Prologue: We're almost there

Olympia Phyrrus (57).
Head Gamemaker.

It had been a long and glorious nine years, but everything had to come to an end. With her tenth year looming, Olympia was looking forward to going out with a bang. A Quarter Quell nonetheless. It would be pitched by the media as a solemn affair; tears and handkerchiefs galore but, counting on riding high on a wave of praise, Olympia was sure that it wouldn't be on her end. A happy occasion it would be in her household, no longer an apartment stuffed to the brim with self doubt and carefully chosen words.

Just her, her cat Bowie, and the bottle of wine tucked away in one of the kitchen cupboards that she had always put off drinking for a special occasion. Olympia was never too partial to the taste of the oddly sweet alcohol that the Capitol stocked, but it was a nice treat once in a while. Her ex-husband liked to drink himself silly on the stuff, a damned fool if you asked her. He'd blame it on the wine, the constant missteps that he'd make, but she'd never believed that. It wasn't as if there was much going on upstairs in that head of his; simply put, the zombie sure wouldn't chase him in the event of an apocalypse.

"I'm going to be late to the announcement." She said bluntly, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Bowie mewled seemingly in agreement from where he was perched on the bathroom counter. "Well," she switched the light off, making her way to the kitchen where Bowie settled beside her feet. She switched on her coffee machine. "Might as well make it worth it, huh? What are they going to do? Fire me?" Her loud laugh bounced off the tile walls. Bowie tilted his head.

"Humour is wasted on you." Olympia patted the cats head once her coffee was done brewing and her heels were on. "I'll see you later, Little Man."

Her heels clacked on the streets as she made her way to the head quarters. Oh how Olympia hoped that the people continued to part for her on the streets once her time was up; it almost made her feel giddy every time a citizen moved out of her way with a quick apology. Power was, for sure, one intoxicating potion. It was too bad that she'd have to start weaning herself off of it sooner rather than later.

She reached the building with little time to spare, a quick touch up of her make up all that was able to be done before she was seated on the stage. Folded hands on her lap, the biggest smile she was able to muster. Thinking of the weeks ahead, the entertainment of another spectacular Hunger Games, and that bottle of wine calling out her name.

President Hornsby greeted her tersely as her emerged from the make up department himself. Olympia returned the nod, unable to keep the corner of her lips from tugging downward as her dull ex-husband turned away and took to the stage, waiting for the go ahead that they were live. It had always boggled her how the man had captured the attention of those in the Capitol enough to weasel his way into power. He was a dull and low-spirited as a rebel being marched to the chopping block.

Olympia, and half of the production crew, were almost asleep by the time that he finally moved on to announcing the twist. She didn't doubt that the Capitolites were the same on their plush couches. Leave it to President Hornsby to drag down the mood of an entire nation just by existing.

"As a reminder to the districts that the Capitol was not given ample time to prepare for the war waged across Panem, the tributes will only be in the Capitol for one day and night before they enter the arena. The reapings will be conducted in secret and the tribute will be taken from their homes, with the training day televised across the Capitol in order to make up for the lack of chariot rides and interviews this year. The districts, however, will be left in the dark regarding their tributes until the bloodbath. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour."

A clamour rose from the crowd as Olympia clapped her hands in delight. A fine twist and less of a headache for her. The glorious night of her freedom was heading ever closer, with the prospect of a shorter Games ahead. A fine twist indeed.


Hopefully you enjoyed this prologue and it spurs you to submit. The way this will work; we will get 12 POVs of tributes being taken, 12 POVs of train rides and then one POV of each tribute in their short time at the Capitol. The first and second sets of twelve will likely be based on what order I receive them in; the first tribute in a district will be the one who gets I intend to have the POV of being taken, and the second the train ride. More than likely in groups of three to speed things up. Similarly we will have 12 morning Capitol POVs and 12 evening Capitol POVs.

The form will be on my profile if you enjoyed this prologue. Looking forward to writing your guys' tributes!