A/N: Welcome! I'll keep this short and sweet, but this is an SYOT. If you are interested, please read to the bottom and find the form on my profile.

Happy reading :)

Dead of Winter

Chapter One

Bemus Linell, Head Gamemaker.

Some people would call Cyril Aucostine positively insane for his ideas.

Bemus was one of them, to an extent. His old friend was a creative individual with many years of knowledge and prowess under his belt in the field of science. But as of late...it seemed he was unravelling at a rather alarming rate. Bemus put it down to the toll of being a Gamemaker for the past twenty-four years, watching the bloodbath of dead children.

Deep down, Bemus knew he was to blame: he did, after all, land Cyril the job as Head Scientist many, many years ago. And with the Quarter Quell coming up this year – a fanciful idea created by himself – he knew that Cyril was under an enormous amount of pressure to deliver even more than normal.

What Bemus didn't know, however, was how prepared Cyril was.

He walked down the hall briskly, carrying his suitcase. It was after dark and many of his people had returned home to their loving families. He knew Cyril hadn't – he was burning the midnight oil in his lab.

He reached the door and knocked twice, gaining no response.

"Cyril?" He called out, "Cyril, you need to go home," He banged again, hearing a faint shuffle on the other side. "Let me in at least."

The door swung open erratically. In the darkness of his lab, Cyril's mad eyes shone. "Bemus!" He cheered.

"Cyril...you look terrible."

"I look fantastic, I feel fantastic!" Cyril grinned, "Come in, come in! I was hoping to show you this sooner rather than later!"

Cyril stepped back into the darkness of the lab. Tentatively, Bemus followed, looking around at the eerie glow of the monitors, casting blue shadows across the room. Cyril was at his desk, hands scrambling for something.

"This can wait until morning, surely?"

"No, it can't! Not now that you're here!" Cyril exclaimed, finally turning on his desk lamp. The warm glow of the room did nothing to make Bemus feel any better about the situation. The room was strewn with paperwork, everything hastily scribbled and thrown aside. There was no sense of order – no sense of Cyril.

"Cyril..." Bemus murmured, staring intently at his friend, "Cyril, I don't think we should do this now..."

Cyril's hand snapped out, grabbing onto Bemus, "Oh, but we must!"

He dragged Bemus across the room, right to the furthest side where a large, metal door stood. Bemus shifted uncomfortably. Cyril peered over his glasses as he bent down for the retina scan. The door slid open.

"Where are we heading?" Bemus queried.

"Downstairs!"

"But that's the morgue."

"Precisely!"

Cyril towed him down the stairs, giggling so softly under his breath that Bemus barely noticed it at first. He was too focused on the unhinged look of Cyril. Had he not noticed it before? Did he pay no attention to his friend's slow unravelling?

At the very bottom stood another door that Cyril opened once more. Down in the basement of the lab, it was much cooler, and Bemus instinctively pulled his suit jacket tighter around him – from the cold or the knowledge that he would see dead bodies in person for the first time, he didn't know.

It was much brighter than Bemus expected – but that was because he wasn't in the morgue. It was another room, with a single computer. Behind a wall of glass stood the mortuary with its many containers.

"Why the morgue?" Bemus asked, dread creeping up his spine.

"It'll make sense when you see them!"

"Them?"

"Yes, them! Cyril spun around to face him. Violet bags under his eyes and sunken cheeks just proved Bemus' worst thoughts: Cyril was not okay any more. "When you see them, you will lose your mind! It's all for you...for the Quell!"

Bemus was unsettled, "I don't see-"

He was cut off by Cyril's hand racing over the computer, "This is my idea, my creation."

A single light turned on in the mortuary. Bemus gritted his jaw, watching as a draw opened. He couldn't see more than the feet and a single toe tag – which he was grateful for.

"They're dead..." Bemus stated the obvious, "I don't-"

"I couldn't let them go," Cyril muttered, staring darkly at the glass window, "I couldn't just pick twenty-four, either...and they kept coming! So many interesting children, so many of my greatest feats! Oh, I did good with these ones. Do you remember last year?"

Bemus nodded, "Yes, I do."

"I saved at least three of that one alone! Oh, it was so good!"

"Cyril...they're dead."

"Not necessarily! I mean, they are, but they're also not. They don't have to be," Cyril pressed a few more buttons, and a monitor appeared overhead. Wires connected up automatically to the body. Through a large tube, Bemus watched as a dark, black liquid slid straight down, disappearing under the white blanket of the body, "I can bring them back..."

Realisation dawned on Bemus. A lump formed in his throat as the body's toes began to twitch.

"Do you see that?" Cyril screamed. Bemus felt his heart fall out of his chest. "He's back."

"This..." Bemus trailed off in disbelief, unable to remove his eyes from the twitching toes on the morgue slab.

"I picked the best. I mean, we can pick the best. The best for our people...for my Quell," Cyril grinned, turning to a bone white Bemus, "Isn't it perfect? Tell me you think so. Tell me you believe in me, Bemus, my old friend."

He couldn't find the words to describe his feelings: a rush of fear, disgust, and pride confused his judgement. He wanted to hate it. He so badly wanted to refuse Cyril's plan. How would the districts approve? To see their dead children alive, to die once more? How would a Victor be chosen? What would they receive?

"I'll have to talk to the President about this."

"Bemus," Cyril's voice was soft now as he touched Bemus' hand on the control panel, "You like it, don't you? I did this for you. For us and our legacy."

Bemus forced a smile, "Of course I do, old friend."

Some people would call Cyril Aucostine positively insane for his ideas – but as mad as he was, he was also a genius.

A dangerous combination to own.

I will be creating a blog for this story - watch this space!

All deaths will be based on a number of factors - I hope you understand and continue to stick around as the numbers dwindle.

A/N: Just so we're clarified, all the information you need to know is on my profile, along with the form. This is the 25th Hunger Games, completely non-canon. I will suspend realism to a degree in favour of a better, more impactful story.

Reviews are appreciated and welcome, as is feedback in general. Feel free to submit more than one tribute, also!

Thank you for reading!