(This is kinda short...)
"Have they entered the Capitol yet?" A voice demanded. "Has he returned?! Answer me, Gordian!"
One couldn't blame the Gamemaker for not answering. Awkwardly, he stood in a dark corner of the president's den, his eyes yearning to jerk back and forth to make sure there were no hidden eyes. He was very scared of the President indeed, but he had no intention of showing it.
"Yes sir, he has returned, just this evening." Gordian stated, remembering the train pulling almost silently into the area, large and forest-colored.
"Well then what are you doing just standing there, go find him!" the president shouted.
Gordian made sure to bow low before striding out of the room.
His fingers began to massage his temples and he closed his eyes in thought. Good, I won't have to wait any longer.
The only light in the room spilled onto the floor from the small window, high above in the ceiling. It didn't provide much light at all really, especially at night.
But that was how the president preferred it.
He believed it reflected his character; he didn't want any false assumptions made. He was a threatening, cold-hearted man, and he wanted it to be like that.
Therefore no one defied him, exactly how he wanted it. Everyone in the Capitol and every District had seen or faced his wrath at one point or another. His hands folded behind him as he stood up and sulked to the heart of his office. The many thoughts of the upcoming games overwhelmed him greatly, especially since this was a third year.
One thought in particular most concerned him. The pair of ice-like eyes shot a gaze upon a little golden trinket that lay upon his glass bookshelf about ten paces northwest. Keeping his eyes icy, his countenance neutral and his posture erect, he walked the short distance.
This must work, he thought as his fingers wrapped around the thing. He lowered it to chest level and then opened up his palm. This has to be the best trial yet.
Etched and imprinted onto the middle figure was a beautifully crafted letter, with its stems extended to every edge. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen; his key to ultimate power. But the door it went to hadn't been built yet. His heart raced thinking of how much longer he had to wait.
Then there was a rapping at the door's shoulder, and the click of a doorknob already being handled. In a swift, graceful gesture, the golden trinket was cast back up to the top of the bookcase and he swiveled on the balls of his feet. He even had the time to step back to the center of the room.
"Good evening, General."
"Good evening indeed, President Dykes." The man at the door stood a little higher and leaner than the leader did, but he had no interest in threatening him in any way. His face was covered by a shadow and the hood of a jacket. Underneath, it hid a grave smile.
"Your suspicions were correct then, I assume?" President Dykes gestured with his hand for the general to step forth and he took a seat in the chair behind the desk once more. "You taken up on the offer to visit and all."
He did not take off the coat and stepped right to the edge of the small light. "Yes," he spoke softly as he handed a manila envelope over to the higher official. "The second has been chosen. And looking around tonight, I say I may have my eyes on the third."
"Only three, then?" the President was slightly disappointed, but no matter. It would make the final moments even better.
"Aye; you know it better than I, Mr. Dykes, that we cannot waste the final one just yet. We must assure that one of these three will win before we can make any plans."
The president opened the envelope carefully and peered at the documents inside. He removed them to get a better look. He brought it a little closer to his face. "Have you studied this one thoroughly, General? We cannot just send in any of them, you know; regardless of how good-looking they are."
"I wouldn't choose otherwise, sir." A smug smirk appeared on his face, he was very sure about this. We shall please those 'Rits to the highest extent.
"Which one did you have an eye on as a third again?" President Dykes flipped the page over to the second paper.
"I hadn't told you." The general nodded curtly his apologies. "A Career, sir; has quite some potential, really, even though he hasn't trained his entire life. I'll look into that more."
"Yes, you do that…" his focus was still directed to the files of this tribute though. 5'4, 120 lbs, not bad for an average, but does this one possess any skill? The president didn't hesitate to ask. "Does this one possess any initial skill, highly ranked, so to speak?"
The general pulled the top of the paper back with his index finger. "This one you mean, sir? Yes; a high level of mental capacity, and stubbornness, if you ask me." He chuckled darkly after saying so.
The president frowned. "Something that can be tolerated and controlled, nonetheless?"
The general still smirked. "Don't go off worrying about it, sir. We haven't had any trouble before this point, what makes you think any ruckus is going to start now?"
His eyes looked upon the general's face, with a gaze that was still unsure of his claim. "I love your optimistic logic, General. But don't become to full of yourself now." He rose to his feet, replacing the papers in the envelope. "It is a fact that you do think better under negative conditions. We cannot out-rule the possibility of a disturbance to this experiment just yet, despite how close we are to accomplishing our goal."
In return, the general spread his arms wide and turned his back to the president as he walked to the center of the room. He halted at the dead center of the rug. The rug was actually shaped like Panem, with accurate measurements of the Capitol and all the Districts, even District 13, which the president preceding him had defeated many years before. "Of course, your honor." His head lowered. "But don't you think Ritalion wants us to think positively about this? It wouldn't please them an inch if we doubted this."
Ritalion; the word haunted at the back of the President's mind, though he never showed it or implied it. Every time it was brought up, a pair of even colder eyes, almost white and a permanent grimace appeared before his eyes. This name was only known among the President and his closest loyalties, which weren't many. "No, they wouldn't. More specifically, he wouldn't be pleased." He stated gravely.
"Which is why my thinking dominates in this situation." He laughed. When he turned back, his smile had disappeared. "Look three will be enough, and I can assure you, one of them shall win this. I couldn't be surer."
"We'll see; wait until they begin training. We shall make our final decisions then. We shall have plenty of time."
It was too late by the time the President realized what the General was doing. His hand was already reaching up to the top of the shelf. President Dyke's face had become stern and furious. "General!" he hissed.
Between two fingers, the trinket was carefully held, like precious, fragile glass. He laughed as he held it up. "So this is where you've been keeping it?" He couldn't help the humor in his glance. "I must say, sir, with all due respect," He opened the bookcase and took out an average looking book with a faded blue cover and dusty pages. When he opened it up to a certain page, a small holding space was revealed. He put the golden trinket in the space and replaced the book. "It deserves a much better place of hiding."
Less angry, but still infuriated, he sat down again. "How much longer do you intend to say, General?"
"I cannot stay too much longer." He admitted. "I must get back to my work, you know."
"Then why don't you go off and do such? I need some time to think."
The general spoke no more. With a curt nod and a brief salute, he quickly vanished behind the door.
A great sigh escaped his chest. "Ritalion." He murmured almost silently. A fist clenched over the manila file that still lay upon his desk. "I shall not fail. No… I cannot fail. My existence and position depend solely upon it."
His eyes found an invisible victim of the door, his eyes colder and icier than he had ever made them before. This experiment shall prove fatal, indeed. Not to me, but to the members of Panem. I shall not fail. I shall not fail. Two things always prevail over all; superior and justice. And I am both.
