Chapter 1

~ Prologue ~

Eight o' clock in the evening; rain poured relentlessly over the city. Gleaming black limousines drove through the President's Mansion, each vehicle hosting a Capitol celebrity or two. Men clad in black held umbrellas over their heads. As soon as a limousine would halt by the grand staircase, one of the suited men would rush to assist the guests, most of them dressed in vibrant colors with matching delicate headpieces and exotic makeup designs.

One of the vehicles had belonged to the famous duo, and the Capitol's power couple: Franco Creswell, the longstanding Head Gamemaker for the Annual Hunger Games, and his fiancé, Erizalda Morrison, the Victor of the Fifty-second Hunger Games who hailed from District Eight.

Another limousine hosted politicians Vinny Treshold, ex-Head Gamemaker and the President's right-hand man, and newly appointed Capitol official, Giovanna Coughlin. Behind the pair of representatives, a trio of ageing Victors arrived: Mason Higgins, Victor of the Eighth from District Two, Lexa Hoffman, Victor of the Third from District One, and their good friend from District Four, Mags Avion, Victor of the Ninth.

The last limousine was the most lavish of all. Its silver smooth exterior gleamed to perfection. Its plate read "PRSDNT" in solid gold lettering. All of the suited men in black bustled to make a line of umbrellas from the vehicle's door to the main entrance of the mansion.

Inside the entrance hall, the celebrities gushed elatedly as soon as they caught news of the President's arrival. The ladies sashayed around in their glittering floor-length gowns, and the men marched on their luxurious leather shoes. The guests smoothed their dresses and straightened their ties for the President's entrance.

The buffet tables set around the hall, although already presented with food, were still untouched. A pair of young eighteen year-old men in the corner just beside the last buffet table argued in hushed voices. The one who seemed to be winning the quarrel was taller than the other with tanned skin, curly jet-black hair and dark eyes glinting with mischief. His suit was dark emerald with a matching bowtie. He held an empty wine glass in one hand, and the other was clutching his friend's shoulder.

The other had lighter, shorter and straighter hair. His eyes were big, green and uncertain. He had a strong jaw, fair skin and a slim body. His pinstriped suit was a tad big for him, and beneath his left cuff, he wore an old battered watch.

As the argument drew on, their voices were slowly growing louder.

"Come on, Q, they won't notice a thing!" the taller of the two insisted. "You said just a minute ago that you were hungry!"

"The President's not here yet, Parker," Q shot back. "Those guys in the suits will run me over if they catch me!"

Parker rolled his eyes. "Well if you're pertaining to the entire male population in this mansion, then I suggest you get ready to be trampled on."

"What do you– Wha– Hey! Parker! Stop!"

The young male had already disappeared behind one of the buffet tables, and Q excruciatingly watched as a hand shot up and snatched a rib from the serving plate. Attempting to act nonchalant, Q turned away from the table, struggling to keep his face from twisting into sheer anxiety.

"Why's your face twitching?"

Q glowered at his friend, who had returned with a delicious, saucy rib and a napkin tucked around his neck.

"You're absolutely insane!" Q whispered frantically. "I told you–"

"Oh, come on, Q, you're no fun," Parker laughed offhandedly, taking a monstrous bite of his rib and leaving smudges of sauce around his mouth.

The sudden applauding and cheering from the rest of the guests cut off Q's retort. Parker's rib slipped through his fingers after flinching in shock from the sudden noise. The string of swears that followed was drowned out by everybody's praise just as the President strode in the entrance hall with a middle-aged redheaded woman in a beautiful silver gown hanging by his arm.

Q yelped and kicked the rib away under an empty table just as the President marched pass their spot by the corner. Once he and the woman reached the bottom of his grand staircase, they spun around to face their guests.

President Friselbee swept his gaze over the entire room before speaking in a booming and powerful tone.

"Welcome!" he began. "I give my thanks to everybody here who accepted their invitation to our annual gathering before the season of the Hunger Games begins. I truly am grateful for your presence here. We are bound to see some new faces for this year's gathering, but I must personally introduce to you all, my younger sister, Eva Friselbee."

Just as the guests began to applaud, Eva spoke in a loud but shaky tone, so different from her brother's way of speech.

"Eva Hawkins, actually," she corrected. "No longer Friselbee. It's Hawkins."

The President's eyes flashed, but he did not comment. There were a few murmurs of gossip from the crowd, but most had resumed the applause, drowning out the insensitive few who were startled by the mention of her last name.

"Let the celebration begin!"

The chatter had resumed and live music began to play from a platform by the corner. A few couples instantaneously snagged places on the dance floor, and the buffet table was finally open to the guests, butlers manning their stations.

"Ah, finally!" Q said in delight, approaching the nearest serving plate, which held the pan-fried giant prawns.

"You're awfully slow," Parker, who just returned from loading his plate with more ribs, commented.

Q ignored him and let the butler fill his plate with the prawns.

"What do you think of that Hawkins woman?" Parker asked as soon as Q was back at his side with his own plate of food.

"Name's really familiar," Q said in thought, trying to remember where he had heard that name from in the past. He'd always had a very good memory that he was certainly proud of. Having difficulty when and where he had heard that name before was definitely a disappointment.

"You'd remember it if it were important, wouldn't you?" Parker shrugged, dropping the bone of the rib he just finished and picking up another one.

"That's the thing. I think it is important." Q's plate of prawns lay untouched as he scrunched his brows together, thinking.

Parker's gaze quickly darted to Q's overflowing and uneaten plate of food before speaking again.

"You probably just can't get it because you haven't eaten a single thing."

Q looked up at him in surprise. "That is quite possibly the most intelligent statement you've said today, Parker. You're improving."

With a grimace, Parker wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, despite the napkin tucked into his collar, and proceeded to stick it on Q's cheek. The shorter one cried, slapping Parker's hand away. Sniggering, Parker continued to harass Q with his dirty hand and Q found it difficult to avoid his friend's advances while balancing a plate of prawns.

"And here are our latest Victors, President–"

Parker and Q instantly wrenched themselves free from each other at the sound of Franco Creswell's voice. Looking disheveled and sticky from rib sauce, they faced the Head Gamemaker and the President of Panem with matching looks of discomfort.

"How charming," President Friselbee commented, eyes roaming over them from top to bottom. His gaze then settled on Q who looked ready to wet his trousers. "Quentin Doge, am I correct?"

"Y–Yeah," Q stuttered. "I–I mean yeah, sir. Wait, I–I meant yes, sir."

Friselbee's eyes narrowed slightly as they pierced into Quentin's green ones. Suddenly a bulb lit at the top of his head. The answer was just at the tip of his tongue, and he let it slip at the last second.

"Desiree Hawkins," he mumbled out, feeling accomplished and proud that he managed to extract the name from his disorganized mind.

"What was that?" Friselbee suddenly snapped, eyes flashing with anger.

"N–Nothing, sir," Q hastily said.

"It better have been nothing, Doge," Friselbee threateningly said. Finally, his eyes left Q to address Parker, who gulped at the sudden attention. "Good day, Dunn. Perhaps you've found something worth doing in your life that doesn't include wrecking havoc in my city and taking advantage of your status as Victor?"

Parker's lips curled, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. He stared back into the President's eyes with equal amount of intensity before Friselbee finally sped away from the two youngest Victors. Franco Creswell awkwardly stood by them for a few more seconds before eventually deciding to catch up to the President.

"What was that?" Parker immediately asked as soon as they had gone. He looked more serious than he had ever been, the mischievous glint in his eye gone and his playful manner forgotten.

Quentin grabbed his arm and steered them both away from the crowd.

"Come on. I've got a story to tell you."

Author's Note:

Why, hello there! To old readers, hi again I suppose. To the new ones, I better start over.

My name's Jess. I make SYOTs. I can either be a pretty fast updater or an incredibly slow one. There is no in between.

So yes, let's talk submissions then, shall we? Well everything you need to know is on my profile so just head on there if you're interested in submitting. Deadline of submissions is there too so get started! There's no rush really, you've literally still got two weeks. There also will be NO RESERVATIONS because this is open submissions. So anybody can keep submitting until the deadline.

It also depends on the number of tributes I'll be receiving by the deadline, but there definitely may be rejections. I suppose just keep that in mind... Anyway I really hope you decide on submitting!

...and for the love of God PM me your submissions! None on reviews! That should really go without saying but eh, I had to mention it.

Next chapter will be Prologue Part 2 with the final list of tributes and the blog link. So stay tuned! Good luck with submissions. :D

~jess

PS- This is another sequel for my last story (that isn't even in the Games yet but whatever, no spoilers here!), but it isn't necessary to read the first two at all. Everything will be revealed here in time anyway.