216th Annual Hunger Games

Change of plans. This is a page dedicated to my own Hunger Games where I'll work on improving my writing skills using my own tributes. If you follow these hope you enjoy.

Introduction
This is a timeline where the rebellion never took place, the Hunger Games continued for many years and still continue to this point. The Districts are still forced into slavery by the tyranny of the Capital's recently elected President Ascot. There are rumours of insurgents but the brutal totalitarian force of the peacekeepers has been quick to dispose of anyone they see as a threat. Nothing has changed, but that dosen't prevent the select few to seek change.


 * I will be sticking to the book series closely, therefore the Captiol will not participate in the cames, as well as Districts 0, 13, 14 and 15.


 * This is partially inspired by Battle Royale, where only a few tributes personalities and backstories will be fully explored. The majority of the tributes will simply be observed.


 * I will include reapings, train rides, training, interviews and, of course, the games.

Alliances
Careers: Compton Brass (1), Anissa Luster (1), Delta Slate (2), Theresa Mortor (2), Marius Bourne (4), Kalani Firth (4) and Marona Fawn (10)

District 3 Alliance: Lucian Viero (3) and Sage Destry (3)

District 5, 7, 8 and 12 Alliance:  Briggs Acton (5), Grove Weston (7), Themis Fern (7), Lacey Chiffon (8), Cloton Kier (12) and Hadley Conall (12)

Loners: Clarke Watson (5), Ashton Ford (6), Jordan Hayes (6), Gauze Aertex (8), Emmer Spelt (9), Quinoa Fonio (9), Marlin Draught (10), Sorrel Gelding (11) and Zinnia Crispin (11)

(bold means the tribute is leader of the alliance.)

District 1: Compton Brass
A gong goes off, instantly alerted my eyes flash open and I jump out of the comfort of my fine linen sheets. I smile to myself, impressed by my own survival instincts.

The years of training I’ve been supplied with has taught me that whenever the gone goes off you are ready. I’m pleased it’s managed to dig its way into my subconscious. I am absolutely perfect.

Here, in District one it is tradition to sound the gong used to signify the cornucopia bloodbath to commence the beginning reaping. I smile; this year is my year. I’ll obviously be selected as the fine volunteer, I’m tall, muscular and as I examine myself in the mirror I come to the quick conclusion that I’m completely gorgeous to the eye. I assume even the Capitol wouldn’t be foolish enough to not select me; especially considering this is my last year of being eligible.

I begin to get ready; it is only socially acceptable that one goes to the reaping dressed in their finest attire. I slip on a gleaming white tuxedo, the most expensive of Capitol Couture I assure you. The suit is inlaid with numerous diamonds that when reflected on by the sun gives off a dazzling spectacle. I almost feel pity for the sorry female that will stand beside me; she’ll hardly be able to outshine me. I’ll be known as the…Capitol’s Gem, which will be my Victory Tour slogan when I emerge victorious. It all begins now.

I hear the distant shout of my mother downstairs. I must be heading off soon. My parents await me as I elegantly stride down my marble staircase, adoring mutters and eyes lit with admiration, which I indulge on like a drug. On a large table behind them is every delicacy one could imagine, one of the perks of having a father that is in charge of District to Capitol exports. However, I have no appetite, as I must be off, telling my parents to feed the luxurious cuisine to the dogs. I exit without saying goodbye.

The silver streets are busy and crowded, full of pathetic hopefuls that stand no chance against me. I wish my driver was here, but he believes it is morally wrong to drive over the masses. So instead I’m forced to push my way through the peasants, giving deadly glares to anyone who objects until I finally reach the checkpoint.

A bored looking woman places the machine that will extract my DNA on my finger, a sharp zap comes and I barely flinch. “I felt nothing at all” I announce, rather too loudly. My honorable name comes of the screen and she allows me to proceed, where I take my place with the other 18 year olds. I stand firmly by the edge of the group, prepared to walk to the stage where currently the escort Celine Faye is playing with her golden curls whilst examining her speech.

A considerable amount of time passes before the reaping beings. As the last people rush into the square Celine takes center stage and begins her speech.

“Hundreds of years ago, the Districts rebelled against the Capitol. The ones, who fed, clothed and loved them. It didn’t take long for the Capitol to put the Districts into their rightful place but the damage done was irreversible. So, it was decreed the Districts of one to twelve would make the ultimate sacrifice, every year they would offer up one young man and woman between the ages of twelve and eighteen to take part in the Hunger Games, where they would fight until one, the victor, remained. The Capitol turned the war-torn Panem into a land of love, courage and unity. Long Live the Capitol!” Celine finishes, she’s said the same speech so many years but she never holds back on her passion and grace when she speaks, as if it was the first time she ever read it, eternally preserved in its youth.

“Long live the Capitol” I and the rest of the district yell. I notice not many dry eyes, the love and passion we hold for the Capitol and its endless generosity is enormous and overwhelming. A video plays, showing clips of the games, tributes becoming victors, a peaceful Panem and President Ascot wishing us triumph and good fortune, the entire District cheers throughout, screaming their love for Ascot, whom is the greatest man Panem has ever seen.

Celine takes her place on stage. “How lovely, now, as manners state Ladies first”. She approaches the large, overflowing bowl. I feel pity for the poor girl who will participate alongside me; she stands no chance of victory against me. New rules state due to the increasing violence over the years in the rush to volunteer, and the death of a girl a few years back the escort has to open the slip before one can announce themselves as volunteer. I see the pain in their eyes as their lips quiver and hands slowly reach for the sky.

Celine opens the small slip and screams erupt. Celine, as always look shocked and as she gains her composure her talon like nails point towards the seventeen year old section, this must be quite an exquisite specimen of a girl as usually it’s always an eighteen year old that is selected. A blonde girl with bouncing curls, a classically beautiful face with even more beautiful eyes wearing a pink dress that leaves nothing to the imagination approaches the golden stage.

Anissa Luster.

I know her from the training center; it’s hard to forget her. She has exemplary skills in daggers and she even works a sword with more proficiency than most of the boys. She’s dangerous and completely bonkers. I feel increasing hostility as she takes her place on stage. She’s a threat. I barely listen to her announce her name and Celine’s compliments on her. I just wait for her to approach the boys.

Again she takes the name and as she opens it I reach my hand in the air and shout in my most dominating tone “I volunteer”. Surprisingly, Celine’s eyes wonder across the crowd and in a heavenly moment ours connect and she beckons me forward. I step out the crowd in a haze, not noticing my steps forward it’s so surreal. Is this a dream? Is it I? I’ve been dreaming about this for so many long years and here it finally is. It’s mine!

I stand on the golden stage and Celine asks my name. I try to say it with seriousness but I laugh as I announce it to all of Panem.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Compton Brass”.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Well, well Compton. I’m sure I haven’t made a mistake with you.” Celine giggles. I merely nod, still stuck between the hazy land of dream and reality. My parents are crying with joy and I smile at them. I notice Anissa examining me and as I turn to see her head turns with a satisfied smirk.

<p class="MsoNormal">Celine implores the crowd to cheer, which they do. I believe Anissa and I are the best batch of Tributes District in has seen in over a century. I indulge on the cheers and Celine tells us to shake hands, I offer mine to Anissa and she barely brushes it; too busy intoxicating herself on the Districts adoration. We are both lead to the golden doors of the justice building and I wave one last wave to my admiring crowd, tears of joy welling up in my eyes before the huge doors close behind me.

<p class="MsoNormal">

District 5: Clarke Watson
"Citizens of District 5. The reaping will commence in thirty minutes. All those between the ages of twelve and eighteen, make your way to the Justice Building. All those who fail to attend will be executed, by order of President Ascot."

I groan. This painfully robotic speaker has been blaring over the District for the past hour, repeating itself over and over again. I believe they have made the message clear, but of course the Capitol views us as mindless savages lacking the brains to remember rules for possibly the most important day of the year.

It's humiliating.

I sit by the corner of my wooden bed, which groans as i shift despite my almost non existent weight. I try to keep my mind for shifting to the reaping. I despise it with every bone in my body. I don't want to get up, partially feeling that if I get up i'll just be another slave to the Capitol. Though, for the safety of myself and my mother I know I must.

I grimace with the effort and stumble to my wardrobe, examining the little option of clothing I have to wear. The majority of my wardrobe has been eaten by moths. I imagine walking to the stage already emancipated but also dressed in rags.

"Stop it Clarke" I whisper to myself, trying to be brave. I've always tried to be brave ever since my father starved to death and my brother disappeared; but I'm an afraid little girl. Weak. "Stop" I try to fight my thoughts but it's terribly hard to not let them overwhelm me.

I snatch out the first dress I can find. A plain white thing spotted with dirt, holes and so many patches sewn in almost making it look like a quilt. My mothers wedding gown. I hug it tightly. My mother is the most precious thing in the world to me, she's all I have left; I'm all she has left. I try to protect her but it's near impossible when faced with the oppression District 5 faces.

I proceed down the hallway where my mother awaits me with a comb and a chair. I silently take a seat as the announcements continue. She brushes my blonde hair like she was brushing a delicate china dolls beautiful locks, not a bedraggled girl who looks to have no value.

"When you were a child, Clarke. A woman offered to buy your hair for a reasonable price. Your father and I rejected it, because we know you're too special to be caught up in the corrupt world we live in"

"I woul-...I will sell it if it would help us!" I protest, feeling anger hat my parents let themselves suffer because of me. "There is nothing in this world that isn't already corrupt"

"Not you, my beautiful girl". My mom softly replies. "You must be off now. Tonight after I get back from the power plant I'll bring a loaf of bread with me. We'll feast like the Capitol"

"I can't wait" I smile, and my stomach rumbles rather loudly. "I guess he can't wait either". Me and my mom both laugh and hug, she wishes me luck and I leave the house onto the dirt road to the reaping. My mom isn't afraid that i'll get selected. I'm only fifteen but it's not to her knowledge that I claimed tesserae in secret, I didn't want to worry her.

As I walk a man grabs my arm and drags me into an ally. I scream and he hushes me. "You want the peacekeepers to hear, Clarke?". My eyes adjust to the darkness and it's my brother...Dalton. I let out a cough mixed with a cry. I thought he was dead. I haven't seen him for over a year, people said he disappeared and ended up in the mass graves with all the other sorry soles.

"I..I thought you were dead"

"Good." He smiles. I'm still in shock "Clarke, take this" He whispers, looking around wearily. He passes me a leaflet with a symbol of a red open palm. I instantly know what it is and crumple it up and throw it away. It's the sign of the rebels. "I have no much to tell yo-"

"You idiot. You joined them? You're going to get yourself killed!" I can barely contain my anger as tears well up in my eyes "And what if a peacekeeper sees us and your leaflets? We'll both be hanged!" I don't wait for him to protest as I run off. It was only last week the District was forced to see the compulsory viewing of the people in the exact same cause as him executed. I think about mother watching me and Dalton, her son she thought dead, hung side by side. I shiver.

I finally arrive at the looming justice Building. I still don't believe I saw my brother, it seems so unreal yet I somehow wish I hadn't. The boy I used to play in the mud with...now in a group of insurgents being crushed by the Capitol. I don't was to see him die but i know i's inevitable. My eyes close and to myself I make a mental note never to tell my mother about the encounter, it would destroy her. I wait in silence for the reaping.

The escort takes his place on stage, with his usual disgusted face. He holds utter discontent working in a District that never gets any Victors. He's a terrifyingly tall man with even more terrifying green and yellow hair that falls the the floor. I wonder what circus he escaped from, and I almost find myself laughing; something which never happens. I ignore the speech about the Capitols generosity and how the districts belong in servitude. As the escort announces "Long Live the Capitol", few, not including myself mutter the words. As usual, the escort looks at us with his judgement and wrinkles his nose. A video plays, which I also try to the best of my ability; to ignore.

In his uncaring and bored voice he announces "Time for the girls'. Savages like us can never be ladies. In our district there are two bowls for girls, so many claim tesserae it was have two bowls or an abnormally huge one. He picks the left one and sinks his hand very deep into it and plucks out a name. His eyes narrow as he reads.

"Clarke Watson"

The girls by my side turn their heads and gasp. I feel a hand hold my arm in comfort and I'm totally frozen. I wait for it to end but he repeats my name, making my situation even more real. I still don't move until a girl beside me tells me I have to go. My legs feel like they have huge weights attached to them as I walk, I just want to sink in the ground and never return. I wait for someone to volunteer but there is a haunting silence.

"Don't cry Clarke. Don't cry" I mutter to myself as I straighten out the creases in my dress and take my place on stage. I need to be brave, for real this time.

The escort can't hold back his disapproval at the sight of me "lovely" he groans in possibly the most sarcastic voice i've ever heard. I see Dalton in the crowd of adults. His blonde hair standing out and his eyes filled with sadness I've never seen from him. I take my sights off of him and look for my mother, panicking as I can't find her.

"Briggs Acton"

Suddenly I snap into reality as a boy with fire red curls, also leaving the fifteen year old section dressed in finer attire to myself and less thin takes his place on stage. He is crying and I silently beg him to stop...he's already got himself killed.

"Clarke Watson and Briggs Acton of District 5" The escort mutters. The District give us a half hearted applause. A crying boy and pathetically weak girl is not what they were hoping for. We shake hands and I whisper to him "You need to get a grip, otherwise you'll be dead before the games even begin" As the escort is about to take us into the Justice Building I take one last look at my District, most likely for the final time and I see my mother, openly sobbing.

It wasn't meant to be this way. i was going to go home. She would bring the bread and we...we would feast like the Capitol"

And be happy.

District 9: Emmer Spelt
TBA

District 12: Hadley Conall
TBA

District 4: Marius Bourne
TBA

Interviewer: Emilio Missoni
TBA

Training
TBA

Training Scores and Odds
TBA

Arena
TBA

Games
TBA