Maps. Interesting things, they are. One of the more intelligent inventions of humankind, it is said. They can show you a range of wonders, from where to go to how far away you are from home; but for these games, they'll show you something else. Something… deadly.
This one will show you where you'll meet your peril - or maybe, if you play it safe, where you'll be living for another twenty-four hours.
But don't worry little girl; I can see you trembling in the corner, your hands over your eyes. This map will also show you who, and where, to avoid.
Both a nightmare and a salvation, it lurks like a monster in the dark. It could save you. Or, it could ruin you. It's a matter of choice, your choice. And it's not solely up to you, but those who have also been sentenced to death for the pleasure of others. People just like you, who you might murder, little girl.
But we'll give you a head start.
You can move around, and for an hour you'll be as safe as you can get in the arena. That doesn't mean safe. It means 'I'm still in danger, but at least no one knows where I am for now'. For now. Powerful words, but words aren't enough in the arena.
For now, doesn't guarantee you will be safe. For now, won't keep you alive.
Once you are reaped, you are never guaranteed to be safe again. From the time you are reaped, until the time you die, you're on borrowed time. That's the only guarantee you have in the Hunger Games. For now.
Gamemaker meeting. 6 months before the 125th Hunger Games, the 5th Quarter Quell.
A cough cut through the commotion running rife through the room. As if a blanket muffled all noise, the thick silence was suffocating.
"Is everybody here now?" The voice of the head Gamemaker rang through the room, his exaggerated pronunciation sounding silly even to his fellow Capitolites. And in a way resembling the start of the very Hunger Games they were discussing, he murmured, "Then, my friends, let the meeting begin!"
He threw his arms back in an overly pompous gesture that could not be seen as anything but ridiculous. The room was littered with repressed sniggers, which were quickly muted with the impending realization of a jobless future.
Then, as if rehearsed, the once humorous figure distorted. With his facade discarded, the gaudy man that once stood in front of them moments before was gone. "How are we doing on time?" He snapped at the timid intern, who could not be much more than a year out of school. The kid was obviously not from a well to do family, with his eyes being a natural cocoa brown - a rarity for the capitol - and the still retained signs of puberty shown in the form of pimples scattered across his ghostly pale face. The only sign of any self-altercations on the boy was the blue hair and even that seemed muted.
He opened his mouth as if to answer but evidently, the head was not feeling patient.
"Have you suddenly, inexplicably turned into an avox?" He asked in a voice that would sound jovial if he wasn't but an inch away from the poor kid's face.
Everyone watched in silence at the exchange, their mouths dry. Finally, the teen managed to squeak out something akin to, "Making good time, Sir".
With a self-satisfied smirk on his face, the Head Gamemaker stepped away from the quivering intern, leaving the lingering eyes of the gathered game makers to swiftly avert their gaze from the trembling form.
He turned back to the room at large and smiled as if he hadn't just made a kid practically wet his pants.
"Now, the arena design?" This time, his voice lacked the poisonous edge, perhaps because the person he was talking to was a Gamemaker, or perhaps because when he was talking to her, he never once looked straight at her face, his eyes preferring to explore other parts of her.
"It's progressing well, thank you," she said, "We'll have the arena ready within two months and then it's just a matter of adding the cameras." He nodded absentmindedly, still not focusing on her eyes.
"And the mutations?" He asked, almost reluctantly turning away from her to glare at another game maker.
"Most are completed and being bred. One is in the final stages of design. It should be done within the next week."
He gave a nod of indifference and went around the room, asking for checks on everything. Everything was seemingly on schedule and finally, he gave an approving nod of satisfaction.
It was the most praise they'd received from him in a very long time.
"Time?" He asked the intern.
"On schedule Sir, we should be wrapping up the meeting shortly."
His voice came out as nothing louder than a squeak, still embarrassed from earlier.
A petite young woman with long glossy black hair and yellow heels the size of the sun and twice as deadly looking strolled into the room with the effortless kind of confidence you only get from years of practice.
"Mr. Head Gamemaker Sir." She spat out. "The president has requested your presence in his office immediately after the meeting is over."
The Head game maker turned in his chair. "Thank you. Please tell him I will be arriving shortly."
The woman stalked off, her heels clacking against the carpeted floor.
"I best be going now." He said, pushing in his chair, and giving his fellow game makers a final nod. "Keep working, and I'll get my secretary to send you the information for the next meeting as soon as possible. Don't start slacking now. That's how failures are made.".
He walked off with a huff, towards the president's office.
It was on the top of 4 floors on the presidential mansion. Navy blue curtains hung elegantly against the seemingly golden wallpaper. Towards the back of the room, sat a desk with a small, stocky man behind it.
His name was President Monciere and he was not one you would call humble. He was proud of his nation and everything he had done for it and he had never believed in humility. If he had done something amazing, why not tell people?
"Good evening Mr. President." The Gamemaker said in his most professional tone of voice. The air of importance had been eradicated.
"Good evening. I've come to talk to you about your job position."
"This is it…This is it." The Gamemaker thought. He was finally getting promoted to the presidential advisor!
"I no longer think you're a good fit for this position."
The gamemakers face fell. "What?" He almost yelled but managed to keep himself in check. "But… But… Everything has been going so well!" he protested. Surely, he was being tested.
"I am aware, I believe I have found somebody better suited for the position." President Monciere stated firmly. The look in his eyes was not cruel, but of cold detachment. In that second the Gamemaker realized he had never been important. He had never been anything more than a pawn.
Unnoticed to him in his state of devastation, the Peacekeepers standing at the door positioned their weapons at the past Gamemaker's head.
"Permission to fire sir?" The Peacekeeper on the right questioned.
"Permission granted."
And with that, a bullet was shot into the previous head Gamemakers head, and he slumped to the ground, a look of betrayal on his features.
"Take him away and send for Lady Amiria" The president commanded.
2 minutes later, a beautiful woman with platinum blonde hair and emerald green eyes, a color so stunning it almost hurt to look into them, swayed into the room, towards the president
. She couldn't have been much older than 25 with almost angelic features and her beautiful face smiling seductively.
"The job is yours, my dear."
She smiled and planted a kiss on the 50-year-old president's cheek.
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-Ella, Nargie and Moons.