A/N I'm back! Things have quieted down quite a bit, so I'm going to slowly ease back into my writing schedule.

Maximius Reyne, 53 Years Old, Head Gamemaker

I lean back in my chair and look the aspiring Gamemaker in the eye. So far, he's done fine. He's creative, quick on his feet, and a pleasure to work with. Most people forget the last one, but I don't care how skilled you are if you are a nightmare as a co-worker. There are always others with the same skills; most young people here in the Capitol forget that the world doesn't revolve around them. I lean forward again and place my hands on my desk.

"What is your goal as a Gamemaker?" I ask. This is the question, the one that makes or breaks a career in gamemaking.

"Well," he says, confident as he's been throughout the whole interview. "I just want to put on a great show. I want the Games I work on to be the best ones ever made."

I mentally push a buzzer. Wrong answer. I stand up and shake his hand. "Thank you," I say, "You will be notified if we choose to accept you."

"Thank you," he says, oblivious that anything's wrong, "I look forward to working with you."

Too bad for him. This should also teach him a lesson about presumption. This happens every year. We open a few Gamemaker spots, and everyone wants to get in. It's too bad for them that most of them don't get the point. It's been so long since the beginning of the Games; so few people remember what the entire point of the Games is.

I toss the guy's resume into the garbage can. I won't be needing it anymore. I look down at the stack and call my secretary.

"Send the next one in," I say, "Gavius Pherinora."

The door opens, and a young man in his twenties confidently walks into my office. His hair, dyed a simple off-white, contrasts well with his back suit. I could see him becoming a fashion trendsetter if he ever becomes famous. This interview is about to determine that.

I stand up and offer my hand. "Hello, Mr. Pherinora," I say.

"Hello, Gamemaker Reyne," he says, his voice smooth but certain, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Take a seat." I gesture to the empty seat.

"Thank you."

Nice. Polite, confident, and smartly dressed. Way to make a good first impression. It's amazing how many young men today don't thank anyone for anything.

"So, Mr. Pherinora," I say, "May I call you Gavius, or do you prefer to go by your last name?"

"Gavius is fine," he says, "It feels weird being called anything else. If I ever make it big, I'll get used to it, but for now, Gavius will do."

That "If" was critical. He knows that I have the power here, and he's not going to strut his feathers. I can't imagine him showing off, though. "Okay, Gavius," I say, "Tell me a bit about yourself. What's your background?"

"My father is the CEO of Jeweline Cosmetics," he says, "and I think he originally wanted me to go into business. I didn't want that. That's really why I'm here. A future as a Gamemaker would fit me better than a future as a CEO."

"Why do you say that?" I say. Gamemakers make a decent lot of money, but the sum is nowhere as large as the salary of the CEO or even a manager at Jeweline Cosmetics. It's the biggest company in the Capitol, after all. Most people would die to get a high position in the company.

"I don't want to sit at the top of my dad's company," he says. He pauses. "I didn't work for it. People will remember me as my dad's son, not as me."

It's a good reason, but it doesn't seem completely natural. There's something deeper. I ask him a few questions about his skills, and I find that he's more of an author. That's critical. You have to be able to spin a plot out of the Games.

Finally, it's time for the key question. "I just have one last thing I need to know," I say. "What is your goal as a Gamemaker?"

His face darkens, and his smile disappears. "I'll make the rebels pay," he says.

"Elaborate."

He looks down at the ground for the first time since he came into the room. "Thalia was the love of my life," he says, "She was everything I ever wanted. She was gentle and kind. She spent her time helping the homeless and building shelters for them. She was even training to be a lawyer because she wanted to be able to defend those who can't defend themselves."

He takes a deep breath. "Last year." His voice hitches, and he clears his throat and brushes his right hand over his eyes, wiping at tears. "She died in the Floreala Sector fires."

He looks back up, his face cold as steel and his eyes burning with the fire of hatred. "That's when I knew that I would make them pay. They're tearing our nation apart, and I refuse to let them do it. Most of all, I won't stop until everyone knows that no one messes with the Capitol and gets away with it. My Games may not be spectacular, but I will forever remind the rebels who has the power."

He looks back down and gets up. "Thank you for your time."

I stand up and walk over to him. I try to smile, and I put my hand on his shoulder. He looks up.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," I say. "I can't do anything about that. But if it makes you feel any better, welcome to the team."

He nods slowly and wipes his eyes again. "Thank you," he says. "Can I have some time?"

"Sure," I say, "I'll see you next Monday."

A/N What do you think of Maximius and Gavius? Personally, Gavius is one of my favorite OCs that I've created for the Ecclesiastes-verse, along with Octavian, Klinka, and Velleius.

Anyway, submissions are still open. I haven't received very many, so I'd be greatly obliged if you help spread the word about this story.

Also, ChocolateChipHomocide, you have a guaranteed spot. Please try to get your tribute in as soon as possible.

See y'all soon! I look forward to more submissions!

~Joseph