Head Gamemaker Elkavich. Before the Reapings.

"Are they the confirmed Careers?"

Her assistant nods back at her. He blinks rapidly as if there were tears he was warding away from his eyes. Elkavich scoffs and waves him off.

She glances at the Careers. Echoing behind her is the boy's pathetic scampering, and she waits till his steps stop resounding before she draws up the Careers.

It's almost too dramatic. They've had to take security measures, with the small flare-ups of dissent throughout the Districts. Caging his family was barely anything to ensure his loyalty. It did not warrant tears.

Ahead of her, Snow stands. Hands clasped, his head tilted up. His gaze fixes upon her, shards of white-ice that drag through her skin. Waiting for her error, she expects.

Elkavich ignores him. She draws up the projection. They swirl in front of her: that list of six confirmed tributes. Faces of all facets stare back at her; some grinning, a few solemn, some desolate, maybe. First: she brings up that District One girl.

Her reflection shimmers back at her: pale and haughty, eyes like they've emptied and left demons within. Snow raises one, careful eyebrow at her wavy black hair, oily-so that there's barely strands but a mass that is made out; and Elkavich steels herself, because that broken look, that gaunt jaw, the certainty in her stance — oh, she knows what he is thinking. She can see the similarity.

"This isn't a repeat of Madison Saros, is it?" Snow states. Madison Saros. That so-called Career that ruptured the 55th Games. That made a joke of the Careers by allying with the Outer District tributes and making some half-baked rebellion because she wanted to get free with her girlfriend. Guthrie was killed for what she'd stirred up two months ago.

Elkavich looks at this District One girl. This girl who had been approved, complained, or spoken of grudgingly to her by various One Victors for her life in training from eve to dusk, from twilight till morningsun; she practically lives in the Arena already. A name recommended by sponsors, floated on by various high-profile individuals, offhand comments from government officials that had visited One and had seen her.

Dior Marini. A girl that hadn't had a break from fighting since the announcement for the Games. A girl that was already winning speculative sponsors from those who had already met her from high-up in the Capitol. A girl that had broken the legs of her closest competitors a week ago.

"No." Elkavich feels something twitch the corner of her lips. "She is no Madison Saros."

She pulls up the District One boy next. Chrys Gerhart. He isn't a powerhouse typical of District One males; of mass and muscles and nothing more. He is leaner, than they usually are, but relatively round their same height, and with a growing buzzcut, it's as if he was pre-emptively preparing for the Games.

Elkavich's lip twitches. Unreluctant. Snow appreciates those kinds.

"Top of his class. Likes to pick fights with everybody else in his year group. We've had multiple comments about Chrys from our scouts and sponsors."

"And his background?"

Elkavich blinks. She hadn't expected that to be Snow's query. "Chrys comes from the poorest suburbia of One. He's on a scholarship for the Academy."

"Will that be a problem?"

A problem?

Something uneasy sloshes in Elkavich's stomach, but she quells it. What was happening?

But Snow's eyes bore in her, and so she shakes her head.

"Chrys trains just as much, if not more, than the Dior. We know that the Games are what he wants."

Snow stares at her if he expects more. Elkavich swallows.

"We'll conduct a background check."

And only then does Snow's chin tilt down, slightly. Hurriedly, she swipes for the holographs for District 2. Her eyes stay on Snow, as he takes in the District Two boy.

Snow is not impressed.

"A child."

"Yes," she says, forces her nerves to still, as the twelve-year old's sunken, bone-protruding face shimmers back at her. "Kiernan Alcraiz."

There is a moment where Snow fixes his eyes on her. His head tilts. Elkavich clenches her hands. Do not shake. Do not look down. Do not act different. Do not show anything.

"Maeve Alcraiz's brother."

She nods. Relaxes. "Yes," she says, and she can breathe again. "Maeve's younger brother."

Amusment, Elkavich thinks, works upon Snow's red mouth. "Is he mentally able?"

Elkavich had expected that of Snow. She had run a thorough check on him. They were not having a repeat of last year; especially not after Maeve had killed her District Partner upon some ridiculous whim of her brain.

It's practically unbelievable that anyone was able to make such a disaster of a game. Small wonder Guthrie was killed.

"He is. We've made sure of that. Physically, he is afflicted by chronic asthma; but he is mentally stable."

A tick twirls up Snow's lips. He's satisfied, Elkavich reassures herself. He is.

"I expect that he will volunteer. How have you insured that?"

"Upon his mother's life," Elkavich says, smoothly, carefully. She had hoped that Snow would've liked her scheme. "And he has agreed."

Snow doesn't even give her a glance, now. His eyes are upon the projection. "Good. What of our female tribute?"

Elkavich's limbs sag as she conjures up the District Two girl.

Hera Dalenka is a statue. She smiles as if she's free from the world, and stares at them; in her perfect slenderness, her chestnut skin practically glowing upon the projection, and the classic District Two finish of strength carving her lean muscles.

Snow tilts his head, slightly, again.

"And is she mentally able?"

Of course.

"Yes."

"Mentally stable?"

Stable enough. No recorded history of mental conditions.

"Yes."

"Mentally strong?"

How would she know?

"Yes."

Amusement crawls over Snow's lips. Despite herself, Elkavich's stomach tightens. Snow's fucking with her now.

"Is there anything else of note about her?"

Elkavich takes in the projection. Of the girl's winning smile; typical of a Victor, she thinks, befitting of one. Hera is the epitome of the perfect District Two girl. Charismatic and ruthless, she expects. Ferocious. Able. Vicious. Nothing like the disaster that was Maeve in the last Games. What is there to note?

Instead, Elkavich swipes away. Out conjures the District Four boy; long hair ponytailed up, jaw set and shoulders drawn back, but his eyes are curiously blank.

"Rhodos McNamara," she says. She remembers that name—the McNamara's. They were one of the wealthier families in District Four; they frequented in Victor afterparties since the 25th Games, after Mira Eventide's victory, when Elkavich was a mere escort accompanying those tributes. She remembered them: they'd always drank six or seven glasses of champagne, as if they couldn't get enough of it, and were always amusing to speak to, what with their long rambles of hidden gems of investments and of striking riches eventually again and whatnot. But they'd disappeared from District Four Victor afterparties since, despite the District Four win in the 32nd Games, the year she was promoted. Their presence lacked since—and hadn't yet arisen, not even with the reigning District 4 win-streak, beginning with Hezediah Zenkovah in the 48th Games. It is quite delightful, Elkavich decides, that their son would be participating in the Games.

"What are you thinking, Elkavich?"

"Nothing," she says, and swipes the projection once more.

Althea Ivory. Her tanned skin glimmers upon the screen; and her chestnut hair rolls in waves; uncontrollable masses of tides, untamed and powerful. Her blue eyes are lightning, and a cold intensity burns within them, and Elkavich feels her stomach tighten.

Those eyes. They were familiar.

"Didn't her brother make a pathetic showing?"

Of course. Talon Ivory, that promising Career boy that doomed District Four's win streak in the 53rd Games. Recklessly arrogant and ridiculously out-of-touch. He made for good entertainment.

"And you still chose her to volunteer?"

You. Elkavich's nerves jumble. It's a subtle accusation, one which slathers her in ice. Guthrie, she remembers, that drag of steel and his gurgles, devoid of the static frizzes when it were from TV, his hands clutching his bubbling neck and later, when he could no longer hold his own head upon his neck anymore, they'd sawed off the rest and upholstered him on a pike. She had watched the scene, of all excruciating six minutes of it, upon Snow's orders.

She eyes Althea. Powerful. But not like Dior. Charismatic. But not like Hera. But what she has is her eyes.

"She'll be entertaining," Elkavich says at last. "If she's anything like her brother."

At the lift of his head, the hologram blinks off. And Snow strolls towards her, step after step after step. And the ice in her veins jab at her.

"I expect you to do better than the previous Gamemaker had."

Elkavich lifts her head to meet his. "I will."

(Guthrie's eyes, convulsing in their sockets, stare back at her.)

"I will not tolerate a repeat of the 55th Games," he says, and her skin chills over, tides of ice, through her. "Do you understand me, Elkavich?"

"Yes."

Snow's red mouth pull sideways, like a crack in pale ice. "That is upon my judgement. Upon how well you demonstrate with your Games."

A prick, another, a coldness, a tide, rolls down Elkavich's skin. And in that moment, as Snow's steps resound away — she does not see the glory. She does not feel the power. She does not even feel the prestige.

No. She only remembers Guthrie.

A/N: So this is the prologue! Decided to get this chapter out already because I got it done early, so. :D What do we think about the Head Gamemaker? Any strong impressions first-off? There's also a few references to the 55th Games that happened 2 months prior to this (They That Are Broken By The Night), and the aftereffects will stay throughout this fic, too, so.

I know that reviewing always feels like a one-way street, and personally I'm not too much of a fan of that — especially because it's hard to reply, which is why AO3's got such a nice system, tbh. Feel free to PM me and strike up a conversation, I'm always open! I'm also on Discord (Firedawn#6213), so we could all talk there if you guys want - should I make a server? What do you guys prefer?

Thank you for reading! :) Next update should be on the 24th; I know it's a long wait, but it's exam week next week for me, so I gotta get that over first, haha. c': Expect to see the D1 introductions!