulder, we observe the black beast that is Wade, buck naked and thrusting mightily into a squirming and wailing Pliny. Her white hands are clawing at the rippling muscles in his back.

Peeta smirks. "At least some of us are finding their own entertainment."

I smile, kiss Peeta's lips one last time, and gracefully dismount him. This was a good time out, but the Quell isn't over yet.