Disclaimer: Hunger Games and the world of Panem do not belong to me, but their rightful owners, I just borrowed it and don't make any money from it.

Prologue

Capitol – Head Gamemaker Gaius Mendelev

Head Gamemaker Gaius Mendelev made sure his steps were measured and not hesitant, that the not so fast pace appeared deliberate yet not lacking in purpose, as he walked along the echoing hallway. He was about to meet Coriolanus Snow, the current President of Panem, to get the President's blessing for the arena for the 67th Hunger Games and truth be told, he was dreading this meeting. It was hopefully the last of many meetings regarding this arena, the one meeting which would let him know that all the hard work of the last year had been worth it. That he had indeed created an arena worthy of the President's expectations regarding the Hunger Games. And yet…

One never knew if not one of the President's family members had recently visited one of the old arenas and had become enamoured with a certain feature and was now championing this feature with the mighty head of the family to see it implemented in this year's arena as well. The thought alone of being ordered to add a forest or even a copse, any cluster of trees to the current design made Gaius shudder and it took a lot of willpower to not slow down his pace further. No, this year's Hunger Games arena was not designed to include any kind of sky-reaching trees. To add this would turn a well-balanced layout into a monstrosity not worthy of a gamemaker of Gaius' reputation.

Another, equally unsettling option of messing with the design was, if one of the powerful yet not too powerful families in the Capitol who owned certain shares in one of the district industries had seriously displeased the President and Snow would then order that nothing even remotely connected with that specific industry was to be used in this year's arena. To remove something which might be a key-feature of this design and having to replace it within the short time which remained till the beginning of the Hunger Games season was next to impossible. And again, any substitute would most likely be only shabby in comparison with the original layout and therefore not something Gaius wanted to be connected with his name.

As he neared the heavy wooden double doors leading to the President's office, the Head Gamemaker could hear soft strains of music emanating from inside. He stopped to listen to the music for a moment and was instantly enthralled and taken aback at the same time. This was neither the whimsical music one could find in the Capitol clubs or fancily overdone in official concerts nor was it the simple, though often haunting melodies of the folk songs from the districts. This one was more primordial yet at the same time held a mystical power and finesse that was hard to pin down. It urged the listener on, yet held him back at the time… It was foreboding. It was powerful. And somehow Gaius Mendelev instantly understood that this was a piece of music the President would be drawn to.

He lingered at the door for a few moments, unsure whether to knock and disturb the music or to wait till the piece came to an end, when the notes became lighter for a short few bars during which he could hear the characteristic voice of the President call 'Enter!' despite the lack of a knock on Gaius' side. The gamemaker smiled ruefully and glanced briefly at the small camera situated above the door, which had undoubtedly alerted the President of his arrival. Adjusting the rolled up layout of the arena and the file with the additional information under his arm, Gaius took one last deep breath before entering the lion's den.

"A fascinating piece of music, isn't it?" the President asked from behind his desk, where he sat in his opulent chair, appearing relaxed for all in the world. Yet the Head Gamemaker knew better than that. President Coriolanus Snow was never relaxed in the presence of someone else. There were some whispers in the Capitol that he not even fully relaxed while sleeping.

The Head Gamemaker inclined his head and moved forward till he stood just behind the guest seats in front of the desk. One never sat in the presence of the President without being invited.

"Pre-cataclysmic", President Snow elaborated with a slight nod in the direction of the strains of music which again engulfed the room. "Called 'The Flying Dutchman'. Most of it was lost in the Cataclysm, but this piece, the Overture, survived."

Now Gaius knew why he had been unable to place or classify this music. Pre-cataclysmic lore was fragmented at best and some of it was of restricted access. Most likely a piece of music such as this would be considered either too dangerous for the population of Panem in general, considering that it had the power to stir up wild emotions and longings in the people, or too complicated in understanding for the majority of the audience. Even he, who had had the privilege of the best education the Capitol and consequently Panem could offer, along with the finer and more intricate parts of what the society of this country was, to which he had had access to thanks to his family's position and his own career as a gamemaker, could hardly grasp the many layers a piece of music such as this Overture held.

"But I don't think you came here today to discuss ancient music with me." With this the President sat up and reduced the volume of the music so that it almost faded into the background.

The Head Gamemaker was not one minute fooled by the jovial appearance the President was giving himself. Truly, nobody would have been able to just come and visit the President for a chat about pre-cataclysmic lore, unless perhaps he was a member of the family. Which Gaius was not. Plus they were both very much aware of the fact that the President had ordered him here for that day and that time. And yet, Gaius knew the rules of the game too well, not to smile graciously and reply: "Any time, Sir, any time. One would be quite a fool not to appreciate music such as this." With this he placed the rolled up layout on the desk, allowing the President to unroll it himself.

For several moments the room was almost completely silent as Coriolanus Snow perused the detailed layout. As always the arena was of a round shape since this allowed for a stable force-field. Yet where other arenas were sometimes lush or even overgrown, sporting various layers of vegetation to allow for the tributes to hide in, find resources of food and fire-making, as well as giving the gamemakers tools of turning the arena against the tributes, this one was almost barren.

"I see you came up with some ideas for the problem of nightly exposure", the President mused.

People often believed that the Gamemakers started the creation of an arena on the drawing table. That they simply tossed together features they liked, arranged and rearranged them on the drawing board till they had perfected the layout and then started building the thing. But that was not how it worked. Besides, it would have been highly impractical to have to move trees several meters high to create an artificial forest if the arena called for it. Not to mention all the work that was to be put into an arena to implement the multitude of cameras and other technical devices needed to have the arena ready for operation. So what the gamemakers did instead was to tour the lands beyond the Capitol with hovercrafts to find an area that looked promising. An area that would give the audience variety from the previous arena and could be adapted without too many troubles.
This year they had chosen an area surrounding a receding salt lake. The last arena had boasted of plenty of water, though of course they had added dangers to this resource, so having now an arena where drinking water was hard to come by was enticing. Of course they would make proper equipment available to the tributes to desalinize the water, but the tributes would have to pick up that knowledge during training. And since not all tributes tried out all the stations offered in the training centre, some mentors would be forced to spend precious sponsor money on keeping their tributes hydrated. The President had liked this twist and had instantly approved of it. The receding salt lake however meant that a large part of the arena was just the barren, salty desert with the occasional rock and some scruffy bushes… An area like that without shelter or wood to provide the tributes with fire for the nights was a liability as they had found out the hard way three years ago. True, that arena had been even more of a desert, sometimes sandy, sometimes rocky, but it had been rather anticlimactic to see most of the tributes outside of the Career Alliance die of nightly exposure, simply freezing to death. And it simply did not do to repeat past mistakes in the concept of an arena. So they had had to find a fitting solution for this. Eventually they had settled with adding shipwrecks. These rusty hulls would provide enough shelter, would allow for camera equipment to give nightly impressions of the tributes and offered a way to herd the tributes together in due time.

"Yes, Sir", Gaius replied. "We thought that once, when the lake had been larger and the salt concentration not that high, there might have been fish in the lake, and with it fishing industry."

President Snow nodded. "I like the idea. Indeed, a very good idea… Did you know that the legend of 'The Flying Dutchman' is about a ghost ship?"

The Head Gamemaker could not believe his luck. He had picked ships for shelter and the President was currently listening to some music about a ship! Unless he now botched things up in a spectacular manner, this was almost an assured approval of the layout. "No, I did not…"

"A ship, floating in from the sky!"

It was obvious that Snow wanted that theme to be exploited a bit more. The wheels in Gaius' head turned in high speed. "The feast…," he said after a few moments of pondering this. "Instead of raising it from below, we could have it brought in by a hovercraft disguised as a ship."

"Capital! See that it is done!" The President then returned his attention to the layout. Carefully counting the tiny ships on the map, he furrowed his brow. "Twelve ships? Added to that area of rocky hills, don't you think that this is overdoing the shelter issue a bit?"

The gamemaker had been prepared for this question. "Not really, Sir. See?" He retrieved a folded paper from the file which proved to be a construction drawing of one of the ships. "All ships will be equipped with hidden explosives. So since we have one ship per district, the moment both tributes are out of the game, we'll detonate a shipwreck, reducing the number of shelters. There may be twelve ships when the tributes are launched into the arena, but by the end of the first day, statistics say there'll be at least one or two ships less. The current plan is that we'll detonate the ships furthest away from the Cornucopia first, thereby making sure that the tributes over the span of the Games will be drifting back in the direction of the centre. Even if one tries to hide out in the remotest ship still standing, the ships are clearly visible, so they can be tracked down. Also I expect that there'll be fights over certain ships, since the closer to the centre they are, the better their condition is."

"Sounds promising… The shelters give raise to hope in the tributes and as has been proven countless times in the Games, hope is often the spark needed to get the tributes fighting… And if a tribute is not playing by the rules, thinking they can hide out in a ship, we can give them proper warning or even blow up their shelter… Truly promising concept. I approve of it."

With this President Snow reached into one of his drawers to remove the carefully crafted stamp with the President's seal. Without further ado, he stamped his approval on the layout.

Gaius felt relief wash over him. All other aspects, the water bottles, the muttations, the food sources, the equipment to be distributed at launching, the uniforms for the tributes, had already been approved in previous meetings. There might still be minor adjustments in uniforms or equipment depending on the tributes they got, but those were hardly ever an issue. "Thank you, Sir." The gamemaker rolled up the layout and prepared to leave. As the President raised the volume of the music once more, he could hear him say: "Since we are going for a legendary theme with this Flying Dutchman Arena, I think I'll have the stylists come up with equally legendary themes for the tributes' parade outfits. Legends to reflect the districts… After all, we should respect the ancient lore."

Gaius nodded and bid the President a good day. Once outside the closed double doors, he allowed a sentiment of pity to show on his face as he thought of the reaction of the stylists once they learned of the President's idea of exploring the ancient lore in terms of costumes. The stylists were a curious group of people, more interested in their art than in playing the political game, which surrounded the Hunger Games. As such they never liked any interference with their work. But even worse – this year's order meant that they'd have to make sure that they did not pick the same legend as another stylist. And while the stylists might socialize with each other, their ideas for the parade costumes was probably the best kept secret in the Capitol, perhaps even the only secret that was successfully kept in this city. So, having to talk about it in advance… But well, this was not Gaius' problem. His focus was better turned on disguising a hovercraft as a ship with full sails.