Vispasian Ginger (President)
It was time to plot out the Games a little bit more, a couple of last fixes and tidbits. We had almost everything planned. All of the mutts, any booby-traps... Everything was supposed to be ready. Still, I was called in to check up on everything. It was the last scan, and Draco didn't want to disappoint me. He never would. Cordelia didn't seem at all nervous about my visit, but nobody had to be, anyways. I wasn't a monster. I wasn't a jerk. I was just going to see how the Arena was coming.
"How's everything coming?" I asked Draco, since he was the one who had invited me. I tried to be nice to all my Gamemakers. If one of them had invited me, I would have addressed them. Still, Draco was the Head Gamemaker, so he was getting attention no matter who invited me. He just wouldn't necessarily be first.
"I'd say it's going well. Here we have planned a couple of mutts, large rat types... And over here we've fully stocked food for whoever happens to find it. This should cause a lot of hand-to-hand combat, since nobody should die of starvation. If they do, it's their own stupidity," Draco said, waving his hand over the spots of the Arena where everything was. I listened attentively, knowing this would all be important. "Here we'll have some water, and if anyone wants to get creative, there'll be more over here."
"Everything looks good," I said once Draco was done explaining. "Why did you even call me in here? You know I trust your judgement." I certainly did, and I had other things to do. Papers had to be signed. Quells had to be prepared for. I had to make a big announcement sometime, and I may as well mentally prepare myself for it before I even knew what it was.
"Always good to get that last look," Draco replied, smiling at me. He was right. I could have gotten annoyed had he not asked, or had he asked. Still, he really didn't need my final opinion. I'd let whatever happened... happen. I didn't really care too much about the Games. Necessary though they were, if there were a couple flukes, I didn't mind. It made the Districts happier, and the last thing I needed was a rebellion. If avoiding that meant throwing the outer-Districts a bone, then I could find plenty of ways to help.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone raise a fist, then leave the room. Immediately, I ducked under a table, dragging Draco with me. That couldn't be a good sign. Nobody would dare leave their shift without talking to a higher-up, nobody would just randomly leave. And nobody would make sure someone saw them before they left, waiting until someone who was prepared saw their sign. It was bad. Definitely bad.
Rising to my expectations, I soon heard bullets flying through the room. I heard screams and shouts, some people pulling the weapons Gamemakers were allowed to have, others trying to hide behind technology in the room. It was all to no avail. Most of our technology wasn't made for bullets. We didn't expect it would ever have to be. Cries and whimpers filled the air as people realized there truly was nowhere to go, and I knew something had to be done. I was the President of Panem. I could figure something out.
"Stay here," I whispered to Draco, standing up from my spot beneath the desk. Immediately, all the guns were pointed at me. None were fired. "What do you want?"
"Mrs. Ginger, we're here to pass on the sentence you've been convicted of. Multiple murders, multiple war crimes, sixteen accounts of corruption, eight accounts of extortion..." I listened while the list rambled on and on, pretending to care while trying to figure out who it was. Obviously it was rebels, and obviously the rebellion was deep inside the Capitol. One of my hand-picked Gamemakers knew about it. But was it Capitolites? Districts? Who?
"All right. You've obviously done your job. If you're going to execute me, do it now, but please leave the Capitolites alone," I said calmly, putting my hands above my head. One life for the rest in the room? It was something I could handle. I steeled myself the best I could, leaving my hands up but curling my toes. Closing my eyes would have made me more comfortable, but that was one thing I couldn't do. That would be betraying my fear of death, leaving Panem vulnerable in my wake.
The leader, as I could tell by her different colors, her confident stance, walked up to me, resting the barrel of the gun on my head. She stared at me coldly, releasing the safety, then pulled down her mask, showing herself to be a District kid. No Capitolite would ever look like she did; she had a dirty face, an odd complexion. She waited for a second, then spoke. "April Fool's."
Well? I hope none of you expected anything better of me on April first. April fool's y'all :P
Tbh a rebellion would probably just make Panem worse with Ginger as president.