Writers' Games - Downworlders {CLOSED}

Task 4 - The Bloodbath

(This picture was drawn by the ridiculously talented AKA-ANONYMOUS , and it deserves to be shown for the world to see because it's exactly how I imagined the arena, use it for references! Screenshot, redraw it, do anything so that you can look back on it easily XD) :) more tips and information on the arena will be given in this chapter, so read carefully! Welcome to the bloodbath!

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"Dolly, has the new arena been completed yet?" Niamh asked to the young lady, who was sketching a hideous-looking rat mutt with razor sharp teeth and poison dripping from it's claws. There was no way the scientists in the lab would be able to actually make one before these Games started, but maybe next year...

"Yes miss, we just have to release the mutts and program the natural disasters, then we're all done!" Dolly said with a grin, turning around in her chair. Niamh's tense shoulders visibly relaxed, before she dropped into a desk chair beside Dolly. They shared a quick smile, before Niamh headed over to the gamemaker in charge of the disasters. The woman had bright pink skin, and her orange hair was in tight corkscrew curls, and extremely hairy hands, which showed that she was a werewolf. She was typing furiously on a thin keyboard, and Niamh watched as each section of the arena received more details, and a preview of each disaster happened to each of the six sections.

"Miss?" A male voice asked gently, tapping on Niamh's shoulder. She whipped her silver ponytail around, and stared at the tiny faerie in front of her. "What would you like the rest of us to do? Carrie over there, the werewolf programming the disasters, is almost done."

"For now, make a list of some ideas for twists we can throw in to the Games later on. What's your name?" Niamh said brusquely, wandering around to check that each gamemaker was doing their assigned job. Only about 3 of the Downworlders were working; the rest were watching her warily, waiting for her to make a move or give an order. Except for one warlock, who was completely focused on playing a game that involved dodging cannons and jumping into hidden lava pits, or something like that.

Niamh's eyes narrowed in anger, before she made her way to stand behind the warlock. His horns glowed gently, getting brighter every time the game got more intense. After a few seconds of watching, Niamh cleared her throat loudly. The warlock jumped about a foot in the air, almsot impaling Niamh's eye with his horn, before shutting down the game and turning guiltily around to face the angry faerie's wrath.

'HOW DARE YOU PLAY GAMES WHEN THE HUNGER GAMES WILL BE STARTING TOMORROW?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW BAD THIS MAKES ME LOOK, HOW BAD THIS MAKES EVERYONE IN HERE LOOK?! YOU'RE FIRED!" Niamh screamed, her petite body almost shaking because of her rage. The warlock cowered further and further into the 'security' of his robe, avoiding Niamh's piercing galre.

"I'm so sorry Miss Silver, it won't happen again." he mumbled, still not looking at her.

"Damn right it won't. PEACEKEEPERS!" Niamh screeched, then watched in sick amusement as four peacekeepers marched over and grabbed the warlock. "KIll him in the most painful way possible. No one plays games in this room, not while I'm here, and especially not when the Games are tomorrow. Make his death public, and very gruesome. Give the tributes a live film and the Capitol citizens some pre-Games entertainment. Got it?"

The peacekeepers nodded their heads in unison, before dragging the screaming and crying warlock out of the room. When Niamh turned around to face the rest of the room, she saw them all writing. After reading some of the documents closest to her, she realised that everyone was planning twists for the upcoming Games. Satisfied that her message had gotten through to them all, she flew across the room and into her office, making sure to slam the door loudly. 'Let the Games begin,' Niamh thought with a twisted grin.