Justus Sharpe, Head Gamemaker
I watch as Aconite overtakes me, walking up to the entrance of the office building. In answer to the sensor at the entrance, a crystal glass lift sinks down towards her. If you didn't know, you would think it was hovering in mid-air; their are no strings attached. As the door automatically slides open, she steps in, closing it behind her. She doesn't wait.
I watch her rise up behind the glass doors. Immaculate make-up, hair highlighted just subtly lighter than her usual brown, clothes so smooth even an iron couldn't have done the job. It's perfection.
It's not hard to tell, though. Her perfectly smooth face, the product of plastic surgery that shouldn't be necessary at her age, if not from years of worries and laughter, emotions she tries too hard to hide. Because that's the thing about masks. They are always hiding something.
And you would not think that someone with that much capablity, that much power, would have any need for masks. But Aconite, it seems, is constantly trapped in her own Hunger Games. Games that are her life.
It's almost too easy. And that's tragic, really; you would think that, having put that much time into getting as high up as I have, I would at least get a bit of fun in the finale.
She is a sheep dressed as a wolf, really. A wolf whose perfectly combed fur could not withstand even one hunt.
No matter; I have plenty of distractions. I wait patiently for the lift to arrive again, and get in. Just then, Lucia Bright's car pulls up. The vice game-maker; energetic, eager and full of ideas. She has a certain ruthlessness too, which I love about her. But she doesn't hide anything. No need; this is exactly where a person like her belongs. Under my control.
So I smile, and wait for her to catch me up before closing the lift doors behind us.
She's excited. "So, I was thinking - forests are so over-done, right? People will be expecting the usual pre-quarter-quell fob-off. So, what is we throw them off the scent? Give them a completely different arena, something no-one will be expecting. I've got a list of ideas, here - " She takes out a folder, bright pink and covered with pretty stickers that are less than appropriate to decorate a document full of notes planning a massacre. As she rifles through, notes fly out everywhere. I quickly stoop to pick them up, smiling slightly as I see their contents. Immaculately planned notes and drawings, full of detail that does not match the owner's scatty demeanor at all.
I hand them back to her, nodding. "Exactly what I was thinking. Only - I reckon, there's room for a couple more twists in there, don't you? Something to really throw people off."
Lucia beams as if she's just won the lottery. "Yes!"
All the better, if she agrees. I can already tell that by the time the meeting begins, she'll be full of it, bursting to tell everyone the plans. Which I am sure will be enough to convince everyone, including our glorious president, that Lucia is the one responsible for most of the ideas. Perfect.