A/N: I've always loved the Hunger Games books, but I'll admit, I never gave much thought to any romance/infatuation in the career pack at all, except maybe Clove and Cato might've been friends (friends only) before the Games, because of when Cato begged Clove to stay alive. But after seeing the movie-twice!- I decided that I will absolutely ship Glimmer/Cato. Now, before you think, Glimmer and Cato? What the Hell? you should see the movie-I highly recommend it- Glimmer and Cato flirt and she even falls asleep cuddled in his arms. It's really, really cute. =) This is my version of the Hunger Games, in which certain people die in place of others, and the victor is yet to be determined….sort of.

I don't own Hunger Games, but I wish I did.

~Glimmer's Point Of View~

As soon as my brother lets go of my hand, I immediately want to reach out and snatch it up again. I don't feel as safe without him standing next to me; I feel vulnerable and slightly frightened.

But I'll never tell anyone that.

As far as anyone is concerned, I'm just like every other person from District 1: Fierce and bloodthirsty, willing to fight for the slot as female district tribute, and willing to slaughter to bring unneeded prosperity and publicity to my district.

But I'm not. Not even close.

Maybe I was, once. But that flame was stomped out as soon as my older brother, Smolder, was Reaped when I was 9 years old. I had already begun Tribute Training, just as every other kid my age in my District had, but I guess I hadn't really processed what being a Tribute meant, in the end- murdering innocent people, and being murdered yourself. Oh, but, my brother being Reaped definitely straightened me out. As soon as his name was called out, an extreme cold traveled down my spine, right to my very core. Realization hit me like a ton of bricks: I might lose my brother. Forever.

Of course, that was ridiculous, I shouldn't have had to worry: His name had barely been spoken and about five people had shot up immediately, volunteering.

But it had scared the shit out of me.

However, I couldn't let it show; couldn't tell anyone. If anyone knew, I'd be viewed as weak. My family wouldn't exactly disown me, but there would be a thick, black cloud hanging above all of our heads; it'd never be the same, they'd always be disappointed with me.

So instead, I busied myself with training. I trained long and hard, learned to mask my emotions. I showed no fear, no mercy, no vulnerability. I distanced myself form everyone but my family, and perfected a cold and calculating look. I learned to work people, to get what I wanted, no matter what I had to do.

I was tough, no doubt about it. I was decent with a sword, wicked with a spear, but absolutely deadly with a crossbow. I was clever, but not too clever, and smart, but not exactly school smart. More like people smart, if you know what I mean.

For the most part, I was half-feared, half-admired, but that was mainly by the younger people. I was actually at about the same level as about 10 others my age, but the eleven of us, we were good. We were what you might call the Top of the Class. I excelled in combat, better than most, if I do say so myself. Which I do. And so does my trainer.

Not that I'm bragging or anything.

"Welcome, welcome!" Fabio Surpile announced into the microphone, breaking me out of my reverie.

Fabio was a short, stocky, buff guy, who would, if he wasn't tinged head to toe in purple, look like a frequent kickass bar brawler. His hair was powdered green this time around, complementing his lavender purple face. Orange swirls curled upward around his eyes, more than likely stick-on lashes.

"Let's get to it, shall we?" With a jolt, I realized they'd already played the Panem Anthem, read the Treaty of Treason, and showed the accompanying video.

Listen up, bitch. Pay attention. I scold myself, making my face contort back into its now-usual expression: bottom lip thin, top lip normal, eyes narrowed in glinting with fierceness. I roll my shoulders back and allow my eyes to flick over to where Smolder now stands, next to my parents. He was 19 now, so he didn't have to worry about the Reaping. I try to convince myself that I will be alright; I don't have to worry about a tesserea, so my name is in the same amount of times as just about everyone else my age, save for a few. If I am Reaped, on the off-chance, there is sure to be a volunteer to take my place. In fact, there was likely to be a brawl to take my spot.

However, if I wasn't Reaped, I would have to volunteer, to keep up my reputation. Wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea, and think I was a wimpy weakling.

Normally, the oldest to volunteer gets Tribute rights, if more than one person volunteers at the same time. But if a twelve year old shouts out "I volunteer!" before anyone else, even if an 18-year-old wants to volunteer, the twelve year old gets the coveted spot: First come, first serve. If three people volunteer at once, and any of them are the same age and the oldest to volunteer, they will literally fight it out to get Tribute rights. That's just how it is here in District 1.

With this in mind, I remind myself that I won't have to die, and won't have to fight innocent people.

And then Fabio drops the bombshell.

"It has recently come to our attention that many of you who were originally Reaped in the past, and someone has volunteered and taken your place, feel, well, robbed." Fabio flashes a sheepish smile. "So, this year, it will be up to the original Tribute to decide whether or not someone may take their place. If so, then Volunteers may, well, volunteer." He chuckles.

With that, he jumps over to the right side of the stage, and plunges his hand into the large crystal ball. He unceremoniously plucks a card out and gallops back over to the mic. He rips it over, reads the name to himself, and smiles.

"Well, our courageous boy Tribute this year is…..Marvel Windhill!" Fabio claps, a clear signal for all of us to clap as well.

I watch Marvel as he swaggers up to the stage, a smirk playing on his face. He doesn't even give Fabio a chance to ask when he says, "I'm in it to win it!"

With that, the crowd erupts into cheers and catcalls. Marvel's lazy grin only grows wider.

"Now for the girls!" Fabio cheers, racing to the left side, the girls' side.

I barely have time to swallow and hope it isn't me before the card is in Fabio's hand. He races back to the microphone, a wide grin on his face as he opens the card.

Notmenotmenotme-

"And this year's girl Tribute for the 74th annual Hunger Games is….."

Notmenotmenotme

"Glimmer Moran!"

My breath hitches and my heart stops. I'm cold to the core again, just like I was when I was nine.

Only this time, I feel frozen, because I know I cannot allow someone to take my place, be called forever weak. I know I must accept.

I am female Tribute for the 74th annnual Hunger Games.

And I am going to die.

A/N: Reviews cue faster updates! Seriously! =) Leave your thoughts, and she meets Cato next chapter!

Read on and Rock out,

NinjaNakkiOfCabin11