The Second Quarter Quell

Haymitch Abernathy is an eighteen year old tribute from District 12 during the 2nd Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games. Alongside him are three other tributes, one of them posing more of a threat than an other enemy he might face in the arena. Who is this tribute? Find out now! (((Kree Stark belongs to me. Please do not steal her.)))


2. In The Capital

I wish to thank 11Nitro11 :) and Raven711 for their commitment to my work and their great feedback! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING AND EPICAL ;)


Before the train came to a stop, the four tributes were approached by their Reaper once more.

"Hello children," he said in a grand falsetto, "my name is Augustus and I'll be in charge of overseeing your presentations and schedules."

"How much they paying you to make us look pretty for our slaughter?"

"Kree," Maysilee pulled on her arm once more, "don't be so rude."

"No, it's quite all right," Augustus gave a sigh, "I expected as much from you, Ms. Stark. That little stunt you pulled at the Reaping didn't go unnoticed by the president. I'd be more careful if I were you."

"You think I give a damn about what the president does to me," the raven haired girl glared out the window at the cheering crowd, which had come to greet them, "I'm going to die anyways. Might as well piss someone off before I go."

Haymitch didn't bother to hold back his laughter, and soon he was clutching his sides.

Kree raised a single eyebrow, "It wasn't that funny."


"Okay," Augustus herded the group away from the smiling crowd and towards the elevator, "tonight you will have your first interview with Caesar Flickerman. So we have to go and meet with your stylist, Syrene. She is the best of the best, I tell you! The most talented stylist I've met."

"Oh joy," Kree shrugged, "I'm starting to love it here already. I wonder how long it will be before my brain melts into nothing and all I care about is how much food I can eat and what I should wear. I'd fit right in around here!"

Maysilee didn't even bother to try and shut her friend up as the elevator doors opened to reveal a tall woman with the longest hair any of them had ever seen. She was African American with dark brown eyes and large lips. Her black hair was braided all the way down to her heels, causing Haymitch to wonder if it was her natural hair or extensions. She wore a form fitting red dress with yellow and orange flowers decorating it.

She gave them a sympathetic smile and opened her arms wide, "Hello everyone. My name is Syrene. I will be your stylist throughout the Games."

Suddenly, a small boy peered from around her dress. Like her, he was dark skinned and had black hair and brown eyes. He looked to be about ten or eleven years old.

"Oh," Syrene placed a gentle hand on the child's shoulder, "and this is my son, Cinna. He's training to be a stylist as well. In fact," the mother and son shared a gaze, "I think his designs are going to help shape the future."

Cinna gave his mom a smile and clutched the sketchbook in his hand tighter. Kree's gaze softened, but she quickly rolled her eyes when she noticed Haymitch staring at her.

"So," Augustus smiled, shaking hands with Syrene, "I'll leave them to you. They're on with Caesar in two hours! So, chop chop! Let's wow the crowd!"

Syrene and her two assistants (twins with electric blonde hair named Jacob and Judy) led the tributes into a large white room. On four mannequins were the most gorgeous outfits they had ever seen. Judy helped Maysilee and Kree try on their dresses while Jacob struggled to adjust Garreth's suit. Haymitch stood quietly as Syrene looked him over and made a few last minute adjustments. The boys' outfits were a coal black (to represent the mining of District 12) and created thick smoke whenever they moved. He left the changing room and helped a still struggling Garreth straighten his tie. The two boys looked up when they heard the girls join them. Neither of them could say a word. The dresses were low cut and halter top, made of fine honey orange satin with VERY realistic flames  that appeared when the dress moved.

"Of course," Syrene appeared next to them, "it's not really fire. Just a little sewing trick I discovered a while back."

"Could you have used real fire," Cinna asked from where he sat drawing, "I mean, it's not impossible is it?"

"Oh Cinna," Syrene kissed the top of her son's head, "I wouldn't dare play with fire. It's too dangerous. Why, if anything were to happen to the tributes because of my designs...well..."

"They're on in five minutes," Augustus had returned, "oh my word! Oh, my dear sweet Jesus! They look fantabulous! Yet ANOTHER set of masterpieces, Syrene, I swear to God."

"It's not polite to swear to God," Kree smirked, "then again, you seem to think you are one-"

"Kree," Maysilee snapped, startling them all, "that's enough."

The taller girl merely rolled her eyes as Judy threw her hair up into a bun and held it in place with a bright orange lily shaped clip. Maysilee's hair was kept down, but her braid was re-done to ensure no flyaways exposed themselves.

Haymitch kept blinking when Jacob tried to apply mascara until finally the assistant gave up and moved onto Garreth. Haymitch then noticed that Syrene had given the one-eyed boy a beautiful eyepatch made of black leather with a glittering ruby set in the center.

The redhead noticed him staring and gave a sarcastic smile, "I feel like a pirate."

Haymitch chuckled and unsheathed an imaginary sword, "Yar, ye scurvy pup! Avast!"

Kree watched as the two boys chased one another, a thick path of smoke in their wake. Before too long, they found a barrel of canes and each grabbed one. Their "sword fight" became more elaborate as they tried to "stab" one another. Kree then noticed that Haymitch was very good at fighting. The thought chilled her down to the core. How terrifying would he be in the Arena?!

"Okay, you worthless sea rats," Syrene said in a heavy voice, "sheath your weapons and prepare to walk the plank! The sharks of the capital do not like to be kept waiting."

This caused everyone in the room to laugh as they prepared themselves for their interviews.

"Okay," Syrene began to gently pull on them, "Garreth, you're up first. Then Maysilee, followed by Haymitch. Kree, you go last."

"Please," they heard the voice of Caesar Flickerman from onstage, "help me in welcoming Garreth McCoy from District 12!"


Haymitch didn't smile throughout his entire interview. Caesar, a boy his age with ebony hair and the fakest smile he had EVER seen, asked him one question after another about how he felt about being Reaped and how much he missed his family at home.

"Haymitch," Caesar leaned in close, his grin becoming morbid, "what do you think about the Games having twice as many tributes?"

The blonde sat back and thought for a moment before answering, "I don't see how different they can be...they're going to be just as stupid."

A glint of hatred passed across the host's eyes as he sat back up, "Haymitch Abernathy, everyone! Isn't he just a killer?"

"Yeah," Haymitch arose to his feet, "I am. So you had better watch your back, Flickerman. Wouldn't want that nice suit of yours to get stained."

The host watched his guest leave the stage before giving a nervous chuckle, "And now for our last interviewee: Kree Stark, ladies and gentlemen!"

the crowd literally arose to its feet and cheered. Kree wondered if it was because of her dress or the fact that she was the last interview. She gave Caesar a cruel smile and crushed his hand when he tried to shake hers.

"Quite a grip you've got," he chuckled, "quite a grip indeed."

"Oh yes, you should see me when I have my hands around a throat," she gave him the most sadistic smile he had ever seen, "it's a sight to die for."

"So, you're a fighter," Caesar smiled, ignoring her threat, "do you think you can win this years Games?"

"No," Kree shook her head and smirked, "like I told my fellow tributes; I am mentorless and from District 12. I am, in a word, screwed!"

"Now, at your Reaping, you made quite a little scene. Let's take a look."

The screen behind them flicked on to replay the District 12 Reaping.

"The odds...are never in your favor."

"Tell us," Caesar smirked, "what was going on in that pretty little head of yours? I mean, you must have known it would upset the President."

Kree gave a loud scoff, "President Snow? He likes putting others through torture. but you know what? I'd love to see him get thrown into the Games! See how powerful he is then! I mean, why must it just be the Districts who suffer? Is the capital no longer a part of Panem? What makes you fat, arrogant bastards so much better then the rest of us," Caesar gripped the arms of his chair as Kree arose and faced the crowds, "is it just because we don't have as much money as some of you do? Or the fact that we don't look like clowns? Or, maybe, it's because we don't view the Games like you do? I bet that's it. Someone doesn't think, live, or look like you do, so you create the Games to justify murder! I'd love to see some people from the capital put into the Games. At least THEN it will be righteous murder!"

"Okay," Caesar gave an awkward laugh, "that's all the time we have tonight. Thanks for watching and Happy Hunger Games!"


"What the hell was that," Maysilee screamed as Kree rejoined the group, "what were you thinking?"

"I was just speaking my mind," Kree shrugged, casting her gaze towards the floor, "then again, I guess even doing that will get you killed. Aren't you guys sick and tired of Snow treating everyone like his toys?"

"sure we are," Garreth nodded, "but we can't do anything about it."

"What if we convinced the others to not fight," Haymitch offered, pulling off his tie, "stop the Games entirely."

"I heard they tried that once," Kree sighed, "the third Hunger Games. Nobody would fight, so the Gamemaker sent a bunch of animals to wipe them out until only one was left standing. Then, even he was willing to accept Snow's ways."

Enraged, Haymitch threw his tie into a nearby trash can and stormed out of the room. He thought back to what Kree had said during her interview.

Why must it just be the Districts who suffer?

Haymitch stopped to stare out a nearby window. Why DID Snow decide to make the Districts be the only ones to suffer? Surely, during the first rebellion, there were people in the capital who opposed his ways. Giving a sigh, he placed his hands on the windowsill and let his eyes take in the beauty of the sunset before him.

"Hey," he didn't need to turn to know Kree stood beside him, "you okay?"

"You're right," she gave him a confused look, "the odds are never in our favor."

Kree's eyes became sad as she took another step closer to her fellow tribute. He looked at her in shock when she laid her hand on top of his and rested her head on his shoulder. When she didn't return his gaze, he relaxed and looked outside once more.


"Today is all about training," Augustus explained as the four tributes were led through the shining chrome halls, "find a weapon that is suited for you and practice with it. Make sure you are exceptional with at least one before trying another. You will be watched today by the Gamemaker, Quinn Fletcher. He will try to find out what suits each of you best and put that weapon inside the Arena. that way, the Games become more interesting."

"Because that's what this is all about," Kree smirked, "right?"

Augustus ignored her and opened the door, standing aside to allow them to walk in, "Have a good day. Oh and, try to make some allies. I know you'll all kill each other in the long run, but it may help you to survive."

And with that, he was gone.

"Awfully chipper," Haymitch gave Kree a smile, "isn't he?"

"Hey," the group turned to see a large boy in his late teens approach them, "you're Kree Stark, right?"

Kree raised an eyebrow, "What of it?"

The boy's chocolate eyes shined as he gave a mock bow, "Name's Billy Winchester, District 3."

"Technology District," Kree nodded, "is that supposed to impress me?"

Billy straightened up and gave his long blonde hair a flick over his shoulder, "Nah. Just wanted to let you know that I support what you said last night. It isn't right that we're the only ones who suffer while these gluttons sit on their asses and laugh whenever blood is spilled. So, I'm sorry it's come down to this, but I'll save you for last in the Arena."

Kree shared a small smile with the boy and shook his hand, "Same here."

As Billy walked away, Haymitch gave her a perplexed look.

She scowled, "All right guys, let's get to work."

For the next three hours, Haymitch tried multiple weapons. His aim with a bow was terrible, he could barely lift a warhammer, and swords were too long and awkward. The only thing he found comfortable was a combat knife. He liked how small it was and how agile it allowed him to be. Once he was finished, he began to help Garreth, who proved to have a knack for ax wielding. Maysilee was in the far corner with a girl from District 10 practicing using a blowgun. Kree, on the other hand, sparred with a District 1 girl. The blonde Career swung a small battle ax at her opponent, who blocked every blow with a metal baseball bat. Haymitch watched in fascination. true, back in District 12, Kree was known for playing baseball with the other teens on weekends; however, he never expected the capital to give a bat as a weapon! Kree might have a shot if she found an opening; she was famous for her home run hits and throwing arm.

Suddenly, Kree ducked beneath a swing from the Career and hit her in her unexposed side with the bat. There was a dull THUMP as metal collided with skin, followed by a very clear CRACK! The Career was down on the floor screaming in pain by the time the medics arrived. Luckily, it was a simple fracture that they could fix that night, making her ready for the Games the following week.

As the medics carried her away, she glared at Kree, who stood looking rather proud of herself.

"I'm coming for you first, bitch," she snarled and pointed, "your head is MINE!"

"Get in line, sister," the raven haired tribute chuckled, "I'm pretty sure Snow's got first dibs."

Haymitch tried to hide his smile as the tributes returned to their training.

"You just signed a death warrant," a District 1 boy snarled, "Shimmer isn't one for losing."

"My death warrant was signed the moment my name was drawn," Kree explained, "I'm not too worried."

"You should be! If not for yourself," Haymitch felt the Career's gaze fall upon him, "then for your boyfriend over there."

Kree's face became a deep red, "He's not my boyfriend. And you'd better watch it! Nobody kills him, but me! If I can't kill him, then no one can!"

Haymitch glanced at her in surprise. He then wondered why. After all, the whole point of the Games was to kill those you've known for years and those you've known for days.

"Damn," he said to himself, "this is stupid."

"Haymitch," he turned to see Garreth readjusting his eyepatch (which he decided to keep), "will you help me use a knife?"

After a moment's hesitation, Haymitch smiled, "Sure thing, kiddo."

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