Fame, it's not your brain, it's just the flame

That burns your change to keep you insane

~ "Fame," David Bowie

Content Warning: Abuse

Fair warning, there is a reduced number of POVs here. I did that for a reason. I will explain at the end.

Caden Asher, 18, District 1 Male

Caden couldn't stop grinning the entire time his stylist and prep team were getting him ready. While his other allies were still shaken up and moping about the Letter Incident, he was thinking about shaking up other things.

It was still hard to believe that he was a tribute of District One. He had made it further than Baron and Slade ever would; now it was time to show the world exactly how he'd done that.

He waited in the wings as Safira played up the cunning and flirtatious persona she'd spent all week cultivating. He adjusted the collar of his burgundy suit in the mirror, and listened to see if he could gauge the audience's mood. He rolled his eyes when Safira brought up her little showmance with that asshole Cotton. When the buzzer rang and the PA said, "D1 Asher, you're up," he puffed out his chest and put on his cockiest grin.

Showtime.

"Next up for District One," Caesar Flickerman said once Safira was off stage, "another volunteer, and an energetic and determined one at that. Let's have a big round of applause for ... Caden Asher!"

Caden strode across the stage to the deafening cheers of the crowd. He stopped halfway there, gave a slight bow to egg the audience on, and then proceeded to the fancy white armchair, where he took a seat after shaking Caesar's hand.

"Caden!" Caesar exclaimed as the anthem faded out. "Welcome! It's an honor to have you here."

Caden grinned. "The honor is all mine, Caesar."

"How are you feeling tonight?"

"Honestly? Pumped! I'm so ready for this."

"That's the spirit! Now, I know I ask this a lot, but ... what prompted you to volunteer?"

Caden felt his eyes narrow and his smile grow lopsided, as though his face knew just what expression to make. "Why not? I've been preparing for this all my life."

"All your life," Caesar laughed. "All your life! That takes dedication."

"Of course –– but I couldn't have done it alone."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, definitely. You see, I have two older brothers, and ... they've been hard on me from time to time, but they helped me get where I am today. So I owe them big time for that."

"That's very sweet of them."

Caden chuckled. "Well, they had to do something with their time after graduation." The crowd burst into laughter, but Caden pushed through –– he didn't have enough time to indulge. "Especially Baron. I bet he would have killed to be here."

This got the crowd laughing harder and Caesar made a mock expression of shock. "I see the enthusiasm runs in the family."

"You could say that. You know, my brother Baron once told me that I was the Asher family's last chance at glory. I guess he was right." He softened his smile and shook his head. "No, my brothers were great. They helped me get to where I am today. My best friend, Amos, too."

"But surely you yourself deserve some of the credit?" said Caesar.

He thought of Slade's glares and biting words as he packed up his belongings after being passed over. He thought of how Baron's fists felt as they slammed into his body when he was denied a chance at glory all those years ago. He hadn't understood why Baron was punishing him for his own failure. Now that he was older, he knew it was useless to try to understand what drove Baron to do any of the terrible things he did.

His brothers had meant well, of course. Both of them were upset, and rightfully so. Slade had needed space, and Baron was only trying to make him stronger, pushing him harder than anyone had ever pushed him before. Both of them had failed, and they wanted him to do better than they had. I'd be a shitty older brother, Baron had said a long time ago, if I let you do anything else.

"Of course," he said finally. "I got that nine on my own, didn't I? And that's exactly how I'll win the Games."

As the crowd cheered at his self-assurance, Caden took a moment to imagine what his living room looked like right about now: Baron would be fuming at the subtle jabs he was dealing out on national television, but would keep his anger to himself out of fear of being told off by their parents. Slade would be doing much of the same, if he even bothered to show. Amos would likely be trying to stifle his laughter, knowing exactly what Caden was doing. Caden would get absolute hell for that when he got home –– but by then, he'd be a Victor. He'd already made it further than they ever would by volunteering. The only thing to do now was to win it all ... and show them that he wasn't the wimp they all thought he was.

As if they didn't already know it. Here he was in the Capitol, walking off the stage to thunderous applause, less than twenty-four hours from the arena. And where were they? Back in One, stewing over lost glory.

Soon it would be time to show them why he'd made it so much further than them.

Hendrix "Hen" Conestoga, 13, District 6 Male

The buzzer rang and the shining bard kindly thanked the rage monster for her time. Hendrix Conestoga, Legendary Adventurer, watched her stalk off the stage like a colorful storm cloud. He straightened with anticipation when he saw her vanish backstage.

It was time.

"Next up," the bard began, "we have a brave young man who, small though he may be, has a big story to tell! Let's give it up for District 6's very own Hendrix Conestoga!"

Hendrix puffed out his chest, put on his most confident smile, and stepped into the open, much to the crowd's delight. He and the bard exchanged a brief handshake and after they were both seated, the interview began.

Caesar asked the usual questions about his adventures so far, his time at the Hero Academy, and the friends he made there. They exchanged jokes, Hendrix stayed as confident as he could be, and for a brief moment, he found himself enjoying the bard's company.

Then Caesar's face suddenly grew solemn. "Hendrix, it is my understanding that you're adopted, yes?"

"I am," Hendrix said.

"And how old were you when you came to live with your adoptive family?"

"I think I was ... two. Almost three."

"So you were very young. Do you remember your parents at all?"

"No, not really."

Truth be told, Hendrix did have some memories of his parents, though he couldn't say with any confidence which parts were real and which parts were simply his brain filling in the gaps. He did remember what he felt during that time, though. Happy. Content. Loved beyond any shadow of a doubt.

He reached for the chain around his neck and the ring that was secured there. "I do have her ring, though," he said. "My mother –– my adoptive mother –– gave it to me when she came to say goodbye to me. She told me it belonged to my birth mother. She was hoping to give it to me when I turned eighteen, but, well ... yeah."

"It must have been traumatic, even for someone as young as you were."

"Yes, but I'm grateful that I was able to find a family. Not everyone is that lucky."

"Naturally. I would never have guessed that an orphan from District 6 would grow up to be as well-adjusted as you. Especially one whose parents were executed for dealing morphling."

Executed!

Hendrix's world shattered.

Ice seeped into his veins and his ears began to ring, drowning out everything else. The stage swam in and out of focus around him.

Executed.

Tears began to burn in his eyes, blurring Caesar's now-confused face.

Executed.

Caesar's mouth moved, but when Hendrix didn't respond, his expression became one of genuine horror. "You ... didn't know..." His muffled words seeped through the shock and Hendrix regained just enough mental wherewithal to shake his head.

"Gem..." Caesar breathed. "I had no idea."

Hendrix shook his head. The audience began to mutter amongst themselves, tones of sympathy, excitement, and confusion creating a dim roar that broke the once-deafening silence.

When Caesar spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion, trembling with what sounded like thinly veiled rage. "I am so sorry, Hendrix. I truly am. While the circumstances were ... certainly not ideal ... I do hope you'll be able to find some closure. And I hope you know that your story is very heartwarming to hear."

"It's..."

Hendrix's voice broke. He squeezed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to keep his tears from spilling down his face. He felt Caesar reach for his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. Hendrix swallowed the sob that threatened to tear from him, took a long, deep breath, held it for a moment, then released it slowly. Then he tried again.

"It's –– it's okay, Caesar. You didn't know. And as for my adoption..."

He choked back another sob as he tried to force something out, something to make this interview any less of a disaster than it already was.

"My birth parents might be gone," he said finally, speaking through his warbling voice –– his time on stage was ticking. "But I still have a family. I –– I still have parents who love me very much, and siblings who support me. I'm so –– so lucky to have been found by such wonderful people. And I'll do whatever I can to make it back to them."

The buzzer finally rang, and Hendrix couldn't have gotten off stage fast enough. As he left, he scanned the crowd, looking for the one person he'd confided in. He found Mercury in the mentor's section, storming towards the backstage entrance, looking reminiscent of a red dragon ready to breathe fire.

Hendrix tightened his fists and gritted his teeth, trying to keep his emotions in check for just a little bit longer, until he reached the elevator and could break down in as much peace as the glass room would allow.

He ignored his friends when they called out to him. He ignored his mentor shouting angrily at someone in the distance. He kept his eyes firmly on the ground and moved through the hallway like an automaton.

He didn't see Viorica until he bumped right into her. He jolted slightly at the sudden stop and looked up at her. When he saw the burning scowl on her face, he braced himself for a verbal thrashing, and was surprised when Viorica gently placed her hands on his shoulders. Her face softened, but anger still burned in her eyes, anger that he realized was not directed at him, but for him.

"Let's get you out of here," she whispered before leading him away from the line of gawking tributes and towards the elevator. "You're okay. Everything's going to be okay."

No, Hendrix thought bitterly. It isn't.

He wasn't sure it'd ever be okay again.

Gideon Holland, 17, District 7 Male

The commercial break that normally took place between District 6 and District 7 took longer than usual. Gideon wasn't too surprised, considering the life-changing and highly personal bombshell that was just dropped on that poor kid. Even the great Caesar Flickerman probably needed a moment to breathe after that one.

Between the anger he felt on Six's behalf and the close proximity to the Devil Herself, Gideon found himself wanting to punch a hole or two in the wall. If only the Axe of Justice had the ability to pay a visit to whichever idiot producer came up with that idea.

If the shouting from backstage during the commercial break was of any indication, he wasn't the only one feeling that way. He couldn't make out the exact conversation between Caesar and whoever else between the crowd noise and the sounds of the television, but he heard the words "trick," "Head Gamemaker," "report," and "scoundrel" in there. Then Mercury Soll of Six stormed right past him with a thunderous glare on his face, his own voice joining the conversation a few seconds later. Evidently someone was getting fired – much less than the scum deserved.

He knew couldn't dwell on what had just happened, however. He had his own interview to think about. His family was easy enough, but then there was Circadian ... fucking Circadian. Gideon found himself reaching up and fiddling with his scarf at the thought of that prick.

Finnick had warned him that his criminal record was free game, and had prepared Gideon on what to say in response. His mentor was going off of limited information, of course. Gideon could have told the whole story and admitted what truly happened between them, but why would he do that when he could take the high road, as paved with bullshit as it was?

The commercial break ended. Caesar, ever the professional, looked as though nothing had happened when he called Ebony to the stage. Her interview was passable at best, mainly focusing on her status as a legacy tribute and how she'd earned the first twelve in Hunger Games history. She sounded way too proud of that, given the circumstances. Even though his list had a new addition, that murderous bitch was still at the top.

Finally, Gideon was introduced and called to the stage. He did his best to appear confident as he strode towards Caesar and took a seat, but it came out as more of an angry stalk.

"Gideon," Caesar began. "I must say, you look dashing this evening! Red looks phenomenal on you!"

Gideon didn't have to fake the smile that came to his face. His suit, burgundy like the color of blood on steel, did indeed look stunning on him –– as did his crown of golden leaves.

"Thank you," he said with a grin. "I always thought so too."

"Gideon, I think we should start with your family. Tell me about your parents."

Gideon's smile dropped from his face and his eyebrows knitted together. "Well, my father works a lot to provide for us. He had to raise me and my sister alone after my mother died."

"Your mother is gone?"

"Unfortunately, yes. She was a nurse and caught the flu. She went to see a doctor about it, but she died not long after."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What of your sister? Tell me about her."

"Quince is great. She ... doesn't live at home anymore, though. Not since she got married."

"I see. Did you get to say goodbye to her?"

"No." Gideon hated how bitter he sounded there. "To be fair, though, she was probably caught up in other matters. Her house got broken into just the night before the Reaping. As far as I know, they haven't found the scum who did it yet."

Caesar nodded, his face grim. Gideon, sensing an opportunity, went on:

"She described him as a guy with a scar on his face, like a shark." White-hot rage burned in his chest at the thought. His voice lowered into a deep growl. "He tried to attack her. And she was pregnant."

The crowd gasped at this and Caesar's eyes widened in shock. Gideon had to fight back the smirk that threatened to appear on his face. The Axe of Justice might have been ... indisposed, but now that the piece of human garbage was put on blast –– and on national television, no less! –– Perhaps the Peacekeepers would actually discover the competence to catch him.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Are she and the baby alright, at least?" Caesar finally asked once the audience quieted down.

Gideon nodded. "Yes, thank the Gem. Gave us all a good scare, though. She's due to give birth any day now. When I make it home, I'll have a little niece or nephew waiting for me."

The crowd, calmer now, sighed at this. Caesar nodded in understanding. "Loving that confidence, young man! Now –– and if you don't want to talk about this, I understand –– but I hear that you're fairly protective over your family. Especially your mother's grave."

Gideon's jaw tightened. There it was.

"You could say that. Punched a guy's teeth out for defacing it a while back."

"I see. Did you at least get the headstone replaced?"

"Eventually, yes."

"Have you made amends with the boy who did it?"

Gideon's jaw tightened.

("No, please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!")

"No," he said. "Unfortunately, he died a while back. I never got the chance to. His parents gave me this scarf I'm wearing, though. As an apology." He reached up and adjusted the scarf in question. He could almost feel Mr. Asper's vicelike grip as he shook his hand in the Justice Building that day.

("You don't regret what you've done, have you?")

"What was his name?" asked Caesar.

"Circadian Asper."

"I see. And what would you say to Circadian given the chance?"

Gideon folded his hands in his lap, hoping to hide the way his hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists. If he were given the chance, he doubted whether his words would amount to much more than "I hope you rot!", but he couldn't exactly say that on national television. He took a deep breath.

"I'd tell him that I'm sorry for lashing out the way I did, and that I forgive him."

If you were truly sorry, said a voice in his head, you wouldn't have done it.

The crowd cheered, having fallen head over heels for this shady yet charming vigilante, ready to fight for justice. They had no idea he already had one head to his name, but they'd soon see he had three more to collect.

Florin Cassia, 18, District 11 Male

Florin couldn't help but grin as he examined his outfit in the mirror. Mila had decided that crop tops suited him perfectly, and had made a shining silk shirt that left his midriff and arms exposed, red at the shoulders and fading into pink towards the hem. He also wore a sheer jacket that was a magnificent shade of silver –– the same silver that Zhenya had worn at the parade. His pants were also made of silk and matched the color of his jacket. Mila had gone heavy on the mascara and eyeliner, and had even kept the silver earring he wore to training. The only downside was he wasn't allowed to wear his bracelet, as it didn't match, but Mila assured him that it was in good hands. She made it up to him by putting glitter dust in his hair.

"You look stunning," Mila said as she put the finishing touches on his ensemble. "You look like you're ready for a party. You'll definitely turn heads."

Florin's smile grew sadder. Yes, he'd turn heads, but would he turn the head he wanted?

He remembered his evening with Zhenya on the rooftop. They admired the city lights and recited poetry together. Florin had felt something he'd never felt with his previous lovers, not even Clementine. He had memorized enough gazes to know that Zhenya returned the sentiment, but when Florin asked him to leave the Careers and join up with him, Zhenya couldn't answer. He was torn and indecisive. Florin understood completely. He knew little to nothing about the other Career districts, but from what he gathered, it was clear Zhenya Katolin was never able to be himself.

Zhenya had told him he'd think about it. Of course, Florin was more than happy to give him time, but time was almost up.

Once Mila deemed Florin ready, he was escorted out to the line. He leaned out just enough to find Zhenya at the front, conversing with Macha. He looked absolutely gorgeous in his silver suit, a nod to the Peacekeepers District Two produced. Macha noticed Florin and pointed him out to Zhenya, who turned around and gave Florin a shaky smile and a wave. Florin returned the smile and tried to be reassuring. He didn't want to be pushy. He didn't want to force Zhenya to make a choice. He wanted to ease Zhenya into things and let him go at his own pace. If they teamed up in the arena, Florin could do just that.

He wasn't stupid. He knew one or both of them would die, and the odds were very much against him –– but was it wrong to want to find happiness in his final days? Was it wrong for him to want the same thing for his unlikely friend?

Florin wanted to give things a try. He wanted to find that moment of happiness that he and Zhenya found on the roof. He wanted to meet the real Zhenya, not the one District Two made him out to be, but if Zhenya wanted to stay with the Careers, Florin would respect that decision. He ultimately wanted Zhenya to do what made him happy.

However, Florin very much wanted an answer before the gong rang so that he knew what to do at the Cornucopia. There was no way around it. Whether or not he and Zhenya became allies would affect his strategy, and the indecisiveness, while understandable, was not good for either of their odds of survival.

When Thresh had found out that Florin had recited poetry during his private session, the Victor was less than amused. Mila and Tali thought it was incredible, and obviously the Gamemakers did too if it got him a six. However, it did give his mentor an idea for an interview angle. He left Florin to his own devices under the condition that he not do anything stupid like insult the Capitol, and Florin was able to come up with the perfect message to both the crowd and the indecisive boy he had fallen for.

He watched the tributes go up, one by one. When Zhenya took the stage, Florin watched him carefully. When he recited a beautiful poem about a city with beautiful people who could be themselves without fear, Florin just about teared up. It was beautiful –– and perhaps a sign. Before, Zhenya had been terrified of sharing his poetry with the world. Here he was now, sharing his art, being himself.

And it was a spark of inspiration. Florin went over his own idea, changing words and shaping it into something new.

When it was Florin's turn, over an hour later, he greeted Caesar with renewed confidence, and after being asked if he had anything to say, he rose, gave the crowd a smile, and spoke.

"The daylight is endless,
Yet finite at once
To have so many opportunities
And yet to watch it fade
Sooner than we'd like
What do I do with the time I have left?

Tell me, what makes you happy?
That's all I want for you
You have my heart
And all you have to do
Is take it or leave it
What will you do with the time that you have left?"

The crowd sighed with adoration and buzzed with excitement at the same time. What did it all mean? Who was this for?

Florin hoped and prayed the message came across. If nothing else, he'd grab a bag and run before the Careers could arm themselves. Whatever Zhenya decided, Florin would understand. He had done all he could.

As soon as he was released, he went straight to the roof.

And waited.

So, what did you think? (Sorry not sorry Neb!) Caden is Caden, Hen just got a massive bombshell, Gideon wants blood and Florin wants Zhenya. As always, thanks to Philomena for beta-ing!

You may have noticed that there are 4 POVs here instead of 8. That's because after doing 8 POVs for several chapters, it just wasn't sustainable. It took forever to write, forever to edit, and it wasn't great. This change will delay the Games, but I think this story will be better for it, as chapters will be faster and better. Our new layout is as follows:

Interviews (This Chapter)

Final Night

Morning Of

Launch

Then, we'll have a brief interlude and then it will be bloodbath time! I'm so excited but also sad! I have to start killing your characters soon! See you next time with One More Night!