User blog:Jabberjay78/The Doomsday Games Parts 1&2

The archive for the first two (currently one) parts of my fifth games, the Doomsday Games!(http://thehungergames.wikia.com/wiki/User_blog:Jabberjay78/One_Last_Games)

Introduction to the games
100 years have passed since the Capitol abolished the Hunger Games once and for all. But the world has not forgotten the brutal and sinister nature of these horrid competitions. The Games can never come back.

But for every sane person out there in the nation, there are a few who disagree. There are a few who believe the games should’ve continued, and the nation should not have been deprived of paying for their sins in the form of young sacrifices. These people have a plan, a plan to construct the greatest Hunger Games the nation has ever seen. Then, they will all see the light. And if they do not, they will suffer as they watch the deaths of two children from every district broadcasted on national television.

And they will never find the arena. Even if they do, it will be too late. For these games come with a twist. There will be no victor, not if the Hunger Games are not reinstated by the government. The nation will be forced to pay for their sins one final time.

This is the Doomsday Games.

And may the odds be ever in your favor.

Rankings
Part One

30. Trick Treat (#1): bludegeoned with bag of rocks by gamemaker trap (Day 2)

29. Scarecrow Shade (#2): arrow through the chest by gamemaker trap (Day 2)

28. Theo Clair (#3): crushed by a boulder (Day 2)

27. Argus Dimonun (#4): hit over head by rock (Day 3)

26. Saidy Dauntless (#5): stabbed in the back by Falcon Generate (Day 3)

25. Evan Turner (#6): knife to the back by Avelina Rose (Day 3)

24. Astoria Lovelace (#7): throat slit by Sash Bloodhound (Day 3)

23. Toby Macklemore (#9): stabbed by Hayden Light (Day 3)

The Twist Explanation
As revealed in Day 3, the twist is that each of the tributes were randomly assigned numbers, which are tattooed on their ankles, before entering the arena. The numbers establish an order in which the tributes are supposed to die. The tribute with # 1 is first. # 1 will either be murdered by a gamemaker trap, or by another tribute. Gamemakers will target the tribute who is next to die if no one else attempts to kill them. While # 1 is alive, no other tribute is able to die. However, # 1 can evade death by killing # 2. No one else can kill # 2 (or #'s 3-30 until later), however. If # 1 kills # 2, then they end up at the end of the order (# 31, if you will). In addition, if any of the tributes kill # 1, they will forsake their own number and end up at the end of the order (again, # 31). This will continue until only one is left. When # 1 is dead, # 2 is at risk, and can only be moved to the end of the order by killing # 3. If # 1 ended up evading death by killing # 2, then # 3 is put at risk, and can only survive by killing # 4. And so it continues...

TRIBUTES CANNOT BE KILLED OUT OF ORDER (the only time this can happen is when a tribute who is next to die is able to kill the person immeadiately after them in order to be moved to the end of the order)

Hope this is clearer now :)

Part One: The Secret
Outside of the Arena

The man at the control desk smiles as his eyes dart around to each of the fifty surveillance screens on the wall in front of him. Together, these cover every square inch of the arena. The arena he had helped construct. Some of the screens show nothing but roaring waters, or tall trees, or empty hallways. But some of them show people, kids, peacefully unconscious and lying on the ground.

“The sedative is set to wear off within the next minute,” says the woman at the desk. She looks around to the several levers and buttons at her desk, as if already considering what trap or storm to conjure in the arena.

The man smiles deviously. Some of the kids on the screens have already started to wake up.

“Then let the games begin…”

Day One
Evan Turner, D7, Forest

The first thing I see is bright sunlight.

I’m lying on the ground, covered in leaves and dirt, and surrounded by trees. I stumble up from the ground, a sharp pain travelling through my head. I almost black out, so I grab hold of a nearby tree.

Where am I? This looks like District 7, but something isn’t right. It’s too bright and peaceful here, and there’s no one in sight. And I can’t remember anything. Even if I shake out my head, or bang it against a tree or two, I just can’t figure out how I got here. The last thing I can remember is trying to fall asleep in my bed, trying to ignore the fact that my best friend’s corpse is still in the basement…

That’s when I hear the worst sound I could possibly ever hear.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The sound that means I’m either dreaming, or I’m about to be dead.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Reyna Alvarez, D12, Beach

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The sound of a gong rings out from all directions. It startles me so badly that I fall to the ground and cover my ears like I’m trying to hide from a bomb. But this is much worse than a bomb.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I remember learning about this gong in class. The gong that hasn’t sounded for one-hundred years. The Hunger Games gong.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">But surely, that can’t be it. The Hunger Games were banned one-hundred years ago. And even if they brought them back, we would at least have some kind of notice. And a reaping. And chariots and interviews. Right?

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">So what the heck is going on?!

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Silvia Hake, D2, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">A Hunger Games? With no bloodbath?! Ripoff…

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">This is great. This is more than great! I’m in a Hunger Games, a real Hunger Games! At least I think so…I’ve never seen a Hunger Games indoors before. Maybe I’m just dreaming, or in some kind of reenactment or something. Whatever. All I know is I’m ready for this.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">All I need is some knives or a bow, and then the fun can start.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Rebel Peacock, D13, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">A few seconds after the gong goes off, the loudspeakers boom with the sound of the announcer’s voice.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Welcome tributes! You have all been specially selected to participate in the First Annual Hunger Games!”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I look to the sky, not exactly sure where to yell. “You can’t do this!” I spit out, not caring who else hears me. “They abolished the games years ago.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I’m afraid your government has nothing to do with these games,” the announcer says. Apparently he heard me. “But once they revel in the sheer magnificence that is the Hunger Games, they will surely reinstate them.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’m speechless. This can’t be happening.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Of course, these games come with a twist. If you can figure it out, you may have a better chance of surviving here. But in the end, all will die but one. No matter what you do.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Happy Hunger Games.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The loudspeaker makes a buzzing noise and the voice fades away.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Olympia Valles, D5, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">They picked the wrong girl to kidnap.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">As the voice fizzles out, I come to terms with what is happening around me. This is a Hunger Games, and, whether I like it or not, we are all about to die. Our only hope is for our government to discover these secret Games and come rescue us. Our only hope is for us to refrain from hurting each other.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">But I know that isn’t going to happen. All it takes is a little fear and desperation to turn a bunch of teenagers into murderers; myself included. Because I know if I have to, I’ll take down a tribute or two, just to get out of here. I pray that I’ll be able to convince some others to have a heart, and not hurt anyone else.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">All I know is I have to get home. I have to get home, for Serge.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Lightning Tree, D0, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The first thing I do is run.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I take off through the halls of the dark, depressing building, looking for something I could use as a weapon. If I’m going to survive these Games, I need to be prepared. As I round a corner, I arrive at a box of spears. Perfect, my signature weapon. I grab a spear, and snatch a backpack that’s sitting next to the box, and bolt out the front doors of the building.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’m blinded by sunlight as I emerge from the factory. Right in front of me is a beach. Sunlight reflects off of the deep blue water, which seems to surround the entire arena. I’m on an island. Great, way to give an advantage to the District 4 tributes.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I turn around to see what lies at the other end of the island. I smile as I do. It’s a forest, a giant forest, just like the kind I used to go hunting in almost every day back home.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">With my spear in hand, I take off for the trees.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Saidy Dauntless, D6, Beach

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I see the gamemakers have a great taste in tributes, or should I say, future victors. Why else would they pick me? I can’t wait to add this to my list of achievements.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">From what I’ve read about these games, the victors are always the most brutal tributes, the most skilled tributes, or, in some cases, the wimpiest tributes who no one expected to win. Considering I am the most skilled tribute here, obviously, I will easily win these games.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I blow a quick kiss to the sky, letting the gamemakers see how thankful I am that they picked me.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Falcon Generate, D11, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I don’t know if anyone can see these games from back home, but if they can, I hope Tessa is rooting for me. I just hope she isn’t here.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I seriously have no idea what to do next. There are no weapons, food, water, or even other people in sight. I decide to walk around for a while, always making sure I’m on my guard. Only a few feet away, I discover a backpack hanging from a tree. Before I try to open it, I poke it with a stick to make sure it isn’t rigged. It doesn’t explode or spontaneously combust. That’s a good sign.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Inside the backpack are two knives, a canteen of water, a sleeping bag, and some crackers and chicken. At the bottom is a small piece of paper that reads: “Falcon Generate, District 11.” Apparently we get our own supplies in these games.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I put on the pack and scale a nearby tree, one of my knives at the ready. As I perch on one of the taller branches, I grab a small picture from my pocket. I can’t believe the gamemakers left it in there. It’s a picture of me and Tessa, arm-and-arm and smiling. I was so happy when I was with her. But I know there’s no time for love or memories in these games. I have to focus on getting back home.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Tessa Powers, D11, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I hope Falcon isn’t in these games. And if he’s watching back home, I hope he doesn’t have to see me die.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">No, Tessa, get a hold of yourself. You’re not going to die. You’ll win these for Falcon, and maybe then he’ll forgive you.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">But as hard as I try to convince myself that I won’t die, I know what happens in these games. Everyone dies. The weak, the strong, the scared, the fearless, the beautiful, the ugly, the friendly, and the mean. No one is safe. Only one person ever escapes these games, and they get that way by being lucky.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I try to shake these thoughts away. I grab the backpack with my name on it and start to wander around, hoping I can clear my head.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I just hope the rest of the tributes in here are as scared as I am.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Trick Treat, D9, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">My backpack is full of my favorite things. Knives, swords, spider webs, and vials of blood. I feel like it’s Christmas! I mean Halloween.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I take a quick sip of one of the vials of blood. Ugh! AB positive, that’s my least favorite. I guess I’ll just have to earn some of my own later on.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The gamemakers were smart enough to put me in the densest, darkest part of the forest. Where no one can see me. And where no one can hear the screams of my victims…

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Just then, my first victim rounds the corner. Only it’s not a helpless tribute or a future victim. It’s Scarecrow Shade, my friend from District 10. The gamemakers were even smarter than I thought, putting us both in here. They obviously want to see some real carnage.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Scarecrow grins from ear-to-ear the second I enter her sight. “Looks like the Killer Ladies are back in business!”

<p class="MsoNormal">

Lucas Sunsong, D9, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Don’t die Lucas, don’t die Lucas!

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">That’s what I think every few seconds. I just can’t believe this. First death took my mom, then my twin brother…hasn’t it had enough?

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I try and find a place to hide, hoping I can live off of the crackers and water in my backpack for at least a few days. And hoping even more that no one finds me. At least I have a blowgun, some darts, and a vial of poison. Together, I have a lethal weapon that can kill from at least twenty feet away.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I may not have been able to defend my mom when the mutt attacked, but I can at least defend myself now. I hope…

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Ophid Carne, D14, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’ve only been here for five minutes and I’m already caught in a trap, hanging inside of a net at least ten feet in the air. Great, I’ll be the first to die.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I try and reach my backpack. If I can just snatch my knife, I’ll be able to get myself out of this thing and away from here. But this is one strong net.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Only a few seconds pass before I hear footsteps on the forest floor. Shoot, shoot, shoot! Someone’s coming! I stop moving, and stop breathing. Okay, as long as they don’t notice me, I’ll be okay. The person gets closer and closer, then stops dead. I hear the sound of a knife being drawn. As I said before, I’m Ophid Carne, and I’ll be the first to die in these games.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">This stinks.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Sash Bloodhound, D1, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Kill people, burn stuff. That’s all I know, and I can’t wait to do it.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Here, in the Games, there are no rules. No peacekeepers, no laws…only total freedom. These games may just be some lunatic’s crazy dream to bring these things back, but I agree with him one-hundred percent! Right now, he’s my idol. And when I get out of here, I’ll kill him too. It’s just common courtesy.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">A girl suddenly rounds a corner, headed right for me. She must be blind or something, because she doesn’t look scared at all. She looks like a decorated princess or something. She’ll go down easy. Just as I get ready to throw a knife, she opens her mouth, probably to scream in terror.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Hey, are you mental or something?” she yells. I straighten up, confused. “You’re just standing there like some kind of idiot. Yes, I know, you’ve probably never seen a girl as stunning as me before. By the looks of you, you’ve probably never seen a girl at all.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I tighten my grip on my knife. But something keeps me from throwing it. Maybe it’s because I’ve never seen a girl so commanding yet vicious—and don’t forget hot—before.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I’m Georgia, and you’re coming with me,” she continues. “We have some tributes to kill.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I put my knife and my pocket and follow the pretty girl.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Angelique Bluesong, D4, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I slash the rope tied to a tree and the girl in the net comes tumbling down from the sky. She lands with a thud, and she just cowers there, trying to hide in the net. I come closer, my knife at the ready.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Are you serious?” I say, and she looks up at me with weak eyes. “I could kill you, right now, and you’re just going to sit there?” She tries to struggle, but apparently she’s no stronger than the net. “I’m not going to kill you, I’m here to ask for an alliance.” The girl looks confused, like she’s never heard the word, but she knows she has no other choice.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Thank you,” she whispers. I kneel down and cut her out of the net, then she gives me a big hug. Seems like a stupid thing to do considering I’m still holding my knife.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Okay, now let’s make sure we stay away from nets from now on,” I say, “and let’s get out of here, before someone not so friendly finds us.”

<p class="MsoNormal">

Theo Clair, D8, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I have no idea what’s going on. Suddenly I’m in the middle of some forest; this doesn’t look like District 8 at all. Maybe if I still had my hearing I’d understand what’s going on, or where I am.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">It only takes a little bit of walking around for me to find a backpack hanging from a tree branch. I grab a hold of it and open it up. Inside are some water bottles, food, a sleeping bag, and…knives? Where am I?

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Beneath all of these materials is a slip of paper reading: “Theo Clair, District 8.” Under that, in small print, it says, “Welcome to the Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The Hunger Games? I sigh. Of course I know what the Hunger Games are. Before I ended up in District 8, I was raised in District 13. The abolished games are a huge topic there, though they’re talked about a lot in all of the districts. Before the peacekeeper torturing left me deaf, I had heard about the games dozens of times. I’d even heard about most of the victors.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I don’t think a deaf tribute has ever won a Hunger Games.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Sydnee Wren, D13, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I try to stay quieter than a fawn as I jump around in the woods. With every snap of a twig or rustle of a leaf, I stop dead. But I haven’t seen anyone; not yet.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Scratch that. Suddenly, I see a boy hurtling towards me, a giant spear in his hand. I’m frozen, my feet stuck in the ground like they were planted in cement. But then I remember where I am. If I want to live, I have to defend myself. I toss my backpack off of my shoulders and get ready to search for my knife. But the boy gets to my pack first.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">My backpack is suddenly hoisted into the air. I look up to see my attacker. It’s some blond kid with glowing green eyes. His spear—or javelin, or whatever—is stuck through the handle of my pack, and he’s just standing there with it, smiling.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I wait for him to kill me, but instead he says, “Hey.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I stare at him, confused. “You just stuck an eight-foot stick into my backpack like a shish-ka-bob and you just say hey?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Sorry. Do you prefer hi?” I can’t help but laugh at that. “So, does an alliance sound good to you?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Sure.” Okay, I may have been thinking that, but it definitely didn’t come from my mouth. I spin around, and some red-head is standing there as if the kid with the spear was talking to her. “I’m Olympia.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Cool, I’m Lightning,” the boy says. He flashes a smile, and his green eyes sparkle brighter than lightning.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I finally grab my knife, and I stick it in my pocket. “And I’m Sydnee.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Well I guess we have an alliance then,” says Olympia.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Katarin “KM” Lao, D3, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">It’s like career city here or something. There are already four of them on the first floor, though they don’t exactly look ready to go kill people or anything. They’re just sitting there.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I don’t even know if they are careers; no one gets trained for these things, considering they haven’t existed for one-hundred years. But they sure look tough, and some of them look pretty scary. Plus, they’ve all got some really sharp knives and swords.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">There are a bunch of frightened tributes trapped in this place, and it only takes ten minutes for the only scary people here to become BFFs. That sure bodes well for the rest of us.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I probably could kill them if I wanted to. At least one of them, probably two. But it’s too big a risk. For now, I’ll just spy on them. They don’t even know I’m here, hanging fifty feet above them on this catwalk. Maybe later, when most of the other tributes have died from fright or stab wounds, or both, I’ll construct a trap to finish off the rest of them.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">After all, I am from District 3.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Silvia Hake, D2, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I didn’t plan on being in a real career alliance, but I’m not sure I had a choice. When that threatening girl from 8 and her friends found me, it was join up with them or die. And I’m not about to go down that easily.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">They must’ve known I was strong and skilled, otherwise they would’ve taken me down on the spot. I guess it’s not such a bad thing. I had planned from the very beginning to insidiously take down every tribute here, so being in an alliance with some other killers suits me. At least until I have to kill them all as well. And this way, they won’t see it coming.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I will win these games. And I will take down every tribute here by myself.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Toby Macklemore, D14, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">A career alliance? That totally fits my style.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">It’s me, the creepy dude from 1, that quiet girl from 2, and the smokin’ hot girl from 8. I’d probably put my moves on her, but I bet she’d stab me in the heart. Whatever. I’ll get her eventually. And then I’ll kill her. That’s just how things work around here.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“What exactly are we doing, just standing around?” I finally say.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Georgia stares daggers at me, which is pretty hot. “Because I said so. It’s heated in here, and we’re protected from the elements. Plus, if you haven’t noticed, there are running water fountains in here. If you really want to risk your life traipsing around in the woods like a deer, then be my guest!”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“But shouldn’t we be hunting down some tributes?” The boy from 1 complains.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Georgia grits her teeth. “We’ll get to that.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Suddenly, a flash of black and red hair emerges from behind a giant machine. She comes running straight for me, a glinting knife in her hand. I turn just in time for her to tackle me to the ground. She pulls my head up and holds a knife to my neck. My so-called alliance members don’t even have time to react.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I want an alliance,” the girl says. She presses the knife harder to my neck.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Georgia flashes an arrogant smile, then starts to slowly clap her hands. “What an entrance!” she beams. “Welcome to the team.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The girl from 7 smiles, then lets me go. My face hits the cold floor, and Georgia starts to laugh.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Smooth.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Argus Dimonun, D12, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’ve never been in a real-life forest before. I know there’s one in District 12, but it’s behind an electric fence, and I would never dare go there. It’s off-limits at all times. The last person who went there was publically executed.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">It’s really not as great as I thought. There are no animals around, just a few birds here and there. I try climbing a tree, but I can’t. I try finding a good place to hide, but I can’t.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I finally stumble upon a clean lake, just sitting in the middle of the forest. I decide to make camp a few feet away from it. It’s probably not the smartest idea to be so out in the open, but I’m not afraid of anyone coming by. I’ve got knives. The few people here who’ll get the privilege of seeing me throw a knife won’t live to tell that tale.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Spider Tablo, D2, Lighthouse

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">So I’m the only tribute in the lighthouse? Score!

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">This is seriously sweet. I can go to the top floor and spy on the tributes in the forest, or I can go hide amongst all of the packing boxes on the third floor, or I can play around with all of the knives they keep on the second floor. And there’s no one here to stop me; at least not yet.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’m sure a bunch of the tributes here will see the colorful, giant lighthouse and come running. Well even if they do, I’ll be ready. Either I start an alliance, or I start a murder. It doesn’t really matter that much to me.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I head back up to the top floor and look down at the forest. I can see a few people here and there. Some of them are in the trees, as if no one will notice them there. There’s a kid by the lake, a kid trying to climb a tree, and a kid calmly heading for the factory. As long as they stay away from here, I’m okay. I grab my knife and continue to stare out the window, watching the tributes like they’re pawns on a chessboard.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Fuchsia Terranova, D0, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">It’s already nighttime. I don’t know if it’s just me, or if this day has gone by way too fast. I feel like it’s only been a few minutes since I woke up in this arena and learned I was supposed to turn into a killer. Whatever, time flies when you’re scared out of your mind.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I haven’t heard a single cannon today; no tributes have died yet. I hope that means our government will be that much closer to finding these games and stopping them. Then we can all go home. Because if we don’t…well, I know I won’t be able to kill anyone here. It’s kill or be killed in these games, and I’m not about to go around killing people.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">High up in my tree, I close my eyes and try to fall asleep. Hopefully when I wake up, I’ll be back home, in my own bed…

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Outside of the Arena

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“No deaths today,” says the woman at her desk as she broadcasts the anthem throughout the arena. Not a single face appears in the sky; not today.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“We must do better tomorrow,” says the man with her.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The woman nods. “If they won’t move towards each other, then we’ll have to give them a little push.” She smiles deviously.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Yes, that would be ideal.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The anthem finishes, and the arena fades into darkness.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">End of Day One

<p class="MsoNormal"> <h3 class="MsoNormal"> Day Two  Chase Locke, D6, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">No tributes dead yet; well, I’m not about to be the first. I spend my night in a tree, probably like a bunch of the other people in here, before I pack up my stuff and run. I know I can’t stay in the same place for the whole games and expect no one to find me.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’m not exactly sure where to go, I just follow the river along the forest, knowing that I can’t be without water. Even with all of the bottles in my backpack, I know I’ll run out fast. Suddenly, a rock comes out of nowhere and trips me! I land in a small clearing, eating dirt and leaves as I hit the ground.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” I look up for the source of the voice. It’s some short girl with black hair. She lends me her hand and helps me up. “I’m Reyna,” she says.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I smile. “I’m Chase,” I respond. “Aren’t we supposed to be killing each other?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“That’s exactly what we’re not supposed to do.” Reyna and I spin around.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">There’s a girl leaning against one of the trees, smiling, as if she’s been waiting for this moment for ages.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Hayden Light, D4, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Either this is one big building, or there really aren’t that many tributes in here. It’s been a whole day, and I haven’t seen a soul. It’s a shame really, I was kinda looking forward to making an alliance with someone.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The worst thing about this place is that everything echoes off the walls. I may not have seen any other tributes, but I’ve definitely heard them. There’s a big group in here—I’d say about five, based on how many voices I’ve heard—and they’re clearly ruthless. They’ve been fighting each other, their knives constantly clashing together, in order to train for the moment they find a helpless tribute.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I calmly move onto the second floor and hide behind a machine with a bunch of gears. I can’t see anyone from here, and no one can see me. I just hope things stay that way. As much as I want an alliance, I can’t risk being found by those five ruthless tributes. I only hope they leave the factory soon.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Reyna Alvarez, D12, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I thought the girl was about to kill us. Instead, she just smiles. “I’m Olympia,” she says. Two other tributes walk up behind her.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“If she creeped you out or something, don’t be alarmed,” says the blond boy in the group, “she does that a lot.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Olympia smiles. “Sorry, I just prefer strength in numbers, and you guys look like you would make good allies.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Seriously?” I blurt out. I mean, I’m small and scrawny. I think I read “dead meat” more than “tribute buddy.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Chase looks like he’s carefully considering the decision, weighing the pros and cons of this alliance proposal in his mind. “Alright,” he finally says, “an alliance sounds good.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">We all proceed to introduce ourselves. My new alliance consists of me, Chase, Olympia, a boy named Lightning, and a girl named Sydnee.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">In my head, I’m cheering with happiness. There’s no way I stood a chance on my own. But these four are strong, I can tell. My chances of winning just skyrocketed.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Sparks Fly, D3, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I wake up to the sound of whispering.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I can see you…” I hear that same, disturbing voice at least five times. Just as I start to believe that it’s all in my head, I look down from my tree. Standing there is a girl with black and orange hair and pointed teeth. “Come down boy! I’m thirsty for your blood!”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’m so scared I can’t move. I can only slowly look up and away from her. My eyes connect with something in front of me, hiding within the leaves of the tree next to mine. I move my head closer, trying to figure out what it is.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“BOO!” A girl jumps up from the tree, flashing her pointed teeth and her orange eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I jump back so far that I begin to tumble out of my tree, my backpack still in my hand. I finally grab hold of a branch just a few feet down and I stop free-falling. What the heck! Those weren’t tributes! Those were freaks!

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Just a little closer!” the girl with the orange hair yells. “I can already smell your blood!” The girl who looks like a scarecrow starts to jump down from the branches, headed straight for me.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">That’s it, I’m getting out of here. I grab one of my three knives and toss it at the girl above me. It clips her in the arm, and she screams.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I turn around and leap from my tree and onto the next. I keep going, hopping from branch to branch like I’m a grasshopper. I can no longer hear the psychotic screams of that disturbing girl. I can only hope that means I got away. I’ll see the two of them in my nightmares tonight, assuming I even live that long.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Scarecrow Shade, D10, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">As soon as the knife hits me, I come tumbling down from the tree. I land right on Trick with the knife still in my arm. “Ugh!” I scream. “I’m going to kill that boy!” Trick starts to lick the blood off of my arm, and I shove her away in disgust. I stand up and dust myself off.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Let’s go find him then,” says Trick, smiling evilly.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I pull the knife right out of my arm, not even bothering to bandage the wound. It’s a nice mark of honor now. “I think he went this way.” I take off through the woods, my legs fueled by anger and vengeance. But the boy is nowhere in sight.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Suddenly, my foot hits something in the ground. I stop dead and turn around. It’s a button or something. Just as I begin to wonder what it does, Trick points upwards, her face fearful for what’s probably the first time.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I look up to see a giant bag of rocks, swinging down the sky. I jump out of the way, but Trick isn’t so lucky. From my spot on the ground, I watch as Trick is struck square in the chest and is sent sprawling into a tree.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">BOOM!

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I stand back up in confusion. My fellow Killer Sister…dead. I…I can’t believe it. I stare at Trick’s lifeless body as the bag of rocks continues to swing back-and-forth. I know how I’ll honor her memory; I’ll kill that boy who threw a knife at me.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I start to walk off when my foot finds another concealed button. Apparently I have a knack for steeping on these things. I look up just in time to see an arrow shoot through my chest.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">BOOM!

<p class="MsoNormal">

Aiden Clifton, D5, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I almost can’t comprehend the sound…the sound of a cannon. Not one, but two of them. Two tributes have died. Stuff just got real.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I try to keep myself calm, but it isn’t an easy task. After all, one of those cannons could sound for me pretty soon.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">At least I’m up here in the trees; hopefully no one can see me here. And hopefully there aren’t any gamemaker traps here either.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I grab my backpack and move to another tree. I climb higher and higher, hoping no one will ever find me here. I’m too scared to do anything but sleep. I dream about the day when all of the other tributes in here are dead…and I’m declared victor…

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I hope that can become reality soon.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Astoria Lovelace, D1, Beach

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I don’t know who those cannons were for, but at least they weren’t for me. Two tributes down; that only leaves twenty-seven more to go.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I sit on the beach, staring towards the calm forest, my spear in one hand and my knife in the other. If any tributes want to come get me, then they can come at me! See what happens then…

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Just twenty-seven more cannons and I’m out of here…

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Olympia Valles, D5, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">My alliance members stare at me like I’m an idiot. I just spent the last ten minutes explaining to them why we should refrain from killing anyone else. They clearly don’t agree.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">There’s a long moment of silence before Lightning says, “So you want us to just sit here and wait to die?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“That doesn’t sound like a very smart choice,” says Chase.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Guys, I know I sound crazy, but we only have two options here. We can either go into bloodbath mode until only one tribute out of this whole island is left alive, or, we can hold out until our government comes to rescue us. We don’t exactly have anything to lose…”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Except our lives,” says Reyna with a frown.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“And if we just go around killing each other then at least four of us will lose our lives as well. We might as well try.” No one says anything, and I sigh. “If we can just gather a bigger alliance, we’d be unstoppable. Nothing could kill us. Don’t you guys want to live?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">My group is smart enough to say yes to this. “Alright, so if we all agree on this, then we can only hurt people if they threaten us first. And from now on, we take a pledge that we will all get out of these games alive, okay?” My group says yes to this as well.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Good.” I can only hope they all truly agree with me. The last thing I want right now is to get stabbed in the back by my own alliance, figuratively and literally.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Chase Locke, D6, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Okay, I'm starting to think Olympia might be a little nuts. I don’t think a tribute has ever tried a pledge of non-violence in a games before. And even if one has, I bet they didn’t live to talk about it.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">But for some reason, I almost think she’s right. Two cannons have already sounded, so we all know that not everyone in here has good intentions, but if we can just gather enough people, we’ll have strength in numbers. We can be unstoppable…even if the gamemakers try to take us down with traps. We can live…

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I've made a pledge to these four tributes, and I will stay true to that promise. I will protect them with my life, even if this crazy plan doesn't work out. I just hope this plan doesn't get me killed.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Avelina Rose, D7, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I can see the boy from 9 moving along the hallway. He’s trying to be sneaky. He thinks he can get away!

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I turn to Sash. “Can you see him?” I whisper. Apparently not, at least until I tell him. The second his eyes lock with the fleeing boy, he licks his lips and flashes his eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Our first victim is in sight.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">We rally up our other three careers and begin to slowly stalk the boy. We’re armed with an assortment of glittering weapons, I mean torture tools; knives, maces, swords, daggers, spears, scythes…you name it, we probably have it. We’re going to make his death long and painful. As long as we’re here, we might as well have fun.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The boy doesn’t even know we’re there, just twenty feet behind him, slowly creeping up towards him. I could probably throw my knife into his back right now. He wouldn’t even see it coming.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Suddenly, he turns around. His eyes light up in fear. He’s about to die, and he knows it.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Lucas Sunsong, D9, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Oh crud.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The last thing I thought I would see when I turned around was five crazy people with glinting weapons and angry eyes. I’m going to die now. I’m definitely going to die.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Where do you think you’re going?” the blond girl from 8 asks me. I can’t even answer her. I’m frozen in fear. “We were hoping you’d like to play a little game with us…”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Yeah, a game!” yells the dark and creepy guy from 1. “It’s called we’re going to kill you painfully.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“That’s a horrible name for a game, Sash,” says the girl from 7.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The girl from 8 looks like she’s about to explode. “Just kill him you idiots!”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Sash turns and chucks his knife straight for my heart. I…I can’t move. I can only watch as his silver knife spins towards me, ready to seal my fate for eternity.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Then, something amazing happens.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Georgia Westlake, D8, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Just as I’m ready for the boy from 9 to fall to the ground, Sash’s knife bounces off of the air and comes hurtling back. It sticks itself into the ground right in front of his feet.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“What the heck?!” yells Avelina. She grabs one of her own knives and chucks it at the boy, who’s too stupid to move. It bounces off of the force field as well, and it sinks into the wall.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The boy from 9 looks like he just got the biggest Christmas present in the world. His smile is brighter than the sun, and it makes me sick. He turns and bolts away, leaving the five of us speechless.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Silvia slowly advances forward, moving dreamily towards the force field. I should probably stop her, but I don’t really care that much. If she dies, she dies. It will make winning easier for me. But she keeps going, farther and farther down the hallway. The force field is gone, as if it was never there.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Avelina retrieves her knife from the wall. “Should we go try to find that kid again?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Don’t bother,” I say with a snarl. My group looks confused. “The stupid gamemakers just saved that kid’s life.”

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Theo Clair, D8, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I make my way towards the densest part of the forest. I won’t be able to hear any tributes coming, but at least I can hide myself down here. Thankfully, my hearing is still good enough that I heard the two cannons, even if they just sounded like tiny buzzes in my ears.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">On my way through the forest, I pass a few buttons on the ground. They must be gamemaker traps. I’m just glad I saw them before I could set them off. That would be disastrous.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I finally arrive at a small cave. It’s eerie and pitch-black, but thankfully, my backpack came with night-vision goggles. I put them on and venture inside. The first thing I see are two backpacks. Next to the backpacks are…vials of blood? I take a closer look around the cave. Whatever tributes were here, they must have been crazy. There are several torture machines constructed out of tree branches and assorted weapons. These two may not be here now, but I better leave before they come back. I run from the cave as if it was on fire.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">As I emerge from the darkness and remove my night-vision goggles, I can hear a faint sound in the background. It can’t be a cannon, because it lasts much longer. The ground starts to rumble as the sound gets louder. I turn around and look up at the top of the cave entrance.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">A giant boulder rolls down from the top of the cave and heads straight for me. I don’t survive long enough to even faintly hear my own cannon sound.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">BOOM!

<p class="MsoNormal">

Falcon Generate, D11, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">A third cannon. Alright, this is getting bad. I jump down from my tree and take off through the woods. For all I know, those cannons could’ve been for tributes on the other side of this island. But it doesn’t matter. I need to get away from any possible threat before it’s too late.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Suddenly I smash right into another tribute who was running the other way. We both fall to the ground. My knife skids across the forest floor. If this is the tribute responsible for those three cannons, then I’ll be dead before I can even get up.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I look up to see my potential attacker. But my eyes don’t connect with the menacing eyes of a killer. I look straight into bright blue eyes. They’re a pair of eyes I’ve seen many times before. They’re the eyes of Tessa Powers. My heart melts at the sight of her.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I don’t know what to say.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Tessa Powers, D11, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Falcon…?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">We both stand up, but our eyes fail to leave each other. We stand still for a few seconds, frozen in time and filled with a mixture of emotions. Love, fear, sadness, even anger course through my veins.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif""> “Tessa…” I expect him to turn and run. He hasn’t talked to me in months, and even a Hunger Games won’t change that now. But he doesn’t. The magnitude of the thought that we’re both so close to death, just by being in this arena together, hits us like a freight train.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Falcon, I’m so sorry,” I say. I’ve been waiting to say this since the day that jerk Eric threw himself at me and kissed me…and Falcon saw it all. I almost start to cry, but Falcon doesn’t let me.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">He throws his arms around me and kisses me for the first time in what feels like forever.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Ophid Carne, D14, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I sigh as I hear the third cannon, and Angelique carves a third line in a nearby tree. The worst part of these games is the anticipation and the fear that comes with it. I don’t know if those three tributes were killed by freak accidents or by some psycho killer tribute. All I know is that they’re gone.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’m glad about my alliance though. We work on a group system. At night, we take two-hour shifts guarding our small camp. It makes me okay with the fact that we’re sleeping on the ground, in an obvious spot, rather than in one of the trees.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Nighttime is already coming, which means the anthem and the identities of the three dead tributes. I hope they’re scary looking ones; I want those kind of people out of the way first.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I hope more than anything that my face never appears in the sky. I turn to Angelique and she smiles at me. But I know she’s thinking the same thing about herself. And no matter what, one of us is going to end up in the sky before the week is out.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Sparks Fly, D3, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I listen to the anthem in silence.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">First is the creepy girl from 9. Thank God! She’s gone! I can only wonder what took her out. After her is the girl from 10, the one I hit with the knife. Perfect. Hopefully, they were the creepiest tributes in here. If anyone else is that bad, I think I’m going to take myself out.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Then, for some reason, the boy from 8 appears next. It seems strange that they would play them out of order. I guess they’re just showing them based on when they died.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Up high in yet another tree, I decide to go to bed.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">All I can see is those two freaky girls, jumping out of trees and screaming at me. For once, my nightmares are even worse than my reality.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">End of Day Two

<p class="MsoNormal"> <h3 class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Day Three  Lucas Sunsong, D9, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The game makers saved my life. They’re the only reason my face wasn’t in the sky last night. I know that the force field wasn’t there when I ran into the careers. But it was there when that girl threw the knife.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">That means I’m lucky to be alive. But I still don’t understand why they did it. Why me? Maybe they thought it was unfair, five careers against one kid. Maybe they wanted to give me a second chance.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I don’t really care. I’m just happy to be alive.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Argus Dimonun, D12, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I wake up in my hiding spot, a bush by the lake.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Three tributes have already died in this arena, but two days have gone by. I’m hungry, tired, and honestly…I just want to go home. I never thought I would say this, but District 12 is so much better than the arena.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I make my way over to the lake for a quick drink, taking my knife with me. You can never be too sure when you’re in a Hunger Games. As I cup my hands and bend over towards the water, I hear a twig snap.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I turn around and look up just in time to see a rock falling from a tree. It strikes me on the head and I go down. Hard.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">BOOM!

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Marko Timber, D10, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">That’s just my luck.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I find another tribute in the arena and just when I’m about to ask for an alliance, a rock falls out of a tree and strikes him in the head. I look up to see if it was a tribute who took out the boy from 12. But no one is there. It was just a gamemaker trap.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Well, at least I can have a hiding spot by the water now. I only hope the gamemakers take the kid’s body pretty soon; it’s really freaking me out.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I hate this place.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Fuchsia Terranova, D0, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The sounds of cannons hardly even shock me anymore. They’re no more surprising than the chirping of the birds. Four have gone off now. For the third day in the arena, that’s hardly anything. These games are going to last forever.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I fill up my water bottle in the river, which I’m so grateful is nearby. I’d be dead if I didn’t have water. I’m sure a bunch of the other tributes are going to start dying of thirst pretty soon. At least I don’t have to worry about that.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Suddenly, the water level starts to rise. Not just a few inches, a few feet. Pretty soon, the forest floor has turned to mud, and the water keeps on rising. I feel like a wimp for running away from a little water, but you never know how far the gamemakers will go to drown a few tributes. I don’t want to be one of them.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Falcon Generate, D11, Beach

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Tessa and I quietly make our way out of the forest and onto the beach. I’m too happy to be with her to be sad about the fact that at least one of us is going to be dead within the next few days. There’s no time for worrying.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I hope Eric can see us from back home,” Tessa whispers to me. Last night, she explained to me how he forced her to kiss him. Of course I forgave her. It’s one thing to try to ignore someone when they’re nowhere near you. It’s another thing when you’re looking straight into their eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">We’ve been walking hand-in-hand—which is probably pretty stupid considering someone could easily sneak up on us—since we left the forest this morning. My other hand is gripping my knife. Walking along the beach with Tessa is surreal; there’s no place for this in District 11. We may be in a Hunger Games, but this is one of the best days of my life. I just hope it doesn’t end really badly.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I feel like we’ve walked the whole circumference of the island when we come upon an opening carved into a rock wall. I let go of Tessa’s hand. “I’ll go first,” I say.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The cave is surprisingly light and warm. There’s a great view of the ocean, and the cave is already stocked full of food, water…and weapons. Oh crud. This is someone else’s cave. Just as I turn around to run, I hear Tessa scream.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Lightning Tree, D0, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Olympia has decided that we should leave the forest and explore the factory, in hopes of finding new allies. I’m this close to ditching this alliance. I know Olympia has good intentions, but I think she underestimates the true killing power within these other tributes. No one is going to listen to her.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">But something keeps me with this group. I think it’s Sydnee. We’ve formed a real friendship over the past few days. She’s really nice, and I don’t think I can leave her here.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Do you really think this is a good idea?” I whisper to her. Olympia can’t hear us; she’s too busy talking with Chase and Reyna, and with gathering supplies.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Sydnee shakes her head. “I don’t know what to do. She sounded so convincing last night, but this idea is just madness. We’ve survived here, so we should stay here.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Do you think we should just leave her?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Sydnee looks down at the ground. She’s seriously considering it. “We should stay with her for now, see how this plan of hers plays out. But if anything happens, the two of us ditch her, okay?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“You got my back, and I’ve got yours,” I say, and the two of us smile.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Tessa Powers, D11, Beach

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The blond girl from 6 grabs me from behind, and I scream.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“I’m going to win these games!” she shrieks. She tosses me to the sand and stands over me with her knife. I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life. She raises her knife and prepares to strike, when my knight in shining armor arrives.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Falcon grabs the girl’s arm and her eyes widen in confusion. She must’ve thought I was alone. Falcon jabs his own knife through the girl’s back and she spits out blood. I scurry away as she falls to her knees in the sand. She goes down without a word.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">BOOM!

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Falcon is trembling more than me. “I thought I was going to lose you…” I jump up and give him a big hug. For a second, I thought he was going to lose me too.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">He leads me into the cave and we sit down. My heart is still beating faster than a jet. I keep myself from crying. No one cries in a Hunger Games. Falcon keeps his arms wrapped around me as the thought finally enters my mind:

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">What’s going to happen when one of us really does have to die?

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Toby Macklemore, D14, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Five tributes dead, and we haven’t killed any of them. We are the worst careers ever. The one kid we got the chance to kill was saved by some force field. It’s like the game makers are just making fun of us now.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Georgia and Avelina are the most pissed about it. Georgia has been yelling at us for the past day about how we’re a horrible excuse for a career pack. Avelina has been sharpening her knife and muttering to herself for hours. Sash really doesn’t seem to care that much, and Silvia hasn’t said a word about it…or about anything else.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’m beginning to get the idea that if we want to be better careers, maybe we should actually go tribute hunting instead of just sitting here! But I know if I say that, someone here will kill me on the spot. And they’ll make it hurt.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Suddenly, we hear the footsteps of another tribute. The five of us perk up and grab our weapons. We can only hope the gamemakers don’t save this tribute.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Ophid Carne, D14, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Angelique and I decided to leave the forest and head to the factory. After all, it’s heated here, there are more places to hide, and there are more resources around. Plus, the forest has flooded. Angelique may love water, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled about that.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">We try to be as quiet as possible as we walk around the factory. I know that two is better than one, but two small, weak tributes aren’t really much better than one small, weak tribute. Especially in an arena full of killers.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Suddenly, I hear a group of tributes running down the halls. I’m a few seconds away from freaking out when I realize that the sounds are coming from the first floor. Angelique and I watch over the balcony as five, strong-looking tributes with knives chase after some other kid on the first floor. I have a feeling we’re about to hear a sixth cannon.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Sydnee Wren, D13, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">My group of five walks through the front doors of the factory just in time to see five careers running at us. Only they’re not headed for us.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The boy from 7 has enough time to yell, “Help!” before a knife sinks into his back.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">A girl with black and red hair smiles. “No force field this time!”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I watch in pain as the boy from 7 falls to the ground, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">BOOM!

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Looks like our next victims have arrived!” A girl with blond hair yells. She tosses her own knife straight at me. I can’t even move. But as the shining weapon spins toward me, Lightning grabs me and we tumble to the ground. The knife simply bounces off the air and goes spinning back, sinking into the ground.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Are you kidding me?!” shrieks Avelina.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I don’t know why, but the gamemakers put a force field in our path.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Olympia takes this as a sign. “Wait one second!” she yells. “You need to listen to me if you want to live!”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“This seems like a good time to go,” whispers Lightning.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“No,” I say. “I want to hear this.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The blond girl from 8 has the same attitude. She crosses her arms and waits for Olympia to plead her case.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Katarin “KM” Lao, D3, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I can’t believe what I’m watching. The careers just killed a kid; that doesn’t surprise me. What surprises me is that the gamemakers just put a force field in the way of the other tributes. And now, the careers are going to listen to some girl plead for her life? I have to watch this.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I move from my catwalk on the third floor and head down to the first. I watch the tributes from the end of a hallway. I don’t want to get too close, just in case that force field disappears and the careers switch back into murder mode.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Chase Locke, D6, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The careers don’t move a muscle as they wait for Olympia to speak. I can’t believe it. I never pegged Olympia for someone who could stop killers in their path just with her voice. I guess the force field helped stop their rampage.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">A bunch of tributes begin to arrive. It’s no longer just the five of us and five careers crowded around the dead body of the boy from 7. Two small girls are watching us from the balcony above. One girl with black hair is staring us down from the end of the hallway. A kid with red hair—the boy from 4—jumps out of his hiding place and curiously makes his way towards us. Two kids, the boy from 13 and the girl from 1, were watching the scene from the doorway. They enter the factory and stand behind us. The black-haired boy from 9 peeks out from behind a machine far behind the careers. He tries to keep himself half-hidden.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I wait for someone to draw a knife and move in for a kill, but no one does.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">It surprises me that no one considers taking anyone else out; it seems like the perfect time for it. But that’s good for us, it gives Olympia the chance to plead her case. If she’s good enough with words to change the minds of everyone here, then maybe we can all survive these games.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Olympia Valles, D5, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">This is my chance to save my life, and the lives of everyone else in the arena.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The careers stare right at me, their weapons still at the ready. The boy from 1—Sash—moves forward, but he isn’t headed for me. He gets down and inspects the body of the boy from 7, looking for any weapons.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">A bunch of other tributes have arrived, and they wait for me to explain how I can help them all live. I can’t stall any longer.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“As we all know, these games were not organized and authorized by the government. Therefore, our government will be hunting down the very people who organized these games on charges of kidnapping and murder. If we can just lay low and refrain from hurting each other, the government will have time to arrive and rescue us all!” I wait for the gamemakers to strike me with lightning, but nothing happens.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">None of the careers seem too convinced, but the other tributes look intrigued. After all, they want any excuse possible to keep themselves from hurting each other.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“All we need is time!” Two of the careers—the girl from 2 and the boy from 14—raise their eyebrows. I’m on my way to convincing them to agree with us too. Even if they don’t, I’m not above taking them down. After all, it would be in the pursuit of keeping everyone else here alive.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Then, Sash throws a wrench in my plans. “You guys gotta see this,” he says as he pulls up the dead boy’s pant leg and points to the front of his ankle.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">It’s a glowing green tattoo of a 6.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Rebel Peacock, D13, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to meet that girl from 5. She’s promising rebellion! Where has she been all my life!

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">But apparently, that boy’s green tattoo is enough to distract everyone from Olympia’s plan. Avelina and Georgia get down for a closer look at the green 6.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Big deal, they probably just tattooed his district number on his ankle,” says Georgia.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Avelina shakes her head. “He’s from my district, District Seven, not Six.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">That’s when the realization hits us all at the same moment.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Reyna Alvarez, D12, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The sixth cannon had blasted for the boy with the tattoo of a six on his ankle. That can’t be a coincidence.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“They planned this…” I mutter. Everyone else seems to hear this, and no one argues. Now it makes sense why the force field was there. Sydnee wasn’t supposed to die next. None of the people in my group are.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Avelina lifts up the bottom of her own pants to see the number on her ankle. It’s a glowing green 27. She’s one of the last. The rest of the tributes seem to afraid to look at their numbers, including me.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Suddenly, the loudspeaker turns back on, and a gamemaker’s voice booms out through the arena.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Angelique Bluesong, D4, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Congratulations tributes!” the gamemaker yells. His enthusiasm makes me cringe. It’s easy for him to stay cheerful considering he’s not about to die.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“You’ve figured out the twist! Yes, the random numbers on your ankles do indeed predict the order in which you shall die. One through six have already fallen, meaning seven is next. But now, let me describe the new twist.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“These numbers are not set in stone. You may change your number in one way and one way only; by killing the tribute who is next in the order. If you are next, you may kill the tribute after you. By doing so, you will be moved to the end of the list. But under no circumstances can you kill out of order. There is more to this mystery, but we shall let you discover that for yourselves. Happy Hunger Games!”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The loudspeaker makes that buzzing noise, and the voice disappears. The room is silent for a second, and then the tributes go into an uproar.

<p class="MsoNormal">

Silvia Hake, D2, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Who is it?!” Georgia yells. “Who is next?!” The tributes cringe in fear, most too afraid to see who is next. I’ve checked my ankle, and I know it isn’t me.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Come on, come forward!” shrieks Avelina, it will only make it easier! We promise we’ll make it quick!”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Did anyone hear me?!” says Olympia, fighting for control over the situation. “We can’t go around killing each other!” I have to admit, I almost believed her for a second. But that was just me being stupid. I have to remember my plan to kill everyone in this arena.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“So it’s you then!” Georgia points an accusatory finger at Olympia. The rest of the group prepares for an all-out brawl. I grip my knife.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">“Guess again.” Olympia pulls up the bottom of her pant leg. She’s number 25. “You have to remember what I told you. The gamemakers are just trying to distract us! All we have to do is refrain from killing each other, and we can live.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Georgia ignores her. “Where are you?!” she screams. She looks ready to go on a complete rampage. I’ve never seen her this angry before. It almost scares me.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">That’s when I notice one of the tributes slowly inching along the wall, headed for the door…

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Sash Bloodhound, D1, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Everyone’s going crazy. Georgia and Olympia are screaming at each other. Avelina is looking around for her next victim. The rest of the tributes are staring at each other in fear. No one knows who's supposed to die next.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Suddenly, Silvia and Avelina freeze. Their eyes lock on one of the tributes who’s been slowly inching along the wall, trying to escape. My fellow careers want to take her down and bring themselves to the end of the list. I’ve checked my number; it’s 14. Unless I make a kill, I don’t have much time left.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I leap from my spot next to the dead boy and tackle the girl from 1 to the ground. Her dagger goes flying across the floor. She tries to squirm, but I hold her in place. The rest of the tributes stare at the scene, but no doubt they can see the number 7 tattooed on her ankle. She's next. I smile deviously before I slit her throat with my knife.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">BOOM!

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Olympia screams. The boy from 0, Lightning, moves to hit me with his spear. I grab it before he can strike. “I’m at the end of the order now, kid,” I say with a smile. “You can’t touch me.”

<p class="MsoNormal">

Hayden Light, D4, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’m next.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The boy from 1 just killed Astoria, number 7. And I’m number 8. Georgia continues to scream, demanding that the next tribute in line shows themselves. I can’t try to escape; they’ll see me. My only option now is to find the next in line.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I look around at the other tributes. Most of their numbers are covered up, but thankfully, I can see some of them. I just need one. I just need number nine!

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">For all I know, number nine could be somewhere else. Not all of the tributes are here. In that case, I would have to run as fast as I can to escape this place. But I saw that girl, Avelina, throw a knife. She’d hit me without even trying.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">That’s when I catch sight of my last chance to live. That’s when I notice the tribute with a tattoo of a nine…

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I jump forward and jab my dagger into the heart of the boy from 14. He’s a career. This will make me enemy number of one of that loud blond girl for sure. I watch in pain as the light fades from the boy’s eyes, and he slips out of my grasp…

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">BOOM!

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I stumble backwards in horror. What have I done?

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Lightning Tree, D0, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’ll be honest, I kind of respect the boy from 4 for killing that career. I’d rather have him alive than any of those killers. And now he’s at the end of the order instead of Avelina or Sash. The careers are so surprised that they take off down the hallway, vowing revenge.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Most of the other tributes stay put. One boy emerges from his hiding spot behind a machine. Two girls come running down from the second floor. The boy from 4, Hayden, slowly makes his way towards us. “Do you guys think we could form an alliance…?”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Olympia looks hesitant. She doesn’t exactly want to join forces with someone who just violated her own advice about not killing anyone. But maybe she realizes that he had no other choice, because she nods her head in acceptance. Then, we’re asked the same question by several other tributes.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Five minutes later, we have the biggest alliance in Hunger Games history. Olympia, Chase, Reyna, Hayden, Angelique, Ophid, Rebel, Lucas, Sydnee, and I; ten people. Maybe now, Olympia’s plan can work. With an alliance this large, we may never have to kill.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I certainly hope not. It won’t be too long until my number is next.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Katarin “KM” Lao, D3, Factory

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I pray the careers won’t find me now. It was one thing when I was watching them from the top floor of the factory, waiting for my moment to strike. It’s a totally different thing when I learn that we’re supposed to die in a certain order.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">My tattoo of the number 10 feels burnt into my skin, stinging my ankle. It’s a constant reminder that I’m the next in line.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">My only hope is that I can stay hidden until I can find number 11.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> Spider Tablo, D2, Lighthouse <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">The gamemakers announcement caught me completely off guard. I don’t know what happened to the other tributes to help them figure out this twist. All I know is that a bunch of people ran into the factory, and then three cannons went off.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">If the announcement is right, then numbers one through eight are gone. And that’s assuming that no one was killed out of order. There’s no way of knowing.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">My number is twenty-three. It’s a relief, considering I still have so much time until it’s my turn to die. But at the same time, I feel like the games have suddenly been wrenched from my control. No matter what, when number twenty-three arrives, I have to kill or be killed. Either that, or I need to find the next person in line and take them out, fast.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">From my spot in the lighthouse, I watch as a giant alliance of ten people returns to the forest. The flood there seems to have stopped. It was just a gamemaker plot to drive the tributes into the factory after all.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I start to wonder what else these games will have in store.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-size:14.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"TimesNewRoman","serif"">Aiden Clifton, D5, Forest

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I’m getting ready to climb a tree and fall asleep when another tribute sneaks up on me. It’s a small tan girl with blue hair. I hold my mace at my side, just in case she threatens me. But instead, she asks for an alliance. I might as well agree, it’s not like I have anything better to do.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">I don’t expect her to lead me into a clearing where nine other people are sitting. How big is this alliance? A girl with red hair smiles and introduces herself as Olympia. She explains what that gamemaker announcement was about earlier, and why I have a 15 tattooed on my ankle.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">Our group sits down on logs and we watch the anthem play. There are five faces, though they play in a weird order. First is the boy from 12, with the number 4 displayed next to his face. Then the girl from 6 with the number 5, the boy from 7 with the number 6, the girl from 1 with the number 7, and the boy from 14 with the number 9. Hayden, the redhead from 4, frowns as that face appears. Apparently he was number 8, and he killed that boy to survive.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">This means that there are only five more tributes until it’s my turn.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "TimesNewRoman","serif"">These games just got much more interesting.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">End of Day Three

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">END OF PART ONE