The 78th Annual Hunger Games

The 78th Annual Hunger Games

Author's Note
Welcome to my second Hunger Games. For these Games, I will not create a new series or whatsoever, and these games will not contain any special twist. Just like my first games, they will be games with one male and one female per district, and one victor.

The pre-reservations are over, and you can now start submitting your tributes into this fanfiction, altough make sure to follow the rules and have them to follow the proper template, otherwise he/she won't make it.

Nevertheless, this will be a project I've been slowly putting together in my mind, and once the games start, i urge you to follow along and leave a few comments after each day in real life, so i can know you're active.

Commenting every day is really important; as in my last games I felt as if no one cared sometimes, as only a few left me messages to continue, and only few commented when I didn't write on certain days. That being written loud and clear; this time i would like anyone involved with this games to follow along, and leave comment(s) every day.

Without further ado, i present you: The 78th Annual Hunger Games.

And may the odds be ever in your favor.

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District Zero: Dimitri Kerr
I wake up in cold sweat, screaming like a maniac and begging for Nitka to flee. I had the very same nightmare last night. And the night before it.

It takes a while for me to calm down completely, and when i do, i'm still sweating and breathing heavily. I just woke up and I already feel that today will be one of those days that will mark my life, my crazy and conturbed life. Today I will attend a reaping for a Hunger Games for the first time. For some reason, it feels weird to stop and think that I have only fifteen years. A lot of things happened during my life, and it all seems so long ago, well not too long.

When i was only eight-years-old, my sister Nitka died. Nitka died as a child during a bear attack, which unfortunately isn't an uncommon cause of death when you live in the gelid and depressing scenario of District 0. I survived, but was left with a large scar on my right cheek. After the bear attack, mom was all but done with life. She basically gave up on herself and life, leaving me to fend for myself since the incident.

She stopped to care about anything at the moment she knew of Nitka's death. It would've been scary to lose everything that matters to you in a blink of eyes, if I didn't have faith. But I never gave up. I held my head high and went with the flow. Although it didn't help me at all.

At school, i was left alone by everyone, save for the various occasions my teachers asked me if my mother was at the least still alive. When I was 11, I went to school and came back to find mom was dead. She had hung herself in a doorway. Desesperate and hungry, I survived by doing illegal fishing and eating with the kindest neighbors who felt bad for me. I continued to go to school and expanded my knowledge as far as I could, in order to provide myself with a better future.

Instead of feeling sorry for myself and vying to avenge my mother's suicide and my father's disappearance, I moved on and began to study to become a astrophysicist. I remember spending multiple nights staring out of the kitchen window, looking at the stars. one day I started to map all of the stars of the Milky Way and developed an obsession for studying the various constellations. I found strength in the promise i made myself, the promise that I would provide myself with a great future. As I grew up, I studied for countless hours, and became one of the most intelligent and well-valued students at school.

I wouldn't mind spending the rest of the day here studying, if it weren't for the Reaping later this morning.

I don't want to know who are going to be this year's tributes. The pair of children who is going to get a gruesome death from some bulky career. I don't approve this system, I do not approve this life. But there is no way to change that. You don't argue on top of something with the Capitol. You just put you head down and keep moving.

Fear fills my chest as i consider the possibility of my name being drained out of the Reaping Ball. Of course that is possible; in fact, my chances of getting reaped are very high. I think back, and remember the amount of tesserae i signed up for. Enough to give me a diet of grain and bread for a year. I quickly shrug any thoughts about the Hunger Games off my head. I'm not getting reaped. For now I shall content myself on getting to the District square.

I stand up and head for the door. I don't waste any of my valuable time, setting off down the streets as soon as i step out of my house. I push my way through the streets that are gradually getting more crowded as I get closer to the Reaping area, being careful not to bump into someone.

The square is buzzing with people and voices, and the snow crunches softly under my feet as I move. People over the age of eighteen are sorted onto the right side of the Square whilst everyone eligible to be reaped goes in the right, assuming their respective positions. After getting in line I get my blood taken, trying to avoid looking into the face of the Peacekeeper.

After she finishes, I get out of the line and assume my place in the 15-years-old section, glaring at the escort Bethunia Thorne. She's wrapped up into some sort of paper-like costume, and i assume she is trying to resemble an embalmed body. She is very quick while explaining how the Reaping will proceed, and wastes no time to say that it is now time to reap our tributes. Her hand goes into the girls' bowl and a name is plucked out.

"Alluria Nexus!"

She reads the name in dramatic fashion, and turns her gaze to the crowd. I spin around, my elbow smashing into a nearby boy's face, and after muttering a quick apology i turn around looking for the selected girl. I spot her moving in the fifteen year-olds line. She looks decidedly average, typical height, frightened expression and maybe possessing a little paler skin then most citizens'. Altough i draw all my atention to the girl's eyes. They're crimson-like, and i notice something inhuman radiating out of them. But apparently i'm the only one to notice, because everyone in the crowd just stares at the girl, humming to themselves.

I'm too far back to see the stage clearly but I can tell she's shaking Bethunia's hand, before she goes to pull out the boy's name.

"Dimitri Kerr!"

My breath catches in my throat and I stumble backwards. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. By the stares of everyone around me, I can tell that the shock I feel is evident of my face. No one in the crowd attempts to stop me as I push through them. I emerge from the fifteen-years-old section without much ceremony. I'm on the stage quickly, and shake Bethunia's hand before being placed next to Alluria.

I look out into the crowd. They're all staring ahead with varying expressions. Some are happy seeing that they have a decent tribute this year, and others seem to simply not care. It's not them on stage so why should they, right?

The Reapings go on as usual and I know that my fate is sealed. I will be going into the Hunger Games...and I will die.

District One: Marlene Amador
As I stand in the crowd assembled affront of the stage where two kids will soon be sent off to Games, I wonder if I am making the right choice. Should I be volunteering for the Hunger Games? Am I stupid for doing this? Maybe. But I don't see any other way of survival.

While I have a vague chance of surviving the Games, I do not have the slighest hope in surviving the life on the streets.

But I do not want to compete these Games because I am some bloodthirsty moron, just like all the scum surrounding me. I am volunteering for various reasons, but definetly not that one. I am volunteering for the Games to make my deceased father proud of what I did, of the warrior I have become in his honour.

And then i remember when my rapier dug into the soft flesh of his throat.

I shake my head as I remember. I always thought it was odd that he valued the Games more than his own daughters. I should have known there was a reason for that. He wanted the glory. He didn't want it, he needed it. And that's why I did it. I couldn't take it anymore. I was weak, and i was confused, so I didn't realize what I just done untill the rapier was pulled out of his throat.

I stop all those flashbacks and pay attention to what matters, the Reaping. Now I have to get my blood taken.

The Square that is so often empty is crowded with people as I walk down it. They're all gathered around something on the side of the path and I come to a stop, the others who also have come from the poorer regions of the District stop as well. A peacekeeper steps back from the group and waves a hand at us.

"Get movin'! Nothing to see in here'"

Everyone walks away, while I can't help but sigh. I don't even need to see what happened. What just happened is what happens every day in this District. Homicide.

It isn't uncommon to see people getting killed here. It is always caused for the same reasons. While most of the killing is caused by rebels, a huge part of it is caused by the morons form the Training Academy, trying to prove that they're better than each other.

I hate this place. I hate the people who run it and I hate the other girls here. I think I hate people in general, not that it matters.

I absentmindly get my blood taken, and stand in the corner of my assigned section, waiting for the Reaping to proceed.

"Greetings to the glorious District One! We have been provided with  this fine morning for yet another Reapings!"

The usual fare of applause and cheers greet this and a wide smile breaks out the escort's face as he continues.

"On this day two warriors shall enter themselves into one of the most glorious and greatest of all things...the Hunger Games!"

His shout echoes throughout the stone buildings that surround us and the crowd starts up a chant of "Hunger Games" which carries on for minutes before dying down. By the time it finished, it didn't even look like they were chanting words.

"These two teenagers shall have the most prestigious honor of fighting for their District against the other contingents of Panem!"

I roll my eyes around. I couldn't care less about the "glory" of being a victor. All I need is to win, and live my life the fullest after it.

"Let's select our female tribute, shall we?"

I don't even permit him to reach a hand into the bowl before screaming my volunteerism and rushing to the stage. The escort grins like an idiot and shoves the microphone in my face, requesting my name.

"I am Marlene Amador!" I yell into the microphone. The crowd claps and applauds me, causing me to briefly blush with pride before shoving it away. I don't need their acceptance. I've already told myself that. Those are the people who are trained to fight, trained to kill. I couldn't care less wheter they approve me or not.

"Let's find out who our male tribute will be!"

The escort says. He digs a hand into the bowl but before he can pick a slip of paper many voices shout out "I volunteer!" and he turns to scan the crowd, grinning foolishly.

He finally selects a pale, dark-haired boy from the front the crowd who appears to be wearing a long kimono. The boy stands at average height, and seems just like you typical District 1 tribute.

As soon as he steps onto the stage, the boy has already pulled the microphone out of the escort's hands, and turns his gaze to the crowd.

"I am Heliodor Agath, well-valued member of the League of Assassins! Remember the name, because i will be your next victor!"

The crowd goes wild of course. They never do anything differently. It's always a celebration for them, not caring at all that both of us could soon be dead. And why should they? Even if we both die in the bloodbath they still have thirty other tributes to root for and one of them is guaranteed to survive, afterall.

The escort concludes the Reaping but not the celebration. That will continue long into the night. Mainly for the people of the Capitol, who will be partying as us tributes lie in our beds, thinking about all of the ways death can reach us during the Games.

District Two: Savanna Léon
The sun is shining, as always. The forest is calm – only the mockingjays sing and the insects make clicking noises. There are no sounds of people nearby. Good. Golden leaves drift from the trees, sunlight streaking through the canopies. It is early autumn here. Pale grass begins to shorten, disappearing in the cold weather. But still, the skies are blue and the clouds are puffy.

I chuck knives at the trees, smiling as each one of them sinks into the hard wood. If only I could remain here all day! I could watch as the initial orange streaks to the sky, as the crickets come out to chirp. I could spend the rest of the day doing what I want here, without having to chit-chat or please anyone on my way.

This place is mine. This is my kingdom--

"Savanna!"

I turn around, and come face-to-face with my mother. Oh no...

"How many times will did I tell you to stay away from here!"

"I'm not sure, ma'am." I say with a wicked grin. That should do it.

My mother's face contorts with rage as i challenge her, again. Her face burns red, but when she blinks it's gone.

"Get moving. You have the Reaping to attend."

The main square isn’t far from the dead forest. It’s about half a mile, and probably only about two hundred metres from our house. If you go to the borders of the District, it could take hours to reach the Justice Building. But I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had to walk that far, really. My family is one of the healthiest one here, so we bought a car a few years ago. But I guess that today I'll have to walk.

When I reach home, my feet hurts like hell and I wish I could sleep untill tomorrow, but I have the Reapings to attend

“Do you want to change?” Fiorenza, one of my sisters, wonders aloud as soon as I step inside. I’ve got grass stains on my shirt and bits of leaves cling to my jacket. In the summer sun, it’s starting to get very hot. I should have just stayed at home and rested – preparing myself for today and maybe dressing myself up.

As I try to get some leaves out of my har, Tempest, my other sister, comes down the staircase dressed in a sparkling red satin dress and I snort loudly. What does she have to dress up for? She's not going into the Games! She is 19, she can't! I'm suspecting she's trying to get some wealthy man to notice her so she can finally move on from being with two stupid younger sisters.

“No. I don’t have time for it, and neither do you.” I reply to Fiorenza and point to a nearby clock. It’s almost midday – almost time for the Reaping. My Reaping clothes aren’t the height of fashion, but they’re better than the half-ripped, patched shirts and trousers I wore last year.

Once I get ready, I'm led out of our house and down the street, towards the main square where the majority of the has already gathered, for sure. Thankfully, it's not much longer before the Reapings commence and I get to the 15-years-old section. Soon enough things are handed off to the escort Anya Lightstorm, who makes a huge show out of the Reaping.

"Welcome, citizens of District 2! Are you excited?"

The crowd goes crazy, chanting about honor or something, and I can't help but join in. I just love this day!

"Lets find out who our male tribute will be!" She says, and digs a hand into the bowl. Before she can latch onto a piece of paper many voices shout out "I volunteer!", and Anya turns to scan the crowd. After a long wait, she finally selects a brownhaired boy sticking out from the front the crowd who heads to the stage without showing any signs of emotion, but he seems reluctant about his volunteerism for some reason.

"What a pleasant young lad!" Anya says, greeting him. "Me and the rest of the district are dying to know your name!"

"Mica Slateport,"

Anya stares at him waiting for something else, but the boy doesn't elaborate any further. She sighs and moves to the next bowl.

"Savanna de Léon!"

Wait, what!? This isn't supposed to happen. I still have three more years to train. I look around for the obvious volunteers, but none of them say anything. They know i'm the daughter of a wealthy family who wants me in the Games. If they take my place, they will pay.

The surrounding girls take a step away from me, clearing the path and allowing me to move.

The first step towards the aisle is hesitant, my entire body is rigid and I can't look at the faces of anyone, even though i can hear the whispering coming from nearly everyone. A few steps later, I'm in the stage, looking up towards Anya. I continue walking towards stage, although I know that every eye is towards me.

I nearly trip up the stairs, lost in my own thoughts, but surprisingly, Mica takes a step forward and catches me by my arm. I silently thank him before noticing he is stronger than he seemed from my position. He is muscular, and obviously well-fed, but those aren't his only noticeable features. From up close, I can see wrinkles under his eyes from stress and lack of sleep, and his slicked back, curly brown hair is a bit messy. He's decidedly tall, and a force to be reckoned with during the Games. I smile weakly and take a step forward, behind the girls' bowl.

"This year's tributes!"

Anya announces and the crowd applauds us, greeting our courage. I turn my back on the audience as she begins to repeat our names and then we're led to the Justice Building, where my only visitors are my family.

They tell me that the Games are on my blood, and i will conquer them, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. My father goes blabbering about strategies, but I don't need to listen. I can win all this by myself.

My next stop is the train station where the cameras film as the "District 2 Team", and Anya calls us,  board the train headed for the Capital. The thing is really fancy and looks just like how I imagined it would. I enter the amazing kitchen and immediately grab a plate of chocolates off of the table and stuff them into my mouth, while Mica calmly takes a seat around the table, his shifty-looking eyes taking everything in.

"Thanks, by the way" I say throwing him a contemptuous glare. He's not exactly the monster boy that District 2 often has. He seems more like the silent, fatal kind of tribute. He doesn't reply, either due to the lack of interest or because he didn't hear what i said. I content myself by staring out the window, the train's sheer speed making everything pass by as a blur.

District Three: Signors Stalingrad
I shuffle silently into the line waiting to get my blood taken by the peacekeepers. I have no desire to have eye contact with any person. There’s no need to. I’m just here for the Reaping and then I can get out of this crowd. Up on the stage I can see the Mayor and the District’s escort, Luana Teyllo. She gives some long speeches and talks about stuff that I have absolutely no interest in knowing of. The Games are not the great things they pretend they are. Most people in the District feel the same way as I, and there’s an air of impatience hanging in the crowd as they stand, waiting to learn of this year's sacrificial lambs.

"Hello District Three!" Luana exclaims with her long red dress and dark cloak. She always reminded me of something who is not form this world, maybe an alien, but that's just me and my love for unexisting things.

"Welcome to yet another Reaping! I hope we have a decent show this year!" I remember last year's pair. The boy was killed in the 3rd day and the girl survived much more, even managing to win. People were glad because they thought she wouldn't last much, let alone winning. I was happy because that meant more food for me.

"Let's put this off no longer! Time to find out this year's lovely tributes!" She sticks a long-sleeved hand into the females bowl and emerges with a single slip of paper:

"Eliane Alcott!"

There's only a few seconds of silence and then I make out the shape of a pale brown-haired girl moving for the stage from the 16-years-old line. But before she can get here another girl jumps out of the 18-years-olds section shouting. "I volunteer as tribute!"

The girl quickly goes up to the stage and I can get a better look at her appearance. She has short brown hair and striking dark eyes. Her skin is remarkably clear and flawless, and she seems about average height.

Well, I don't recognize the girl. That's good. I won't have a friend dying on me, at the least.

"Good day! What's your name, stupendous lady?" Luana politely addresses the girl, who stares at her in a mix of boredom and disbelief.

"Lucia Duvall,"

"Oh? And were you related to Eliane, Lucia?"

No answer. Luana just shuffles her feet awkwardly and then moves on for the boys' bowl. Then she reads the name. "Signors Stalingrad"

Me!?

I recognize the name this time. My breath catches in my throat. I hadn't even thought of this possibility. I didn't even stop to consider if I'd get Reaped. It seemed so unlikely, so impossible. . . But it just happened. I make an odd gagging noise as my breath finally is forced out and then my feet are slowly carrying me onto the stage. Luana shakes my hand and then repeats my name to the crowd. Nothing feels real. Maybe it isn't. Maybe if I close my eyes I will wake up safe and sound back to my original country, back to my roots.

But it doesn't happen. On the Hunger Games, kids fight to death. One of them survives. Am I going to die?

District Four: Severus Seaclan
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