Prologue One: Erase me, Replace me
Head Gamemaker Crystella Borates,
Presidential Mansion, Breakfast Room 2
20th March, HG 87
I've always felt a certain chill of anticipation whenever I am sought out by the President. My fellow Gamemakers always found this absurd, that I did not fear during these meetings, especially after my experiences. It is that ignorance that took me to the top, rather than their little bartering attempts, no matter what they may all accuse me of. The president and I are kindred spirits, we know what we want, even if it's different things.
I giggle slightly to myself, as my heels click across the polished floors. I'm pacing, just waiting.
What fools they all are.
I know what they think of me, their assumptions as to how I must have acquired my prestige and position. I stopped caring about that long ago. They can think what they want, I've stopped caring about their accusations.
I run through my progress report in my head, preparing and perfecting the almost impromptu speech. I plan, and I scheme, as I always do. It's the Spring Equinox and the President has sprung this meeting at random, as always.
Ever since the clearout of 75, that is.
I chastise myself for thinking off course, such topics will only serve to distract me from my goal. I do, however, smile at one memory.
It's work as usual, and of course I, the newest, the underling, am left bored and observing. Plutie's looking more nervous, no, not nervous, hopeful, than usual. That would have been expected, I suppose, the Quarter Quell is down to so few tributes and the problem Victors haven't yet been dealt with.
I notice it before the others do, the Girl on Fire with her bow. Shooting up at the force field, the weak spot Plutie told me not to patch. I'm about to yell out, before the Peacekeepers storm the place, bullets ripping through the air. They don't seem to have as much of a hit list as much as who needs to be left alive.
In the end, it's only me. Plutie's been led away in chains, with his core support, and there's more blood on my floor than being spilt in the arena. As my coworkers die around me, I'm told to fix the force field, to fix it now. It's simple, and I do not question the hovercraft being shot down outside of it.
The Victors are all so close to making it, before my backup system reboots. It's flimsy and flawed, but it holds, and there's no resuscitation for the District Twelve charmer this time.
Realising what has happened, what nobody had known, I become determined. The peacekeepers leave me, telling me the President wishes to speak to me here.
When they're gone, I let out a wolfish grin. I speak aloud.
"Well aren't they all going to regret this."
That particular incident has become somewhat of a running joke between him and I.
Almost as much of a joke as District 13, bombed back to the dark days. Still there, of course, but not yet a threat. With their nuclear arsenal disarmed, they'll destroy themselves.
Lost in thought, I barely notice his arrival, but recover my wits enough to curtsy before him.
"Mr President Snow, it is, as always, an honour to meet with you."
He greets me warmly as we kiss on both cheeks.
"Come now Ms Borates, we are old friends, there is no need for this."
He takes a seat, relaxed, and immediately takes a sip of tea from the cup in front of him.
Well that was quick.
I'm cool, calm, collected as I always am. Secretly I'm waiting, but still report upon my progress. He has already seen the arena and muttations, but always takes a special interest in the mechanics of the arena.
"Once again Sir, my team and I have been tirelessly working on protective measures. The challenges are tightly secured to prevent preemptive access and the blast radiuses of the land mines increased to prevent any escape until the true beginning of the Games."
I look at his face, he's still, barely reacting to anything. For once in my career, I begin to worry a little. Over ten years and he's never looked this blasé.
I stop my presentation, looking towards him.
"Mr President, are you quite alrig-"
I squeak as I'm cut off. He slumps forward suddenly onto the table, loud enough for only I to hear.
It worked.
I let out a loud laugh, not caring if the Peacekeepers outside may hear.
"I've done it!" I cackle to myself.
So many years of pandering and schemes. He's gone. The arsenic worked so flawlessly, I knew the old fool had stopped taking the antidotes.
"But I'm getting ahead of myself aren't I, Mister Colie?" I sing-song as I'm about to leave the room.
I must act as though it's business as usual, since the Peacekeepers don't yet know, which is all the more fun. The Peacekeepers know that our now dead Pres likes his alone time after meetings. By time he's discovered...I will be long gone.
I'm almost dancing across the room. Yet as I touch the handle to leave, I feel a slight shiver go down my spine. And then the steak knife.
"Why yes Miss Crystella, I believe you are."
I collapse forward against the door, already beginning to go into convulsions.
"H-how?"
I must know. Twelve years of scheming. Twelve years plight for revenge. A flawlessly executed foolproof plot, and yet that monster still lives.
I feel the door open, and fall flat at the Peacekeepers' feet. Snow whispers something unintelligible to them both, and I am hauled to my feet. Snow stands close, and I can still smell the poison. Noxious. Deadly.
"Well you see, my dear, a plan only seems foolproof to the fool that creates it. I must admit, I had hoped you were better than this. Twelve years of cooperation, and seven of your presiding over the Games. I'd have thought you knew me better by now. After all, I know your husband Heavensbee told you of my poisoning past time."
He's circling me now, watching me as I can feel my body contorting and mangling itself in its desperate attempt at liberation from the pain. The look in his eyes, a blank pool of sadistic joy. He enjoys my suffering, he's known all along. Even when I thought everything was so well hidden.
"Oh yes, I knew about you two. I knew how much more potential you had. And believe it or not, I noticed when your technicians found how strange the flaw was. You were the backup plan, I realise that now. You were the least suspected. So you waited, but never realised I was watching. For as cunning as you are, I am twice as cautious. Even now, I live with the antidote to every poison conceivable. Although I must of course thank my triple agent for her help. And now, of course we must go about finding your replacement. It's so rude of you to try this so close to the Games…..and such a shame you'll never see this one. I know it'll be a good show. Better than today's performance, I hope."
He begins to walk away from me, leaving his Peacekeepers to dump me back on the floor of the Breakfast Room.
The adrenaline, the fear. I never thought I'd fear after that day. When I was the last one left I had a mission. I didn't fear my new coworkers' opinions or accusations of bedwarming. I didn't fear Snow because I knew, eventually, I'd be the one to poison me.
I can feel my body failing as the fluids drain from me. My neural connections break down.
And then he turns and smiles.
It's almost kind.
"Do you know why I always picked Room Two for our meetings, Ms. Borates?"
I glare at him, but it's taken as a 'no'.
"Well my dear, it's because I don't care so much about replacing the carpet."
He laughs, and it's raspy, evil.
"You people never do realise that you're easily erased, easily replaced"
Then he's gone, like a fleeting nightmare.
And as I curl in on myself one last time, I know I've failed and I reflect for the first time in years.
I think about the times before I found the Rebellion, Capitol induced delirium until Plutie showed me the light.
About the meticulous planning it took to get me this far. About how many people had to die because they were found to be connected, when I thought I'd slipped under the radar.
About who could have betrayed me. Enobaria, who had nothing to do with it the first time, but was so willing now. My two most hated associates, always jealous, always grasping at straws. Taaffeite and Candida, my first and most recent Victors, conspiring with the rest of them.
And then it hits me. And I'm laughing. I don't know why. It was so obvious. So painful. The Poisoner, of course it was. She would play off of her new name.
I cough out, still laughing, and speak one last time.
"Treacherous little minx."
AN: Welp, that was fun to write, but I suppose it'll be up to you as to whether or not it was good. Please give constructive criticism.
If the story title didn't give it away, this is an SYOT!
It's my first time publishing a story in general, and I'd love it if people could give me some tips, as I've always liked submitting characters.
Here's the form!
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I think that's all.
I intend to have a second prologue out within the week, with a little more world building.
When I have tributes, just know they won't all be introduced during Reapings, I want to spice it up a bit.
Have a nice day/night!