The Hunger Games: Multi-Verse

Intro (Gale)

The tan hands were clasped tightly in front of the tense, strong man. He watched the dank television screen with a terse and focused expression, impatiently waiting for the scheduled programming. Impatience wasn't new to him. Impatience with his life, with his government, and with his world was something that Gale Hawthorne had experienced all of his life. 

The program came on, first flashing the Capitol's symbol, and then showing the sounds of the screaming, jeering, applauding audience. Gale watched as the white-haired president walked slowly forward to the podium from behind the stage, only causing the cheers to grow louder.

When President Snow came into view, Gale felt a writhing disgust within his gut; his deep seated hatred for his president cause tension to spread throughout his fingers. Gale yearned to grip his mighty hands around the president's sagging throat.

How the President had lived so long was a mystery. Every single year that passed, Snow's hair grew brighter white and his skin wrinkled further, but as every year passed by the President only seemed to strengthen and Gale's wishes for him to die off grew more and more hopeless.

But here Snow stood, alive and well -- he held himself as if he weren't a day past fifty --, preparing to announce the terms of the 100th Hunger Games. 

The fourth quarter quell was about to commence, and every set of eyes in Panem were trained on their treacherous leader. 

The Capitol's square had not changed since the years past. Gale only caught sight of the square whenever it was televised, like when the tributes had their chariot parade before the Games. 

The large black goblets spurring fire into the air were still elevated at many different levels. Smooth sandstone still lined the steps and wall behind the bronze podium at which the President stood, gazing over the audience. The red flags of the Capitol still hung ceremoniously in the background. 

Every year when the Hunger Games commenced Gale was reminded horribly of his loved one's death, many, many years ago -- this year was the 25th anniversary, in fact. Gale struggled to keep her name out of his head. But each year as the Hunger Games neared, even when he was in the forest, he couldn't escape the fact that the world seemed to be whispering Katniss. 

He still was suffering from the shock and disbelief the third Quarter Quell had brought onto Panem. When Katniss had gone into the arena the second time, Gale had been so sure that she was going to make it out; he'd had a gut feeling that Katniss was going to rebel against the Capitol and maybe bring change to this wretched nation. 

But she hadn't. Katniss had died, and any scent of the rebellion had died with her. And things had gone back to normal for the sad nation. Katniss was forgotten, along with many of the other victors that had died in that arena. 

Gale had thought that Katniss would be the start of change, but the Capitol had beaten her. Panem had sunken back into it's tortured, depraved stupor, and now suffered through year after year of the Games with no rebellion, and no hope; only constant, depressed fear. 

And there Gale was, twenty five years later, sitting in his living room with his small family and wife, listening to President Snow announce the start of yet another massacre of children. 

Gale could only wonder what horrible twist the fourth Quarter Quell could bring to the Games. 

"Citizens of Panem," Snow began in his serene, malicious tone, "I come before you today to announce the beginning of the 100th annual Hunger Games."