Author's note:

This fanfiction consists entirely of original characters. It follows seven different protagonists as they try to survive the Hunger Games. The first seven chapters will each introduce a new protagonist. Chapters will be uploaded one at a time twice a week, on Monday and Thursday. I've uploaded the first two chapters today to get things going. This fanfic assumes no knowledge of the Hunger Games universe; all the relevant details are explained within the fic, so that those who haven't read the Hunger Games can still enjoy this work. Please review the fic after reading it. Thanks, and enjoy!

"Mar! Wake up! Mar, come on! It's eight o'clock! The Reaping is today, remember?"

Thirteen-year-old Mar Sessen rolled over in his bed. "So what," he mumbled. "The Careers are going, not me."

His mother put her hands on her hips. "Mar, get up out of your bed. Now." At the sound of her commanding tone, he pulled his small body out from his mess of tangled blankets, tossed his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up. "Everyone goes to the Reaping, Mar. It's mandatory," his mother reminded him. "You know that. Now get dressed. You need to look nice."

Mar sleepily started pulling on the formal clothes his mother had laid out for him.

In the days leading up to the Reaping, the entire nation of Panem was ablaze with activity, especially the parents of the twelve-to-eighteen-year-olds whom the Reaping most concerned. Even District 4, a district that placed high value on patience and tranquility, was abuzz with energy. The children themselves showed signs of anxiety, but not nearly as much as their parents. To them, the possibility of being selected seemed remote, even impossible. They chatted about it and the Hunger Games, but otherwise went about their lives as usual. Their parents, however, went to sleep each night and dreamed that their child was selected, that the nation would watch as the child they had loved and nurtured met a sudden, grisly end.

Mar met with his friends at the street corner, all dressed in the nicest clothes they owned, and together the small group began the thirty-minute trek to the huge park where the Reaping would be held. Despite its size, it had to contain every single resident of District 4 at once at the yearly Reaping, a feat it narrowly managed. Mar and his friends found themselves squeezing through a crowd in an effort to reach the section for their age group. They located it and managed to sit down just as the mayor of District 4, a hook-nosed, balding man, called for silence so he could read his speech. Mar looked up at the raised stage. He noticed officials from the Capitol, the literal and figurative center of the nation of Panem, sitting in chairs on either side of the podium that the mayor occupied. He knew they were from the Capitol because of their smooth, expensive suits and dresses and their surgically-perfected features.

"Many, many years ago," the mayor began in an even tone, "the nations of North America collapsed. The cause has long been forgotten, but the effect – the effect is remembered. The effect is that the-"

"-great nation of Panem rose from the ashes," one of Mar's friends recited in a dull tone in tandem with the mayor. "They give this exact same speech every year. Next they'll go on about all the technological advances Panem has made."

"And then they'll talk about all the difficult trials that our nation had to struggle through to get where it is today," another friend added, "from famines and winters to, of course-"

"-The Dark Days," three different voices rang out in unison.

"When the thirteen districts surrounding the Capitol rose up against it out of selfishness, and definitely not because it was oppressing them so it could live in luxury," the girl next to Mar said sarcastically.

"And the Capitol crushed them with its – what's the phrase they always use?"

"Technological superiority," someone else supplied.

"Right, that. And all the districts surrendered except District 13, which was destroyed completely. So now, we have the Hunger Games each year to remind us that the Capitol controls us. And because putting kids in an arena and watching them fight to the death is fun."

Despite his friends' tones of disgust, Mar could tell they weren't really taking the Reaping seriously. And that was fine. The chances of any of them having to participate in the Hunger Games were basically none. Even if one of them was selected as the male or female tribute that year, they wouldn't have to go. One of the Careers would volunteer for them.

The Career Tributes were children trained from an early age specifically for the Hunger Games. While other children went to school and did homework, they were drilled in survival, medicine, trap-making, and armed and unarmed combat. Every year, when someone was selected in District 4's Reaping, the same-gender Career Tribute who had agreed to go that year would wait until the mayor asked if anyone wanted to volunteer in the selected person's place, at which point the Career would volunteer. This practice benefited the district, as well, since the prize for winning included monthly deliveries of food and other treats to everyone in the winner's district for a year. Despite this fact, only three districts trained Careers: 1, 2, and 4. The Careers of District 4 weren't as enthusiastic about it as those from Districts 1 and 2, where being a tribute was actually considered an honor, but they could still be relied upon to take the place of whoever was chosen. Training children specifically for the Games was technically illegal, but the Capitol allowed it to continue, presumably because it made the Games much more exciting.

At last, the mayor finished his speech and everyone clapped politely. Then he produced two silver globes the size of a basketball from beneath the podium. Inside each one were thousands of small slips of paper, each bearing the name of a child from twelve to eighteen years of age. "We selected the female tribute first last year, so let's select the male first this time," the mayor suggested. To his credit, his hands were trembling. For all his enthusiasm, he really hated the Hunger Games. He unscrewed the top of the globe, stuck his hand in, withdrew a piece of paper, and squinted at it. "Mar Sessen, you have been selected as the male tribute for this year's Hunger Games. Please come to the stage now."

At this, Mar took in a shuddering breath. He knew it would be fine, he wouldn't really have to be a tribute. But it was still chilling, knowing what would have happened if his district didn't have Career Tributes. "Be right back," he said to his friends, and he stood up and made the lengthy trek to the stage.

When he arrived and climbed the stairs to stand next to the mayor, he turned and awkwardly looked out into the vast crowd. The mayor called into the microphone, "Now then, if anyone would like to volunteer in this boy's place, please stand, announce your intent, and approach the stage now."

…

No.

This can't be happening.

Mar's eyes desperately searched for a sign of movement, his ears searched for a shout amongst the crowd. He was so certain, so certain that someone would volunteer for him. He felt dizzy as he heard the mayor announce, "Then Mar Sessen will be this year's male tribute from District 4! Now, on to the females…" His mind raced. He wondered what had gone wrong. Every year, without fail, two Careers had volunteered. Except this one. Why? Why him? Why now?

He watched as the girl whose name was announced made her way to the stage to stand on the other side of the mayor. The mayor asked the crowd if anyone wanted to volunteer for her. Secretly, Mar hoped no one would volunteer, that he could explain this anomaly by saying that the Careers were late, and would volunteer upon arrival, and that the Capitol would bend the rules a little and allow them in, just to ensure that the Games would be exciting. He just wanted an explanation. He was confused.

"I volunteer!"

All eyes, including Mar's, affixed themselves on the girl who had risen out of her seat, and suddenly, Mar wished that he didn't have an explanation after all.

He had never met the girl that was volunteering, but he knew who she was, and he had spoken of her with his friends numerous times. No one knew her name; they all called her "the Witch". She was supposedly the best Career District 4, or any district, had ever trained. She was known to be vicious, cunning, and bloodthirsty. In fact, rumors persisted that her trainers had decided to improve the quality of her training by forcing her to fight, and actually kill, a number of Avoxes, convicted criminals sentenced by the Capitol to a life of slavery. Rumors of exactly how many people she'd killed varied widely; more conservative estimates put the number at 14. And this year, at last, the trainers had decided she was as ready as she'd ever be. Everyone had expected her to volunteer next year, the last year of her eligibility, so she would have the maximum amount of preparation and muscle growth.

Mar realized instantly why no male Careers had volunteered. It was suicide. They all believed without a doubt that the Witch would win, and that meant volunteering to compete against her amounted to throwing one's life away. Mar couldn't help feeling that they were right as he watched her stride confidently up to the stage. He saw several dark flecks in her long blonde hair that he could have sworn was dried blood.

His legs felt weak.

"And what it your name, miss?" the mayor asked when she reached the stage.

"Tarras Esmer."

"Well then, Tarras Esmer, you are this year's female tribute from District 4! Everyone, a round of applause for these two!"

A burst of forced applause rose from the crowd. The girl who had been selected scampered off the stage and back to her seat.

She could not have known how much Mar envied her as he watched her go.