User blog:JERealize/21st Century All-Regional Pan-American 'Hunger Games' Tournament Spring 2011

(Disclaimer: I have discovered that the title is misleading, given that the Tributes will only come from the U.S., Canada, and Mexico. Central America and the Caribbean, as well as Greenland, Bermuda, and Saint Pierre and Miquelon will be added in the next Games, and South America will follow after that.)



That's right! I have modernized the mid-millenial Capitol style into a 380-way brawl! I have asked for two boys and two girls (regardless of age, since this is a blog) from 95 states/provinces/territories in the United States, Canada, and Mexico.

As JERealize:
Our family stood out in Main Street in our little city of Porterville, waiting for the verdict, crowded in by the tens of thousands forced to attend. We huddled together, both afraid of the hard times to come and shivering from the 5 o' clock-in-the-morning air. The mayor came upon his pedestal in front of the Chamber of Commerce, announcing that the Tributes shall be chosen as is, and will not at all receive volunteers.

That meant, whoever is chosen will not be spared.

That's when the 12-foot screen, although not your ordinary television screen, showed the Governor, Jerry Brown, waltz over to the two giant reaping balls, this time in the form of bingo ball shufflers or whatever. Of course, the ladies were chosen first (a trend set a while ago), and came up with InsertRandomnessHere and Elviaalova. As it turns out, they had done something so exciting that it practically kick-started the Games.

After that, the next two selections shocked me completely.

The Governor shuffled the male selections around, and picked up a simple ping-pong ball. These aren't your ordinary ping-pong balls, however. Each one had the name and residing city of each and every person in California, all 37,000,000+ of them. He read the name and city of the first male Tribute.

He read... JERealize of Porterville.

Instantly, I was breathless to the point of fainting. Officials weaved through the web of people to get me, and I complied, willingly, to go to the stand where the mayor stood. As I marched through the crowds, my family, my father and mother, my two brothers, and two baby sisters, felt full-on despair, despair directed to my abscence. That didn't matter to anyone else, though. Everyone else cheered, mainly because they have a hometown sweetheart to look to in the Games. Then, the Governor drew the second male Californian on the list, and this is what happened:

Normally, the chance of Tributes from the same city (especially a city with a residence of 51,000) would get only one Tribute, if any, as the chance of sending two Tributes was rarer than the chance of me being a Tribute, which was, ironically, fulfilled. This new task, ironically, also got fulfilled.

Translation: Porterville received a new Tribute, by the name of FableWarrior. Everyone instantly felt shock, as Porterville had to send two tributes, and I was especially shocked that it had to be my best friend. You see, FableWarrior (aka River Kelty) were schoolmates, and he was in a higher grade than I was. He looked to be more athletic, too, with medium-long brown hair, a short brown beard, and a camoflage jacket. Even my brothers claim to be more athletic than I am, so I don't stand a chance with people like him around.

He greeted me with a brief, "The Game".

It took me a split-second to realize that I have lost The Game. It will also take me a while longer to realize that I will lose this game, too.

After greetings with the mayor, we were both escorted into a taxi car as we announced our last farewells with the people of Porterville, knowing that there is no return.

Two minutes later, the taxi sped off for Fresno, Once it reaches Fresno, we would ride on a plane to our final destination.

As Typingwestern015:
Yes, sir, I have done it now. I had to rig the ballot box and include my friends on this phenomenon.

You see, we (my friends and I) broke into Governor's Island the night before the Games and filled the Reaping Balls with our model balls while removing the previous selections. Our 'cheat balls', as it were, look like the normal kind, but can instantly change their form, thus we can remote-control the balls to pick us 4 every time.

This morning, we had started by getting Sidi Eltel and Nelle Elteriz into the Tournament, and then we were caught in the act. One NYPD officer saw our remote control and interrogated us on it.

"What do you call that?" he asked menacingly.

"Just playing with a helicopter. You know, those toys are popular these days," I responded innocently.

"Where is this 'toy' now?" he asked.

"I think it fell in the water," I answered, hoping he would buy the story.

Turns out, he knew something was up. He and some other officers looked through a 150-foot radius to find it, none of the area even touching water. He came back to me with a scowl. Yes, sir, we had a problem.

Suprisingly, even though he knew that we were rigging the Reaping Balls, he kept the two female Tributes in the Tournament, and 'punished' us by automatically entering Drent Helton and I into the tournament, which turned out to be a relief for us, although we worked hard not to show it. All four of us were in the Games, but the reason was not immediate.

In truth, my friends ran rival gang squads, and I was the victim of all three. Their gangs sought the Milwaukee Purple Heart, a 280-karat ruby-sapphire hybrid, which I bought for $6,700. In order to preserve it for a future 'financial emergency', I locked it in a time capsule and hid in the entrance of the Battery Tunnel. All three of them caught me in the act of hiding it, but I decided to compete against them by convincing them to enter the Tournament alongside me, eventually beating each other up near the end. So, we forged a partnership and entered ourselves into the Games, and now we've succeeded.

My next task: Prepare for the plane flight to our destination.

As Elivaalova:
My real name is Ireland Hammer, and this is NOT what I planned to do today.

I'm in a plane with InsertRandomnessHere to who-knows-where to compete in a fight to the death when I could be celebrating with everyone back home. To say that this is the lousiest day of my life is an excrutiating understatement.

An hour ago, the Reaping began in California, and I was in the city park when it started. I gazed at the giant screen, where the governor came up to the giant bingo ball rollers and spun them a few times. After that, he drew a bingo ball from the girls' reaping ball, looked at the name imprinted on it (or squinted, since he is in his seventies) and made his announcement.

He announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, the first female tribute to enter the Tournament as a representative of California is... InsertRandomnessHere!"

I saw some tennage girl with blond hair reach the stage, and I'm guessing by her nickname that she's part of the 'Nickname Movement' like I am (NckMve is the nickname for it), and she stuck her hands in the air as the mayor announced her once she got on the stage.

We viewed the screen once again as the governor picked out the next inductee.

He proclaimed, "Our second female tribute from California is... Elivaalova!"

Now, I had to get up on the stage, but first, I said goodbye to my family, and then I joined InsertRandomnessHere. That's when the biggest prank ever pulled in the Reaping came to be.

Apparently, a boy older than InsertRandomnessHere came up toward the stage, yelling to the stage for him to volunteer. Honestly, with his tears and red cheeks, it was easy to fall for it.

The mayor asked, "Really? Is this what you want?"

He took small steps toward InsertRandomnessHere (this is when I realized that he was her older brother) and whispered, "InsertRandomness..." After that, he did the cruelest thing I have ever witnessed.

He raised his voice to say, "Yeah, right! Fooled ya!"

Almost half of the audience exploded with laughter as InsertRandomnessHere shed a tear, pained that her brother won't join the Tournament. But the rest of the audience, including me, felt pity for her because of her sudden sorrow over her brother betraying her, even though volunteers were not allowed anyways. After that moment, I swore I would protect her from any assaults, physical or emotional.

I stood up to her brother and slapped him in the face.

As he felt the recoil of his assault against her sister, most of the crowd applauded me and even cheered me on, even those who cheered for fun, and especially those disgusted by him. As he was eyeing to punch me, the governor on the screen announced in a booming voice, "That's enough!"

That immediately stopped the show.

He said, "Someone, please escort these Tributes to a safe place before someone gets injured." Two police officers sent me and InsertRandomness to a van to stay in until they had announced the rest of the Tributes. I didn't know who was selected as the male Tributes, but all I know is, they weren't from our city.

Thus, we return to the moment where we are now: a plane heading to the unknown, with a new ally for the Games heading with me. In fact, she had just asked,"Does this mean we're friends?"

I answered with the answer obvious to me, "Yes, we are."

And we held hands for the next 5 minutes. I thought, even though they didn't last longer, those brief moments of contact will last forever.

As Katniss Everdeen:
I woke up on some sort of red-colored reclining chair with a surging pain in the back of my neck. At first, trying to make out what was in front of me was hard since my eyes were adjusting to the high level of light, compared to the darkness of before, but it faded away in a matter of seconds. I managed to make out a room about the size of my home before the Games, with one of the walls composed entirely of glass, welcoming us to the view on the other side. I stepped off my recliner and stepped toward the glass panel that was the fourth wall.

I was in shock. It couldn't be...

But it was.

I saw an enhanced replica of the Capitol. This time, it had more skyscrapers breaking the 1,000 foot mark, elevated high-speed rail syatems, and people gathering throughout the streets, in markets, in food booths, in plazas. After that, I finally caught my eyes on a flagpole taller than everything else, waving a flag bearing the Capitol's seal.

Honestly, I panicked, and under my panic, I turned away from the window and saw three more recliners other than mine. One of them held Peeta Mellark, my husband, but he didn't look like Peeta Mellark, my husband.

He looked more like Peeta Mellark, victim of the Hunger Games.

He actually looked the same as he did when we both were reaped in our first Games. Even his leg had changed, as it was an artificial leg after the first Games. On the second chair was Gale Hawthorne, who looked like his eighteen year-old self, before I ended up in the Games. Our recliners were arranged in a half-circle against the glass wall, mimicking the sunset, and in the middle, just a foot away from the glass wall, where I found a hand mirror, held it next to my face, and tested my ever-more supportive theory. My theory was exactly right, from the scars from extensive hunting before the Games, to my left ear, no longer artificially melded to my head.

I looked exactly how I was before the Games changed me.

Immensely terrified by my transformation, I unknowingly let the mirror slip from my hands, and all I heard was the smack of the plastic outline of the mirror against the carpet, and then a crack of the glass. Not a shatter. Just a crack.

That's when I realized, there was one other recliner, and it did have someone lying on it. However, since some sort of blanket was covering the person whole, I pulled it off, and was left flabbergasted by what lay under the blanket.

I saw the form of Madge Undersee. She wasn't dead, though, and that's what shocked me. She was still breathing, still in deep sleep, when she should have been singed to ashes by the bombings. How did this happen? How could it?

"How could it?" I repeated, this time in a whisper.

I backed myself up, step by step, until I realized that I was standing against the wall. I turned a bit and huddled into a corner. I wept with pure sorrow, encased in a living nightmare that was going to consume me whole.

* * *

Five minutes later, I've heard movement, thus breaking the silence cloaking the room. It was more like a scuffling, the kind received when walking on carpet. I hurried to the broken hand mirror, held it over my head, and launched it at the door just as it opened.

It was a woman at around thirty-five, with short black hair and blue-gray eyes. She was wearing a black blouse with gray trousers (is that the word?), and had earrings with some sort of writing on both of them. But the most striking feature so far was gray lines on her face and arms, almost looking like they were painted on. They might indicate the locations of certain blood vessels, but I wasn't sure, since the lines twist in small 90 degree turns.

My mirror was about to make a direct hit, when it rebounded on an invisible object just in front of her, and flew through a square hole in the window. I realized it was an opening when the hole closed shut again.

She responded with a smirk on her face, "Well, that's no way to greet the Head of State."

I responded with a hushed anger. "What do you want with us, and why--?"

She effectively interrupted, "You'll find out before it all begins. But first, do me a favor and wake all of your friends up first..."

I stepped over to Peeta and lightly shook his shoulder with my hand, and he burst up. "What was that?"

"Peeta, wake up," I told him. "Something's not right..."

"Wait a moment..." He observed me carefully, then hesitated for another moment.

Then he attacked me.

He started by throwing me to the floor and pinning me against it. Then, he kept slapping me face repeatedly, while asking, "What have you done with Katniss, you mutt?!"

It became a bit blurry after getting assaulted for almost a minute, but I think Gale stepped in, because I heard him say, "How dare you!"

He grabbed hold onto Peeta and began to choke him, but Peeta kicked Gale in the knee and used the time to throw him out the window. However, the glass didn't break my the full force of a tossed Gale, so he crashed into the glass, newly splattered blood appearing from his nose.

"Stop it, both of you!" I shouted above all noise, hoping that it would be heard and eventually understood. However, they didn't hear me, even though I heard my own voice when I said it.

Gale recovered from that sudden trauma and began to tackle into Peeta, while Peeta planned the same for Gale, when a ripple appeared between them, split into two, and shot at both of them, thus throwing them into the walls on either side of the room. I stood there, breathless at how they were both deceived, when the lady told me from behind, "It's good that they're tough fighters, however tragic this little mishap has become."

While I heard Gale's and Peeta's agitated moans in the background, she went over to the fourth recliner and lay her hand on the chair. The chair itself started to vibrate, thus waking Madge up, initiating her revival after over twenty years of dormancy.

After she woke up, she looked all over the room, and asked the lady a very cliche question: "Where am I?"

"Shh...: she whispered. "You've just woke up."

Madge looked around, but didn't look directly at me, Gale, or Peeta. "Why am I not in the Mayor's house?" she asked quizically and curiously.

The lady responded, "I had to rescue you from the blazing ash cloud that enveloped the town when the Stratford Volcano erupted." She paused for dramatic effect. "Thousands died... including..." She turned her voice down to prepare. "Your father."

Madge gasped. "No, no, it can't be!" she cried. "No! My father can't be dead! He need to govern District 12, and without him..."

"We're doing everything we can to help you," the lady assured Madge. "Nothing is absolute. So far, he's only pronounced missing, so we may still find him."

Madge stretched out her arms in anticipation of comfort, and the lady met her anticipation, as if she was a lost friend. I wanted to join in, too, but I couldn't penetrate the invisible wall between me and the two.

That's when I realized it was a trap.

I kept hitting the wall, slamming, punching, kicking, but it kept pushing me back. I tried to scream, "Madge, run!", but she didn't catch that. The wall must have been soundproof.

As I kept pounding to get her attention, Madge asked: "What about Katniss and Peeta? Did they escape? Are they still in the Games?"

She responded sadly, "No. The ash cloud trapped them in the Justice Building. We presumed that they have died."

Madge started sobbing harder, and hugged the lady harder, as if she was her only lifeline. The only thing is, the woman had fed her lies, and I needed to stop her. I looked toward the table, and I found another mirror on the table (which is strange, since I indirectly tossed the last one out) and whizzed it at the lady. Sure enough, it bounced off the invisible wall and through the door which threw the last one out the window. While I tried desperately to get their attention, the conversation continued. Madge started first:

"Who will take their places?"

Well, you were reaped as a substitute yesterday, so you had to come here." Madge sobbed as the lady calmed her down. "Come on. Let me show you to your room."

They got up and were about to step out of the room, when the lady said, "Go ahead. A servant at the elevator nearby will show you to your floor. I'll only be a minute."

<p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Madge left for the elevator, but the lady turned around and met me. "Hello, Katniss. To think we finally meet in person."

<p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">I responded with rage, "What kind of nonsensical lies did you feed her?"

<p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">"Settle down. It will all unfold soon enough." she answered vaguely. "As for myself, I am widely known as Yesare Dernes, the Governor of the State of Heldston and current Head of State of the Refined Union of Empartia."

<h3 style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">As Gale Hawthorne I hardly knew what the heck happened after the mysterious ripple wiped me out. However, I regained total consciousness when I saw Katniss and a lady dressed in dark colors standing next to the table marking the center point of the half circle the four seats formed. However, Katniss looked like her younger self... over 20 years ago, when she first entered the Games... What is this trick?

Then I found the likely candidate for answer on the other side of the room: 16 year-old Peeta, probably a mutt programmed to take me down as well as destroying the young Katniss. He must have been knocked out cold, too, because he was lying against the wall, blood dripping from the marks on his skin that I supposed I had made. He, too, was regaining consciousness. In fact, as I was struggling to stand, he was too, as if I was his sworn enemy, and his mine.

We did the same thing. Against all odds, we got up and charged toward each other, never minding our condition. However, we were only inches away from each other when a giant force repelled us from each other, no matter how close we were willing to get.

The mysterious woman responded, "Now, I thought you learned your lesson last time." With a snap of her fingers, we were both weakened enough to fall to our knees, unable to muster the strength to attack. I was only able to reply weakly, "What do you have to do with anything?"

"I'm Yesare Dernes, Head of State, and I want you two ready for the biggest test yet to come."

That's it. I knew my true enemy. Yesare probably messed with us by bringing me here among younger versions of ourselves. However, I couldn't respond to her threat, because I couldn't get on my feet.

She kept going, "By the way, allow me to show you what you have become." She seemed to push her left thumb into the palm of her right hand, and the window next to me became a mirror, reflecting the entire room. That's when I saw myself, unlike myself in my thirties, but more like myself in my teens. The entire horror of seeing myself before the life-changing Hunger Games could have made me scream in response, but I was so fragile that I simply fell to the ground, moaning on the way down.

She continued, "You three have been reverted to your prime versions of yourselves, so we can help make this tournament one to remember for the generations to come."

Young Katniss responded, "Why did you have to put us in danger just for a tournament?"

"Well, you don't understand anything, except for the 'danger' part," she replied. "Let's start with the beginning." She grabbed a wine glass (which I didn't see earlier) from the table, and press her hand on top of the glass, pulling it back to reveal a silvery fluid. She took a sip from it, then went on. "As it turned out, Alma Coin was my godmother, and I stayed on her side, even during the rebellion--"

By this time, I was back on my knees, ready to rehabilitate myself, when I saw Katniss about to strike her with her fist. She would have succeeded, too, if it wasn't for her arm's desintegration upon contact. She pulled it back, horrified and with a loss for woods, until the full restoration of her arm cured some if it. She moved her hands toward her again, realizing that the tips of her fingers were repelled from Yesare, causing it to lose its form. Defeated, she pulled it back, and stood sppechless and motionless.

She kept talking as if it didn't happen. "I stayed on my godmother's side during the rebellion, even when I heard about the death of your sister. I thought, it wasn't possible that my godmother ordered those attacks. In fact, I set up my own secret society dedicated to honor her memory.

"However, you could interfere with the entire process, even when I had built a multiversal portal to move our society through. You see, we didn't want you to interfere with the proposed idea of a Hunger Games memorial tournament happening all over 21st Century North America. We didn't want you to 'save' everybody from an honorable sacrifice. We didn't even want you to be locked up in a cage, forced to wait it out. That's when we had decided to take you with us.

"As for all three of you being in your teenage forms, we had to make sure that you even had a chance to put up a good fight. That way, the audience would be rightly entertained and their pain for losing their friends and family members dulled. After escorting you from the village using a colorless, odorless gas that extends the effects of sleep, we had you undergo some massive surgical techniques to revert you to what you look like now. Only I keep the secret to turn you back, which I will give to you ONLY if any of you win."

After a slight pause of expectation for a wider explanation, Katniss asked, "What about Madge?"

"Good question," she answered. "When we recreated the Games, we wanted not only a formidable opponent and someone who had a lesser chance of allying with you three, but also someone who could be my heir when I can't keep up my duties. Because of those requirements, I had to cross Primrose from the list. However, I looked through the city's footage, and I saw my answer within those tapes. What I saw was your meeting with Madge Undersee just before your first round of Games."

I still remember that very same conversation, her in her white dress, saying to me, "Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, do I?"

Why did she even say that?

While I thought about that, she kept going. "We used the multiversal portal to get a hair sample while the house was empty. That way, we could have a way to compare it with the ashes we've collected a day after the bombings, just as you left. Using the samples found in the ashes, as well as the hair samples, we were able to perfect and recreate Madge Undersee down to the details, with one exception." She turned to Katniss as if she knew the answer. And she did.

"Her memory," Katniss answered.

Yesare continued her explanation. "We had to erase every memory past the day you and Peeta were first selected for the games, then inform them that you two, as well as Gale, died in the ashes of the Stratford eruption. We didn't want her to know that you three were in the Games alongside her."

That's when she said innocently: "It would break her innocent little heart."

That line will spook me for days to come.

"In order to assure that, I made sure she had a special dose of eye drops that remove visibility of your makeup, DNA or anything clinging to it, as well as reprogram her ears to deafen any sound made by your voices or anything resembling them. Until the tournament begins, that means she will never know you're alive, much less here. Plus, I'll be taking custody of her until the Games start, so don't worry about that problem."

I must have been on my feet, because I charged at her, knowing that she was the enemy, while everyone else in this room was a victim. However, I realized too late about the consequences of this action when I saw myself desintegrating and flowing past her, feeling an electric surge breaking first my hands, then my arms, then my head, apart.

In fact, for the next few seconds, my mind went completely blank.

<p style="text-align: center;">* * *

I regained consciousness lying on the floor just outside the half-circle, hearing Yesare say, "Why, you don't learn the first time, don't you?"

She offered me a hand, but I refused, and tried to get up myself. Just when I was almost at my feet, I buckled over, and a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

It was Peeta. He was no longer my enemy. "I'm not letting you down that easily," he assured.

"As for the 'freak occurences'," Yesare added, "they were my own invention, to keep everything in the best possible scenario. Now, I have to leave, so make yourself at home. Most of you know what to do. I will come back tomorrow."

"Wait, what are you--" Peeta started.

It was too late. The door locked shut.

Luckily, Katniss and Peeta already ordered for lunch, and it was delivered to our room a minute later. We ate together in silence, hoping that we can recover enough to talk later.

As Tride Trisconos
I looked through the Tribute selections on the plane's television set.

I saw the two Tributes from California stand up against a meddling sibling. Mockingjay5 from Colorado had already packed up some supplies for the trip when she was chosen. Rue and Thresh (where did I hear them before?) were welcoming themselves into the Games. Ikali Velun was selected as one of the female Hawaiian Tributes, although he/she didn't have characteristics of either males or females. Utiah from Idaho, oddly enough wearing boots made completely of steel, rushed onto the stage as if on barefoot. RueRose and Jesus Chavez had the entire state cheering for them. Fauve Allsworth planned to bring some survival books along with her as tokens. Typingwestern015 was forced to compete in the Games himself as punishment for rigging the Reaping Balls. Franco Toledo from Wisconsin called Jesus Chavez out. The only weird thing about the U.S. Reapings is that West Virginia didn't send their Tributes, but already have 4 in mind.

Canada had some impressive starts, too. Stronton Melich was on a revenge mission against Resen Havar and Dural Celan. Seder Torrance from Newfoundland and Labrador and Regel Torrance from the Yukon hate each other. Nomin Dregg (Dregg isn't his true last name) planned to kill Lelt Dregg before anyone else kills either of them. Kelia Wann from Quebec plans to dispose of Nomin for betraying his family, running away, and changing his name for a selfish purpose. Kentom and Eviane Grentom, as well as Helice and Denectre Neneme, were along the New Brunswick/Nova Scotia border, so one of each family was reaped for NB and the other was reaped for NS. However, Mexico has one of the most impressive rosters by far, with each of them doing something remarkable. For example, four Espinozas have been entered from four different states. All four of them want to beat out the other Espinozas in their own rivalry.

I have had my moments, too. Jedwas Fintrel, one of the geatest personalities in our school, was chosen alongside me and the other two tributes. I've decided to ally with him the moment he came on stage.

When he came toward the stage, the entire school felt tragedy for losing him, then, for some unknown reason, started playing the blame game. When Jedwas finally came on stage, the entire crowd rioted among itself, pelting rocks and other miscellaneous things against each other's skin.

I asked through the microphone, "May I get your attention for a moment?"

They quarreled with each other so much that they didn't hear me. I asked a Peacekeeper, "Fire off an air bullet, would you?" He shot one bullet into the air with his hand pistol. Everyone turned silent.

I announced, "My fellow classmates and friends, I would like to announce before the public that I ask Jedwas Fintrel to be my ally for the tournament." Jedwas turned toward me.

Jedwas took a few seconds to muster the words to respond, mainly because the applauding audience gave him that time.

"Okay," he finally said to me. "Okay, I've heard you. The only problem is, if I choose to accept, there might be a conflict of interest since many would want me to be their ally."

The crowd oohs, and I gave him a stern look.

"Hey, calm down. I'll still consider you," he assured me. "You are closer to me than most allies, so you have a good chance."

That's when the other girl tribute came closer to the action. She was Marlony Darde, current president of the Modern Society club, which was basically a club for popular students. She had black hair with gray eyes, a modest 5' 5" stature, wore a gray and white T-shirt saying, "Respect. The difference between me and you," and an armband she likes to pull up to her upper arm whenever she gets tough.

She told Jedwas, "Why are you making a deal with someone who doesn't even know how to properly lift a backpack?"

The crowd roared with laughter, and I responded to her with, "Well, black on gray shows how clueless you are at being one to judge." The crowd responded with another wave of laughter and even an occasional "Oh, no she didn't".

That's when she pulled up her armband and say, "That's what your thick head says, but your look says you're not willing to back it up."

That's it. It was go-time. She had her armband arm primed for a pounding as I charged with my two fists, willing to pound her into beef wellington. However, Jedwas managed to constrain us both, and he announced, "I said, I'll make my decision later, maybe when these girls learn to clench their fists at a better time."

That's when he let go of us, and then he left the stand. The fourth tribute, Onden Sazen, came up trying to pry the spotlight out of our hands by telling the story of how he used lightning to power his laptop, but the crowd booed him offstage after the first 15 seconds.

To recap: Jedwas is to decide his allies, Marlony and I are in a cold war, and there's no hope for Onden whatsoever.

<p style="text-align: center;">* * *

While I was on the plane heading to our destination, I left my cabin and headed toward Jedwas' cabin, and that's when I overheard him on the phone and decided to eavesdrop.

"Hello, is this Jesus Chavez?"... "Yes, I'd like to ask if you were available to be my ally."... "Well, I'm one of the Delaware tributes, and I don't think all of the others will hold out for long."... "Well, I am an avid outdoorsman whenever I'm not studying for a big test. I know plenty of advantages needed to take control of the environment, and..."... "I think I have a video of my talent somewhere on the Internet. You can search for 'Jedwas Fintrel: Gone For A Week'. It displays the basics of what I..."... "Okay, let's take a deal. If both of us score at least a 9 in the private sessions, we'll be allies. Okay with you?"... "Okay, so until then. Bye."

He kept going like that to other suspected Careers like Stronton Melich, Mockingjay5, Alexis and Eduardo Espinoza, RueRose, and even FableWarrior (a boy tribute from California). Whatever he was planning, it wasn't going to include me.

After that moment, I yearned for revenge.

Just then, the intercom stated that all tributes had to go to the dining sector of the plane, so I hid from Jedwas' sight when he came out of his room. When he came out, I turned on the water faucet, took his pillow from his bed, and dunked it in the sink.

I returned the heavily soaked pillow onto the bed, knowing that what I did means war.

I left the room, my duty for today complete, when I had arrived in the hallway and tripped on Marlony's foot.

"What were you thinking?" I told her once I got back up on my feet.

She replied, "If Jedwas needs me, then you need to be out of the equation."

"Well, you won't be in this equation, either," I told her. "Apparently, he decides to choose people like Jesus Chavez and Stronton Melich over us."

At first, she responded with, "I don't believe you", but when we were dining with the other Delaware tributes, and Jedwas asked Marlony to pass over the plate of mashed potatoes, Marlony practically threw it in his face. "She answered with an "I'm sorry. It slipped", but I knew at least who was on my side.

<p style="text-align: center;">End of Act 1

As Kelia Wann
After receiving Tribute status and flying all the way from Quebec with three pathetic excuses for tributes (if anyone heard this, they'll poke my eyes out; wait, is that Anon... ... uh-oh "Ouch! What are you doing here? This is my narrative; get out!" ...okay, moving on). As I was saying, I had finally arrived at the giant army base of a tournament center, contained within an even larger city center. (I mean a huge tournament center, as I had landed in its own international airport.) After I stepped out, I was greeted by our province's mentor, Quebec Mentor (no joke, this is her real name; turns out that the tournament gathered a group of people together to form the Mentor family, and 95 offspring were produced and named after each state, province, and territory involved in the tournament), and all four of us tributes were sent to the Remake Center.

After hour after excrutiating hour of watching an oddly-dressed prep team cleanse me in different ways, the head stylist of the Quebec prep team came in, and like the other Tournament Residents (the official term for people such as Quebec Mentor) he had a Tournament-authorized name, Quebec F. A. Stylist (The F.A. is for "Female A", as in the first female of the state chosen for the tournament), and he led me into his office to talk.

"So, you're Kelia Wann," he began. "I've been researching your biography for a while."

"Wait, my biography?" I interrupted, surprised by the sheer fact that I even had one in written form.

"Yes," he answered. "You must have not known that biographies are written about Tributes after they are chosen. I should buy you one."

"No," I told him.

"I insist," he responded.

"No, I can't," I countered.

"Sorry, but I believe you have no say in this," he informed. "Look, I've already bought the book. Here, it's yours, like it or not." He gave me a book with my portrait on the front, the flag of West Virginia in the background, and the title: "Kelia Wann: West Virginia Tribute, Spring 2011".

"That's just the pre-Tournament edition," he warned. "That same book will be updated after the Tournament is over, or after you die, whichever comes first." I looked up from the book.

"As for tomorrow, you have the introductory parade to take part of," he continued. "It's mandatory for all Tributes. You and the other Tributes will have to ride through the city to the City Center and back, wearing the stylist's outfit of choice representing their state and background."

"What have you decided for me?" I asked.

"I have something in mind," he started, "but you have to wait until tomorrow morning to find out. Until then, you can stay in your room already designated in the Quebec section of the complex."

"Okay," I stated.

Quebec Stylist pointed me to the guards, each within 6 feet in height, each wearing blue and white uniforms, each with a handgun lapped on their belt. "Until you know these parts, these guards will escort you from place to place," he informed me. "These two will be your lifeline to the complex. They will inform you about where to go and what you have to do. Until later, Kelia." I stepped back, expecting him to let me go. "Officials, please show her to her room."

The officials were about to send me to my room, when Quebec Stylist added, "By the way, Kelia, don't forget about Skype."

I didn't understand what he meant, but I couldn't ask, because the officials already sent me down the hallway toward the lounge in front of my room.

As Nomin Dregg
After all the repetitive "readjusting" the Remake Center stylists did to me, the officials showed me the way to the Newfoundland and Labrador section of the complex, and I took a tour of the lounge first.

It reminded me of a hotel suite, but somewhat different. It had a table at the center of the circular room, with four two-seat couches and four single-seat recliners facing the table, with the pattern going one recliner, one couch, one recliner, one couch, and repeat. Outwards were four consoles where it's supposed that people can order things to their rooms and receive them in less than a minute. Across from the entrance lay four doors, each with a nametag alongside them, representing the Tributes assigned to them. I opened the door marked with 'Nomin Dregg' and went inside.

It was a pretty large room, with a full-size bed, a table set, another console, a walk-in closet with pre-assigned clothes in it, a window opening up to the city (or at least the tournament complex) and a closed Dell laptop computer with a note attached to it.

The opening title for the note was, "How to open Skype".

I moved the note aside and turned on the laptop, entered my name in the login window, and was asked to set up a password. After setting the password up, I got through the setup instructions in under a minute. The computer ran on Windows 7 Ultimate, and apparently a screen somehow popped up saying that it had 8 GB of RAM, a 1TB hard drive, and a 64-bit CPU, which almost seems like this complex is pampering us.

However, once I crossed that thought, another window popped up saying, "The Tournament is now tracking your computer's location". It looks like I may find it even if I lose it. As for the note, I've picked it up and read it. I've used Skype before, but I was never given unlimited access before. Once I've accessed it, I've seen that someone had left a message saying to call her. I had decided to respond by giving her a call.

As Anon...:
"Well, I had no idea that the tournament would start out with such a welcome, but--" I started with while talking to Kelia Wann, my fellow Tribute, over Skype, with webcams broadcasting not only our voices, but our physical actions as well. However, a sound tone on Skype interrupted me for a moment.

"Do you mind if I make this a three-way with this guy?" Kelia asked. I nodded. Skype added an extra screen displaying Nomin Dregg, a Newfoundland Tribute.

That's when Kelia started yelling at the guy.

"WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE TRYING TO DO WITH YOUR BETRAYAL TO YOUR OWN FAMILY AND DECIDING TO KEEP YOURSELF CLOSE TO YOUR FRIEND AND CHANGING YOUR LAST NAME AND defending him from any potential attacks and killing me before we start the Games and... and...?!?!" That pretty much ended her endless rant.

Nomin countered, "You decided to keep me from meeting my friend again, so your antics practically pushed me out of the house!"

"Well, you can't stand an hour without chatting with him. In fact, you don't even sleep anymore!"

"I can't sleep knowing that you're already tossing our friendship down the garbage chute!"

And through all that, I kept laughing my head off. In fact, the shout-off stopped when they noticed that I was laughing uncontrollably.

"Please, hang up," Kelia commanded, aggrivated.

"Yeah, you're getting into our conversation," Nomin agreed.

"Okay, I'll log off," I announced defeatedly. I ended the call between them and let them have their important conversation. As for me, I've decided to contact someone else, preferrably someone to ally with.

I whispered into the microphone. "Send me a random caller."

A second later, someone picked up on the other end. "Hello? Who is this?"

I responded, "This is Anon..., and who are you calling as?"

I heard the person respond, "This is Lelt Dregg."

"Okay, Lelt. Let's start with a few things," I started. "First, are you aware that Nomin, your so called friend, is out to kill you in the tournament?"

"Yes," Lelt replied. "I can't stand that thought. He says it's for my own good, but I can't live with that."

"I think I can help you," I suggested. "Kelia Wann wants to get rid of him. If you form a secret pact with her, she'll help you through this."

"I guessed," he shrugged. "However, just because we have a common goal, that doesn't mean she will ally with me."

"Who knows?" I told him. "If she knows how good you are in this Tournament, she might have you as a partner."

It took him a while for him to give me a response. "Well, I can try. I'll see you later. I have to contact her."

"Okay, Bye."

"Goodbye."

We hung up.

Well, what's left for me to do than sign off, tuck myself in the bed, and go to sleep?

As RueRose
"Okay, see ya, Stronton," I told him to prompt an end to our conversation.

"Okay, bye." he gave me.

We hung up.

I had just got out of a conversation with Stronton Melich from the Northwest Territories. In fact, not only did I talk with him, I wrote down a few facts about him. However, I had decided to order his biography before I read his 'fact sheet'.

46 seconds after I ordered the biography (wow, that was fast), an Avox showed up at my doorstep with the biography. I've picked it up and sent the Avox on their way.

Once I had returned to my room, I opened the biography right away and added the notes alongside it. I've read the introduction first:

"As required in the Tournament, each Tribute is required to have a biography published after them, the first edition published once they are reaped, the second edition published on the time of their victory or death. Each edition is required to contain the history of the Tribute's life from their birth throughout their years in their life, leading up to and including the Tournament."

Yeah, I had just realized how boring this was getting to be, and as a result, I skipped the rest. So, I began on Chapter 1 and went from there.

<p style="text-align: center;">* * *

Okay, so I only got to Chapter 8, but this is what really captures my attention:

On September 28, 2009, he competed in the Whitehorse-Yellowknife Skiing Grand Prix, a race across 700 miles (or over 1,120 kilometers) of Canada's harsh terrain from two relatively isolated northern Canadian cities. However, because of an avalanche caused by a cheating Dural Celan from North Dakota (who happens to be a Tribute in these games), he fell out of the tournament in mile 692, and Resen Havar from Montana (she is also a Tribute) won the race. And, even though he got even by winning that same race one year later, he still won't let it go. In fact, he plans to ally with the Careers to take both Resen and Dural out of the Tournament.

Well, that's something to look forward to. Since I need to have an ally, I think I'll ally with him first thing tomorrow.

As of now, I think I'll continue the book in the morning. I have to sleep.

As Jesus Chavez
I had a busy day after being reaped. Dozens of Tributes had asked me to ally with them, another few sent me hate mail, and still more sent me congratulations. In fact, it was 10 PM local time when I had decided to go to bed, but my last call of the day postponed my sleep plans. This time, the call was from JERealize and FableWarrior from California. "Hi," JERealize greeted me.

"Hello, Jesus." FableWarrior complied.

"Okay, it's nice to meet you two," I addressed causiously. "So, what's the purpose of your call?"

"We just wanted you to feel welcome, since you must already have had a rough day, and we also wanted you to know at least some of the competition," JERealize stated, "just to keep it fair."

Just then, I heard a knock on my door. I opened it, and an Avox passed me two biographies, one about JERealize and another about FableWarrior. As the Avox left and I was left keeping the books in my hand, I wondered, how could they do this to themselves? They're going to kill themselves!

I returned to the computer and, keeping out my feelings of worry, said indifferently, "Thanks."

<p style="text-align: center; ">* * *

After I ended the call, I skimmed through the two books, and found some good factoids about these two.

JERealize (real name Julian Espinoza) is a seventeen-year-old Mexican American autistic savant (I never knew he was autistic; in fact, he acted normal to me), and FableWarrior is one of his friends from school, with one grade level higher than JERealize is, and possibly more athletic. So far, they look like they might make it past the first day, but I might need to read more. However, I have to wait until tomorrow. They were right. I have had a rough day.

To be continued...

Third Act: The Introductions
Since the total amount of Tributes will be waaaay too big to handle throughout the Games, Headquarters has decided to start up an online website to share all upcoming Tribute news in the following days, including introductions done on each Tribute, training scores, and interviews (the parade and interviews will still be done on national television, along with their internet counterparts), as well as their progress in the Games. Because of this, all people are given free (although mediocre unless you upgrade) online-based computers that are only allowed to access the tournament website and its many files and nothing else.

BTW, the website also gave us this clue as to the arena: "We got this area cheap from a previous movie production. I can't believe this area stayed fresh after it has been destroyed a couple dozen times."

The Parade
TBA

Fourth Act: The Training
Again, I will have to tell this story when the time comes, and I will also have to ask certain others to share some of their stories that are compatible with mine and subsequent stories that are yet to follow.

The Training Scores
TBA

Fifth Act: The Interviews
Remember, since there are so many Tributes, I will have to highlight only the main points for each interview period.

Sixth Act: Before the Games
It's the same deal; I will tell my story and others may tell it when the time comes.

Seventh Act: The Games
TBA

"We got this area cheap from a previous movie production. I can't believe this area stayed fresh after it has been destroyed a couple dozen times."

-Anonymous Gamemaker

Also, this mutt will be included as a special guest: The Creeper.

http://www.minecraftwiki.net/wiki/Creeper