Re-written/edited 12/08/2015. Small but significant changes.

Prologue

Year 273, 18 days after the successful completion of the 31st Hunger Games.

Far off in the distance, lightning strikes.

It hurtles towards the ground at a speed incomprehensible to any organic life-form dependent on electromagnetic radiation based vision, jumping along its path through the ionised air to meet the rapidly growing spike of energy flying up from the ground. A tumultuous thundering from the sky heralds the pair joining together only moments later.

The storm continues- grey clouds and wet, clinging rain rampaging across the sky; light and noise joined in a terrible battle to destroy the senses.

Not that anybody at the party notices.

Packed into a room, hundreds of Capitolites swirl across the floor in one dazzling show of beauty, colour and political agenda. As they dance between their various social circles, plying favour from as many groups as possible and pausing only to pluck a few delicacies off the overladen tables they never stop doing one thing- chattering. It is mundane, petty and inconsequential and yet it is never ending. In one corner, a group of three or four men- all gaudily dressed in a rainbow mess of fur and tangled feathers- stand listening to a slightly drooping but equally finely dressed older lady prattling on about the difficulty of finding well-trained and obedient Avoxes; in another a brooding, bald-headed man delivers a stern lecture about the necessities of keeping order and discipline in the Districts; in another a rag-tag bunch of over-costumed kids squeal as they race after each other.

It makes Collinda Smyth smile, watching these people fretting their lives away. She can hear the ominous rumbling of the clouds over the sounds of the party. She knows about all the things that these people pretended didn't exist or didn't happen. She knows the truth. I know the truth.

Chink.

The sound is clear-cut, painfully precise against the background drivel. Instinctively I turn, spinning to face an expected aggressor, my instincts not yet dulled after the recent Games. However, my eyes only find the President, his now empty glass set upon an Avox's tray. Only the President… This man is the most dangerous in Panem, even more dangerous than the Mutts I play with in the arena I remind myself. Were I to offend him, I could face the mobilised might of an entire nation.

"Miss Collinda," his voice is thick and husky, hiding a hint of a southern accent "how nice to see you here."

"Well, I could hardly be expected to miss one of your parties- especially with so many of your citizens already hungering after the next games."

I try not to shirk at his use of my first name. The President is the only man who uses it in formal settings; it's intentionally intimidating, always reminding me that I am beneath him being judged and tested. Even after the years I have personally served him, I am not used to it; I still shake every time he says it, carefully watching me for any sign of fear.

"How funny Miss Collinda!" he almost hurries, bored of the pleasantries "You see, I didn't just call you here to pander to the masses- there's someone I want you to meet…"

He makes a swift gesture with his hand and the crowd behind him suddenly parts to allow a petite fifteen year-old and an older, taller, more world-weary nineteen year-old to pass through. I'm intrigued to recognise the boy as the Victor- Immanuel Caste- looking no better than when he was plucked from the arena with his lack-lustre eyes and sallow skin. And his glare, pointedly aimed in my direction is entirely unpleasant, though I assume this is equally strange for him, coming face to face with someone who had spent weeks trying to kill you and all in the name of entertainment; it's why I prefer not to meet the kids, at least not until they've mellowed a bit, leaving that job to the underlings employed to deal with them. The girl however, is more polite, offering me a quick curtsey before moving to stand closely by the President. He explains her presence quickly.

"My niece Prominessa - she'll be joining the Game-makers this year, just in a junior role, so it's good for her to meet you now. With the right attitude, it won't take her long to advance through the ranks."

I frown at this- the menacing implication is obvious- and seemingly noticing this, the President waves away the girl as easily as he called for her and then motions for Immanuel and I to follow him out of the room. I find myself glad to leave; I was growing tired of the stuffy, overcrowded hall.

We chase after the President through a maze of almost never ending white rooms and as the air gradually cools and I can see the teenager beside me visibly relax. One command from the President however sends him back into his tense state, his shoulders immediately stiffening and his spine arching.

"You're supposed to be talking."

"I'm Immanuel, Miss Coll-under." the boy stutters out these few words, offering a thin bony hand to shake. I knock it away grimly, seeing the cold look of contempt barely concealed in his dark eyes.

"It's Collinda. Ms. Smyth to you anyway. Or Head Game-maker. I know who you are also."

With a few long, over-stretched steps I'm safely in front of him, striding off after the President without having to face the stare of a child who's seen and caused death; killing them in the arena when necessary is fine but having to play with the broken things that return is no fun.

"I know who you are as well. You're the one who surrounded the Cornucopia with lava so that no-one could reach it. You're the one who poisoned half of the Sponsor gifts. You're the one who caused the rock fall that killed Jenny and…" he stops suddenly looking at the motionless silhouette of the President's back. As he glances at the floor, I consider that he seems to have more fight than a lot of the non-Career Victors, something that rapidly makes this thin body far more attractive while it still has some backbone. I break the silence with a light chuckle, probably the first real laugh that has passed through my lips for several weeks.

"Aren't you glad for it? After all if I hadn't done anything, you wouldn't be here!"

"What do you mean?" he snaps back, suddenly sounding like a trapped animal. "I won without any interference from you."

"Oh, did you really? So when you were about to be bloodily murdered by Caleb you escaped without any of our help?"

His eyes cloud, the tainted milky-white spreading further through the already gritty grey-green and he rocks, hunching over and swaying on his feet as he mumbles and mutters to himself, suddenly ignorant of his observers. I know what he is thinking of- that terrifying race through the caves and then up the cliff as the lava climbed, snapping at their heels. Both he and his two allies had survived but the boy from Two had been burned in front of them. It was a necessary intrusion, relieving the pacing of the Games and helping in finishing complete our roster of Victors… And also probably why I am stood here watching a fresh Victor torn from reality and placed back in the Arena. The President is playing one of his games, probing my loyalties. I don't feel guilty about job; we have never promised not to stack the odds in the favour of the best story, the Games are entertainment primarily now. So I don't find the messy end-product; I have no qualms in watching it passively as I am expected to.

Immanual is eventually dragged off by a set of black-suited guards. He's completely gone now, a shadow of who he was mere minutes ago. I in turn relax slightly, hoping that this is all the President has planned.

"Am I needed to stay?"

I don't look around but I can imagine the lined face of the President pressing out new creases as he stares down at the nape of my neck. My question is rewarded with a curt 'no' and a further enquiry as to leaving leads to the man once more navigating us through a twisting mess of passageways. It seems like only moments later that we break out from under the unfriendly artificial light and out into the darkness where the skyline is ridged with the towering shapes of hundreds of chiselled buildings.

As we stand under the protruding balcony of the Presidential Mansion, we are shielded from the rain but I can't resist stretching just a single hand out into the cool air to let the soothing water stream across my palm and trickle down my arm. As it dances across my bare skin it feels like its sweeping away all of the pent up frustration of the night- first the over-excited prep team, then the stifling fan-boys and finally the President, Prominessa and Immanuel. The pair of us just stop like that, until the President rises from the marble wall where he sits and makes his excuses about having to return to his guests. Before he leaves, there's one question that I dread not asking.

"Did I pass?" I try to keep my voice level, sounding like I was just asking him to pass a fresh glass of champagne. "Did I pass the test?"

The President turns to look at me as he balances at the top of the steps, looking down at me with the faint moonlight glinting off his hunter's eyes. Seeing him standing there, outlined against the cold stone is like watching a predator about to pounce on his prey and I wonder whether it might have been better not to have asked. The answer might not be a nice one.

"What test Miss Collinda?" He smiles at my obvious discomfort. There is nothing more terrifying in this world than that clean, exact smile. "I will need an initial draft of the plans for the next Games at the end of the month. Work hard."

With that he's gone, disappeared back into the brightness of the mansion. I am left with nothing but the sound of water splashing onto the cobbles and the irregular flashes of light and explosive noise as companions yet compared with the world hidden within the mansion, a world of concealed tests, long, convoluted games and petty rivalries it seems quiet and boring. They're both beautiful in their own ways, both terrifying and destructive to the uninitiated… and even to some of those who play.

Smiling, I signal for one of the waiting cars to take me back into the city and to my luxurious apartment. It rolls up quickly having made only a short gliding journey up the hill and when it arrives, a silent Avox hurries to hand me a parasol. Taking it, I dash across the unsheltered divide between the mansion and the open car door before the rain can soak through the thin cotton and as I slide into the beautifully lined interior the Avox moves to retrieve the parasol and close the door.

Just before the door clicks shut, a single bolt of lightning jumps down from the sky illuminating the dark grey clouds. The following peal of thunder is almost deafening but it still doesn't drown out the twelve singing chimes that ring out after it. Midnight.

How time flies.

obligatory comment about busyness/writer's block

Sorry for the lack of updates, been busy and had writer's block so couldn't manage the extremely long introductions that I was doing. Instead, I'm re-writing the Reapings four to a chapter, narrated by the Victors (prologue has also been updated if you missed that- not much of a change but fairly significant). It's quicker and I've already passed where I was (just, currently in the middle of Eight).

Next update will be Monday 17/08/15, roughly evening time (GMT), then every second Monday after that.

There are still spots (between 2 and 5), submitter's who I haven't had a chance to sort tributes out with will be contacted tomorrow (probably) or early next week.

Thanks for putting up with me!

\obligatory comment about busyness/writer's block