I only read the Hunger Games three months ago, shortly afterwards I discovered the SYOT stories here on Fanfiction and now…I'm writing my own. It's scary and I'm hoping it will be cool. I've decided to do the 1st Hunger Games, it may be overdone but I'm hoping to make it different enough that people like it.
Garrick DeMontford, President of Panem.
After years of my beloved Panem playing host to war, of the Capitol being threatened by the savage Districts: The exquisite taste of Victory is mine for the taking. Mere hours ago, the fate of Panem still hung in the balance. The world was at risk of being turned upside down. With the vicious Rebel leaders reigning over the Capitolites and their superior breeding. But the children of the Capitol can sleep restfully tonight: A hero came forward to end this war and ensure the Capitol supremacy. That hero is I, Garrick Coriolanus DeMontford.
In my short tenure as President, my penchant for strategy has allowed me to utilise the resources available to the Capitol. Ending the District's pathetic attempts to seize power from those that surpass them in every way, and cementing the Capitol's legacy as the leaders of Panem. As soon as I was informed that the Capitol Armed Services, or as they are fondly referred to by Capitolites 'Peacekeepers', were able to shut off the trade routes between the Districts: It was evident that this war was over.
Shortly afterwards I was able to ensure that the Peacekeepers assumed control of the Rebel Bases, and without the resources and the 'safe houses' which gave them the chance to organise attacks against the Capitol: Their efforts became futile. Many laid down their weapons, tucking their tails between their legs like the animals they are. But some, they may be considered 'courageous' or more accurately stupid, continued to fight against the Capitol's forces despite knowing their inevitable fate. The Dark Days came to an end and, as President, it is my duty to shepherd Panem into a new age: An age of light and prosperity for the Capitol.
Now however, I find myself celebrating the Capitol's victory with those who were pivotal in guaranteeing the Districts' downfall. Those who provided the counsel on eliminating every threat we, as the Capitol, faced. The delicate thrum of Debussy provides an ambient atmosphere as the liqueur flows generously. I myself favour water knowing that as we navigate towards the Age of the Capitol, it is most prudent to keep my wits about me. I smile indulgently as sincere compliments are offered by my cabinet of advisors.
"Genius, if I say so myself… Neutralising 13 with radiation and forcing them underground like the vermin they are. Genius…"
Harold Merriweather was usually a stoic man, but his reddened face revealed his inebriated state. He continued to ramble, stating facts I was already well aware of as I was the one who had orchestrated the systematic destruction of the graphite District. A genial smile remained on my face, luxuriating in the compliments thrown my way and basking in the knowledge that the Capitol had maintained its firm control over the Nation. Debussy had been replaced by Bach, but the joyful camaraderie had given way to more serious topics of discussion. Evidently it was only Merriweather who had overindulged on the alcoholic front.
"How do you propose we prevent something like this happening again? War is inevitable…" Niall Jensen opened the forum of discussion, although it dampened the celebratory mood. The things he'd expressed were genuine causes for concern. The Capitol had advantages with the technology available, but the Districts held the highest number of available combatants. Silence reigned over those gathered in my lavish living quarters until Merriweather roused momentarily from his slumber.
"Public execution, we just kill them all. Problem solved" He punctuated his brash statement by banging his flabby fist against the mahogany writing desk where he had perched. His statement, while illogical and downright absurd, was humorous and most of those gathered began to laugh at Merriweather's notion. Sabrina Fenton, on the other hand, had little patience for such things. Running her willowy fingers through her moss coloured hair, and narrowing her obsidian eyes on the man who'd just spoken.
"And who exactly would do everything Harold? I swear that if you were in possession of one shred of intelligence, you'd be a dangerous man. You see, I did not fund the war effort so that my children, and the future generations of the Capitol, would be mining coal like vagrants. We need a workforce, the Districts provide that…or would you all prefer to tarnish the Capitol's reputation by having us labour like common tramps."
Sabrina openly challenged anyone to dispute what she was saying, nobody did. She smirked triumphantly at the acceptance of what she'd said; unfortunately this allowed the other occupants of the room to begin broadcasting their opinions on how the Capitol should maintain an ironclad grasp on Panem and control over the districts. The cacophony of voices became a wall of sound, and I rubbed at my temples to banish an oncoming migraine as I filtered out some of the more absurd suggestions.
"If I may…"
A saccharine sweet voice rung out: Rendering the room silent. Corrine Snow came forward from where she had been residing all evening, a small armchair nearest my collection of tomes that I'd accumulated over the years. With her platinum hair falling in gentle waves, and the soft angles of her face many would assume that she were nothing more than a beautiful woman destined for life as a Capitolite housewife. They were wrong in so many ways, you need only to observe the way she waltzed with lethal grace to suspect she was not as dainty as her stature would imply. But if you looked into her cold cerulean eyes, belying the shrewdness of her character and glimmering with her vindictive nature, you would not doubt that she is ranked amongst the most dangerous people to roam Panem.
Corrine Snow may be the reason that the Capitol prevailed. A renowned biochemical engineer, who single handily designed and constructed a large portion of the weaponry exploited by our forces. She was not one to speak often, but when she did speak it was wise to listen. I felt myself leaning forwards and focussing all my attention on her slight figure. Once it was clear that everyone was listening intently, she bared her teeth in what could be construed as a smile.
"As of now, the Districts fear how we would retaliate if they were to lash out at us again, they don't know what tricks may be hidden beneath our proverbial sleeves. Fear rules the actions of the Districts. They fear us, and therefore they're acting in whichever way they feel will result in our showing them mercy."
Corrine paused for a nanosecond, her words painting an image of the Districts' subservience. I could feel the smugness radiating from the rooms occupants; they're grins growing by the second. Rather than copying their actions, I remained focussed on Corrine. She would not have spoken if only to stroke the egos of Panem's elite. She caught my gaze and raised an eyebrow, silently questioning if I would like her to continue. I simply gestured for her to do so, clearing my throat to bring the focus back to the matter at hand.
"Thank you, Garrick. As I said, their fear of our retribution is what is preventing them from attacking the Capitol. For now, for I am sure that none of you are naïve enough to believe that simple fear could control so many people indefinitely…"
Corrine narrowed her eyes at the room at large, and smirked as she saw some people lower their gazes to the ground. Abashed at the young woman exposing their 'naiveté' Corrine's sarcastic admonishment caused a murmur to run through the room. And catching Corrine's eye I knew that she had caught what I had: The bitter aroma of fear.
"So fear is our temporary method of handing the Districts, but there are other things to consider that are far more powerful than fear. Things that could motivate the Districts to rise against us yet again, and I think it correct to say that we all agree that another war would be inconvenient."
As her words sank in, hushed whispers began to traverse the room. The atmosphere began to thicken with the heady perfume of panic, one person however remained unaffected by Snow's statement. Gregor Samsa, an insect like man with lime coloured skin and pinched features, scoffed and cast himself in the role of Devil's advocate. I smirked as Snow remained unaffected by his rude gesture, used to Samsa's controversial methods of approaching issues.
"What is it you're getting at Corrine? I have neither the time, nor the patience, for your worthless rambling."
The tension cut have been cut with a knife, everyone's eye travelled between Gregor and Corrine as if they were watching a tennis match. Rather than responding to the verbal bait, Corrine brushed off his discourteousness and smiled before beginning to walk around the room. Her voice becoming softer, the gentle lilt somehow pulling the focus of the room onto herself. Like a moth to a flame.
"Hope, as long as they have hope there is always the risk: However small, and seemingly insignificant, that may be…That we will face another uprising."
My elbows rested against my desk as my eyes followed Snow across the room, her voice beckoning me to listen. My actions were mirrored by the other members of the cabinet; even Gregor's eyes had lost their glistening arrogance momentarily. He shook his head before clapping his hands together slowly, violet eyes narrowed at Corrine and a patronising grimace twisting his features.
"And tell us, oh knowledgeable one, how we are somehow meant to eradicate hope? Have you been tinkering around in your little lab with a 'Hope Vacuum'?"
I was entranced by the verbal sparring between the two, smirking as Corrine bristled slightly: A raspberry hue marring her pale complexion. Her usually plump lips now a thin line of distaste, her arms folded against her chest as she glares vehemently at her 'opponent'.
"I know that you've always struggled with understanding emotions Gregor, your limited emotional range was justifiably the reason that your marriage ended. But you can't 'eradicate' hope, you can only ever control. Or moderate how much hope the Districts as a collective can have: Or you redirect the source of their hope to something other than overthrowing the Capitol. Turn their aggression from the Capitol towards one another, a Civil War of sorts."
"How?"
Gregor wasted no time in throwing a question at Corrine. I suspected his animosity towards her may have grown even more due to her barb about his marriage: But he had always resented Corrine and attempted to belittle her. It wasn't hard to distinguish the hope in his voice that Corrine wouldn't be able to answer his seemingly innocent question. The flippancy of Corrine as she inspected her nails, however, vanquished that hope.
"I have a rough idea, something I've been contemplating for a while. A pageant of sorts – 24 will compete. A male and female from the 12 remaining Districts, since the general populace believe District 13 to have been completely destroyed—"
"Oh and the winners will get a crown and a sash?"
This errant comment came from Evangeline Islington, an airheaded girl whose generally annoying nature was neutralised by her substantial finances and desire to see the Districts of Panem suffer. Both Corrine and Gregor, their dispute momentarily forgotten, glared at the imbecilic girl. Corrine however was quick to hide her disdain, a feral smile curling her lips.
"This would be unlike any pageants that come before it. There may well be a sash and crown involved, that's undecided: But the main prize for the winner, a singular winner, is that they will get to survive. This isn't a competition of talent rounds, although I believe we could incorporate some elements of a conventional 'Pageant': This is a game that you only win by eliminating the competition."
The tone of her voice left no question as to how the participants would be expected to 'eliminate' one another. And the gasps from around the room told me that everyone had understood the implications, a general buzz of chatter permeates the room and the fear from beforehand has dissolved and gave way to the gentle warmth of anticipation and excitement. And as expected it is Gregor who attempts to discredit the young engineer.
"So, you're grand plan is something along the lines of lining up 24 District children and having 24 Peacekeepers shoot them down, yet one barrel is barren of bullets. That sounds like a simple alternative to your little 'Pageant'"
I struggle to prevent myself from banging my head against my desk; Gregor's antipathy is making him desperately try to discredit Corrine. But the only thing he is succeeding in is making himself look nothing more than a pompous fool. Corrine catches my eye and shakes her head at his rash stupidity.
"No, the Capitol acting out and killing 23 District civilians is basically adding fuel to the fire of hope rather than suppressing it. The key to this whole concept is to alienate the Districts against one another, and since you're incapable of understanding maybe you require an example. A male from District 2 brutally murders the female of District 9, this results in resentment between the two Districts. Therefore the probability of said Districts forming an alliance to take down the Capitol is reduced…Are you all following me?"
My own tenor joins the choral response of agreement throughout the room. I, myself, begin to ponder the logistics of Corrine's proposal and concede that the idea itself, while flawed, is the better than anything I have been able to put together. Gregor's bitterness is palpable as he concedes defeat by emptying his tumbler of Malt Whiskey. He grunts in agreement.
"Okay Corrine, you're right. We throw them all into a room and one comes out."
Gregor's response is met by an exasperated sigh from Corrine who pinches the bridge of her nose. Her gesture appears to radiate frustration, but when she turns her gaze to Gregor her blue eyes are full of pity and it's at that moment that Corrine has cinched absolute victory over Samsa as the people spread throughout the room began to titter at his expense. Gregor's lime complexion began to darken to a forest green in embarrassment and Corrine simply turned her back to the spluttering man, before addressing the room at large.
"Gregor's idea does have 'merit' but it lacks foresight. We need to look at the bigger picture; this concept can be exploited to not only punish and suppress the Districts. This can benefit the Capitol too, both economically and socially: We fashion this as entertainment, make it something that people will talk about. People will have their favourites and could 'sponsor' them throughout the ordeal. But it would be costly, we can manufacture anything they'd need for barely anything but if somebody wants one of the participants to have, a crossbow for example, they'd have to pay a lot which would then be brought back into the Capitol and reinvested into other areas… But that's not all, we could completely alter the relationship between the Capitol and the Districts. We have one 'Victor', we shower them with riches they can take back to their District. We could repeat this every year, the participants would be competing for riches that their District direly needs. Rather than planning an uprising, they'll be more concerned with survival or the glory of being the individual who brought prosperity to their District. They will need us."
A triumphant glimmer made itself known in Corrine's eyes. She had everyone sold on the idea, myself included. I couldn't doubt now that Corrine's genius is what will ensure my ascension to the most revered President in Panem's history. My fingers tingled in anticipation for Corrine's proposal to come into existence, my lips curling in satisfaction that the District's would be reminded time and time again of their powerlessness against the might of the Capitol. This would be what reminded the Districts one and for all, that they should never have bitten the hand that feeds them. As the room remains speechless as they muse over what Snow had said, I stand and all eyes are suddenly fixed on me.
"Corrine, your twisted logic and harrowing intelligence never fail to impress me. In due course, we will have to meet and discuss this 'Pageant' further. But until then, we must celebrate the end of the Dark Days."
My words are greeted with a chorus of cheers as people return to their mundane conversations, about how Tilley Dunois has supposedly devised a dye that would alter the color of people's feces. I, however, seek out Corrine. Her eyes are fixed on me, shining with joy that I have practically given the go ahead for her sordid fantasy to become a reality. She gave me a coy smile before turning her back and leaving the celebration before I could as much as ask her if she'd like a drink. Rather than wasting time in pondering the enigmatic Snow woman, and the consequent migraine, I head towards the liquor cabinet: Long live the Capitol.
Man, let me know what you think and get submitting. PM me and I'll send you the form. Over the next few days I have a tonne of little 'prologues' so I'll get a tribute list up too. But obviously as of right now it is empty XD
Also, I love creating tributes, so if you know any stories…send me their way. I recently submitted to The 57th Hunger Games: Welcome to Oblivion by ASimpleMind94 – she needs tributes so if you have some spare time, head over there and give her some tributes too ;)