The 103rd Hunger Games: Pawns of Fate

You've successfully arrived at this page by clicking on something! Congratulations!...Well, unless you didn't, in which case I have no clue how you're here, but welcome nonetheless.

These Games will not be containing tributes from other people, only tributes that I have created. More creative liberties and all that.

While this is mostly just to satisfy my urge to write a Games, it would certainly be nice if someone actually reads this.

WARNING: These Games will contain some swearing and possibly other stuff. We'll see.

Tributes
I ended up not having enough tributes to fill all the spots, but eh.

Prologue
"President Wulf, it's almost time for your speech."

A voice rings out, interrupting Wulf's concentration by calling his name. He sighs and turns away from his desk, setting the pages containing his speech down and standing. He adjusts his tie, taking a quick glance at the mirror to make sure he looks presentable before exiting his room through the doors leading to the balcony of his estate.

As soon as he comes into the sight of the Capitol's citizens, an ecstatic roar sounds throughout the area. Wulf smiles and waves, inwardly sighing and going over the speech in his head one last time to rule out any discrepencies his editor may have missed. He waits for the crowd to simmer down and clears his throat a single time before finally speaking. "People of Panem!" He shouts in the grandest voice he can muster. "The moment you've all been waiting for all year is fast approaching!" His words are greeted with another wave of cheering, an annoyance that Wulf manages to ignore. "The Hunger Games being held this year shall be a standard affair, one with 2 tributes from each District, including the Capitol and District 13." Another round of applause. Another mental groan. "However, the winning District this year shall recieve special privileges that shall be revealed once the victor is crowned." More praise from the crowd. "The Reaping shall begin about a week from now. May the odds be ever in your favor!"

And with that closing statement, Wulf quickly returns to the safety of his sanctum. As he walks into the room, he presses a button on the wall next to the door, causing static to erupt from a nearby speaker. "Dispose of the citizen who edited my speech." He states simply into the microphone nearby before releasing his hold on the button and rushing over to his desk. As soon as Wulf arrives, he rips a few pages out of his speech and tosses them into a nearby paper disintegrator, getting rid of the evidence that he left out more than three-fourths of his speech in favor of a more...concise approach. He may have neglected to tell the Districts and the potential tributes within them some rather important information, but that was none of his concern.

It was simply another factor to spice up this burning hot dish.

Capitol Reaping
Today was a day that could change a person's life forever.

Dahlia Kingsley, the escort selected for the Capitol this year, muses silently to herself as she prepares for the Reaping. She can't help but predict what sort of tributes will grace the arena with their presence as she touches up her make-up, covering her red skin with glittery powder to create an even stranger appearance. Well, whoever Fate selects to compete, it's my job to be his hand. Inspired by the thought of serving such an important purpose, Dahlia stands and prepares to head for the Capitol square, stopping to twirl at the mirror for a moment before actually heading out.

...

I sit upright, nearly crying out in pain from the splitting headache I've got. Of all the days to get a headache, why today? "Hey Eleon, it's time to get up! The Reapings will be starting in less than an hour!" I hear Alan shout from downstairs and immediately curse to myself. I managed to sleep in again, somehow. Always on the important days. I quickly stand and change out of my sleeping clothes into something more presentable, a rather nice suit that Alan bought for any special occasions I need to go to. My thoughts immediately shift to Alan and all that he's done for me...he took me in and trained me on how to use my power effectively, gave me a home and food with no expectation of any sort of payment (well, except for doing chores around the house). I don't think I'll ever be able to properly express how thanful I am to him.

I'm snapped out of my daze by a knock on my door, at which I start scrambling to finish pulling my suit on. "You alright, Eleon?" I hear Alan ask from the other side of the door. "Yeah, I'm fine. Have a bit of a headache, but it's nothing major." I reply, opening the door. Alan stands before me in his full Peacekeeper outfit, helmet held underneath his arm. "Ready?" He asks, giving me a nod. "Yeah." I reply simply, finding myself nodding in return. He ruffles my hair and grins at my response. "Good. Let's get going."

...

A girl sits alone in her home, idly feeling over the threads holding her lips together. She grins to herself, feeling them tighten and prevent her mouth from actually opening and grinning even wider at that feeling. She feels a laugh rise out of her chest and flow through her lips, emitting what almost sounds like muffled screaming to anyone who would happen to be listening. The sound rings through the empty home for a moment before slowly trailing off as the smile disappears off of the girl's face. ''It's time. Go.'' A single order rings out in her essentially empty head, causing her to stand and adjust her white t-shirt slightly as she moves towards her closet. She picks out a simple pair of pants and slips them on before preparing to leave her house, not bothering to put on any sort of footwear.

The one known as Sheol Argos begins giggling again as she opens the front door of her house, the atmosphere outside growing considerably colder through her mere presence.

...

The Capitol Square swells with activity as people file into the area, possible tributes entering the lines as noise floods the area. As the Capitol's residents discuss among themselves who they want to be in the Games, the Capitol escort approaches the microphone and taps it a few times. "Hello, citizens of the Capitol!" Dahlia shouts into the microphone, a needed measure thanks to the sheer amount of applause her words are greeted with. "Are you ready for the Hunger Games?" The crowd responds with massive amounts of cheering. Dahlia does a little curtsy and grabs the microphone before walking over to the bowl containing the male names.

"Males are first!" She announces, reaching into the bowl and pulling out a slip of paper. She uncrumples it rather excitedly and takes a deep breath to draw out the suspense. "Our Capitol male is...Eleon!" She announces, causing a boy with vibrant blue hair to step out of the line and head towards the stage. One of the Peacekeepers near the stage begins visibly shaking, though he does nothing to stop Eleon's approach. Once he arrives on the stage, he sighs and rubs his forehead annoyedly.

Dahlia wastes no time in approaching the females' bowl. She eagerly reaches into the bowl and reads the slip of paper she grabbed, her expression visibly souring as she looks out at the crowd. "O-our Capitol female is...Sheol Argos." The crowd goes practically silent as Sheol steps out of her line and approaches the stage, moving as though her body were pulled along by the strings of some novice puppetmaster. She takes her time walking to the stage, met by complete silence every step of the way, before slowly coming to a stop next to Eleon. "Y-your Capitol tributes!" Dahlia yells, regaining her composure as the Capitol cheers for those representing them. Sheol ignores the cheering, staring straight at Eleon as her body begins to shudder in some perverted imitation of laughing. Eleon glances at her, shaking slightly, before ignoring her and focusing on giving his best smile to the crowd.

...

As I'm led away from the stage by a pair of Peacekeepers, I can't stop myself from letting out a sigh of relief. That girl, Sheol...she rubs me the wrong way. Even if I can get past her...strange appearance, her actions are a level of creepy that I'd prefer not to deal with. I think I'll spend as little time near her as I possibly can.

It doesn't take long before I'm in a holding cell, waiting for the only person I know will visit me: Alan. I don't have to wait particularly long, as Alan enters not long after I do. "Eleon..." He begins, pulling off his helmet and looking at the ground. I remain silent as he sits down near me and find myself instinctively scooting closer to him. He glances at me before placing his hand on my head and ruffling my hair. This feeling...it's nice.

Words aren't necessary between the two of us as we sit in close proximity, each of us enjoying the presence of a family member that we may never see again. Chances are that I won't survive this, what with the 27 other tributes that I'll have to compete with. I don't even know the others yet, but I can tell from the presence of a girl like Sheol that this year will have some dangerous contenders.

Then again, I'm no weakling myself.

District 1 Reaping
I feel a rather nostalgic feeling as I sit at the table, wrapped in a blanket as I eat breakfast. This might just be the last time I have a meal like this, surrounded by my family...family. Hm. As if on cue, I notice that everyone around me is staring directly at me. Being the oldest sibling by six years, I'm the only person in my family who's eligible for the Hunger Games. The thought of being reaped sends a chill down my spine, causing me to shudder and pull the blanket even tighter around my body.

"Cybelle." My dad begins, giving me a stern look. "No matter what, I don't want my eldest daughter to be killed in the Hunger Games." "I know, Dad..." I sigh, pushing my food away and hugging my legs tight to my body in an attempt to warm up. My dad gives me a strange look, a weird sort of sympathy that I really don't want. "That's why," he continues, "I've decided to bribe the Peacekeepers to remove your name from the bowl."

"What? No!" I stand up abruptly, nearly knocking the table over. As much as I feel like I should be happy that my dad essentially just saved my life, he's just endangered the rest of the family to do so. "Now, now..." My mom stands up, obviously about to try and calm me down. My two brothers look at me fearfully, causing a twinge of guilt to shoot through my heart. "Your father did this for your own good, and the good of all of us." I scoff, shaking my head. "'The good of all of us'? Do you know what would happen if anyone ever found out that I bribed my way out of the Games?" I find my fists clenching involuntarily, as if my body wanted to lash out and punch my dad for his stupidity.

"Cybelle, you're being ridiculous." Now he's standing up as well, as if he could read my thoughts and wanted to be in a position to defend himself. "I'M being ridiculous? YOU'RE the ridiculous one!" I shout at him, turning away and storming up the stairs before anyone can respond. I bolt into my room and shut the door, quickly pulling on some sufficiently fancy clothing before climbing out the window.

I hate myself for acting like this, but I'm not letting my idiot Dad put my entire family in trouble just for my sake.

That's why I'm going to volunteer for the Hunger Games.

...

Ah, what a wonderful day 'tis turning out to be. 'Tis not even an hour after I've awoken, and already I can tell that today shall bring great things. The sound of knocking echoes throughout my room, a sound that I can hear even from the balcony. "Enter." I call, the beauty of my voice comparable to the sun setting over the ocean. After fumbling with the lock in a notably clumsy way, Alisa, the object of my affections, enters the room. "Ah, Alisa. I've been expecting you. Come, observe the view with me." Alisa rolls her eyes as I return my gaze to the view in question. "Of course, Young Master." She responds, the coldness of her tone contrasting well with her words.

Within a moment, she is standing beside me, her maid outfit ruffling in the breeze. "'Tis a beautiful day, is it not?" I ask her, my accent sounding as appealing as always. "Yes, Young Master." Alisa states unenthusiastically, moving to leave the balcony and enter my room once more. I call "Prepare my best suit." after her before calmly observing my overlook of District 1. 'Tis quite the District to live in, much better than those other farces they call Districts.

Those imitations do not even deserve to hold the same name as the District holding one as magnificent as I, Lucianus Arinsworth.

My musings are interrupted as I recall the Reaping that shall be occuring today. What a grand opportunity to prove my superiority to the plebians that dare say otherwise. I finally take my leave of the balcony and dress myself in my best suit with the thought of volunteering floating about in my mind.

What a wonderful day 'tis turning out to be, indeed.

...

The air surrounding the platform where the Reaping is held thrums with electricity, not because of dread, but because of anticipation. Soon, one lucky boy and one lucky girl will be drafted to fight in the greatest event of the year and bring glory to both their family and their District. The only question is...who will be able to volunteer fast enough to beat out the fierce competition?

Joseph Leark, the escort assigned to District 1, looks strangely nervous as he approaches the front of the platform. His short and chubby frame vibrates as he clears his throat, causing a few of the people in the crowd to chuckle. Once he's finished with that, he checks to make sure that his blue pompadour has retained its shape before tapping the microphone to make sure it's working. "H-hello, District 1!" He speaks in a quiet, high-pitched voice as he greets the District he was assigned to escort. Despite Leark's obvious nervousness, a huge cheer erupts from the attending crowd, causing him to smile halfheartedly as he prepares to speak again.

"I-I must say, I'm very-" "I volunteer!" Joseph's newfound confidence disappears just as quickly as it arrives as a statement soars throug the square. A white-haired girl wrapped in rather fancy winter clothing quickly runs up to the stage, her eyes burning with determination as she approaches the chubby man. He fiddles with the microphone for a moment before offering it to her with a sigh of defeat. The girl snatches the microphone away and snarls into it "My name is Cybelle Kyros, and I'm going to win the Hunger Games!". A murmur goes through the attendees, many of them recognizing the cold girl and wondering why she volunteered.

Not a moment goes by before another shout rings true. "Objection!" A black haired boy dressed in an incredibly haughty suit stands halfway between the stage and the rest of District 1, pointing directly at Cybelle. He shakes his head as a sneer forms across his face. "The one who will be winning the Games is I, Lucianus Arinsworth!" He declares, turning around as his vision sweeps through the crowd and dares anyone to say otherwise. After a moment of silence, Lucianus turns gracefully and climbs to a position next to the icy girl.

The crowd begins to shift excitedly at the two tributes who have volunteered. Both of them are infamous among the residents of District 1, Lucianus especially so. The shifting quickly transforms into an ovation as all of those gathered show their support for the mismatched pair. Lucianus bows and waves to the crowds, loving the attention and showing it. Cybelle, on the other hand, looks incredibly uncomfortable as she pulls her clothing tighter.

Leark, seemingly forgotten in the chaos, quickly gestures to the newly minted D1 tributes, causing another roar of approval to erupt from the crowd.

...

I sit alone in my holding cell, waiting for someone who I know won't come to see me. My Dad must be furious with me for volunteering, especially after all the trouble he went through to get my name pulled. I can't really blame him for that. What I CAN blame him for is for being such an idiot in the first place. I didn't need his help, especially when the "help" ends up doing more harm than good.

I jump a little in surprise as the door to my cell opens with a creak, followed by a Peacekeeper entering and gesturing for me to stand up. I...I guess Dad didn't want to see me one last time after all. I probably shouldn't be surprised, after that stunt I pulled. Why did I even do this in the first place? I can't help but second guess my decision to sign my own death warrant. The Peacekeeper clears his throat, causing me to snap out of my stupor and stand.

"Dammit, Dad..." I curse quietly to myself as I allow the Peacekeeper to lead me away, cold tears forming in my eyes as thoughts of my family run freely through my head.

District 2 Reaping
Let's see...tank top? Check. Fingerless gloves? Check. Shorts? Check. Well, I think I'm all set. I check myself out in the mirror for a moment before nodding absently and leaving my room. I stop in front of my parents, who've been waiting for me near the front door. "You're going to the Reaping in...that?" Dad asks, looking at me critically. "Of course. What else did you think I would wear?" I respond cheerfully, a bright smile forming naturally on my face.

He scowls and shakes his head, adjusting his tie slightly as he does so. "I'll never understand how you turned out the way you did..." He mutters to no one in particular, walking out the door. My mother gives me a sympathetic look, as if his statement had hurt me irreversibly, before following after him. I don't see why. He's said stuff like that to me all my life. I've gotten kinda used to it by now. With a simple shrug of my shoulders, I slip on some comfy tennis shoes and follow after them, hoping that they'll like the surprise I'm going to spring during the Reaping.

...

The punch strikes the thug's face head on, causing his nose to break and bend sideways as he's sent flying headfirst into one of the alley's walls. He lets out a scream of pain, curling up and clutching at his broken nose as his assailant stands over him. "This is what happens when you steal." The yellow-clad figure states as the thief's buddies begin to clutter the only end of the alleyway that doesn't end in a sheer wall.

The boy dressed in yellow turns to face the reinforcements, cracking his knuckles as a grin spreads across his features. "Ah, more evildoers to punish, eh? I'll gladly show all of you..." He begins sprinting towards the new group of enemies and leaps into the air. "...the meaning of Justice!"

A few minutes later, Rodeo Baldios casually strolls out of an alleyway with a few bumps and bruises on him. In his wake, he leaves a group of 13 or so brigands, all with various broken bones and shattered pride. He stretches casually in his moment of victory, alerting a nearby bystander to get the injured criminals some medical attention before heading towards where the Reaping is being held.

This year, Rodeo has special plans for this special occasion. Plans that would allow him to bring Justice to a larger audience than ever before...

District 3 Reaping
Total darkness.

That is all I see as I float aimlessly, surrounded by the all-encompassing shadow.

I take a moment to try and move, willing my arm to alter position despite knowing how pointless it is.

I seem to have lost control.

I awaken with a start as my dream comes to an end, bolting upright in bed and panting slightly. I feel droplets of sweat dragging across my face as awareness slowly fills my psyche and immediately wipe the perspiration away with my blanket.

Even as I shake off the grogginess still effecting my body, one question occupies my consciousness: Why did that simple dream bother me so much?

Instead of pondering over this problem, I decide to prepare myself for the Reaping. Social standards dictate that I look at least somewhat appealing, after all, and while I couldn't care less about my appearance, there are many advantages to be gained in that field.

I quickly pull on my glasses before slipping into my most visually appealing outfit and heading out of my room and into the kitchen. I ignore my parents, who ignore me in response, and walk out the door without a word. As my eyes scout out the surroundings to identify possible dangers and my legs carry me towards the main square, my mind idly returns to the question I had asked myself earlier. I can easily identify several possible meanings for this dream, but each seems...unlikely.

I suppose plagueing myself with such an inconsequential thing is pointless in the end. My mind moves on to more important subjects, rapidly forgetting about the dream as plans form in its place.

To be continued...