This is going to be a SYOT (Submit Your Own Tribute) fanfiction, so it will be interactive. The tribute form will be in the second chapter, as this is a prologue.
"Today's the day Panem, reaping day, that is!" says Caesar with a dazzling smile and a booming laugh. "The Gamemakers told me that it's supposed to be one of the best arenas in years. The sixty third Hunger Games are going to be so fantastic, you Capitalites may just fall out of your seats, or so I hear! We here in the studio, myself included, cannot wait until the footage of the reapings arrive and can be reviewed! I'm sure the tributes will be great contenders in this game! Happy Hunger Games citizens of Panem! And may the odds be ever in your favor! I'm Caesar Flickerman, bringing this to you from the Capital of Panem, see you next time on the countdown to the sixty third annual Hunger Games! Back to you Claudius on the ground."
A bell rang out through the studio, and everyone seemed to relax, knowing that they were not live on television any longer. The main part of the day was over, until the footage for the reaping was edited for content and aired. But, the airing of the reaping would be later in the evening, when everyone was available to watch the mandatory viewing. Caesar enjoyed his part in the Games: how he helped people form opinions of the competitors. He always had his private opinions about who would win, and out of all the games that he had been in his position, he had always been right.
Caesar Flickerman walked away from the camera, his personal assistant taking his suit jacket and loosening his bowtie with her long silver nails. He looked over her long bronze locks, watching everyone chat and discuss the upcoming games, a source of excitement in the Capital. Tonight the bets would start on who would win the games, so tonight was very busy for the bookies and first impressions of the tributes were important. His show producer was chattering away into his headset, shooting him a thumbs up and a smile. He was probably talking to the people editing footage of the reapings, while setting up other events such as the tribute parade and mentor interviews. He grabbed a water and a small bright green pill. In the past, Caesar had heard that they had something like this, caffeine pills, however these little green pills, called "GO!" made you happier, energized and fresh-feeling, and lasted for more than twelve hours.
Caesar leaves the newsroom and goes into the hair and makeup room. Knowing that changing his purple hair and tinted skin to a sky blue color was a long process that took hours, only getting done only minutes from the premiere of the reaping ceremony. From the skin and hair dying itself to the detail work and drying, everything had to go without a hitch, and there was no time for mistakes, much like the games. He was a little nervous that this color would be the one color scheme that he wouldn't like. His hair had been numerous colors since he started announcing the games thirty four years ago. The previous announcer was an elderly uncle of the president, who supported him on the way up, however he died shortly after the game's inception, after the final interview of the twenty eighth games. Ceasar, after receiving the head interviewer and head game journalist job, meet with his stylist and created his signature outfit: a midnight blue suit with light inserts, designed to look like stars. He had worn the same suit, just different copies, every year since that first year. So, to keep hid stylist and prep team busy, he graciously allowed him to choose his color of the year. Most of the time they made him look lovely, but this time…he wasn't so sure. A color that is almost white made him look too mature, too advanced in age, which he did not want.
Caesar loves his job, he thought of it as a journalist's dream. He would not want to be a Gamemaker at all. He would much rather get to know the kids, not get to know how to kill them. In Caesars eyes the games are like a soap opera. Although he did acknowledge that the games would be better if the Gamemakers made it crueler; killing off his favorite characters or tributes as they are called.
He opened the door to his preparation room, which had a navy door with his name in little stars, paid for by one of his many admirers and inspired by his suit, apparently. He walked into the room, seeing his prep team in the next room, filling up a bathtub full of light blue dye. First his skin would be dyed, then his hair (including his eyebrows), and then finally his lips. His purple dye had not faded to his normal skin color, which he had not seen since he had turned ten, and thinking that snakes at the zoo were awesome, asked his mother for his tenth birthday present to get scaly skin like his favorite reptile.
He laid in the tub, eyes closed, for hours. He thought of quips and funny, witty comments he could ask during the interviews and during the news segments. His prep team gave him the signal to emerge from the tub of dye, gesturing him quickly to the low pressure full body dryer, patting the drips down with dark black towels so that the towels wouldn't be ruined and so that his skin wouldn't streak with all the drips drying. After he was dried, the prep team worked on his hair and eyebrows. Once they were dyed, and washed, he looked at the final effect. His hair, slicked back into a ponytail, looked superb, and the total effect was strangely attractive, youthful, and unique. With the styles of the season traditionally being bold colors, the subdued powder blue was striking. After complimenting his prep team and stylist on a job well done, which they lapped up with gusto, he donned his midnight blue star suit, and walked into the newsroom, and greeted Claudius Templesmith, his co-anchor for the main portion of the games. The producer and the camera guy readied themselves for the broadcast, and soon enough they counted down from three. Turning toward the camera and away from the monitor that would show the reapings, he prepared his speech in his head quickly as the producer had one finger up, motioning that there was one second until showtime. Looking directly toward the camera, staring at the person on the other side of the television, he waited until the anthem of Panem was over.
"Hello citizens of Panem, and welcome to the broadcast of the reapings of the sixty third Hunger Games! Up first is District One!"