President Forest's POV

I am the first woman to ever be President of Panem. This is my second year in that position. And I plan on using it for all that it is worth.

I am sitting at my desk. It is a great mahogany desk that has been used by every President that Panem has ever had. There is a woman sitting across from me. She is one of the few people whom I don't feel like brutally killing. This is lucky for her. What's lucky for me is the fact that the next Hunger Games were to be commencing soon. The part of me that constantly thirsted for blood was finally about to be satiated.

"Now, Trinity." I say to my gamemaker. "You know how impressed I was and am by last year's Games-"

"Yes. And I thank you for that,"

"Well, they were amazing. I'm not denying that. But I have a little idea for this year's. I want to do something a bit different then what we've been doing,"

"And what would that be, Ma'am?"

"You know how they say that less is more?"

"Um, no. I've never heard that before."

"Oh, well they say it more in the districts than they do here."

"Ah, that makes sense."

"Anyway, I want this to be a simple Games."

"S… simple?" I see her tilt her head in confusion.

"Yes. Simple. I want a plain, mundane arena. This year, I want the tributes to fight each other, not us,"

I see understanding flash across her face as she smiles. "I can do that. But, what do you mean about them not fighting us?"

"What I mean is that I want this to be a Games where nearly every tribute dies at the hands of another. I don't want more than a couple natural, or not so natural deaths." She nods her head in comprehension. "Though, I do as always reserve the right to kill off whoever annoys me."

"But of course! It wouldn't be a proper Games without that," I can see her beginning to get excited about this year's games.

"So, just to make sure I'm clear, Trinity, I need this arena to be as uncomplicated as possible. I need there to be enough food so that most of them can survive long enough to be killed. I need the mutts to be kept to a minimum. But I need to tension maximized. Can you do that for me?"

She stares into space for a moment to gather her thoughts and then she replies, "Of course I can. Leave it to me. I think I know exactly what to do,"

"Good. Very good. Now, please, get out."

She does as I say and leaves. I am alone again. I look outside of my window and watch the crowds of Capitol citizens hustle and bustle about. They all think they're something important. If only I could show them that I have the power to squash them as easily as I do the tributes from the districts. Alas, I cannot do so without being put under the threat of a rebellion. No, to keep my power I would have to leave them be.

I can feel my heart start to race in anticipation for the Games. These are going to be good. Not only good, but some of the best ever. I'll make sure of it. Though, I must admit that I do wonder what Trinity has in mind. There are many different ways that she could make a basic arena. After all, she has anything money can buy at her disposal. After what she did with last year's Games, I have no doubt that she'll be able to pull these off fabulously. Even so, my mind races with curiosity at what she is planning. I suppose I will just have to wait. But waiting would make me like the common ones. And that was something I certainly would not stand for.

No, I will make sure I know the moment Trinity is finished with the plans. I must know as soon as possible. In fact, I must know now.

I ring for my secretary. "Yes, Madame President?" she inquires as she walks into my office.

"Retrieve Trinity for me."

"Right away, Madame,"

I turn back to the window. I can't help but thinking about how meaningless all of those common folks' lives were. All they did was modify their bodies in as many different ways as possible, spend lavishly on unnecessary material goods, and gossip about what everyone else is doing and buying. What a pitiful life.

"Yes?" Trinity asks from behind me.

"Are you done yet?" I ask as I turn to face her.

"Well, no. There's still lots to be-"

"When will you be done?"

"Well, it's, uh, hard to say exactly."

"Tell me everything that you have in mind. I want to know it all. I want to know now."

My mind reels as she tells me her plans for the arena. Her ideas are magnificent as always. Being temporarily at ease, I dismiss her. I turn to my mirror and peer inside. My blonde/gray hair is cropped short, as always. I hate to deal with it, so the shorter it is, the better. The skin on my face is beginning to sag from my age and the stress of this job. Though they've offered, I vehemently refuse to have any surgery done to make my face young again. I will not have the mind and soul of a 55-year-old woman with the face of a 20-year-old. I see my pale, gray eyes staring back at me. There are bags underneath them and they give off a rather pensive look. I suppose it comes with the territory though.

I turn away from the mirror and sit at my desk. As I begin to sort through the paperwork I have on it, I can't stop thinking about this year's Games. I simply cannot wait to see the blood of 23 children spilled all over my arena. Just that thought alone warms my heart.

Hey, everyone. So here's the first chapter of my first fic. I'm working on writing the Reapings right now and I will probably upload them 2-3 at a time. The first batch should be up in a couple of days.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Hunger Games. All Hunger Games related material belongs to Suzanne Collins. These are my original characters however the setting and premise are those of Suzanne Collins.

This story is rated T for mild language, sexual situations, and violence.