Plutarch Heavensbee

Gamemaker

He dropped his cup of coffee onto the floor. "I'm sorry. Could you please repeat that, Madam President?"

Coin rolled her grey eyes. When Plutarch was a boy, he displeased his father once. His punishment was a tour of District 12. His father wanted him to gain perspective on his privileges and status.

It was that tour that pushed Plutarch toward rebellion. It was the best thing his father ever did for him. It put him on the right path.

During his little tour, he spent a day in the Seam. The people had grey eyes. So beautiful.

Coin's eyes looked nothing like the Seam's grey. It looked like all the color had been sucked. In a strange way, it fits Alma Coin. She lacked humor or passion or any other emotion as far as Plutarch could.

Other than hatred. Coin hated President Snow with a burning rage. For the life of him, Plutarch couldn't figure out why. Alma Coin was Thirteen, born and bred. She had never lived under his regime.

The hatred wasn't professional. It was personal. Snow had done something to her, but Coin wasn't sharing.

President Coin sighed. "One of our agents is a tribute in the Hunger Games."

Yeah, that's what he was afraid he said. "Madam President, the danger-"

"Was within acceptable parameters."

"The Capitol keeps detailed records."

"That won't pose an issue here. We've made proper arrangements. One of the agents you provided for us has created an electronic footprint. As far as the Capitol knows, our agent has lived in the district their whole life."

Plutarch resisted pinching the bridge of his nose. "Even if the footprint is there, if the Capitol looks into this agent's past-"

"Not a problem. We've taken advantage of natural phenomenon."

Plutarch had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

"Our agent has been in the district for three years now. They've established a presence."

Plutarch would have to take her word for it. If the Capitol tracked it back to his agent, that might be the end of Plutarch Heavensbee.

"If you're so worried, have one of your agents sent to District 13. We need a liaison team."

As much as he didn't want to, that might be the best choice. Damn Coin and damn Snow.

"What's the point of putting a tribute in the arena."

"I thought that would be obvious, Mr. Heavensbee. You're the one who gave me the idea."

He did? "I don't follow."

"Gamemaker Isis."

That was the last name Plutarch wanted to hear. "She's with the peacekeepers now. Out in Seven."

"Oh yes. Isis is gone. But the mistake that cost her the job?"

Plutarch didn't have to ask. "We couldn't fix it. Seneca patched it as best we could in the time we had, but the weakness is there."

"Yes. If our agent can exploit this weakness, what do you think would happen?"

Under normal circumstances? Death.

But if Thirteen was ready and prepared, it might offer a unique opportunity.

"It can't be tracked back to me."

"I agree, Mr. Heavensbee. You're too valuable. I believe Gamemaker Sett is eager to strike a bow against Snow. If we can't extract her, it's not great loss."

Catalina Grey

District 4 Female Tribute

District 4 was a career district. But at the same time, it wasn't. Four never bought into the glory and honor like Two did. Or for influence and wealth like One.

Four became a career for one reason: to protect its people. If there were volunteers every year, no screaming children would be reaped. Four could send kids who had the training to survive the arena. As members of The Alliance, they gave their tributes the best possible chance.

District 4 straddled the line between the inner and outer districts. There was a divide among the Victors from the inner and outer districts. It was a line not easily crossed, but Four could pass through that barrier.

District 4 didn't have a community home like other districts. Orphans were placed in the car of the Conservatory. Officially, the Conservatory was a school for the orphaned. In reality, it was the Hunger Games Academy. Orphans trained to survive the games.

Four had volunteers nearly every year. Now and then, no one would step forward, but those days were rare.

Not every student at the Conservatory could enter the games. Those who graduated could join the peacekeepers. Four was friendly enough with the Capitol that they were allowed to police themselves. Only One and Two could say the same.

There were other options for graduates. A graduate was guaranteed a place in the Coast Guard or the Peacekeeper Navy. Graduates might even go on to become teachers and trainers at the Conservatory.

District Four had no shortage of orphans to fill the Conservatory. The main settlement that wasn't all of Four. There were dozens and dozens of little towns and small villages that dotted the coast. Work at the docs or sea could be dangerous.

Not every student at the Conservatory was an orphan. The graduates got prestigious job opportunities. For families who wanted to enroll their children, all they had to do was pass a grueling Entrance Exam.

That was how Catalina ended up in the boarding school. The Conservatory wasn't in the main settlement. It was the centerpiece in a small village so far away the Conservatory has a small train to shuttle students and staff.

The Conservatory was an entire village in itself. The goal was to isolate the students. It was easier to mold them that way.

Catalina should know. She had studied for the damn Entrance Exam for years. Her family were poor fishers in one of the northern villages. Their prospects weren't good. So they threw their daughter into the Conservatory.

Not to graduate and get a good job. Catalina's family wanted her to volunteer. Her parents believed in the games and the system. Catalina had as well when she first arrived.

But the Conservatory broke her delusions. The school presented the games for what they were.

Still, she would volunteer. Her parents still expected it of her, but Catalina had a better reason. She was at the top of her class, one of the most promising students in the Conservatory. If anyone could win, it was her.

She could spare some girl's life and return rich beyond her wildest dreams.

She had to stop thinking about the other tributes as people. Her fellow students always said she was cold, but getting around that problem was more problematic than she thought.

The trainer blew her whistle. "The winner is Catalina!"

She released the other girl from the full-body hold.

The older girl was on her knees, gasping for air. Catalina whipped the sweat off her face. The other students watched the scene silently.

The trainer turned to her opponent first. "Longwater, you lost. You're a reserve volunteer. Ms. Grey, you're the official volunteer this year."

Catalina had been the official volunteer for three months. She didn't have to accept the older girl's challenge, but Catalina had been taught to put threats down. So she took the girl down hard. It would have been easy to disable her, but Catalina put on a show.

No one would question her place again.

The instructor patted her shoulder. "You'll do us proud in the arena. If you want to graduate, I can arrange a good place in the Coast Guard."

Catalina took a deep breath and put her mask on. In the Conservatory, they taught students how to create a personality. Some went for bloodthirsty or cruel, but Catalina had taken a different approach. Her mask was happy, friendly, and deadly when she needed to.

"Thank you, instructor! But I know what I want to do."

The older woman sighed but did so with a small. "Hit the showers, Grey. The train leaves in an hour."

"Right."

The small didn't disappear until she was alone in the shower room.

Catalina's blonde hair was messy after the match. Her blue eyes stared back at her from the mirror. She splashed water on her face.

Catalina could hardly remember when keeping the mask on had been exhausting. These days, it was so natural.

"Catalina?" a voice called.

One of Mag's right hands appears. According to the gossip around school, this woman got trained by Mags for the Second Quarter Quell. She didn't go through with it. It might have saved her life.

"What is it?"

The instructor held up a creamy note. Emblazoned on it was a black 4.

"If you volunteer, your team is in here."

Catalina snatched it from her. She broke the seal right away.

Mentor: Finnick Odair. M (65)

Support Team: Remora. F (59). Marilyn. F (40)

District 4 had an abundance of Victors. Each tribute got an extra two with the official mentor.

Remora and Marilyn were skilled mentors in their own rights, but her eyes flickered to the top of the paper. Finnick Odair was her mentor. Finnick was the Capitol's golden boy. The year before last, he pulled Annie Cresta out of the arena. An impressive feat, considering she lost her mind.

If Catalina was going to have a mentor, she deserved the best. And she got it.

The train connecting the Conservatory to the main settlement was normally more extensive. Today was Reaping Day, so the train car was smaller.

It was big enough to fit the five male volunteers, the five female volunteers, and the instructor coming with them. As the prime volunteer, Catalina boarded the train first with Finbar Wayne.

Finbar wasn't what she would call handsome, but he was huge. She had seen him swing a mace like it weighed nothing. She could barely lift the maces at the Conservatory.

Catalina fixed her mask and smiled. They each took the back seat. "Hello, Finbar."

The big boy looked up at her. "Catalina. I didn't think you'd volunteer."

"Why not?"

Finbar shook his head. "You have so much life."

"I plan to live a very long life. I'll be back after the games."

Maybe it wasn't nice to say, but Finbar wasn't coming home. Not if she had anything to say about it. There was no point in sugarcoating it.

Finbar was big, but he was lumbering. If they had to fight, she'd avoid a head-on confrontation. The best way to take him down would be to stay in his blind spot. Poke and stab him until he stopped moving.

Finbar looked out the window. "You don't know that. You can't guarantee coming back."

Catalina guaranteed that herself.

"I guess not."

Finbar turned to her suddenly. He grabbed her arm in a vice grip. He was too strong to pull away.

Note to self: don't let him grab you, she thought.

"Don't do it."

"What?"

"Don't volunteer. Don't play the game."

"I'm the prime volunteer," she reminded him.

"Let someone else do it. There are four other girls here."

Catalina had worked for this. She put her blood, sweat, and tears into the Conservatory. All for this day. She wouldn't let Brooke, Cove, Kipper, or Nikki take her place on that stage. If Finbar wanted an easier kill, he should have volunteered last year with Oceanelle.

Oceanelle got Johanna Mason's axe put in her head on day two. Tahoe outlived Oceanelle by a day. It wasn't a great showing for Four last year.

Maybe Finbar would have done better than Tahoe. More likely, Johanna Mason's act would have fooled him.

"Please let go of me."

Finbar retracted his hand. With a final smile, she turned away from him.

The ride to Blue Port was quiet. It suited Catalina. She didn't have to keep her mask on in the car.

Her parents were waiting for her at the platform. Catalina had seen them a month ago when the Conservatory gave its students a week off. But they acted like they hadn't seen her in years.

They embraced her on the platform. They were so proud of her. They knew she was coming back.

It wasn't long before the trainer pulled them apart. "You'll have plenty of time to say goodbye in the Justice Building," he reminded them.

It wasn't just Catalina. All the tribute candidates were separated. The Reaping was about to start. They didn't have time for an early goodbye.

The trainer shuffled them to the square. Every kid who lived in the Blue Port was already there. There were too many kids in the district to have everyone at the Reaping, so the authorities held an early lotto to determine which village kids would attend.

Catalina was first in line. The peacekeeper took her blood and registered her. "Good luck, Catalina."

She didn't need luck. She had skill.

Catalina took her place with the fifteen-year-old girl. There were four people on the stage. Mayor Seaworth, Eudoxus, Finnick Odair, and Ariel Porterfield.

Ariel Porterfield was District 4's second female Victor. She won fourteen years after Mags, walking out of the First Quarter Quell. Catalina had Finnick Odair, so there wasn't any point in jealousy, but Ariel had as many connections as Finnick. She had spent most of her life networking in the Capitol. Only Mags was more influential.

Finbar would have a good mentor, which made things difficult for her. Catalina preferred someone like Haymitch Abernathy for her district partner.

She wasn't standing long before the mayor stood up. He started reading the same story every year. He tells of the history of Panem, the country that rose from the ashes of a place once called North America. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, and the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us new laws to guarantee peace and gave us the Hunger Games.

Catalina did her best to ignore it. How many times has she heard it?

Bright and happy, a dyed-blue man took his place at the podium. His facial hair looked like seaweed. The rest of his head was bald.

Eudoxus had been District 4's escort for as long as Catalina could remember. He always sported that stupid beard. Despite his age, he looked the same as very.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Without any further ado, he went over to the girl's ball. After riffling through it, he pulled a slip of paper and returned to the podium.

"This year's female tribute from District 4 will be... Shelly Lee! Come on up, you lucky girl!"

A twelve-year-old walked confidently to the stage. If this was an outlier district, the girl would be crying. But this was Four. She didn't have anything to worry about.

After saying a little about herself, Eudoxus asked expectantly: "Are there any volunteers?"

Catalina raised her hand. "I volunteer as tribute!"

The escort smiled at me. "Then please, come up to the stage!"

Catalina knew somewhere Brooke must be seething. Good. Let her seethe.

Shelly favored her with a smile as she passed.

"And what is your name, young lady?"

"Catalina Grey."

"There you have it, folks! Let's hear it for Catalina Grey!"

The crowd cheered.

Eudoxus walked over to the boy's bowl and pulled out another slip. "Trenton Whitmore! Please come up and join us!"

An eighteen-year-old boy swaggered onto the stage. He was laughing, and he happily shook Eudoxus's hand. "Now that's the spirit. How are you, Treyton?"

"I'm doing fine, Eudoxus. Happy to be here."

Of course, he was. Treyton wasn't in danger. If none of the boys volunteered for him, then things would change.

"Are there any volunteers?" Eudoxus called out.

Catalina stood waiting for Finbar to raise his hand. He'd climb the stage like a hulk and take his place.

But he didn't. Finbar never raised his hand. Catalina tried to find him in the crowd, but it was pointless.

She could see Treyton getting nervous, but there was a reason Four had multiple volunteers.

A hand shot up out of the sixteen-year-old section. "I volunteer as tribute!"

A boy with raven black hair and sea-green eyes appeared. His eyes were the same color as Finnick Odair. This boy was incredibly handsome. Catalina recognized her from the Conservatory. He was one of the reserve volunteers.

He was new to the school. If Catalina remembered right, his village was destroyed in a storm. He was the only survivor.

Treyton looked visibly relieved. He even shook his savior's hand on the way down.

"And what is your name, young man?"

"Aqua Tyber."

Iskander Crane

Son of Head Gamemaker

He jumped on the couch, right in between Hermes and Venus. His girlfriend was on her phone.

Capitol TV was displayed above Claudius Templesmith. A counter was timing down in the upper right-hand corner.

"It's almost time!" Iskander said, rubbing his hands together.

Hermes was grinning like a fool. "I can't wait to see the fresh meat! We need a good showing after last year."

Iskander shook his head. "My friend, you're crazy. Johanna Mason was wild when she flipped! She killed three of the alliance and that huge boy from Five!"

Hermes nodded. "Okay, that was pretty cool."

Iskander looked at Venus, but she was still on her phone. "Hello? Earth to Venus?"

His girlfriend had heard that joke so many times she shot him a dirty look.

Hermes smirked. "At least your mom didn't name you Uranus."

Iskander shook his head. "She has such an unfortunate name."

He still couldn't get over one of the girls in his class was named Uranus. The jokes wrote themselves.

"Shut me," Venus spit.

"Jeez. What's eating you, Venus?"

She turned her phone so they could see it. The social media network CAPITAL! was on the screen.

Iskander didn't understand what was wrong at first. Then he saw it. Persephone and Prosperina Snow, the president's twin grand daughters, were posting pictures of their trip to District 4.

They were watching the reaping in person from a distance.

"I hate them," Venus hissed.

Iskander didn't comment. What was he going to say? She shouldn't hate her nieces?

Venus might be the same age as Persephone and Prosperina, but she was President Snow's bastard daughter.

Iskander had to give it to the old war dog. Despite his age, he was going at it.

He'd never say that to Venus. She'd gut him. Or break up with him. He couldn't decide which was worse.

Hermes didn't have Iskander's tact. He wasn't dating Venus. He didn't need to. "Jeez, still obsessing over them."

She snatched her phone back. "I am NOT obsessing!"

Hermes laugh was cruel. "Sure you are. You're just jealous they can afford trips like these. If it wasn't for Iskander, you'd be back in Red Rose."

Red Rose was the red light district in the Capitol. It was the only place prostitution was leagal. Officially.

Venus's mother had been a Pleasure Pillow Snow hand picked.

"What's wrong with Pleasure Pillows?" Venus hissed.

"There's nothing wrong with whores-"

Iskander stepped on his foot.

"Pleasure Pillows," Hermes continued with a wince.

Jeez, these two. Iskander knew they were friends, but sometimes they didn't act like it. When one pissed the other off, they went for the throat.

The anthem began to play, and District 1 appeared on screen.

He was literally saved by the bell.

"Knock it off, both of you. The Reaping is starting, and if you make me miss it, I won't invite you to Finnick's Arena next year. My father booked Finnick Odair himself, so he'll be guiding the tour."

That shut them up.

Author's Note: The Reaping and the Train Ride will each be one chapter. We'll do one chapter for the Chariot Rides, three chapters for the three days of training. A few more chapters for the interview and prep days. Then we'll be in the arena