74th Annual Hunger Games!
The sun beat down on the square in District 4. Thousands of people milled about, from the ages of twelve to eighteen. In the background, the sound of roaring waves faded in and out as they crashed upon the shore. The smell of the sea was in the air; a salty tang in the back of the throats of those whom lived in this tropical land. The sea stretched for miles and miles, father than the eye could see. It was a rich blue with a hue of green to it, relentlessly attacking and abating the rocks and sand on the shore. To many it seemed wild and frightening, but to Lamar it was comforting, it was the sound of home.
Lamar wasn't overly tall, or overly intimidating, but he was friendly. People easily misjudged him though, for his strength was that to a man twice his size. He grinned, a bloody grin really, that would make people shy away from him for they may think that he wasn't right in the head. His family was one that housed victors from the Hunger Games. They were known as the Careers in the Games because of the fact that they trained for the Games for honour and glory to bring to their family names. Lamar stood at the edge of the crowd, waiting to be submitted. At the entry, they were required to give their blood to ensure that everyone was present for the reaping. As the line moved along, he couldn't help but continue to smile. He was eighteen, finally. At that age, his family was given the right to volunteer. It was an old family tradition that included all of the families in the victor's village. He was the only eighteen-year-old male. It was his turn at last to enter the games and bring his family honour. He would make his mother proud.
A slight prick of his finger and he was lining up with the rest of the members of his district. Voices chattered excitedly, sounding somewhat like the gulls that shrieked above them. Nasty birds they were, always looking for scraps of food from the nearby watchers. Somewhere a girl screeches, most likely bitten by one of the relentless feathered creatures that swooped above them. The scream made Lamar's blood fizz with excitement. Oh, he was a piece of work that was for sure. He had been raised for this, a killer to the core.
"Welcome all District Four members!" A rich voice interrupted Lamar's twisted thoughts on how he could make that girl cry more. "We have gathered here today for the reaping of the 74th annual Hunger Games!"
The voice belonged to that of Marna Paine, the escort of District 4. She always made the announcements, as the Mayor had no taste for being out in public. She was young, new to the job as of last year. Surprisingly, she looked fairly normal this year, with copper tied back. She had a tattoo though, that reached out from under her skintight green dress, that wrapped its way around her neck the final of the swirling blue gold patterns resting around her left eye. She was stunning really, with high pointed cheekbones and deep blue eyes that in no way were natural, but captivating.
"We are fortunate to be here today, by the grace and love of our dear capital Panem. It has watched over us for years, and will continue to do so. As thanks to the Capital for their protection, the districts will offer up in tribute one male and one female for the chance of honour to be the victor of the Hunger Games. This historic game has kept the peace for nearly a century since the uprising of the districts. Because of Panem's wondrous mercy we had the birth of the Hunger Games to keep the peace for years to come. God Bless Panem!" She cried out. The people in the square cheered, raising one hand in the air in respect. Marna let them cheer for a minute or two before raising her hand for silence.
"Now, for the reaping!" Applause and cries broke out again as she reached her hand into a large bowl, woven out of sea weed and dried for this event. Marna pulled out a white slip of paper. A quiet hush fell over the mass. "Gloria Rilea!"
Lamar snorted. She was a 16-year-old girl, very weak and innocent. As she approached the stage, he could feel her fear. She was well fed, as she was the daughter of a major fisherman, with ash blonde hair and blue eyes. She was pretty. That was the extent of her charm Lamar thought. He would enjoy killing this girl. He would pluck her like a bird and leave her squealing. Malice thrummed in his veins.
"Welcome Gloria, you are a lucky woman today," Marna greeted her. She wasn't much of a socialist, so she moved on right away to the next bowl, darker in colour to represent the boys.
"The male contestant will be… Samuel Slones!" A groan answered her. He was a scrawny little child from the poor part of town. Oh well, they all knew he wouldn't be standing there for long.
"Before congratulations are in order, I will call for female volunteer. No? No takers this year? Alright then, is there a male volunteer who would like to participate is this year's games?" Marnas eyes rested on Lamar. Smothering the smile from his lips, he humbly made his way to the stage.
"I will volunteer. Samuel, I can't let you go in the ring. You are no contender," He said, offering his hand to the thin shaking boy. He recoiled fearfully and stumbled his way to the other set of stairs. He was probably remembering the numerous beatings that Lamar had offered him. Still keeping the smile from his lips, Lamar raised his left hand into the air to the people of his district. They began to cheer. They truly believed they would have a victor this year. The smile returned.
A fish. Lamar shook his head in disgust and tossed the outfit across the room. A fish covered in sparkling scales. His stylist was a fool. There was nothing intimidating or desirable about being dressed as a silly creature from the sea. He should have chosen a god of the ocean or something. Anything was better than a flipping little guppy; especially next to the pair from district 12. He bared his teeth in a silent snarl. They would both pay for attracting so much attention to themselves. They couldn't just be normal like the rest of them. They had to hold hands, act all cheerful and literally outshine everyone. No sponsor would look to him now. Hatred flowed through his body. Lashing out he shattered a mirror on a side table. The glass glittered through the air, burying them in the carpet with quick efficiency. He nodded in approval. The avoxes would have a time and a half getting that out. Storming out of the room, he left for dinner.
The three days of training went quickly. He passed tests, and played with the swords, knifes and spears available. He even spent a little time fiddling with a trident that launched spikes out of the tips. He found that weapon considerably amusing. Lamar watched the other tributes. There was one from eleven that unnerved him a little. The other Career Tributes were their normal selves, cocky and arrogant. But this man from the agriculture district, he was something else altogether: silent and powerful. Lamar narrowed his eyes, trying to decide establish the best way to kill him. He knew not to get near that deadly embrace. It would crush him. He wasn't much of the long distance type though. He would leave him until last if possible and hope that he wasn't resourceful and would be diminished by the lack of provisions he would manage to get away from at the cornucopia. Lamar shook the thoughts out of his head and threw a spear. It stabbed into the middle of the dummy; if anything that would work.
Lamar hated people. He had always disliked them. Worse for him, he loathed standing in a room with 23 others of them. They were waiting for their private sessions. Most of those that he saw around him were very largely built, though the poorer district tributes looked rather frail. He ignored them. It was the only thing that he could do to keep him in check. They began to get called in one by one. First the district one people, which both have ridiculous names might he add. Then two, who also have strange names in his opinion. The tech kids went after that. There was some plan going on between the boy of the district and the other careers. They had tried to get him to join it but he declined. Then Gloria went in, muttering profanities under her breath. He had to credit her on her ability to swear like a fiend. It almost made him like her how impressive she could drop word bombs. Really good at insulting too, seems he hadn't known her very well back at their home city. He was pretty sure though that she had no idea what she was going to do though. It made him smirk.
Then it was he. He was being called. Confidently he strode into the room. The scent of wine and roasting food hit him. With ease he ignored it and decided on an explosive entrance. He took off running, ducked and rolled, grabbed a short sword off the wall as he did so. He came to his feet and kicked off from the ground, severing off the head of a dummy. He landed on the ground face down, pressing the flat of the blade against the ground. He stood slowly; making it screech along the ground, one of those horrendous sounds that make your skin crawl. He faced the game makers. They all seemed relatively impressed at his ferocity.
"Lamar, district four," He said politely, giving a little blow. Someone chucked a little. Someone told him to proceed. Lamar began a series of poses and stances with the blade in his hand. Slowly he sped up until his feet were flying. He could see the enemies in his mind. Sweat began to bead at his brow and gather under his arms. At the final moment he flung the sword end over end, hoping that it would land where he wanted. It did. To his relief the blade stuck out of a dummy's head. He had managed this trick once. It was a bold move to try and do it in case of failure, but he did not disappoint the game maker.
"Thank you, you may go now," Seneca Crane said, nodding towards the door. Nodding his head once more, Lamar made his way to the exit, knowing how well he had done. Confidence lit in his mind and glowed like a beacon in the dark. One more step to go and he could prove his worth in the arena.
The interview was a breeze. He was easy going and confidant, thankfully dressed simply in a suit. After pulling a ten in training, and something so open and friendly, he knew he would have sponsors for sure. His suit had shimmered a little, which had annoyed him. Lamar put it behind him. The Games began tomorrow. He had kept that in mind during the whole thing and had kept his spirits light. He would return, and he told the audience to get used to him, because he would be back years to come. Caesar had told him he believed him without a doubt. Lamar settled into the covers of his bed, and fell into a deep sleep, in which he dreamed of winning the Hunger Games.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the 74th Hunger Games begin!"
Lamar blinked in the sunlight that beamed down on his face, and reflected off the cornucopia. It flashed and reflected the sun behind him. He couldn't seem to get the light out of his eyes. He panicked for a moment, he was on the far end, away from the weapons and supplies that he would need.
Calming his breath, the last thirty seconds soothed him. He relaxed for a moment, and then tensed his muscles, ready to run. He could see a sword hilt poking out of the corner of the golden horn. That was all he needed. He knew all the edible plants in the area, and could get meat by hiding and slashing. He would be just fine. All he needed was that one blade. Ten seconds to go. A clock began to count down, warning the tributes to be ready to follow through with any plan that they had deceived. Lamar narrowed his focus to the blade. There were only weak tributes around him. He wouldn't have to worry about them getting in his way. Get the sword and go.
The gong rang deep in his mind, and Lamar sprang into action. His legs propelled him forward, arms pumping at his sides. He leaped, grabbed the hilt of the sword and rolled to his feet. He ducked at a spear went flying over his head, and slashed behind him at a tribute that had been trying to sneak up on him. It had been a weakling from 8. She dropped to the ground beside him, her guts pouring out of her stomach. He snorted at how pathetic she was, thinking that she would get passed him. He stayed hidden in the corner of the cornucopia for a moment, then saw a break. He flashed out, making a break for the trees. He hadn't made it three paces when something struck his leg.
The ground rushed up to meet him. Dropping the blade, Lamar rolled and avoided landing on it or hitting the earth too hard. Blood sprayed him in the face, warm, wet and sticky. Glancing at his leg, he nearly fainted at the sight. Crimson flowed from it freely, and he could see the pale white of his bone. Funny, he didn't feel any pain. He didn't know whether or not to be worried by that. He ripped off a part of his pants and tied it tightly around the wound. The blood still didn't stop flowing. He ripped off his other pant leg and tried to tie it around the cut too. His fingers fumbled, he couldn't seem to do it. His chest seemed to be getting heavier, and breathing harder. All of a sudden, he was so tired. Forgetting about his leg he let his head fall back down, relaxing into the grass.
The sun was still above him, shinning into his eyes. For the first time, he became aware how warm it was, and how soft and springy the grass was under him. The sky was so blue, that baby blue that was the same of his home, with not a cloud in sight. For a moment, he realized he could even hear waves, not ocean ones but soft and lapping. He looked to his left and saw a lake. How had he missed that before? He smiled. It was so nice, the way it seemed to sparkle as it reflected the same light that shone down on him.
This is a nice place to die, Lamar thought. Maybe that is why the arenas were usually nice. That way the tributes could go without fear. Then his slow mind clued in. He was dying. He wouldn't win the games, go home and see his beloved ocean again. He would never again return to the capital. He became afraid for only a moment. No, he would face his death. He would not try and hide from it. He forced himself to relax again, becoming conscious of how dark his vision was going around the edges. A smile crossed his lips. Maybe dying wasn't so bad after all, there didn't seem to be any pain. Vaguely somewhere in the back of head, he knew that was because his nerves were severed, but he didn't mind. It seemed so easy. Just let go.
A cannon fired. The girl from district 8 smiled from her position on the ground. She cursed him in her mind for thinking he had killed her. She could die now. She had her revenge and honour. She let go of the pain that had been attacking her mind and slipped away. Her cannon fired too.