INFERNAL MAZE: THE 77TH HUNGER GAMES
A Hunger Games Fan Fiction Saga by Vyrazhi
~ POV: Gaius Brutus Coriolanus, President of Panem ~
GIVE THEM BREAD AND CIRCUSES!
Failing that, give them death or glory, and that's exactly what twenty-four tributes are going to get.
Katniss Everdeen. Peeta Mellark. Haymitch Abernathy. Even Effie Trinket. Pah! Traitors one and all, and now they're dead. My predecessor personally supervised their executions at the Capitol, and in the true fashion of our ancestors, one of them was crucified. True, he was not nailed to his cross, only tied and left to hang after being severely scourged. Still, it took him five days to die, while all of Panem watched! That's what rebellion costs you, the price you have to pay. Everyone seems to have forgotten that, but I intend to refresh the people's memories. The Hunger Games have been reinstated, and shall continue until our nation no longer exists. This time, a Head Gamemaker stands at the helm, implementing his own design.
I perfected my Infernal Maze far before this, and set to work on constructing it long ere I became Head Gamemaker. I had the perfect location, materials and labor, and so why not set about undermining my less-ambitious colleagues before they designed an arena even more ingenious for the Hunger Games?
Nine circular labyrinths, nine levels deep, each with its own traps and hazards. Each labyrinth corresponds to a circle of Hell in Dante Alighieri's Inferno, one of the few works of classical literature that has survived since pre-Panem days. Such a gauntlet will be a fitting punishment for twenty-four of the hapless fools who followed the rebels, some through passive acceptance of their treason! If there's one thing that I've learned in my sixty-seven years of life, it's that even if you choose to do nothing, that is a decision in and of itself. You are either with Panem or against it, and we all know what happens to those who oppose us.
Ligia? Is that you…? You're getting slow, old girl. Time to find a replacement for you, though I hate to.
Enough! My Avox has served me well, performing her duty without having to be asked on most occasions. Nina always knows what I want, though she's twenty years my senior! She could have been my mother, but I would have killed mine if she rebelled against the Capitol! As it is, Agrippina is gone, and I daresay I'm glad. She was a nag and scold, always pushing me to try further, be stronger, do better, fight harder! It's amazing what supernatural wonders a little arsenic in one's early-morning glass of wine can perform…
Even so, the past is past. I am President of Panem now, and her specter no longer haunts me. Instead, I haunt the days and nights of all under my subjection! It is no wonder they call me the Ghost, because I never allow my face to be seen - not even on official broadcasts. Let that patsy Caesar Flickerman and his ilk have their place in the spotlight, because they're only my enforcers, and I'll get rid of them if I need to. The more concealed you are from the public eye, the better, and the less concealed they are from yours.
Let's see, now: twenty-three tributes are going to perish, and one become the victor, unless - of course! I'll have to contact my subordinate Gamemakers right away. What perfect justice, and perfect humiliation, it will be to rescue one of them from certain death and transform them into my new and perfect Avox! The first tribute to die will be the one, because that one is the greatest of all losers. Such a wretched creature must be made to pay for his or her utter lack of ability to survive in the Hunger Games, and pay they shall! As for the others, their deaths may be merciful or not, but at least they'll be spared the agony of full resurrection. They'll become muttations, of course, but since the victor must slay them all, luck will be on their side. Which is better, after all: to live as a slave, or to die fighting in the world's most brutal arena?
Slavery is a strange phenomenon: you might say that I myself am in bondage, since I rule all of Panem. It is my duty and responsibility to make sure that everything and everyone is kept in perfect order. If this is so, then how am I free? How am I at liberty to do whatever I please, even possibly ignoring rebellion?
Turn our brand-new terascreens on, Ligia. That's the way. The District 1 Reapings are about to start…
