Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with the prologue to Death Under the Sky, the sequel to Capitol's Strike. I am ready to do my first ever SYOT, and it'll be quite the wild ride. The information required for PM submission are at the end of this chapter, and I'll have a track of tributes submitted on my profile immediately after this is up. Enjoy the brief prologue, and get away to submitting by what the rules say, please and thank you.
Cranston Ervack: Victor of the 1st Hunger Games (17)
The alarm goes off before he can scream at it, and he's pissed, cussing and throwing things all over the room. "Caelan, what did I say to you about having my alarm clock be turned on this early?"
Current Head Interviewer, promoted after the immediate end of last year's games, pokes his head through the doorway, grinning devilishly. "I don't remember such a thing," he laughs, ducking under a thrown vase at his head. "If I did, I wouldn't have set it."
"Son of a bitch!" Cranston hisses, falling back to his covers.
"Darling, I'm sorry, but you need to get ready. As do I. Don't you remember what today is?"
His boyfriend's words love him stunned, and he's scrambling up on the sheets. "No, no, no, no! Not today!"
Caelan abandons whatever kept him busy in the kitchen of their Capitol apartment, and he's hugging him all over, kissing wherever it hurt. "Stop. Cranston, you need to stop. Jerald will be here any minute to fly you out to District 1. I-"
"I'm not going anywhere with him." Cranston spits out, face twisted in anger.
"I thought you liked them!"
"Jerald and Ammadeus are amazing people, governing the worst creations alive in human history. It's these stupid, stupid games that's got me riled up. How many times a day do I mutter Rye's name again?"
"Around eighty." Caelan counted on his fingers.
"That's seventy-nine times too many." Cranston murmurs, slinking out of bed, practically limping to the shower.
Today was reaping day, Hunger Games year number two ready to get off the ground. The president didn't want to do participate, he wished it could've died in a folder somewhere on his desk years ago, blinded by anger and bitter hatred for those who truly never did anything wrong. In a society such as one directed by Panem, that was never, ever possible. Head Gamemaker Jerald Donner was going to be at Cranston's apartment by the hour, ready to take him to the first district of Panem where a boy and girl between the ages of 12-18 would be selected to fight in the death against 22 other selected 'tributes' as the citizens of the Capitol called them. The first year, Cranston's major win which was not a win in the slightest, took like wildfire to the citizens, and a new call was made: engineer more Hunger Games or watch as the fragile system of Panem collapsed underneath a tide of anger and resentment. Ammadeus Snow, current president and leader of Panem could only comply. Two voices against 50,000 was a much harder battle to fight.
Cranston turns on the shower, stepping into the four by four tile container. A stream of frigid water splashes against his skin, and he shudders. Felt like blood to him, something so familiar it didn't affect him that much. Depended on who that blood came from, was the deterrent. Memories of last year hit him like bullets. Rye's suicide, Eve's insanity, Mako's blood dripping teeth filed into sharp fangs, Velvet's slashed chest from a wolf, his own tears and screams that echoed off into the night. Remembering the hellish times in the arena was not a plus for him, nor would it ever be.
The scent of coconut wafts into his nose, one smell found everywhere in the Capitol. Didn't matter what shower or room you decided to bathe in, you'd find the bottle somewhere. "Hah," he thinks to himself. "I liked it better bathing in the mud and blood of my allies. Times when an arrow in the knee was the worst injury I could sustain before being driven mad."
There is a knock on the door to the bathroom, although he can't hear it over the running water. Calean's comforting voice can be barely heard over the torrent of water, but Cranston's so far gone in his world that it doesn't matter who is speaking to him, he'll ignore and go around like normal. "I love you Cranston! Call me if you need some assurance." the Head Interviewer calls from the outside of the bathroom, footsteps dissipating, soft dulls and echoes vanishing away.
Cranston washes his arms, lathes his hair, and lets the soap run, run, and run. Standing under the shower head, simpler times couldn't be more prevalent to the only standing victor. One from District 8, which was a surprise to all. Having an upfront group called the Careers, many expected them to win, such a cost in being in the Hunger Games.
Half an hour later, the shower is turned off, Cranston is clean, and all thoughts of any dark foreboding scenarios have disappeared from his mind. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out of the foggy world that was the bathroom into the pallid and posh living room only to be scared out of his wits.
"What the living hell?" he shouts, covering himself up even further as he gets an full eye view of Jerald Donner, Head Gamemaker sitting on his couch, martini in one hand, a manila folder in the other.
Jerald grins humorously. "So this is what you look like in the morning, bare chested." he smirks.
Cranston's face transforms from shock, to happiness, then to anger. "What are you doing in Caelan and I's apartment?"
"Picking you up for the reaping."
"But..."
"You were in that shower for nearly half an hour Mr. Ervack. I had to get you out of there. Had you been any longer, I would've dragged you out myself," Jerald reminds the victor. "We are on a schedule, one that has demands unlike any other. For the past nine months, you've acted as a normal human being. Today, you're a victor."
Cranston pulls up on the towel, scowling for full effect. "As if I was ever a normal human being, Jerald."
"How couth." the Head Gamemaker purses his lips.
The victor walks behind the couch, to the dresser slammed into the backside. He digs into the mess of clothes and other assortments, putting on a simple cotton sweater and leather jacket, by Capitol standards it was below sub par, worse than mediocre. A long mirror replaces where the TV would be, and he stares at himself hollowly, waiting for a specter to reach through and grab him. Sometimes his reflection became the worst monster of them all. "I was the one who fired those arrows, who killed them. No one told me what to do. It's their deaths on my hands. Their blood dripping off of my fingertips."
"I'm not concerned with being couth," Cranston replies coolly. "Isn't that your job?"
"Not today," Jerald admits. "You are the one picking each of these boys and girls this year. You are showing your face the entire time, for each district. High profiles need to be maintained. Caelan will reassert that in your brain plenty of times today, keep that in mind."
"I never forget it."
"You ready?"
"No. Never will be."
The Head Gamemaker sighs to himself, standing up and deciding what his job will be for the day. He walks around to Cranston, clamping him on the shoulders. The touch is sensitive, and the victor has the instinct to punch the man in the face. "Cranston, don't be like this. I know that what you have been through was hell, but that is a chapter in your life filed away. We won't resurface it unless you need it to be. You're too good for this. We're all too good for this. Come on."
Cranston nods solemnly, although his heart aches, his brain hurts, and he wishes to cry all over. Jerald exits the apartment, jingling a pair of keys. The victor lowers his head even more, curled up into a ball. Rocking back and forth, he silently assures him this one thing.
"I'm not there. I'm not fighting anyone. No more Jake, no more Opal, no more anyone. It'll be just me in that viewing center. I'll be okay. I AM Okay." he whispers. Standing, he sniffles, each step to the door hesitant and unsure.
If there was one thing that was certain, whether it be Cranston's sanity or his confidence, the 2nd Hunger Games was about to begin. And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
There we are everyone, my first chapter of my first ever SYOT. Originally, Death Under the Sky was designed to be a sequel to Capitol's Strike like this indeed is, but I already had my own OC cast created. But, backtracking and realizing that I wanted to see how this could go, I decided to keep those characters on hold and try an SYOT instead. So, here we are. Death Under the Sky. And I'm super, SUPER excited.
First thing is first. Tribute submission can only be done by PM's, no reviews of tribute submissions will be accepted as that is breaking one of the guideline rules. This is a submit till due date, so no first come, first serve. Submission is open from November 28th until December 31st. The real 1st chapter, the District One reaping will be posted a week from there. Here is what must be included-
Name (First and Last)
District
Age
Gender
Appearance (General description required, but detail would be preferable)
Family (Same for the ones prior, minus District)
Personality (Be specific)
Weaknesses (A minimum of three- be specific)
Strengths (A minimum of three- be specific)
Weapon of Choice
Reaping Reaction if Reaped
Would this tribute volunteer?
Token
Private Gamemaker Session
Preferred Range of Training Score
Any Allies?
Preferable Placement
Cause of Death
I, right now, need a male from District 7, another female for District 10, both for District 11, and a male for District 12
If the tribute you submit is already being used in another SYOT, you may not resubmit that same tribute as that will be unfair to the author of the other SYOT. If the SYOT you submitted to has been discontinued, that is a different story, and can reuse that tribute. Everything else needs to be original.
Now, when it comes to submitters, if I pick your tribute, reviews would be generally appreciated. Hard to know if you like the story without some precursor to it. Ones that make themselves prevalent are who I prefer, but all do get a fair shot at winning. Even a simple "Good job." when referring to the chapter posted lets me know, and I will gladly let you know how happy I am. At the end of the day, I am not looking for the highest review count, but the best tributes around.
The stats for submissions, broken down by district, is on my profile, 2nd section of my profile. It is each district, number of male submissions, number of female submissions per district. Then, total number of submissions, total number of male submissions, and total number of female submissions. Starting date for submissions, final date for submissions, and how many days until deadline. The criteria for submission will also be on my profile as well, under that in a separate section.
Thank you so much you guys, and it'll be near a month till I see you next, so thanks for participating. I am excited to get this on the way and I want to thank you all for making writing so much fun. I know that this SYOT will be a blast, and I promise I'll get through the entire thing, as it as a curse of SYOTS to sometimes never be finished, but my work will get finished. I love you all, and see you on the flipside. May the odds be ever in your favor, ladies and gentlemen. Bye!
~ Paradigm