Author's Note: MUST READ BEFORE-HANDED:

Hello, it's Parris Monique Adele Silver, or just Parris. You might know me as XOXOFutureFame on my other account, which I share with my sister, Priscilla. Just a few rules I'd like to make clear before-handed.

1. This IS NOT first come first serve. I will carefully read through every submission, and choose the ones I think are most fitting. If your tribute's not chosen, I'm sorry, don't take it personally. No hard feelings, kay?

2. Submit tributes through PM ONLY. Any tribute through review, and I will not use it and ignore that person, got it? I don't want this to be deleted. And tribute's with authors that review would have a better chance of surviving *hint hint*.

3. No Mary Sues or Gary Stus. I won't choose them, and if I do, they'll get a harsh and embarrassing death during the Cornucopia bloodbath. Make sure all the tributes make sense and fit with their district. Someone from District Twelve won't be good with the knives. Oh, and I'm over with the whole "volunteering for family member or friend" thing, kay? No volunteers from districts that aren't Career districts, unless they have a VERY good reason. I don't want too many sob stories and dead family members, though I tend to do that myself a lot. Those are overdone.

I think that sums it up pretty much. Anything else I need to add just PM me. Now go read, and leave a review. I just hope I didn't mess up the first chapter too much. If it sucked, tell me, but just keep in mind there's a big difference between saying, "HEY YOU! THIS SUCKS!" than "This could use some improvement. If only you..."

-Parris Monique Adele Silver


Edited: After rereading my first chapter, I discovered I was strongly dissatisfied with it. Maybe it's because I typed it out on my iPhone. Yes, I will blame it all on the iPhone. Or maybe it's because when I first typed it out, I had just had one of Barnes and Noble's Mocha Cookie Crumbles, and I was extremely hyper. I don't know, but I wasn't happy with it. So, I decided to go back through and do some editing. I also realized I included no details whatsoever on the arena. Sorry about that, and I went in to add some details.

I hope it's better after editing, but who knows. Sometimes, I go through and edit my writing, and end up making it worse than before.


It was an average night in the Capitol. Bright lights and music blared from every building in the city, cutting through the dark night. People were decked in colorful wigs and ridiculous clothing, all embroidered and piled with jewels, feathers and exotic flowers to the point it was hard to move. They pranced throughout the city square, partying and catching up with friends.

Various booths were set up, selling from booze, sweets, and other delicacies; to powdered wigs of assorted colors and styles, placed at angles on the heads of mannequins in poses, dressed in the latest fashions.

In the heart of the Capitol, deep in the Capitol Building, a few people weren't joining the festivities.

The soundproof room was dark and unlit. The only source of light came from the large screen centered against the front wall, illuminating an eerie white glow.

A group of people sat around a large, mahogany table in the center of the room. They were dressed modestly compared to the crowd outside. Simple, expensive business suits and dress suits, with just a dash of color here and there. All their hair seemed to be real and in their natural state.

A distinguished man in his mid-thirties sat at the end of the table. He seemed to be the one in charge, his aura radiating confidence and power. He was Head Gamemaker, Phoenix Potenza, or "Sir", as he's most often called. He glanced down at the fine gold watch on his left wrist, his thick brows furrowing with frustration and impatience.

He looked around, as if searching for a victim to target. His gaze fell on a handsome young man in his early twenties sitting to his left. "Prescott!" he barked. "Who are we waiting on?" he demanded, although he already knew the answer.

Prescott shifted nervously, shuffling the papers in front of him. "Sir," he stammered, his eyes darting to the empty seat at the head of the table. "Miss Metallica Silver, the President herself-" He was cut off abruptly.

The heavy oak door slammed open with force, blinding the room with a sudden shaft of light. A tall, slender figure in her mid-twenties appeared at the doorway. Her ripples of light blond hair (that appeared to be real) were curled to perfection, piled at the top of her head and held in place with a diamond clip. She wore a slim fitted, navy blue pencil skirt cut just below her knees, a matching blazer over a white button up. Somehow, she managed to make the bland, boring outfit appear sleek and stylish.

Balanced on her black wedges, she sashayed over to the head of the table, pausing to wink flirtatiously at Prescott, fluttering her impossibly long lashes over her emerald green eyes. Prescott shuffled uncomfortably, seeming flustered, though slightly pleased, at all the attention.

Metallica made a big show of settling down in her seat, leaning back against the headboard, straightening her posture, then carefully placing her large blue handbag on the table. Finally, her turned her attention to the crew.

"I'm so sorry to keep everyone waiting! I got a little delayed getting back from the salon, the traffic was horrible." She rolled her eyes, gesturing with her hands for emphasis, as if making her point. Either that or she was showing off her nails, which were freshly manicured and painted a light coral.

"I hope I didn't miss anything! But of course, you guys didn't start off without me, would you?" she smiled winningly, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth.

Phoenix cleared his throat, turning his steely glaze to her. He was one of the few men in the room who weren't affected by her presence. He wondered, for the umpteenth time, how she became President. He had always assumed that the only reason she was elected was because of her dad. Ex-President Silver, who was assassinated a year ago, and the best president Panem had yet. As a child, he had always looked up to him.

His one flaw was that he spoiled his only child Metallica, giving her anything and everything she wanted. That included the title of President of Panem. If she wanted it, he'd make it happen. She was actually quite bright and would make a worthy candidate if it wasn't for her obsession with beauty, fashion, and all those useless things. At least she was a good source for public events with her way with the crowd. She has been President for almost a year now, and the country hasn't gone into bankrupt yet.

That was a start.

"Of course not. We wouldn't dare start without our President, would we?" Phoenix said, offering just a hint of sarcasm. He smiled thinly, a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Phoenix turned to Prescott and nodded, cuing him to start. Prescott reached over for the remote, clicked, bringing the large screen to life. He turned to Metallica, who put down her lipstick and makeup compact, smiling attentively and giving a nod of encouragement.

"Um," Prescott began, stammering slightly. "Here are the arena plans for the Twenty-First Hunger Games." He clicked another button, and a slideshow lit up the screen. "We-as in Sir-um, Mr. Potenza and I"- he sneaked a quick, nervous glance at the Head Gamemaker. "We've decided this year's arena theme would be based on Olympus, the legendary home to the twelve Olympian gods in the ancient Greek world."

He flipped through the slides, diagrams and pictures showing a beautiful shot of a mountain side known as Mount Olympus. Atop the mountain, resting among the peaks was a huge palace. The palace was made of marble, sparkling silver, white and gold. Beyond that was a small Greek village.

The next diagram showed the inside of the palace. Marble steps led up the central courtyard, into the throne room. Towering thrones, each made to resemble one of the twelve Greek gods were arranged around the room.

The other side of the palace seemed like a whole different world. Crumbling, ancient Greece architecture lied in ruins. As Prescott exclaimed in his stuttering speech, the Cornucopia was to be placed inside the palace, in the middle of the throne room. That was where the Bloodbath will take place. He flipped through several other pages before the slide came to an end, showing a graph estimating the cost of the arena, and how much space it will take up.

Metallica nodded as the screen darkened once more. She glanced down at her diamond encrusted watch, as if worried she'd be late for her next appointment.

"So," she asked, turning to Phoenix. "Show me this year's tribute list."


End Note: Yeah, that's that. What do you think? Read and Review! Is the arena okay? Send in your tributes! *Tribute Form below. Tribute list will be posted in next chapter.


Tribute Form:

*Optional

Name:

*Nickname:

Gender:

Age (12-18):

District:

*Backup District:

Appearance (Hair, Eyes, Body type etc.):

Personality (Please be descriptive, the more details, the more likely I'll choose him/her):

Family:

Friends:

History:

*Relationship:

Reaped or Volunteered:

Reaction/Why:

*Reaping Outfit:

Pre-Games

Training Strategy:

*Training in front of the Game-Makers (ideas):

*Interview Outfit:

Interview Angle:

*Chariot Outfit (Ideas):

Skills

Strengths (Max 5):

Weaknesses (Min 3):

Fears:

For the rest please rate from 1-10 with 10 being perfect.

Aim:

Swimming:

Climbing:

Strength:

Social Skills:

Speed:

Pain Tolerance:

Knowledge of Edible Plants:

Balance:

Determination:

Stamina:

Optimism:

Pessimism:

Stealthiness (ability to sneak up on someone undetected):

Hiding abilities:

Games

Games Strategy:

*Allies (Y/N):

*Romance (Y/N, who? I'll take one romance at most. Personally, I think the idea is overdone):

*Token:

Career? (District 1 and 2 are automatic):

Bloodbath? (Will you die in it?):

Strategy for the Cornucopia:

View of Killing?

*Preferred Death?