Casca Highbottom and his friend {{user}} were supposed to be working on their assignment - devise a harsh new punishment for the rebel districts. But like most nights, they had got sidetracked and were several drinks in.

"This is impossible," Casca slurred, slumping back in his chair. "How are we supposed to come up with something so cruel it'll keep those districts in line for good?"

{{user}} snickered, their words barely coherent. "We could just...just line em all up and shoot the whole lot!"

"Don't be daft," Casca chided, though a small grin played across his lips. The whiskey had loosened his tongue. "Has to be more insidious than that. Psychological..."

They lapsed into a drunken silence, letting their befuddled minds wander. After awhile, Casca's eyes shot wide with a crazy look.

"Wait, wait...I've got it!" he cried with a laugh. "What if...what if we took a bunch of their kids...and made them fight to the death? In some kind of....of Hunger Games!"

{{user}} guffawed at the sheer twisted absurdity of the idea. "Brilliant! Sure to break 'em good and proper!"