A/N: What better way to celebrate a new keyboard than to start a new story?

Terkast Nilgwis sat in his dark office, staring at the brightly blinking buttons while stroking his dark purple beard. The Hunger Games were soon, and it was the 725th since the first rebellion. Of course, the second never happened since it was quelled with the girl from Twelve and her 'lover.'

President Welch was in charge, and tomorrow he would go on with the box to decide what would happen in the Quarter Quell. Terkast looked at the thousands of crumpled slips of paper on his desk, and sighed deeply. There was nothing truly magnificent in here, and yet one of them would be chosen tomorrow.

Should he include the one that President Welch would go and choose the tributes? Or the one that states that the tributes for each district should be in a relationship? Neither sounded good to the Capitolite, and he picked up the only one that made sense to him. Of course, it was harsh enough that the tributes couldn't know until the start of the Games. Let that sit well with the parents.

Terkast looked at the large monitor before his face, watching hovercrafts and Avoxes make the arena. They looked like ants rushing about, digging the river and placing sand and planting trees in exact places.

Everything was going well, he decided. His pure white fingers tapped daintily on the telephone while Terkast watched the workers build. He swiftly picked the small telephone up, and dialed a speed dial number.

"Hello?" An old, gruff voice sounded on the other end, making Terkast scowl. The man was the most powerful person in all of Panem, and yet he refused to get a voice replacement? To think about it, the man had done nothing to his body, unlike the rest of his country.

"I have a few ideas, President," Terkast managed into the phone, over his recent bout of disgust. He made sure to make his voice sound as smooth and melodic as possible.

"Hm? Alright then. Jus' send the box over, and I'll pick it tomorrow. You know they're gon' be thrown away after tomorrow, though, right?" President Welsh muttered, and Terkast could almost see him impatiently scratching his arm.

Terkast nodded, before realizing the President couldn't see him. "I know sir. It's so that no other Head Gamemakers can steal my ideas later, sir." President Welch gave his approval, and quickly hung up the phone.

With the call out of the way, the Head Gamemaker was left all alone with his thoughts again. There was truly only one that he liked out of the entire pile of about… 50.

Terkast took the gilded box from the table next to him, and started dutifully placing the piles of papers in it. Halfway there, he stopped. This was his last year as a Head Gamemaker. He promised himself that after 43 years as a Gamemaker, he would be done. That was, in 43 years, he would be done with the 725th Games, and be happy with their success.

Terkast wished to see his only good idea be the one that was used in the Games. A small smile played on his lips as he took up his pencil and began to write furiously. The President would need the box in a few short hours, and he had a lot of work to do.

Within the next thirty minutes, around 60 slips of paper were in the box. Terkast smiled, and called an Avox for it. The small, dainty girl with sad grey eyes and scraggly brown hair took the box tiredly, and shuffled up the steps.

Once the door closed, Terkast let his body shake in laughter. They would never find out what he had just done, since nobody looked at any of the submissions. The only one that would view any eyes other than his own would be his idea. And his idea was on every single one of those slips of paper!

He spun around in his wheelie-chair, laughing harder and harder. Yes, these games would be the best ever, for him and the Capitol's of course. "May the odds be ever in your favor!" Terkast yelled in a sing-songy voice, laughing manically.