Chapter 22: Edison Watt

Abraxas Brandywine looked out over his miniature empire, and couldn't help the smug smirk that came over his face. They might be in vastly different industries when it came to the Games, but the Head Gamemaker still knew that Tax Bacchus over at Rolling Dreams casino would piss himself if he could even see all the toys he, Abaraxas, had at his disposal.

A state-of-the-art facility boasting 10,000 square feet of the best holotech sesterces and drachmas could buy. No less than a 150 (and Ravinstill had given him assurances that come next year, he could bolster his personnel up to 200 in hiring) underlings on hand to obey his every order. The holographic projections were of a blue, CGI quality that made Abraxas's very fingers tingle. Beneath the glass balcony, Assistant Gamemakers scurried frantically to put on a show, yelling out vital signs for the remaining contenders, adjusting their betting odds. Games Control had a direct line to Tax and Rolling Dreams casino in order to keep abreast of the latest wagers, but Abraxas didn't trust the sleazy gambler as far as he could throw him not to inflate the numbers on a particular horse he might be backing. So he had Olimpio, Tax's madame over at the casino who was at least known for being scrupulous, give it to him straight.

Right now, the 22nd Hunger Games was a week and a half old, and there were only seven tributes left. The Final Eight had been set last night but only stayed hours old, once the boy from 6 perished under the chilly evening temperatures on this, a miniature rendering of the earth itself.

Of course, it wasn't any version of the Earth that would be recognized today, or even the one from before the Catastrophes, before the Dark Days. The continent of what would eventually become Panem, North America, has been scrunched up against all the other continents which once featured lands and human populations that no longer existed.

Abraxas knew from his studies that there was a term for this kind of supercontinent, last seen millions and millions of years ago – Pangea. And he also knew that about 70% of the Earth's landmass was covered by water.

"Sir? Mr. Brandywine?"

Abraxas turned his head down to the clearly nervous supplicant standing directly below the balcony.

"District 2 is pursuing District 3 to the edge of the Arctic Lake, which in our design rests above what would one day be, and what was now once known as, Canada." The Assistant Gamemaker generated a miniature spread of the area with the holotech dotting his fingers, expertly and eagerly pinpointing where the last two surviving Careers were chasing down the terrified girl from 3 – the first case of tributes directly encountering one another in days. At the footspeed they were going, Abraxas knew they would reach the shore of the vast lake within ten minutes, giving them a view of what used to be Mother Russia on the opposite shore… and thus gave them, the Gamemakers, precious little time to act.

But Gamemakers Headquarters had come a long way from its humble origins as a Capitol contracted landscaping company – Capitol Landscaping, LLC. They were now a polished operation, a well-oiled machine.

Abraxas burned through a minute of that precious little time closing his eyes and contemplating. Some people might think that President Ravinstill held all the absolute power, and when it came to most everything in Panemian life, he did. But when it came to the Games – Abraxas had the power to quite literally decide on the Victor. Decide who would live and who would die.

As he did now.

"When they get to the shore, let the Careers play with Three for a bit until they kill her. Then, when they are resting on their laurels…. Set off an earthquake in the Arctic Lake. Make the tectonic plates move."

The Assistant Gamemaker's eyes gleamed, and Abraxas knew he was already thinking three steps ahead to the certain result of such a move. "Right away, Mr. Brandywine."

"Thank you, Coriolanus. There's a good lad." The underling scampered off to relay the orders, while Abraxas leaned back away from the balcony and breathed it all in. He rather liked that Coriolanus Snow; the boy reminded him of himself in a way – eager to rise, eager to please. He'd perhaps make a fine Head Gamemaker himself one day, though he wouldn't, at a spry 30, be the youngest to potentially hold the post. That record would likely stay with Abraxas himself who, at 28, was the youngest Head Gamemaker in history, going from coffee boy fresh out of Capitol University to Assistant Gamemaker to Assistant Head to the top job in just under five years.

His head spun with the accomplishment. To have already reached the pinnacle of his career now, even before marriage and family, made him swell with pride. Here he would remain for at least the next three decades, should all go well with his health, and then he would retire with dignity.

Yup. His life was all planned out now.

"Sir? Sir?! The Careers and Three are reaching the treeline!" Someone hollered out. Abraxas just smirked. "Places, everybody! Let's sit back and enjoy the show!"

On one of the large screens, of nearly twenty placed in a square all along the tops of the walls, Abraxas observed as the Careers finally tackled a hollering District 3 right at the water's edge. The boy, Paris, laughs as he yanks down the panties of the little twelve-year-old and begins to rut against her whilst his district partner moans and touches herself through her clothes, tweaking her nipples. Abraxas couldn't help but cringe. He had his own fetishes just as much as the next Capitol man, but child rape was a bit much, and only reinforced his earlier decision.

The Two girl finally gets bored masturbating to molestation and shoves Paris off the sobbing Three girl to stab her through the stomach.

Abraxas didn't even wait a second before nodding to the standing by and ready form of Coriolanus Snow. "Now, my boy!"

Snow slammed his hand down on a button and deep below the Arctic Lake, another screen actually showed the tectonic plate as it shifted. The very ground began to rumble and the kids from 2 looked at each other in confusion before a shadow passed over them. The tsunami wave charged without mercy towards the pair on the shoreline, causing both Careers to shriek and run for their lives. Within moments, both were overtaken and swept away out to sea.

Abraxas sighed without regret as he turned to look at the Ratings monitor. The number of households tuning in was always bolstered by Mandatory programming in the districts (people who had to keep watching), but here in the Capitol, folks were free to channel surf and turn away whenever they liked, which sometimes caused the ratings to fluctuate up and down. Abraxas could now see that the Ratings in Capitol households had spiked during the chase, only to dip significantly during Paris's rape of the little girl before jumping back up again at the tsunami.

46,000.

"Fire cannons." Abraxas ordered. A trio of BOOMS – including a belated one for the Three girl - went off in rapid succession.

"Sir? Sir?! The tidal wave is unresponsive! We don't think we can control it, much less ebb it back!"

Abraxas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Where are the remaining four tributes?"

"Five boy is wandering along the coast of what ultimately becomes District 4 in Panem, the girl from 7 is on the tip of latter-day Greenland, the boy from Eleven is all the way down in what was once Mexico on the old South American continent, and the girl from Twelve is currently up in Mother Russia. Sir."

Abraxas gnashed his teeth. Spread out. They were all too spread out. The wave would kill any tribute in its path before driving them together for a battle. He quickly made a decision.

"You're positive you can't reign the wave in?"

"We've tried every coding algorithm, sir, even the advanced ones. It can't be done."

Abraxas breathed out deeply through his nose. In moments like this, it was best to just let Mother Nature run its course. "Let the wave run itself out then; it will get absorbed into the sea upon reaching the Southern Hemisphere. Final Four, we were at the end game now, anyway." If he was right, the wave would claim Districts 5, 7 and 11 in its path, leaving District 12 – the only tribute north of the wave's origin – the Victor by default. Abraxas had hoped for a bloodier finale for his first year as Head Gamemaker, but the tsunami had been a bold choice, and District 12 hadn't had a Victor in a dozen years. A new Victor from a deeply underdog district would at least make this year memorable.

Where it would have taken days to run all the way down the mashed-together landmasses, the tidal wave now reached down into present-day Panem in only an hour or two. Over in Greenland, District 7 met her end in mere minutes.

Down in the homeland, District 5 lifted his head, cocked his ear at the sound of the oncoming roar from the holes he had been digging along the sandy beach. A hand to his forehead, Abraxas saw his eyes widen as he recognized the frothing white foam crashing over the tops of the trees in the distance. The boy from 5 squeaked and quickly leapt down into one of the holes, which Abraxas's cameras could now see was but one entrance into a series of connected tunnels. The Head Gamemaker hadn't known what to make of the scrawny fifteen-year-old who had been obsessively digging since just after the start of the Games. Now, Abraxas just thought him stupid. Going underground wouldn't save the kid from what was coming. If anything, the tsunami would saturate the sand above his head, weighing it down until it collapsed atop him, burying the boy alive.

Yeah, at this point just by virtue of where she was standing, the girl from Twelve had this in the bag. It really was a pity that the District 4 tributes, likely the only tributes who knew how to swim, had been killed in the opening minutes. A collection of drownings as a finale was bloodless and boring.

Abraxas and his Gamemakers watched, holding their breaths, as the wave arrived on the shores of modern day Four. The water quickly saturated the sand above where Five had burrowed himself, shaking before collapsing, sealing the poor fellow in. Five had created his own tomb, quite literally dug his own grave. Less than ten minutes later, the boy from Eleven down in Ipanema was swallowed up by the breakers. Abraxas watched as his vitals crashed and flatlined, same as the girl from 7's had.

"Give me three cannons. Then prepare the trumpets."

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Up north in Mother Russia, Abraxas could see clearly the girl from Twelve's eyes widen in the moment she realizes she's won. Her lips silently move, counting down… and then she smiles.

"FUCK THE CAPITOL!"

She suddenly screamed and moved so fast, Abraxas didn't, couldn't see it coming. He was just beginning to yell, "IMMO -!" (the start of an order to Immobilize her Tracker NOW!) when District 12 stabbed herself through the heart and fell over, dead.

Gobsmacked silence in Games Headquarters. All the blood drained from Abraxas Brandywine's face as his envisioned career of decades flashed before his eyes, now reduced to days. He was reminded of the Fourteenth, the proceedings now morbidly joked about as The Suicide Games. Only this time, there has been a single suicide rendering, for the first time in history, the Games and the Capitol with no Victor.

At first, Abraxas didn't want to believe it was real, but he was dissuaded of this notion all too forcefully when an underling sounded the girl from Twelve's cannon. A deadly silence permeated the room for a moment more until Abraxas started screaming.

"WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?! SOMEONE BETTER EXPLAIN TO ME HOW WE LOST A VICTOR RIGHT FUCKING NOW, OR -!"

"Mr. Brandywine!"

"WHAT?!"

Assistant Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow pointed a shaking finger at one of the screens – more, specifically, one of the tributes' vital signs. "Look."

Abraxas looked… and was startled to see that the vital signs of one of the tributes was still moving, though faintly. Then, onto the screen which showed all the sand tumbling down to bury that one boy like an ant starting to move.

All the Gamemakers leaned forward as one, hardly daring to believe it, as the boy from 5 finally broke through the top layer of sand, looking like a walking piece of yellow cake, before he stood, tall and proud.

Normally, Abraxas should have been kicking himself that he ordered a cannon fire prematurely. He hadn't paid attention to Five's vital signs as well as he should have. Now, he was nothing but relieved as Coriolanus Snow sounded the trumpets without having to be told and Claudius Templesmith announced:

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winner of the 22nd Annual Hunger Games: Edison Watt of District 5!"

Games Headquarters erupted in cheers and underlings fell into each other's arms, slapping backs and kissing and pumping each other's hands. Abraxas sagged as he exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A boring finale morphed into a heart-stopping one. He certainly wouldn't have planned it that way, but maybe the President wouldn't notice how close the Hunger Games had come to wiping out every single tribute. Oh, well. It was his first time out running the show. Better luck next year (thank the STATE!), knowing his job was in all likelihood still secure.

Abraxas watched as a hovercraft landed on the beach and a contingent of Peacekeepers had to rush in to subdue a now-thrashing Edison Watts, now a Victor with a ho-hum score of six and only a single Bloodbath kill to his name. The Head Gamemaker chuckled.

"You are one hell of a survivor, you crazy little son-of-a-bitch…."