Warning: This story contains pervasive, sometimes sadistic, violence, torture, vulgar, sometimes demeaning, language, sexual themes, nudity, sexual assault, drug use, and some other elements that some might find disturbing. There will be no other warnings besides this one. The thoughts and actions of these characters do not reflect my beliefs and morality. All these characters are products of my imagination. The world of The Hunger Games is owned by Suzanne Collins.
The room was plain and dull. White on white that almost seemed blinding. Some might have said that it was serene in an isolated kind of way.
However, in the room was a naked and puzzled dark skinned boy who had just recently gotten jolted awake and had just gotten to his feet. The two peacekeepers that were in front of him blended into the room with their pristine white uniforms. The one thing that stood out from them, however, was the weapons they were holding in their hands. Deadly black rifles that contrasted greatly from the bright background.
"You can't do this!" The naked boy shouted to the peacekeepers who were escorting, sometimes shoving, him to the launch tube. "It isn't fair! It's against the rule-"
His protests were silenced as the stock of one of the peacekeepers rifles stuck him in the face. Oliver from District Eleven then felt pain ripple throughout his entire mouth as he stumbled backwards and groaned loudly as he cupped his mouth with a single hand. And though it felt like his teeth had been knocked out, none had. However, he did feel hot liquid seep onto his hand and knew instantly that it was blood as his lips had been split open.
"All is fair in war!" The peacekeeper who had stuck him yelled back before motioning his rifle towards something that Oliver couldn't see. "Now quit your bitching and put on your arena clothes!"
"But we haven't-" Oliver started to protest before he was struck by the butt stock of the rifle once more, this time in the side of the face, causing him to once again stagger to the side. It felt as if his left cheekbone had been shattered.
"Do as you're damn well told!" The peacekeeper ordered harshly. "Or do you want some more?"
Even though Oliver was a good six feet tall and stocky, he felt that mouthing off some more would only lead to more torment. So while he felt like talking back, he kept his mouth shut and turned his head towards where the peacekeeper had motioned to before. But not before tisking and shooting off a glare.
From there, in the middle of the room, just beside the launch tube with it's clear, see through glass, was a flawless and rectangular table. Like the launch tube, it's top was made of clear glass, but it's legs and frame were of black metal.
Oliver walked towards the table to scan the items that were on it. Laid out immaculately were some articles of clothing. Some he recognized, such as the plain black boots, simple black cotton socks, basic brown pants, and the thin, apple red jacket with the number eleven stencilled on the back in large font. However, what he didn't recognize were the weird looking, long sleeve shirt and long underwear type garments. They were a little fuzzy looking and looked like something you'd use for a cold day.
Picking up the odd shirt, Oliver rubbed the fabric between his fingers and they indeed felt soft and insulated.
"Thermal shirt and underwear." The second peacekeeper, the one that had yet to hurt him in anyway, explained to him. "Good for cold weather temperatures. And trust me, kid, you're going to need them. Unless you're one of those freaks that gets a hard on when in misery."
Oliver turned to the peacekeeper and gave him the only kind of defiance that he could think of doing in this situation. He glared and glared hard. It only got the peacekeepers to chuckle in amusement before Oliver wiped his split lips on his arm, leaving behind a thin trail of blood before he started to put them on, not wanting to go into the arena stark naked.
When he had woken up, he had wondered where he was and what he was doing in a room of nothing but white. And just as he was wondering where his clothes were, he found himself being screamed at by the two peacekeepers that had escorted him. They yelled at him to get on his feet and start moving.
Not knowing what was going on, Oliver asked what the hell was going and he was told to shut his mouth and move. He was then shoved in the direction the peacekeepers wanted to to go to.
He asked where his clothes were, and he was told, once again, to keep his mouth shut.
As Oliver dressed, he started to remember the events that had occurred before he arrived in the white room with the two peacekeepers.
He had gone to bed after comforting his youngest sister the night before her first reaping, telling her that the chances of her being reaped were slim to none and that there would be nothing for her to worry about. Even with the tesserae that she had signed for. Not with all the other slips from all the other kids and their tesserae. She was still scared, however, and he couldn't blame her, it was the first time she had her name in the reaping bowl and everyone felt nervous every time that dreaded day came. And all Oliver could think of was that those nerves, that feeling of dread, grew more and more every year as you were more likely to be picked.
Oliver managed to comfort her enough before he headed to his room, finding it hard to sleep before the big day himself, but managed to do so anyway.
And that was all he remembered. He didn't remember being reaped or anything, so imagine his shock when he awoke and found himself being confronted by two peacekeepers. He could only think that he had been kidnapped. And assholes as they were, not even the peacekeepers were allowed to to that without a reason, and Oliver saw no reason why they'd kidnap him.
But... I think I know the reason. Oliver thought as his trembling hands made it a little more difficult for him to zip up the jacket.
Once that was done, he heard the first peacekeeper bark out more orders to him.
"Step onto the launch pad."
Oliver looked to the launch tube and as soon as he was inside, the door, which was also made of clear glass, closed behind him almost silently, save for a small hiss of air that alerted him to what was happening.
Turning around in surprise, Oliver pressed his hands on the glass and found himself separated from the two peacekeepers, who were looking at him with a looks that were stoic, but eyes that were hard and cold as stone.
Now he was trapped with no way to escape, and that only made his level of fear rise.
The peacekeeper tapped his finger on the glass. "Can you hear me?" He asked, to which Oliver only could nod. "Excellent. Then you'll be hearing this speech made for you by Madam President Vira herself."
The peacekeeper then, with one hand still on his weapon, fished around in his breast pocket before pulling out a piece of paper, unfolding it with one hand before shaking it out as straight as he could and clearing his throat. "To, Tribute Oliver, District Eleven, you have been selected to participate in this year's annual Hunger Games, the ninth quarter quell-"
"How the fuck was I selected?" Oliver shouted to the peacekeeper as he banged his fist on the glass, accomplishing nothing but making some muffled noise and hurting his hand. "There wasn't even a reaping!"
The peacekeeper only shot him a moment's glance before he continued as if nothing had interrupted him. "Or the two hundred and twenty fifth annual Hunger Games." Oliver continued to shout and bang his fists, demanding answers, but the peacekeeper kept on continuing the speech. "As you hopefully heard six months ago, the quell was as follows; To remind the districts that the war they instigated was a civil war, they will be fighting against each other as they had done during The Dark Days. It means that, in simple terms, it'll be you and your outlier districts verses, as you call them, careers. And, as for what you've more than likely thought of as this is being read to you, is the question of why you're here right now, with no reaping, no train ride, no chariot ride, and no training days."
That got Oliver's attention and he stopped creating a ruckus to listen in to what President Vira had written. "The war between The Capitol, it's supporting districts, and those that opposed them, came out of nowhere. Just as those of the past were unprepared when the storm of war came by unexpectedly, you too, will experience their shock. You will experience how ill-equipped they were to handle the situation that was dealt to them. Ready? Not ready? Trained? Not trained? Strong? Weak? Young? Old? Uninjured? Injured? Healthy? Sick? Man? Woman? War does not take into consideration anything you perceive as fair, and neither shall I. You may think of us as monsters, but just remember who ignited the fire that threatened to burn Panem to the ground and scatter it's ashes. Win this war of your's, and maybe you and your allies can go home and think about it. Best of luck, Tribute Oliver, and may the odds be ever in your favour."
The peacekeeper then folded the paper as neatly as he could before stuffing it back into his breast pocket. "What a lovely speech. Makes you feel special, doesn't it? President Vira put a lot of work writing this just for you, so I hoped you paid special attention to it."
"How'd you get me?" Oliver asked, not giving a damn about the president's speech about war and the guilt trip it was supposed to put into him. All he wanted to know now was how they got him, in his home, in his district.
Did his family know? Did they know he was going to participate in this year's game, or did they think he simply vanished without a trace? Did they see him get kidnapped? And if so, did they try to stop it? Did something happen to them? "How the fuck did you bring me here? If you laid a hand on my family I will kill you!"
It was then that the peacekeeper looked at him for a second before smirking and leaning his head back a little in order to seemingly look down on him.
"If I were you kid, I'd focus more on the present and future than needless trivia." The peacekeeper then placed his free hand to his helmet chin strap. "Because you know what they say about war?" The peacekeeper then unclipped the chin strap and let it fall to the floor with a hollow clunk. It was then that Oliver saw something wrong with the top side of the peacekeeper's head. Instead of flesh and hair, it was replaced by what appeared to be steel. Hard and dull metallic. As if his skull was metal instead of bone. "War is hell."
Then with a jolt, the tube Oliver was in shook for just a moment before he felt and saw himself being lifted up above the peacekeepers. He continued to look at the smirking peacekeeper with the steel in his head before he disappeared behind a wall.
At once, Oliver felt himself shaking. The nerves finally got to him as he thought of how, no matter how he sliced it, he was doing into The Hunger Games. Into the arena. A place where life and death constantly held hands and could be parted in a second at any time.
Calm down, Oliver. He told himself as he got closer and closer to the bloodbath, wanting to calm himself before the bloodbath. Calm down. You've got this. Yes. You've got this. It's us verses those career fucks. There's eighteen of us and only six of them. We've got strength in numbers. Yes. Yes. We can do it. They team up all the time and dominate the arena. Well, now it's our turn! So bring it on! We'll massacre them in the bloodbath and be home in no time!
Oliver was feeling confident. More confident than he ever thought he'd be feeling if he had ever gotten reaped. But this was a special case. This time, they wouldn't be the prey. The hunted. They'd be the predators. The hunters. The bloodbath was not a place to run and split up like a bunch of rats, but a place to fight and kill like a proper alliance. They'd be like the careers were every year before this, but three times bigger. They had this. They had this!
But once Oliver saw the arena come into view, his confidence fell as he looked on in horror at what was in front of him. Nothing but black and white in all it's fury. A seemingly barren wasteland filled with snow pelted trees, snow that blew everywhere, and howling winds. The area was filled with dim light, making it so that while you could see well enough, it wasn't preferable or optimistic. In fact, it looked ominous. Sinister. Even the trees seemed to be hissing at him in an antagonistic manner.
Oliver looked around and couldn't see anyone else around him, so he didn't know if they were even there or not.
It only got worse as the launch tube opened, exposing him to the elements and the cold in all it's fury. The chill hit him like a flurry if child like fists as it felt as if soft ice was being pounded on his exposed face and hands. But even the clothes he was wearing seemed inadequate for such weather. And because he was from District Eleven, a hot and humid district, the sudden climate change came as a shock to his body.
Oliver didn't want to move and expose himself even more to the harsh environment, but then an electronic voice spoke to him from within the sheltering tube.
"Please exit the launch tube." It instructed to him. "If you do not comply, you will die and be ejected from the game. You have five seconds."
It took Oliver two seconds to process the fact that he had to leave the tube. Another second realize that he was going to be leaving his shelter and going into the heart of the storm. And another second to dive out of the tube, realizing that there wasn't a lot of time to spare.
Landing in the soft snow and sinking into it with a grunt, Oliver felt himself being pelted with snow and wind and cold as he was slowly being covered in snowflakes. His face and hands, being uncovered being directly in the snow began to become agonized.
As quickly as he could, Oliver scrambled to his feet, sending soft snow everywhere before he started to rub his hands in order to get them warm. He then started breathing on them, feeling the warmth of his breath uselessly warm his hands for less than a second before they became cold again.
He desperately searched for pockets within his jacket and found some at stomach level that he could place them in, readily shoving them in. They didn't do a thing about the freezing temperature, but at least it kept some of the wind and snow off.
Already shivering and finding more and more of his body covered in the cold white powder as snot ran down his nose, Oliver ran around looking for the cornucopia. He hoped to find clothes that could keep him from freezing to death. Then he wanted weapons and allies. But even as he ran, he couldn't find anything resembling the golden horn. He found no supplies and no persons around.
With confusion and most of his confidence shattered, Oliver ran, looking for shelter of any kind as a way to get out of the miserable weather.
Careers verses non-careers.
That was the thought running through District Seven's female tribute as she ran through the snow capped wasteland looking for allies to group up with. And though the clothes weren't exactly what she'd have chosen for such an environment, Juniper felt more at home than anything else, bar the fact that it was freezing cold instead of the nice weather that he had at home in the moment. And the fact that she was in the arena. But the trees and the snow were nothing new to her and she felt as if that gave her an advantage over the careers.
The careers were used to everything being comfortable, as was evident in the previous games when they had near all the supplies from the cornucopia.
If this were a normal game, they'd have weapons, warm clothing, a winter tent, and everything that they'd need to keep warm and comfortable. She told herself. But for whatever reason, there's no cornucopia and no bloodbath. Now we've got numbers and they're out of luck in the supply department. It brought a smile to her face as she trekked the harsh winter wonderland, wishing that she also had some more supplies and could meet up with her fellow non-careers, but figured that the careers were hurting more than she was, and that got her to smile even wider. Sucks to be those assholes.
She wondered what the gamemakers were thinking when they decided to not include a bloodbath and separate every tribute from each other, but didn't dwell on it for too long as it kept her alive for a little bit longer. No doubt that if there had been a bloodbath she would have been one of the prime targets for the careers.
Tall and Muscular from working the fields back home, lugging about bits of tree to and fro as well as being seventeen years of age, she was from one of the most feared non-career districts and knew that she'd be a key member in taking down the career pack. They should be afraid. Juniper thought with glee. They should be very afraid. For this won't be their year and they know it.
Pulling the draw strings of her jacket even tighter, thus preventing snow from blowing down the side of her face, protecting her ears and the back of her neck, before rubbing her hands together for a little bit to create some friction generated heat. She followed that up by forming a right fist, cupped her left hand under it, created a small hole in the right fist, then breathed some of her hot breath into the fist, warming up both her hands at once.
She was glad to not be going into the arena naked, like she had feared when she had woken up and got brought to her senses.
The jacket may have been thin, but it shielded her from the worst of the wind and it was designed to repel moisture, keeping the body and the clothes underneath dry. Good thing as well, as she doubted that the thermal clothing would have been as effective if they had became damp.
Yes. Even though it reminded her of home and she was more in her element than some others, it was still too fucking cold for her exposed hands, but she had ways to keep them from locking up and feeling the dreaded pins and needles in them. Just keep them moving. Juniper told herself. Nothing's more useless than hands that won't move. Well... Except feet. Nothing is worse than cold feet.
For her, the boots were good enough for now, but if she didn't find anything better, soon her feet would become cold and still, and she knew that it was a bitch to warm up again. She remembered having to place her feet in front of a hot fire for nearly an hour one time before she could even stand to start moving them again. She had learned her lesson the hard way then and listened to her parents when they told her to put better socks on.
Sighing, she could just hear her parents giving her advice. Get some gloves. Get better boots. Get better socks. Get a better jacket, or at least something more to put underneath that jacket. Get something to cover your face. Keep moving.
She wanted to do all that, but the best she could do was keep on moving and keep the blood circulating.
I wonder if the gamemakers anticipated us freezing to death. Haven't seen shelter for a while. Or do they really expect us to make shelter out of the snow or live up in the trees?
Juniper didn't know, but there had to be some kind of shelter, clothes, and weapons around. Unless The Capitol was feeling extra sadistic this year and just wanted nothing more than to see tributes suffer. But she doubted it, for if they wanted that, they'd save it for a non-quell year. There's got to be shelter somewhere. Juniper rationalized as she continued heading forwards.
As she did, she wondered how her allies were fairing. Some of them were from hotter climates. Some of them weren't used to the cold temperatures that they currently resided in, and that made her wonder how long they'd last. Hopefully long enough to help bring the careers down so they could be sent home and recover from the chill.
As for the careers, they could get frost bite and lose their limbs for all she cared.
Juniper kept on walking, hoping to find another person or a shelter when she saw a figure up ahead.
Not knowing if they were enemy or ally, the girl hid behind a tree and peeked around. From the flurry of snow whipping by due to the wind, she couldn't see them very well from the distance they were, but as more and more features became clear, she knew that it was an enemy. They were of large frame, didn't seem to be taking the cold very well, and were wearing a red jacket.
In previous Hunger Games, The Capitol either choose to assign colours to specific districts, or had them all wearing the same thing at the start. This was clearly one of those years where every district was assigned a colour. From what she gathered, her district, District Seven, was assigned forest green, while District Two, like usual, was given red.
A career? This early in the game? Weaponless and helpless? This is too good to be true!
Juniper peeked out from her cover and saw that it wasn't a figment of her imagination. It was real! What's more? The career didn't seem to see her. They were too focused on trying to keep warm. Discombobulated from being out of their element.
Smiling, Juniper looked around for a weapon that she could use before finding something that suited her fancy. Above her was a tree branch, one that was thick and sturdy. One that was perfect for bludgeoning.
The wind was blowing to the side and away from the career, so it would help cover up the noise she was going to make.
Jumping up and grabbing hold of it, Juniper pulled herself up high, then brought all of her weight down, causing the branch to snap a little. She then lifted herself up and brought her full weight down again, causing it to snap again. She repeated it until the branch had snapped from the truck and she was carrying a thick, staff like weapon.
Worried that the career heard the snaps, she peeked from her cover again, to see that the career was still walking towards her, desperately trying to warm up their hands.
It was perfect. Too perfect.
She waited behind her tree and waited.
Soon, she heard the career's loud shivers. Soon after that, she saw the career come into view. That's when she swung the broken branch back as far as she could before swinging it towards the career as hard as she could, making sure to move her body with the stick in a fluid motion.
CRACK!
The sound of the branch striking the career in the face was heard as the career howled. They staggered backwards and held their face. Juniper took this opportunity to swing the branch back again and strike the career again at full power. It hit their hands and face at the same time, causing them to scream even more.
"How do you like it?" Juniper yelled to the career, thinking of how the tables had turned and they were now the victim of the game as she jabbed them in the chest with the tip of the branch. The career bent forwards a little bit as they clutched their chest. "How do you like it you fuck?"
As if to express the content that she and all the other non-careers felt for their kind, Juniper reeled her leg back and kicked the career squarely in the crotch. It caused him to howl. Figuring that he deserved it, Juniper kicked him in the crotch again and again, making him think about what it was like for a non-career in any other game.
When the boy finally fell to his knees, Juniper took a step to the side, winded up her branch, spun it around in little circles, then with an uppercut strike, smashed the branch into their jaw, causing them to collapse into the snow.
Bloody teeth flew from their mouth and Juniper spotted the blood pouring from their mouth as they screamed.
Juniper then walked up to the side of the career and stomped on their right arm, forcing it to the ground and into the snow. Their dark hand had lost colour and she rationalized that because of the cold and lack of protection they were feeling pins and needles and her boot was only giving them more pain. Good. She thought as she savagely scrapped the sole of her boot across their arm until it reached their bare hand. That's when she started to grind her heel into their hand, causing the career to scream even more.
She then raised her branch above her head and started to beat in the career's head and chest in. As she did, the career raised their free hand to try and block her blows.
"Wait! Wait!" He screamed as more of his mouth was becoming bloody and some of his facial skin was being split open. "Stop! Stop!"
"Stop?" Juniper asked in an almost mocking tone before she brought the branch down on his ribs once more. "Why?" Another blow to the face. Then with seriousness in her voice she spoke to him. "Did your kind ever stop when a non-career begged for mercy?"
She then hit him in the side of the head once again.
"I'm not a career!" The career desperately screamed. Blood flying from their mouth as they spoke. "I'm not a career!"
Whack! Her stick hit him in the mouth again, causing blood to spray out and stain the snow. It stopped him from talking as she screamed.
"Shut it!"
Juniper stepped off the career's hand, to which the career rolled over onto his knees and started to cradle it before Juniper kicked the career in the gut, causing air to rush from his lungs and for him to roll and fall onto his back again. "How does it feel being helpless? Not so great is it? Well just like you bastards, I'm going to make it so much worse! Give me your clothes!"
"What?" The career muttered before she brought the branch down on his groin. The career squealed in agony.
"Give me your god damn clothes! Right fucking now! Or do you want another?" She emphasized her threat by raising the branch above her head.
"No! No!" The career pleaded before he started to remove his jacket. "Take them! Take them! Just... No more! No more!"
The career removed all his clothing, and Juniper securely tied them around her waist.
The career, now naked, shivering, and losing what dignity he once held, looked absolutely pitiful to Juniper, but she still had plans for him. Her hatred for them burned so strongly that she wasn't even feeling cold at the moment. "I did as you asked! Now please! Let me go!"
"Stand up and turn around!" Juniper ordered. The career did so, and as he did, Juniper grabbed at the side of the branch she was carrying and tore some of the tree bark off it in a large chunk. "Be grateful I don't tear those baby balls of yours off!"
Without warning, Juniper kicked the career in the balls again and the career fell onto his knees once again. Juniper kicked him in the back, pushing his face into the snow. With his bare ass up and facing her, Juniper found her target, and without anything protecting it, she shoved the rough and pointed chunk of tree bark into the career's asshole. The career screamed and Juniper only made him sing louder as she brutally, mercilessly, kicked the tree bark deeper into his rectum.
The career clutched at his ass as he rolled back and forth in the snow. Juniper saw the blood that was staining the snow and saw that it was coming from his asshole. "That's a message for you and your career friends!" Juniper shouted to him. "This is our year! Our arena! Do not! Fuck! With us!"
Juniper then dropped the branch and walked away with a smile on her face.
All the while, Oliver of District Eleven, was feeling more pain than he had ever felt in his life and felt as if he were going to die from the elements. All because someone thought that he was a career.