Some people say reality is nothing but a cruel illusion. They say that reality can be dangerous; and make people think in weird ways. For some, reality is bliss; enchanting even. And for others, it's cold and demeaning, something that makes you shudder beneath frail covers. Reality rest upon the shoulders of those attempting to acquire power above all others. They try and tell you that it isn't. They'll say that power revolves around its citizens.

And more than anything; they lie.


Presidents hold spots of bishops and crowns as they sneak about the board in pristine white gowns. The others are simply pawns for their games, knocked to the ground if they fail among the frames. While others watch out for obvious threats, the crown slivers to power and wins the game of chess.

President Revlon Hathe.

Above all, a leader is smart.

Smart, yes, but not in the ways you would think of it. The people believe that the president is intelligent in the ways of math and science. Or perhaps reading and language. And they're right; just not in the ways they think they are.

A president is smart in math. It takes one, two, three drinks for one to become drunk and spill all their secrets. A president is smart in science. They know that a simple berry can be just as deadly as chloroformic acid. Or maybe reading. Reading peoples behaviors and actions to learn whether or not they speak the truth. And language. A president must always know what to tell its citizens after all.

Yes, presidents are very intelligent.

My name is Revlon Hathe, and as of current, I rule Panem. The districts would say that the Games put into play here are…as we say…cruel?

Yet, they don't realize how essential they are.

For a nation to function things need to be kept under control. My control, specifically. All of the other presidents have had failures when it came to controlling our nation. President Sharp, the first ruler of Panem, led everyone into the Dark Days and out, with a game that had little to no excitement. Then President Snow, who let a revolution evolve due to a girl with berries, a braid, and a bow. Then Coin, who was shot days after acquiring power. But Coin, as it is, was probably the smartest of them all. It was with rubbery fingers that she climbed the ladder of power among the others and she hid her secrets well.

The people simply say that she wanted power to feel in control.

I am not one of those people.

The president wanted power because power is held above everyone else. The one In power is the one everyone must look out for, the one that everyone must speak truthfully too. The one that everyone watches out for as well, because the biggest fact about someone in power…

They're not there by coincidence.

"Revlon darling, these Games are going to be such a splash." Says my stylist, Gihn.

"Do you know what they quell twist is?" He asks me, obviously prying for information to bet with.

I know it of course, I'm the president. These arenas are made up throughout the year; the ideas thought up throughout history. But this particular year I am intrigued by. Never has a quell been like this, and I'm interested to see what the tributes will make of it.

I myself have walked through parts of the vast arena, parts that are included, to fit along the lines of the tributes ideas themselves. And I can't even imagine the fears that will be placed into the Games this year.

"No, I don't." I tell him, and stand up, walking out of the glittery room.

Though most citizens in the Capitol find the pretentious clothes here to be of the best, I don't. In all honesty, I find them distracting and dull. Dull, as in the intelligence in the person. No wonder the districts have always been smarter than the people here. They don't focus on petty things such as themselves.

But if the districts knew that, they would use it to their greatest advantage, and that's not happening during my term.

I walk around backstage, thinking to myself about the reading of the card that is about to happen. The districts probably think that the Games are rigged every year; that we don't use the actual card. In a regular year, such is true. But I've pledged to myself to use an original card for each and every quell. Not in their order exactly, but a card among the box at the least.

This year's quell is incredibly interesting. I'll give at least some of our ancestor's props; they got creative and quite daft when it came to these ideas.

I pace around the room some more and stop before a mirror, staring into the reflection of the women I've become.

For a Capitol citizen, I would say I appear strangely normal.

I have white blonde hair and pale blue eyes, with bright red lipstick spread across my Capitol known smile. Some call me Red Revlon, a name I take a liking to among the Districts. Sometimes I hear it with awe. Other times I hear it with bitter hate.

But their opinions don't matter to me. I'm the president. And I can do as I please.

The moment has finally approached for the reading of the card.

The entire sea of Capitol citizens awaits my presence in the town square, and as I sit in my throne, gazing upon the area, I can't help but remember the tributes of the past few Games strolling through the center on their chariots and costumes. From the front, I can see a memory of the District One girl, Esmerelda, a girl who I personally liked. She was great for the audiences, and I even felt a bit pitiful when I sent in mutts to kill her.

Farther back, I can remember Talia, the small, weak District Seven girl. Her stylist has finally made a splash by transforming her into a hovering woodland fairy, and she had simply floated above the others like a queen. I remember her smile. She didn't have a mouth to smile with anymore after the Games though.

And finally, in the very back, I can see the bright flame of fire from the girl who almost ruined Panem; Katniss Everdeen. Her male partner was in this as well, but not as big a part. No, Katniss Everdeen is most definitely the smartest tribute in the history of Panem, though once she failed the others seemed to not recognize it.

She was the one girl who finally understood the weakness of the nation and targeted it, becoming a face to a revolution that should have never existed. She lived long enough to kill Snow, shoot the new President, and then ate some sort of instant death pill that the rebels referred to as nightlock.

The boy, Peeta, attempted to stop her, but to no avail. He was simply too late, and then he himself committed suicide. Just as the rebels had thought they had won, it seemed they suddenly had lost again. With no face or ego to the cause, they fell, and the Capitol gained control once more.

Funny how quickly sweet solutions can turn so sour.

"Revlon, it's time." Says Fodeen Verse, the man I've assigned to run these Games. It's not really run by a Gamemakers this year, simply a specialized team who are going to steal the tributes thoughts and fears. They are in charge of completing the arena along with this task, and so it's vital for the tributes to be chosen soon. This year I decided to stretch out the date of the card reading only a week before the Games. And soon, so soon, they will play out.

I nod, and stand, lifting my ancient purple robe off the ground. Seneca Crane wore this same robe when he ran Katniss Everdeen's Games, and every year I wear it as a cruel reminder to the districts; a warning that a rebellion is to never happen again.

Finally, I approach the microphone that is held above the city, staring down at my people, a merciless army who doesn't even realize they're being played.

I clear my throat and lift my head, addressing a crowd that immediately falls silent.

"Welcome, Panem, to the reading of this year's card!" I cheer to the nation, and the Capitol citizens roar in impatience. Everyone's dying to know what lies on the crisp white paper.

Before I know it, a little boy with pale green eyes approaches me proudly; proud to have such an honor as delivering the box.

I take it from his hands and open it, pulling out the first envelope that grazes my fingers. I hold it in front of me, and read the worn 475 on the front before closing my eyes and unveiling a card I've already read.

I review it, taunting the audience, and I can feel the tension among the nation.

How bad is it this year?


I open my mouth, and begin to read the card in my hands.

"And with this year's quell, in tribute to the Dark Days, where power was so essential, the tributes must learn in the ways of the Capitol's victory over the rebels. The twist to these Games is that instead of Gamemakers creating and controlling the arena, the competitors will build up these Games based on their fears and achievements, from the bloody start to the inevitable finish."

I hear the silence that rings out among the nation.

Based on their fears and achievements?


And for the tributes sake…I would plead to have an inactive imagination this year.

Fear really is only a state of mind after all.


Well I'm happy to be starting this, and I get it's a bit confusing now. But don't worry, it will be explained. XD If you'd like to submit PM me for a tribute form! Remember this is not first come first serve. Apply for anything. If I like yours I'll chose it and if I don't it will either be put under a different district or it won't be used. I want to try and use everyone's so don't worry, you'll probably get in. :P

Please review, and what did you think of the twist? ;o