The next escort to smile dauntingly at the cameras treated the reaping stage as a catwalk, her wide hips were swaying until she reached the end, before blowing a sloppy kiss to her frightened and disturbed audience of District 10. Leaning forward and tugging at the corner of her mouth to create a joking half smile as she attempted to gracefully dip her hand into the bowl to pluck out a name, only to have all of her otherworldly bracelets clang noisily on the glass.

"Pea Adams!" She read, excitement colouring her annoying voice and stardom shining in her eyes.

A pretty, tanned girl with dark brown hair stiffly walked up to the stage and shot a helpless look around the square with her large, brown eyes before the dark eyelashes curled over and hid them from view. She looked sickly with fear, hate, and sorrow as she sauntered quietly to the side of the stage, passing by the escort with no acknowledgement to the annoying woman. This girl, Pea Adams, did not look capable to kill an ant, let alone a person.

Weak. I wrote it down and studied my list. Strong, small, brave, stupid, foolish, and loved. We had so much to look forward to this year even with minimal careers. It gave me the excited rush all over again but it was soon replaced by a terrified sort of feeling. What if my idea for the arena wasn't good enough? What if they didn't want to kill each other? What if I became too attached to my tributes?

It had happened in years past, a promising new Head Gamemaker would step into his position ready and willing to continue the greatness of the games only to back down or go easy on his or her tributes. It caused a great disruption among the Gamemaker Society because the Head Gamemaker would ultimately try to sabotage the games, meaning that they must be removed immediately. Snow was never happy when that happened and often wanted an extra amount of fighting and tricks as a makeup for the grievances that were made.

What if I was like that? What if suddenly I became all too attached to my tributes because I couldn't bear the weight? Everyone knew what happened to removed Gamemakers and it made me shudder to think that my fate could easily be just the same. "No," I said out loud to myself. "I have worked too hard to get here, I've wanted this position for all my life and I will not allow my pity for the Districts to cloud my judgement." I clenched and unclenched my fists several times before I looked back down at my notes. "I will not now, nor ever, pick favourites or feel sympathy for those who are fighting. They deserve it."

I steeled myself against the inevitable occurrence that was to come, unfortunately I could only postpone it for so long. Eventually all Gamemakers lose their ability to remain unbiased and not pick favourites. Just as eventually all tradition must break itself.

The female escort ran her slender fingers through her glossy hair, giving us a glimpse of the dark green hair hidden behind the blond and blue layers. Straightening her fluffy skirt, she held up a new name and announced it officially, keeping her eyes on the camera.

"Arrett Hayes!"

The escort's eyes darted to the crowd, hoping to catch the new tribute as he made his way up the stairs that often represented no turning back.

A small, pale boy with strawberry blond hair appeared from the 12's, his head was held high and his eyes showed no emotion. He had freckles thrown sporadically across his face and his eyes looked like they belonged to a cat, with a green so vivid it was almost unreal and narrowed in a way that made one think that he saw everything. This boy appeared strong in every sense, he was small but had a good build to him and a hardy stride as he walked. He shot a smile at the older tribute next to him.

I was astounded by this boy's optimism when faced with his current predicament and made a note to watch his progress as the games went on. I certainly had a feeling about this one.

"Let's hope that the District 10 tributes can win for us this year!" announced the escort as she started off a round of scattered applause from the solemn crowd. The screen flickered to where the District 11 crowd members were waiting.

Reaching in and scrabbling around for a name slowly, the old escort managed to grip a slip of paper and hold it up to his yellow eyes.

"Jenna Reed!"

A girl, with blond hair so pale it looked white, was ascending the steps when someone made the daring decision to volunteer.

"I volunteer in place of Jenna," she shyly told the escort and the watching crowd. A deep and sorrowful moan erupted from the back, where the family members were standing. The newer tribute pushed Jenna aside gently to climb the steps in her place.

"What's your name?" Asked the escort, bending down to appear the same height as the tribute.

"Selena Yodis." As she spoke, her long hair blew back, a mixture of darkness and a dull red. Her bright blue eyes shone out in comparison to her pale skin.

The escort slowly straightened up, his face a painful grimace, and shuffled over to where the boys reaping bowl stood. He did look a bit old to still be escorting tributes, I remember watching him when I was little. But I suppose he did a well enough job.

"Kenzie Sykes!" He called, his voice cracking.

A small boy from the front stumbled up, glancing around at the staring faces, his short and straw like hair ruffled and his brown eyes rounded with fear. The escort threw a subdued and aged smile at the boy before grimly looking up to focus his eyes on a camera.

The last District, 12, was always the hopeless one, with only one, very drunk mentor sleeping at the back of the stage. I almost felt sorry for the future tributes as it was obvious that Haymitch could never keep a tribute alive, but it was hilarious to see him lazing about the stage and making a fool of himself. This year 12 had a new escort who I am told is named Effie Trinket. She bounced onto the stage and straight to the girl's reaping bowl. Her bright pink curls were bouncing everywhere.

"Ren Zaira!"

A dark haired, grey eyed girl with a signifying olive skin tone kept up a brisk walk to the front, her thick hair flowing along behind her, the typical Seam girl. She held a serious look on her face as she reached the stage, every step bringing her closer to Haymitch. Suddenly, he snapped up, waking from his sleep and jolting upright with a loud half-grunt, half-unintelligible yell. Looking around to see what had happened, he spotted the tribute, her eyes round and her mouth forming a wide, surprised "O". Effie tried to carry on with the reaping but Haymitch wanted his say on the reaping so far.

"She's not much of a looker, is she?" he scoffed, making an awkward situation even worse with his unruly attitude and unrestrained mouth. A gasp emanated from the crowd who swivelled their heads to the tribute and the mentor. The tension was so thick I could have cut it with a knife from where I sat.

I burst out laughing so loudly that the sofa wobbled. The tribute looked mortified before pulling her face together in a mask of coldness and hatred towards her soon to be mentor and Effie's horror framed her face. She turned to the cameras and then back to Haymitch and then to the peacekeepers who say by calmly, making no move to deal with a barely sober Haymitch.

After a moment of utter stillness, Effie dipped her hand into the boy's bowl, her face still showing the remnants of shock.

"Jon Neal," she uttered in a quiet voice.

The tribute moving to the dais had blond, almost white, wavy hair. He was pale with blue eyes and a cheesy grin painted on his face. He strolled up to the stage, turning to wave at his adoring fans before stepping up and grabbing the microphone off poor Effie.

"I'd just like to say what a pleasure it's been to live in District 12. I am sorry to..." Effie held her hand out for the microphone, impatiently, making a noise at the back of her throat, the tribute calmly gave it back. Effie gave a small wave at the camera before turning to speak to the tributes. The screen switched back to Caesar, for him to say a few concluding words about how this year was going to be the best year ever, before turning itself off.

Well, this year's games had all the characters, it needs its setting. Ordering some chocolate and curry, my special brain food, I got to work on the specially made traps. With me in Head Gamemaker's position, this was going to be the best games ever. Plucking some sheets from my desk, I started to write the letter to President Snow about my finishing touches with the special arena for this year. And prayed that he would love it.

...

From your chosen Gamemaker,

Seneca Crane

Reaping- Check

Thank you so much for all of the reviews- they make me feel loved

Also, a big thank you to my Beta, The-Idea-Guru, again