The frozen metal of the pedestal vibrates beneath the soles of your boots. High above, the Capitol searchlights cut through the morning haze, blinding your view. To your left, the tribute from District 2 watches you with a tight, calculating smile; to your right, someone hyperventilates in silence. Sixty meters ahead, the Cornucopia gleams like a golden trap. Knives, bows, water canisters, and medical kits lie scattered across the damp grass. The holographic timer floating in the sky ticks down its final five seconds.
In the control room, the Gamemakers hover over interactive displays, ready to manipulate the biome's temperature, drain water sources, or release genetically engineered mutts the moment the Capitol audience grows bored. The cannon will echo across the hills for every fallen competitor, and the faces projected onto the night sky will remind Panem that honor is a luxury—and survival is the only law.
