Sabrina Essmay - 23

Apprentice Gamemaker

"The harder they fall,

The higher I rise."

We're in so much trouble.

I had locked myself into the library, flipping through books and exploring holographic discs. It feels like everything's been done before. Desert? Game #89. Underwater Simulation? Game #42. A freaking Volcano? Game #114. We can't deliver something that's been done before. It would just be too boring. Every time I feel like I've uncovered some marvelous idea, I find a carbon copy of it in the old arena files.

I'm only an apprentice. If we fail to deliver something great, my Gamemaker dreams will go kablooey.

I sat back and twirled my curly red locks. Everyone underestimates how difficult it is to be a Gamemaker! Coming up with arenas and traps are not easy. I closed my eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. I just need to relax.

But how can I relax when we're running out of time in more ways than one? Not only is the final deadline in two weeks, but these games need to be big. Every few decades, promising talk of rebellion ends up sweeping through the districts. Each and every one of the games that follow end up being spectacular, and just scary enough to shut the rebels up a bit longer. The last big event was back during the 75th games, before I was even alive. Some weirdos tried to band together and ended up all dying. The Victor was some poor sap that didn't actually deserve it, but nonetheless, it shut everyone up.

And now it's our job to make that happen again.

I started to make my way home. We have a meeting tomorrow to discuss ideas and hopefully actually start on some models. It's getting really late, and I just can't have my dress get tainted by moonlight.

As I approached my door, I noticed a small package on the stoop. It was addressed to me, but I didn't recognize the return address. It was all prettied up with a bright red ribbon and I swear some silver glitter stuck to my hands. This mysterious sender sure knew how to pique my interest. I pulled out my housekey and walked in, eager to grab my boxcutters.

Inside the package was a letter, and a small book I'd never seen before. The Capitol Library has every book ever published since the founding of Panem, and I've traversed the shelves multiple times. Yet I'd never seen this one. Had my genius finally been recognized? Was I being asked to be an editor? Thousands of questions raced through my mind as I carefully opened the letter.

Dearest Essmay,

You don't know who I am. And I hope you never will. Revealing my identity will destroy the lives of all I've ever known. But I'm sending you this in hopes that you will attack this problem head-on.

This book was found on a train headed out of District 11. I'm not sure how many copies are circling, but I have reason to believe this will become dangerous for us. Very dangerous. After carefully examining all the files of Capitol Workers, I found you to be the best choice. With all the talk of rebellion lately, it's very important that you keep this book a secret.

Sincerely,

Y.X.X.

I flipped the paper over to make sure I wasn't missing anything. Because, really, that's it? That's all I get? A mysterious book with a half-heartedly written letter? I like books, but not that much. Letting out a small sigh, I take the book out of the box. It had a vibrant pink cover with two words written in black. Fantastical Masquerade. There was no author, no date, no distribution information at all.

Opening the book, I realized that this was no normal book. Well, at least not by Capitol standards. There were no words. Only pictures. It seemed to be specifically presented in a way that anyone could understand the message, even those who were uneducated and illiterate. No wonder this mysterious Y.X.X. suspected foul play.

The story was about a young girl who lived in a magical land. She was happy, and content. Until one day she was taken from her home to fight an evil witch. The witch had an evil variant of magic, one that made the girl live through her worst nightmares. Eventually, eleven other people emerged from the shadows and helped the girl defend herself. They took down the witch and all her minions, abolishing fear and things that go bump in the night.

It was a simple kids story. Something you'd see read aloud in a kindergarten class. But the art was exquisite and so...lifelike. The images of fear and peril even make my hairs stand on end. Y.X.X. was right. This was definitely put together by a rebel group trying to villainize the games. I had to turn the book in to the proper authorities.

But...

...

Maybe there's a reason this book was given to me. I have to keep it.

And...maybe I can use it...

To my advantage.

Elliot Maverick - 45

Deputy Gamemaker

"The most important thing in this life is experience.

Don't expect me to respect you without it."

"Are you sure you want five shots? That's a lot of caffeine."

"Don't judge my caffeine intake. I'm trying a new diet," I snapped.

The barista rolled her eyes and turned to make the drink. I tapped my fingers on my leg and checked my watch. The meeting starts in an hour. I haven't told anyone - only me and the Head Gamemaker know - but if we don't come up with anything good at this meeting, we're screwed.

"That'll be $5.78," the woman said, tapping away at the register. I threw down a ten dollar bill and told her to keep the change. "Have a nice day, Mr. Maverick!" She called after me.

I got into my car and started down the road. I'd been up all night worrying, with absolutely no room in my mind to brainstorm. I'm about ready to ask the President if we can just reuse an old arena. No one will remember an arena from over a hundred years ago anyway. But the Head Gamemaker prides himself in uniqueness and creativity, so that's just another battle I'll have to fight.

I pushed the doors to the meeting room open and placed my cup on the table. I was the first one there, per usual. I did my usual tasks - prepping the hologram, wiping down the tables, adjusting the projector, all the normal things. The door opened again and again over the next ten minutes as more and more Gamemakers arrived. New hires and industry veterans alike were required to come to this final meeting as we, hopefully, decided on a new idea.

"Thank you, Maverick," the Head Gamemaker said as he entered the room. He was a tall, stocky man with long salt-and-pepper hair he held in a messy bun. His glasses were perched upon a bulging nose, and his white complexion was covered in freckles. "If you all take your seats, we'll begin."

Head Gamemaker Porters walked over to the projector and opened the holographic card holder. He put in a few discs and turned it on.

"Gamemaker Dickens had the idea of an ivy-invested forest," he said, flicking through slides. "The thick vines will make travel difficult, forcing weaker tributes to stay near the center. But as you get deeper in, the more treasures you will find!"

"That's dumb!" One of my colleagues announced. "We've definitely done that before. And how boring would it be to watch people break down vines for hours on end? There's no real danger here."

"Please, let's refrain from outbursts," Head Gamemaker Porters said calmly. "But I agree. There's something missing…let's scrap that idea. Next—"

"I'm so sorry!"

The door to the meeting room flew open. Apprentice Gamemaker Essmay stood there, her purse clutched in her hand. She was sweating so much her voluminous hair was reduced to a flat, wispy mess.

"Essmay," I said, standing up. "There is no excuse to be-"

"I promise!" She exclaimed. "I have a good reason! I was up late making-"

"The meeting started at nine a.m. sharp! You should know this if you want to be a-"

"Stop."

Porters looked over at Essmay, his eyes twinkling.

"Let her be. I'd like to see what she came up with."

I sat back down, annoyed. I chugged the rest of my coffee as she loaded the projector. As the arena loaded up, I could tell it was…different than the ones we've seen already. It looked like it was torn out of a fantasy novel. The trees appeared to be fluffy, like cotton candy. The rivers glew and the hidden caves were filled with gems. In my twenty five years of Gamemaking, I'd never seen anything like it. We'd been so focused on making something natural that I had never even considered a more whimsical environment.

"As you can see," she began. "The arena itself is modeled after a fantasy world. Something full of hopes, dreams, and magic! Something inviting. But there's a secret." She put in another disc. "What controls people more than fear? I've proposed state-of-the-art technology to the Traps Team. Technology that can find out someone's greatest fear, and replicate it. The tributes won't just be battling each other, but themselves as well!"

"Interesting," Porters said, stroking his thick beard. "But the whole fear tactic… isn't that too similar to the fourth quarter quell?"

"Not exactly," Essmay responded. "I thought about that. During the fourth quell, we interviewed our tributes to find out their greatest fears. Not only that, but the arena itself was modeled after a Haunted House. Everything was expected. The twist wasn't really a twist. This way, the fear traps are planted without anyone's knowledge. Not even the audience."

"And it's a mystical environment," one of the other Apprentice's pointed out. "No one would expect fear to be a component. They'll expect magical challenges and mythical creatures. Not burning homes or giant snakes."

Head Gamemaker Porters nodded in agreement. He leaned back and took off his glasses. The room was silent as he wiped them off and placed them back on his face. After what felt like ages, he took a gander around the room. "Does anyone else have a proposition?"

The room was so quiet, you could hear the low buzzing of the holographic projector. Gamemaker Dickens opened his mouth to speak.

"I think Essmay's idea is the best one we have," he said. "We should turn it in and get started building. We're already behind."

Everyone in the room muttered in agreement. I sighed and joined them. It's not like me to accept a Rookie's design, but we have no other choice.

"Very well then," Porters said, packing up the discs. "Essmay, it's pretty safe to say that after this, you'll be a full fledged Gamemaker. That is, if it's okay with my deputy." He turned to face me.

"Fine with me," I said, lying through my teeth. I hope this Essmay girl saw my scowl as she followed Porters out of the room.

A/N: Salutations Readers!

This SYOT has an idea I've had for a while. I haven't written fanfiction in years, but I wanted to write this so badly that I'm back.

At the moment there is no upload schedule, my life is pretty hectic at the moment with Marching Band Camp and Summer Reading. But once the school year starts and things get more organized, I plan to put things into place.

If you're interested in submitting a tribute, all the rules and information are on my bio page!

Until the next prologue chapter, I bid you farewell.

- Rascal Ratface