Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.

- Shakespeare

Marcella Vain, Victor of the 52nd Hunger Games

POV

Six month before the 53rd Hunger Games

"Excuse me, but is that really your question?"

His words are still ringing through my head, their echo hollow as it fails to escape my ear drums. I deem myself successful just by asking if he meant what he said. He can't be serious. 'Marcella, how do you think I can make the Games even better this year?'

I watch the Head Gamemaker open his mouth as he prepares to answer and force myself to listen.

"Of course! You surely understand why I want to improve on my last years' work and as victor, you're my best ressource." He says it as if it's clear as day. Just the next logical step to take. His voice is acutally pleasant, full of warmth and respect, something I didn't expect from a man who tried to kill me a few month ago. In my confusion I attempt to focus on the simple things, as I was told to do when I feel like loosing the world around me.

The man in front of me seems simple enough, at least for someone from the Capitol. His black hair is cut short save a few braided strands on the left of his head, his curious eyes study mine while he waits. To my surprise he doesn't wear a tie or a bow, instead his pearl white shirt is buttoned up tight and the golden vest gives a splash of colour. I have never before spoken to Head Gamemaker Ignatius Ross, but since I entered his office he hasn't introduced himself. I guess when you're that famous you take it for granted that everyone knows who you are. I certainly haven't reached that point yet.

"Well, we can always start at the start, you know?" he offers, this time impatience resonating in his words.

"Yes, please do," I answer. "No, please don't," is what I wanted to answer. He takes my agreement with a thin-lipped smile, which looks strange, as if someone sew them together. I take a deep breath, banishing the image.

"At the cornucopia there were several obstacles, like the tripping stones and the giant thistle bushes. Did you like them? We already concluded that the thistles caused more problems to the tributes, but of course, those are mere statistics. When you ran for supplies, which one did you think about more?"

There I am, back in the arena when it all started. I remember my loud heartbeat drowning out every other sound, the nervous shuffling of the district nine girl next to me and even the drumming sound of the countdown. Excitement rushes through my body, just like it did back then, and momentarily makes me want to vomit. I snap my eyes closed, hand in front of my mouth. Ignatius Ross raises an eyebrow when I reopen them. Right, he expects an answer.

Thistles...the thought leaves a prickling sensation on my skin, though the memory is dull in my head. There was something about Obsidians blood, all over the place, his pain-filled screams, but I don't feel the desire to search for details. A sudden rush of anger gets to me. What is he even thinking? They were traps designed to kill me. Why would I like them?

"No, I didn't like them. And I thought a thousand different things, I can't remember if your 'obstacles' were very important. I guess not, though." I pause, that came off harsh. "The scratches stung for a little while," I offer, utterly unsure about how helpful this will be.

"Hm...they were popular with our audience. Why did you not like them? Could I have done something different to make you like them?"

"Would you rather I killed you with small spikes or big spikes?" He could as well have asked that. So this man really wants me to design traps with him and maybe even the whole arena. The very things that will scare the children the most, or at least, scared me the most. The other tributes were human beings, I could fight them, I could predict their actions, but the arena...it was a monster. For fifteen days I was trapped inside the womb of a killing machine and now, how do they expect me to help make it worse for the tributes to come? One of them will get out of there and has to live with those memories, just like me. No, I won't have a part in that.

I decided early on that I was willing to forgive the Capitol citizens' their insolenses because truly, they are blind to what they're doing. However, this man isn't a citizen, at least not in my mind. He is in charge of the killing – he has to be conscious to the effects of his creations. In his calm, attentive face I search for a spark of that knowledge, but find nothing. It's irritating to no ends.

My instincts scream for me to either punch him or run away and maybe in the past, I would have done it. Now I dig into the edges of the big wooden chair, I know I can't allow myself to slip up with any of the Capitol officials. Silence is not an option I can take either.

"Should we move on to another part of the arena first? If you have more ideas on something else..."

"Im thinking!" I interrupt, only to remind myself again that I need to be careful here. "Please, give me a few minutes." He does seem surprised, maybe a little annoyed, but not angry.

"Alright. Should I order some coffee? Wine? I see this is going to take a while, so we might as well get comfortable."

I merely shake my head. There is only one thing my every fiber wants to tell him, though I don't know how and if I do, what will happen. Comfortable is a state I can't imagine in this situation. Yet, Ignatius Ross seems to be the most trustworthy of the high ranked people, however ironic that may be.

"Head Gamemaker Ross? Can I tell you the truth and you won't hold it against me?" I ask.

"Of course!" he exclaims, smiling with excitement and an honesty in his voice I have to believe. Eyes shut and go for it, I decide, before my sanity tells me otherwise.

"I didn't really like any of your traps. Or your mutations. I think...the games are for tributes fighting against each other, not fighting against you, right? So...In my opinion the best arena would be a simple one. No traps, some good places for a fair fight. I think the tributes would appreciate that and the people would like that too. They've seen so many of your creations over the last years, traps, poison, mutations. This will be a a surprise for them."

As soon as my words fade out I feel relieved, letting out a deep breath. I make myself look into the head gamemakers' face and to my surprise, find him looking hurt. His upper lip twitches, he blinks a few times and then, the expression is gone. Shaking his head, he pushes himself out of the chair, smiling again.

"Thank you for your insights, Miss Vain."

Welcome, welcome to my SYOT!

I hope you enjoyed my little warm-up chapter. I have to admit, it really is nothing more than a warm-up in which I try to get to know this universe and get back a feeling for all the words. There won't be a political side story in this SYOT, as I just want to keep it simple for myself. Nonetheless I'd like to know what you think of this Prologue, so feel free to voice your opinion in a review. I'd love some constructive criticism.

If you would like to submit a tribute, you can find all the information and the form on my profile.