Jascia Crane's POV (District Two Stylist)

"Here she comes, ladies and gentlemen, Jascia Crane!" A game maker announces as I stride into the banquet. Every year, the head game maker throws a party for all of the mentors, stylists, and escorts. I am proud to be such an honored guest, especially since this is only my second year as a member of the Hunger Games staff.

I bound across the room to a microphone, my metallic silver dress swaying with every step.

"Thank you," I smile at the guests. Although the mentors are glaring at me and rolling their eyes, the stylists and escorts seem happy to see me. I am their prodigy, after all, "This is, like an awesome experience!" I giggle, "All of the outfits in the parade and interviews were trés Chic! There were some hawt tributes this year, so may the odds be ever in their favor!" The guests laugh, "So, like, thanks, and let the feast begin!" Everyone claps for a second before digging into their food. Confidently, I make my way to the head if the table.

"Jascia, may I say, you look stunning tonight," Thor, the District Two mentor, compliments me. Talk about hot. Thor's muscles bulge out from under his shirt and his eyes are mesmerizing. He is so tough.

"Aren't I stunning every night, Thor?" I bat my eyelashes at him flirtilly.

"Of course you are," he grins, "But, Jascia, I have more important things to discus with you than your appearance." I don't try to hide my disappointment when he says this. "I want to talk to you about Scarlett," he says firmly. I scowl.

"I hate that girl," I snap, "she refuses to follow any of my suggestions about fashion and insists on wearing her stupid combat boots every second of the day! Did you see her at the interviews? I had a perfectly fine golden dress that I had spent weeks on all ready for her, but she completely ignored it and wore her drab black clothes from District Two."

"I don't like her either, but I have to deal with her. She needs to stay in her alliance with Jazmine. That's the only way that we can use her fear against her. I'm afraid that once she's in the arena, she'll ignore us and work on her own. Can you talk to her? You know, a girl to girl talk about the values of friendship and all of that? Can you do it for me?"

I muster a flirty grin, "Of course." As casually as I can, I get up mad walk away. If I had been talking to anyone else, I would have thrown a fit, but it's impossible to be mad at Thor. Instead, I get up and find someone else to converse with. Ivria, the District Four stylist, has an empty seat next to her, so I decide to sit over there.

"Miss Crane!" Ivria exclaims, "Your hair looks fabulous in an up do. You should wear it like that more often!"

"Thank you!" I smile. Her dress today is a hideous shade of green, so there is no way I can compliment her back.

"Wasn't it your Grandpas birthday a week ago?" Ivria asks.

"Yeah," I fake a smile. Stupid Grandpa. Everyone always asks me about him. My Grandfather is Seneca Crane, the best Gamemaker in history. After the 74th Games, with the star-crossed lovers and the mutts, the name Crane became famous. Despite the tragic deaths of Katniss and Peeta, the 74th Games got the highest views in Hunger Games history. My Granddad worked as Head Gamemaker for several years afterwards, until finally retiring.

I should be proud. Instead, I despise him. All my life, I will live in his shadow. My only goal is to prove that I am better then him. I became a stylist without his help and I will become a legend without his help.

When I was a child, I lived with my older brother in District Two. However, this didn't last long. Five weeks after my sixth birthday, my brother was arrested for murder. I was sent to train with the District Two stylist in the Capital. The moment I turned nineteen and was permanently out of the reapings, I took her spot as District Two stylist and instantly became famous. I is my great sense of style that has brought me to fame, not my last name.

"I'm such a huge fan of Seneca," Ivria laughs, "He was a total genius. The 74th Games are my favorite. Really, Seneca was amazing."

Slowly, I stand up, balling my hands into fists. I hate Seneca Crane. The fury rising inside of me is ready to burst. I'm about to slap Ivria when common sense comes to me. "Or so I'm told," I whisper through gritted teeth. Then, I turn on my heel and march back to Thor. "But I," I whisper, "am even better."

I flash on a smile. This is practically my party and I am going to enjoy it. And, I grin, Seneca is dead anyway.

-oOo-

Flashback to the 100th Hunger Games

"This years Quarter Quell twist is..." Panem held its breath, waiting for the big news, "The past Gamemakers will be sent into the arena!", President Snow laughs. "Well, the one hundredth Hunger Games will definitely be amusing! Once again, may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I wasn't alive during the One Hundredth Games, but I've heard the story plenty of times. My Grandfather, the one and only Seneca Crane was reaped for the Hunger Games when he was in his forties.

He May have been the worlds best Gamemaker, but he had no fighting skills. As soon as the games started, he ran straight into the cornucopia. Although he managed to grab a dagger and a survival pack, on the way out, he was shot by a twenty year old Gamemaker who had previously worked for him. Seneca's fans called it betrayal, but I call it Karma. Seneca's cannon was the third.

-oOo-

Normal Time

People never mention Seneca's death to me, like they're afraid I might start bawling. I've never met him and I wish that people would would talk about his death, for once. Yet people choose to Remember clever Seneca, not the stupid one. I remember his foolishness. When people talk about him too much, I just tell myself that he's dead and and he died foolishly. I am much better than that. Jascia Crane will be far better than her Grandfather.

-oOo-

The training room is completely empty, save for one person. While the other tributes are getting a good nights sleep for tomorrow's games, Scarlett Spears is preparing herself at the various stations. She has not yet noticed my entrance, and continues to work like normal. I watch in awe as she grabs four arrows, nocks them all in at once and releases in a flurry of hand adjustments.

Arrow one splits the arrow in front of it until it slams into a dummy's chest. The second arrow, which is only a half second behind the first, pierces the dummy's neck, and the third and fourth arrows both land in the empty eye sockets. Her back still towards me, she walks over to the spear station.

I can't help but notice that Scarlett is beautiful, even if it is in a strange way that I'm not typically aware of. Her black hair, stick straight, shines in the dim lighting. Although, she is thin and well muscled, Scarlett has a femininity to her that I can hardly identify. It's not like she tries, every day, she wears solid black. It's natural beauty in a warrior princess kind of way.

She grabs a spear and positions it in her hand. I know that if she throws it, it will hit the center of the target. Instead, there is a moment of silence, where nothing moves, and time might be frozen but I can't tell the difference.

"What do you want?" Her voice startles me. How does she know I'm here? She has not looked my way. The only sign that I'm here is the sound of my breath. It strikes me how truly amazing Scarlett is. She doesn't even need training.

"I just, er, wanted to talk to you about Jazmine," I say. The words come out weaker than I had hoped they would.

She turns and faces me. "You're not the first," she says. Her eyes are filled with raw intensity, the type of intensity I only see in victors. Everything I had planned on saying escapes my head. It was all lies I had planned on telling the girl who is going to die anyways. Somehow, things feel different right now.

"Scarlett, I know you think you can win this the Hunger Games on your own, but no one survives without an alliance," even as I say the words, I regret them.

"I know that you have to get me betrayed," she says. I cannot read her expression, "That's part of the Hunger Games this year."

"Yes," there's no point in lying to her.

"I'll probably die by Jazmine's blade."

"Well, yes," I mutter. Suddenly, betrayal doesn't seem like a stupid fear. Snakes and wolves are stupid fears. When you kill the snake, you have found your fear. Betrayal is impossible to face? When you are betrayed, it is by someone though to be a friend. And in the Hunger Games, betrayal is death.

"I'll stay with Jazmine, don't worry your pretty little capital mind," Scarlett doesn't smirk. She just watches me. "I'm afraid that if I don't go with her," Scarlett throws her spear behind her, and it still strokes the dummy in the center of the target, "I'll betray myself."

A/N

Thank you Oceanebreeze13 for writing this chapter! She will be writing many of the interludes throughout the games, but there will still be some from me occasionally. I'll be writing the main chapters. The next chapter is the BLOODBATH! But watch out, before the games, there's going to be an extra PLOT TWIST! Stay tuned and I'll have the bloodbath and the extra twist soon!

By the way, we have just passed the 100 review mark! Thank you everyone for supporting this story so far!

Who is Eriabelle's tribute crush? (Hint, she was in the last chapter)

Please review!

Angelofmusic4ever and Oceanebreeze13