Hello again,

This chapter contains minor spoilers for Mocking Jay and major spoilers for Catching Fire, so be forewarned. Sorry for inserting comments in the text and not warning about the violence in the last chapter. I am fairly new to this and will not do it again. This chapter primarily concerns the rebellion and the fifth column inside the Capitol. It also has drunk Haymitch, more Maximilian, and possibly the star of the next fanfiction I am planning on making. Please review, comment, critique, or just mindlessly blather. I will attempt to respond to every review and thank you for your input. Thank you for reading.

Sincerely,

Draco Ranger

P.S. For some reason, doesn't like the asterisk symbol, which I was using to denote time change, so it's now replaced with the )()( symbol I made up. If there was ever a random change in perspective and it wasn't explained, this is why.

Warnings-Spoilers, cursing, and drug use.

If I owned the Hunger Games, I would be rich. I am not rich so I don't own the Hunger Games. I am not making any money off of this.

Addiction and Alcohol

Despite the imminent meeting, I decide to try the injectable alcohol, as it is different enough from drinking to be acceptable. I know this isn't true in the least, but I have a crippling addiction to alcohol and need it to prevent me from flipping out and killing someone. I also know that isn't true, but screw you, person I'm thinking to/ conscience. I have been through a lot today, I need to cool off.

And with that cheery thought, I cross over to the bar and order a shot of New! Rot-Artery Brand injectable alcohol, as it is the first item under the category. There is also Pabst Blue Blood and Thunderbird "We're too drunk to think up a blood related pun" Injections. All of which seen like they will cause me to vomit... er... expel my vascular system.

Nevertheless, I place my order, ignoring possible death, probable alcohol poisoning, and certain embarris...

"Wait! What the F*CK!" The arrival of the syringe interrupted my internal monologue of rationalization and cynicism, replacing it with any drunk's greatest enemy, a shortchanging bartender. The syringe had less than 1/4 of an oz. of fluid.

Used to the overreactions of the Mentors, or possibly incapable of showing expressions because of a stress related stroke, the bartender remained blank-faced, stating "This is 200 proof alcohol. It is equivalent to about five drinks because it bypasses the digestive tract. I'm not going to give you more."

"Well, thank you so god d*mn much, for your concern." I spit back with as much venom as I can muster. Grabbing the syringe, I jam it into my carotid artery, depress the plunger, and storm out, grumbling to myself.

"D*mn idiot, thinks he knows more than me..." I mutter on the way to the meeting with District 4, plus others. Suddenly, my brain fogs up, pushing me from sober to flat out drunk while flipping the bird to tipsy. Crisht. Shh*t. Now... Now where was I going? Something about meat... meater... meetly... meetING! Yeah, that's it. Now where do I go...

"I thought this floor was flat." I complain while stumb- stumbling around. Hey! There's someone. I fall towards him, and land flat on my face.

"Hey, hey buddy." I gargle out. "Can you bring me to the secret meeting?" He looks around terrified, searching for dragons or something. Looking at me, I get a better look at him. Both of him are from District 4? no. 11? no. 7? Eh, close enough.

The Mentor pulls out a private massager and starts to press buttons. I take this moment to relieve myself against a wall. BOY! My kidneys are sure getting a workout.

I turn back to the mentor who is swinging a lamp from a wall at me. "Och" I say on contact, before falling to the ground. Soon I start to see bright lights in the sides of my vis- vision and pass out.

)()(

Oww... why is the light so bright? Uhh, I slowly raise my head off what appears to be a seat cushion. "Ok, whatsh up?" I slur hoping someone will be able to respond.

"Ahh, Haymitch! So good for you to join us!" Someone shouts into my ear, exacerbating my impending/ occurring hangover.

"Max?" I quietly inquire, dreading the response.

"SO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE! EXCELLENT!" I silently question the reasons for my existence. "We just started the meeting! And Ms. Effie Trinket just walked in!" Why do the gods hate me so?

My thoughts of suicide, and how to go about such a thing while nearly in a coma, were interrupted by an unexpected voice "You were found speaking of the rebellion in public. Why have you done such a thing? You know the punishment for such a transgression is death." The sinister voice states in a tone that guarantees intense pain in the future. It is spoiled by a gruff voice muttering "Like you've ever killed anyone..."

This completely throws the speaker off. "What the h*ll, man?" he asks in a normal voice, which for him happens to be almost Jamaican, or at least some unusual accent. I have never heard people speak from Jamaica, but for some reason this idea is sticking in my head. And my cognitive processes seem to be picking up. Yippie, now I can truly concentrate on my life that is nothing but misery. But my thoughts interrupted the previous speaker who is currently going through a rant.

"...if we're going to go through with attempting to overthrow the Capitol, we can't let people interrupt willy-nilly. Rebellion demands order, dedication, adherence to leaders, and we can't simply throw off these demands every time we feel like it. I mean, come on, none of you ever wear the Robes of Infinite Obscurity that I made for everyone. Now everybody knows everyone else. If one of us was captured, the Capitol could find out about all out plans! Wh-" He ranted, increasing in volume as he got into his stride before being interrupted by another person.

"Relax, if the Capitol thought we were rebelling, they would have already had us killed. We're just an informal group that is discussing alternative political views. And your yelling that we're not taking security seriously enough is sort of defeated by the fact that you are shouting about how we're in rebellion." The gruff speaker said calmly.

Jamaica-man replied "Of course you would think that, Commander Lee. You have spent your life sucking up to the Capitol, carrying out military campaigns on their behalf. How can you live with yourself after everything you have done?" Commander Lee is infamous in the Districts for his hard-line approach to war and rebellion. If he is against the Capitol, there is more support than I thought...

The back and forth bickering goes on for some time, with Effie chiming in every so often. Eventually she asks about why I am not asleep or shouting, and gets the reply that I have been injected with a stabilizer that will allow me to function now but prevents the alcohol from being processed until it gets out of my system. With that cheery thought, I tune out the arguments about the overthrow of the current system of government and enjoy the semi-pain free state I am experiencing.

)()(

F*ck, I am exp- expern- feel drunkerer now than before. The lites are out, I get to my feet, all four of them. and fall on my face. Crap. In my befutt- buffettl- f*cked-up state I grab the wall, fall again, again, got it and start to hobble out. Woah... F*cking stairs... Sh*t... Uhh... *blink* *blink* (Sober Haymitch apparently hasn't had much practice with New! Rot-Artery Brand injectable alcohol mixed with experimental anti-alcohol stabilizers, and has lost all semblance of mental control. Narration will be taken over by Effie.)

)()(

"Ohh, HElloooo. Are you Haymitch's friends? He is such a devil. Well, chop-chop, let's get along to Haymitch and remind him of the Meeting!" Effie narrated in her even higher pitched mental voice, not unlike that of a terrified goat.

Sashaying along the well-lit hall with red oak paneling and excretory stains every so often, I quickly happen upon the drunk Haymitch.

"Haymitch, my dear! It is time to go to bed, you need to keep Katniss alive!" I practically squeal in my excitement to be finally doing something good for Panem. He stops... uhh... excreting against the wall long enough to look blearily at me. By the anguished expression on his face, he must be thrilled to see me and completely capable preventing the death of the only people who care about him.

With this completely logical and well thought out plan, I call for an Avox to help Haymitch and head off to make other people's days better.

)()(

"F*cking Christ, I can't stand that b*tch." Thought the Avox GOV-758, who passed by Effie as she hurried off to cause misery to unfortunate souls. Shuttering slightly at this thought, 758 slowly walked towards Haymitch, becoming more and more annoyed with him as time continued.

"Is it so difficult to take a piss in a bathroom?" 758 thought angrily, dreading the inevitable task of cleaning up after the kidneys of an alcohol OD victim. He paused at a particularly brown stain, indicating that the depositor was very dehydrated and could be suffering from kidney failure.

Dreading the punishments that would occur if a Mentor died, 758 picked up his pace and hurried to Haymitch's side. A quick check for a pulse and respiration indicated that Haymitch was in an alcohol induced coma, while a look at the ground showed that he was dehydrated to the point where he literally couldn't put out liquids.

"Crap, crap, crap..." 758 repeatedly as though a mantra, hoping desperately that the evil god that is above us all would relieve his endless torment of Avoxes and not let one of them be tortured into death or mutated in the near future, particularly the one thinking this.

Using a med kit, 758 pulled out an adrenaline patch and slapped it onto Haymitch, forcing him out of the coma. He then requested a medical team to help the Mentor, and started a saline drip to help with the dehydration and reduce the levels of alcohol in his blood stream. His job done, 758 stepped away, faded into the shadows, and set about repairing the priceless red wood paneling Haymitch damaged, praying that he survives the night.

And the first cliff hanger ending comes to a close. Will Haymitch survive? Will Commander Lee kill Jamaica-man? Will Avox GOV 758 ever be seen again?

On to the normal conclusion.

Thank you everybody who read this. Thank you Beth and Audrey for proof reading, once again you are both AWESOME. Thank you CERN for making the internet. And THANK YOU reviewers being awesome enough to say what you think about the story.

egoats- Sure. Let's go with that.

Hunger Games Hungry- Thank you for the support.

missyork29- Thank you for agreeing with the basis of the story.

moonlight goose- Thank you for reviewing TWICE! and thank you again for the support.

sghope16- Fair point about the Morphling/ Morphine thing. I will consider that and keep it in mind. Thank you for the support and thorough review.

Please review, it makes my job easier to know if I am overdoing something, if something is annoying, or if you want to see someone again. I will respond to all reviews and I hope you enjoyed reading.

Sincerely,

Draco Ranger

P.S. If enough people say they like someone, I might choose them (either the person reviewing or the character or both) for the next fanfiction.

P.P.S. The update will be quicker than normal, so you will not be in suspense for too long.