A/N basically, I thought the world needed an Iggy hunger games/MR crossover. If anyone reviews, can you suggest a better name? I dislike this one… anyway, chapter one!

Cal POV

I stare at the baby blue dress with the cream sash spread on the dirty sheets of my bed. I hate it. It's beautiful, gorgeous to wear, and makes me feel like a princess, but I hate what it symbolised. Reaping Day. The day all of us in nine fear the most.

I recall past reaping days. The first, when I was twelve, my brother got taken. The second, at thirteen, my cousin. At fourteen, my sister, and at fifteen, last year, my best friend, Jet. I remember the crippling sadness when their names were called, and the deep, shameful relief that it wasn't me. But today, I have to face the ball of names again, where Calamity Jones appears sixteen times. This is because I need the tesserae to get food for my family- now just my mother and father, but before my sister and brother as well. Father can't get us the money to pay for food- he was incapacitated by an eagle attack while producing pets for the capitol.

I tug the dress over my head, and turn to look into the small, tarnished mirror. The baby blue, flowing skirt falls to just above my knees, and my waist is pinched in by the cream sash. My neck is encircled by the cream lace collar. I clasp on my only piece of jewellery, a tiny, delicate golden feather on a fine chain. I've decided that it would be my token if I get reaped. My light caramel hair is swishing around the tops of my thighs. I never cut my hair. There's no point. I frown with discomfort, as the too tight dress squashes my huge, tawny wings.

That's right, folks! I have wings and yes, I can fly. Bit of a shock for mother dear when she found out, that's for sure! But what do you expect living by five and their experimental explosives?

The hour has come sooner than I thought. My mother walks into the room, to take me to the reaping. She looks calm, but I could tell she thinks it is going to be me, next, from the terrified look in her eyes. I nod at her, and walk silently from the room. Not even my feet, in their impractical, cream patent shoes, tap on the stone floor. I emerge from our shabby, one-up-one-down house. Across the street, some teenagers call me.

"Cal!" I raise my hand to them, and walk over.

"Where're you going?" they ask.

To the reaping. I mime.

Why did I mime? You ask. Well, in a similar accident to the one that incapacitated my father, an eagle ripped my voice box out. I got off lightly. One boy, Iggy Griffiths, who worked next to me, got attacked as well. An eagle slashed his eyes, and he was blinded. He ran to help me once he'd seen what happened, and he was unlucky that the eagle was diving again.

The reaping arena is in front of me now, after a walk of listening to the others' conversation and trying to contribute to conversation- unsuccessfully. We separate, the boys to the far left of the square, and the girls to the right. I spot some girls and guys from my class in school. I frown as I walk into formation, thinking that this will be the first year that I and Jet won't do our traditional "and may the odds be ever in your favour!"

I stand rigidly in formation, now cold in my stupid dress. I think about how the Hunger Games have taken almost everyone I loved. My brother was killed by a career, my cousin starved to death, my sister was swallowed by a volcanic eruption and Jet was killed by that career that turned cannibal and began to eat his victims. And the capitol finds entertainment in innocent children getting slaughtered!

The bright, jovial voice of Cherry Blossom, our district's escort, rings out across the square, suggesting celebration and excitement. The whole of nine glares at her in stony silence. Cherry looks perplexed, she has never quite grasped the fact that we don't enjoy sending our families off to their doom. However, she soldiers on, and introduced our district's only mentor, Felix Stevenson, who has already crept on stage, as silently as a cat, and startled her.

Felix himself won his games by just staying out of the way. Whenever he encountered a tribute, he just snuck off and waited for all the others to kill each other. I, personally, think that that was an excellent tactic, and one that I would employ if I were to get chosen.

"Happy hunger games!" calls Cherry "and may the odds be ever in your favour!" nine is silent. I love my district. She blunders for a second, but recovers herself.

"Ladies first!" she trills, and plunges her hand into the faintly pink tinted glass ball. She pulls out a name, and reads it aloud.

"Emma Smith!" she calls and a small twelve year old gives a cry. I remember dimly that her tesserae was all that kept her family alive this year. I almost let out a gasp of surprise. My only surviving cousin, called at the reaping! Are they trying to eliminate everyone I'm connected to? Then I realise. I'm the link. For some reason the capitol hates me. I can't let anyone else get hurt.

A gasp ran round the square, and I could hear my mother crying, Emma thanking me loudly, and Iggy Griffiths saying "what is it? What happened?" Cherry looks completely nonplussed, then recovers herself and begins clapping brightly. Alone. I wonder what it is like inside her head. It is probably all rainbow-y. With a few unicorns wandering around as well.

"Now for the boys!" she calls out, and then pulls a second name from a slightly blue tinted glass ball.

"Iggy Griffiths!"