Hi! This is a SYOT story I'm starting. If you would like to submit a tribute, fill out the form in my profile and PM it to me. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

It's almost completely dark in President Petronia Plume's office aside from the faint glow of her holoscreen, illuminating her gaunt, grey face. Upon the holoscreen a video is playing soundlessly, a blurry mess of blood upon stone. A recap of the 102nd Hunger Games, and one of Plume's favorites. Had it not been muted, screams and perhaps the crunching of bone would be heard. A tap-tap-tap from the rhythmic rapping of her long fingernails on mahogany permeates the stale, stagnant air. She's waiting. But on what, perhaps? No one makes the president wait.

A blinking red light accompanied by a soft beeping appears in the corner of her screen. Finally. Plume quickly pauses the video, switching tabs to the incoming call. She answers. "Ms. President, I apologize for my tardiness, it was quite hectic at the arena construction site-" The man is promptly cut off by a sharp snap of the woman's fingers.

"Tyglius, we've talked about this. I've a better mind to get you killed." She sighs. observing her newly manicured nails rather than looking at Tyglius on the holoscreen. The man suddenly turns a startling white and attempts to speak again before he is, once more, interrupted by the woman on the other side of the call. "But I like you. You're good at your job. Better than whatever his name was..." Plume trails off. Tyglius lets out a breath, just now realizing he had been holding it.

Tyglius Everworth was not what you'd expect a man of the capital to be: nervous, fidgety, and tense. Occasionally he'd speak with a stutter. At one point in time, Plume was embarrassed to call him her Head Game Maker, but after the 103rd Hunger Games, he had proven himself more than worthy of his job.

"Now. Let's get to business." Plume leans in, something close to a grin on her face. "I'd like to hear about this top-secret arena."

Tyglius looks delighted, eager to show his boss his new masterpiece. "So, the main gist of it is tropical islands." A three-dimensional blueprint appeared in the corner of the president's screen with a ding. "Seven islands, the largest being around two kilometers squared, the smallest, about half a kilometer squared." The blueprint expanded, showing the shape and layout of each individual island. The president simply nods, hiding her excitement behind a facade of disinterest.

"Continue."

"Each island is covered in dense tropical rainforest, excluding a portion of the largest island, which is a sandy expanse along the coast." Tyglius was certainly in his element. "That's where-"

"The cornucopia." The president beams.

"Correct." Nods the man. "It's possible to swim, and even walk on the sandbars, during low tide, but during high tide the waters get treacherous."

"But, Tyglius dear." Plume says in a sickly sweet voice. "Tell me about the good stuff. The mutts, the tricks, the traps."

Tyglius chuckles. "Well, Ms. President... You're certainly in for a treat.