In an abandoned street on the outskirts of the Capitol sits an unassuming building – well, unassuming by Capitol standards. Painted top to bottom in eye-wateringly bright yellow and big enough to house several hundred people, yes, but with nothing to differentiate it from the thousands of other houses like this. Perfect for a secret meeting.

The guests trickle in slowly, dressed in equally unassuming clothing, under strict instruction not to draw any attention to themselves. From whom they don't know, having been summoned here by anonymous invitation only. Former Gamemaker Prometheus Gold looks around furtively before entering, scanning the room for anybody he recognises. The crowd seems to consist mainly of restless Gamemakers and people who had served under President Snow's government - the last few Capitol loyalists. Recognising one of his former colleagues, Prometheus weaves his way through the crowd to greet them.

"Zirconia!" he calls.

She waves back immediately. "Prometheus! Do you know what this is about?" she inquires.

He shakes his head ruefully. "I was hoping you could tell me," he sighs, casting his gaze around the room. Roughly thirty people are assembled in the large reception room, looking equally baffled, from the looks of it trying to guess who their elusive host is. Finally, a door swings open and the sound of someone clearing their throat theatrically can be heard clearly above the general murmur of dissent. A shrill voice rings out across the room.

"Thank you all for coming." The voice, and the bedraggled figure standing in the doorway, belongs to a once-distinguished Capitol woman. Her matted hair has clearly seen better days, but Aurelia Chalice is still recognisable by her pristinely painted fingernails and tattoos in prominent position on her face. She had served as President Snow's second-in-command, but fled the Capitol during the rebellion – thought to be dead. Now, very much alive, she makes her way towards the centre of the room and steps onto a raised platform illuminated by a single spotlight. She looks tired and pale for lack of makeup, and carries a gun at her waist, two things she would never be seen to do before the rebellion.

"You may be wondering why I have invited you all here," she continues. "The rebels have taken control of the Capitol and I'm sure by now you know President Snow is dead. But I am here to tell you that hope is not lost. There are still people willing to fight for our cause. Though we are few and scattered, we can rebuild!"

A cheer rises from the crowd, but their host silences them with a wave of her hand. "You have been called here to help reinstate one of the most time-honoured traditions in Panem, the Hunger Games."

"How?" a handful of people pipe up. "It would be a direct violation of the laws of - "

"Silence!" Aurelia demands, raising her voice for the first time in years. "Yes, we would be breaking the law, but is that not the point? To show those – those uncivilised anarchists we will not be defeated? We must be careful, and we must be clever, but what better way to show them that the fight is not yet won? Now I have considered this at great length, and obviously the public selection of tributes is far too risky a process. Now this is all I ask of you: I want you to bring me the tributes. I want eyes and ears in every district, and I want you to select tributes that seem promising. And of course," she added with a grin, "A few weaklings to add entertainment value."

At this prospect, several people in the audience begin to smile, particularly the Gamemakers, sensing blood. Aurelia produces a thick stack of papers from her jacket pocket and begins distributing them among the crowd. "This," she explains, "Is all the information I will require. I want you to study them. Observe them. Then fill in this form." As she works her way around the room, making her way over Prometheus, he can only stare dumbfounded at the formidable woman. A good head taller than him, with piercing black eyes and deep red hair greying at the roots, her face takes on a predatory expression as she approaches him. He takes one of the papers, avoiding meeting her gaze, and reads:

Tribute submission form:

Your name, or alias you wish to be known by:

Name of selected tribute:

District:

Gender:

Age:

Appearance:

Personality:

Family background:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Likes/Hobbies:

Dislikes/Fears:

Friends:

How you would like to see them die:

Suggestions for the arena (optional):

Confused, Prometheus looks up, but Aurelia has already returned to the platform and is addressing the crowd again. "Now, I believe this should be self explanatory. But it is of the utmost importance that these papers do not fall into the wrong hands. Now, during the first rebellion, the government established a… private messaging system that would allow us to communicate in secret. Away from prying eyes and the like. This is how we will discuss any matters at all concerning the 76th Hunger Games. Applications should be sent straight to me via this private messaging system, with '76' somewhere in the subject line. Before you all leave, there is one more item on the agenda. I do believe an introduction is in order." She gestures towards none other than Prometheus Gold and beckons for him to join her. "Some of you may remember Prometheus Gold, former Head Gamemaker. Before he was dismissed for inhumane conduct and replaced by that sentimental fool Seneca Crane, Gold was responsible for some of the most violent and bloody deaths in the history of the Hunger Games. It is our pleasure to have him leading our fine team of Gamemakers once more. I have requested you suggest how you would like to see your chosen tribute die, and I am sure our Gamemakers will take these suggestions into account. As with your suggestions for the Arena. It is up to you the number of tributes you choose to submit…"

Prometheus is no longer listening, he is simply standing, rooted to the spot. This is why he was invited? To take up his former position, slaughtering young children for the entertainment of others? The job that had condemned him to a lifetime of infamy?

He is brought to his senses by a sharp elbow in his side. "You didn't tell me you were planning this…" Zirconia hisses.

"I didn't know," he replies firmly. "But it doesn't look like I have much choice in the matter, does it?" Turning his attention back to Aurelia, he realises she is dismissing the assembled crowd.

"I needn't remind you to tell nobody about this meeting. Goodbye and good luck. As of now, the 76th Annual Hunger Games has begun."

AN: This is my first Hunger Games fic, so I'd love to hear some feedback!