Prologue I: The Innocent

Agrippa Schiele, Intern, 19:

The Capitol streets are abuzz with citizens streaming by on their way to work. Nobody bothers to even spare me a glance as they pass. Multiple people bump into me and leave in a hurry, without so much as an apology. I'm very good at flying under the radar; that's what makes me so good at my job. But I wonder if they'd be so careless about crashing into me if they knew what was in my bag. After all, I could probably destroy the lives of at least eighty percent of them.

Despite the power I hold, my hands are sweaty right now. This is the biggest case I've been assigned to thus far, and likely the biggest case I'll ever get.

"You can't screw this up, Agrippa," I mutter through clenched teeth. I hurriedly wipe my sweaty palms off on my pant legs. I shakily exhale before pushing my way into the revolving doors of the tall building in the center of the Capitol. The lobby is even more packed than the exterior, but after showing my pass to a guard, I'm escorted past the long line of workers to the elevator. I hear a few people mutter complaints, but after an angry look from the guard, they shush.

The elevator chimes and the doors open. I demurely allow the previous riders to exit before stepping inside. To my surprise, the guard follows me in and refuses access to any of the other workers. I didn't expect this level of protection, even with the importance of my newly-appointed position. The guard uses his thumb to punch the highest button on the panel; rather than being numbered like the rest, this button is marked by a simple crown symbol. The doors immediately shut and the elevator launches upward.

Despite the speed of our ascent, the amount of floors makes the silent journey uncomfortably long. I've never been the most social person, but I figure I might as well try my hand at some small talk.

"It's a nice day," I remark. It takes a moment for the guard to respond.

"I guess. I prefer rain," he says gruffly.

"Why rain?" I inquire.

"What's with all of these questions?" he barks. "I'm not on trial, am I?"

"Nope! No! I was just curious." I slink back in the elevator, putting distance between the guard and myself. I've never been a big person, but this guard is at least twice my weight. His bristly green hair almost brushes the roof of the elevator and his broad shoulders take up most of the space. He's wearing a Peacekeepers' jumpsuit, but no helmet. Peacekeepers are laxer about their outfits in the Capitol. In the Districts, they wear masks to maintain fear. Here, their main purpose is to make the Capitolians feel safe. But I've never felt very safe around Peacekeepers, helmet or not.

The elevator comes to a smooth stop and the doors slide open, revealing another wall. Upon this wall is a keypad. The guard looks at me expectantly and I step forward, nearly shaking. I've memorized the password my organization gave me, but a small part of me worries it will be incorrect. What if they changed it recently?

I type the digits "1003156". Leto Rubens's birthday. The screen beeps and turns green, to my immense relief. The second set of doors slide open, revealing the Gamemaking Room.

The space is mainly white, with a few festive purples and blues smattered throughout. There are surprisingly few employees. My initial estimate clocks in at about ten, but some doors to the sides indicate that some may have offices. All are dressed in pure white and are seated at high-tech computers displaying what I presume to be this year's arena. A giant hologram in the center of the room shows the arena in 3D. My drops in amazement at the complexity of the design. If the arena design is any indication, this year's Hunger Games will be fantastic.

"Are you going to alight or are you coming back to the lobby with me?" the guard says, snapping me out of my reverie.

"I'm getting off. Sorry," I say, my cheeks heating up. I step into the Gamemaking Room and the elevator doors shut behind me. I'm immediately greeted by a peppy girl with golden hair and golden eyes. Like the rest of the employees, she's draped in a stark white pantsuit. A headset is fitted into one of her ears, but she doesn't seem to be using it right now.

"Hello! Can I help you?" she asks me.

"Hi, I'm Agrippa—"

"Agrippa Schiele?" she finishes. "Of course. We've been expecting you. My name is Alexia Shyne, I'm the Assistant Head Gamemaker. Miss Brandfry's quite busy right now, but I'll let her know that you're here. In the meantime, I guess you should get acquainted with the place. I suppose…" Alexia turns her head and scans the room. She narrows in on a pair of white-clothed Gamemakers who are in the middle of a conversation. "Kalliope? Could you show Agrippa around?"

The girl spins around, whispers something to her friend which makes him snicker, then turns back to Alexia. "Alexia, that's not really in my job description—"

"I know, but we're quite busy today and you don't exactly seem to be doing something. I know that the main part of your job ended last week."

Kalliope shrugs then skips over to me. She doesn't seem much older than me, which immediately puts me at ease. Despite her initial hesitation, she flashes me a friendly smile. She offers me a dark hand and introduces herself as "Kalliope Seurat. I use she/her pronouns".

"Agrippa Schiele. They/them."

"So, you're the new intern?" Kalliope asks. I nod in response. "Well, your job's not really complicated. You're just supposed to do whatever we want you to," she laughs. "Athanus and I will show you around."

The boy she was talking to before wheels over to us and extends a hand. "Hi. I'm Athanus Lycan. He/him."

I shake Athanus's hand and re-introduce myself. I take a moment to inspect the pair before me. Neither of them seems much of a threat. Kalliope is black, with her curly hair tied back in a single braid. She seems tall, but perhaps that's just because her friend is sitting in a wheelchair, and is therefore half her height. Athanus has olive skin and a mop of curly brown hair. His face is round and freckled. Both are smiling at me, and I feel inclined to trust them.

But then again, I was taught at the agency to not trust anyone. No matter how friendly their smile appears.

"So, what do you want to see first?" Kalliope asks. "Computers, offices, kitchen? You'll be spending a lot of time in the kitchen. Athanus and I definitely did."

"You two were interns?" I ask.

"Yeah. We were hired a few months ago," Athanus explains. "Simon… he needed some help with designing the arena. He wasn't feeling particularly motivated."

"So… were you not… present?" I ask, unsure of how to phrase my question. Kalliope and Athanus share a confused glance, but Kalliope seems to catch on after a moment.

"Oh. No, weren't there when Leto was murdered, if that's what you're asking." Athanus urgently shushes her. "We're not supposed to talk about it. It's still under investigation."

I nod as if I'm uninterested in all of this. Kalliope and Athanus can be crossed off of my list.

"So, what do you want to see first?" Athanus asks.

"How about you introduce me to everyone?" I smile. They agree, and begin introducing me to everyone without much thought. But I pay careful attention to every smile, every handshake, every name, etc. Because one of these people killed former Head Gamemaker Leto Rubens. And it's up to me to find out whom.

Athanus Lycan, Arena Designer, 22:

Nine months ago, Leto Rubens was found dead in his office by his wife and assistant, Alexia Shyne. It was roughly 10:30 in the evening when Alexia found him. Coroners later determined his time of death to be 10 o'clock. The day that he died was June 19th, the final day of last year's Hunger Games. The Hunger Games had ended at noon, leaving the Gamemakers to spend the rest of the working day celebrating a successful Hunger Games. The party was supposed to end at 6PM, but in typical Capitolian fashion, the party lasted well into the night. It was only when Alexia discovered Leto's body that the whole celebration came to an abrupt end.

Only the group of a dozen Gamemakers had access to the floor, and thus, Leto's office. The building was well-secured, and Leto's office was windowless. In order to enter Leto's room, one would have to pass by the main celebration to the hallway of Leto's office. None of the Gamemakers saw anyone besides themselves in the building that night. The hallway Leto's office was connected to was also connected to the bathroom. Any of the employees would only need to excuse themselves to the bathroom in order to sneak into Leto's office without being suspected. All of this being true, the murderer must have been one of the Gamemakers.

The primary suspect is, of course, his successor: Vesta Brandfry. Vesta had always been power-hungry and desperate for the Gamemaker position. She had been furious when she was passed over for the job last time. Vesta had assumed that with her seniority and résumé, she would have been appointed Head Gamemaker. Instead, the younger Leto Rubens had gotten the job. A lot of people suspect Vesta killed him for the position or out of long-standing jealousy.

Alexia Shyne is not suspected by anyone but the Gamemakers themselves. They all pretended not to notice when she would come to work with bruises on her arms or the way she flinched whenever Leto entered the room. No one in the public knew of the way Leto treated her. Since his death, Alexia has put on the front of being the grieving widow—everyone but us Gamemakers believes it.

The Head Camera Operator is Star Lakefray. Nobody knows why Leto treated her as cruel as he did, but he did. Despite her position, Star was always tasked with the least desirable jobs and repeatedly endured verbal abuse from Leto. I heard from Pomponius that Leto's dislike of her stemmed from transphobia, but seeing as I didn't know him and Star refuses to talk about Leto, I cannot confirm this. Either way, Leto was cruel to Star—perhaps she finally snapped.

Camera Operators Penelope Manet and Quintus Lemonsong are probably the least likely suspects. Penelope is deaf and Quintus is well past retirement age, leaving many to underestimate them. They've been loyal Gamemakers for several years and few would suspect either had a grudge against Leto. Both were eager to follow his every command. But I've seen Penelope's cunning mind and Quintus's bitter frown. Perhaps there's more to them than meets the eye.

Cicero Windsynth, camera operator for the Northeast segment of the arena, knew Leto Rubens the longest. Cicero often mentioned going to school with Leto Rubens. Cicero may be quiet and daydreamy, but perhaps there's a grudge from his past he doesn't bring up.

Pomponius Bryton is the camera operator for the Northwest segment. Pomponius is skinny and frail; few would suspect him of being a killer. But Leto's cause of death was determined to be poison, something Pomponius could have easily smuggled into the office by hiding in one of his many bottles of beauty products. Equally suspicious is Pomponius's upbringing in the medical field. Both of his parents were doctors. Pomponius could have learned about poisons from them.

Camera Operator Vanilla Cassatt is one of Leto's many ex-girlfriends. Three years ago, she caught him cheating on her with Alexia Shyne. Three years is a long time for someone to exact revenge, but it's been said that Vanilla never got over it. Vanilla still keeps pictures of him in her wallet and sometimes calls her current boyfriend "Leto". Did Vanilla snap and kill the man she loves as some twisted romantic ending?

Our final camera operator, the debonair Dionysus Goldswan, doesn't seem to be more than good looks and partying, but in his heart he carries a deep love for his twin daughters. As far as I know, there is no reason why Dionysus would want to kill Leto Rubens. But there is always more than meets the eye. If Dionysus's raven-haired daughters were threatened, he would kill the aggressor in an instant.

Morpheus Vinci is the muttation creator. Morpheus rarely talked to Leto, but apparently, when he did, he seemed to hate Leto. Morpheus would always glare whenever Leto passed, and if Leto dared converse with him, Morpheus would stay silent. Nobody is sure why Morpheus hated Leto so much, but everyone seems to agree on one thing: Morpheus is thrilled Leto is gone.

The obstacle creator, Coco Verdi, has always had anger issues. If you mention Coco to any of the Gamemakers, their first thought will be of the time she smashed her chair into her computer because her favorite tribute didn't win. It's unlikely Coco had any sort of feud with Leto, but if Leto said even one negative thing to her, Coco might be angered to the point of murder. I've been advised multiple times to walk on eggshells around her.

Last but not least, we have Head Arena Designer and my supervisor, Simon Elgar. Simon has been very depressed recently, after his divorce from his wife of ten years. There's a rumor going around that Simon caught her cheating on him with none other than Leto Rubens. If this is indeed true, I would heavily suspect Simon. With all of the drinking he was doing at the end-of-Games celebration party, he may have been too drunk to control himself.

Ever since we were hired, Kalliope and I have been desperate to solve the mystery of who killed Leto Rubens. It reminds me of when we were in middle school together, poring over the countless murder-mystery stories on our tablets. We would stay up late trying to solve them together, even if some of our theories were far too wild. Kalliope kept proposing "aliens" as the prime cause of every murder. Needless to say, her theory was almost never correct. Except on one occasion when we were reading a particular bad murder-mystery story and the killer turned out to indeed be an alien. Kalliope never lets me live that down.

Kalliope and I live together, and the walls of our apartment are completely plastered with notes and ideas. I make sure to write down what everyone does during the day, in case some incriminating clue pops out at me later. Kalliope says I'm crazy for going to all of this extra effort, but this is coming from the girl who thought the most plausible theory was that the true killer was an evil doppelgänger of Dionysus. Luckily, she eventually drifted from that theory and is on the slightly more reasonable one that Leto was killed by the Capitolian mafia.

I let Kalliope spout off her insane theories, but I know that I'm probably closer to the truth. After all, I'm the one who listens to all of the true-crime podcasts when Kalliope is driving us to work. I've learned that the killer is almost always the spouse. Therefore, my money is on Alexia. Whether I'm right, or whether neither of us is right (I truly doubt that Kalliope is correct), only time will tell. But I'm determined that one day Kalliope and I will uncover the truth.

Kalliope Seurat, Arena Designer, 22:

When I unlock our apartment door, Athanus shoots past me to be the first inside. Ever since we were twelve-years-old, we've had this competition to see who can be the first inside a building. Athanus claims to be keeping some sort of running tally, but I suspect he's fudging the numbers. When he shows me the scores, they always seem to lean far too heavily on his side. I'm certain I've beaten Athanus inside more times than he has me. We've at least tied. There's no way Athanus has nearly twice as many points as me, no matter how many bruises he leaves from rolling over my foot.

"Beat you," Athanus smirks, spinning around as I shut the door behind us.

"For the first time this week?" I question teasingly. I shrug off my overcoat and hang it on the hook by the door. Athanus tosses his own jacket over, and it just barely snags against one of the hooks. Athanus has been perfecting his aim ever since we first moved in.

"Definitely not." Athanus wrinkles his round nose. "You can check the scorebook if you like. This is the third time this week I've beaten you inside. I'm sure there will be more before the week is over."

"Sure…" I laugh sarcastically.

"Well, you're making dinner tonight," Athanus claims. "That's our deal, right? Last one inside makes dinner?"

"Well, it's not very fair. You never make dinner. Whenever you get inside last, you just order pizza or something," I argue.

Athanus shrugs. "I don't know how to cook. I can barely reach the stovetop."

I sigh, but begin rummaging through the cabinets for ingredients. We don't have much to eat; I suppose one of us missed a shopping day. I'm about to call Athanus out, but suddenly remember it was my turn to pick up the groceries. I keep my mouth shut.

Our apartment is a bit cramped, as are most of the cheaper apartments in the center of the city. We had to be close to work, which is why we settled for a smaller apartment. In the relatively suburban areas, where we grew up, we could have easily gotten a four-bedroom penthouse for the same price. My parents are disgusted by the state of our studio apartment. It's not the apartment's fault; Mom's mad at me for "drawing on the walls". I tried to explain to her that it was our investigation board, but she didn't understand.

I choose to simply make us some sandwiches. Neither Athanus nor I have very sophisticated pallets. I can't stomach the Capitol food, and Athanus prefers simple meals. Besides, we don't have enough ingredients to make much else.

"What did you think of Agrippa?" Athanus asks, wheeling over beside me. Despite ordering me to make dinner, he begins to help cut bread slices.

"I thought they were nice," I respond. "Why?"

"I got mysterious vibes from them. I'm not sure they're just here to intern. I think they might have something to do with Leto's death."

"You mean…" I gulp. "You think Agrippa killed him?" It was the freaking mafia, I knew it!

"No, of course not," Athanus chuckles. "You know as well as I do that Leto must have been killed by one of the Gamemakers. I meant that I think Agrippa is a detective. I think they were hired to investigate Leto's murder. Why else would they ask so many questions about him?"

"Ohh… So, do you want to bring Agrippa into our investigation? Shall we work together?"

"We've always wanted a cop on our side, haven't we?" Athanus smiles. "Not to say we should let Agrippa steal all of our theories and pass them off as their own. But perhaps we can get some extra information from them. Stuff only a cop would know. Then, there's no way we wouldn't be able to solve everything"

Hi! This is my first SYOT, but I've read a few so I mostly know how this works. I've seen a lot of rebellion sub-plots, but I didn't feel up to writing a whole rebellion, so instead we have this little murder-mystery subplot. I thought it would be fun. I haven't seen it done before (although, I'm sure I'm not the first to try it).

RULES:

1. Maximum of two tributes for each submitter. This may change depending on interest. Right now, I have a few prologues left, so i have time to test the waters and see who's interested.

2. If you submit, I'm expecting you to read. I understand life gets in the way, but I hope you'll at least try to follow the story.

3. This is mostly first-come-first-serve. If you submit, your tribute will likely be accepted. I'll only be declining overpowered, unrealistic, Mary-Sue-ish characters.

4. No guest submissions. Sorry, guests, but it's not that hard to create an account and if you submit as a guest, I really can't trust that you'll stay invested.

5. PM me your submission. I don't want review-submissions spoiling anything.

6. Reservations are allowed, but last only 3 days.

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