Morning/afternoon/evening.

This is my first time writing a fanfiction in around five years, so I'm hoping it's not absolutely awful. I'm planning on this fic being the length of a full length novel and will be posting new chapters at least weekly.

Please review- constructive criticism is always appreciated!

Quintillian Nero sat at his desk, his chin resting on his clasped hands. He stared intently at the hologram displayed before him; a hellish scene of fire and explosions. Amongst the flames, shadows could be seen. Some running, some lying still on the ground. Others were being beaten by imposing silhouettes in identical white uniforms. Nero watched as one of the white figures raised a baton and brought it down on the head of one of the cowering creatures, hard. Nero smiled.

There came a knock at the door.

"Enter." He uttered, not looking up from the devastation that emanated from his mahogany desk.

After a short pause, the door opened, slowly. A tall, slender woman stepped into the room, her hands fiddling nervously with the hem of her skirt.

"Your guests are here, Mr. President." Nero raised his eyes and silently surveyed the trembling woman who stood opposite him. She was new. His previous assistant had met an unpleasant end when the District 13 rebels had attempted to storm his offices. An unfortunate loss-it had taken Nero years to train her to prepare him a decent coffee. He had very select tastes. The new assistant fidgeted uncomfortably under the President's stony gaze. She was afraid of him. Good, that was a start. After a few more moments, Nero spoke.

"Send them in," the President advised. The woman nodded and turned to leave, her relief visible. "And Coral…" The assistant froze, her shoulders tensing. Nero suppressed a grin as the woman looked over her shoulder. He pointed to the mug of coffee on his desk. "I don't take sugar."

A few minutes later, a small group of imposing individuals clad in all-white uniforms were seated in a tight semi-circle in front of the president's desk.

"I would imagine that you are wondering why I have gathered you here today," Nero mused from behind his desk. "The rebellion has almost been extinguished. District 13 has been obliterated. The Agitators have been executed. Most of the districts have returned to their working state." The president paused to collect the visitors in his measured gaze. "And yet…" He pushed his chair back and stood, hands gripping the lapels of his suit jacket.

"There are still murmurs of dissidence trickling out from a few of the districts. Every day there comes news of yet another small rebellion; workers in Nine stealing grain, miners in Twelve refusing to work…and today citizens of District One took it upon themselves to withhold produce. District One." He slammed his fist down on the desk. With a wave of his other hand over the projector, the recording that had been playing earlier cast itself into the semi-circle. Each of the faces in the room watched the recording, some with an expression of fear, others of disgust—most of anger.

"If even District One, one of our closest allies, is starting to turn against us, just imagine the turmoil brewing in the outlying districts." Nero sank into his chair and gathered his emotions. With a fluid motion of his right hand, he extinguished the projection. "You better have some earth-shatteringly (just as an explanation, one hyphen is used to separate two words that are meant to be together, and two hyphens are to create a pause—do not put a space after the hyphens.) brilliant solutions to this little problem."

An uneasy silence was held for a few seconds. One of the uniformed figures cleared its throat.

"Mass executions?"

Nero sighed and fixed the speaker with a glare. He was on the far right, rather scrawny compared to the rest of the cohort. Like a rat, Nero thought. "Have we not been performing mass executions since before the rebellions began?" The man in white didn't reply. The president raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Y…yes?" replied the rat man.

"And have they made any discernible dent on the wilfulness of the Districts?"

"N-no, Sir."

"No. And why is that?" the President opened the question out to the rest of the room.

"It just spurs them on. Makes them more determined," a female voice from the center of the group.

"Indeed, Ms. Ayser." conceded Nero. "As Peacekeepers, it is your job to keep the peace, as the title would suggest. You have not been fulfilling this role recently. This is your last opportunity." He gave Ms. Ayser a meaningful stare, his voice suddenly losing its usual gloss of benevolent concern. "If we have not devised a solution by the close of this meeting, you will not be leaving this room alive." Willow Ayser shifted uncomfortably in her seat. More silence.

"Ms. Ayser, as you are Head Peacekeeper, I will be looking to you to formulate a suitable plan. I am sure you will try your hardest." Nero leaned back into his chair.

"Yes, Sir," replied Willow confidently. If she was nervous, there was no sign of it in her expression. "What we need is some way to show the citizens in the Districts that we have absolute power. Some way to destroy their high spirits indefinitely."

"And some way to keep the Capitol contented," chimed in a third Peacekeeper. Nero listened, expressionless.

"The children," interjected a fourth. "We could execute their children." Ayser frowned.

"We're trying to squash a rebellion, not ignite one. The District people would die for their children."

"True," replied the fourth speaker, "but what if we removed their power completely? Took the children out of their districts and forced them to kill each other? We could televise it live in the Districts."

"I like the thinking, Flavius, but I think that would still lead to an uprising… and even the citizens of the Capitol would be enraged watching children slaughter each other on live TV…" mused Ayser.

"Make it a game—a reality show. The last kid standing wins their life." suggested a fifth Peacekeeper. There was silence while the group considered the possibility. All but forgotten, Nero remained behind his desk, the hint of a smile tickling the corners of his mouth.

"That could work…" Ayser was suddenly animated. "Really play on the reality show element. A big event, like a holiday of sorts. Force the citizens to sacrifice their children to the Capitol and treat them like heroes. Make them celebrate the death of their own offspring. Give them hope that they might return…Yes…Yes! That could work!"

Nero cleared his throat. Ayser started.

"I trust that you will be able to make the suitable preparations to hold these…these "hunger games" in three months time?" inquired the President, face once again completely blank.

"That's not enough time!" protested Ayser. "There's so much to-" Nero narrowed his eyes. "-do…" Ayser bit her lip. "But I'm sure we'll be ready."

"Excellent." murmured Nero, to himself more than to his company. "Make the announcement during tonight's news. Thank you for your time. You are excused."

The Peacekeepers stood to leave, and one by one filed out of the office, until only Willow remained.

"Willow," uttered Nero.

"Yes, Sir?" replied the head peacekeeper.

"I am holding you entirely responsible for the success of these games. If they have their intended effect, you will be rewarded greatly. If not, you will suffer the consequences."

Willow swallowed. "Yes, Sir. I'm sure the games will be sufficient to placate the Districts. You have my word."

"Good." Again, Willow turned to leave. "And Willow?" called the President of Panem.

"Yes, Sir?"

"May the odds be ever in your favour."