Chapter One: Out with the Old, In with the New

Let no one weep for me, or celebrate my funeral with mourning; for I still live, as I pass to and fro through the mouths of men -Quintus Ennius

CAPITOL: Yttrium, 30

Slowly walking, heart racing in anticipation, and trembling slightly. All the signs of a dead man walking to his grave stood out like beakers on the man. What was he to do when the two large men enter his home requesting him to come with them to go to see President Snow? They were there to make sure he came and didn't escape; he was going to die soon. He knew it. He heard stories; he knew what happened to the last Gamemaker that came before him. It is early along enough that Arena really hasn't started to be built or even had a finished blueprint of it, they could replace him with a snap of fingers with no consequences and he knew it.

Yttrium just couldn't bring himself to be able to walk to his death prideful. He was a shameful mess.

"Right this way." One of the men says to him opening a door with the two of them on each side of it waiting for him to enter the room to his death. They didn't call him sir either? Any other time he would be enraged they didn't treat him with even the respect of calling him Mr. Jones or Sir. He knows why they are so informal though Why respect someone about to be killed for failing to please Snow? To them he is just dirt.

He stands frozen for a moment, grim thoughts still flashing through his thoughts as the men both harshly shove him through the door. It is Snow's garden, roses of all shade laced the walls and grew towards the ceiling magnificently their thrones the only thing acting as anything to remind Yttrium of there danger. He could fall into one of these bushes and Snow would probably just watch him struggle. The thought runs a shiver down his spine as he shuffles towards Snow who is sitting in a seat admiring his roses.

When the President notices the Gamemaker he doesn't smile or wave him forward.

"You have failed me." He says looking towards him those cold stern unloving eyes staring right into Yttrium. He was a whimpering fool now.

"I know Sir." He says going from honor of being Head Gamemaker whittled down to a pathetic fool so quickly.

"Last year you sent an assistant to pitch me the Arena idea." He says. Yttrium hasn't not regretted that one-minute of the day since it happened. "I told her that I wasn't pleased with the amount of days the Games lasted for the 60th, told her it needed to be at least twelve days. Now tell me how long did the Games last?" He asks never breaking that deadly stare.

"Nine." Squeaked Yttrium.

"Not twelve." He says. "Now that assistant of yours- Xia- knows I said twelve. I know she told you twelve yet still you disrespect me." Snows growls and Yttrium nearly falls to the ground ready to beg and beg for mercy while he knows the likely hood of him managing to wretch some kind of mercy from this merciless man would be impossible.

"I am so sorry." Yttrium pleads.

Snows groans, "Such a weak man you are. Maybe a while ago I would allow you to go on giving you one last chance, even though you don't deserve one. But my son has married to a woman whose father is also in a position of high power. Not only does her father love the Games but so does his daughter also. I can't have anything even going slightly wrong this year, I want to go all out this year to bless their marriage." He says.

Yttrium nods, he knew how much pressure there would be. "I can make the best Arena you have ever see."

"Yes but I know very well who was the brains last year, who came up with the idea. Your assistant, maybe I shall give the job to her." Snow says the smirk on his face, it is obvious to even the panicked man that he is toying with him.

"Please let me live." Yttrium cries falling to his knees sobbing.

"See the thing is, I don't think you deserve to live." Snows says still perched on his chair looking as powerful as ever as the two men pick of the sobbing man by his arms dragging him away. He kicks and tries to squirm free but he is no match.

No this can't be happening! Yttrium thinks to himself. But it is, this is happening. He will die. They will kill him just as Snow finds fit.

They say no tribute escapes the Arena. Oh they are oh so right, no tribute truly escapes. Even Victors can never rid the ghosts of their time in the Arena. But they are forgetting about a group of people. People like Yttrium himself who has suffered through so much stress and aggravation to try and please the President in hope he would not be slaughtered. The thing is even Gamemakers can't escape the grasps of the Games.

Escape just isn't an Option.


CAPITOL: Xia, 25

It has been ten days since I received the card. A card that unraveled my future and pushed me into a whole new world full of wealth and anything I could possibly imagine. All it took to get me there is the death of my former employer Yttrium. The first day I couldn't stop shaking. What a year to start off, all this pressure with the President's son being married and all to such a huge fan.

I wanted to sink into that mattress and never appear again.

When I was a little girl I dreamed of that day, when it came I didn't know what to do with myself. I didn't want this job like that. There was no option though. I am Head Gamemaker now and I needed an idea that would put this Arena above the last few ones. But how?

Over those five days after my little, "Day off" I watched anything I could, searching for any sort of inspiration that could light the way to actually surviving to the next year.

Then like a light bulb suddenly appeared over my head in a moment of inspirational glory I managed to gather an idea possibly crazy in to work. The budget for the Arena was much higher and that made it possible. That was Day Six and over the last four days to today I plotted feeling worse for each trap I planned to bring death to all those kids.

There was no choice though; this was the only option I had. We never really are given choice. We don't choose whom we are born to, or where, or in what situation we are born to. It just falls together and is decided by someone of higher position. See it has become that choices are done by those above you, and the choices you make are for those below you. How magnificent it must be to be someone of highest power to actually have a chance to make your own decision and how miserable it must be to be of the lowest power and decide nothing at all except if you will have the will to go on.

Today I stand with a folder in hand trying to stand tall and not break down, as I get ready to pitch my idea like I did a year ago. One now I have moved up the ranks, yet I still feel utterly powerless even when twenty four children's lives are decided by me.

"Sir?" I ask trying to get Snow's attention. He separated his glance from a paper on his desk up at me giving me a twisted smile that was in no way something of joy. This wicked man doesn't have joy. Maybe when he is able to express his power, but that is not real joy in my eyes. That is something diabolical. That is something much more sickening that I fear I will develop. That outcome will come from choices though and naturally I will not make those choices. Not until the very last one, the choice to embrace the emotion.

I fear if it gets to that point I won't be able to say no to taking on that side of me I have tried so hard to push down.

"I have the pitch for the upcoming Arena." I tell him feeling squeamish.

"Place it on my desk." He orders calmly. I nod placing it on the elegant desk and go back to standing tall my hands behind my back.

"Would you like me to give you a summary of it sir?" I ask trying to hold my manners. I was in the same position last year, but then I was younger. Less experienced. Scared. My wisdom has grown since then (or so I like to believe).

"Go ahead," He says staring at me making me want to do anything but hold his stare.

"I wanted to make it grand, something to celebrate the marriage of your son. So I decided just one Arena wouldn't be enough." Now I have his attention. "I was thinking it could be an array of different Arenas. They would start off at one place and after four people die it would trigger a reaction to bring a train to transport them to the next Arena." I tell him.

He nods his head, "Not much of a bloodbath then." He says. "And if they decide to not get on this train?"

"All excellent questions. Well the train would come when the Anthem would play and if they don't leave lets just say they won't last long." I say forcing myself to smirk after that. I sound like a maniac. But who cares?

He nods. "Not too bad for your first Arena." He says. "But it can't just be not too bad, this Arena is of great importance to me. I need it to be great." He tells me

"It will be." I respond to him.

"It better, or you might not get a chance of redemption." He says and I give a sullen nod. My first year and I am already being threatened with the possibility of death.


War does not determine who is right- only who is left -Bertrand Russel


A/N- First thing, chapters will be much longer. Second thing, I write in first-person usually it just so happened I choose third-person for that first part of the intro.

OK so just a quick introduction to myself. This is my fourth story, fourth SYOT. I have learned a lot of things from my past stories so I do have some experience. If you want to see how I write check out my other stories though a clearer update of how this story will go in terms of quality would be to read Every Man for Himself. This would be a third story in a sort of trilogy. References will be made and past Victors from my story will be mentioned but you don't have to read the other stories to understand this one. And you can call me Sparrow (naturally that is not my real name though)

Rules-

-EVERYONE CAN HAVE ONE TRIBUTE AND ONE BLOODBATH TRIBUTE: You don't have to have a bloodbath but it does help the chances of your tribute surviving. The only way you can have two tributes and one not be a bloodbath is if they are connecting in some way.

-NO SUES! This isn't first come first, so try to make the quality of your tribute high.

-EVEN BLOODBATHS NEED TO HAVE FORM AND HAVE QUALITY, after all I have to write for them up to the bloodbath. And not everyone Bloodbath has to be weak! Also careers can't be bloodbaths, sorry but I have my reasons.

-REVIEW; If you want your tribute to even have a chance you need to review, sorry it is only fair.

-PM TRIBUTES TO ME: No tributes through review! And please use my form only

-NO RECYCLED TRIBUTES: Your tribute must be original and only for this story. Trust me I will find out and your tribute won't have a chance.

-IF YOUR TRIBUTE IS FROM DISTRICT ONE, TWO, OR FOUR THEY HAVE TO BE A CAREER: Once again sorry but I have my reasons

The form is on my profile; this syot will be very legal in terms of rules. So only pm tributes I will ignore any tribute that is through review!

And yes I know according to cannon they said who the Victor was for the 62nd Hunger Games but for different reasons this will be the 62nd anyway.

District One

F: Ecstasy Rapture, 16 Dramatic Gleek

M: Burgundy "Burg" Platt, 17 ATaleTale

District Two:

F: Alexis Ryker, 18 richards25

M: Malice Alen

District Three:

F: Mae Juniper, 17 KicktotheTeeth

M: Jean Adric, 16 Chaos in her Wake

District Four:

F: Monica Davenport, 18

M: Caleb Depths, 18 ProjectInitiates

District Five:

F: Fennec Gray, 14 mangesboy01

M: Aeron Than, 17 theRyden96

District Six:

F: Cara Meridius, 18 SweetNature

M: Elian Coen, 14 Oryans12

District Seven:

F: Lily Excavase, 16 .Cassie

M: Mason Excavase, 16 .Cassie

District Eight:

F: Enya Mathioas, 15 Pika and Olive's Adventure

M: Than Jerralds, 18 Stalking Dream

District Nine:

F: Rosie-Anne Herandez, 12

M: Micah Trace, 16 Oryans12

District Ten:

F: Corrie Rivers, 18

M: Cavallo Hernadez-Caballos, 18

District Eleven:

F: Akua Scintillant, 15 The Dramatic Gleek

M: Harsh Greene, 17 NorthEastChild

District Twelve:

F: Ash Kelley, 17 Hollow Places

M: Everest Tames, 18 Sparrowcries