"Sir," A voice came from behind me as I stood by the window, staring out into the giant rose garden left behind by the previous President of Panem.
"Yes?" I asked before turning to see one of my closer associates hovering cautiously in the doorway. "Ah, Mylute, come in, come in," I welcomed, using broad hand gestures. Mylute Picker, the new head gamemaker I had picked out for this year of the Hunger Games. It was a special occasion for this year, and I had wanted the head gamemaker of the previous years to pick who would be best for a fresh idea. I had trust in the choice, but so far, he had been particularly timid. Not a good quality for a head gamemaker. "What's on your mind?" I asked, turning to him and leaning against the window.
"Well, Romec said it was about time I conference you in about the games," He said, coming into the room and standing behind one of the chairs, seemingly to nervous to sit down in it himself. It was good that the head gamemaker would help mentor his successor. But we all knew it was for this one game, and Romec Chassity would resume his place for the next one. Maybe he was sucking up to me by helping out.
"Well, he was right," I responded to him. "What do you have in mind?"
"Something big. Something moving to every person that still breaths," He responded, tapping his fingers along the back of the chair he stood behind.
"I thought that was applied to any Quarter Quell, Mylute." My reply was quick and blunt, and I could see how easily my eyes burned into his sleeves. "Especially the 4th Quarter Quell. Especially a game where you were brought in specifically for."
"Of course President Lotus, but as you said, that would be applied. I am meaning to specify how much." He was gaining confidence - rather miraculously in my opinion. "Not to intrude on your handling of the Districts, but I personally believe that an outstanding game will be required."
"I'm curious Mylute. How come?"
"Well, I am correct to assume that we are still dealing with aftershocks from that girl," Was his response.
Silence gripped the room. The roles had almost switched. I was the one that was nervous, he was the one with the boring gaze like spears. I was the President. I had to regain control from this rookie of a gamemaker. "You mean Ms. Everdeen from the 74th?" I asked, standing up straight. He nodded slowly, his eyes locked on me. "Yes."
"Now lets recall what she did to Panem, exactly," He prodded.
"Well, she and her District companion moved the Capitol citizens with their star-crossed lovers bit. The current head gamemaker decided to let both Ms. Everdeen and Mr. Mellark 'win', and she got the Districts going. President Snow got them to calm down by ignoring the couple since, giving the Capitol a new powerful victor to shine in the light at the 3rd Quarter Quell from District 1 and having the 'Career' tributes win ever since. They've tried to gain control, but after years of slaughter from the Peacemakers, they've given up, but it still remains an upset."
"Exactly. We should take this game, and we should brand it into every single person's head to the point of smoking out any ideas of rebellion. Something that will break any soul, even that of our double winners," He suggested, an evil grin mirroring from my face to his.
"Well, what do you have in mind?" I asked. "We still have to remember we got that dusty old box of Quarter Quells waiting for us, and even I haven't read those."
"I learned something new things about those old envelopes a couple days ago," He started, stepping around the chair he had stayed hidden behind and coming to lean on the one in front of me. "First, is that they were written by the President and his close associates." He slipped his hand into his black jacket, pulling out a crisp, newly white envelope and waving it around in the air. "And second, is the fact that in all technicalities, not a single one of those was labeled with a number. They're labeled once they've been confirmed as the whatever Quarter Quell." He flipped the envelope in his hand around, showing the front was showing a sloppy-printed '100th' it. He then tossed it onto the end table between his chair and the couch.
I took it off without hesitation, opening the unsealed envelope and pulling out the paper, reading it's contents. "We can't have it there."
"Oh, I know," He said, suddenly growing innocent again and slipping himself away from the chair he had been leaning on. "That's why I brought it to you. I would've just put it in the box if I hadn't known that. I don't know why, and neither does Romec, but he said he had brought it up before and gotten rejected for the location. But that's the beauty of it - we don't tell them where it really is. We'll find an even worse-looking replica, fill it with mutts, and tell them that's all that remains."
I considered it for a moment before folding up the paper and putting it back in the envelope before handing it back to Mylute. "Very good. Seeing as you know where that box is, you can put that in yourself," I added. He simply nodded, turning to leave. "And also," I called after him, getting him to hold in the doorway. "Come back this evening, you can help me with finding this replica and designing these mutts. We'll need to get it done before the announcement of the Quarter Quell." He smiled, nodded once more, than disappeared through the doorway.
That was why Romec picked him. Whether or not he was truly timid, I don't know, though he definitely wasn't very sociable. But he was also being bold now. Clever and cunning. And if he's not timid, a good actor. The perfect makings for the head gamemaker. The Hunger Games were now 100 years in the making, and after that century, these Games would return the Districts to the fear they had the first year of the games.