On the one hundred and seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, twenty-four tributes born in May will be reaped. These tributes will all have alternating birthdays in the month, starting from the seventh of May and ending at the thirty-first of May, the exact timeline of the games. For every day the games progress, whichever tribute's birthday it is the following day will have exactly one day to kill another tribute to survive another week at the hands of the Gamemakers. If they fail to do this, they will be killed.

Nicol Janvier, Head Gamemaker:

It's ridiculous.

Propagandist.

Exaggerated.

An epitome of Capitol culture.

It's beautiful.

It's like the cards know. It's like they know I'm a sadist at heart.

That I want to kill these children.

That I long for their demises. Their slow, agonising, gruesome demises.

It is to occur.

Otherwise I wouldn't be here. The President shares my desires, to end the Districts slowly; to slowly snatch their hope, taunt them and then crush it forever. President Ember Saint-Blaise, the young, flamboyant, intelligent leader the Capitol deserves.

President Ember Saint-Blaise, here to rule fair, punishing the Districts at all costs while providing a life of luxury for her righteous people.

President Ember Saint-Blaise, finally the one. The one who shares my desires, dreams, ideas and-

President Ember Saint-Blaise, standing right next to me.

I realise I've been silent much longer than I need to be for whatever she told me, or asked me or-

"I'm sorry, could you repeat the question, Miss President?"

"What question, silly? I was just admiring our city as well."

A light chuckle falls on her lips; her lips, coated in bright red lip gloss, meeting each other again after she finishes her giggles. In all my twenty-six years of life, my eyes had never befallen upon such beauty.

"Oh, I see."

"I hope your plans for this years' Quell are as grand as the sight our eyes currently hold, Nicol."

"Of course, Miss President, although I assume you've seen our plans, providing Rees followed his orders."

"Need not worry, he followed them."

That smile again.

"However, would you remind me again, Nicol?"

"Sorry?"

"The plans, Nicol."

Right. The plans.

"Well, the cards decreed that every tribute must be born in the month of May with differentiating birthdays. Of course, we checked the populations and this is indeed possible. I know you've read of this already, Miss Pres-"

"Please, Nicol, just Em."

"Of course, Em. W-Where was I, uh, ah the reaping! Yes, it will be a 'May-only-reaping', as we're dubbing it. It's too hard to get every kid to show up to the reaping in some of the, well, more rebellious Districts like Six and Eleven, so we've enforced death in every District for all May-born children who aren't present."

"Good!" Em replies, ruffling my pinkish hair eagerly, smiles forming on both our faces. My fists tighten more behind my back, every bit of appreciation I receive lifting me higher.

"Yes, well, when we have our tributes, the chariot rides are set to have a theme of spring, going with May and all. Then, training, interviews and finally, the arena."

"Have you decided on that yet, Nicol dear?"

"Well, we were going to discuss it with you today Em, considering the team's gotten off their asses to see you. In the next room, if you will."

We stride out of the observation deck and onto the balcony above the headquarters. Gasps and snaps to attention fill the room as we're noticed.

"Miss President!"

"Panem forever!"

"Good morning, you two!"

"Settle down, you lot!" The flurry of attention ceases with my words. "Yes, we have a special guest today," I nod at Em, "but it doesn't mean slacking off for photos!"

The flurry roars again, only this time with phrases of agreement.

"Yes sir!"

"Fine."

"Whatever you say, Nicol."

Agreement and dissent, but agreement nonetheless.

"Hello everyone, Nicol here tells me you've got the arena all planned out."

"Miss President." Tess, one of the senior Gamemakers, rises and projects the plan for the arena. "We do. During the season of Spring, Miss President, the Earth constantly rotates towards the Sun. Both the north and south hemispheres warm and-"

"So explain to me why you want another year of snow."

The bright blue holograph indeed shows snow, something I wasn't aware was embedded into the design. As I open my mouth to protest against Tess, she shoots me a glare. "You see Miss President, that's the whole point. There are no bodies of water in the arena. Snow melts with heat. After a period of time, the snow will have melted and revealed a paradise of exotic flora and fauna. But what happens when snow melts?"

"Ice?"

"Rees, you're an idiot."

"Water." Em answers, her facial expression detailing the inner workings of her mind, processing Tess's words and the effect it will have on the Games.

"Correct. This amount of snow will form-"

"A flood."

Hey! So this is my first SYOT! I'm pretty excited to do this! I'm cornellfann, by the way, but you can call me Jack.

I really don't have many rules and I'm not overly strict or judgmental on anything related to these stories. I'll take pretty much any tribute I get, although I do have some queries, most of which are outlined on the form on my profile. Any one person can submit up to THREE tributes, mainly because I don't think I'll get many entries to be completely honest. You can submit via review or PM, either way I'll get back to you, probably by PM.

I'm relatively new here, so some constructive criticism or any tips of SYOT writing would be appreciated where applicable. I promise you I'm not a mean person! I'm not going to be biased against any tribute I receive! I'm here to serve and entertain.

I may write another prologue explaining this Quarter Quell more although that really depends on the influx of tributes I receive, whether it be many or few. Also, note I'm using the season of spring in northern hemisphere meteorology: as in spring is in May and not September like in Australia, where I'm from.

Let me know your thoughts on this story in a review and thank you for reading!