User blog:The Targaryen of District 4/The 250th Hunger Games: Return

The 250th Hunger Games: Return (10th Quarter Quell) Prequel of The 500th Hunger Games: Ascension.

Fanfiction colour motif: None

(For those who need it) Disclaimer: Strong language, violent content (since it is a Hunger Games fanfic), mentions/potential appearances of sensitive topics

If you're wondering who I am, I'm basically someone who has drifted in and out of activity over the years. I was part of the fandom, but nowadays I'm somewhat semi-retired. The one thing that's been bothering me is that I've never been able to dedicate myself to any of my projects enough to complete them.

Well now I have the motivation to do so. I'm currently writing a fanfiction series set in my own HG fanon universe. But I'm also going to write a Games alongside it, these Games counting as part of my fanon universe. This is so that I can add more lore to my universe quicker, since the fanfiction I'm writing alongside this is going to be one of the largest stories within my series and will take a behemoth amount of time to write fully. It's a risky move for me to make, considering my history of incomplete projects, but I have the motivation now to finish something before I retire completely.

Description (Please read)
Set in an AU where Katniss and Peeta died before they could become victors, therefore ensuring a continuation of the Hunger Games. Ever since the 74th Games, there has been several changes politically, economically and socially. Lands previously thought to be forever lost have been rediscovered and annexed into Panem.

Just 15 years after the discoveries of District 0 (located in the region formerly known as Alaska) and District 14 (located in the region formerly known as Hawaii), a brutal civil war broke out between two siblings in the Presidential family. This halted any Games activity for 5 years. One of these siblings sympathised with rebel ideologies, which gained him the support of the traditionally rebel districts (including the previously thought to be destroyed District 13, whose existence was eventually learned of by The Capitol), whilst the other was a conservative who had the support of The Capitol and the career districts.

The conservative sibling won the war and became the new President, whilst the rebel sympathising sibling was executed. The new President officially brought the Games back and as punishment for their "treason", he forced District 13 to compete in the Hunger Games (the other rebel districts already being competitors of the Games). As it was also close to the 10th Quarter Quell, the President declared that The Capitol would send in tributes of their own.

District 0 and District 14 would not be forced to compete in the Games yet.

Rules

 * 1) The Capitol and District 13 will compete in this. Therefore, there are 28 competing tributes.
 * 2) Three tributes per user.
 * 3) Reservations will last for three days. Failure to submit a tribute to fill these reservations will result in the reserved spots being opened up. However, if you give me a legitimate reason as to why your reservations may not be due on time, I will extend it.
 * 4) I don't expect all of the spots to be filled, since I do use NPCs in my fanfictions. However, if you have a character that you want to replace an unnamed NPC with, feel free to submit them. Named NPCs cannot be replaced, unless I feel that your submission could fit into the story better than the named NPC. Some NPCs will have minimal impact on the storyline, whilst others will have a bigger impact.
 * 5) Submissions of joke tributes will be rejected. This fanfiction is an official part of my fanon universe and it will be taken seriously.
 * 6) If you have tributes from the RP Wiki and want to submit them, you are allowed to do so.
 * 7) Sending in advice may help your tributes' chances of survival.
 * 8) Hostility towards myself or other users at any stage of these Games will result in your tributes either being rejected or killed off.
 * 9) If you are going to be inactive, please let me know.

Tribute Form
This form is the minimal amount of information I require from submissions.
 * Name (Tributes with names like "Asdfghjkl" for example will not be accepted due to Rule #5)
 * District (Any of the districts that are competing/The Capitol)
 * Gender (Male/Female/Transgender) (If you are going to submit a non-binary tribute, please submit them into the spot of their biological gender and specify how I should refer to them in the story.)
 * Age (12-18)
 * Appearance (Description, lunaii, Rinmaru anime avatar or a picture is fine by me)
 * Personality (Please try to give a summary of this. You can bullet point them. Minimum amount of traits is 4.)
 * Backstory (Again, try to summarise this. I'll allow it bullet pointed)
 * Height (Any height that is realistic)
 * Weapon(s) (3 maximum)
 * Strengths: (Preferably 3)
 * Weaknesses: (Preferably 3)
 * Alliance: (Careers/Anti-Careers/Confirmed alliance/Loner) (If you want to request an alliance, specify this. If you are requesting an alliance with an NPC, I'll automatically confirm it. If you're requesting an alliance with a tribute made by another user, you must have the other user's confirmation before the alliance is made official. All alliances will be finalised before the beginning of the Interviews.)

Tribute Gallery
Note: Some images may be poorer in quality than others.

Alliances

 * Careers: Ivy (CF), Kris (1M), 1F, Lance (2M), Nova (2F), 4M, Coral (4F), Isaac (8M)
 * Anti-Careers: 5M, Felix (7M), Mari (7F), Jordan (11M), Mabel (11F), Ashara (12F)
 * Loners: Diarmuid (CM), Braxton (3M), Talia (5F), 6F, 9F, 10F, 12M
 * Alliance #1: Harry (6M), Jack (10M)
 * Alliance #2: Zirco (13M), Alara (13F)
 * Alliance #3: Marcella (3F), Gantt (9M)
 * Requesting an alliance: 
 * Uncertain: Masie (8F)

Other characters
You can find images for the rest at my Wiki.

Twist(s)
The Capitol will submit tributes of their own for the first time. At the same time, as punishment for its role in the rebellion, District 13 will also submit tributes into the Hunger Games.

Prologue -- Unknown Capitol Party Guest
"Let us celebrate in memory of those who died fighting to protect the honour of The Capitol and the innocent civilians that had their lives taken so suddenly by traitors. From the Dark Days to now, The Capitol has stood the test of time and will continue to do so. As we emerge from the five years of bloodshed victorious, the traitors will be forgotten to time. To The Capitol!"

"To The Capitol!"

I tilted my glass and took a sip of the citrus champagne. We toasted not just to our survival, but to the fact that we would simply rise from the destruction and rebuild. Of course there are families in The Capitol that would never see their loved ones again, but at least they have the comfort of knowing that they died heroes.

After the toast, I was entangled into a series of conversations, the first of which was with the matriarch of the Fragor family, a blonde-haired, green-eyed buxom woman in her 40s. Her clothing, compared to some of the clothing I had seen at this party, was rather plain.

"Mrs Fragor! How are you?"

"I'm well. You?" She replied in a sullen tone. Her words were ironic. Despite the aggressive aura that she radiated, I attempted to maintain pleasantries.

"I am in a positive mood. How is your family?"

"Diarmuid's latest experiment with explosives damaged parts of the house, Anton is slacking off in his studies and my husband is an annoying dimwit. The only one that doesn't annoy me is the cat."

I carried on listening to Mrs Fragor. She started to tire me out physically and mentally. I was eventually looking for a way to exit the conversation but a phone call provided it for me.

"I have to leave. Anton and Diarmuid have gotten into an argument. It was pleasant talking with you."

"You too."

My next conversation was with someone who could be described as the polar opposite of the gloomy Mrs Fragor. Vila Antos of District 4 was the final Hunger Games victor before the beginning of the civil war. It seemed like just yesterday that I watched her 14 year old self poison the meals of her alliance members. Now she was an eccentric fashion designer with hair as blue as the sea and pink contact lenses that reminded me of cotton candy.

"HI!"

Vila waved at me as soon as she spotted me. Because of how loud her voice was, she caught the attention of several of the party-goers and interviewers. I observed as she managed to respond to all of those wanting to interview her.

"I finally got to you in the end! How are you?!" She asked me in an enthusiastic tone.

"I'm relaxed. Just enjoying the party. How about you Vila? Are you getting a lot of sales?"

"Believe it or not, I've just finalised my designs for my next clothes line. I just love rainbow patterns recently. I'm actually wearing a prototype of one of the upcoming products!"

Vila twirled in her dress. It was a long-sleeved, high-collared, knee-length dress. The outer layer and the cuffs on her sleeves were made out of transparent PVC plastic. The inner layer, which was the dress itself, was covered in rainbow-coloured sequins.

"What do you think of it?"

If I were to be honest with her, the dress looked uncomfortable. But if I told her this I would run the risk of making her sad and I didn't want to do that because she was giving me an adorable smile.

"I think it's very creative and imaginative. It accurately represents your personality."

Vila's smile turned into a grin. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that this was the same girl 6 years ago who had taken out an entire group of people with nothing but a vial of poison in her possession. It's easy to forget that she was a Victor and she had killed people.

"Thank you!"

I wished Vila well and told her that I hoped her business ventures continue to be successful. I continued to talk to other people, including politicians, celebrities and even Rayn Chisic of District 2, the Victor of the 239th Hunger Games. The series of conversations would come to an end when the President had returned, to make a big announcement.

"I'll get straight to the point. The Hunger Games will officially return! And as the 10th Quarter Quell is approaching, I can tell you that the Quarter Quell twist will be the Capitol's own submission of tributes! As of the traitors, well they'll be forced to compete!"

Everyone cheered. I think it's safe to assume that the President was making an excellent start on being loved by the people of the Capitol and the districts that supported both the Capitol and the Hunger Games.

A Dream Come True -- Ivy Sinclair, Capitol Female
As I looked into the mirror, I smiled.

I finally had a chance to shine.

Thanks to the war, entertainment in the Capitol was limited. Bookmakers and the old arenas-turned-museums were closed, because, respectively, there were no Games for five years and visitors getting caught in the middle of gunfire apparently did not look good on those in charge of the commemorative museums.

Whilst the Peacekeepers and volunteers from non-rebellious districts fought on behalf of the Capitol, the sheltered socialites had to find other forms of entertainment, to try and fill the void left behind by the absence of the Games. Some resorted to alcohol and drugs, some attended whatever parties were being hosted, even if they weren't invited, others even pursued a career in music and film, producing material that wouldn't come until the end of the war.

In the Sinclair household, our entertainment was watching all of the Hunger Games we could get our hands on. This was only possible because Father had an associate who worked in the archives. He tried to get the original footage, but the associate outright refused. Even when faced with a tempting amount of money, he still refused because he didn't want to lose his job. Father forced him to hand over copies, which he eventually received.

I had been protected by the Capitol's immunity from the Games. After all, we were the hosts. There was no need or desire for Capitol citizens to compete in something that they had created. The power of being the puppetmasters puppeteering the districts was too exhilarating.

Well, some of us Capitol citizens.

Fantasising about participating in the Games was a favourite childhood pastime of mine. Volunteering, looking out towards the crowd from a beautiful golden chariot, joining the Careers after displaying my prowess with either a machete or throwing knives; the weapons that I had been drawn towards after watching so many editions of the Games, wearing to my interview an enviable gown that my 'peers' would desperately try to replicate and then proving my superiority by becoming the Victor. Although it was enjoyable to think about life as a tribute, the reality was that it was a dream that I would never accomplish...

''...until now. I could finally put my training to use.''

My reaping outfit had been prepared and brought to my room by the servants.

After the big reveal the Capitol would finally get a chance to participate in the Games as part of the Quarter Quell twist, I immediately sat at the drawing board. Once my design for my reaping dress was complete, my parents hired the most elite seamsters to make it. My vision for the design had existed since the day I first watched the 230th Hunger Games.

230ADD was deemed the Capitol's annus mirabilis . New districts had been discovered and annexed into Panem and the 230th Games were memorable. The tributes were admittedly interesting, but what really made it memorable was the arena.

The arena was filled with plants.

Tributes were refused any food sponsors, so they had to forage instead. The District 11 tributes were triumphant in this department, knowing which plants were poisonous and avoiding the tricks of the Gamemakers, whilst the less knowledgeable faced painful deaths. The image of the Careers clutching their throats and gasping for breath, before their faces turned purple and their blood was spilling out of their eyes and their mouth is so vivid in my mind that I will never be able to forget it.

I don't want to forget it.

When I said that I admittedly found the tributes interesting, I was being dishonest. I only meant that one of the tributes was interesting to me; the District 11 female.

She was...outstanding. She had a tactic similar to that of Johanna Mason's back in 71ADD. Pretending to be a sweet, innocent girl who couldn't harm anything if she tried during the buildup to the Games, she later revealed her true colours once the bloodbath thinned the herd. She was cunning, smart, an excellent liar and most importantly, a master manipulator.

The moment that ensured her place as my inspiration was the finale. The postmortem results of the Career members had just been revealed by the commentators; the poison had taken such a nasty toll on them that it had turned their blood mustard yellow and their eyes nuclear green.

But I didn't care about that or them. The final two tributes were the District 11 tributes, who were part of the same alliance until the female had manipulated everyone but her district partner into killing each other, using intel and secrets that she had gathered as blackmail. Her district partner was still alive because she had manipulated him into falling in love with her.

Because he managed to break out of his trance, she was saving him for last.

The finale took place at nighttime, the tributes basked in the extremely red light provided by the artificial blood moon. There was plenty of action; both physical and mental. Whilst the male, angry at being so oblivious to what had been happening, attempted to lunge at his district partner, the female was playing psychological games with him and keeping him at a distance with her throwing knives.

The true extent of her genius was revealed. Her lies were so convincing that she had acted as if she didn't know her district partner, when the truth was that they had been childhood acquaintances. In the studio, the commentators could not stop expressing their utter shock. They couldn't believe that these tributes were from District 11 of all places.

The finale came to an end when the female, who had gone visibly insane and had started calling herself "the human poison ivy", was eventually overpowered and decapitated. I stopped watching once the male was announced as the Victor.

Those Games awakened...something in me. I changed my idea as to what I'd do if I were a tribute drastically. I decided that I would use the manipulative tactics of the District 11 female and combine them with my newfound obsession with plants. I would take up the "human poison ivy" mantle.

''The only difference is that I'll actually succeed in winning. I will emerge victorious ''

My reaping dress reflected my awakening. The floor-length, green velvet dress was decorated with vines and leaves. The headdress was made out of black roses, as well as more vines and leaves. My shoes weren't of significance and my dress would hide them. On my black jewelry stand was the finishing touch to my outfit, a necklace made out of real emeralds.

Although I was more than capable of getting myself dressed, the servants insisted on helping me. My mind drifted back into my memories.

I started reading books about plants, which helped me fall asleep. I tried to read as much as I could in order to become just as knowledgeable about plants as the District 11 tributes.

To try and develop my manipulation skills, I hosted parties for my "friends". My attempts at replicating the tactics of the District 11 female during my own parties proved to be all too easy. After all, they were gullible children. Mother and Father also hosted parties of their own during the war, serving as a real challenge.

Yet, I succeeded. I walked through the crowds of guests, eavesdropping on various conversations and collecting intel for my parents. During the war, several of the Capitol's families had banded together in solidarity, making backstabbing an easy feat. The minority of District 3 that hadn't turned on the Capitol were developing new technological weapons. My parents would have benefitted from getting a hold of these weapons to use against their own enemies, if I told them. A broken family is trying to reunite? Simple, my family could start some rumours and their dinners would become awkward fast.

I told my family everything and they listened. I suggested using unedible, harmful plants to use as ingredients for the dinners we hosted, under the guise of "boosting wartime morale". The purpose of these dinners were actually to eliminate enemies. Simple yet effective.

It was also thanks to me that I manipulated the Garrow family to turn against the Barrow family, therefore creating a stab wound in this sense of solidarity and union. All it took was a poisoned pie and a forged signature.

I was still only a child and I couldn't avoid blunders completely. We were allied to both families, so when the disputes between the two got violent, they forced us to side with one. We weighed up the benefits of both families, but we eventually ended up siding with the Garrows for their popularity, since we were already wealthy.

Having an inspiration like the District 11 female had made me a stronger and deadlier person. I wasn't going to be a sheep in the arena, I was going to be the metaphorical poison that destroys the rest slowly.

That leads me to today, where I will volunteer for the Games. The servants help fit me into my dress. Once my dress fit perfectly, thanks to the diets I were on, I put the shoes on.

The servants told me that if I wanted to look into the mirror, I'd have to wait until my hair and makeup were done and I'd put my jewelry on. I got annoyed at this, but I obeyed.

My hair was fashioned into twin ponytails, leaving some space for me to place my headdress in between. I then fastened the emerald necklace around my neck, the necklace lying on top of my collarbone.

"Now it's time for your makeup, mi'lady."

"My order was forest green lipstick, eyeshadow and eyeliner." I tell them. They bring in a tray full to the brim with forest green lipsticks and eyeshadow palettes, as well as twenty different eyeliner pencils.

"All of it is here, mi'lady."

I allow them to apply my makeup. I told them that if they didn't apply it correctly, there would be some serious consequences. Luckily, they didn't mess it up.

"You can look into the mirror now, mi'lady."

I do just that. Seeing my vision come together makes me emotional, but I fight back the tears. I can't ruin the makeup before I even arrive at the reaping arena.

"We have your bouquet, mi'lady. You said that it will be your token."

"Indeed."

The servants give me my bouquet of fake flowers. I had made it myself, as part of my vision. The flowers were a light green and were bound together by a green velvet ribbon. I made sure that every part of my outfit was consistent and this included my token.

I waved my parents goodbye as I exited the mansion. I had a group of bodyguards protecting me, helping me into the limousine. There were food and drink provided for me in the limousine, but I was more occupied with sustaining my plant knowledge than eating or drinking.

''"Hydrangeas, chrysanthemums, carnations." ''

The sun was beaming down upon the Capitol. There was not a cloud in sight to obscure the blue sky. Citizens were attired in colourful clothing, but none were as outstanding as mine.

Whilst the limousine drove past the usual pretty sights of the Capitol, I could briefly catch a glimpse of the damage caused by the rebels in the war. The reconstruction period was clearly still not over. One of the destroyed buildings was the museum for the 241st Hunger Games. Some might say that any damage done to the arena-museums was an attempt at erasing history, but the 241st Games was one of the most forgettable Games I'd ever watched. I got bored watching even the reveal of the training scores.

More damaged buildings appeared along the route to the reaping arena. Banks, cafes, restaurants. The targets of the bombs were recreational places, rather than places of strategic value.

Maybe that's why the rebels lost.

The drive through the center of the Capitol comes to an end, as the chauffeur pulls up outside the entrance to the reaping arena.

"Good luck, Ms. Sinclair. If you do become a tribute, I'll bet on you for sure!"

Much like the District 11 female in the 230th Games, I respond to the flattery with a chuckle. I then exit the limousine. The food and drink that they had supplied for me were untouched. I wasn't hungry or thirsty anyway.

The chauffeur drove away once I was ascending up the entrance's staircase. Peacekeepers were guarded on either side of the marble double doors. Banners of the Capitol emblem could be seen hanging from every window.

Before the Peacekeepers could tell me to hurry along, I increased my walking speed and made my way into the building. There was a tunnel that led into the reaping arena, the arena being an extension of the Presidential Mansion. It reminded me of the jet bridges that connected to the hovercrafts and sheltered those walking up the steps of the hovercraft to embark/walking down the steps to disembark from extreme wind or rain.

The end of the tunnel led to a balcony of the arena, where I was met with a long queue, two Peacekeepers sitting at a table and holding fingerprint scanners and the atmosphere of the arena. Lights of all different colours illuminated the arena, every section of the seating areas were filling up and spotlights were positioned to face the stage. Behind the stage were gigantic screens.

I take in my surroundings as the front part of the queue gets smaller and the queue behind me gets larger. I had been dreaming of this moment for a long time, believing that it would never happen because the Capitol didn't participate in the Games. Now, it was finally happening.

Eventually, I become the next person in line to get their fingerprint scanned. The Peacekeeper in front of me roughly grabs my hand and scans the fingerprint of my index finger. The scanner makes a beeping sound, as my information appears. IVY SINCLAIR AGE: 17 FEMALE "Labrys, take her to Section 17FA."

"Got it."

Labrys, the female Peacekeeper, rises out of her seat. The other Peacekeeper seemed confident enough to deal with the growing queue. I would ask if other potential tributes get escorted to their respective sections, but truthfully I couldn't care less.

I follow Labrys as she escorts me to Section 17FA, which I figured was the section for the seventeen year old females. When I arrive, I am met with glares.

I ignore them and sit down. Everyone around me engaged in conversation. I was waiting for the female reaping so that I could volunteer. I didn't have time to socialise when it came to the most important moment of my life.

Thirty minutes pass and I start to feel a pain in my stomach. Hunger pains. The only thing I had consumed was my diet pills. However, even hunger wouldn't stop my moment to shine.

"Hello everyone!"

I focus my attention on the stage. The cheering of the crowd increases as a familiar face walks out onto the stage. The individual in question isn't a mentor, a Gamemaker or even the President. It's Contessa Aogiri, the Capitol's favourite pop idol.

Her purple hair had been curled, not a single strand was out of place, and her purple contact lenses, which were already very noticeable, had been exaggerated by her purple makeup. She was slender and..."beautiful". Most people would say that her purple gown looked like something out of a fairytale movie. In my opinion, it was nothing special. My dress was more beautiful.

"If you don't know already, the Capitol will finally have the chance to compete in the Hunger Games!"

The crowd cheered at even the most obvious statement. I rolled my eyes.

"But to get to where we are now, a lot of sacrifices had to be made. We should never forget those who died fighting for our survival and safety."

Again, I roll my eyes.

"Because we've never competed in the Games before, there aren't any mentors. That's where I come in! I will officially do my best to guide the Capitol tributes that are reaped soon!"

Just get to the reaping video already.

Contessa goes to explain that the President made the reaping video. Each competing district and the Capitol received their own video.

The video plays once the lights have been adjusted. The President is sat in his office, with banners behind him that were identical to the ones used as decorations for the reaping.

"Greetings to the Capitol. I'm sure you must be very excited right now."

Whatever Contessa had said in the most obvious and obnoxious tone, the President described in more detail. From the beginnings of Panem, the Dark Days, District 13 supposedly being destroyed, the formation of the Hunger Games via the Treaty of Treason, Finnick Odair becoming a dual victor, District 4 being rewarded for it and the following rebellions that were crushed because of the Capitol's growing power to the civil war, the Hunger Games being put on hold for five years, the aftermath/casualties of the war, the announcement of the return of the Games, the Quarter Quell twist, District 13 being punished by having to compete and the status of Districts 0 and 14 after its annexation (the latter having been overshadowed by the war).

On top of the hunger pains that I'm trying to suppress, I begin to feel tired. I'm getting very fed up with listening to repeated information, so I take in my surroundings again. There was still conversations taking place, but they were done in whispers. They were trying to avoid getting severely reprimanded by the Peacekeepers.

"And I say to the future tributes of the Capitol, you have a major responsibility. You have to show the districts, especially the rebel districts, just who is in charge and becoming a Victor will be excellent proof of that."

After what seemed like an unbearably long hour, the big moment was finally upon us.

Upon me.

Adrenaline rushes through me, as I suppress the hunger and lethargy. Everyone around me was nothing but a blur. My concentration was on the reaping bowls being rolled onto the stage and placed next to Contessa.

"We will start with the male!"

Contessa places her arm into the male reaping bowl. She grabs a handful of envelopes and drops them, mixing it up. In her second handful, she drops all but one. This is the envelope she's chosen.

Pulling her arm out, she opens the envelope.

"Diarmuid Fragor! Section 18MB!"

The spotlights turn to Section 18MB, with the screens showing footage of the spotlights trying to identify the owner of the name on the envelope. Eventually, Diarmuid Fragor is located.

He is a miserable-looking boy with long blonde hair and blue eyes. He hadn't bothered with his reaping outfit at all, as it was just a casual t-shirt underneath a tartan coat, jeans and tennis shoes.

No one volunteers in his place.

Due to a Peacekeeper who had been guarding the section, he was able to make his way to the stage. Contessa looked rather intimidated by him, but she tried to hide this by smiling.

"Diarmuid! How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"You are the first Capitol male tribute in history!"

"Cool."

Don't make me laugh. I could easily get rid of him. I smile, knowing that the first opponent I know of is already someone I could easily kill.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Diarmuid Fragor! Now we need to pick the female tribute!"

Diarmuid also becomes a blur, as my focus returns to the reaping bowl. My heart beats rapidly and the adrenaline rushes through me once more. I nervously played with the ribbon on my bouquet.

District 11 female...230ADD...Human poison ivy...Plant knowledge...Lie and manipulate...Victory...Fame and popularity...

"S-"

...Volunteer.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

The blurs fade and I see that everyone has turned to face me, including the Peacekeepers. The spotlights locate the source of the sound; me. The screens show my face.

"We have a volunteer!"

A Peacekeeper comes towards me and grabs my arm. The adrenaline fades but my heart is still beating. I try to maintain consciousness as I realise what has just happened.

''I have just volunteered for the Hunger Games. My childhood dream was coming true. The first stage of my plan was complete.''

I was the new human poison ivy.

I couldn't help but smile. This was it.

"You are so adorable! What's your name, sweetie?" Contessa asks me.

"Ivy. Ivy Sinclair." I respond, as the Peacekeeper escorts me to the stage.

She looks at my dress. "Oooh! Like poison ivy!"

Exactly.

I'm still in shock, but I remember that this is where I needed to begin playing the persona of the sweet, innocent girl. "Do you think you have what it takes to win, Ivy?"

Facing the citizens of the Capitol, I initiate the next phase of my plan.

"Of course. I want to bring glory to the Capitol."

And eliminate the sheep.

The Reality of Superiority -- Kris Jones, District 1 Male
“I know you’ve not had a Hunger Games to fight over for the past five years, but we are not the ones responsible for that. It’s not Seraphina’s fault…”

He points to the slender, blonde-haired trainer. She holds a bowie knife in her hand. One of the new kids stands next to her.

“…it’s not Radiance’s fault…”

Out of the three Career Academy trainers, Radiance was the only one I respected and the only one whose name I bothered remembering. The other two were insignificant. A muscular man and a former victor himself, he fought in the civil war. He lost an eye as a result. Doesn’t hinder his sparring ability, though.

“…and it’s not my fault either...”

Lastly, we come to this pathetic man. Jealous of how I was the best pupil whilst he was a nobody back in his teenage years, he liked to antagonise me. I could easily pummel him into the ground if I wanted to.

“…so none of us want to hear any more complaints. Be grateful we’ve managed to keep the Academy open so you can still train. Now, use the time you've got before the reaping to practice. Every bit of training counts.”

Mr. Prosthetic Arm walks away, ending the speech. I had been practicing at the spiked club station and was ordered to pause my session in order to listen to the speech. I could choose to carry on the session or start over and aim for a new personal best record.

I pressed the option to start over. I was sent back to the main menu.

“Please type in your District 1 Career Academy identification number.”

I did so.

“Would you like to overwrite your current session?”

I press yes.

''“Your new session will begin shortly. Please pick up a spiked club from the rack.”''

The rack is below the screen. On top of it were an assortment of spiked clubs, some were made out of wood whilst others were pure metal. A common saying in the Academy was that wooden spiked clubs were the best choice for quick kills whilst metal spiked clubs were best for brutal kills.

I choose a wooden spiked club. To test its weight, I throw it up in the air and then I grab the handle to catch it.

It’s surprisingly light.

“Please stand in the center.”

I walk away from the rack and stand in the middle of the station, awaiting the appearance of the holograms.

Instead of looking at the rest of the stations, as I was positioned towards the entrance to the station, I look to the ground.

''“You have three minutes to defeat as many opponents as possible. Once the time is up-”''

I walk back to the screen and skip the explanation, before positioning myself in the centre again. I know what to do.

“Your session will begin in 3…2…1…!”

The first hologram spawned after the end of the countdown.

In my previous sessions at the spiked club station, defeating the first set of holograms was child’s play.

For the first set, I didn’t have to look away from the ground.

From the corner of my eye, I could see a neon pink blur. I took a swing of the spiked club, causing the hologram to disintegrate into the individual cubes that they were formed out of. The cubes then faded away.

To gain an advantage in combat, I trained myself to become ambidextrous. If the hologram to my left was the closest in proximity to me, I’d swing with my left hand. If it was the hologram to the right that was closer to me, I'd swing with my right hand. I alternated possession of the weapon between both hands rather than relying on a dominant hand.

After the first set, the speed in which the holograms were spawning increased. To match up with this speed, I had to look away from the ground and actually concentrate on the holograms.

The holograms were humanoid in appearance. Some were holding weapons, which were also made out of neon pink cubes. The first set of weapons that I could discern were melee weapons. Nothing complex yet.

Whenever I hit the holograms with my club, the colour of the cubes in the part of the “body” that was hit changed to neon red. The red cubes disintegrated and faded before the neon pink cubes.

The final set of holograms spawned less frequently than the previous sets, but were armed with ranged weapons. This was the set that I...

No.

''Nothing should be challenging to me. I have the best chances of winning the Games in the whole district.''

I will complete this set before the time limit is up.

I was undoubtedly a melee fighter. After all, the weapons I trained with were melee weapons. If I wanted to defeat those reliant on ranged weapons without getting hit, I would have to dodge whatever came my way and shorten the distance between myself and the opponent until I can make a direct attack.

Those reliant on ranged weapons normally turn out to be poor melee fighters.

There was the possibility that the arena would provide areas where I could take cover. But like I said, it’s just a possibility.

I could use the concrete columns that made up part of the Academy’s interior as a cover. Through the gap, I could see the first of the ranged weapon holograms. It was armed with throwing knives.

There were brief pauses after the holographic throwing knives faded. I used these pauses to shift between the different columns, gradually making my way towards the hologram.

“One minute and fifty-nine seconds remaining.”

I had to increase my speed again. The frequency in which the hologram threw the knives also increased.

As soon as I got to the final column, I shuffled along to the side; the side opposite from the hologram’s line of “vision”. In front of me was a wall of mirror panels, allowing me to see myself.

I was sweating, the sweat having dampened my dishevelled hair, and I could feel the heat radiating from my body. My blood pressure was undoubtedly on the rise.

It came as no surprise that I had a red complexion.

At least I was becoming more muscular.

Above the wall of mirrors was a balcony. The spiked club station didn’t have a second floor, the balcony was used only as a potential spawning point for these holograms.

“One minute and thirty seconds remaining.”

I return my focus to the task at hand.

If the hologram senses me once I run towards it, then my direct attack approach remains. If it doesn’t sense me, then my direct attack approach will become a surprise attack approach.

Gripping the handle of the club tightly, I run towards the hologram.

It senses me.

A direct attack it is then.

Before the hologram could throw any more knives, I take a large, majestic swing and hit it in the head. I didn’t need a metal spiked club to strike my opponents with a brutal impact.

Spiked clubs of any material can create a brutal impact if you have the strength.

I managed to “disarm” the hologram as it dropped its throwing knives. Upon “touching” the ground, the knives faded. Because of how forcefully I hit it, the hologram’s entire “head” changed from neon pink to red.

As the hologram disintegrated, I examined my surroundings for the location of the next spawning point.

A circular platform, the energy from which powered the holograms, appeared just a few feet from where I was standing.

“One minute remaining.”

It took the hologram a couple of seconds to appear. This one was clutching throwing axes in both of its “hands”.

But it would never get the chance to throw them as I hit it over the head, the close proximity between us allowing me to do so. This swing wasn’t as forceful, so only the cubes on the top of the hologram’s “head” changed colour. Still, it was enough to ensure disintegration.

“Fifty-two seconds remaining.”

I just had two more holograms left to defeat before I could surpass my previous record.

The next hologram spawned on the opposite side of the station; the side of the station I started off at. I employed the concrete column tactic, evading the throwing stars (shuriken) until I could disarm the hologram and hit it with my club.

“Twenty seconds remaining.”

I was starting to feel the pressure from last time. I ran my free hand through my now-oily hair, looking around for the spawning point.

This hologram usually spawned in places that I…couldn’t reach. In a previous session, one of the concrete columns was damaged. The part of the column that was connected to the ceiling had been destroyed, therefore transforming it into a makeshift pedestal. It was dangerous, but anyone with an ability to climb could reach the top.

To this day, I don’t know what transpired to cause the damage to the column.

The spawning point was at the top of the “pedestal”. I had no chance of reaching it to complete my session.

I was forced to give up.

“Fifteen seconds remaining.”

The spawning point still hadn’t appeared yet. I started to pluck at my hair. Waiting for this stupid hologram was draining away my time.

I look around once more.

The balcony.

It’s going to spawn on the balcony.

I forgot to mention. Even if this station did have a second floor, it would be inaccessible. There were no stairs and the fence surrounding the balcony was made out of glass.

The only way to reach the balcony is by using the ledges to climb.

And I…I can’t….

“Twelve seconds remaining.”

My…anxiety turns to frustration. Mr. Prosthetic Arm said that the training sessions were not rigged, yet this hologram has yet to show and the session is almost over.

“Ten seconds remaining.”

“Nine…”

“Eight…”

“Seven…”

My frustration then evolved into rage. Where i-

Just as I had predicted, the spawning point was on the balcony. I could see the circular platform through the glass.

Fucking bastards!

I face the arrowhead that was pointed towards me. The bowstring was pulled back, ready to fire the holographic arrow at me.

“Six…”

“Five…”

“Four…”

I take one last glance at the club.

“Three…”

“Two…”

I move the hand that was clutching the club backwards.

“One…”

I throw the club towards the hologram. At the same time, the hologram fires the arrow.

“Session over.”

The arrow faded before it could hit me.

The club managed to reach the balcony, but it didn’t hit the hologram. The hologram faded and the circular platform switched off before it could. I watched as the club hit the floor of the balcony.

I didn’t have to read my post-session statistics to know that I didn’t beat my record.

I fight the urge to hit myself a hundred times over, walking over to the screen to read the statistics.

I was one hologram away from beating my record.

“The spiked club is not a ranged weapon. You’re not supposed to throw it. Emphasis on the ‘not’.”

I recognise the obnoxious voice.

The owner of the voice is equally as obnoxious. That’s right. It’s Mr. Prosthetic Arm’s offspring. He was just as annoying as his scumbag father.

In comparison to my height and weight, he was a little runt. His supposedly “golden brown” hair had been gelled and combed, his teeth were an unnatural shade of white and his formerly large nose had been operated on so frequently to the point that it looked out of place on his face. I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that he was the biological son of Kyros Xenthe, the Master of Ceremonies for the Games. Xenthe was the epitome of unnatural appearances.

This little kid thinks he’s without any flaws.

I turned around to see that he had company. His cronies looked just as plastic in appearance as their leader. All of them were trying to “intimidate” me by grinning at me and snorting derisively.

There was a pretty pink-haired girl also standing by the entrance of the station. I didn’t know if she was with these idiots. She seemed to have strayed away from her original station, as she was holding the handle of a mace.

“Aw, the twelve-year-old thinks he can lecture me about a weapon I’ve trained with for years. I was under pressure, idiot.” I respond with a mocking tone. I could match them.

“Look guys, Kris is finally admitting that he has a weakness. Also, I’m fourteen.”

They laugh at me. I try not to get angry.

“I couldn’t care less how old you are, and I don’t have any weaknesses. I never admitted to having weaknesses. I’m the best student in this Academy, while you’re just a little brat with no skills. You could never surpass me.”

“The audacity of this buffoon. Uh, Earth to hypocritical dumbass, you’re not the best in this Academy. You have weaknesses but you just can’t bring yourself to admit it because you’re deluding yourself into thinking that you’re the best thing to happen to this district.”

I clench my right hand into a fist.

“You’re the delusional one, kid. You accuse me of being arrogant, yet you embody arrogance. Whilst I actually spent a portion of my time before the reaping training, you just walked around with your cronies acting like you’re the King of the Academy. You hardly train, so you don’t have the authority to criticise me. I’m also older and more experienced than you, which is further proof that I’m the best. If I were to have weaknesses, my physical prowess alone would cancel them out. I believe that you criticise those that are better than you because you come from a lineage of pathetic excuses for human beings.”

This starts to rile him up.

“The best pupil in this Academy would know not to throw a fucking spiked club as it’s not a ranged weapon! The best pupil would know to utilise the ledges to get to the balcony! You can’t climb because you’re fat!”

Our argument had amassed a crowd. They were about to get a show. If I couldn’t hurt the father, I’ll just hurt the son.

“I’m not fat. I’m muscular. Something that you’ll never be. On the other hand, you'll always be ugly and deformed. The same applies to your father.”

“Fuck you!”

Initiating the brawl was so easy.

And winning it was so easy. Because of the difference in height and weight, I easily overpowered him.

His cronies were cheering for him. Some of the crowd were cheering for me. Looking up for one moment, I could see the pink-haired girl smiling at me.

The annoying kid was on the floor, trying to sit up. I had punched him so hard that his nose was bleeding.

“My father should have expelled you a long time ago.”

“He can’t expel the star pupil.”

I grab him by the collar of his uniform shirt, ready to throw him against the concrete column. Yet just seconds later, the atmosphere of the crowd died.

Before I could do anything, Mr. Prosthetic Arm stopped me, gripping my wrist tightly. I let go of his son. He looks at his father, bleeding, sobbing and pointing at me.

“It’s Kris’ fault. When I confronted hi-”

“I don’t want to hear it. You should be training. The only fighting that will be tolerated is supervised sparring. As of you, Jones, my office no-”

“Leon, can I talk to him?”

Radiance makes his way past the crowd. His facial expression was neutral.

Some of the spectators of the fight started to disperse, now that it was over. Those who stayed were surprised to see Radiance intervening. He wasn't a lazy man; his status as a Victor and a soldier made that clear. He just rarely got involved in incidents like this.

"Very well, Radiance. I trust that you will be able to speak some sense into Mr. Jones here." Prosthetic Arm nods in approval of Radiance's request. He then turns to me. "Do anything of the sort again and I will inflict a severe punishment upon you. For now, once your chat with Radiance is over, I want you to go home and prepare for the reaping. As of the rest of you, get back to training."

He and his son walk away, and the rest of the crowd disperses. The pink-haired girl stays where she is. I look to the tanned, long black-haired man in front of me.

Because we were around the same height, I could directly look at him without having to move my head and neck.

“Kris, meet me in the Victors Corridor in five minutes.”

“Alright.”

Radiance walks away, leaving just me and the pink-haired girl. She was still holding the mace.

I could still see the spiked club on the floor of the balcony. I wondered if the staff would climb up to retrieve it or if they’d use the drones to pick it up.

“Weren’t you with that kid’s gang?” I ask the girl. Now that those brats or that crowd weren’t in my way, I could finally talk to her. She had medium-length pink hair, part of which had been clipped into what they call a “bun”. District 1 girls usually had really long hair, so her hair was short for the district’s standards. Her eyes looked silver or grey, her jawline was sharp and her skin was rather pale. She wore the standard uniform; a grey polo shirt with a white collar, the District 1 crest on the back and the sleeves and the Academy’s logo on the breast pocket, grey shorts with white outlines and white tennis shoes; tennis shoes being “in fashion” this season.

Around her collar was a necklace with an angel pendant that was made out of diamonds, save for the halo. The halo was made out of what appeared to be rose quartz. She also wore a diamond bracelet on her left wrist.

Her left hand was the one that she held the handle of the mace in.

So she’s left-handed, huh?

“No. I don’t hang out with annoying people.” She responds, her tone being calm, yet friendly. Before this conversation, she seemed to have no problem looking at me. Now she was glancing in different directions.

“What do you want then?”

“I wanted to say that your training session was amazing. I watched the entirety of it.”

Ah, so she was watching me the whole time. I wouldn’t have been able to see her until the end anyway.

“You think so? You don’t think I was stupid for throwing the club?”

“No, you’re not stupid. You were clearly under pressure and I could see that. That boy was wrong. It isn’t a weakness.”

“If you mean that, thank you.”

“I mean it.”

If she volunteered, there was no doubt in my mind that if she were to join the Careers, she would nominate me as the Career leader. She doesn’t appear to be malicious.

Then again malicious people can pretend to be sweet and friendly.

“Are you going to volunteer?” I ask.

“Yes. And I assume that you’ll be volunteering?” She asks me the same.

“Definitely.”

She smiles at my response. Does this girl like me or something?

“Then I guess we’ll be district partners then. Are you joining the Careers?”

“Yes.”

“Looks like we’ll also be fellow Careers. See you soon.”

I exited the training hall. I was now in the lobby.

The Academy’s lobby was finely decorated. The columns here were made out of marble, connecting to the gold and marble ceiling. The carvings on the ceiling depicted objects that were considered luxurious, such as crowns.

A sign of my victory.

The reception was located to the side of the entrance doors. Outside, there were identification card scanners for security reasons. Students and staff trying to enter the building had to swipe their cards to be granted entry.

Written on the identification cards were the identification numbers. These numbers were vital for signing into computers and training equipment, as well as gaining access to certain areas. Those having problems with their identification cards had to go to the reception. The reception itself was a light gold counter that was as long as the wall behind it, with a row of chairs pushed in. Only one of the chairs that were at this counter was occupied. The occupant was Amethyst Arengelle, the Head Receptionist of the Academy. She had the stereotypical features for a woman of District 1; blonde hair, blue eyes and a slender body. As the counter obscured the lower half of her body, I could only see her light blue button-up shirt. She wore blue-tinted sunglasses on her head.

Above Amethyst was an air conditioner. Behind her was a picture of her late relative, Lumia, who was the District 1 female in the 241st Games.

On the opposite side of the room was a giant glass display case. Inside the display case were mannequins wearing the Academy’s student uniform and the staff uniform. The staff uniform was similar to the uniform that the trainers in the Capitol wore. However, like the student uniform, the staff uniform had the Academy’s logo on them.

Some velvet seats were placed throughout the lobby, except for near the fountain. The golden fountain was in the middle of the lobby. The marble sculpture inside the fountain was the castle from the district’s crest. It was consistent with the lobby’s theme of gold and marble.

To my left was the doors leading to the Specialised Training Unit. The training hall was where everyone, regardless of age and weapon(s) of choice, practiced, as there were stations for every weapon and Games-related skill imaginable. But in the Specialised Training Unit, there were rooms that were designated specifically for a certain weapon and/or skill. Inside these rooms were specialists of those weapons/skills. Students could either frequent the rooms of their chosen weapons/skills, or they could try and practice with new weapons or develop a new skill.

At the end of the Specialised Training Unit were stairs leading to the first floor and elevators.

To my right were the doors leading to the Victors Corridor. I walk towards the doors and open them, leaving the lobby.

Rather ironically, the corridor was as cold as a morgue. At the end of the corridor was the Remembrance Hall, a room as large as the training hall. It contained nothing but the Academy portraits of the District 1 tributes that had died in the history of the Games.

I’ve never had a reason to visit the Remembrance Hall.

The reason why the Victors Corridor had its name is because the Victory Tour posters and portraits of all of District 1’s victors were on display in glass cases and golden frames. Some were from over two hundred years ago, but they were well-preserved.

My father’s portrait and Victory Tour poster was on this wall.

As I walked along the corridor, I glanced at the various posters and portraits. I’ve already seen them before, but I couldn’t help but look at them again whenever I entered the corridor.

''Especially my father’s. It filled me with pride.''

Like all of the Academy portraits of the victors, his portrait is from the year he won his Hunger Games. There’s a plaque underneath the portrait that states this:

CARTER JONES Victor of the 227th Hunger Games 227ADD Age: 17

In his younger years, my father looked like me. The only difference I could make out was the uniform. He was wearing a navy-blue blazer with the Academy’s logo on it, with a white shirt underneath. Because it wasn’t a full-body portrait, that was all I could see.

The uniform didn’t look like it was for training.

''Did they have normal uniforms back then? Would that also mean that there were normal classes alongside training sessions?''

It doesn’t make sense for the Academy to have had regular classes. Most of us were wealthy enough to afford private tutors. That and the Academy’s purpose was to train us for the Games.

But it didn’t look like he was wearing a training uniform. Blazers aren’t comfortable to fight in.

Next to the portrait was the Victory Tour poster. Dad was standing in front of a castle, much like the one on the district crest, in the beaming sunshine. He was holding the hilt of a bejewelled sword. The majority of his body was covered in knight’s armour, save for his abs and arms.

''They definitely took the fanservice angle with his poster. I aspire to be physically strong, but I don’t aspire to be ogled at once I win.''

And I will win.

Another poster that catches my attention is that of the 100th Hunger Games, also known as the 5th Quarter Quell. The victor was the red-haired Christina Parthenon. She gained the epithet “Blood Queen” after her Games, and her poster certainly reflected that. In the background were two red velvet curtains, resembling the curtains in a throne room. The golden throne that Christina was sitting on was on top of a small platform with steps leading up to it, much like the Presidential Chair during inaugurations. The steps and the walkway to the throne was covered in a red carpet. To the side of the carpet were the “bodies” of two women, their throats having supposedly been slit (I know they were just actors hired by the Capitol to feature in the poster). They wore plain, white dresses whilst Christina was wearing a red gown and a ruby crown on her head. In her right hand she held a goblet filled with “blood”. Droplets could be seen spilling from the goblet.

''“Wanna know a fun fact? She’s my ancestor.”''

Radiance couldn’t startle me. Stealth was another of my advantages, besides my physical strength and my combat ability.

“Radiance, I know this is about the fig-”

“Yes, and because I want to give you some words of wisdom before you prepare for the reaping. Not as your sparring partner or your teacher or even as a Victor, but as someone who knows what you are capable of. Maybe even as a friend, if you consider me that.”

Friends?

“We should go into my office.”

“In the Specialised Training Unit?”

“No, here.”

He points the door behind us. His office was located next to the Remembrance Hall.

“I’ll explain everything once we’re inside.”

Radiance opens the door for me. I walk in first and he walks in behind me, closing the door. His office here was much different than his office in the Specialised Training Unit. He had plants in all four corners, as well as the same mirror panels from the spiked club station in the training hall. In the spaces that weren’t covered by mirrors, there were motivational posters and posters related to healthy living.

In the corner by the window was his desk and two chairs, his desk chair and the chair on the opposite side.

The view from the window was of the entire district, even the Reaping Square.

I take a moment to look at myself in the mirror panels. The sweat had stained my training uniform shirt. The air conditioning had only made the dampened areas of my shirt cold against my body.

“Once you sit down, we’ll begin talking.”

I sit down in the chair opposite to Radiance.

“I’ll give you answers to all of your questions and I’ll hear you out. Firstly, if you’re wondering why I have two offices, it’s simply because I applied for an extra space and Leon granted it. He kept nagging me about how much stuff I have, so I’m guessing that’s why he accepted it.”

I didn’t ask why he had two offices; he must have just assumed that I didn’t know because of my confusion.

“You’re going to give me advice, but you might be chosen as one of my mentors. If you are chosen, why not wait until the train rides?”

Radiance smiles sadly.

“There’s so many victors in this district that my chances of being selected are minimal. That’s why I’m giving you my advice now. If I am selected, then I’ll carry on giving you more words of wisdom right up to when I have to send it to you through sponsor messages in the arena, if you volunteer.”

“I’ll volunteer. I only have two opportunities left. I’ll take the first opportunity I get. And I will come out victorious, so I can join my father on that wall outside.”

His smile briefly becomes more sorrowful.

“I’ll get to that in a moment. But first, the fight. Can you explain to me what happened?”

TBA