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

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

Fanfiction colour motif: None

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

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

Well now I have the motivation to do so. I'm currently writing a fanfiction set in my own HG fanon universe. But I'm also going to write a Games alongside it, these Games counting as part of my fanon universe. It's a risky move for me to make, considering my history of incomplete projects, but I have the motivation now to finish something before I retire completely.

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

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

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

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

Rules

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

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

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

Alliances

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

Other characters
Lunaiis I've made for some of the non-tribute characters.

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

The Story
Please note:
 * Some parts of the story may be longer than others, since I write down whatever comes to mind.
 * Please keep in mind that my writing is not perfect and I am prone to making errors.
 * There will be frequent changes.
 * Some POVs are bonus POVs, which will be specified in the title. They are optional to read.

Prologue -- Unknown Capitol Party Guest
FRIDAY, 8TH MAY 250ADD (Weeks after the official end of the civil war)

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

"To The Capitol!"

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

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

"Mrs Fragor! How are you?"

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

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

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

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

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

"You too."

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

"HI!"

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you think of it?"

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

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

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

"Thank you!"

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

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

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

A Dream Come True -- Ivy Sinclair, Capitol Female
SATURDAY, 30TH MAY 250ADD

As I looked into the mirror, I smiled.

I finally had a chance to shine.

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

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

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

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

Well, some of us Capitol citizens.

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

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

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

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

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

The arena was filled with plants.

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

I don't want to forget it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Indeed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe that's why the rebels lost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Got it."

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

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

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

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

"Hello everyone!"

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

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

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

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

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

Again, I roll my eyes.

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

Just get to the reaping video already.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Upon me.

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

"We will start with the male!"

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

Pulling her arm out, she opens the envelope.

"Diarmuid Fragor! Section 18MB!"

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

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

No one volunteers in his place.

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

"Diarmuid! How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

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

"Cool."

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

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

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

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

"S-"

...Volunteer.

"I volunteer as tribute!"

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

"We have a volunteer!"

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

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

I was the new human poison ivy.

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

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

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

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

Exactly.

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

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

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

And eliminate the sheep.

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

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

“…it’s not Radiance’s fault…”

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

“…and it’s not my fault either...”

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

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

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

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

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

I did so.

“Would you like to overwrite your current session?”

I press yes.

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

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

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

It’s surprisingly light.

“Please stand in the center.”

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

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

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

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

“Your session will begin in 3…2…1…!”

The first hologram spawned after the end of the countdown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One minute and fifty-nine seconds remaining.”

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

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

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

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

At least I was becoming more muscular.

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

“One minute and thirty seconds remaining.”

I return my focus to the task at hand.

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

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

It senses me.

A direct attack it is then.

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

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

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

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

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

“One minute remaining.”

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

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

“Fifty-two seconds remaining.”

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

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

“Twenty seconds remaining.”

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

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

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

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

I was forced to give up.

“Fifteen seconds remaining.”

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

I look around once more.

The balcony.

It’s going to spawn on the balcony.

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

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

And I…I can’t….

“Twelve seconds remaining.”

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

“Ten seconds remaining.”

“Nine…”

“Eight…”

“Seven…”

My frustration then evolved into rage. Where i-

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

Fucking bastards!

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

“Six…”

“Five…”

“Four…”

I take one last glance at the club.

“Three…”

“Two…”

I move the hand that was clutching the club backwards.

“One…”

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

“Session over.”

The arrow faded before it could hit me.

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

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

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

I was one hologram away from beating my record.

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

I recognise the obnoxious voice.

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

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

This little kid thinks he’s without any flaws.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I clench my right hand into a fist.

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

This starts to rile him up.

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

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

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

“Fuck you!”

Initiating the brawl was so easy.

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

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

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

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

“He can’t expel the star pupil.”

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

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

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

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

“Leon, can I talk to him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

So she’s left-handed, huh?

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

“What do you want then?”

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

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

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

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

“If you mean that, thank you.”

“I mean it.”

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

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

“Are you going to volunteer?” I ask.

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

“Definitely.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

A sign of my victory.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Radiance's portrait and Victory Tour poster were not on this wall. I don't know why. However, my father’s portrait and Victory Tour poster were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If my father won at the age I currently am, 17, then surely that's the best sign of all that I will win this year.

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

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

And I will win.

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

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

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

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

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

Friends?

“We should go into my office.”

“In the Specialised Training Unit?”

“No, here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Once you've sat down, we’ll begin talking.”

I sit down in the chair opposite to Radiance.

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

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

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

Radiance smiles sadly.

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

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

His smile briefly becomes more sorrowful.

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

“After he finished his speec-"

“Leon.”

“After Leon finished his speech about how it wasn’t the Academy’s fault that the civil war happened and put the Hunger Games on hold, I started over on the spiked club station. I was just training until the final hologram spawned on the balcony. Because I couldn’t get up to the balcony, I threw the club. The session ended and then he and his friends started mocking me for throwing the club. I tried to tell them that I was under pressure, but they continued to mock me, so I put him in his place. After calling me a “buffoon” and a “hypocritical dumbass”, he said that I wasn’t the best in the Academy and that I had weaknesses, but I wouldn’t admit it because I was apparently deluding myself into thinking that I was the best thing to happen to the district. I said to him that he was the delusional one because I actually trained at a station, whilst he was just walking around with his friends criticising other people. I then added that if I were to have weaknesses, my physical prowess alone would cancel them out and that he criticised those that were better than him because he was jealous. He got angry and called me fat. I said I wasn’t fat, I was muscular. I-”

“You were dishing out insults as well, weren’t you?”

“N-no.”

“Kris, you’re changing the story so that it looks like you didn’t say anything malicious towards him. But I know how much you dislike Leon and his son.”

Radiance saw right through me.

“I was defending myself. He had no right to criticise me. I’ve been practicing with the spiked club since I was a child. And I don’t have weaknesses.”

“Yes, it was wrong of him to mock you. But he was right when he said you have weaknesses.”

The last part of Radiance’s sentence struck a nerve. I couldn’t help but feel betrayed.

“I thought you were on my side. If you are my friend, you’re supposed to agree with me.”

“I am on your side. That’s why I intervened, so I can give you my advice. But I also have to tell you what you need to hear. You may not like it, but if you want to win those Games and be prepared for the reality that follows, you need a reality check. You do have weaknesses.”

I frown. I choose not to say anything.

“There is no such thing as “the best pupil in the Academy”. There are high-achieving students, such as yourself, but even those pupils have weaknesses. No one is perfect at everything. Your weaknesses, from what I’ve deduced, are climbing, your attitude and your impulsive streak.”

“I’m not impulsive.”

“You are. An example of your impulsiveness is when you threw the spiked club. However, I can understand why you did this. Most people can climb up to the balcony and hit the hologram with the club, but because of your inability to climb which is caused by your physique, you had no other option. As of your attitude, you are admittedly very arrogant. You believe in the myth that there’s a star pupil who is superior to all other students and you believe that you are the star pupil.”

“What are you saying? That my father’s teachings were wrong? He always told me that a competitive spirit is the key to becoming a Victor. The Hunger Games is the survival of the fittest. The most superior tribute always wins.”

“Not true. I’m also a Victor and I can refute that. Competitiveness (and arrogance) don’t guarantee a victory and the most superior tribute isn’t always the one that survives at the end. People from poorer districts have won the Games before and weaklings have won by various methods. What Games have you watched?”

“From what I can remember, my father’s Games, the 240th Games, the 242nd Games and the Games from six years ago.”

Radiance sighs.

“You haven't watched any Games where a bloodthirsty Career didn't win, that’s the problem. I think it’s time I tell you about my own Games, since you don’t seem to have watched them.”

On the desk was a wooden picture frame. Radiance turned it around so I could see the picture. It was of a girl that was, much like Radiance, tanned and had long black hair. Her eyes were chocolate brown. She had a wide smile on her face. From what I could see, she was wearing a red shirt and a rose in her hair.

“The girl in the image is my late sister, Sapphire. Why I am so willing to help you isn’t just because I see your potential, it’s also because you remind me of my sister, and I don’t want you to make the same mistake that she did.”

“Was your sister competitive?”

“Undoubtedly. She was older than me. Because she was older than me, she believed that she was better than me. I loved her, but I didn’t love how she always felt like she had to be the best at everything. She would always ask me to compete with her in races. Whenever she beat me, she would rub it in my face. When we played board games, she always had to be the one in control. She couldn’t accept defeat.”

“She was a sore loser.”

“Exactly.”

“Did she believe that she was the star pupil when she was enrolled into the Academy?”

“Yes. She believed in that myth. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

I hate to admit it, but yes.

I nod.

“When she was sixteen and I was fourteen, she volunteered for the Games. I volunteered for them as well. Despite it being a normal Games that year, there was a twist. To be eligible for the reaping, candidates had to be related to or descendants of a Victor. Lo and behold, we found out that we were descendants of Christina Parthenon.”

“Weren’t there any recent victors in your family that would have made you eligible?” I ask.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t really explored the background of my father's family or my mother's. I only found out about Christina because my father told me. It’s a possibility that there is or might have been a Victor in the family after Christina. Anyway, I was the Career with the lowest odds.”

“That can’t be true.”

“Kris, I was scrawny back then. Not the muscular man you know now. I trained my body only after I won.”

It would probably take me a while to picture a scrawny-looking Radiance.

“If I had a picture on hand, I’d show you. Unfortunately, I don’t. So yeah, I was scrawny, and I was terrible at hand-to-hand combat. I only joined the Careers because Sapphire did. She seemed to be the “ace” of the alliance. Despite her build, she could wield a battle-axe as well as any District 7 tribute. When it came to melee combat, she could take on everyone in our alliance, outmaneuvering even the District 2 male. Because of this, she proclaimed herself to be the leader.”

“What were Sapphire’s odds?”

“4-1. She had the best odds, but that didn’t mean that she was without weaknesses. When the training scores were broadcast, the commentators pointed out everyone’s weaknesses, as well as strengths. They said if she was a better swimmer, her odds would have been shortened to 3-1. She denied that she had any weaknesses. Unfortunately for her, the arena was an island in the middle of an ocean, this ocean stretching to the arena’s boundaries. She survived up until the first arena event; a tsunami. The tsunami wiped out a portion of the island and we set up our base in the area that was destroyed. Sapphire drowned before I could rescue her, so all I could do was run. A week later, I ended up becoming the Victor. My point is that I wasn’t the fittest out of the 24 tributes nor was I the most superior. Although I was a Career, I didn’t win by being bloodthirsty. I won because I luckily survived the arena events. Sapphire had the best odds of winning and yet because she couldn’t face up to her weaknesses or work on them since she believed that she didn’t have any, she lost her life. By your (and your father's) logic, she should have won because she had the best odds and therefore was in a way “the fittest/most superior”. But she didn’t.”

“The arena could have just been a coincidence.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t make my point invalid. Sapphire was the strongest in terms of odds, but she still died. By believing that you’re the best in the Academy, you’re taking the first step towards making the same mistakes. If you carry on with this arrogant mindset or resume believing that the fittest/most superior always wins, even after telling you that weaklings and people from poorer districts have won before, as well as about Sapphire and my Games, you won’t accept your weaknesses or work on them and that could potentially lead to your demise. The arena could be anything, maybe even just one big forest. Having advantages is good, but they don’t cancel out any of your weaknesses.”

“What do you want me to do then?”

“I want you to work on your weaknesses. You don’t have to take my advice, but I at least want you to remember it. If I become your mentor, I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Now, you should go home and get ready.”

The chat eventually concluded, and I said goodbye to Radiance. After shutting the door behind me, I walked out of the Academy.

I tried to process everything that Radiance had told me. Despite feeling betrayed by him when he agreed with something that Leon’s bratty son said, I heard him out because I respected him. According to Radiance, if I didn’t own up to my weaknesses or work on them, I could end up like Sapphire, and my father’s words apparently weren’t always true.

But being competitive and striving to be the best and the most superior is who I am. If I don’t strive to be superior, I’m as good as dead.

“Amethyst, what’s the time?” I ask, once I was at the reception.

“It’s 11:20am. The reaping is in 2 hours and 10 minutes.” She replies, smiling at me after looking at her watch.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

The doors opened automatically. I walked out into the sweltering heat.

I push Radiance's words to the back of my mind, as I arrive at my family's home in the Victor's Village. Ignoring the neighbouring families, I open the door.

My mother isn’t there. I can only see Dad in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of black coffee. I could smell the aroma from where I was standing.

“If that’s you Kris, get ready for the reaping. You’re going to volunteer.” He shouts.

“Where’s Mom?”

“She’s at a fashion show.”

I walk into my room. On the side is a note from my mother. I recognised her handwriting.

You are NOT wearing a vest to the reaping. ''I want you to look presentable. You’re going to be on live television.'' I’ve laid out your clothes for you.

The clothes she had selected for me were in fact laid out neatly on my bed. It was the fancy white shirt that she wanted me to wear, a pair of black pants and dress shoes.

Not what I’d wear, but I couldn’t argue with her about it because she wasn’t here. I might as well just put the damn thing on.

After getting in the shower and drying myself, I put the outfit on. I never had to complain about any of my shirts being unable to fit me because my mother always had them altered. It was practically a hobby of hers.

It’s because of her that I even know what’s in fashion or about jewellery.

I didn’t dry my hair. The sun would naturally dry it anyway.

“It’s technically your first reaping, but because of me and because of your training, you know what to expect.” Dad reminds me.

“Fingerprint scanners, get into the section of the square I’m supposed to be in, listen to the Mayor and the district escort, see which two of the district’s victors get chosen to become the mentors, watch the reaping video and then volunteer before the escort can read out a name from the male reaping bowl.”

“And why am I no longer eligible to be chosen as a mentor?”

“When I was five, you got into a confrontation with some Peacekeepers at a coffee shop in the Capitol. The confrontation turned violent. They called for reinforcements and arrested you. You were brought to the President so you could explain yourself, since you were one of the President’s favourite victors and he didn’t want to execute you. He decided that instead of executing you, he would revoke your right to mentor District 1 tributes. This still stands, despite the change of Presidents since then.”

“Correct. I’ll see you at the Justice Building.”

I walk out of the house and into the sweltering heat again. The Victor’s Village was especially active today. I’m tempted to ignore my neighbours again, but two of them approach me.

Fleur and Égaré Mauntell was the granddaughter and grandson, respectively, of the late Ashlynn Mauntell.

“Well, well, well, if isn’t Musclebrain wearing fancy clothes. Never thought I’d see you in anything other than a vest or that god awful training uniform.” Égaré jokingly scoffs. I couldn’t take him seriously. His choice of outfit was nothing but a black fur coat (a rather odd choice for weather like this), black shorts and sandals. No shirt underneath that coat whatsoever. In his right hand was a black electronic cigarette, explaining why the air smelled of cherries when he and Fleur approached me. In his other hand was a tiny zip lock bag with white powder inside.

I’ve never taken or consumed drugs and I don't intend to because I actually care about my health, but even I know what that white powder is.

The drug abuse was taking a toll on Égaré’s appearance. There were dark circles under his forest green eyes and his skin was pale. His raven black hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in weeks. When he used to attend the Academy, he had a six pack. Nowadays, there was no trace of the six pack.

“And your outfit is truly befitting of a drug king.” I respond sarcastically. Égaré changes the flavour of his electronic cigarette. He seemed to be using an advanced model or version, as I could clearly see the pods which contained the “juice”. Like the chambers of a revolver, there were five different slots for these pods. Each flavour was marked by a different colour. The cherry flavour was marked by a red pod. I assumed the purple pod was grape, the green pod was apple or pear, the yellow pod was banana – basically, I assumed that these pods were fruit flavoured.

The yellow pod was the pod he was now using.

''And I was right. The air smelled of bananas.''

Fleur stares deeply at Égaré when she sees the bag of cocaine in his other hand. Égaré rolled his eyes and tucked it into an inside pocket.

“How are you, Kris?” Fleur asks me with concern, once she had turned her head away from Égaré. In contrast to her brother, she wore brighter clothing; a knee-length magenta dress, a light pink chiffon cardigan and white slip-on shoes; the white shoes matching her white summer hat.

“I’m fine, just had a long day at the Academy.”

“Blythe told me that you-”

''Blythe? Is that the name of the pink-haired girl?''

Égaré puffs on his cigarette again.

“Fleur-”

“We actually came here to ask you if you wanted to walk with us to the reaping. We’ll talk along the way.”

“Sure. We might as well carry on our conversation.” I respond.

“Great.” Fleur smiles. The three of us proceed to walk to the Reaping Square, passing various shops, gardens and cafes along the way.

“Blythe told me that you got into a fight with Leon’s son. I wish I could have seen it, but with Grandma passing away, I’ve had to spend some time off from the Academy.” Fleur finishes her sentence from earlier.

“You’re not wearing black. Shame on you.” Égaré teases Fleur.

“The funeral was weeks ago and I’m not going to be wearing dark clothing to my first ever reaping. I don't wanna look like a crybaby on live television. Besides, if Grandma was alive to see you in that outfit, I’m sure she’d have downed every bottle of vodka in the alcohol cabinet.”

“At least she wouldn’t have had a stick up her- oh yeah, I forgot it’s the first ever reaping for you kiddos.” Égaré chuckles. “This is technically my final reaping. If I don’t get reaped, I’m gonna make myself the best joint ever once I get home.”

''You don’t have to worry, Égaré. I’m going to volunteer.''

Fleur ignores him.

“Does Blythe have pink hair by any chance? Does she wear an angel necklace?” I ask Fleur.

“She does. Did she talk to you?”

“I-uh-”

“C’mon Kris, you can talk to me. Did Blythe say anything to you?”

She was too insistent. I gave in.

“Yeah. After Radiance intervened on my behalf, she talked to me. She said she was going to volunteer and that she intends on joining the Careers.”

“Let me guess, you intend on volunteering and joining the Careers too?” Fleur sighs. “Now I have to sponsor two people.”

Égaré interjects. “You’ll have to send gifts on my behalf as well. I can’t be bothered travelling to and from the Capitol.”

“Uh..no. If you wanna send your own gifts, you have to come with me.”

Égaré pouts.

“How is Radiance, by the way?” Fleur asks me. I presume that she’s asking me this because she hasn’t seen him in a while, due to her familial circumstances.

I decide to be honest.

“He’s worried about me.”

“Worried? Are you sure everything’s fine, Kris?”

Again, I’m honest with her.

“When Leon was about to call me into his office after the fight, Radiance asked him if he can talk to me. Turns out that he wanted to talk to me because he had advice for me. He said that I reminded him of his sister because she denied that she had weaknesses and because she believed she was the best. I told him about the “survival of the fittest” ideology that my dad taught me and how the most superior wins, but Radiance said that it wasn’t true because Sapphire had the best odds in her Games, yet she didn’t survive. He doesn’t want me to make the same mistakes that she did, and he wants me to work on my weaknesses.”

“Isn’t Radiance still eligible to be picked as a mentor?” Égaré asks. That question was his only meaningful contribution to the conversation.

“Yes. He gave me the advice in case he wasn’t picked. But he said that if he is selected, he’ll do whatever he can to help me.” I reply. I stopped pushing Radiance’s words and advice to the back of my mind.

'“The Hunger Games is the survival of the fittest. The most superior tribute always wins.”'

'“Not true. I’m also a Victor and I can refute that.”'

***

“I was the Career with the lowest odds.”

“That can’t be true.”

'“Kris, I was scrawny back then. Not the muscular man you know now. I trained my body only after I won.”'

***

'“So yeah, I was scrawny, and I was terrible at hand-to-hand combat. I only joined the Careers because Sapphire did. She seemed to be the “ace” of the alliance… Because of this, she proclaimed herself to be the leader.”'

“What were Sapphire’s odds?”

'“4-1. She had the best odds, but that didn’t mean she was without weaknesses…They said if she was a better swimmer, her odds would have been shortened to 3-1. She denied that she had any weaknesses…Sapphire drowned before I could rescue her, so all I could do was run. A week later, I ended up becoming the Victor. My point is that I wasn’t the fittest out of the 24 tributes nor was I the most superior. Although I was a Career, I didn’t win by being bloodthirsty. I won because I luckily survived the arena events. Sapphire had the best odds of winning and yet because she couldn’t face up to her weaknesses or work on them since she believed that she didn’t have any, she lost her life. By your logic, she should have won because she had the best odds and therefore was in a way “the fittest/most superior”. But she didn’t.”'

'“Sapphire was the strongest in terms of odds, but she still died. By believing that you’re the best in the Academy, you’re taking the first step towards making the same mistakes. If you carry on with this arrogant mindset or resume believing that the fittest/most superior always wins, even after telling you that weaklings and people from poorer districts have won before, as well as about Sapphire and my Games, you won’t accept your weaknesses or work on them and that could potentially lead to your demise…Having advantages is good, but they don’t cancel out any of your weaknesses.”'

'“I want you to work on your weaknesses. You don’t have to take my advice, but I at least want you to remember it.”'

***

We stop outside a café. We were close to the Reaping Square.

“I need to go to the toilet.” Égaré declares.

“Then go!” Fleur shouts at him frustratedly, pointing to the café. “But be quick! The reaping’s about to begin soon!”

“Jeez, you don’t have to shout at me all the time. You’re not my parent.”

Fleur and I stand outside, whilst Égaré hurries inside to go to the toilet.

“He wants me to stop being arrogant, which I apparently am, because he thinks it will get me killed. He also wants me to stop believing in the survival of the fittest ideology. But I just can’t abandon my ideals and forget what I’ve been taught. I have to strive to be the best, because I want to win. I’m not in the arena to make friends, I’m there to eliminate the competition until I’m the last one standing.”

Fleur grimaces at my words. She’s supporting two people, yet only one can come out.

“Promise me you won’t harm Blythe.”

“If we’re the ones in the finale-”

“Kris, it’s a Quarter Quell. You don’t know what the twist will be. There might be more than one victor by the end.”

“The twist has already been revealed. The Capitol and District 13 will send tributes of their own.”

“There can be more than one twist. Remember the story of the 75th Hunger Games? There was more than one twist. The first was that Victors were the tributes and the second was the layout of the arena. It was a clock. Different sections of the arena brought different events, as if it was by hour.”

“If we’re both going to be in the Careers, she’ll be one of my allies so I’ll do what I can to help her. But if there’s only one person that can come out of the arena, it will be me. If I have to fight her, I have to fight her. I won’t be able to avoid that.”

Fleur sighs.

“Guess I’ll have to pray for an increase in Victors rule. And about Radiance’s advice, I think you should take it. But I’m not saying that you have to change your personality. If striving to be the best will help you in the Games, then you shouldn’t change that. But if you work on a variety of skills, then whatever weaknesses Radiance said you had will turn into advantages. You can be arrogant and work on your weaknesses at the same time.”

I look to the ground.

I have nothing more to say.

Égaré eventually returned, breaking the awkward silence.

“We can go now guys! I feel so much better!”

What perfect timing he had.

I stay silent for the rest of the walk, arriving at the fingerprint scanning table. The Peacekeepers are swift, as the queue shortens quickly.

In the middle of the Reaping Square was a fountain, not like the one back in the Academy. The almost completely occupied sections surrounded this fountain. People were relying on it to cool themselves down.

After watching Égaré attempt to seduce one of the Peacekeepers, the details of their previous encounters I just managed to block out, I get my fingerprint scanned and head over to the section I was supposed to be at. I didn’t need anyone to escort me.

Because of the events earlier, I was inevitably stared at. Ignoring the stares, I look to the stage.

On cue, the district escort arrives.

A heavily pregnant Delia Joyal walked out onto the stage from the Justice Building. She has been District 1’s escort for ten years, since she was only fourteen. If I knew her from anything, it was the amount of scandals that she was usually involved in -– mostly sleeping with numerous victors and fellow socialites. I obviously didn’t really care for it, but my mother did and if she wanted to watch “Panem Drama !”, she would watch “Panem Drama!”.

One half of her orange hair had been clipped, whilst the other had been let loose. It looked similar to Blythe’s hairstyle. Her eyes were forest green, reminiscent of the trees in District 7.

Her outfit was a green silk robe, which, according to my mother, was known in the Old Era as a “kimono”, a white T-shirt, a breezy-looking white skirt and sandals. In her right hand was a green, floral handheld fan and in her left was the microphone.

“As you can see, I’m pregnant and I’m very tired. I don’t want to be stood in this heatwave all day and I can see how eager you all are to volunteer, but we have to do things by the book. Just be patient for a little while. If you disrespect me, Mayor Nobel or any of the potential mentors, I won’t hesitate to hit you with one of my sandals. Capiche ?”

The noise in the crowd is moderate. I could hear some chatter.

“Right. I’ll start by covering the basics. Some district escorts forget to do this or are too fresh out of training to know what to do, but I’ve been doing this gig since I was a kid, so I know all the procedures like the back of my hand. This year is the 250th edition of the Hunger Games, also known as the 10th Quarter Quell. To commemorate the return of the Games, the Quarter Quell twist is that The Capitol will send tributes of their own for the first time. Simultaneously, as punishment for participating in the war, the newly-conquered District 13 will also send tributes into the Games for the first time.”

“What does that have to do with us?”

“I know, right?”

“I hear chattering. If I have to use my sandals to get you to be quiet, I will. Carrying on. District 1 fought on the side of the loyalists during the civil war. Even though our side was victorious, it’s important to remember those who lost their lives. You guys aren’t the sentimental type, I know, but you need to realise that you aren’t invincible. I’ve visited the graveyard and it looks abandoned. There were hardly any flowers. If I have some advice, it would be to pay your respects to your former fellow citizens. They’re worthy of your respect as much as the victors you glorify.”

If it had been anyone else saying this, an uproar would have taken place.

“Dead people can’t hear us or respond to us.”

“It’s a waste of time to talk to a grave.”

“Although I really don’t want to bend over to grab a sandal, I will do it if you don’t heed my warnings. Carrying on for the second time. I believe that for everyone except the eighteen-year olds, it’s your first ever reaping. But I’m positive that you’ve been taught all the reaping procedures, so you’ll know what comes next. Please welcome Mayor Stellan Nobel.”

Delia hands over the microphone to Mayor Nobel; a middle-aged man with nothing but stress and fatigue plastered on his face. She then opens up her fan and starts waving it, directing the airflow towards her face.

“Thank you, Miss Joyal. I would like to talk to you for a few moments before we progress into the selection of the mentors. I cannot emphasise enough the importance of remembering those who lost their lives in the war. Some of you may remember my daughter, Thana .”

The screens behind the stage changed from the district’s emblem to a picture of Thana. She had long, black hair, grey eyes and a smile that looked as if it could light up a room. Her hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing the Academy’s uniform. Underneath her arm was a football.

“Thana had so many positive qualities. She was kind, caring, intelligent. She was active and had a love for sports. Her favourite was football, or soccer for those who prefer to call it that. Playing football was what she loved to do when she wasn’t training for the Hunger Games.”

The Mayor talked more about Thana. As she was young and able-bodied, she was conscripted for the war.

''She fought alongside Radiance, then. If she was in the Academy not long before I was there, Radiance could have been her teacher.''

“Thana was killed by a rebel trap. Disclosing the full details as to how she died is not only gory, but also rather painful for me…”

Mayor Nobel stops, clenching his hand into a fist and pressing it against his closed lips. He was trying to prevent himself from breaking down into tears. This was a live broadcast.

“Mayor Nobel, do you want me to take over?” Delia asks, coming to his side. Her fan was still open.

“It’s okay, Miss Joyal. I need to finish this.” The Mayor responds, giving her a reassuring smile. Delia stands back again.

“We should be grateful to the deceased, like Thana, and to the injured for ensuring the continuation of beloved traditions such as the Hunger Games and the safety of the Capitol and our district. That is why remembering them is so important. They are the reason why we can officially celebrate the return of the Hunger Games. I wish our tributes the absolute best of luck, although with our district’s history of victories and prowess, I’m sure they don’t need to rely on luck. I am confident that one or maybe both will return safely.”

When the Mayor finishes, the crowd cheers and claps. Delia closes her fan and takes back the microphone.

“That was lovely, Mayor Nobel. On that note, we can now begin with the selection of this year’s mentors. With the obvious exception of The Capitol and District 13, as they have never competed in the Games before, each district is allowed two mentors. If a district does not have two mentors or any mentors at all, Gamemakers or volunteers will fill in the spots. However, you only get one district escort. Even more of a reason to not disrespect me. The procedure for when a district has a vast number of victors is to select them in a manner similar to a reaping. Please welcome the prospective mentors.”

The screen, having changed back to the Capitol emblem from Thana’s picture, changes to a video montage of the moments in which the eligible living victors from 1 all became victors. My dad was not on there because of the coffee shop incident.

But Radiance was.

The age limit for eligibility to become a mentor is 65. The oldest victor that was still eligible was Izumi Valletta. According to the video montage, she was fifteen years old when she won the 202nd Hunger Games.

Her hair was still blonde, but parts of it were changing to a grey colour. In the sun, the grey parts of her hair looked silver.

Although she had a walking stick, two Peacekeepers came to her aide; escorting her to her seat. Once she was seated, she waved to the crowd.

The next victor chronologically was Harrington Bulgari. His Games took place three years after Izumi’s. Accompanying him was a Dachshund. At first, I was confused as to why a dog had been allowed onto the stage.

Then I realised he was blind, and the Dachshund was his guide dog.

Radiance was the ninth victor to walk out onto the stage. He had changed out of his uniform and into more “fancy” clothing. He even had a different eyepatch on.

His fans cheered, with some wolf whistling.

“You should take your top off!” One girl shouted. Radiance chuckled and winked at the girl.

I expected Delia to be annoyed yet again, but she was gazing at Radiance. When he grinned at her, she blushed. She tried to conceal this by hiding her face behind her fan.

The video montage revealed to me the information that Radiance failed to mention, such as the edition of the Games he won.

''“Radiance Anjou won the 228th Hunger Games, at the age of 14. He was victorious after witnessing the death of his sister, the ferocious Sapphire Anjou, in a tsunami, and managing to survive every event that the Gamemakers threw his way.”''

He didn’t tell me that he was my father’s successor.

Radiance hadn’t been lying when he said he was scrawny prior to becoming a Victor. The video showed him crying on a beach, over the death of Sapphire. His physique was…normal.

I would have been angry at Radiance for hiding information from me, even after he contemplated calling me his friend. But this was the reaping and I had to concentrate on volunteering.

Radiance was unable to see me in the crowd.

The final victor was the leather jacket-clad Trapiche Cabochon, the victor of the 242nd Games. I didn’t even need to watch the montage to know how she won her Games. The finale took place in a mine. Having found a pickaxe, she tracked down her opponent. Her opponent was the District 5 female, who was a swordswoman. Trapiche defeated her by disarming her and pushing her into lava. When the District 5 female was burned alive, the final cannon sounded and Trapiche was announced as the victor.

She was holding a cup of coffee, watching the crowd as she gulped the coffee consistently.

“Now that all of the eligible victors are here, it’s time to pick District 1’s mentors.”

A bowl containing the names of the victors on stage was placed next to Delia. Her kimono appeared to have pockets, as she stashed her handheld fan inside one of them. With the microphone in one hand, she picked up an envelope from the bowl with the other.

“Radiance Anjou!”

The cheering was exponential this time around. Radiance smiled and waved. He was probably trying to stay humble.

Looks like he’s going to be my mentor.

I can’t say I’m surprised.

“Now, time for the second mentor!”

Delia picks up an envelope from the bowl. She does this just as swiftly and quickly as before.

“Trapiche Cabochon!”

Her gulping of her coffee was rapid-fire.

“Next up is the reaping video. The President has created videos for all the districts and The Capitol. Spare me from having to retrieve my sandals whilst I’m tired and in pain by being quiet and watching the video. Afterwards, you can be as disorderly as you want.” Delia points her fan at the crowd. She sits down next to Radiance.

The screens change to a title card.

DISTRICT 1 REAPING VIDEO

There was nothing but silence until the title card faded into footage of the Presidential Mansion. Inside an office decorated with Capitol banners was the new President. He was sitting at his desk.

He was holding a diamond.

“To the district of luxury and undeniable beauty, I say hello.”

The President described the history of Panem, most of which was general knowledge and didn’t really have much relevance to District 1 specifically – until the Dark Days were mentioned.

''“All of the districts disgustingly behaved like disrespectful and ungrateful children. Biting the hand that fed them. That led to the establishment of our beloved Hunger Games, via the Treaty of Treason. District 1 fortunately learned its lesson and has made valuable contributions to Panem ever since.”''

The end of the speech detailed the events of the civil war and its aftermath.

''“The Capitol thanks you, District 1, for your loyalty. Karma looks at District 1 in a favourable light. I also acknowledge your success in the Games and the amazing tributes and victors that you have produced. You should be proud.”''

''“I hope to see two strong, determined people representing District 1. Your prowess as a district has not gone unnoticed.”''

The final shot of the video was of the President examining the diamond. It faded into a roll of the credits, before cutting back to the Capitol emblem.

“Ok. I need to mentally prepare for this.” I hear Delia mutter to herself, stretching and taking deep breaths.

The bowl for the mentor selection was taken away. In its place were the male and female reaping bowls.

It isn’t just Radiance’s words in my head anymore.

Fleur’s advice was on my mind also.

*** '''“If striving to be the best will help you in the Games, then you shouldn’t change that. But if you work on a variety of skills, then whatever weaknesses Radiance said you had will turn into advantages. You can be arrogant and work on your weaknesses at the same time.”''' ***

“You know the drill. Males first. Because I know volunteers are inevitable, get yourselves ready.” Delia tells us, before putting her hand into the male reaping bowl.

She shuffles the envelopes around, deliberately creating suspense for the cameras. My eyes were fixated on the envelope she picked up.

“Denor-”

There’s the signal. Just like that, the majority of us brawl for the chance to get onto the stage. I apply brute force against my rivals, knocking them to the ground.

I make my way to the fourteen-year-olds section.

''Surprise, surprise. Leon’s son was there.''

“Get out of my way. I already beat you once today. I can easily do it again.” I threaten him. He was decorated with the injuries I caused him. I was more than happy to decorate him with some more.

“Screw you, Jones.”

As much as I wanted to fight him again, this wasn’t a sequel to it. I was getting him out of my way. One shove against the fence and he was out of my path.

The twelve- and thirteen-year olds were no match for me. Too weak to put up a decent fight against me, I made it to the steps of the stage.

“I volunteer as tribute!”

“What’s your name?” Delia asks me, waving her fan. The cameras are turned towards me and I meet the angry gazes of the people whose dreams I just crushed.

“Kris Jones.”

“Jones? As in Carter Jones?”

“Yes. Carter Jones is my father.” I reply proudly.

For a brief moment, I look at Radiance. He gives me a small smile.

“Why did you volunteer?”

“Because I want to win the Games and become a Victor. In fact, I will be the Victor.”

Radiance’s smile turns sorrowful.

''I’ve decided. I’m taking Fleur’s advice. I respect Radiance. But I also want to stay true to who I am.''

“Thank you, Kris. That was a very bold declaration. Now, I’m going to select the female tribute.” Delia announces to the crowd.

I stand next to the male reaping bowl. The bowl is taken away shortly afterwards, leaving a wide gap between myself and Delia.

I don’t watch her select the female tribute, choosing to spend my appearance on the broadcast smirking at the crowd below.

Within the crowd somewhere was Blythe.

I wonder if she’ll stick to her word.

“Delux-”

“I volunteer as tribute!”

She stuck to her word.

To Remember and To Honour -- Nova Deimos, District 2 Female
'''DISCLAIMER: This POV mentions racism, which I do not condone. Reader discretion is advised.'''

“I’ve always wanted to volunteer for the Hunger Games, if being a thief doesn’t work out.”

“If the Games return, why don’t you volunteer?”

''“Because I’m good at being a thief and I don’t want to leave my friends behind. Dying when the Star Stranglers are in their prime is so lame.”''

***

“Guys, we need to upgrade our weapons.”

“Lee, you’ve created a light-blocking gun.”

''“I know, but that isn’t enough. We need the best weapons to protect ourselves with.”''

''“What do you suggest we do? There are a lot of weapons bases, but they’re heavily guarded.”''

''“So what if they’re heavily guarded? Remember our motto?”''

“We will strike fear into the hearts of every Peacekeeper in Panem?”

''“Exactly. We are the Star Stranglers, and no one will get in our way. Once we upgrade our weapons, we won’t just strike fear into the hearts of Peacekeepers, we will strike fear into everyone’s hearts. Including everyone who bullied us because we’re friends with someone of a different race.”''

''We all smile. Diarra’s smile is heart-warming.''

''“I’m in. Which base should we infiltrate?”''

“That one.”

Lee pointed to a base on top of a hill, near the mountains separating District Two from The Capitol.

''“That’s the most heavily-guarded base in the entire district. You do realise that everyone who has tried to invade it has been shot dead? No one’s come out of there alive.”''

''“Well, we’ll be the first ones to survive and we’ll come out of it with a massive stash of weapons. Are you in, Nova?”''

It took me some time, but I eventually gave in.

''“As dangerous as this is, it’s important for us to be feared and we’ll be taken seriously if we have some new and powerful weapons. I’m in.”''

***

''Diarra and Lee created the plan to the infiltration of the base. I listened, giving advice when necessary.''

''“They’ll have someone controlling the spotlight, which I can disable with my gun. I estimate that there will be a large number of Peacekeepers at the entrance. I’ve done some background research and they have snipers on the roof. Once the Peacekeepers outside have been dealt with, we can disguise ourselves until we gain access to the weapons vault. After that, we just have to take down as many of them as we can and get out of there, escaping through the forest. I believe we can do this.”''

***

''BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!''

Some of the Peacekeepers that had ambushed us hit the ground with a thud, their blood seeping through their uniforms.

''“Grave mistake, kid. Those weapons are for the war, not for trespassers like you.”''

“RUN!” Lee yelled to us.

''I looked at Lee. My heart was heavy with despair, knowing what was to come next. He had no way of escaping without getting shot.''

Obeying his instruction to run, I followed Diarra back into the base.

BOOM!

One gunshot and he was…gone.

One of the Star Stranglers…gone.

One of my friends…gone.

***

''“The Peacekeepers are after us! I’m not leaving you behind!”''

“And I don’t want you to get killed.”

''“But I don’t want you to get killed either! I’m not leaving without y-”''

''“Take the weapons and run back to your house. In fact-”''

''She took off a silver ring and placed it in my hand. I recognised it immediately. It was the ring that Lee had given to her, as a reminder that no matter where the Star Stranglers were or what situation we were in, we would always be friends.''

''“I’m giving this to you. If I don’t make it out alive, I want you to know that this ring is a symbol of not just our comradery as Star Stranglers, but also a symbol of our friendship. Maybe even siblinghood. I love you.”''

I teared up.

“I love you too.”

''I placed the ring on my finger. Then I took the bag of weapons and ran for dear life.''

''BOOM! BOOM!''

I have to volunteer.

I need to get my mother and I out of poverty and I need to honour Diarra and Lee.

''Diarra always wanted to volunteer, but she never got the chance. So today, I’ll fulfill her wish for her.''

The ring wasn’t just my token.

It was also my good-luck charm.

I held the ring in the palm of my hand. I cleaned it regularly, to ensure that it never loses its beautiful gleam.

I traced my thumb over the inscription inside the ring. The inscription was “Amicitia”, which was the Latin word for friendship. Latin was a language from the Old Era – and I learned about it in school, since ‘Panem’ came from the Latin phrase ‘Panem et circenses’ – meaning “Bread and circuses”.

“Diarra, Lee, if you’re listening to me from up there, I’m going to volunteer today. I’m doing it to help my mom out and to honour both of you. If I win, those damn Peacekeepers won’t be able to do anything to me and the Star Stranglers will finally be recognised. But in order for me to win, I need all the luck I can get. I mean, I know how to use a knife, but that doesn’t guarantee a victory. Can you guys give me some luck?” I ask them, as if they were with me. The ring was still in the palm of my hand.

All I can hear are the sounds of the newscasters on TV speaking, my mom’s footsteps and other residents of the district’s less-wealthy neighbourhood outside.

“Maybe there isn’t-”

“Nova, who are you talking to?” Mom asks me. She doesn’t enter my room, but I can hear her call my name.

“No one.” I respond.

“Oh, okay. Are you dressed?”

“Yeah. I just need a moment before I leave.”

I hear Mom walk away.

“Maybe there isn’t life after death. Maybe there is. We’ll never know. But I like to believe that you guys are at least with me. So, I need you guys to help me as I go through the Games. Can you do that for me?”

''Again, I’m speaking to nothing. A gentle breeze flows into my room from the window I opened.''

“I’ll take that as a yes.” I say.

I put the ring back on my finger.

Rather immediately, I shift my gaze from the ring to the tattoo on my wrist. I trace my thumb gently over the three stars, with the names of the Star Stranglers in the middle of each.

Lee’s star was the first of the three. He was very intelligent and inventive, so much that when I first met him all those years ago, I thought he was from District 3. He was the strategist of the Star Stranglers, since he was the mastermind behind all of our plans. I may not have been as close with him as I was with Diarra, but he was still my friend and comrade.

My star was in the middle. I followed the cursive handwriting of the tattoo artist with my thumb.

The end of the cursive handwriting in my star led to the third and final star. Diarra’s.

Diarra…I couldn’t just use a single word to describe her. She was charismatic, friendly, funny, caring, kind…beautiful.

She was the only one who approached me back in third grade -- striking up a conversation with me and offering to introduce me to her friend. When I accepted the offer, eventually leading to me meeting Lee, I noticed how people were staring at us and giggling.

I eavesdropped on what they were saying.

"Oh look, she's hanging out with the black girl."

"My dad tells me that black people are criminals and thugs, so we should hate them."

"That girl doesn't know what she's getting herself into."

That was an example of the racism and prejudice Diarra faced throughout her life. Such a wonderful person like her was treated so badly by practically everyone except me and Lee, because she was part of a minority in a Caucasian-dominated school. Just thinking about some of the things that had been said to her face or about her behind her back made my blood boil.

Diarra became my best friend and confidante. I didn't care if I was getting bullied for befriending her -- I would have selected her over snobby rich kids any day. Lee didn't care either.

When we weren't doing gang activities, Diarra hung out with me and slept over at my house. Sometimes when we were hanging out, Lee would be included, but he would quickly change the focus back to the Star Stranglers' next move.

The sleepovers were strictly for Diarra and I. These sleepovers were the only chance we had to feel normal and temporarily forget that we led double lives.

A fitting reflection of the double lives we led; the stars had a double meaning – as the symbol of the Star Stranglers and as a symbol of our friendship and comradery. We used to draw the stars on our wrists when we were children, but as we grew up, they evolved into something even more significant.

When Diarra and Lee died, the stars gained a third meaning – a symbol of remembrance and honour.

That’s why I had it tattooed onto my skin. Because tattoo removal is expensive and I don’t want to get it removed anyway, it would be an eternal reminder that the three of us would be bound by our friendship and comradery forever -- regardless of death.

''No one can take that away from me. No one ever will.''

Mom was against the idea of me getting the tattoo for my seventeenth birthday, reminding me that tattoos were permanent. But that’s what I wanted. I wanted it to stay on my skin forever. I never want to get it removed.

Also, the tattoo was the only way for me to remember my friends that couldn’t be destroyed – the photographs of us, which were taken with a camera we had stolen, could be torn apart, the ring could be lost or stolen – thoughts that sent shivers down my spine, and the bag of weapons from that night could be returned to the weapons base anonymously by Mom or my aunt Aura, especially if I’m away in the Games.

In the end, I managed to convince Mom to let me have the tattoo.

I shifted my attention to the TV across the room.

The TV wasn't one of the items that I had stolen, it was given to me by Aura. It was small, the signal frequently stopped working and there were only five channels on it –- but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. Having lived in poverty my entire life, I was grateful for whatever I was given.

The newscasters were sitting behind a glossy white desk. On the desk were two computers, two touchscreen tablets, an electronic fan blowing air into the newscasters faces and glasses of water that had been placed away from the electronics. Behind them were screens displaying visuals of the Capitol emblem and the various district crests in order, and in front of them were teleprompters.

There was a male newscaster and a female newscaster. The male newscaster was Orgullo Firenze, a man in his early thirties. His hair had been dyed mustard yellow and was styled into a short back and sides, and he had two different-coloured contact lenses – one light pink, the other silver. His goatee was also dyed mustard yellow.

From what I could see of him, he was wearing a zebra-print collared shirt with silver outlines on the sleeves and the collar and a white tie. Although it was hard to see due to the camera angles, he was also wearing a wedding ring and two pins on his tie; a rainbow pin and a Capitol emblem pin. Earlier on in the broadcast, he revealed that he recently got married.

Aphrodite Fiala sat next to him. Today was her twenty-fourth birthday, as she was given a paper 'Happy Birthday' hat by Orgullo earlier on in the broadcast and Orgullo brought up her age after giving her the hat, much to her chagrin.

Aphrodite had dark purple hair, with strands of it dyed dark teal -- the dark teal strands were braided together at the back, and light violet contact lenses. Her hair was so thick that it covered her ears entirely.

I haven’t read any news about eye colour-changing surgeries yet, so I can only assume people with presumably colourful eyes are just wearing contact lenses for now.

Her outfit was either a sailor dress or a sailor top and a red tie. If it was a sailor top that she was wearing, then my guess is that she was wearing a skirt to go with the top. The sailor dress or top was white, with navy blue stripes around the collar and sleeves. The golden crescent moon necklace on top of her tie was a birthday present.

“You are watching the Capitol News channel. The date is Saturday 30th May. The time is currently 4:15pm, meaning that there is one hour and forty-five minutes to go until the District 2 reaping commences.” Aphrodite announces, reminding the viewers.

The visuals on the screen behind Aphrodite and Orgullo suddenly change to a countdown to the District 2 reaping. Above the countdown was the district seal.

''I was already dressed and prepared. Like I said to Mom, I needed a moment before I leave.''

''If I don’t achieve my goals of helping my Mom out financially and honouring my fallen friends, I may not see my room ever again – so I’m cherishing the small things before I begin the most important journey of my life. I can’t just be arrogant and say that I’ll win for sure, because the probability of defeat and death is always there.''

I just have to stay focused and concentrate on doing whatever it takes to survive, so that I can eliminate that probability.

“Speaking of reapings, the first four tributes of the 10th Quarter Quell have officially been determined! Only one of the four was reaped!” Orgullo directed the flow of the conversation towards the obviously biggest headline. The District 1 reaping has only just finished; I watched it as I was getting ready – with moments in between where I couldn’t help but reminisce about Diarra and Lee.

“You are right, Orgullo.”

Footage of The Capitol reaping appeared on the screens. The Capitol reaping took place in the Reaping Arena, which was an extension of the Presidential Mansion.

During one of our sleepovers, prior to the civil war, Diarra and I once discussed the possibility of The Capitol competing in the Games, and what would happen if they did. This included our predictions as to where the Capitol reaping would take place. I survived to see this idea come to life, but back then, we could only think about it hypothetically.

***

''“What would happen if The Capitol competed in the Games?” I asked Diarra. She knew more about the Hunger Games than me. Whilst I just watched them because the Games were a big deal in District 2 and you can’t escape from them no matter where you go, she could name nearly every victor.''

''Plus, she had a desire to volunteer. But she could never fulfill this desire because she was worried about leaving me and Lee behind.''

''“The Capitol can’t compete. Even if they could, they love the authority they have over us too much to want to participate.”''

''“I know that. I’m just wondering what would happen if they finally sent in tributes of their own. How would they evaluate their tributes in training without being biased? Would they dress their tributes in the most beautiful chariot parade and interview outfits? How would the Capitol’s participation affect the odds? And the reaping itself, how many envelopes would actually be in the reaping bowls? Where would it even take plac-”''

Diarra placed her index finger over my lips to silence me.

''“I’m gonna stop you right there. If the Gamemakers were fair, they’d evaluate the Capitol tributes on the same level as the rest of the tributes. Even if that wasn’t the case, they can’t completely hide the truth about their tributes’ abilities behind biases and exaggerations – for example, one of them could be terrible at melee combat and be given an eight in training due to biases, yet if they faced off against a stereotypical, trained-in-melee-combat Career in the arena, they’d meet their demise in a flash. Those watching would therefore see for themselves that the Gamemakers’ scoring was incorrect. As of the chariot parade and interview outfits, every stylist wants to make their tribute look the best. No stylist sets out to make their tribute look horrendous unless they’re either a rebel or a bad fashion designer – which is unlikely since the Capitol hires the best fashion designers to become stylists. The stylists for the Capitol tributes wouldn’t be any different. Odds wise, I can only assume that it would be overwhelmingly in favour of the Capitol, but the Career districts would still receive some acknowledgement.”''

She removed her finger from my lips.

“And what about the reaping?” I ask her, intrigued to hear more.

''“There are slums in The Capitol, so there is a minority that need to sign up for tesserae to survive. But the majority are rich, so that decreases the number of envelopes that would be in the reaping bowl. I don’t have a numeral estimate, but I do have an estimate; not a lot.”''

''“So, where do you think The Capitol reaping would take place? I think it would be held in the Avenue of Tributes.”''

''“I’d say the arena near the Presidential Mansion. The Capitol would probably be theatrical with how they host the reaping, and the arena is the perfect choice for that approach since it already hosts a plethora of other entertainment events. The Avenue of Tributes already serves a Games-related purpose, as the venue of the Chariot Parade.”''

***