Prologue, Part Two.

"They gave Pandora a box. Prometheus begged her not to open it. She opened it. Every evil to which human flesh is heir came out of it. The last thing to come out of the box was hope. It flew away."
— from "Timequake," Kurt Vonnegut

Pandora Quinn, 29
Member of the New Haven Federation

Every time the Federation meets someone gets angry.

You'd think a group of people hand-chosen by their individual Districts would get along better, but apparently not. Or maybe that just has to do with her presence, as the thirteenth member. Maybe if she wasn't here they would all sing songs and hold hands.

Or maybe not.

Capitol blood still scares people, nine years later. It scared people back then, too. Worse, it killed them - a perfectly executed civil war ignited when Cambria Mervaine broke nine children out of the last arena she never made and left the President dead in her office. If that hadn't happened her father wouldn't have had to take the mantle himself, wouldn't have gotten a bullet in the head courtesy of one Carnelia Trevall, still considered a missing persons.

Not that anyone minds that status, least of all her.

Pandora's very aware that she does not belong in this group. She fought for seven years to get the Capitol a spot in this group. They were a part of this too, cause or not. They deserved to have a say in the biggest decisions this country would make.

So she fought, and she won.

That doesn't mean any single one of them has to like her.

Or talk to her. Or look at her.

Or even pretend she exists.

Wendell and Eilon had been at her for weeks, when they came up with the Project, insistent that it wasn't necessary. There was no need to dredge up the Games nine years later, when everyone had finally started moving past them, especially not to teach Capitol kids about their history. There were better ways to do that. Classes. Workshops.

Though she guessed this was kind of a workshop as well.

It was rather simple, really. Tomorrow they would announce the chosen applicants and arrange transportation, in order to move them all to the complex. There they would be split into groups, and would spend their week learning about the Games. The good, the bad, the ugly. It would serve as a lesson. A lesson that would continue for years to come, provided it went well.

And she was sure it would. The decision hadn't been an easy one. The Games, even a mention of them, would set people off. She had spent months agonizing over the decision, watched it spread all over the news.

She had finally made her choice - yes. Seven to six in the Federation.

The closest they had ever come in a vote.

The hostility had died down, since the vote. But today they had chosen the applicants and locked them in.

The hostility was back again.

She has the folder tucked tight under her arm, filled with the applications of the twenty-four children who would have their lives changed in a matter of days.

Unfortunately, she doesn't make it very far.

Eriska was walking up behind her, and she could still move just as fast as anyone despite her age. The older woman had a firm but gentle hand on her arm before she could round the next corner.

"Do you feel better, now that we've chosen?"

She pauses. "I'm confident in the decision. I have been since I voted."

"And I'm not. I told you this wouldn't end well, and I still believe that. Waylon and Jordan got under your skin, put ideas in your head. They're still whispering. You may have been watching them get reaped a few years ago, had the war not gone the way it did. And you feel the need to trust them?"

"I was not influenced—"

"That may be what you believe, dear, but you're young. There was no changing Nyle's or Ophira's minds about this, and God knows I can't blame Leopold if he hopes to incite something, but you? There were better ways to do this. You and Kestrel both."

She's not here to get lectured. Eriska is looking out for her; she knows and believes this whole-heartedly.

But the fact of the matter is there's no changing it now. No matter who wishes that was so.

"We can't re-vote now. The announcement is tomorrow."

"I'm aware of that. But what we can do is keep this situation locked down. We've chosen the instructors, the location, but we need to make sure we have it under control."

"You think someone will try and pull something?" she asks.

"That's what I fear, not what I believe," Eriska says. "The fact of the matter is, you take twenty-four kids out during another summer, death or not - fear spreads. And people just might believe that something is happening when it's not."

"And what if something is happening?"

Eriska shakes her head. "It's not. Keep an eye on Jordan and Waylon. Kestrel too. And tomorrow, if someone reacts differently than what we're expecting, we watch."

And wait. That's what her father did, before he died for it. Sat, and watched, and waited.

And died.

Eriska squeezes her arm. Despite their differences, Eriska has never tried to make her feel like an outcast. Where Leopold makes no secret of his disdain, where Marza and Scarlet and Rocco all avoid her eye, she has never done any of that.

"Watch," she repeats. "Watch, and hope that your vote which pushed us to the brink doesn't tip us over the edge once again."

That's not how this will go. She makes herself repeat the words. The applicants are chosen. Everything is set in place, and it's going to go perfectly. They'll learn, and they'll embrace the history that shaped them into who they are today. They'll remember when some people refuse to.

They'll remember, because Pandora cannot hope to forget.

Meet Pandora, the eldest child of the now deceased shortest term Vice President ever. She's very tired. As am I.

Submissions are still open, there's still a few ideas I'm leaning towards that I could really use so if you're interested in maximizing your chances maybe hit me up? Especially if you've submitted an older one and only an older one. The final list and blog will go up with the next chapter. Currently my list is shaping up amazingly though. I'm super happy with it, so big thanks to you guys.

Until next time.