Interludes before the 5th Hunger Games

Fjord Nightingale - 1st Hunger Games Victor
District 1 - Age: 21

"Fjord. I'm sorry about this, but you deserve to win more than I do."

That's what Autumn said. She was his district partner four years ago. Fjord was dying, and Autumn made a decision.

One that he doesn't agree with to this day.

There's a gravestone in front of Fjord, it says: HERE LIES AUTUMN SOVANA - OUR FIRST SACRIFICE.

He didn't want her to lose - to die. It should've been him that died that day. Why did she have to be so selfish? Fjord thought angrily, and not for the first time. It was the opposite of what he'd ever want from her. Fjord made a promise to protect her, and he didn't accomplish it. No, he failed. 'A man's word is his bond', and Fjord failed to complete that saying.

Fjord crouched, putting flowers next to the tomb. He sighed, "I hope you're doing well Autumn. Wherever you are. I'm having a tough time right now. The Hunger Games is only getting started and I've failed others."

Six tributes, all died. Who knows how many more in the future.

"I thought about joining you," Fjord admitted. "But I can't. Maybe later. I thought about this logically and that if I can't get anyone back this year, I promise I'll join you."

This is a promise he wants to keep. So badly, but later.

"See you later." He stood up and left the cemetery. It wasn't all that bad of a place to rest, Fjord thought. It's simple and cleaner than one would think. District One could've done worse when the Rebellion was over.

Fjord's family wasn't poor, but it wasn't wealthy. After he 'won' the Hunger Games, he had much in the way of currency. A lot - actually. He got a bigger house, nearly a mansion. It was mostly for his parent's sake, however. He could've done with a humbler home.

Once he was in his house, the TV was on and the screen showed Patrick Roseforge.

That piece of Capitolite garbage, that was Fjord's permanent opinion of the famed Head Gamemaker and founded of the Hunger Games. Panem would have been better without him.

"Hello, citizens of Panem!" Patrick Roseforge started on top of the presidential building, and the crowd below cheered.

Arabella Tamon - 2nd Hunger Games Victor
District 4 - Age: 22

Arabella shot a dart from above her dinner table and it landed right in that small red spot she painted in the wall.

"Did you seriously do that?"

Monica Tamon said that. The younger sister crossed her arms, looking quite disappointed. The two of them always had a strong relationship, it was even stronger after Arabella volunteered to take her sister's place in the Hunger Games. It was scary, sure, but Arabella could've - and did - handle it. She was a rebel soilder before this.

The older sister grinned. "My house, my rules."

That's true. Winning the Hunger Games does give a neat prize. Like a lot of money. Arabella could perhaps buy five houses if she chooses to.

Monica huffed, "Your insufferable."

"Yeah..." Arabella smiled, but then turned bitter. "You know, the Hunger Games is turning up again."

"I know," Monica took a seat at the dinner table. "What are the chances of us winning?"

"Not much," the older Tamon admitted. "You know, I was thinking about training other kids in Four. Make them better prepared."

"That's illegal," Monica argued.

Arabella rolled her eyes. "Just a thought. But if it were possible, we should jump on it."

"I suppose it would improve our chances," Monica agreed, then she reached for the remote and turned on the TV. She blinked at seeing a particular person on the screen. "Oh, it's Patrick Roseforge. Wonder why it's not the President?"

Because it's Hunger Games related, most likely, Arabella guessed. The two Roseforge brothers are more fun than most people from the District's would realize, Patrick Roseforge more than President Roseforge - but Arabella can't help but agree that his punishments could be less orthodox.

"For this year's Hunger Games, there's going to be a bit of a change."

Rosa Weaver - 3rd Hunger Games Victor
District 8 - Age: 19

It's been lonely since she won her Games. Not that it means much, she's always been alone. Alone in the orphanage, and alone in the Hunger Games.

There's nothing for her to do but read and sleep in the nice home she bought. The money, at least, almost makes the death games worth it. Almost. Yet, it's so annoying. Sure, she killed other kids, and they didn't mean much to her, but in her silence, Rosa thinks of them. The only one she has nightmares about is her monster of a district partner, Aziz, who she had to kill.

But most days, it's 'whatever'.

Maybe she should get some company. Maybe a family. Agh, she thinks. Too much responsibility and commitment. Maybe one kid. That sounds a hundred times better than an annoying family.

Rosa was on the couch, and she was watching a little comedy show that makes her laugh once or twice... in a year. Then suddenly, the show changed and showed an image of Patrick Roseforge.

Fucker, Rosa gave her generous opinion.

"I have decided that every 5 years there's going to be a little change in the Hunger Games. An interesting little twist to make things more interesting."

Gunther Bryan - 4th Hunger Games Victor
District 11 - Age: 18

He liked to believe his life has improved. For him, the Hunger Games was a long-gone ordeal, but that's going to take a bit longer than a year. Gunther had a decent life, all things considered.

But he took lives to make it better - that doesn't just go away. You'd have to be a monster if it doesn't.

Gunther was good with weapons, his father and himself thought that asking some business partners for tips and advice with guns, swords, or other weapons he would have to use with the knowledge in using it in self-defense or Gunther's case, the Hunger Games.

He'd never thought that he'd win. Maybe in the two large alliance's that formed in his year, but not with him. He thought it was a long shot, but he did what he had to - what was necessary for him to win. It's not like Gunther liked what he did. And now - he's scared of holding a weapon. He can't even trust himself with a kitchen knife for some reason.

Perhaps, he's punishing himself.

He hates being scared like this - around weapons. He has so much knowledge about them.

Gunther doesn't know what to do right now, but he'll figure it out. Work out his nightmares and beat them. Right now, he can rest. He liked to believe that he earned it.

The TV was on, and Gunther glared at the man on the screen. This can't be good, he figured. Patrick Roseforge never brings anything good when he shows his face before the Hunger Games starts.

"And in the 5th Hunger Games, the first-ever Quarter Quell as I like to call it," the maker of the death game chuckled. "As a reminder that rebels liked to bring weapons instead of pen and paper to a peace conference, token's are allowed to be any weapon the tributes so brings."

This game already sounds short and bloody.

Patrick Roseforge, 25 - Head Gamemaker

This job... is more taxing than he thought it would be. Patrick rubs his eyes from the absurdity. Seriously, cost budget!? Who knew killing twenty-four children would be so expensive. Technically, the economy is still reeling in since the Rebellion ended six years ago - to Patrick, that feels like yesterday - and that's why he needs to make what the games cheep.

That's right. The Quarter Quell was made for saving money. There's only so much to go around. Patrick figures they could simple take the money those District's rebel bastards, but he isn't well educated in the financial department, so what does he know.

The past five years have been challenging, but it's nothing Patrick can't handle. The arena proposals tend to be too much on the nose, and it was supposed to be, for testing purposes, and fear management. Now the financiers don't think we have enough, so he may as well make the Games more interesting in the process.

Whatever the case, he had a meeting with the President to attend.

Patrick made his way and pushed through some heavily decorated doors. The room he's currently in is a very important office, being the presidential office and all that.

"Alex! How do ya do?!" Patrick greeted, all cheery-like.

The president looked up from his computer, and his eyes narrowed at him. "What are you doing?" he said sternly.

"Oh, you know, just walking, making games, what about you?"

"I'm not in the mood for games, Roseforge."

"Aham, maybe you should. Remove that stick up your ass."

The Head Gamemaker grinned, and the President stood up from his chair, looking cold. The two stared competitively at each other...

and then the two exploded with laughter.

"HAHA! Oh My God! You were like 'hey, I'm a badass scary prez, I'll execute you' and all that nonsense."

"And you were so arrogantly stupid, walking in like you owned the place," Alex chuckled softly.

Yes, these were the two most powerful human beings of Panem. Both of them are brothers. Their are differences and similarities between them. Patrick is the younger brother, but he's taller and has a brown mullet. Alex is the older brother, with a well-cut hairdo. And while Patrick has regular hazel eyes, Alex decided to take on with the trend in physical alteration. The President changed his eye color to dark purple, finding the color to fit when he's glaring at others. If Alex wanted to; he can be threatening.

Sadly, it's his default where his job is concerned.

At least he can still trust Patrick, thankfully.

Alex laughed and then got stern again. "Seriously, if it was anyone else, I'd most likely have to imprison or execute you."

"No, I get it. Don't worry," Patrick reassured. Politics, he wonders. So scary, good thing I let Alex do it while I handle the fun part of our little operation.

Whatever the case, both brothers already handled any political enemies this decade had to offer, and the threat of jail-time might not be worth the protest for many Capitolites. It's a dirty business, being a benevolent tyrant. But someone has to be, why not a Roseforge?

"It is good to see you, brother," Alex said warmly. Brother? So ever formal since he became prez.

"You too," said the Head Gamemaker. "But let's get down to business. How did you think of my announcement?"

"It was alright, as usual," he replied sullenly. "I suppose there are some concerns. Namely, what type of weapons the tributes are allowed to use? I expect there is some condition from the tributes pointing their weapons at us - such as the guns."

"Of course, I updated the neckbomb's," Patrick said, smiling widely, too widely perhaps. "If those dirty numbers ever decide to point a pistol at me - Boom! It'll be the last thing those vicious little bastards will do."

"..."

Something's on his mind. It's probably going to be about me, isn't it?

"What?"

Alex didn't look him in the eyes as he put his head down. "Do you think this is the right thing to do?"

"What? The Quarter Quell? Well, I mean, sure, it'll be quick this year, but hopefully, the budget will improve later-"

"You know that's not what I meant," Ale- no, the President, sternly cut off. "Don't you think you're taking too much joy in this. They are still children."

Patrick grumbled, and refuted, "Yeah, children from numbered districts. What? Do their lives suddenly matter?"

"... Mars wouldn't want this," he said bluntly.

The Head Gamemaker grounded his teeth, now glaring at his brother. "Mars is dead! Our friend wanted peace, but he didn't get it. I said it already to the crowd 'The rebels liked to bring weapons instead of a pen and paper to a peace conference' and we both know how fucking true that is. That was a fact, Mars died because he was too stupid to realize that there is no peace between us and Numbers. The Hunger Games are made to avenge him, and everyone else we lost!"

Alex stared blankly during and after Patrick's angry rant. "Mars still wouldn't want this."

"You agreed to the Hunger Games, Alex. You agreed, and I think it's a bit too late to change it," Patrick said harshly. Sure, he'll regret it later, but right now, he doesn't care.

"It is," he nodded. "I was angry at the time. Rightfully so, but now that anger has cooled. And perhaps, punishing the young for their parent's mistakes is too unfair."

"It isn't," Patrick said coldly. Funny, it seems like they trade places, he thought the President was supposed to be the cold merciless one here. "They're getting what they deserve. Besides, it's not going to be forever. Just twenty-five years."

"Yes, five hundred and seventy-five dead children when this business is done," he counted, look's like the prez thought about this. Also, there will possibly be more than that when all this is done. Best not tell him that.

"Besides that - I'm more worried about you, brother," Alex says.

"Hm?" Patrick hummed, confused.

"You've grown more vengeful and ruthless when all of this started. It scares me at times, little brother."

"I'm doing better than ever," he replied, annoyed. He pointed his thumb at the door. "So, can I go now, or do we have more to discuss?"

"We're done here. You can leave," dismissed the older brother.

And so Patrick Roseforge went out, not wanting to discuss anymore soft feeling about his work. Patrick can't be soft. He won't be. And neither should his brother when the two of them have life-changing positions to make in Panem.

A phone called, the Gamemaker picked it up. It was just some employe.

"What is it?"

"Sir, it's the talking lion, the one from last year. It went out and ate another cleaner. Can we authorize to kill the dam mutt?"

"No," Patrick said. "Feed it some prisoners, we got a bunch of those. End of discussion."

"Oh yeah. Great. That's like - one step above a war crime."

"What was that?"

"Right on it boss!" the phone hanged up after that.

Patrick grinned. It's good to be him sometimes.

I tried to make an SYOT - instead, let's just get a chapter with closer looks to all these characters. The ones who survive and those who control the Hunger Games and the lives of all those 24 kids.

Any, 5th Hunger Games/1st Quarter Quell - coming out soon!