The audience silences as a young girl-no more than ten, wearing a simple purple dress slowly walks onto the stage, carrying a plain wooden box. The atmosphere is quiet-not just here, but all over Panem. After all, it's the Hunger Games centennial. This Quarter Quell is supposed to be especially unforgettable.
President Davus, the new president begins the traditional speech. The history of Panem, followed by the rebels and the Dark Days, and as a yearly reminder not to repeat those horrors-The Hunger Games. Davus continues his speech, talking about the more recent rebellion twenty-five years ago, which began with Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, the tributes of District 12, reminding the country about how they should be grateful for their now peaceful lives. Many people in the districts would be snickering right now at the load of crap propaganda, probably written down for Davus by Snow himself. But they know not to say anything. They know what will happen if they challenge the Capitol.
Finally, he opens the box and reached inside, slowly pulling out a small yellow envelope labelled with "100."
He opens the envelope and a small smile spreads across his face. Everyone in Panem is holding their breaths as he reads what will be the twist in this year's Quarter Quell.
"For the one-hundredth Hunger Games, as a reminder to the rebels of the fear that they evoked onto innocent people during the Dark Days, each tribute will battle their greatest fears in the arena."
There is a collective gasp, some shouts, some confused murmuring, but nevertheless surprise.
Primrose Everdeen sighs and turns the TV off. She does not want to waste another second watching the Hunger Games. Not after they took Katniss away from her.
She remembers the day of the reaping twenty-six years ago, when Katniss volunteered to save Prim's life. She was ecstatic when Katniss returned, not alone, but with Peeta. Only for Snow to take them away again.
Prim had heard Katniss moaning in her sleep at the nightmares that haunted her from the arena. She remembered Katniss telling her about people who became addicted to morphling and drugs to cover it up. Prim shudders and thinks of Haymitch, the old drunk victor.
Telling herself not to cry, she walks into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of tea. She sits down at the table and slowly sips the drink, trying her best not to cry. Prim looks at the other end of the table and tries her best to picture her old family sitting at the table with her-but no one comes.
Earlier-
Apollo Tiell, the Head Gamemaker smiled to himself as he stared out the window of the Capitol hovercraft to the large arena below. It's a picturesque northern landscape, with icy lakes and coniferous forests stretching to the mountain near the back of the arena. Each part of the arena beautiful, each section holding new horrors for the tributes.
Apollo knew what the announcement for the Quell means. Normally, the Games were meant to be fearful-to keep the Districts in line-but they were meant to be viewed as entertainment. This year was supposed to be an entertaining horror movie. Simple enough.
Then again, Apollo realized, the Gamemakers are basing much of the arena off of the tributes' fears. And they won't know until the reapings. Which wasn't happening for a month.
As if to answer his question, an Avox appeared a minute later, carrying a small box, from the Capitol scientists. He sat at the table and waved the Avox away, slowly opening his box, wondering what kind of help it would be to the Quell.
Apollo opened it to find a small vial of neon green liquid, with a letter beside it. His eyes widened as he reads it, and a minute later he opened the vial and put a drop-only a drop-on his eye. Those were the instructions.
He closed his eyes and shook his head in pain as the liquid burns his eye. When he opened them again, he looked down at his hands. They were on fire.
Apollo leapt back and shook his head, rubbing his eyes. When he looked down again, the flames were gone.
He walked back to the table and picked the vial up again, closing it and gingerly placing it back into the box.
He had to admit-the scientists had done their job well.
