Slowly the metal plates rose from the ground, ringing the Cornucopia. All the tributes glanced in surprise first at each other, then the abundance of weapons and supplies spread for everyone's tastes. They were disoriented, brought back from the realm of the dead into a terrifying new environment never to be seen before. Never has anyone saw such a mixture of times and persons.
"Welcome, tributes to The Arena.
The Capitol was tense with excitement. This year's Hunger Game was better. What more could they expect than the best people from centuries ago fighting to the death for ultimate fame? The camera panned across the tributes as they stood transfixed with shock on their metal plates. Never had such an array of people been seen before.
The camera focused on the first tribute in the line, George Washington in full military splendour with his specially tailored uniform as commander-in-chief of the Continental Army. Then Lord Horatio Nelson, with his wispy hair framing his thin pointed face in a Royal Navy blue frock coat decorated with medals and stars. A sword sheath hung from his waist but it was empty. Next in line was Julius Caesar shivering slightly in his toga as the gust of wind blowing through the Arena. Then Ramses the Great, Adolf Hitler, Genghis Khan, Mozart, Joan of Arc, Elizabeth the First and finally the camera came to a rest on Jane Austen.
"Ladies and gentlemen," boomed Caesar Flickerman, "This is the Hunger Games of the famous, where tributes fight to the death to be crowned with ultimate fame. There are no rules. And without further ado, let the Hunger Games start!"
A quite chuckled sounded behind Flickerman. "Mr. President, begging your pardon, you do realise that they are not going to adopt to the Hunger Games and fight to death?"
Another chuckle, "Then we will have to make them. I'm sure Seneca Crane would be busy."