MONICA EINSBURG, Head Gamemaker

"No."

Monica Einsburg pushed the file away from her with so much force it slid across the glass surface of the table and slipped from the edge. When it fell crashing to the ground, the Gamemaker who compiled the file emitted a loud gasp and dropped to his knees to collect the fallen and displaced paper. It had flown two or three metres away from where the file fell and currently the man was scrambling like a child to collect the remnants.

The Head Gamemaker threw her head in her hands to muffle and agonised scream. Four hours. Four hours they had all conversed to try and reach a decision. First the ideas were reasonable but impractical. Then the ideas were practical but unreasonable. But now? Now every idea uttered made Monica want to burst into loud and unrestrained tears; she felt fit to explode completely with the amount of anger she possessed. She watched as one of the Gamemakers frantically gathered his physical manifestation of crushed hope before she cast a glance to those still seated. One shy look at their idol was enough for them to know that they should not move a muscle; it was silent and the crowd seated around the table averted their eyes from the scene and from their Head Gamemaker, looking only at the floor with sombre interest.

The man had sat down, red in the face and chewing his lip. His eyes flittered towards Monica, then to his co-workers, then to the floor. After a prolonged period of absolute silence where no one said a single word, the moron raised his eyes. Their eyes met for just a moment, and as they did, Monica smiled.

And immediately the man had fallen to the ground to her right, grasping both her hands, tears streaming down his face, how sad, how pitiful. Snot ran down his nose and saliva frothed and spilled from his mouth as he made a desperate attempt at salvation. He bent his head and howled like a beast. Tears splashed onto Monica's hands but they remained as cold as stone, her face remained as emotionless as stone.

He was dragged out of the room kicking and screaming, crying and yelling as if his life depended on it; kicking and screaming, crying and yelling that he needed this job, how was he going to support his family now, he had seven kids? But you see, Monica had heard such protestations before and she didn't believe herself to be cold hearted, not in the least bit so. In the end, their inadequacy would ruin the Hunger Games; it wouldn't run as smoothly, see. She was not cold-hearted – she was respected – see how they all respected her now!

She dismissed them all from the room with a nod for she could not tolerate any more moronic thought. She needed peace and quiet in her own space, where she was sure the only thoughts present would be inspiring and far superior to that of another's. She couldn't, for the life of her, postulate even one successful idea towards this year's Hunger Games, which she promised the citizens of Panem as "the greatest they had ever seen". It was her fourth year as Head Gamemaker and she did not want to resign, not yet, not until she had really made her mark in history.

She yawned loudly and slowly, tilting her head back as she did so. Within eyesight behind her lay the filing cabinet full of what Monica liked to call "last-minute repairs". These files contained options to use only in case of emergency, full of the best and worst ideas ever given in over ninety-nine conferences.

The president was counting on Monica. Monica could not let the president down.

Standing up and opening the cabinet, Monica took a file and looked inside. She scanned over the page restlessly, for she had always disliked reading and she was growing impatient, and you wouldn't like her if she was impatient, for she would get sad, then she would get angry and then someone would mysteriously disappear. So her keen and childlike eyes scanned the contents of one of the files. And as soon as she read the words dancing on the paper, the corners of her lips curled into a smile. Her countenance, had anyone been in the room to witness it, bore a sinister intrigue that could easily have been more frightening than any of her actions, for it was a smile of secrecy.

It was hard being the Head Gamemaker, but Monica was not ordinary. Not in the least.

Another update? Before June? Sympathy, what is this?

Yes, here is another update for you. A little short like before, but hopefully this chapter gave you a taste of our lovely Head Gamemaker for this year's Games. I think it's clear to say that I think you all are going to love to hate her. What are your first impressions? I would love to know.

I am still accepting tributes! Thank you to all who have submitted and reviewed; I love reading your creations and have been thoroughly impressed with what I have seen so far. The deadline for applications is still the 1st June, although this may be changed if I don't receive suitable tributes before this date – please check my profile for updates.

As I have said before, this is not first come, first served, so if a tribute has been submitted for the district you like, you can still submit for that district.

I think that's everything! I hope you enjoyed this chapter; please review, if you can!