Welcome to Wade in the Water! If you've read Stars then you know who the victor is if not SPOILERS!

I am currently accepting tributes and can't wait to see what I get! A few tips, be original, more details the better, and a review/follow never hurts ;)

enjoy! I'll be back soon with part 2 of the intro!


Maximus Treiglad - District Three Mentor

Finnick uses his trident to parry the strike of the girl from District One and spins the blades directly into her chest. She dies seconds later.

"Ladies and gentlemen may I present the victor of the 65th Hunger Games, Finnick Odair!"

Mags jumps up from her seat and starts clapping excitedly, it's more movement than I've ever seen from her. She did it.

"That makes what, eight victors for District Four?" Aspen comes up behind me and puts on arm on my shoulder. "They're catching up." Cashmere, the girl who won last year, joins our little pod.

"Yeah right. Just because Finnick got this one doesn't mean District Four is our caliber. We have eleven victors." She flips her luxurious blonde locks over her shoulder.

"Just like District Two." I say with a smirk.

"Fuck you Treiglad." She saunters off.

"Everyone wants to, not everyone can." I say back at her. Aspen and I laugh. "She's a piece of work, don't you think?" I ask him.

"She's a primadonna from District One who volunteered because her brother won the year before her. She's literally the dumbest and most entitled person I've ever met. How she won baffles me." We go over and flip the switches off on our computers. Both our tributes made it to the final 8 so we were required to stay until the finale. I can't say I'm shocked that Finnick won, but it sucks. I know what's waiting for him when he gets back.

"You think either of us will ever get a victor?" Aspen questions me. "It's been a rough few years for everyone. Four career victors in a row, not exactly looking good."

"Each year brings on new tributes. We just have to see what the reaping brings us. Couldn't be worse than a few years ago we both our tributes died in the bloodbath. That was just embarrassing." We share an uncomfortable chuckle.

"That's why I stopped learning their names." He runs a hand through his hair and Mags comes over to us slowly. Her old bones only move so quickly.

"Boys, we're getting a drink if you'd like to join us." Mags says barely coherent. She suffered a stroke a few years back and has been losing control over her speech ever since. Though she hasn't lost a single drop of vigor. Aspen looks at me and shrugs.

"Why not." Within ten minutes there are all 8 victors, one for each tribute in the final 8, sitting around a circular mahogany chamber. Aside from Mags, Cashmere, Aspen and myself we also have Wattson from District Five, Lyme from District Two, Brutus also from Two, and Dane from Six.

"That was quite a show Mags. Very impressed with that youngster." Lyme says sipping on a stout brew. "Youngest victor ever am I right?"

"Yes. He beat my record of 15." Wattson says holding an electric blue cup or something. "I must admit, I'm impressed as well. That kid was tricky."

"He wasn't even the best fighter." Cashmere says and throws back another shot of vodka. "My girl should've been able to take him." She rolls her eyes.

"But she didn't, so get over it." Aspen barks at her. Cashmere won last year and hasn't really meshed well with everyone. Her brother is nice enough, very polite and well versed in social interaction. But she's a queenbee, and among a crowd of victors queenbees don't do well.

"You should be proud that she did as well as she did. She fought bravely and her sacrifice will not be in vain." Brutus bellows, his voice is low and finalizing. Out of every living victor I think that he buys into the bullshit and propaganda the most. However, I respect him. He's never been anything shy of just and fair.

"Whatever." Cashmere crosses her arms and legs and glares at the center of the table. She'll learn quick enough that she's not infallible. For now though, she can think what she wants.

"I'm impressed with this one." Dane points at Mags. "She has an unprecedented four victors under her belt, more than Daniel, Jeremiah, or Andromeda, and won her games without any help. That's an impressive resume Mags. This night might belong to Finnick, but I know you're the real star." Mags blushes and wrings her hand.

"I just tailor my strategy to each individual tribute. They're all different and have to be treated as such." Mags, always dropping her wisdom on us. When she dies I hope it's quick and painless, she deserves as much for all the good she's done in the world. Saving four people, even over the span of 50 years, is impressive. Lyme stands up and lifts her glass for a toast.

"To Finnick Odair, victory of the 65th Hunger Games, our newest mentor and our future friend." We all rise and clink our glasses together. I toss back my glass of battery acid in honor of the poor kid. He's so damn handsome, so damn doomed.

But that's not my problem.


Eleven months later.


Ariash Evus - Head Gamemaker for the 66th Hunger Games

I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear and stare directly into Snow's eyes. He thinks he can intimidate me, but he's dead wrong. "Hello Mr. President. To what do I owe the pleasure?" My voice is the only sound in the room, all my interns and employees are silent, and if they are still typing they've found a way to do it without making noise.

"Just here to make sure everything's running smoothly, Ariash. I trust that you understand the extreme importance of your job." His voice lurks with undertones of power and unspoken threats. The previous two predecessors both 'committed suicide' after their games ended. It hasn't been a very steady job the past decade.

"Sir, I don't have a worry in the world. Everything is running smoothly to my standards." I try to sound efficient and sharp. In a man's world I have to play their games, which means coming off as a bitch. It's not a hard sell.

"That's what worries me." I tilt my head at him.

"Excuse me, sir." I place great emphasis on sir, but he shows no change in statute or comfortability.

"Your standards. I need you to aim higher than your standards. Try to impress me, not the common folk who will cheer every time a tributes kills another. I trust you're familiar with the whispers." He means the talk of rebellion in the districts. Every few weeks we hear a new rumor of a different sector of a different district that is getting a little rowdier.

"Sir, I'm very well versed in everything that's going on in this country. I didn't take this position like a fool." In fact, I'm the first person to actively seek the job in a few decades. Ever since Zion Tzorin died of a drug overdose people have been appointed to the position.

"I'm not saying you're a fool. I'm saying that you might be overestimating your own abilities." I bite the inside of my cheeks to avoid making a visible facial expression. I have to be ruthless, stoic, and unreadable. Just like Snow.

"Never sir." I say coolly. I can play this game too Snow.

"Everyone out." Snow says slightly louder than our conversation has been. Like a stampede everyone flees the room to the nearest exits until it's just the two of us. "I have complete confidence in you Evus. If I didn't you would already be dead and I would have someone controllable in your place."

"What do you want -" He interrupts me.

"It's not about what I want, it's about what I don't want. I don't want to kill you. I don't want to worry about you rebelling against me. I have enough on my plate without an ungrateful, cocky, bold woman giving me attitude. I want you to be able to think for yourself, without forcing me to kill you. Do you think you can do that? Ariash." He speaks quickly and sharply, each word stabbing me with fear. I flinch when he says my name.

"Sir, I-"

"It's not about you. It's about Panem." He bellows. "I've build the greatest country the world has ever known. I won't have some ignorant woman help tear it down by letting my greatest weapon against the people be turned into something it's not. This is their sacrifice to us. I grow tired of killing people who don't understand that." We stand in silence and I take a step back, relinquishing power to him.

"You can do this Ariash. I know you can, just do it the right way."

"Yes sir." Is all I manage to say. I avert my gaze to the ground.

"Now, down to business." I lift my head up and see his body language to be friendlier, more open. I step forward to seem his equal.

"Of course." I clear my throat and try to sound professional, but my tone waivers. "The mutts are all set for the arena, we've already started filling all the water basins with the appropriate salinity, and the forcefield is nearing completion. Everything will be done before the reapings begin."

"Perfect." Snow pats me on the shoulder, seemingly proud of my work. "This is impressive Evus. I look forward to seeing this mutt in action." He spins a hologram of my pride and joy around his hand.

"Me either sir. I think it'll make for quite the show. No one has ever done anything quite like this yet." I zoom in on the beasts great maw and admire the rows upon rows of jagged teeth. My baby will be able to rip flesh from bone with ease should a tribute become too, uninteresting.

"What do you call it? It's not exactly truly organic is it?" He grabs a datapad and starts flipping through all the materials used to make it as well as statistics on it's durability and strength.

"We haven't named it yet. But you're correct sir, I'm sure you can notice-" I flip to a specific page of my report. "it's skin is stone."

"Excellent, I can't wait. I expect a tribute list soon."

"Yes sir." Snow walks away from me unexpectedly without saying good bye. Same show, different day with that guy. Maybe sooner or later I'll actually be able to one up him.

Not likely though.

I have work to do.


have a good one :D