If this was a dream then at least I've got
Memories for when morning comes
Now that I must leave with a heavy heart
Oooh, won-derland I love

Catalyst Beaumont

President of Panem, She/Her

(Games Operation Headquarters)

...

"Is it over?" I ask, my eyes still averted from the screen ahead.

"It is, ma'am. Quincy, Felix, and Wells have retreated from the cornucopia." Jacques Wilson replies in a chipper tone. He's a fine enough man, very effective as Head of Arena Production, but the pure joy he expresses while watching the games has always disturbed me.

It's not that I dislike the games, as I know they are very necessary. However, the entertainment side has always got to me. When my mother first proposed the idea of them, I was only a child and therefore had no say. When I grew older, I made it clear how much I resented them to my mother but, of course, she outright ignored the typical rebellious teenage behaviour.

My teenage side was destroyed long ago, though, along with my mother. And Catalyst died with her.

President Beaumont knows how important the Hunger Games are. President Beaumont can't risk yet another rebellion in the name of liberalism. No. My mother knew what she was doing, and I will not destroy the legacy that has kept the Capitol thriving for the last twenty-four years. Even if it does mean the unsettling murder of innocents once a year.

"The Arena is quite fabulous, Wilson." Barnaby Broth says in his near-deafening high-pitched voice. His pale, chubby face is red and drenched with sweat, as always, and he dabs at it with a handkerchief. "My mutts shall have a good time once we release them. Which would be when, exactly, Madam President?"

As eager to play around with his feral animals as always, Barnaby looks up at me with his large, pale blue eyes.

"Tomorrow." I reply, flicking through my journal and checking the rest of today's schedule.

"Yes, Ma'am. Also, I must say that I thoroughly enjoy the premise of the arena. You designed it yourself, didn't you?" He asks, and the rest of the gamemakers all look to me as if they've all been pondering a similar question.

The inspiration behind the arena came to me from a childhood book that my mother used to read to me before bed. It told of a young girl who wanted to explore the world but was tied down by the restrictions of her family. Yet, one day, she discovers an entirely new world of her own. I'd always imagined myself as the young girl, as I'd always wanted to explore Panem and the world outside of it without the overbearing name of Beaumont weighing down on me.

I consider telling the Gamemakers the story but decide against it. There's something personal about it, and the selfish part of me wants to keep the wonderful story between me and my mother. I can only hope she found her own Wonderland after that bullet flew through her head.

"Oh, just something I read awhile back." I shrug. "Nothing of importance."

"Well, I would certainly love to give it a read! The designs you gave me for these mutts are so extraordinary, and it would be inspiring to see them through the words of their author." Barnaby exclaims with an irritating enthusiasm.

Capitol, this man never stops talking.

"If I remember the name, you'll be the first one I tell." I smile at him, and he grins back. "Unfortunately, I have a meeting in a few minutes, so I'm going to have to be on my way."

The team of Gamemakers responds with an assortment of farewells as I slip into my cherry red coat.

"If any of you see Red, please tell him I'm looking for him." I say this before I leave, and the four of them nod in response.

It's odd for my husband to be missing on such a momentous occasion, especially as the Head Gamemaker. But like myself, he's a busy man, so I can't fault him if something comes up. I'm sure he'll clear it up with me tonight over steak and a glass of wine.

As I approach the conference room, I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. The hallways are empty when they should be bustling with interns and Gamemakers alike, and the air is filled with an eerie silence that causes me to open the door with caution. As soon as I do, the sound of hushed voices envelops my surroundings.

Oddly, the room is soundproof, so there isn't a need for whispering, and the meeting isn't due to start for five minutes.

"Hello?" I call out as I enter through the door, and three heads swivel in my direction.

"Oh, thank God, you're here." Red says, standing abruptly. "Another Victor has been taken."

A/N: Relatively short chapter as it's just an interlude to move along the subplot and also show the reasoning behind the Arena.

Doing a double update since I know this is short and I've kept you waiting awhile for day one of the Games!

- Neb