Haymitch Abernathy (MLM)

The tribute center elevator rumbles quietly in the background as it climbs the tower of training halls, observation centers, and living quarters. You wring your hands as the elevator continues to rise, the numbers changing from 9 to 10, 10 to 11, and finally, 11 to 12. The topmost floor of the training center, home formerly to the District 12 tributes, and now, only to their mentor and escort. The two children had been taken to the games, as had the two tributes from 9. You had watched them, the boy and girl you had mentored, as they were transported to a large plane. Their eyes had locked on yours for a second, and then nothing. You knew what was going to happen. Everyone knew. It was the same for Haymitch's children, the same for any child from the first five districts. They would die, you would watch, and the Capitol would laugh. As the elevator doors open and you step into the expansive penthouse, the sound of a screen in the next room reaches your ears: Caesar Flickerman's commentary blaring over the triumphant Capitol music. You scan the rooms, heading toward the sound, where you see Haymitch, sprawled on the large couch, a whiskey in his hand, watching the games. The screen lights up briefly with one of your tributes, the girl, and he sighs softly.