Author's Note: Another take on one of the main scenes from the novel before the arena. I hope I've kept the canon characters in character whilst also showing a bit more of how I think everyone would have behaved.

….

Private Sessions

Gloss was polite, charming, if a little distant. He simply chose to demonstrate the routine from his private session with the Gamemakers in the Sixty-Third Games. "A little bit of nostalgia," he called it. He threw knives with a greater speed and accuracy than he had previously, caused some damage with the swords and managed a perfectly acceptable display with a spear. Then his fifteen minutes were over.

If Gloss kept up his charm, Cashmere was bitter. She also repeated her private session from the Sixty-Fourth Games but provided her own commentary.

"We've had fun all these years, haven't we? So. Much. Fun."

She continued to throw knives into the dummies, "Perhaps too much fun. That's what all this is, isn't it, Plutarch? Someone thinks we've enjoyed ourselves too much, taken too many liberties. But we've got to know each other so well, haven't we? Augustus? Octavia? Theodore, no, Teddy?"

Several of the Gamemakers began to look awkward in their seats, not wanting to meet each other's, or Cashmere's eyes, knowing exactly what the victor was referring to.

"No point in hiding it. We all know just how popular I've been. And look where it's got me? It's the first time you've seen me with my clothes on in years! Not you, Plutarch. You've been rather boring up until now. Now it's your turn to have fun and good luck to you. We all know what happened to the previous one. So, don't have too much fun."

She finished the repetition of her old routine with a flourish, "Well, this is the last time you'll see me this close. Enjoy it while you can. It's your loss." Cashmere curtseyed and promptly left the room.

Plutarch laughed as she left. If District One was going to play games, this was going to be a fun afternoon. Many of his colleagues were already looking uncomfortable so he would get to enjoy their reactions along with watching the victors take their anger out on them. He probably deserved it, but right now he was the one in control.

…

Brutus marched into the gym, stated his name and began. It was an impressive display of strength, skill and determination. Brutus wanted to win, and he had the tenacity and mindset to carry out his plan.

Plutarch felt sorry for him. For if Lyme were correct in her understanding, and he believed she was, then the man from Two had no idea what was really about to happen. He was here to do his duty for District Two, for his victors and he would become their noble sacrifice.

Plutarch had decided they would award him a score of ten. It would fire Brutus up for the arena, wanting to know what more he needed to do to impress.

Enobaria entered the gym with the same determination as her district partner, but she was clearly not of the same mindset. There was none of Brutus' stoicism or nobility. Enobaria was angry.

She threw knives and made some blows with a sword until she stopped to drag a dummy to the centre of the room in front of where the Gamemakers watched. She haphazardly slung a bow over the dummy and painted the number twelve over its chest. She stared at the Gamemakers to make sure she had their attention and proceeded to throw knives into her makeshift target, leaving no doubt as to her intentions in the arena. Plutarch had decided that her attitude had earned her an eleven.

….

For a while, Plutarch was not sure what Beetee was trying to do. A station with wires, switches and various electronic setups had been created in the gym for the Quell tributes. But up until now, District Three's tributes had avoided it. Nobody else had the faintest idea what to do and had left it alone.

But obviously, Beetee had figured something out. He worked quickly, linking wires together, making some sort of contraption that none of the Gamemakers could understand. They flinched when he approached a switch box in the wall behind him. What on earth was Three's man going to do?

Plutarch waved away their concerns and told his fellow Gamemakers to sit down and wait for whatever Beetee had planned. Heavensbee was a scientist, he knew that nothing at that station had the capacity to cause more than minor damage.

As Beetee stood back, he gave away, to Plutarch at least, what he was about to do. It certainly did not look like the sound and safe electrical circuits the Capitol teachers taught Plutarch to make as a child and sure enough, a series of crackling explosions, sparks and thick smoke emerged.

Most of the Gamemakers appeared unimpressed but they were distracted. They weren't looking where they were supposed to be, but only Plutarch knew where he was supposed to be looking. Beetee had circumvented the electrics and removed the forcefield between them. He was ready to go.

The electronics station was already somewhat charred when Wiress reached it. She finished the job that Beetee started and blew up what remained of the station's features. In what may have been an ode to her own victor, Wiress created a series of sparkling, firework-type explosions that left the cleaning staff, the forcefield technicians and the gym's avoxes with a job to do before the private sessions could resume.

….

Finnick Odair sauntered into the gym as if he could not care less about his current predicament. He wore a wry smile as he announced, "We're going to play a game. Well, I'm going to play a game and you're going to watch!"

The Gamemakers looked on confused as Four's victor continued, "Don't worry, you'll get your fun in a couple of days. So, it's only fair I get my moment now."

He picked up a spear and began to deliver blows as he began, "For every hit I get, I tell you a secret."

"One. Augustus, your wife knows about your latest side piece and just how much younger she is. She's getting tired of your antics."

"Two," he continued after hitting another target with the spear, "Octavia, darling Octavia, haven't we had some fun together? It's a shame your husband gambled away most of your inheritance, isn't it? Who let that one slip, I wonder? Oh, he did. I don't think either of you realised you've been sharing me for a while," Finnick laughed as the Gamemaker turned a bright shade of red.

"Three. Teddy Bear. Always worried that your mother favours your sister. Well, you were right to be. She does. I've spent time with mother dearest too."

Finnick threw the spear aside, "That's not what you wanted to see really. Time for the main event." He picked up a trident and began circling it around his body as he continued, "This is fun, isn't it? Hope you're enjoying this as much as I am!"

"Four. This is better. We all enjoy the trident more. I know you do, Athena. Oh, and dearest Athena, it's a shame about those jewels. You might want to check the safe when you get home. Oops!"

Athena appeared confused, but Finnick's contacts knew when the house would be empty.

"Five. Whose cousin is the Chief of the Intelligence Agency? Ah, yes, it's Mercury, isn't it?" Finnick said, pointing towards one of the Gamemakers who had so far kept quiet. "He's not very intelligent is he, getting caught up with those gang leaders. How many million were they asking for again?" he laughed.

"Six. I'm good at this, aren't I? Back to you, Augustus. Those photos. Your wife certainly won't want those getting out. Would be rather embarrassing, would it not?"

Finnick continued to wield the tridents available, alternating between throwing and landing blows towards the centre of the targets of the dummies until they were lined up on the gym floor.

"And before I leave you all, Mr Plutarch Heavensbee, our esteemed Head Gamemaker himself. I know all about what you've been up to. Let's make sure we stay on friendly terms."

Finnick bowed and restored the weapons to their original positions before leaving, "It's been fun getting to know you all these past ten years."

The Gamemakers were left wondering exactly how much Finnick Odair had managed to find out and whether any information he had managed to obtain would be leaked during the course of the Games. It was left to Plutarch to try to calm their fears.

Mags' entrance left them with no time to worry about whether Finnick was simply leaving empty threats or whether he meant anything by what he said. But the Gamemakers didn't have much to focus on. Mags weaved a mat out of some of the reeds available, caught Plutarch's eye, shook her head in disappointment at him and fell asleep.

Mags's disappointment in him was perhaps what shook Heavensbee the most during the private sessions. But he decided to reward her audacity and his longstanding respect for her with a suitable score.

….

Hal was desperate. But the Gamemakers were distracted. Food was being served and more drinks were sure to follow. He tried to throw knives with mixed results and ended up furiously stabbing at the dummies and then slashing them with the sword he picked up.

But the Gamemakers paid him very little attention, which only served to make Five's victor angry. He started swearing at the girl from Twelve as if she were the dummy he was currently destroying. That did grab the attention of some of the Gamemakers who chuckled at the victor's attitude. He still had a bit of fire and fight left in him and if he carried a hatred for the victor of the moment, they could work with that. It would increase his score at least.

Luna was resigned to her fate, bored of going through the motions and disinterested in playing the game. She struggled to the top of the climbing nets, stabbed a couple of dummies and left without being dismissed.

….

Levi sat at the camouflage station, quiet for a moment, ignoring the Gamemakers. Then, to everyone's surprise, he removed his shirt, took hold of the red paint and began to paint himself whilst discussing the myriad of ways the other tributes would be able to kill him.

"The Ones," he started, "Would end it with a flick of their knives." He drew two lines down his chest with his fingers, already stained from the red paint.

"The Twos would rip my throat or break my neck," he smeared his hand in the paint and dragged it across his neck.

"Finnick would drive his trident into my chest," he made three red prongs across the centre of his chest, alongside the lines already drawn.

"Claudia," he sighed. "We've killed each other." He covered his hand in paint and placed it over his heart, leaving a definite handprint over his left side.

"The Sevens would get me with their axes, Cecelia might stab me, and the Nines have their scythes," he continued, by now frantically smearing paint all over himself.

"The Twelve girl. The good girl. Even she could kill me with those arrows." He drew a cross in the centre of his forehead and sent the paint clattering to the floor, leaving a mess in his wake as he left without acknowledging any of the Gamemakers.

He met a bemused Max and Poppy who had decided to wait for Claudia and Levi to make sure they didn't get into trouble on their way back to their floor. The pair were clearly concerned at Levi's appearance and what he might have done but Poppy promised to wait for Claudia whilst Max escorted Levi, hoping he wouldn't leave a red-painted mess behind them as they walked.

The Gamemakers did not know what to make of Levi's display. Some were amused and laughed into their drinks as he left, others sat in awkward silence whilst the clean-up happened before the sessions could continue.

Claudia also picked up the red paint as several of the Gamemakers groaned. Instead of painting herself, however, she turned to the wall behind her, directly facing the Gamemakers. In the red paint, she wrote the names of her and Levi's children, Tate and Tyna who were killed by the Capitol. Tate in the arena of the Fifty-Sixth Games and Tyna at home during the Sixty-Sixth as a repercussion for Titus' actions in the arena. Alongside their names, she painted a white rose, dropped the paint and left in tears, to meet Poppy who remained outside.

"I wrote their names," Claudia sobbed as Poppy escorted her back, trying to comfort her former mentor.

She froze in a panic when she saw the white paint on Claudia's hands, "Oh dear Claudia, what are we going to do?"

….

Blight sauntered into the gym five minutes after being called, "Sorry Plutarch, old friend. I'm a very busy man, lots to do before you stop the party."

He picked up an axe and swung for the dummies lined up in front of him before taking his attempt at throwing his weapon of choice at the targets. It landed roughly on target, not on a par with Johanna's abilities, but it would do, Blight decided. He left the gym leaving five more minutes to spare.

Johanna remained in the gym for the allotted time although she spent much of it sharing her rage with the Gamemakers as they continued to drink. Like Blight, she started wielding an axe at the newest set of dummies placed in the gym before turning to throw them. In her anger, she started to test her accuracy from increasing distances and trying her chances at bouncing them from various other stations towards the dummies to see what damage she could do.

"The Girl on Fire did you a favour. They've separated us. I'd happily throw my axe through your faces if I could," she announced upon leaving.

One of the Gamemakers stood up to retaliate but not before Heavensbee stepped in, "Leave her be. It's an empty threat. She can't do anything. Besides, she'll be in the arena, under our control soon enough."

….

Woof was only in front of the Gamemakers a matter of moments before he attempted to cut himself and had to be escorted out for his own safety, the irony of which was not lost on the other victors once they found out.

Cecelia put on an impressive display with the knives and demonstrated that she had made progress with the use of a sword. She wanted to give herself the best chance possible. To let Finnick know she would not be a liability if she got the chance to join his alliance.

….

Barric and Maizey put about as much effort into impressing the Gamemakers as they did training. They put forward a perfunctory effort with the scythes they previously favoured, tried their best with swords and the climbing equipment and filled the fifteen minutes. It did not cross their minds that they could leave early, in the same way that rebellion was something they never thought of either.

They did what they were told to do for the easiest time possible. They were angry but revealing that to the Gamemakers would not help their chances in the arena.

….

Adan felt his survival was largely down to luck. He was the boy who scored a three. But he tried his best in an attempt to boost his chances. He was not scoring a three this time. It seemed that once again, luck favoured him. His attempts with a sword were successful, some of his knives hit the target, and he was able to run fast and scale the climbing net better than any other tribute who had attempted it in front of the Gamemakers.

He left the gym feeling that maybe he did have some skills that could be useful. He might not survive this arena, but he was going to do his best to help the wider alliance and stay alive with Charo as long as he could.

Charo tried to bring out the girl she found in the Sixtieth Hunger Games. The ferocious side, the survivor who brought her home aged sixteen. She showed the skill she had developed with the daggers and the other knives available for use before visiting some of the survival stations to show she had been listening during training.

…

Chaff made his way through several of the stations whilst singing drinking songs. A song, one from each district for each weapon he used or station he visited. It would entertain the Gamemakers, or at least give them something to think about.

He was relaxed, playing around with weapons he may or may not use in the arena, showing them how well he could adapt without the hand they had never stopped offering him. All whilst subtly (or as subtly as Chaff could manage) demonstrating the bonds between the victors, as who else had taught him these drinking songs?

He made his way through a marching, rhythmic song from District Two, a sea shanty from Four, a song that Halley herself had made up and a jovial number from Seven before starting on a song that Haymitch had taught him. He finished with a favourite from Eleven which referenced his home's fighting spirit and may or may not allude to the day when the tables would turn, and they would become the ones with the power.

Heavensbee certainly caught the references and sat laughing to himself. Chaff would get his wish. It was just too bad he might not be there to see it.

Seeder didn't try particularly hard. She made several attempts with various weapons, not particularly caring whether they found their target or not, whilst making throwaway comments about the circumstances of some of her fellow tributes. She blamed them for what was about to happen to Mags and Woof, for what became of Claudia and Levi, and for what was happening to Finnick, Johanna and the Twelves in their youth.

She looked down on them and treated them with disdain. But what they were about to do to Seeder and her friends was worse than her discontent.

….

It did not really matter what the Twelves did or which skills they demonstrated. They were both going to score twelve. But they played into the Gamemakers' hands perfectly. Plutarch could just imagine how Haymitch and Effie would react. Their pair would be made targets. But only those who felt like they had nothing to lose by being reckless at the sound of the gong would target them first. Those who really stood a chance would wait.

Following Seeder's display, Peeta's actions linked perfectly. He gave the little girl from Eleven dignity in front of those who had orchestrated her death. Katniss treated them with contempt and defiance. But Plutarch secretly loved it. The pair might not need to be pushed too far after all.