Puer Begonia, 30, Head Gamemaker

July 31, Year 77

The Arbors – Capitol Luxury Apartments

Puer stepped into her apartment, closing and locking the door behind her. She twisted the doorknob a couple of times just to make sure the deadbolt was securely in place before slipping her keys on a nearby hook and kicking her hot pink heels carelessly to one side.

Another year in the books.

She should have felt happy, but relieved would have been the more apt term.

Puer sighed and went immediately to change out of her business attire and into something a little more comfortable, as well as wash her makeup off. She always hated the stuff and only applied enough to make her presentable, but by the end of the day, she could feel it on her face and just wanted nothing more than to rip it off.

As soon as Puer stepped into the bathroom, she decided that a shower would be the best course of action. She had no plans on leaving her apartment for the rest of the evening. Everything was handled at the office.

Of course, she'd eventually need to emerge, give interviews, and prepare for the closing ceremonies, but that could wait. Puer could afford a few hours of rest, especially since Kaia Blanken was in good hands in the Remake Center.

Puer turned on the shower and let the steam fill the room. The tension began to roll out of her, and it occurred to her just how achy she was, probably from being so nervous the past few days. Perhaps she could find an hour, and go get a massage. Perhaps.

Once the water temperature was suitable for her, she stepped into the shower and let the water wash her worries away. Most of them, anyway.

Kaia Blanken, Victor of the Seventy-Seventh Hunger Games. District Twelve's first Victor since the Second Quarter Quell. She was a suitable victor, Puer supposed, and the Games were an overall success, but they were not perfect.

They were good enough for her to keep her life, but simply not good enough.

The Seventy-Sixth Games were as chaotic as expected. Lots of pieces to pick up, several Reapings to fix, and several tributes that turned out to be questionable at best. The arena was a desert campground, abandoned for years and consisting of mountains, a river, several canyons, and snakes. Lots and lots of snakes. Puer shuddered at the reminder. At least the javelinas looked cute…before they ripped a couple of tributes to shreds. Puer thanked her lucky stars that it was Mako who won in the end. She was the safest choice, especially after what happened in the Quell. She was incredibly popular in the Capitol, and easy enough to control.

The Seventy-Seventh Hunger Games, however, was the year Puer had to prove herself. Last year was just dipping her toes in the water. This year, she really had to go all out, and she did, with ruins from a city that dated to what the history books called "the Victorian Era." She was so proud of that arena. It was such a shame that Kaia had to go and burn it down. The Games were a huge hit. A good start. However, Puer knew she had a long way to go.

With any hope of relaxing out the window, Puer cleaned herself up, stepped out of the shower, dried off, and threw on a simple silk robe. Her communicuff buzzed, and she quickly picked it up. A message scrolled across the screen. It was from Caelus.

You did great this year, sis! How do you feel?

Puer had never been so thankful for the loss of emotional context within text messages. She quickly tapped out a response. I feel pretty good. Glad you enjoyed!

It didn't take long for another message to appear.

Do you want to come to our place for dinner? It's been a while since we've gotten a chance to hang out. The kids have been asking about you.

Puer sighed. As much as she wanted to, she was drained, so very drained. Besides, she had closing ceremonies to plan, next year's Games to think about, history books to read, mutts to dream up, and so much to do. At least those could be done from the comfort of her own home.

Sorry, but I'm worn out. May stay in tonight. Rain check?

Puer made it to her little forest-themed reading nook, the pride and joy of her apartment before the next response came.

That's fine. Don't overdo it, okay?

Puer typed out one final response. Don't worry about me. Tell the Lars and the kids I said hi, okay?

Puer felt guilty. This wasn't the first time she turned down the opportunity to see her family, and with her line of work, it wasn't going to be the last. Besides, her mind had already begun moving, and she found herself reaching for a nearby book, one on old tourist attractions. Several were from before the Dark Days, gifted to her by her brother long ago. Others were on loan from a library, and she had conveniently lost them, paid them off, and simply kept them in her shelf.

After about half an hour, it got a little too quiet for Puer. She found herself reaching for the remote that controlled the nearby radio and turned it on. She flinched when it came to life with a roar of sound and Puer found herself juggling the remote, scrambling for the volume button and pressing down on it until the radio was almost muted. She must have sat on it the last time she fell asleep here.

She really had to stop doing that…

Puer slowly reached for the volume up button, like it was one of those snakes from last year's arena, ready to bite, and carefully raised the volume until it was at her liking. Quiet enough to not disturb her, loud enough to properly fade into the background. Perfect.

Puer then began flipping through the stations, trying to find a song that fit her mood. She stopped when the sound of synths began filling her ears. Puer cocked her head to one side, deep in thought. It sounded like jazz, futuristic yet old at the same time.

"What is this?" she thought. "It sounds nice."

She listened for a long while, before thinking to ask the AI installed in her apartment about it.

"This genre of music is known as vaporwave," a friendly female voice replied. "It is defined partly by its slowed-down, chopped, and screwed samples of different varieties of music popular prior to Panem's founding. It is considered to be a retro-revivalist and post-Internet motifs."

Puer looked back down at her book, then back at the radio. Her face crinkled in thought before her eyes went wide as the ideas started to formulate in her head.

Retro-revivalist...

Puer immediately scrambled for her tablet, opened up the notetaking application, and quickly began writing.

The Seventy-Sixth Games were passable.

The Seventy-Seventh Games were an improvement.

The Seventy-Eighth Games, however, were going to be perfect.

They had to be.

And that's all for the prologues! I hope you enjoyed this little snapshot of how Puer is doing! She's a perfectionist, that's for sure, and pink is still her color. I also thought a cozy vibe was something she would totally go for in her apartment. Unfortunately, her job is taking her away from her family. Time will tell if she finally finds her stride in this upcoming Hunger Games or burns out.

Intros will start next! I don't know if I'll start posting them just yet. It will be next Monday at the earliest, after the first of the year at the latest. It depends on how chaotic things get between the holidays and the upcoming wedding. Hopefully, after the first of the year, I'll be able to settle into a schedule. I'm thinking Single Moment Mondays have a nice ring to them!

See you next time, when we will be meeting our kiddos from District One: Safira and Caden!