Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy. Suzanne Collins does.

Let me know how you guys like this. I'm not sure if I want to continue, it was just something on my mind.

. . .

My name is Iris Delani. My name means "rainbow" in the ancient language of Greek. Obviously, I am from District 1.

I won the Hunger Games three years ago, but only because I got lucky. I won't revisit those memories on purpose, so I refuse to give you details. But you will see how I fare in the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games, because this is the Quarter Quell.

The Hunger Games, you see, are a punishment for the districts rebelling against the Capital during the Dark Days. No one blames them, since the Capital is filled with... well, you'll find out soon enough. Anyway, every year, two people between the ages of twelve and eighteen are chosen at random from each district to participate in the Games. The point is to be the last one standing at all costs. Yes, that means we all kill each other. No, it's not fake. It's very, very real. And it's been made into something to be celebrated. To party over the deaths of our children. Yes. Twenty-three children die every year because they kill each other to survive.

I've already done it once, and I thought it was over. But every twenty-five years, there's a twist that happens, something even more hellish. Last time, there were twice as many tributes (which are the children sent for slaughter). This time, the tributes were chosen from those who had already won the Games.

It was supposed to be over. We were all supposed to live out the rest of our lives without having to endure the Games again. But President Snow is the spawn of Satan himself and doesn't care about those left to die. He only cares about discipline and his own entertainment. So here I am, on the train going back to a place I swore I'd never see again, going to my death.

Katniss' POV

Peeta and I sit next to each other, watching the recap of the reaping. One of the tributes is Johanna Mason, the girl from District 7 who'd pretended to be weak before she killed the rest of the kids. Another is Finnick Odair, a handsome man from District 4. The girl from District 1 surprises me, though. She doesn't look well fed and rich like the others from her district. Sure, she wears fashionable clothes, and her hair is nice and glossy, but she lacks the shape and weight of the District 1 tributes I normally see. Another thing she lacks is the vigor and pride of someone chosen. Her area is normally one with Careers, or tributes who train for the Hunger Games. But her eyes only show fear and resentment, an expression that is echoed on many other faces throughout the reaping. She isn't proud, like her male counterpart. She's disgusted.

"Iris doesn't look happy." Peeta comments.

"Hm. What?" I ask distractedly. "Who's Iris?"

"District One girl." he answers. "They just said her name. She looks like she'd rather be anywhere else."

"Who can blame her?" I ask, sighing a little.

He shrugs. "I'm just saying, it might give us a leg up in the arena."

I choose not to look at him. By saying "us" I know he means me.