Hello, there, fanfiction readers and Hunger Games enthusiasts! Welcome to my SYOT! This chapter is one of a few prologues, all of which center around a Gamemaker. Please, for the love of god, read the rules and PM me all submissions. Any questions can go straight to my inbox, as well. Read on, fellow authors, and enjoy! (Reviews would be nice, too...)
THIS STORY IS AN AU. There was no second rebellion. Enobaria won the third Quarter Quell. The Hunger Games continued, just as horrifying as before.
As a Gamemaker, Yasmin Crofter saw a lot of things. Despicable things, terrifying things, brutal things. And still, she loved every moment.
She had a sort of sick fascination with the Hunger Games. The idea of children killing each other for sport amused her. She knew that she should probably be horrified, but for Yasmin, it was the very opposite.
In front of her was the blueprint for the newest arena. The 103rd Games would be special, and Yasmin and the other Gamemakers would make sure of that.
"Now, then," said the man in front of her. Calvin Grommet was the Head Gamemaker, a title that Yasmin desired so desperately. She was next in line, after all, and she didn't think that slot suited her one bit, especially not after working so hard to become Calvin's right-hand woman, his most trusted advisor. It was why she was the only one that he'd come to about the arena's traps and tricks; he only trusted her input. "What shall we add?"
She smiled, attempting to look sweet and innocent. "Perhaps a few more mutts?"
Calvin nodded. "I suppose." He rubbed his balding head in frustration. "This is difficult work... I could use a drink."
Yasmin giggled, taking a clearly aimless comment and using it as her opportunity to strike. "Allow me, sir." She stood and walked into the next room, picking up a wine bottle and a vial of dark red liquid. Looking around to make sure that no one was watching, she poured a single drop of the red liquid into the wine, then pouring the wine into a fancy-looking glass.
She took another wine bottle, the one without the liquid in it. She poured a glass for herself–not from the first bottle, of course. That was reserved for Calvin. (And anyone else who stood in her way, but that wasn't a lot of people at all. She made sure that they knew their place.)
She walked back into the room where they were doing the planning, making sure that she knew which glass was which. "Only the finest for you, sir."
Calvin's thin lips curled into a smile as he took a sip. His smirk turned into a look of horror as he swallowed, choking on the contents of the glass.
Yasmin laughed and took a sip of her own, un-poisoned wine. "Are you enjoying it?" she teased, watching the Head Gamemaker in amusement.
Calvin grasped the edge of the table, dropping his glass so that it shattered on the hardwood floor, spilling toxic wine everywhere. He struggled to breathe, his eyes wide with terror.
"Y-you..." he gasped. "Y-you tricked... me... how... how c-could you?"
Yasmin looked into Calvin's eyes. "I want power. And there's no better way to get it than to claw my way to the top. And if you were in my path..." she shrugged, her smile full of malice. "Oh, well."
She grabbed him by the shirt and stood him up, his legs wobbly and his muscles tense. "Goodbye, Calvin," she said as she let go. Calvin fell to the floor, his head hitting a shard of glass from his shattered cup. Blood spilled out of the wound, and Yasmin laughed at the thought that his death would only be so much quicker.
She knelt down and felt the pulse on his neck, careful to avoid the still-warm blood, hoping that he was finally out of the way.
His pulse was silent. She had won.
Yasmin picked up the phone and dialed the emergency number.
"Hello, this is the Capitol Emergency Hotline, how may I help you?"
Yasmin faked a sob. "The Head Gamemaker... he's dead."
Someone gasped on the other line. "What? What happened?"
Yasmin made sure that her voice was shaky and her breathing was uneven, to give the illusion of crying. "He... we were having a drink and talking about the arena, and... he just collapsed... some of his wine glass cut his head... I think he might've had a heart attack or something..."
"Okay, okay," the person on the phone panicked. "We'll be right over... stay there!"
Yasmin hung up and laughed again. She'd done it, gotten rid of the competition. Surely, she'd be Head Gamemaker now. It wasn't like they could track her–the poison was untraceable, and very rare.
She took one look at Calvin's motionless body and smiled.
The odds were clearly in her favor.
So, there's the first prologue. I know that it's horribly short, but it's mostly just to give you a feel for my writing style and offer a bit of insight on Yasmin's character. No, it's not the last you'll see of her. Far from it.
Now, there's the matter of tributes, the most important part of any Hunger Games story. Before you submit, please read ALL of the following rules. They'll be on my profile, as well, along with a tribute list. I'll be sure to PM you when I receive your character, and I'll say what I think of them, and if any changes need to be made.
1) FOLLOW THE FORM. I will not accept any OCs that are missing something. The things on the form are there for a reason, and I want no one disregarding them.
2) Mary Sue and Gary Stu characters will not be tolerated. (No Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Ways.) For advice on how not to do this, check out Annabeth-TheTributeThatLived's guide to creating a character.
3) NO CLONES. I do not want Katnisses, Peetas, Finnicks, Johannas, etc. Creativity and uniqueness is something that I always take into account, and clones will not be accepted no matter what.
4) PMS ONLY. I once did a SYOC with reviews, and OH MY GOD, was it hectic. I couldn't keep track of any of the characters, and had to eventually make a list in the Doc Manager (that's still really disorganized). I DO NOT WANT TO GO THROUGH THAT AGAIN. Also, just to make my life easier, please label your PM 'ETKM: Character Name'.
5) I will say this once, and once only. There is only one victor. I need characters that can die in the bloodbath. Just know that once you send your character, that's it. I write their actions. Keep that in mind when submitting, please.
6)Don't send me an abundance of District 2 girls who are ruthless and bloodthirsty. I want the tributes that are so out of the ordinary that I can't help but choose them. As stated above, I am looking for creativity. So... get creative! Show me what goes on in those wonderfully insane minds of yours!
7) Check the tribute list on my profile for filled slots. As soon as I can remember, I will update the page with all the tributes who've been accepted.
8) THIS IS NOT FIRST-COME FIRST-SERVE. I will NOT humor you because your tribute was first! I'll choose the best of the best, and ONLY the best of the best. One of two things will happen with each slot; I'll see an amazing character that I can't help but choose, or I'll get a bunch of good/okay characters that I'll need time to consider.
9) Do me a favor, will you? Don't pester me for updates or beg me to accept your character. I'm a thirteen-year-old girl with auditions and plays and homework. I can't promise quick updates, but I will try to give feedback on as many tributes as possible and update the list and the story as frequently as I can (Don't get your hopes up; that doesn't tend to be very often).
Well, that was a LOT of rules. On with the form!
Backup District (In case your preferred spot was full):
Skin (doesn't have to be white):
Distinguishable Features (please be realistic):
Fears (More than 1, please):
3+ Strengths (personality-wise):
3+ Weaknesses (personality-wise):
Overview (please be realistic, details):
Volunteered or Reaped?:
If volunteered, why? If reaped, what was their reaction?:
Chariot Costume Ideas:
What do they do?:
What do they present?:
3+ Strengths (in training):
3+ Weaknesses (in training):
Romance? (Just because you want it doesn't mean it'll happen):
Anything I should know?:
I apologize for the insanely long form, but I feel like all of that stuff is necessary. Please FILL OUT ALL OF IT, and PM me your characters! May the odds be ever in your tribute's favor!