Disclaimer: I do not own PJO/HoO; rights go to Rick Riordan. I also do not own The Hunger Games; rights to that go to Suzanne Collins.

Author's Note: Lightly edited on 3/27/14

"I volunteer as tribute."

We stared at the screen, wondering what the hell was wrong with this kid...

"Yo, Nico! Get out of whatever little nook you found and get up! It's the day of the Reaping!" a voice yelled, resonating through the small house. The floor was littered with white crayons, black paper, and scrap metal (the metal was Cameron's fault). The voice waited outside until a small boy walked through the unlocked door.

"Couldn't think of a better way to wake me up, Cameron?" Nico asked. He mentally noted his own rumpled hair and clothing, and that he should fix it before the Reaping, no matter how much he hated it. Then again, most people hated the Reaping, but that was beside the point.

"C'mon, I don't know where you came from," Cameron began, using his trademark, as Nico started calling it, "but I know where you are going. You got, like, an hour."

Cameron scrambled away, probably to scavenge something for his own family of two sons and two parents. Family, Nico thought, What a foreign word these days. He walked back into the house (if it can be considered that) and looked under old pieces of paper and metal in search of food. He didn't own much - just a few sets of clothes and one pair of shoes - and he didn't eat that much, either. After nibbling on an apple that had been protected by one of the metal contraptions, which was protected by a white drawing of a bird (Jabberjay? Bluejay? An angel?), he straightened out his clothing and hair as best as he could, re-tied his sneakers, and set off to find Cameron once again.

Each and every Valdez is a freaking carbon copy, Nico thought when he finally ran into Cameron again, who, unsurprisingly, was fiddling with a few twigs, probably building something that will help with nothing whatsoever. Cameron, although 3 years older, was the only one who scarcely noticed little Nico, who constantly had to point out he was not little, and just because that short idiot was taller than him doesn't mean - nevermind. Stupid ADHD (at least that was what he heard it was called). The point was, Nico was practically invisible. Sometimes, he would glance down to make sure he wasn't becoming transparent, even though seeming that way did have its perks.

This included having nearly no problems stealing food and water and cloth to sew onto his pants when they got too short (he never grew out of his all-black shirts or jacket; Cameron said because he was too goddamn skinny, Nico said it was only because his legs were growing insanely long compared to the rest of his body, but not before pointing out that Cameron was scrawny as hell too). He also generated a habit of camping out in small crevices without discovery. The lack of people discovering him was definitely a good thing, because most people don't like finding someone who looks half dead on their way to work. So I said that District 3 was - oh my! Zombie kid!

As expected, that was how the rest of the twelve year olds reacted to him at the Reaping. They gave him the widest berth as possible in their roped section, which somehow led him to think about Cameron's remark an hour earlier (and many of times before that). It was true no one knew where Nico was from. For crying out loud, Nico himself didn't know where he came from. All he could remember was a few soldier dudes dragging him and Bianca out of a large door and onto an aircraft carrier, which was something he had never seen, soon to be dropped off in the so called District 3 (out of twelve, or thirteen, or whatever). Bianca. Nico repeated the word in his mind, ignoring the other side of his brain protesting against it. Why the hell are you thinking of her at a time like this? Shut up!

As if everyone heard the last line of his mental chanting, the crowd went silent. Nico glanced back at Cameron, who was in line with the other fifteen year olds. Cameron returned the glance with a nervous smile. He had his name entered more times than needed, in order to get the tessera for his family. He was oldest, and cared way too much to let his 13 year old brother put in any extra slips until Cameron was could no longer be entered. Nico's name was entered twice; the first slip required, the second for his own tessera. It was his first year he was worrying about getting called up himself instead of his sister, or no one at all. The speech turned out to be a blur, and Nico didn't bother listening until the familiar name of the male tribute was called.

"Cameron Valdez."

Nico stared at a shocked, stammering Cameron, and after introductions, the announcer asked for volunteers. After the initial silence, a voice cut through. A small, raspy voice (much to the owner's dismay), that must of hurt his throat. It reminded Cameron of a baby bird. Or a crow. Or a pitch black raven. Yes, a pitch-black raven was most appropriate for both the person and the occasion.

"I volunteer as tribute."

Said tribute was led to the stage. He took place of the curly haired boy, giving him a pat on the back while mentally beating himself up. Dimwit. Stupid. Look what you did. Why the hell did you do it? Did you do it for her? For him? Do you want to die? Is this like some sort of twisted suicide attempt? These types of thoughts kept running through Nico Di Angelo's head. Now he occupied the space left for him on the stage, sticking out an icy hand to the female tribute, who was an older girl, Cameron's age, perhaps, with blond hair and green eyes that churned around like the sea. One of those famous Jackson descendents, those eyes told.

"Well, let the games begin."

Yeah, alright. Nico has played enough games to learn it might be over any second. Not that he really could bring himself to mind.

Author's Note: I'm not sure how often updates are going to be, since there is school, this is my first multi chapter story, and I want to make sure each chapter is 1000+ words. Please review and all that. Not sure how long this will go on for, but I do know how I am going to end it. And its like 2:15 A.M. here so i don't mind any corrections.Thanks for reading!