Y'all. (I'm not American but this word felt appropriate) I just read The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (TBoS&S). And damn... Anyone who wants to talk about it feel free to DM me about it, just so there's no spoilers in the comments. I'm also thinking of working some elements into this story because TBoS&S has a lot of elements and tones that play well into our story here. Again, let me know in DM's so there's no spoilers for anyone who hasn't read it yet!

Chapter Song: Wreak Havoc- Skylar Grey

My jaw is clenched so tight, it feels as if I'm about to break it. My head is in complete game mode, and for once in these past few years, I don't want to get out of it. There must be something that I missed. There's always something bigger going on. Was it the designer for 12? Had he been hired to design for 12 by someone who wanted me out of the Capitol? Someone who knew about Cato?

I feel my brain fighting with itself. My more rational-side tries to fight its way in. Stop it, Octavia. You're being paranoid. Think, the designer probably saw taking on 12 as some sort of passion project or an act of charity. Those tributes may have been dressed to kill, but that doesn't mean they'll win. Plenty of tributes, from outer districts and careers, have shined in the pre-games portions and still lost badly. But still, what if it's not?

Tonight was my opportunity to get a one-up back on Haymitch. Make nice with the sponsors, and take them away from Haymitch, even though they'll be flocking to him tonight. Without my relation to Cato out in the open, my job will be much harder. But revealing that now would be too risky for him, no matter how much press Katniss and Peeta got because there are strong kids in the outer districts who would mark him as even more of a target. That reveal will have to wait.

But Seneca Crane, however...I cease looking out the window and the city below and look towards the letter on my counter. I pick up the letter. If Seneca wants to meet with me, a meeting he will get. I'll make it the nicest meeting he's ever had in his life. No matter how I feel about the man, I need to put that aside because my brother's life is on the line. I need to be ready to charm, beg, barter, steal, lie, whatever he throws my way I need to get it done.

My mind trails off again, tugging me in another direction. I drop the letter. With these sorts of things, I would usually go to Plutarch. But Plutarch can't do anything without Seneca's permission. And Seneca would shoot down anything Plutarch would suggest simply because it came from him.

No, I have to play this smart. I have to be two steps ahead of Seneca at all times but make it seem like I'm two steps behind. I pick up the letter and throw it into my fireplace so that no one else will ever be able to read it. Naive me would've left it out on the table in some sort of ethical dilemma, wondering if I should show it to Plutarch or Finnick. But no. When it comes to handling Seneca Crane, I'm going to have to take things into my own hands. 

Taking a deep breath, I walk out of my room to join everyone else in the living room. Cato and Clove are sitting on the couch in their pyjamas, waiting for us to leave, while the other Mentors are grabbing the last of their things. Fallon is scrambling around the room, trying to make sure that everyone attending the party looks 'acceptable'.

"What is this party anyways?" asks Clove.

Cato must've been thinking the same thing because he nods, adding, "Yea, and how come we've never heard of it before?"

I adjust my earring as I answer them. "This party is more of a... behind the scenes thing. Everyone watching at home would be too bored if they had to watch all the politics and it's waayyyy too messy. Plus, I'm not too sure that the Sponsors want what goes on at those parties and what's discussed out in the open air..."

Cato and Clove's mouths fall. "Wait, what do you mean? What happens?"

I feel Fallon lightly hit me on the shoulder for telling such stories to the kids. She reaches over to help me with my earring. "Nothing happens," she says, mostly to me, through gritted teeth. "Don't go letting these children think that we're going to some sort of wild party. We are much classier than that I can assure you, we will never, ever be spotted at some sort of 'rager' as they say."

Fallon finishes and walks away. I turn back to the kids and whisper to them. "You'll find out when you're older."

Cato and Clove turn to one another in bemusement, their minds probably running wild with the possibilities as to what kind of party we're going to. Of course, the party is more of the formal, quiet party that Fallon had described, but a little imagination is good for kids, right?

I hear Brutus approach them and tell them to get ready for bed in an hour or so, and if they need to get a hold of us in an emergency, to get the peacekeepers outside the door to contact us.

Once all of us Mentors have collected all of our things, Fallon stands in-front of the door to speak to us. "Now, do you all remember the stuff we went over?"

We all nod.

Augustus begins to recite. "Don't speak to anyone who's making less than five million a year. Go for the high rollers. The richest family's name is...." Augustus trails off, clearly forgetting.

I help him out. I got to know, or at least know of, many of these sponsors because of the casino. "The Frasnbee's, there's about ten of them coming tonight. They have their signature mark of gold injected under their skin to make a vine pattern."

Augustus nods at me in thanks.

Enobaria motions to Augustus. "He'll be a good selling point for us this year. Everyone always loves last year's Victor, so it'll certainly help us."

Fallon looks satisfied with our answers and turns to leave. We all begin to walk out the door when she suddenly turns around again. "Wait, is there anyone we're not talking to this year?"

I shake my head. "Sponsors wise, no. But be on the lookout for anyone Mentors trying to run interference. Last year, three wouldn't stop talking to me, and I literally had to walk away from him. It wasn't even strategy talk, it was just about power coupling or something. I think he was trying to distract me from meeting with more sponsors." I toss my ponytail behind my shoulder. "And I'm not here to make friends anyways."

Enobaria smirks at me. "That's my girl."

"Let's get going then. Chins up, shoulders back, and do that thing with your eyes that makes everyone scared," Fallon instructs us.

We walk, well more like strut into the elevator. There's no one inside, and we pile in. Once we reach the main floor.

From there, we're escorted by peacekeepers to the left-wing of the tower, where there's an extension to another building. It houses much of the Capitolian affairs during the games, the betting centre, and most importantly the area where the official Sponsor parties are held.

The music becomes increasingly loud as we approach the area. We walk along the skywalk, and you can see the cameras begin to flash. I take note of the long line of people outside of the building, trying to get a glimpse of people going in and out as it was an invite-only event.

I ignore all the waves from below, and we all continue to walk in formation, our "all business" looks on full display.

Once we reach the inside entrance to the party, I take a look at all the people packed in there already. Perfect timing. We're fashionably late.

An Avox comes up to me and offers me what looks like Champagne, but I turn it down. I need to have my wits about me tonight.

Enobaria, who is exceptional at drinking within her limits, takes a fluke of Champagne, and so does Augustus. I thought of objecting to him taking a fluke, but Augustus might be a bit less awkward when he's tipsy. At least I hope so.

I'm still getting my bearings of who's here and who's yet to arrive. I try and look onto the top level through the glass railings and check who's up there as well. The party area was dark, dim red lights allowed for decent visibility.

Brutus veers off to go talk with Cashmere and Gloss, and then Enobaria pulls Augustus away to go talk to some sponsors. That left just Fallon and I to make our way through the club.

I spot one the signature gold vine pattern on one of the Monty cousins, not as rich as their uncle, but it'll do, and break away from Fallon. I almost reach Plesius Monty, but Haymitch steps out of the sea of bodies blocking my way.

"Haymitch move, I'm about to lose him," I say admittedly as I see Plesius walking farther away from me.

No surprise, the alcohol smelling Haymitch doesn't move. "You and I need to talk, Miss Scary."

Even though I usually get along notoriously with him, I'm still not too happy about what happened at the parade a few hours ago. And with eyes everywhere here, I can't exactly be seen pushing past him because that would be seen as rude. Damn Capitol manners. "Can this please wait, I have a job to do."

"No, because you and your gladiator-tribute-man doll were staring down my tribute as if she were lunch today, and I don't like it," he says surprisingly coherently. I think I was right, he's been drinking less.

I take in a deep breath. This is not something I want to talk about. I'm still pissed about it all. I refrain from rolling my eyes, and it takes quite a bit of strength. "It was just an intimidation tactic, don't worry about it. You're not special, we do it to everyone."

That seems pretty close to the truth, right? We're known for giving people stare-downs, especially with our welcomes.

Haymitch, however, seems to buy it but not accept it. "Look, I don't care as long as she's not a target because of all this."

Is he stupid? Of course this made her a target. Me not staring wouldn't have changed that. Everyone else was just better about concealing it.

A bit of my frustration begins to bubble to the surface. "Why do you even care? You usually just come to these things raid the bar, and then leave."

He scoffs. "Oh, that's rich coming from you. A few years ago at these things, you used to be fun. You didn't care about all this." He points at my face, "In fact, I think you said you hated these things. So what's changed? Did the Careers do some blood ritual to get you back?"

Haymitch was right. I didn't used to care about this. But I couldn't exactly tell him the reason I've become more interested over the years was because of my brother, or that that's why I was going so hard this year.

I spot that Haymitch's grip on his glass has loosened considerably. Having nothing else to say, I take the opportunity to lightly knock Haymitch's drink onto his shirt. The glass of dark alcohol spills onto his shirt and he looks down onto the mess. I take his moment of distraction as a chance to slip behind him and continue on my sponsor quest.

"We'll talk later, Haymitch," I say to him behind me, making sure a polite smile was on my face.

I don't wait to see what type of glare he'll inevitably send my way. Haymitch is easygoing, he'll let go of this soon and laugh it all off.

I can see people glancing on to the scene behind me, everyone writing it because Haymitch has caused more than one major spill at these parties.

I'm not going to lie, pulling that getaway move brought a bit of a smirk to my face.

I eventually caught up with Plesius and began to chat his ear off. He and his family were usually staunch supporters of the Career districts, but it was always a tossup for which one of us. Plesius was one of the more obscure family members, so naturally, he asks me quite a few questions about my games, which I happily answer.

Eventually, we get a bit of a back and forth going, and ultimately the subject of gossip comes up. I pretend to let a few secrets slip to give him the satisfaction, but in reality, most of the information was from months ago.

Plesius must like me enough because when his uncle walks in the door, he asks if I want to accompany him. Since I would be crazy if I said no, I say yes. 

His uncle walks straight in and sits down at one of the private booths, ignoring people's attempts to talk to him. Vardon Monty was notoriously a tough nut to crack, often refusing to speak to people he felt were there for the money. However...

As Plesius approaches the table, I hear a bellowing voice call to me. "Octavia! Please come, sit. Nice to see that you've met my nephew here, he doesn't get out much."

Plesius looks surprised that I already know his uncle, but sits down at the booth with us.

Vardon introduces me to the rest of his entourage. While half of them were members of his family, the other half were other heads of affluent families. Vardon leans in to almost whisper. "Octavia, here was the reason I won so big last year. When I met her, she just told me what she thought of the whole field, didn't even try to convince me to Sponsor her kid. Then last year, she comes up to me and tells me her tributes a good bet this year. And boom whaddya know, just as she said, her tribute wins." He laughs and shakes my shoulder in excitement.

What can I say? Moves and counter moves. I'd been refraining from trying to sell to Vardon over the past few years with him and just talk general game to gain his trust. Most of the Sponsors take pride in backing winning tributes, and backing low placing tributes is seen as shameful in the inner circles. Connections with Sponsors are a fickle thing, one screw up with big money can stop a Sponsor from ever betting on that district again. I knew last year was risky by telling him Augustus was a good bet, but it worked out in my favour. I was saving up Vardon's good graces for when Cato played, and now is my time to spring the trap I'd been laying for years.

I laugh off Vardon's words humbly. "You're too kind. I was just calling it like it is, nothing more."

"What are your thoughts this year?" asks Mr. Forsythia, a high ranking banker.

I lean into the table as if I'm telling the biggest secret ever. I don't speak until I felt I've left them on the edges of their seats long enough. "My boy, Cato, a protege ever since he was little. He's big and strong. And I've watched him train, he's good with a sword-like you wouldn't believe. Graduated from the Academy two years early. And do you know who the last person to do that in District 2 was?"

They all shake their heads, engrossed in my words. I smirk, knowing I've got them hook, line, and sinker as Finnick would say. "Me."

The whole table begins to buzz at my words. After my conversation with Clove, I also decide to slip in a little about her. "And Clove, Brutus' girl, also graduated two years early. One of them is going to win this thing."

"What about 1?" asks Gareth, who is known to be a staunch 1 supporter.

I think back to what Enobaria told me a few months ago. "I've heard their boy is good with a spear, but nothing special. And don't tell anyone I told you this, but the girl is basically a throwaway, she's a bow and arrow specialist but isn't very good."

Once again, the table erupts into discussions. I smirk knowing I'd done an excellent job. If there's anyone who doesn't believe me now, the moment they see the boy use a spear, or the girl use an arrow, they'll know my info is good. And voila, sponsors for me. 

Before our group conversation can start up again, we're all brought to attention by the sound of a glass clinking. Seneca stands on the double staircase leading to the upper-level, with his gamemaker squad behind him. A hush falls over the crowd.

"Welcome everyone to the first official Sponsor event of the 74th Annual Hunger Games! This is my third year as Head Gamemaker as you all know, so no trying to get me to bet on anything," he jokes. Everyone laughs at his joke, whether they thought it was funny or not. I look away, trying to not stop my face from showing my distaste and spot Finnick talking to Plutarch on the top level. I hadn't spotted them when I came in, but that's probably because I haven't gotten the chance to go up there yet. "But seriously, I know I say this every year, but this year will be the best Games we've ever had, and I'm humbled to be the one to bring them to you. But enough from me, everyone go back to the fun!"

My body wants to take me to go talk to Finnick, but my brain tells me not to on several accounts. One: everyone always gossips when I speak to Finnick. Two: I don't want Seneca to see me talking with Plutarch. I resolve that I'll talk to both of them once Seneca leaves, or if Finnick decides to leave Plutarch's side.

I take this break in the conversation to politely excuse myself from the conversation at the table, best to leave the conversation on a good note anyways.

I take my time, stopping to talk to several Sponsors, and eventually make my way to the top level. It gives me the chance to hype myself up. I might hate Seneca, and he might be dumb, and he might be creepy—wait where was I going with this again? Oh, right. He's the most powerful man when it came to the Games. Other than Snow, of course. And I have to make him feel like I'm his best friend.

What does a man like Seneca like? Power? To an extent. Entertainment though, that was at Seneca's heart. He just wants a good show. And I seem to be good at putting on a show.

An idea sparks into my head. My heart protests as soon as the thought comes. I might be on the warpath, but could I be stone cold? Knowing the only way to make sure my heart didn't take over, I quickly steal a large shot of strong alcohol and down it. Chaff, who was about to take the shot looks disappointed for a moment, but then laughs happily and pats me on the back.

I wait a few minutes for the booze to kick in, and boy does it. Chaff sure does drink some strong stuff. I'm not drunk, but the million thoughts going on in my head turn off, allowing me to focus on my plan.

I walk up the stairs and glance around the level, as if I'm surveying the area and who to talk to. I see Plutarch give me a small wave out of the corner of my eye. I feel a pang in my heart but ignore it. Eyes and chin up, I walk towards the left side of the level where Plutarch and Finnick are. The sea of bodies parts for me, seeing my signature Career face on full display. I reach them, but don't stop. I don't even look their way. I keep walking and let a small smirk play on my lips after I pass them.

I lock eyes with Seneca Crane and walk up to the end of his table.

"Octavia, we were just talking about you," Seneca muses. What a bitch. "I see you got my invitation. Please, sit." He motions for me to come into his booth, which is more like its own room, tucked into one of the walls.

"That was quite a scene," remarks Seneca. Another one in the trap.

I feign surprise. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"What was it all about?" asks Astoria, the head of Sponsor gift distribution.

My plan is working. And so is the alcohol. I shrug nonchalantly. "Oh it's nothing really, just a bit of a falling out is all."

"With which one?" Astoria pushes.

"Plutarch, of course," I say flatly. Seneca raises an eyebrow, and I can tell be doesn't quite believe me, but is still interested in what I'm saying. Knowing I need to sell something fast, I think of an idea. "We had a disagreement about one of my appearances, and next thing I know, I'm not in the Capitol for four months straight."

Lie. Plutarch let me go home for that long of an extended say because of my brother.

But everyone, even Seneca, seems to buy this. It's true. I had been mysteriously and uncharacteristically gone from the Capitol for four months, so this explanation makes sense.

Seneca is much warmer to me now that he thinks I'm separated from Plutarch. The conversation flows until suddenly, all but Seneca and his assistant Fantasia make a mass exodus from the table. I try not to let this shake me, but this was clearly planned by Seneca.

Is he trying to throw me off my game? Either way, I try to not let the exit bother me, but my paranoia can't help it and sets in.

"Hope you don't mind, I couldn't have Fantasia leave with everyone else for fear of improper speculation. But you're good at keeping secrets, right Fantasia?"

The girl nods meekly. "Of course, sir."

Seneca looks to me, and I see the pride in his eyes at his move of blindsiding me with coordinating for everyone to leave at the same time. Is he trying to...impress me? My mind begins to process his move. He's clearly realized that I'm a tad cunning and conniving, and is trying to impress me my speaking what he thinks is a language I would respect. But there's something else. Another part of it that I can't figure out. Damn Chaff's alcohol. Maybe I shouldn't have drank it after all.

"Now Octavia, ready to tell me that secret yet?" That must be it, he's after the secret about my brother.

I regain my footing in the conversation, able to reply with my usual wit and vigour. "I'll tell you my secret just as soon as you tell me some of yours." Fantasia begins to scribble things into her notebook.

"And you know I can't do that," Seneca replies.

I smile. "Then there's your answer."

"Oh c'mon, you have to at least give me something here," he tempts.

I decide to give him something to hopefully satisfy his curiosity for a while. "You'll find out in two weeks. And I promise, it'll be a surprise that you'll like to hear." He tries to say something, but I interrupt him. "Op, Seneca, you wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, would you? Trust me, it'll be much more entertaining if you wait and let it build suspense. And I promise, it won't be anything that disrupts your games or your plan. Only... an added layer on my end."

Finnick POV

What the hell was that? Why did she walk by us like that? Vee is perceptive as hell, so I know she saw Plutarch wave.

And look where she's walking. Is she? No, she's not gonna-- what in the actual hell is going on here! She walks right up to Seneca's private booth in the back and is welcomed in.

Plutarch has his back to her, but he knows what I just saw and can tell that I'm now seething. He, however, seems much more amused about all of this than I do. He puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry Finnick, this is nothing personal just business."

"Wha-nothing personal? She just blew you off for Seneca Crane."

Plutarch chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. "And I suspect she did it on purpose."

I roll my eyes. "That makes me feel so much better."

"She's learned a lot over the years Finnick, you've got to give her credit. She's figured out how to work the system here, and so far it's been working for her," reasons Plutarch.

It's funny how his attitude changed from a few months ago. The last time in the Capitol, Plutarch told me he set Octavia up for a test. See if she went to the club after information from Crane for Snow, or took Plutarch's advice and left him alone. She failed because... of course she did. He told me that this meant we might not be able to trust her for other things. More important things, and I'm worried that blowing Plutarch off is going to make sure that she's left out of the important plans.

But no, things can't be simple in Finnick world because Plutarch is amused by all this. He and Octavia really are a different breed, I swear. Really, sometimes I swear I never get these people.

Plutarch's face is still warm with amusement, which is really starting to freak me out. "Why do you look like a proud dad who just saw his daughter beat him in chess or something?"

Plutarch smiles into his drink. "You'd be surprised how accurate that description is. But I would say she's my protégée, not my daughter."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "You people are so weird about this stuff, geez. You know what? Let's just change the subject. I'll stop talking about how I don't like my girlfriend hanging out with a homicidal child-killer, and you stop talking about Octavia turning into a mini you, got it?"

Plutarch smirks. "Deal."

Surprisingly, a new voice, one that I don't like, buts into the conversation. "Are you two alright? It sounded like you were arguing about something," says Enobaria.

I give her my best smile, the one I reserve for the Capitolian women because I dislike Enobaria just as much. "Just whether I look better in green or in blue."

Blue, it's blue. Definitely blue. It brings out the colours in my eyes.

Enobaria, who probably thought she just did something, looks displeased with my answer.

I see Octavia get out of the booth over Enobaria's shoulder, and Plutarch takes his leave, leaving me with Sharky.

Octavia finally reaches us. Thank goodness, these last few seconds have been awkward. You know she's looking really hot walking up like that. I like her hair like that. I should tell her—

"Where's Augustus? Did you leave him to fend for himself."

Aaannnddd, it's gone. Of course, she's talking game.

"I think he's doing just fine," says Enobaria pointing over the railing to the lower level. Augustus is sitting at the bar, surrounded by Sponsor's and Mentor's alike, telling an apparently hilarious story. 

Octavia blinks in surprise. "Well, that's... unexpected. In a good way." Octavia takes the opportunity to chat with the two of us about alliances.

Thankfully, a shrieking voice cuts through the crowd, breaking up the game talk. At this point, we've been talking in circles for the past fifteen minutes, but Enobaria and I haven't dared to change the subject on a nervous and slightly tipsy Octavia. "Finnick!" calls Jo.

Enobaria smirks. "That's my cue to leave. Don't want to be seen with all you young-ins."

Honestly, Enobaria shut up, you're like five years older than me.

A very drunk Jo approaches us. "Hi, Finnick. You smell nice. Kinda salty, though. I bet it's sea salt, but I couldn't really tell ya for sure because I've never seen the sea," she says, slinking one arm around me and the other around Octavia. Let's go of her full weight, causing Octavia and I to nearly stumble.

Jo turns to Octavia and boop's her on the nose. I wish I could record this. "Vee. Kinda sounds like Bee. Buzz buzz, I'm buzzed. Just a little bit though. But you know what, you look totally hot tonight. I saw you walk in, struttin' your stuff, and I thought, woo, that's my best friend!"

Octavia and I look at each other. Jo has always been one to take advantage of Capitol open bars. It seems like every year she gets more and more drunk at these things, but tonight, she's gone. I wonder if something else has happened back in 7 for her to be like this.

"C'mon Finn, let's get her home," says Octavia gently.

"Home? We can't walk to 7 all the way from here," says Jo in confusion.

"Your apartment, Jo," I reply.

Jo nods, her head dropping."Oh, right. Yea, let's go."

Octavia and I manage to get her down the stairs and near the door. Right before we're able to get the door, it's like Jo comes back to life as we pass the bar. Her arms suddenly shoot out to the bar. "Wait, wait, wait! I'm not leaving until you do a shot with me, Vee."

Octavia shakes her head. "You're too drunk."

Jo pouts. "You used to be fun at these things. Now it's all business. Blah, blah, boooring."

I can't tell what's going on in her head like I usually can. Although she's tipsy, I can tell something about Jo's words bothered her.

Octavia walks up to the bar, leaving me to support Jo. "I'll have a Five Fingers of Death, please."

Jo begins to laugh maniacally. "No way."

The Five Fingers of Death were five shots of pretty hard liquor. And they're lit on fire.

Before I can protest, the waiter whips the drinks up from out under the counter—have they just been there the whole time?—and lights them.

Octavia takes one. And then another. And then another. She takes a breath and then another. That's four shots. Several people around the bar have begun shouting "shoot!" to cheer her on.

I'm about to tell her that she doesn't have to take the last one if she doesn't want to, but then she downs the last shot glass.

The patrons at the bar give her one last cheer, and Jo hollers for her wildly.

The alcohol that Octavia's just had hasn't quite kicked in yet. "See, I'm still fun."

I roll my eyes. "C'mon. Let's get you both home before I have to end up carrying both of you."

Octavia stubbornly puts Jo's arm around her shoulder to help me carry her out of the party.

We walk over the sky-bridge and back into the main building of the complex, the Tribute Tower. Things are going surprisingly well with Octavia, the alcohol still not kicking in. Maybe she'll be able to make it back to her room before anything happens.

We load into the elevator and I press the 2 button. The elevator begins to move upwards and Octavia stumbles, losing her balance, but then regaining it after a moment.

She lets out a giggle but then stops. She giggles again, but this time doesn't stop. Jo suddenly starts to snicker, and the next thing I know, I'm stuck in an elevator with two drunk girls.

As always, thanks to ParadoxicalMoose for being my Beta Reader!

Next chapter we'll see the week and a bit of training as well as some more fluffy stuff at the beginning of the chapter (taking off right where we leave off here) to lighten things up since it's been getting darker lately and then will get dark again once the games start. Let me know what you think!

Thank you all for the all comments recently! I love reading all of them, especially your reactions to certain parts! Makes my day, so thank you all!

And now onto the most important thing...

Chapterly Memes:

Cato and Clove thinking their Mentors and Escort are all secretly going to a freaky wild Capitol party :

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Finnick (to Enobaria): You know what... I'm going to say it. I don't care that you broke your elbow.

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