It’s pre-dawn when the Tributes are roused from their beds and sent to their tubes. Those who’d been imprisoned for the past few weeks had their heads covered before transport to the staging area, and there’s an air of confusion surrounding just about everything that’s happening until the stylists and managers arrive on the scene and try to calm everyone down. The reunions may be happy, but they're sadly very temporary.

The first clue that something strange is happening comes from their clothing: figure skating costumes with bright colors and sequins and ice skates strapped to their feet. Some may even find it difficult to stand with the blades on their feet, but as they're placed into the arena, all becomes clear. The mall skating rink seems quiet and quaint, especially after weeks of uncertainty and stress. Too bad the peace and quiet can’t last.

20

19

18...

Above the ice rink (which houses all 100+ Tributes) there are floors with shops looking over them. Large, bright fluorescent lights dot the multi-storied ceiling and create a warm, nostalgic glow to the place. Benign music is piped in from various hidden speakers to compliment the intended mood of fun and commerce.

17

16

15…

The countdown continues and the Tributes, some of whom haven’t seen each other in weeks, stare at one another helplessly. That is, until one of them boldly decides to speak.

"We're expected to fight here today," Steve's voice suddenly cuts through the tension in the room. It commands attention without demanding it, a conviction of truth in his tone.

14

13

12...


"To turn on each other through fear and self preservation. And we could give them what they want. A bloodbath," here he pauses longer, lets the reality of his statements sink in. Let people realize what he's saying, that this is a choice.

"Or we can choose not to fight. To instead work together," an option so many seem not to even realize they have. "No one here has to die by our hands today," he knows his speaking won't be without consequence, but he does want to believe he'll be the only one to pay for this.

"This is a risk. One many of you are hesitant to trust, let alone take. But everything we do here is a risk to ourselves and those around us," nothing in the arena comes without putting your life on the line.

"I, for one, am willing to take this risk, to choose not to fight," Steve looks around the room, making eye contact with a few people as he does. He's not telling anyone what to do, this is for them to decides for themselves; their freedom of choice.

But he's got faith in the his fellow tributes. "And I've got a feeling I'm not alone.”

… 3

2

1…

After the countdown ends, there’s a moment of utter still and silence. Then...

BOOOOOOOOOOOM

The room seems to erupt with noise and concussive force. The explosions are so violent that the muzak is paused in its tracks and shakes some of the Tributes off of their pedestals, and after the ice fog and smoke clears, it becomes apparent that fifteen of the Tribute pedestals and exploded there on the ice rink. Fifteen corpses lie mangled on the bloody ice: Deanna Winchester, Danny Fenton, Fili, Kili, Kain Highwind, Perry Kelvin, Julian Bashir, Clint Barton, Karkat Vantas, Sirius Black, Rahm Kota, Cinderella, Bunnymund, Robin, Rock Lee, and Rokk Krin.

The center of the ice rink remains completely intact and stocked with a few dozen keys of varying shapes and sizes. This is the Cornucopia and the Gamemakers are compelling the Tributes to skate for it.

The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces “The Arena is now open.” The Games have begun.

The Tributes are woken up early for this Arena, and switched from whatever sleeping attire they're currently in to a set of pajamas, each designed for the individual in questions. Women wear onesies, and most of the men wear two-pieces, but other than that any similarities are at random - the outfits are in all sorts of colors and patterns.

The floor of the helicopter taking them to their Arena location, and of the underground entrance to the tubes that hoist them to the surface, will feel cold under their bare feet.

Rather than bringing them to sunlight, like the tubes have in the past, instead the Tributes are presented to a dark concrete ceiling in a badly-lit parking lot. Fluorescent lights do little to illuminate the cavernous space.

The countdown begins, announced as if from far away.

20

19

18…

The Cornucopia, a ghastly thing carved from stone and concrete, sits at the center of a pattern of white and yellow lines reminiscent of spots for parked cars. The painted lines create a sort of spoked wheel, providing lanes for the Tributes leading to the prizes at the center. Some of the more unfortunate Tributes will find the concrete architecture has placed pillars in their lanes.

8

7

6…

Six parked cars lie around the outskirts of the huge lot, barely visible in the dim lighting. Glowing exit signs on two opposite sides of the chamber announce where Tributes should go to escape the bloodbath. Elevator doors are perched beneath them.

3

2

1

The gong rings out, and the countdown's voice announces "the Arena is now open". The Games have begun.