A/N: Yeah, I know, it's been quite a while. Personal stuff. Life. Anyway, I just went and re-watched The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay Part 1, and I decided I'd put some words on a page about them now. This will most likely be a one or two shot, depending on how much time I have and if I like how it goes.
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I crouched down, vying for one last glimpse of my stylist. The last friendly face I'd see for the rest of my life, I thought, before the concrete barrier of the underside of the Capital's arena overtook the view from my glass elevator. A few seconds later, and the bright light of simulated sunshine engulfed my view. I raised my arm to shadow my eyes and get a better look at my competitors. Twenty-three other teens stood on equally separated podiums around the grassy field. The Cornucopia was full of various weapons, spears, swords, a few glaives and flails. Near the very center on an elevated small table, were several firearms. The topmost of was an International Arctic Warfare rifle, which, although a relic of the past, was surely the prize of the bloodbath that was starting in a mere thirty seconds.
The twelve other boys and eleven other girls around me tensed, prepared for the siren that would end several lives. A few tributes to my left was a boy who looked a force to be reckoned with. If his large torso, tree-like arms, and fearsome demeanor weren't intimidating enough, he was also an incredible sprinter, as everyone has witnessed on the training grounds track.
My plan? Well, to be honest, I only had one plan, which was to run. Great plan, you must be thinking, but I have some ground, trust me. Even I wasn't completely sure how I was going to survive the arena, but explaining isn't the way to go. Show not tell, right?
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I'd been in the Capital for three days, and to say the least, it was interesting. Of course, the third day was when training began. The only other tribute I'd met so far was the boy who was also reaped from my district. He didn't talk much, to be honest, but what I had gotten out of him, he was 18, his name was Colin, and he was strong. The last bit was obvious, as he looked like the Hulk had decided to start on steroids. The entire district burst into cheering when he took the stage. I did too, because there looked like there was no fesable way he was going to die in there.
We were led down to the training grounds by our mentor and previous district champion, who went only by the name Foxface. Her victory in the 74th Hunger Games was nothing less than spectacular, as she relied only on stealth and a small knife to survive. Since we were from District 7, we were on the seventh floor up from the training facility. Once we arrived, we were greeted by an official of some sort who laid down the laws of the land for us, just in case we didn't know not to kill each other before the games actually began. It was right then and there that Colin initiated a conversation with me. He drew me over to a bench, sat down and gave me this, slightly broken, tip.
"Do not worry about weapons, worry about yourself. You have good, strong, long legs. Tired tributes fight weaker than strong ones. Good swings don't come when you're tired out from running. If you bait people, get them chasing you, you can make them tired and beat them with your energy." He pointed out, as he gave me a thumbs up before getting up and joining the rest of the tributes.
That stuck with me. I sat for a bit, thinking, wondering, questioning. When I could think no more, I stood up and made my way outside to the small track and resigned myself to running laps. I was already a half-decent runner, but I'd never timed myself at long-distance. Maybe I am just a natural, but after clocking a few mile laps, I compared it to averages over the last few years, and I was easily a few minutes ahead. There was only one other tribute on the track, although she didn't look as apt for running as I. We chatted briefly, compared times, and wished each other good fortune in the upcoming Deathmatch.
The next few days, I ran my tail off. I improved my own time by a bit, ate as healthy as I could, and trained a bit with the pistols and SMGs, as well as the glaive and swords, but I spent the most time on the IAW, just to be safe. I guess I was as prepped as I'd ever be, and my interview with Cesaer reflected that rather well. I'm not sure how I came off to the Capital, but Foxface said that it really didn't matter, since sponsorships can only be used if I am alive.
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I gave the podiums one last sweeping gaze, and noticed that Colin had asked for wraps for his hands as his Last Right. Starting at the fourth Quarter Quell, each tribute was given a Last Right, or, an item or last request before entering the arena, although each needed to be approved by the Gamemakers. After my demonstration, I had asked for a pair of running shoes, instead of the standard all-terrain footwear the Capital provided. I looked down at my feet, confirming the shoes were in fact still there. To be honest, I was beginning to freak out. The clock read fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds until all hell broke loose. I could hear the tributes to my right and left hyperventilating, same as I. Shaking my head to clear my mind, I crouched down in a sprinter's position, ready to take off for the silver cornucopia that would decide life or death for the twenty-four of us. Here it comes, I told myself, as the giant display neared the end of its sixty seconds.
Ten
Nine
Eight
Seven
Six
Five
I flinched, hearing a large explosion to my right. I looked over as the clock added ten seconds to itself and a cannon boomed in the distance. A tribute had attempted to take off early, and paid the ultimate price, I assumed. The Games hadn't even started yet and one of us had died. I only wondered who was next.
Five
Four
Three
Two
One
A siren flared off as the twenty three remaining teens raced for the giant mock-goat's horn in the center of the field. The games had begun.
So, continue or leave it there? That's why there's a comment section guys! If enough people want to know what'll happen to our unnamed protagonist, maybe I'll add more. Until then, I've been Pix, and I'll see you next time!