Hello, people of the Hunger Games fandom! I'm Haymitch-the-Hobo, and this is my second fanfic that I've posted on this website. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. If I did, I'd be rich.
P.S. The text in italics is a flashback.
President Wolfe walked into the control room, his black cloak billowing behind him. Light from the computers filled the room. A Gamemaker was seated at each computer, typing away, making the last preparations for the 1st Hunger Games in thirty years.
Wolfe sauntered up to his head Gamemaker, Flux Edenthaw, and asked, "Have all of the preparations been made?" Wolfe was a tall man who towered over almost everyone he met. His hair was slicked back and auburn, his eyes a deep brown. A scar stretched itself across the white skin of Wolfe's left cheek.
Flux, a short man with reddish skin, turned around in his chair so he could face Wolfe. He scrunched his thick eyebrows, a look of worry on his face. "Are you sure you want to go through with this plan, President? I know you want to put the Districts in their place, but isn't what you've already done enough?"
Wolfe narrowed his eyes. "It isn't enough to show the Districts that I can control them. I have to show them that I can control other people from other worlds. I have to show them that I can control everything." He paused, then added, "Now, answer my question. Have the preparations been made?"
Flux turned back to his computer. "The only thing left to do is to activate the operation once we receive the signal."
Wolfe nodded, then turned away and meandered towards the door, getting lost in his thoughts as his mind drifted to the Mockingjay necklace that he wore around his throat.
It was a shabby old house in District Twelve. It had once been a great and luxurious house, but the owner had let it fall into dilapidation. The once sturdy walls were now filled with cracks and the roof was falling apart. The carpet was stained and the curtains were torn. But Wolfe didn't care. He was here on a mission.
Wolfe crept up to the door of the house, which was falling off its hinges. It was broad daylight, but it wasn't like anyone would see him. Most of the residents of District Twelve had been killed by his army's missiles. And the ones that were left wouldn't care if a lone man entered the house. They were too busy with their own affairs.
Wolfe slid through the door and through various rooms of the house until he reached the one that he knew his target would be in. It was a large bedroom. On the nightstand lay a small scrapbook. Wolfe wrinkled his nose in disgust.
Wolfe heard a flush and his victim stepped out of the restroom connected to the bedroom. She washed her hands and then her face. While she was doing this, Wolfe snuck up behind her, drew his gun, and aimed it at her head.
When the woman saw Wolfe's reflection in the mirror, she stiffened in surprise. Her hair, once brown, but now almost completely gray, matched her eyes. Her skin was plastered with wrinkles and she had shortened over the years. This woman wasn't much older than Wolfe, but life had taken its toll on her.
"Who are you?" the woman asked, eyeing Wolfe suspiciously through the mirror.
Wolfe grinned. "You should know, Miss Everdeen. After all, you were the cause of my great-grandfather's death."
The woman's eyes darted around the small space, searching for an escape route. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Wolfe chuckled darkly. "My great-grandfather was President Coriolanus Snow." The woman's mouth dropped, but before she could stutter a response, Wolfe continued, "You shattered my life. And now I've shattered yours."
"What do you mean?"
Wolfe's grin grew. "You know how Peeta and the kids disappeared a week ago?" Katniss' eyes widened in horror, for she already knew what he was going to say. "They're dead. My assassins killed them. If it makes you feel any better, they were tortured first."
"You monster!" Katniss snarled.
"If I'm a monster, then what are you?" Wolfe's tone was smug. "You've done worse than I have. You've killed more. To be honest, you'll be the first person I've killed personally."
"To be honest, I don't like you."
Wolfe spoke, "You don't have to like me because you'll be dead in a matter of seconds." His eyes drifted to a golden chain around Katniss' neck. At one point in the chain, a small bronze pin was attached. "I see that you got your pin made into a necklace."
Katniss snapped, "So?"
"I was wondering if I could have it."
Katniss clutched her necklace and growled, "You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands."
Wolfe let out a hearty laugh. "Very well." Then he fired the gun.
Wolfe stroked the Mockingjay necklace with one hand, the same grin on his face. Who knew that victory would be so sweet?
And that's the prologue! Please review!
~Haymitch-the-Hobo
