(TW: Graphic descriptions of a corpse)

Lanai Hollister, 22

Head Gamemaker of Panem

It's no secret within the Capitol elite that Graciela Purdue's death was not a suicide. That, of course, includes Lanai, who knows it better than anyone. The only problem is that none of the Capitol elite care. They were all glad to have Graciela out of the Presidential Mansion, no matter who took her place.

Because another thing that is not a secret within the Capitol elite is that Graciela was planning to end the Hunger Games. The plans had been discovered shortly after her supposed-suicide, and then locked away from prying eyes so the news would never spread to the public.

Still, Lanai has seen them, and the first step has already been completed. After the conclusion of last year's Games, Graciela announced that going forward, two tributes would be able to win the Hunger Games provided they hail from the same District. It had been the first step in a thirty yearlong plan to put an end slowly and peacefully to the Hunger Games.

Maybe it would have worked. Lanai isn't sure, and she'll never get to know. Because now Ezra Renius is president, and he wouldn't end the Hunger Games if she put a gun to his head.

So, here Lanai is. Planning her very first Hunger Games as Head Gamemaker. At least this time around, she gets to create the arena and be at the top from the start, instead of being thrust into the role the night before the Games begin.

But it's not entirely in her hands. It hasn't been in her hands since Ezra Renius put a bullet in Graciela Purdue's head.

After the mess that came of last year's finale, Ezra is looking for something to horrify the Districts. Apparently, Bishop Smirnov had the perfect thing right up his sleeve. Lanai can't imagine Silas ever greenlighted it, so it must have been Bishop's pet project.

Right now, Lanai needs to tread lightly. Ezra wants Smirnov's project to go through, so Lanai needs to let it. She is walking a tightrope—any wrong move could destroy everything she has worked for. The days where she wanted to burn it all down are gone. Now she has learned how to play the game, and if everything goes to plan, she will be the one saying checkmate.

But for now, she needs Ezra to think he is winning.

He already tried to convince her to rig the Victor he chose. Lanai had shut him up with some bullshit about letting the arena choose its victor.

But he wants Bishop's project to appear in this year's Games, so Lanai will let it happen. Apparently, he's had a breakthrough, and it'll be ready in time for summer.

Which is…great. Lanai produced fabricated excitement when she heard the news, but she's not sure she'll be able to keep it up for the actual demonstration.

It doesn't matter. Her hands are tied.

She steps off the elevator into the mutt lab, eyeing the various cages of half-finished mutts lining the walls. There's several techs sitting at desks, typing, doing calculations, or whatever it is that they do. Lanai was never particularly interested in mutt creation.

"Where's Smirnov?" Lanai asks the nearest tech. "I'm here for a demonstration of his… newest creation."

The tech points to a door at the end of the room. There's a sign on it that reads CAUTION! DO NOT ENTER which makes Lanai feel extremely confident.

She enters without knocking. The room is dark, only lit by a desk lamp. Smirnov is leaned over a table, feverishly scribbling something on a paper. Beside his desk, there's a large glass enclosure, and Lanai can see something vaguely humanoid moving around inside.

"Smirnov," she says. "I understand you have something to show me."

He looks up from his work, a grin appearing on his face. "Yes, yes, I do. Please, sit back—and bask in the glory of my masterpiece." There's a manic look on his face and Lanai notices for the first time that his teeth are sharpened into points.

Smirnov steps up to the enclosure and taps on the glass. Whatever is inside startles and Bishop says, "Behold—the next generation of Hunger Games mutts."

He flicks on a light switch, and Lanai flinches.

The creature is, to put it lightly, absolutely disgusting. Its skin is discolored and sickly. Its shirt and pants appear to be stained with a suspicious crimson liquid. What may have once been blond hair is now a nest of blood and grime, obscuring its head from view. It's swaying where it stands, gray-skinned hands grappling against its clothes as if it's trying to balance itself.

"What...is it?" Lanai asks uncertainly.

"You'll see," Bishop answers, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. The creature begins to turn around, its movement slow and almost painful.

There is nothing in the world that could have ever prepared Lanai for the sight of the creature's face and torso. It elicits an almost violent reaction from her; she physically recoils, eyes wide, and chokes out, "Oh-oh."

One of its eyes is entirely missing from its socket, replaced, instead, with a crusty red void. Its other eye isn't much better; what must have once been a very pretty blue is now soulless and unnerving. Just below that sits a deep gash which runs from its empty socket to its left ear. Blood has dried on its dead, gray skin, crusting and peeling all across its face.

The creature stares at her, wide-eyed, as she gains the courage to venture downward.

Lanai has seen a lot of shit in her time in Panem. She grew up in the Capitol, surrounded by the bloodshed of the Games. She's spearheaded an entire Hunger Games, watched children be chopped up and decapitated and burnt alive.

But she has made it her business to never see the aftermath; even after dragging half-dead tributes from the area, she shoved them into the hands of doctors until they were healed.

And, of course, she has never seen one of those corpses up and about, mindlessly wandering around a glass box.

What appears to be its large intestine is hanging from the gaping hole in its side. Dried blood encrusts the area around the wound, which provides a lovely window into a human's rotting insides. The tips of its fingers appear to be decaying, little holes poked through gray skin. The remains of its shirt are shredded and crusted with blood, leaving it wearing rags and a familiar pair of tattered pants.

The creature is, undoubtedly, the reanimated corpse of Clash Winston.

"It's...er, well, very impressive," Lanai says in her best attempt to keep her voice even. "What does it...do?"

"Would you like a demonstration?" Bishop asks, almost beside himself with excitement. An uncanny grin spreads across his face as he claps his hands together, looking like a giddy child on Capitolmas morning.

"I think I'll live without one," Lanai says quickly, but Bishop has already called for an Avox.

"Trust me; you're going to want to see this," Bishop says, eyeing his creation with barely-concealed glee.

"Can't you get a pig or something?" Lanai says annoyedly as said Avox enters the lab. Avoxes are precious to her; ears to hear what goes on around the Capitol, ears that no one thinks are listening. She's already floundering after Shallow Shamir was shot last summer. He was the ringleader of her Avox cable, but so long as he's alive he can never go back to work.

"Hm," Bishop says. "No, I don't think I will."

He directs the Avox—a stout woman with light skin and dark hair—into the corpse's enclosure. Lanai's shoulders tense, watching the Avox uncertainly move toward the creature as if approaching a rabid dog.

It seems like an appropriate response.

The creature stares at the Avox, eyes and limbs twitching, intestines swaying, hands lifting like a poor imitation of a human being.

"Really, Bishop, this isn't necessary -"

Without warning, the creature springs forward and tears the Avox to shreds. Lanai forces herself to watch, trying to not imagine what next year's tributes will be subjected to if this monstrosity is of any indication.

Blood, organs, limbs and whatever else is left when a human is torn to pieces splatters on the glass. Then, bizarrely, the creature sits down on the ground, tucks its legs toward its stomach, and sucks its thumb. Lanai watches it with morbid curiosity, wondering if it is capable of thought.

"Is it…finished?" Lanai asks.

"Why do you ask?"

"Tributes will have a very difficult time fighting them if they tear them to shreds in seconds," Lanai says. "You need to make them easier to fight off."

Bishop gives a theatrical sigh. "Fine. I'll look into it." He pauses, glancing at the creature in the cage. "but, yes, they are not finished yet. I'd like to make them move faster. And then I've got a couple of headless specimens I'd like to work with…"

Lanai purses her lips, looking the creature up and down. It's watching her now, empty, wide eye following her movements.

It isn't breathing. Lanai doesn't know why she expected it to be.

"It's not...actually the reanimated corpse of a dead tribute, of course? Simply a...recreation?" she asks, turning back to Bishop.

Bishop barks out a hearty laugh. "Of course it's a reanimated corpse. I take my work very seriously, Lanai—I've been trying to perfect it for years, and when Ezra heard my idea…" He trails off, seeming caught up in a memory.

"Smirnov," Lanai says, unimpressed.

"Hm, yes, well. After I successfully brought a few doves back from the dead, we sent all of the tributes' families empty coffins. I kept all of the real bodies on ice and...here we are." He gestures to Clash Winston like a proud father, seeming to expect praise.

"Well." Lanai swallows. "That's some dedication."

Smirnov looks back at the cage, and creature inside looks up slowly. It stares at Bishop, almost as if angered that he's done this to it. "Clash here is the only one to work so far; some of the bodies are far too damaged to bring back, some of them just aren't good specimens...but we'll have enough successes by next summer to have an arena full of them."

Several images flash before Lanai's eyes:

Wonder Hammerfort, eaten alive by a slug with an annoying voice.

Rylan Darlux, skin melted off by scalding water.

Angelis Keeper, jaw torn off his face.

Joba Hatch, head separated from his shoulders.

"Mm," says Lanai, biting her tongue to hide her horror. "Have many tributes do you have? How many years have we been graverobbing children?"

Bishop gives her a disgusted look. Lanai can't figure out if he's disgusted because she doesn't approve, or disgusted because she is a Gamemaker just like him. Finally, he answers with a certain air of superiority, "I perfected the solution a few weeks after the end of the One-Hundredth, Forty-Ninth. We've been saving them for...what, five years?"

The image of twenty-three twelve-year-old corpses, hanging in a freezer for years presses its way into her mind. She doesn't remember how most of them died, but fuck. Maniac Smirnov has so much—too much—to work with.

She offers him a nod before ducking out of the lab, intent on avoiding any more "demonstrations" before next year's Games.

Well, Ezra's going to get exactly what he wants. The Districts will be horrified, but that's not really the best approach to squashing a rebellion.

A/N: Well, here we go again. It's going to be a wild one.

This is my fourth SYOT. All the rules and information about submitting can be found on my profile. Submissions will tentatively close March Nineteenth, 2023.

In case you are unfamiliar with my verse, or just forgot what happened in Die A Hero because it's been three and a half years, Clash was the District One Male and died after an eagle mutt torn out his eye and organs. I don't even think it's the most gruesome death I've ever done in one of these, but it's definitely up there.

I hope you'll consider submitting!

-Amanda