Young Writers Society

Everyone's heard of the Hunger Games. From the tiniest of babies to the oldest of people, from the rich to the poor, they strike fear into the heart of every citizen of Panem. Every child's nightmare is being picked for the Hunger Games. And this year, that nightmare has come true.

You've made it past the interviews, the parade, and the training. Now you're in the final room, with the last people you'll see that aren't trying to kill you. They're dressing you up in tennis shoes, shorts, a simple shirt, and a light jacket, trying to make you "ready" for what's about to come.




District Five Female - @LZPianogirl
District Eight Male - @Plume
District Seven Female - @Valkyria
District Three Male - @HarryHardy
District Twelve Male - @MaxaM
District Ten Male - @Elfboy
District Four Female - @Vil

Another role can be added if requested.

Please use this as a basic form for your character:

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b] (Between 12-18 if Tribute)
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]District:[/b]
[b]Volunteered or Reaped:[/b]

[b]Appearance:[/b]

[b]Personality:[/b]
     [b]-Strengths:[/b]
     [b]-Weaknesses:[/b]

[b]Weapon/Strategy of Choice:[/b]

[b]History:[/b]

[b]Other:[/b]

Alright, I can't wait to see your characters and start this!

"Are you sure about this?" Sylvia said, looking in the mirror across the room. She was standing on the platform, waiting to be lifted up into the games, next to her stylist. They were standing in the cold, grey room underneath the arena. It had a table, some chairs, and a mirror on the opposite side of the platform. Sylvia had been brought there by hovercraft, given a tracking device, and rushed into the room.

"Honey, you can't be sure of anything here," Proteus chuckled and crossed his arms, "It is hideous, but it is the outfit they gave us."

Sylvia was wearing a white shirt with tan cargo shorts and a dark green jacket. Her shoes were brand new running shoes, "Totally hideous."

Sylvia and Proteus stood in silence for a moment. Sylvia was pre-occupying herself with looking at the outfit, trying not to think of the games.

"Do you remember what your mentor taught you?" Proteus asked.

"I'd rather not think about it," Sylvia replied, "I've only got a couple more minutes down here anyways."

Proteus rolled his eyes, then suddenly walked over to his bag, "You forgot something."

"I forgot something?" Sylvia said, "What?"

"Your ring, of course," Proteus held up a tiny bronze ring, "The one your older brother gave you! I can't believe we nearly forgot it."

"It was my younger brother," Proteus dropped the ring into Sylvia's waiting hand, "Thank you."

"Your welcome," Proteus smiled, "Now, honey, you need to g-"

Proteus was cut off by a loud siren and the platform closed around Sylvia. She spun around, confirming she was totally trapped in, then pressed her hands against the glass as the platform started to rise, "Proteus, help me!"

Proteus responded with a long, inaudible sentence that Sylvia responded with a loud, "What?!"

He cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled back a barely audible, "I said you have to get a k-." The platform moved above the room and Proteus disappeared from Sylvia's view. She was surrounded by metal, and the metal seemed to continue until the surface. It was hot and humid, but Sylvia couldn't tell if it was because she was in a metal tube or it was the climate of the arena.

Finally, she emerged from the dark of the tube and got her first look at the arena. There was a small mountain range right in front of her, which she assumed was North, and a lake about fifty meters behind her. Past the plants behind the lake, Sylvia swore she could see some water, but she couldn't be sure.

Sylvia glanced back at the cornucopia and the countdown. Thirty-eight seconds left until the bloodbath.

Devony shivered in the grey room, although it wasn't from the cold. She folded her arms tightly. Her stylist, hunched over the table, finished hemming the green jacket and walked toward her.

"Dear, if you continue standing in that position, your arms will break if anyone tries to move them," Julius said, smiling. Devony smiled a little and allowed Julius to put on her jacket for her. "Now, this is a nice outfit. You're able to move comfortably, right?"

"Yeah," Devony said. "I do like the color."

"And the shoes are perfect for you!" he added. "They fit your athletics. And I managed to add grips on the soles, so you can climb trees freely."

Devony looked down and noticed tiny, see-through pads on the soles. "Oh, Julius, they're perfect!" She threw her arms around him. "Thank you! The first good news I've received all day."

His smile faltered, and he kissed her forehead. "You're going to be alright," he said. "I'm looking out for you."

Devony's breath hitched, and she clutched Julius tighter. Tears formed, and she stifled a sob.

"I'm so scared," she whispered. "I don't want to do this. Why can't I go home?"

Julius shushed her. "I know you do. The moment we spoke, I didn't want you to do this. But, remember what your mentor told you."

Devony could hear Brienne as if her mentor was in the room with them:

Don't give them any reason to kill you. Stay silent, run, and don't make friends with the other tributes.

Devony could do the last one easily enough. She wasn't planning to make allies.

Go solo, and win. Go home, and live the rest of your days in peace.

Julius led her to the platform.

"You got a five on your test," he said. "You're not a threat. Just survive. And when you win, we're all going to have a fantastic dinner!"

She laughed and kissed his cheek. "Goodbye, Julius. I'll see you yet."

The platform closed, and it lifted her up into the arena.

This time, she couldn't stop herself. She cried silently, but she spotted a small backpack ten feet in front of her. Devony continued crying, but a plan formed in her head.

Quen's leg was hurting.

Of course, there was hardly a day that went by when it didn't pain him. Even with his cane, it always seemed to twinge at the worst moments, usually when he was stressed. It was probably his greatest shortcoming as a tribute; the judges certainly seemed to think so, as he ended up with a score of 7, despite his scythe swinging. His mentor had thought he'd get at least a 9.

"Here you are, love." His stylist, Jel, approached, shoe in their hand. "I found the right size."

Quen sighed. Another perk of the injury. Having two different-sized feet.

"Thanks, Jel," he replied.

"Anything for my favorite tribute." Jel knelt in front of him. "Up."

Quen lifted his leg, obliging Jel's command. "Hey, Jel?"

"Mm?" Jel grunted, struggling to put the shoe on Quen's foot.

"Do you think the jacket comes in pink?"

Jel rose, having finished tying Quen's shoes with a triple knot. They grinned. "Probably not, love."

Quen grinned grudgingly. "Thought so. Eh, it was worth a try."

Smiling, Jel fussed with the front of his jacket. "You do pull it off marvelously, despite the color."

"I know." Quen mustered enough charisma to give one of his winning smiles, the kind that had so endeared him to the audience after the interviews. The smile was his weapon. He heard his mentor echo in his ears. Gain the people's love, and you're set.

Quen's leg twinged again, a mark of the anxiety he felt inside. "Hey, Jel?" He tried to keep the quaver out of his voice.

"Yes, love?" Jel gave one last tug on the front of the jacket.

"Thank you."

Jel seemed to stop for a few moments, frozen in time. Then their eyebrows creased. "For what, love?"

"Everything." Quen pulled Jel into a hug. They weren't Kourak, but they would have to do. As far as he knew, they would be his last hug. Ever.

"Right." Jel smiled, and Quen thought he could see their eyes moistening. "You're all set. Good luck."

"My luck is always good," Quen replied, already fading into the character he appeared to be. Cocksure, funny. Somehow relatable and larger than life at the same time. It was a myth the Capitol believed, and if he wanted to survive, he'd have to believe it too.

"Of course, love," Jel said. Quen could see the tear leave their eye, bringing their fuchsia eyeliner with it.

His leg gave one final twitch as the platform ascended, a prophet of all the doom ahead of him. District 9 always seemed to go down during the bloodbath; it was supported by statistics. But Quen was never one for numbers, not even as he watched the timer count down. He had twenty two seconds before he wandered away into the trees behind him, and he intended to spend them all thinking about how much he enjoyed life.

In a small room somewhere, with only a couple of chairs, a mirror, a table, and a platform, there were two people with clearly distinct airs about them.
One was a young man probably around his mid-twenties wearing a fancy suit and a ton of make-up, he was walking from one side of the room to the other talking in an agitated tone with the other person, mostly reprimanding his attitude and trying to get him excited for what is to come, or at the very least frightened.
Now, the other person in the room was a teenage boy that seemed to be on his sixteen's, he was wearing a brown leather overall over a plain white shirt and a pair of military boots to top it off.
He was sitting calmly on the platform, his composure was a sharp contrast with the agitated man, and since he was with his eyes closed, one who just walked in without any context could think that he was sleeping through the guy's rant.
But this was the Hunger Game's preparation room, there was no way a sane person could do that.
"Look, if you keep things up like that, you're just going to die, Sengoku! The tributes think you are an easy target, and you didn't interest many sponsors, do you have any idea of the danger you are in?"
"Shouldn't you be encouraging me at a time like this?"
Sengoku answered with another question, his tone was friendly, but carried a melancholy with it, but it was not necessarily because of the death game he was jumping into, it was just his natural voice.
If he had to be honest, he was more worried about how he looked in the overall, his designer made an effort to make it baggier in the places that triggered his dysphoria the most, but he couldn't help but feel anxious and overwhelmed about how it looked.
He chuckled,
That's some mixed priorities alright.
"I'm sorry, but I just can't find it in me to support your mindset."
"Makes sense. To be honest, I would prefer if you sponsored someone else, there's probably some kid here that must need support more than me."
The man sat at one of the chairs and sighed deeply.
"Look, Sengoku, dear, I can understand if you don't want to live for yourself, but couldn't you at least try your best to stay alive for the people who want you to survive?"
"What do you think I was doing until today, Kai? Don't worry, I don't intend to just go and die, if I end up a corpse, there will be a good reason for it, that much I can assure you."
He was trying to reassure his stylist and make him at ease more than anything,
Honestly, if anything, Sengoku was hoping to die. But since there were people worrying about him back "home", and even people who would be rooting for him, he couldn't just get himself killed right of the bat, there had to be a scene worth dying. Until then, he would just have to drag himself from day to day, there wouldn't be much of a change in that aspect, and if anything, the woods would probably be more comfortable then his bed over at district 12.
"Look, I'll be rooting for you, Sengoku, you better not let me down."
"You know, that doesn't sound very frightening, since if I did that, I wouldn't even be here anymore ."
Sengoku chuckled.
And then, like it was planned from the very beginning, at the moment those last words came out of his mouth, the platform closed around him and started ascending at a somewhat regular speed,
This ride probably would be the most frightening moment in most of the tribute's lifes, the slow ascension to their own deaths, but to Sengoku, it was soothing.
It was the beginning of his final act.

Arden stood with his arms crossed on the platform, waiting quietly as Alexandra, his stylist, fussed over his outfit. Tugging at his sleeves, smoothing his jacket, and futilely attempting to tame Arden's wild hair, Alexandra chattered nervously. "This outfit is foul, simply foul. What kind of foolheaded novice designed it anyway? I mean, really, shorts? And this color-- dreadful! Why would anyone in their right mind--"

"It's fine, Alex." Arden said briskly, gently pushing her away. "I look fine. You've done everything for me you could. Now it's out of your hands. Okay?"

Alexandra paused, looking sad as she checked him one last time. She sighed. "I know. I just want you to win, Arden. I want you to try." She looked him directly in the eyes. "You could win, you know."

Arden gave a faint smile. "Thank you, Alex. But we both know I won't. I never was going to. You saw my score."

"Yes, but I also happen to know you weren't trying. You told me so before training even began. Whatever your mentor thinks of you, I know what you're capable of. Do it for me, okay?"

Arden smiled sadly, looking down. He opened his mouth to speak, but froze instead. After a moment of stillness, he broke, leaning forward to hug his stylist. "I'm sorry, Alex. I'm not going to win. I don't want to."

The moment was split by a blaring alarm, forcing Arden to quickly remount his platform. Alexandra reached for her bag, pulling out a small object in her fist. "Wait!" she cried as she ran to Arden's platform, "your token! Don't forget it!" She passed him the item, a small, plain wooden cross on a simple rope. Before she released it to him, she looked Arden in the eyes one last time. "You can win, Arden. It's all up to you now."

The platform began to move slowly upward as the glass tube closed in around him. Arden shook his head as he carefully put the cross around his neck, beneath his shirt. "No," he looked up the long tube before him, "it's up to them."

As he slid up the pipe into the light, Arden felt the air around him grow warmer and more humid. Which was unfortunate, because Arden had always detested the heat, faring better in colder climates. But he would make do, because Arden wasn't here for comfort.

He was here to die.

Kate was trying very hard not to cry. Come on Kate. You're better than this. You need to be strong. People have to believe you can win if you want to win. Kate ran this manthra through her head for the hundredth time that day.

Her stylist was busy adding the final touches to her clothes, complaining about how a seventeen year old was able to fit into a twelve year old's outfit. 'Honestly child, you look like one of those district twelve beggars' had been Anna, her stylist's, favorite phrase during all the times that she'd had to be fitted up for an outfit.

Kate took one last look around possibly the last room that she would ever see. Just a cold and bare room, stocked with a simple table, some chairs and a mirror. She was reminded of her room. This sorry excuse for furniture could barely compete with what he parents had provided back home. Yet somehow, this felt right. As if at a stage like this in life, luxury was just wrong somehow.

She focused on the mirror. Is that the last mirror I will ever see? No. No. No. I have to get back. For Daisy and Jasmine. Two flowers that were yet to bloom. They would be devastated. No I won't ever let them be alone like that. I have to win. Even if it means I have to become her. Kate shuddered as she remembered "her very mean roommate" as liked to call the rage that overcame her when she was threatened.

"Darling, don't frown so much. You're going to get wrinkles," remarked Anna, standing up from fixing her shoes and putting a hand on Kate's shoulder.

Kate looked away from the mirror, and tried for a small smile. "Who knows if I'll live long enough to worry about wrinkles?"

"Kate, Kate, Kate, darling don't talk like that," said Anna," you have so much to live for. Don't give it up. Remember who's waiting for their big sister to come home."

"That is the one reason I am not a mess right now," said Kate," but it's just overwhelming. How is little ol' me going to survive against all those people?"

"Oh don't put yourself down Kate, I know for a fact that the only reason you got yourself a seven was because you wanted to stay in the middle of the pack so that you won't become a target and go unnoticed."

Kate raised her eyebrows.

"I talked to your mentor the other day."

"Ohh...well Shania said that if I get too low of a score they'll hunt me and if its too high they'll try to team up against me so she said the best thing was to try and get in the middle."

"I know darling and that was a very smart idea. That along with your interview will make sure that you will win. Everyone loves you right now."

"And why would that be?" asked Kate.

"Come on darling, don't tell me Shania never told you," said Anna," taking a step back," they love your story. A story of a sister repaying a debt. Someone who volunteered in place of a 12 year old, a 12 year old she promised to take care off for someone who died in the games. Can you imagine the story they can tell there?"

"But..." began Kate.

"No buts...you know that for all the 'may the odds ever be in your favor' and all this talk of the 'toughest' and 'strongest' surviving the games, that is all bs. What are the games at their core?"

"A display of the capitol's power."

"That's the textbook answer darling. What is it really?" prompted Anna.

"A TV show?" said Kate uncertainly.

"Exactly. This is reality TV. And who usually wins those shows?"

"The one that the producers think will give them the highest ratings," replied Kate, understanding dawning on her.

"Correct, darling, all you have to do is win over the people," advised Anna," not the game. You already have a massive head start in that because of your story. Its the sort of ending people go crazy for. The girl who survived to pay off a debt and look after her sister. That's the kind of story the people want, your job is to keep that story alive and then the gamemakers will keep you alive. Remember no one kills of the character that makes them money."

"But that's so..."

"...cruel, unfair. Yaa kiddo. Welcome to the Hunger Games."

Kate let out a sigh. This was going to be far worse than she had imagined.

"Hey relax darling. Just do as your mentor said and stay alive if possible. We're all going to be rooting for you," said Anna with a smile.

"I'll try. I don't know how I can just watch people die though. I mean that little girl from District 10. How can I ever watch that poor girl die? She looks so much like my sister."

"Some sacrifices need to be made Kate. Just do as Shania said, grab what you want, I know you're faster than any of them, you'll get there first, and then just leave. And don't loose control."

"I really hope I don't," said Kate, eyebrows furrowing in worry," I don't even want to think about what might happen. It's so hard to control."

"You'll do fine darling. Just stay away as much as you can and remember to find water. That has to be your first priority when you get out of the bloodbath at the start."

"I'll do my best. I will get back to my sisters," recited Kate out loud.

"That's the spirit darling. Now go get 'em."

Kate gave her a smile and opened her arms. Anna immediately understood, engulfing the girl in a hug and patting her on the back.

"Don't lose your token, it will help you stay in control."

Kate's hand immediately went to the tiny locket in her pocket. It felt cool to the touch. She ran her hand over the design engraved on the cover. A dragon. Her sister and her foster sister, no her sisters' favorite mythical creature and naturally her's too. Inside there were four tiny links of chain. The first pieces that they'd all ever forged. Daisy, Jasmine, Charlotte and her. A tear leaked out at that. The memories of Charlotte were too painful especially standing on a platform very similar to the one that had taken Charlotte to her doom.

"That's supposed to make you happy, you know?" asked Anna.

"It does. It's just...I can never forget here. What must have been running through her head that day? Did she think about her sister just like I am now? My mind will never leave it alone."

Anna stepped out of the hug and looked at Kate once more.

"Darling, you're fighting for her too. I know you'll keep her promise Kate. Fight for all three of them and come out alive," said Anna," remember to..."

She was cut off abruptly as an alarm blared around them, causing both of them to jump.

"Good Luck, darling, remember who yo..." Anna was cut off as the tube closed around her. Kate gave the woman one final smile and small wave before closing her eyes.



"Please come back to me," stuttered a nearly hysterical Daisy, clutching her older sister tightly.

"You promised that you will keep me safe," added Jasmine, not much better off than Daisy. " You have to come back."

Seconds later they were being escorted out, their time over.

"I will get back to you now matter what," promised and equally weepy Kate," as she memorized the faces of her two sisters one last time.



As Kate opened her eyes, she saw the countdown, flashing 27 seconds left. They were on some sort of tropical island setting. She ran a finger along the locket in her pocket once more even as her eyes began to look for a trident. She wiped away the tears that threatened to fall.

I will not let you down Charlotte. I won't. I will fight for both our sisters.

The clock continued ticking down. Ten. Nine. Eight. It seemed like the clock was taking an eternity to count down. Sylvia was sure it was taking a long time for the other tributes, too, and her family back home. Her family. She hadn't thought about them in forever. Her parents were probably crying, glued to the television. Her brothers were probably making bets.

Three. Two. One. Zero. Sylvia bolted off the platform towards the cornucopia. Kids were running past her, grabbing things off the ground, and running away in the opposite directions. To her left, a boy screeched and fell to the ground, dead. Sylvia didn't stop running until she was a couple yards from the Cornucopia, right in between the platforms and the actual cornucopia. Quickly, she grabbed everything she could find. An empty water bottle, a satchal, and some throwing knives. Sylvia stuffed most of her belongings into the bag, but kept one of the knives in her hand, and ran to the left of the mountains.

Sylvia ran past the cornucopia and nearly made it past the platforms before she felt something tug at her satchel. She swiftly turned to her left to see a a young woman (Sylvia thought it was the District 11 girl), with her bag in both of her hands.

"Hey!" Sylvia exclaimed. The girl released the bag and started running towards the base of the mountain, "Oh, no you don't!"

Sylvia chased after the girl, who had just passed the platforms. She was around fifteen, maybe twenty feet away. Sylvia slowly realized that, if Sylvia sped up, the girl was within accurate throwing distance. She switched the knife to her right hand and stopped about ten feet away from the girl. Quickly, before the girl could run more than twenty feet away, Sylvia aimed, wound back her arm, and threw the knife forward.

The girl screamed and fell to the ground. The knife had lodged itself right in the back of her neck. She wasn't dead, but she would be soon, unless she bandaged the wound. Sylvia jogged past the girl, but when she saw her start to push herself up, she decided to finish the job. Sylvia pulled the knife out of the girl's neck and the girl started to scream again. Sylvia placed her spare hand over her mouth, not knowing what allies the girl had, and stabbed her twice in the abdomen.

The girl fell to the ground and crouched into a ball. Sylvia wiped the knife on the inside of her jacket and kept on running. What would her mother think of her? Her poor, poor mother. Of course, she wouldn't find out for another half an hour, when the game makers actually counted the deaths and played the footage, but now she had to live with her daughter being a murderer. That was punishable by death in the district! Yet, Sylvia figured, she would die anyways and get the same punishment as every other murderer.

Sylvia continued running until she reached a secluded spot near a river. It was damp, muddy, and humid, but it would have to do. She pulled her satchel over her shoulders and opened it, revealing the contents. Some matches, a loaf of bread, some rope, and a blanket. Sylvia groaned, how was she going to get fresh water now?

The clock ticked down to its final ten seconds. Devony wiped the tears away and focused on the ground. She felt eyes on her, and she looked up. Darius, the other District Seven tribute, gave her a small nod.

Stay calm, his voice whispered in her head, their last night in the Capital. Easy for him to say. Darius could stay cool under pressure. He scored a seven on the test. He'd be safe for a while. She nodded back. Five more seconds. Devony took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes.

The clock hit zero, and Devony leaped off the platform, somersaulting when she hit the ground. She grabbed the edge of the backpack and slung it over her shoulder, running toward the Cornucopia. Kids fell dead. She spotted Darius picking a knife out of a dead boy. Cannons boomed, one after the other.

The District Two girl threw a knife at her, and Devony gasped. She flattened herself to the ground as the knife flew over her head. She grabbed the knife, but she didn't move.

Devony sat on the ground in a running position, absolutely terrified. The action moved around her in a blur. Once again, Devony was invisible.

"Devony, move!" Darius shouted. He was standing on the edge, fighting the District Four boy. He knocked him out with his sword. "You're stronger than you know. Use your strengths." Darius ran into the trees.

Devony stared after him and took a deep breath. She stood up, gripping the knife. She was going to survive the bloodbath. She ran to the mouth of the Cornucopia, hopping over the body of the District Eight girl. Devony grabbed a coil of rope and a blanket and jumped on Garet's back, jumping onto the roof.

The District One boy shouted in surprise, but Devony was running again. She leaped onto the closest tree, climbing up onto a thick branch. She jumped from one branch to another, gaining speed as she headed toward the mountain.

She felt alive. Her blood pumped, and her muscles soared. This was her element.

When she was far away from the Cornucopia, Devony sat down on a big branch. The ground below was covered by the vines and leaves. She was well hidden. She opened the bag:

A filter, glasses, crackers, a poncho, and candles with matches. The filter was useful; there was a small stream below her. But the glasses was a mystery.

Quen studied his surroundings as the clock ticked down. There was no way in hell he could make it to the Cornucopia without dying; his leg wouldn't allow him to run fast enough. Right now, his best bet was to go into the woods behind him, fashion a cane out of a tree branch, and try his best to gain the audience's support.

The timer reached zero and the arena was a flurry of movement. The sound of bodies hitting the ground followed by cannons sounded behind him as he made his way through the trees, stumbling. The Capitol hadn't allowed him to take his cane into the arena, for fear that it could be used as a weapon. He could see their reasoning, but still found the decision unfair. It put him at a disadvantage.

Quen winced as he heard screams behind him. He blocked them out as he limped further into the woods. Now, his main concern was fashioning a cane so he would be able to walk properly (or as well as he could, at any rate).

There were branches everywhere. The only problem is that they were still attached to trees. Trees that grew much to high for Quen to reach easily.

He sighed, venturing further into the woods. It would be good to find a source of water, too. Finding food would also be problematic, but it wasn't like he hadn't gone hungry before.

Soon, the sounds of death faded completely from his hearing and were replaced with the gentle noises one would expect the woods to have. Quen, however, was still on edge. He wasn't used to this amount and density of trees, having grown up in the gentle plains and seas of grain of District 9.

He eventually found a long stick that would do in a pinch for a cane; it wasn't as good as his old one, which Kourak had lovingly whittled for him, but it was enough.

Quen sank to the base of a tree, placing his makeshift cane beside him. He was too tired to find water today. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Imminent death will do that to you, he thought. It really messes up a guy's sleep schedule, doesn't it?

He was just settling down when a crack sounded from behind him. His eyes shot open. He'd learned that it was normal for the woods to occasionally make noise, but this didn't sound like the woods. This sounded like something else. Something sinister.

He held his breath as he turned, expecting to see an animal, teeth covered in frothy saliva. Perhaps the blade of a knife or the head of an arrow, the glint of which would be his final sight as they pierced his skull.

Instead, he was met with eyes that were just as frightened as his.

As Arden's eyes adjusted to the light, he tried to quickly get a sense of his surroundings, turning in a quick circle as the clock counted down. Ten. Trees all around Arden, a lake across the cornucopia from him, and a mountain range behind him. Nine. The nearest trees were a few hundred yards behind Arden, in the direction of the mountains. Eight. He would run that way as soon as the clock ran out, having no interest in joining the bloodbath.

Seven. He turned his attention to the other tributes. To my right was Belinda, the girl from my district, who I'd never met before the games. Arden tried to make eye contact, which she caught breifly, but her gaze quickly returned to a belt of knives toward the center of the cornucopia. Six. Past her were the district nine kids, Quentin and a girl who's name Arden didn't know. Quentin had a limp, but that was all he knew about the boy. Gauging by the way he stared at the treeline, he seemed to share Arden's plan of fleeing.

Five. He wouldn't have time to analyse ever tribute, so he quickly scanned the rest he could see to his right, none of whom caught Arden's gaze, so he turned his attention to his left. Four. Next to Quentin were the district eleven tributes, Jackson and Tracy. Jackson gave him a dour look, and Tracy ignored him. Next to them was the district twelve girl, whom he didn't know, and... Ah yes. Sengoku.

Arden locked eyes with the boy. Sengoku was promising. He'd been one of the only tributes besides Arden who seemed disinterested in winning the games. Three. He didn't look away. This boy could be a potential ally. Having a friend would keep Arden's head in the game. Two. Arden nodded at Sengoku before returning his gaze to the treeline, rearing up to bolt. One. Everything depended on speed. Arden cleared his mind, preparing to ignore any distractions that would arise. All he had to do was keep mov--

[i]Zero.[i] Arden broke out in an intense run almost before the word had ended. His periphery blurred as he focused only on getting to those trees. Running was his strongsuit, so he wasn't too worried, but so much could go wrong. He only prayed that none of the other tributes were good shots.

His heart pounding and his adrenaline palpable, Arden tried to block out the sounds behind him. The screaming was bad enough, but what was worse were the wet, sickly sounds of wounds, stabbings, blood, gore-- He tried not to imagine it. He knew each of those sounds meant one less competitor, but still, knowing people, kids no less, were dying all around him-- It made him want to wretch.

He shut it out of his mind as he breached the trees. [i]You'll have to be a lot tougher than that if you want to survive these games.[i] This wasn't going to be the only death he would witness in the coming days-- nor would it be the grimmest. He willed himself not to think about it, but he could still feel the pain, the death, the suffering, as it all filled the air. Moisture crept to the edges Arden's eyes as he ran deeper and deeper into the wood.

Kate focused on the cornucopia. That would form the base of her plans for the next ten minutes where all hell was going to break loose. Where is that darn trident? They always have one of those at the games.

The clock continued to count down. Fifteen, Fourteen...

She looked past the weapons arrayed around the front and into the heart of the cornucopia. That's when she spotted a bright gleam of silver. The weapon that she had been looking for, propped against the wall right in the center of all the rest of the equipment. Of course they have to put it in the most dangerous spot possible. She risked another glance at the time left.

Nine seconds left.

She looked around for a good looking escape route. She could see several people eying up openings in the trees to the North of the cornucopia which meant that was a no go. She'd have to go in the opposite direction, away from people. And away from any chance of her coming out. Shuddering at the thought, she took a quick look behind her to spot a nice opening in the trees. Perfect. All I need to do is grab that supply bag in front of me on the way back and I should be fine as long as I can find some water. She looked at the clock one last time.

Three seconds left.

It was time to do or die. She did her best to block out the ache in her heart as her memories flooded with the footage of Charlotte in the exact same position, off to start a game she would never complete. Get the trident. Grab the bag. Get out. She repeated the mantra in her head as the clock finally reached zero.

She exploded off the platform, her legs carrying her faster than she had ever gone before. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, cycling all over her like electricity, powering her forward. The periphery blurred out as her vision focused entirely on the trident, the one thing that she was going to absolutely require if she was to get through the games.

Without looking back, she reached the heart of the cornucopia where she slid to a stop. She wiped her now sweaty hands on her sleeve and grabbed the trident, the familiar weight giving her a rush of satisfaction. There was no grip, she would have to fashion something out of her clothes or else it was going to slip when she tried to use it.

She turned around, hoping to find a path through the other children behind her. As her senses refocused on the surroundings she could the cries of pain as several kids were cut down and others wrestled for items. She saw her opening and took off, dodging the Careers making their way to the supplies. She was going to have to be careful around them. District 3 was not a district that was looked upon kindly by them. She could easily end up dead or worse: having to help them. She'd noticed more than a couple of them following her progress in the survival skills and food identification areas.

She made it almost to the outer ring of backpacks when it happened.

"Hey three, care to join the winning side?" came a harsh voice from behind her. She kept running but ran into a solid wall of muscle: The District one male tribute.

"What's the hurry three?" said the boy," you got a train to catch?" He proceeded to laugh at his own joke. She turned to see three others approaching, all sporting various smiles. She recognized the two district two tributes and someone that she could faintly place as the district five male.

"I'd rather not join the likes of you," she said, keeping her voice even and taking deep breaths. Don't lose it. Don't lose it Kate. Come on you can control it. No one has to die. Talk your way out.

"You chose death then," said the district two girl, taking a step closer," Kailen did warn us that you would be useless."

Kate's blood boiled at that. Well someone is clearly taking the fact that only one can win very seriously. And to think I tried to talk up the moron's abilities in the interview

"If you'll excuse me, I can just leave two. You don't get to decide what I do," said Kate.

"I don't think you're getting away quite that easily three," said the girl stepping closer, knife drawn. The other district two tribute also stepped forward, this one clutching a short sword.

Kate's breathing started to get faster. It was happening. She gripped her trident tighter and prepared to knock them out before anything could happen.

The boy charged, swinging his sword and Kate sidestepped, letting the boy's momentum carry him forward before she kicked him in the back, sending him tumbling, The girl lunged at her, stabbing towards her neck. Kate brought up her trident deflecting the knife with the blades and rolling to the left. She could sense the boy coming up behind her and she ducked, a blade passing inches above her face. She moved to the left, twirling to meet her two opponents. She gripped her trident at the center swinging it around like a staff to parry both weapons.

Kate took a couple of steps back, her breathing really starting to get faster now. She could feel her mind slowly starting to be taken over. If this goes on any longer it will be too late. She let her hands slide down the trident till she was gripping it near the bottom of the handle. Then she swung it outwards in a wide arc, swinging high and getting them to back off. She took a step forward, again swinging high, but this time she changed direction mid-air, using the momentum of the trident to swing it towards the girl's head. The flat of the blades slammed into the side of her head and she collapsed like a sack of potatoes.

"You'll pay for that three," shouted the boy and swung with renewed force, this time attacking much faster. Kate was a little slower to raise her trident and the sword grazed her forearm leaving a shallow cut. That was the last straw. She could feel it coming over her now and there was no stopping it. She had to move fast.

She sidestepped another couple of thrusts from the sword and managed to regain control on the trident. Then she raised it but almost dropped it is a spike of pain erupted from her shoulder. She whipped around. The district one boy smirked at her, bloody knife raised. In the back. Oh no you don't. Kavita no you can't. Oh yes I can Kate. Stay out of this girl.

Wrestling for control of her mind, Kate jumped forward, bringing her trident up to meet another thrust by the sword. This time she managed to catch it between two of the blades. She twisted, managing to wrench the sword out of the boy's grasp. And now we kill...no we don't, go back to sleep. Her hands started to move down, Kate gritted her teeth and managed to turn them around at the last second, and the blunt handle whacked into the boy's head, knocking him out instantly.

"Leave...m..eeee...alone," said Kate, gritting her teeth as she turned around.

"Not so fast three," said the two boys, both of them readying their knives.

"Have it your way," said Kate. We get to keeel them...No Kavita, you are not going to do anything. Oh yes we are girl. Yes we are. And you are going to watch. Kate let out a frustrated scream and tried to take a step back. Nothing happened. She was no longer in control.

District five threw his knife. Kate felt her hands move up to intercept, the knife clattering uselessly to the floor as it met the trident. Her legs attempted to move forward and she fought the urge, ending up stumbling forward like a drunk person. The District one boy charged at her and Kate could only watch as her hands moved on their own and her trident was thrust forward, making its way straight through the boy in front of her and impaling the one behind him at the same time.

Warm blood flowed down to her hands. Oh no. I just killed them. I did that. This can't be happening. Oh yes we did, didn't we girl? Kavita, shut up...you are not in control. The shock from her current situation allowed Kate to regain control and she pulled out the trident, stumbling back.

She regained control of her body, Kavita receding back into the dark corners of her mind as the threat to her life was dealt with. She stumbled forward, wiping her hands on her trouser, leaving a bright red stain on her clothes. She was horrified. Oh no. What's Jasmine and Daisy going to think of me? She could feel hot tears run down her cheeks as the grabbed the backpack that she'd been running towards and ran off into the woods.

Water. Must find water

Horne Scrymgyor sighed as he moved the teen's hair out of her face for the millionth time. He was an older man, almost sixty or seventy years old, with kind, wise eyes.
"I mean it, Cress, when I say that you need to look your best at all times, you hear?" His thicker accent was not that of the Capitol, but rather his old home in District Three. Horne's graying black hair was natural, unlike Cress's silver locks. "I know you got a low score, Cress--"
"A five isn't that bad."
"--but you can still win this thing."
Cress sighed and shook her head. "That isn't my goal, Horne. You know that."
"Yes... but it makes no sense that you'd focus on one kind of Tribute."
"It does to me," she replied.
Horne shook his head. "Winthrop knows you could have done better. Hell, the entire Capital does."
Cress ignored his remarks and gave the old man one last hug before returning to her standing point. "When I don't come back--"
"You will come back."
"You don't know that, Horne."
The old mna shook his head. "I'll send you something if your mentor will let me."
Their eyes met one last time before the platform closed around her. She mouthed the word "goodbye" to the old man, who offered her one last kind smile...
As the darkness surrounded her, Cress took a few moments to think about what had happened since she'd left home. From the reaping, to the train ride, to her time to the Capitol, Cress had simultaneously enjoyed and hated every moment.
But her decisions had a purpose.
She'd made her intentions clear, and that had made her a target among Careers. There were fewer this year, though-- like her, so many people had volunteered, though for other reasons than making sure the rules were followed. Cress was only here to dot the i's, cross the t's, and then die via whatever the other Tributes thought best.
The light blinded her for a moment as she thought about how best to defeat the Careers. Frankly, most everyone would likely make a go at the Cornucopia, as they did every year. Looking around, she saw mountains to one side and a lake to the other, the tropics all around. She'd need to stay near the lake as it was likely the best source of--
Suddenly, the timer hit zero, and everyone else was already running to and fro. Some kid was limping towards the forest, many heading for the Cornucopia. Cress's instincts kicked in, and she started to run-- running fast, like the wind, towards the mountains in the distance, hair like a silver wisp, figure like a moving shadow.
As she started dashing through the tropics, she was not careful where she stepped-- until a dark realization hit her.
One wrong move, and her plan could fail before it even began.
One wrong move, and Cress Pacifica Dawnville, the female Tribute from District Four, would be dead.
And so, Cress started to slow her pace and became more careful, more observant. She was quiet, and then decided to double back. Cress had no idea if she'd been followed. If she had, and they already had a weapon--
She pushed away the thought. For now, she needed to stay alive. Alive was better than dead, after all.
Some time later, Cress was using a sharp rock as a makeshift knife. She'd found a sturdy ashwood pole and was carving one end to a point. She could have, of course, simply made a slit in the wood and inserted a sharp stone. But the Careers needed to suffer, have time to think about what they'd done.
They deserved much worse for breaking the rules, though.
Satisfied her spear was sharp enough to kill, Cress cast the stone to the side and stood.
"Time to hunt," she said to no one.

In the calm of the night, as the tributes settled down to sleep, a part of the sky brightened, and the anthem of Panem started playing.

Some tributes, still shaken from the first day's events shot up, but others just looked up with grim expressions. The remaining careers grinned at each other, happy that tomorrow would bring more deaths, hopefully by their own hands.

As the anthem started, pictures of the dead tributes appeared in the sky, with their district number below them. It played in order of district numbers:

District One Male
District Two Female
District Five Male
District Eight Male
District Eight Female
District Eleven Female
District Twelve Male

As soon as the last tribute's picture appeared, the anthem finished, and the sky darkened, leaving stars behind. Some tributes silently grieved the death of the tributes from the same district as them, or the growing friendship and alliance of others.

Three Careers, together, growled at the sight of the two dead Careers. They would make their killers pay.

The tributes wondered how their parents were coping.The dead tributes' parents were probably wailing with grief, while the parents of tributes who were alive gripped each other with relief and fear.

The other tributes began counting the dead ones. Seventeen remained. Some tributes began to get teary-eyed. Sixteen other tributes to possibly kill them. And worse, four Careers remained. A few tributes sighed and laid back down. One tribute pulled the blanket over her as she laid on the branch. Others were spread over the ground, separated by trees and trees.

xXx

"Good evening citizens of Panem!" Aariz Willis exclaimed into the screen. It was time to go over the teens killed in the bloodbath, his favorite part.

"We've had quite the afternoon here in the arena," his co-host Harmony Novak said, reading off of a screen past the camera "There were seven deaths at the bloodbath today!"

"Seven! Wow! That's more than last year, when only four tributes were killed." Aariz declared, "Even more shocking, two career tributes were killed and one of the more promising tributes!" Aariz and Harmony could sense the tribute's parents gripping onto their chairs, crying.

"Let's start off with the first death, shall we?" Harmony asked, pressing a button on the table to start the screen behind them. The District Eleven girl's face appeared, "Miss. Tracy was our first death today after being stabbed multiple times by Sylvia, from District Five! What a shocker!"

A video of Tracy's murder was shown. Back at home, both Tracy and Sylvia's parents were in shock. Tracy had been expected to last to the very end and Sylvia had promised not to kill anyone unless they were threatening her. Aariz spoke over it, "Honestly, I didn't think Sylvia would kill anyone, especially over something like a bag! Her score was mediocre, she seemed so kind and meek during our interview, and she didn't seem like the strongest of girls-"

"-I totally agree-"

"-but, we were wrong! Just look at those throwing skills! That was at least a twenty foot gap between them and the knife landed right in Tracy's neck!"

"And look how well Sylvia knew where to stab her! She stabbed Tracy right in the abdomen, killing her moments after Sylvia fled!" Aariz nodded in agreement, "Now, onto the next death." And so it went. Aariz and Harmony would talk about each casualty for a little, play the footage, and then proceed to compliment the way they were killed. The seemed to dwell on the death of the District One and Five boys longer than anyone's, even both of the District Eight teens.

"Just look at that! Two tributes, including a Career, at once!" Aariz exclaimed, rewinding the clip of Kate spearing the boys from District One and Five numerous times, "And look how into it she seems! That is simply incredible."

"I wouldn't want to be the other careers right about now. I would be scared to high hell!" Harmony chuckled and Aariz agreed, "At least they're all spread out for now."

That was the end of Aariz and Harmony's commentary on the Bloodbath. The rest of the night was filled with them going over the footage of the Tributes running away and them getting settled in for bed.



Away from the capitol that same footage was being played back across screens across the districts.

There were several angles of the start of the initial bloodbath, several families breathed collective sighs of relief as they saw their children take off into the forest. They were the lucky ones. The others watched with baited breath as the predictable charge of the careers was joined by a few other tributes.

And then it all descended into chaos for several minutes, the camera angles barely able to keep up with the sheer number of kids running towards weapons, backpacks and in some cases running away from the careers. The district 12 tribute and both district eight tributes were among the first tributes to be killed off. Both their parents were watching with a resigned acceptance that had come from years of seeing countless repeats of the same as the much weaker district was targeted by the stronger careers as easy prey. They watched on, silent tears dripping down their faces as they watched their children take their final breaths.

Only around ten children remained in the cornucopia at that time. The parents of the careers were cheering them on, all enjoying the three kills their children had managed to rack up. The others left in the deadliest part of the arena were not quite as excited.

The biggest twist of the day came with the next tribute to fall, Tracy. Sylvia's parents were both relieved and horrified at the same time as their daughter became a killer on behalf of a backpack. They breathed a sigh of relief as she ran off into the woods but couldn't help but feel sorry for the child left to die a slow and painful death through multiple stabs to the abdomen.

The action then zoomed in on the other main confrontation. Watching with tears streaming down their eyes, Daisy and Jasmine clutched each other tightly as they watched their big sister being threatened by four tributes at once. They watched half in awe and half in terror as they watched Kate swing her trident around expertly fighting off two people at once and knocking them out of the fight. Kate's parents didn't even scold them for cursing the boy that attacked Kate from the back. Then came the moment where Kate, stumbling around impaled the trident through the two tributes at once. They cheered as their sister grabbed her pack and ran off into the jungle. She would live to fight another day.

The bloodbath continued for a while longer, the final highlight of the day being the district eight tribute charging the careers in a plot for revenge and talking out the still dizzy district two female. She was immediately dealt with by the district two male and her death marked the end of the excitement for the day as the careers and the district three tribute that had joined in with them gathered whatever supplies had been left behind.

The rest of it was played through quickly, all of its shots of various tributes finding places to settle for the night.

Sylvia looked around. Her shoes were at least two inches into the mud and she was surrounded by various types of bushes and other plants. In front of her was the second river she had crossed. It didn't look that deep and Sylvia bet she could get across it without getting her shirt wet. She couldn't see the ocean from the river, but she did have a feeling it was somewhere over the horizon with all the seabirds flying overhead.

She swiftly put everything back in her bag and stood. She would need to find a place to hide for the night and the only place she could think of were the mountains. There had to be a cave over there. Sylvia began walking, barefooted, on the very edge of the river. If there was anything she had learned by watching the past hunger games, it was that water covered up your tracks. She continued walking for what seemed like at least an hour or two before she came to the side of the mountain. She slowly took out one of her knives as she approached the entrance of the cave.

It was dark and she could hardly see anything. Sylvia reached down to the ground, grabbed a stick, and used one of her precious matches to light the end on fire. She stood in the entrance of the cave, peering into the vast darkness that the light of the fire did not cover.

"Who's there?" a harsh feminine voice growled. "A Career?"

Whoever she was, she was not yet visible-- maybe she was too far back in the cave. Sylvia gulped and crept forward.

"I- I'm not a Career. I'm from Dis- District Five!" Sylvia exclaimed into the darkness. She had a feeling she was being broadcasted all over Panem about now and the announcers were probably having a field day trying to decide what would happen.

A silver-haired girl came forward like a ghost, soundlessly stepping on the rock. She held a spear in her hands-- not loose enough to drop it, but not tight enough to appear threatened. "Name?"

"Sylvia D- Delmar Elliston," Sylvia held her hands above her head, still gripping her knife loosely, "Please don't hurt me."

"Put the knife on the ground, and I won't," Cress said, mind apparently made up already. "It's only the Careers I'm after."

"Alright," Sylvia dropped the knife on the ground and kicked it several feet in front of the girl, "Who are you?"

"Cress Dawnville, Career hunter," she replied, not taking her eyes off of Sylvia as she picked up the knife. "Nice to meet you, though I wish these weren't the circumstances."

"Me too," Sylvia mumbled, "Could you please put down that spear? It's making me uncomfortable."

"Oh?" Cress looked at her weapon as though she'd entirely fogotten about it. "Oh-- um, yes. Sorry about that." The District Three girl lowered her weapon.

"So..." Sylvia cautiously sat down and wrapped her arms around her legs. She didn't trust this girl, not yet, "You're from District Fo- Three, right? I've heard it's nice there."

"Yes..." Cress trailed off and looked past Sylvia. "You weren't followed were you?"

"No, I don't think so," Sylvia looked back out of the cave, as if she would be able to see anyone in the area, "I think that Arden boy ran over here, but I didn't see him after I killed tha-"

Sylvia quickly covered her mouth. No one would trust a killer. She sank her head in between her legs

"Which District was it?" she asked casually. "The one you killed."

Sylvia looked at the girl with a puzzled look on her face. She had killed someone. How could she ask that question in a normal way? "Uh, District Eleven, or something. It was the girl."

"Okay... That means there are still plenty of Careers to hunt down and punish." Cress moved to hand Sylvia her knife back.

Sylvia gratefully accepted the knife back, saying, "Do you want me to help you? I mean, I don't really have anything better to do."

"Don't see why not," the Three replied with a shrug. "The name's Cress, Cress Dawnville."

"Nice to meet you, Cress."

"Nice to meet you, too," the silver-haired girl replied. Smiling, she added, "Let's go hunting."