Well... hi? I'm back... That is if you still remember who I am :/

(Warning: Long AN and apology coming.)

I am really, really sorry for the long break, and I am even more sorry to tell you that I haven't finished the entire story yet. I have a clear direction, but writing it out is harder than I have expected. It is possible that the update stops again after this chapter. I originally planned for this to be an author note about the extended break... (I think I've said it would be a month or a bit longer the last time. I am so sorry for that.) But then I would feel so guilty about not giving you guys something. So I didn't post the AN and instead waited until I have a new chapter done and apologize to you. Forgive me please? (Seriously, the show was over half a year ago and I still haven't updated, I hate myself for this.)

I have this excuse for being so late to update. It's called the "college"... But my confession is that I haven't touched this story even when I had spare time on my hand, mainly because I do not know how I want to organize and continue the story. So, for the millionth time, I am so so sorry :(

Finally, as usual, thank you all for reading, reviewing, following and favoriting the Game Changer Job. Rereading your reviews was what got me to finally continue this story, so thank you all! Special shout out to Alyssa, Brandon Vortex for leaving your reviews in multiple chapters. (I hope I haven't left out anyone. If I have, please tell me in the reviews.)

P.S. I realize I have never made any disclaimers in my story, but unfortunately that doesn't mean I own anything from either the books or the show.

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Chapter 11: The Plan A

The crowd cheered for Katniss Everdeen and her innocent, sweet, easy-going personality. To say the team was shocked was, well, the understatement of the century.

Katniss Everdeen is the most unpredictable human being ever existed.

Nate had said that before and would say it however many times needed.

They had sincerely believed that Katniss would be branded as the anti-social girl after they witness her god-awful practice session with Haymitch. But no, she did great on stage. Not just great, no, she outshone all of the other tributes.

Except Peeta and his charm, maybe, but the spotlight was back on the girl-on-fire the moment he proclaimed his love for her. Then Katniss Everdeen went from the cute little giggling girl to the most desirable woman in Panem.

The team smiled, knowing they have the sponsors secured.

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When Peeta saw Katniss on the roof, the first thing he noticed was her hair. It was soaked. At first he thought she was just out from a shower, but it was three in the morning so it seemed odd. Then he noticed her slightly heavy breath and came to a realization that she had just worked out. How and why he had not the damnedest clue, but he wouldn't dwell because right now he wanted to talk, and "hey have you been working out?" was simply the lamest conversation-starter ever, at least for the eve of the Hunger Games. His Hunger Games. Maybe he would ask her about that later.

So when she sat down and they started to talk they talked about the Games Party, the dancing, happy people, the Games. And how he would hate to die as one of the Capitol's pawn. In the end, Katniss told him to stay alive. Peeta almost snorted to himself. Yeah, right, stay alive, until he was sure Katniss would be safe and could then find some ways to get himself killed so that she would win. That was the plan.

Katniss left. And Peeta realized he forgot to ask her about her wet hair.

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Three hours ago.

Katniss and Eliot met again after the replay of the interview earlier. It was her third, and no doubt the last, self-defense lesson. The games were on the next day.

They didn't talk much. The girl hit harder than usual and twice as reckless, and Eliot didn't have the heart to correct her. Katniss landed a fist on him, then a kick, then a solid hook that Eliot was proud of, then another kick… He didn't comment on her slightly off posture, he didn't reprimand her for not letting her enemy make a move first. He just blocked off the attacks and ducked when needed to. He wouldn't deny he was more than pleased when the girl managed to land a hard kick on his thigh and stumble his footing a bit. Even a professionally trained mercenary could not accomplish that easily. He supposed the urge to survive was the reason to her admirable learning speed. He could relate to that.

Eliot left when Hardison told him through the comm that Peeta was coming up on the roof.

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Ten hours later. Two hours since the 74th Hunger Games began.

The little boy from District 9 woke up in a strange room. He blinked. And he blinked again. Is this heaven? He had read about heaven but it was never mentioned that there were beds of white sheet and first-aid kit and IV units in that supposedly fictional place (that's what his mom believed anyway). If anything, the place looked like a hospital, a moving one, apparently. He could feel it, like he could feel the movement when he was sleeping on that train that brought him to this grandest city he had ever seen.

He checked out the place. He was right to assume its being a hospital, at least served a similar purpose if not that. There are over twenty beds, twenty-two, to be exact, now that he had counted, in this huge room that was about four times the size of his family's little cabin. Right now, including the one he was on, eleven beds was occupied, exactly half. They were all asleep, that or in coma, he wasn't sure. It was a hospital after all.

Wait! Why was he here in the first place? He remembered… he remembered…

May the odds be EVER in your favor…
Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin…
60, 59, 58… the odds…
29,28,27… in my favor…
3, 2, 1…
The girl… the pretty one…
The one they say "on fire"… she wants the orange backpack too…
Can't let her… ouch…
Pain, pain and cold, wet liquid down his back…

He thought blood was warm.

The world blacked out.

"Easy kid," a voice coming from the door behind him caused him to jump. He turned too quickly that he felt dizzy. It might not even be his movement. His mind was all cloudy, like he just woke up and just for a second forgot who he was and whether it was a dream he was in or just woke up from.

He turned and saw a man. A young man in his twenties, with brown skin and short hair and a comforting smile. He was wearing strange clothes. It was not like the outfits of Capitol people, and definitely not like the simple, single-colored rough clothes and pants from his home either. It was a… it was a "t-shirt"… and "jeans"… He had learned about those clothes once, in his history lesson. The teacher said people used to wear them over a hundred years ago… But his mom had commented absent-mindedly about how she thought people from outside Panem might still be wearing those things. She then clasped a hand over her mouth and told him to forget what she said, as if talking about places outside was a horrible, horrible thing to do. Of course, any possibility for him to forget that conversation disappeared once his mom said that.

He wondered how he could remember a stupid history lesson when he couldn't get himself to think straight. But the man was smiling genuinely, something the young boy hadn't seen in while, and he wanted to trust the man.

"Where am I, sir?" The thirteen-year-old managed. He surprised himself by not stuttering.
"Don't worry kid, you're safe," the man answered.

Safe? Him? He wanted to laugh, laugh or cry, he wasn't sure, maybe both. He was a lot of things after his name was drawn: a tribute, the boy from District 9, a weakling… Pick one of those and it would be an oxymoron with "safe".

"I was stabbed, in the back," the boy whispered. "I felt it, when I was fighting over a pack with the girl… District Twelve… Then someone stabbed me. I should be dead."

"You are."

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Two days ago.

Eliot's words kept echoing in Nate's head.

You do realize that by choosing the Everdeen girl we'll need to let the other kids die right in front of our eyes, right?

Yes… Yes I do… But there is no other way… no way…

We can't save everyone. That was what he answered back then. They couldn't save everyone. No way they could. No way in a million years. All they could do is to win the damn games for the girl, maybe for the boy too, if the new plan actually would work. Except…

Except they were thieves.

And thieves don't win a game. They steal it.

Nate's lips twisted upwards, just a little bit. He would laugh out loud if he could, but the last thing he needed was to get too crazy in the middle of a crazy job. Who cares anyway? He was Nathan Ford, and he had a plan. And no one could stop Nathan Ford when he had a plan.

"Alright guys, let's go steal some Hunger Games."

He remembered himself saying it, after the first plan was set. That was his Plan G, where he always started with. But this one in his mind? It was his Plan A. The perfect plan. Perfect outcome. The one which was impossible to carried out.

If all those years had taught Nate one thing about "impossible", it was that there was no such thing.

Yes. Nate Ford and his team would steal the Hunger Games. They would steal the Games together with the tributes. For once in seventy-four years. No one would die.

No one.

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I should be dead. The child had said. He looked frightened.

Under this circumstance Hardison could think of a lot to say, to comfort the boy who was the first to wake up among the eleven. Don't worry, you are not, or We've faked your death in the games so that you won't be actually dead was probably a good place to start.

"You are."

Hardison said these two words before he could think and sighed at his own stupidity. Dammit Hardison, of all the dumb things to say. The boy blinked.
"No offense, but this hardly look like heaven, or hell, for that matter," he said, a bit too coldly. Hardison supposed being dragged into a fight-to-the-death "game" could do that to a thirteen-year-old, but it was creepy. The boy was small in size. His eyes were of bright blue color. He was a cute kid, if too young to be handsome. And from the way he spoke when he just woke up (sir, he said, frankly Hardison was surprised.) he could tell the boy was raised right too. Yet there he was, talking about hell like he didn't give a damn. He sighed again.

"What I meant was," he said. "To the world, you are dead. You are now on the Capitol's hovercraft for the 'dead bodies'."

"Then why ain't I dead?" the boy looked more awake now, and more organized.

Hardison smirked. Why indeed.

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Two days ago.

This was an odd bunch of crew. Quinn had already decided when he first met the infamous hitter. Eliot Spencer. Basically anyone who would work with, instead of hire, Eliot Spencer was odd. Once he met the team, he realized Eliot Spencer might be the most normal of them all.

The leader of the gang was Nathan Ford. Ford, as in Jimmy Ford's son. He could tell both father and son were damn good con artists. Then there was this "Sophie", as they called her, though he doubted that was her real name, who could actually play the part of a Capitoller so flawlessly. And a hacker who could hack in the Capitol government. That was… breathtaking. Yeah, he wouldn't want to downplay the hacker's genius level by saying it was cool. Finally, there was Parker. The Parker. Possibly the greatest thief of all time. People had told him she was weird. Now he knew first hand.

He had heard of all those names. Well, maybe not Sophie Devereaux, but Charlotte Prentice definitely rang a bell.

The team wasn't aware of how familiar Quinn was with the outside world, mainly because they assumed he was from Panem. He had considered telling them, of who he was, why he was here in the first place, and most of all, whohe worked for.

Well, he would tell them, sooner rather than later, only because he was convinced that Nate Ford would find out the truth eventually. If he waited until they found out he might not have a chance to explain himself, and he would lose his ticket out of here.

Right now he was sitting on the couch looking at Hardison pressing number pattern on his computer in the presidential suite of the Panem Grand Hotel (that's the lamest name one could come up with for a hotel like this, he thought).

Tell them now, said a voice in his head. Tell them now before it's too late.

Then another voice, Nate Ford's voice, came from both behind him , right out of the man's own room, and the earbud in his right ear. Something about a new plan, again, and Sophie answered something like hating him saying that. He wasn't listening. Tell them now, not later, not sooner, NOW, NOW!…

In his own mind Quinn was composing the best speech for his confession. Until he heard what the new plan of Ford's exactly was.

"They all live."

Well, maybe later.

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So here is the new chapter. Reviews, both positive and negative, are more than welcomed. (I actually wouldn't mind rude languages in your reviews if you would tell me the reason, not that I've ever received any. You guys are too nice to me :P)

Oh and if you remember, the Plan G is a reference to the episode The Gold Job. That episode, although awesome, actually had some major mistakes regarding the Chinese languages (I am a Hong Konger, so I guess I can say I am quite familiar with basic facts about common Chinese dialects) that I can't resist not pointing out, but I don't want the author note of this chapter become too long that the story itself becomes the minor, so maybe I would mention about that later...

See you till next time. It won't be as long as the last time. I hope I can say I promise but "promise" was too big of a word for someone like me :(