The Fourth Annual Writer Games: Canon

Task Two - The Games

"The arena shall encompass a plot of unoccupied land which does not encroach within two hundred fifty miles from the nearest habitation. [...] Each shall be enclosed upon by a forcefield. [...] Beneath the arena lies the tunnels which houses the Launch Area and the Underground Technologists. So shall a team be assembled of second Capitol rank who shall be tasked with receiving orders within the tunnels, ensuring the arena works the way the Capitol Control Centre wishes. [...] The Tributes shall be sent in a hovercraft and deposited below ground, where they shall be escorted to their Launch Room by their mentor—or, should there be no two mentor available per District—their stylist. They shall be adorned with identical attire as the other tributes with the exception allowing a token not of weaponly or dangerous stance to accompany them. [...] Then, once risen, the gong shall sound after a time of sixty seconds, at which time the Game begins." Book of Panem. XX.I.I – XXIII.IV.V

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"They're an interesting batch, I'll give them that."

"Well, the amount of tributes with relations to number 49 is a bit astonishing."

"Yes, well, something does seem a bit off with Mr. Aiken, don't you think?"

"None of this will matter in due time. We've got it all organized, all the tributes are vetted."

"But is it enough?"

"Listen, I don't know how many times I have to let you all know that my work in psychology is just as sound if not more than the rest of you. I've told you both it's enough."

"I'm not debating your work, Julius, but I've made mention that I simply see some tributes are a bit more...how should I put it...stand-offish? More reactive? As I'm sure I don't need to let you know, I've been watching these people since before you were born..."

Orvan looks to his two colleagues and lets out an exasperated sigh. "My question was not meant to send you two into a squabble. We've worked hard. Our work will pay off. We know more than we ever have before. Give each other some credit and realize these Games are only the beginning of the new era. Yes, we have a lot to do, and a lot to be weary of, but we know how to fix these things now. So enough with the squabbling and let's get back to work."

They are seated overlooking the workers, the third tier of Gamemakers, the want-to-be's or the soon-to-be's working and typing and colouring and mixing and matching away. Though the tribute plates have been aligned for weeks, with training scores out the Gamemakers can indulge for a moment, and so they turn away from those below them to stare at the holoscreens projecting 3-D replicas of each tribute on their soon-to-be pedestal. Above each caricature is their District number and name.

"I don't know, sometimes I wish we could change these things. I just want the action to start between some tributes, but they're so far away from each other," says Julius, "though I know that we have it as we do for a reason."

"We can't favor fights, indeed. Unfortunately how it is set is how it will remain. Let's just hope we get some runners this year, and that no one blows themself up. A point we've neglected to discuss from last year is those first few critical seconds. Anyone should've noticed last year that when Haymitch was the only one not distracted, that he was the threat. Yet I recall hearing no one placed him on the watch list until the fourth hour, when it was too late to make a move."

"Well you've worked out the arena so let's hope your preemptiveness will pay off."

An intern enters the room, clipboard in hand. "Excuse me, but the tributes are just about to be launched."

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Thank you all for last task. I'm so glad I have such amazing writers, and I'm already upset at the prospect of any one of you leaving. Now, though, it's time to get into the thick of it. Below is the ARENA INFORMATION, as well as the task for you to complete. Show me what you're made of, and bring me back to canon.