The twelve districts of Panem were still recovering from the disaster of the war. District 13 had been completely destroyed by the power that called itself the Capital. The Capital's new law enforcement soldiers, known as Peacekeepers, infiltrated through the districts. They were mean, always looking down their noses at the citizens, brandishing their shiny guns. Weveral people had been killed within the first several days of their occupancy; after the deaths and multiple beatings, people only coward when the crisp white uniforms came in to view.
Several weeks after the cruel treatments began, a special announcement was sent to all of the districts. The Capital's leader, the president of Panem, Henrik Fox, appeared on television screens nationwide.
"Hello, citizens of Panem," he began, smiling winningly at the camera. "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Henrik Fox, and I am the new President of Panem. It has come to my attention that my law enforcers have been less than pleasant to you. For that, I give my sincerest apologies, and as repentance, I would like to invite some of you to the Capital to participate in a new, annual event. In the next several weeks, I will be coming to each district and two children, a boy and a girl, from each district between the ages of twelve and eighteen, will be chosen to participate in this special event. And, to increase some opportunities that would be otherwise lost for the older children, thirteen year olds may enter their name twice, fourteen year olds three times, and so on. I hope that this will be a fair representation of the Captial's, and my own, feelings of the districts and what they rightfully deserve for fighting bravely but ultimately losing the war. Thank you." And then a strange anthem played as a demanding seal dominated the screen, and then they all went black.
Confusion followed. Many adults wondered what the real purpose of the Capital's "opportunity" was. The Capital had left all the districts to the mercy of their nasty Peacekeepers, and suddenly they were apologizing? Many were wary of the upcoming selections. Some believed it to be a true honor to be selected and they prayed it would be their child to be chosen.
After two weeks, the Capital had selected their twenty-four tributes, as they were called. District 1 had supplied Diamond Kortz and Shimmer Blacke. District two had shipped off Canto Strike and Mercy Grates. Electra Zen and Shock Anderson from District 3; Haven Kingston and Echo Delta from District 4; Pepper Currant and Cider Burche from District 5; Reese Proctor and Julius Stevens from District 6; Aralia and Flitch Oakame from District 7; Coir Jacques and Kevlar Behnke from District 8; Carrick Penton and Mhikele Maguire from District 9; Syrah Armagnac and Madeira Luccella from District 10; Piper Swift and Durum Wheton from District 11; and Honey Ginseng and Sorrell Dosa from District 12.
On the day that each pair of children were chosen, a great celebration took place. Henrik Fox traveled to every district and drew the names himself, excitedly shaking the hands of those picked. Even though Fox represented all the things that had made the Districts rebel in the first place, his easy manner convinced many of the wary that their children would truly have an important opportunity if they were chosen. The Districts eagerly sent the selected children on their way—what better for their children than to live for a couple of weeks in the wealthy city: the Capital?
Over all, two aged twelve, one aged thirteen, four aged fourteen, four aged fifteen, two aged sixteen, six aged seventeen, and five aged eighteen. For many of the tributes, the Capital was the first place that they had ever seen with a wealth that far surpassed the citizens need. As the long train pulled into the train station, the children stared out the windows in awe.
They were assaulted by camera crews as soon as the twenty-four tributes stepped onto the platform. Each and every one of them smiled wide and bright. Questions imploring their thoughts were fired as they crossed to the gilded doors of the Welcoming Office. Timid answers were given and they all flushed with all of the flattery.
A huge banquet hall housed the twenty-four tributes and they all ate their fill of delicious Capital delicacies, gorging themselves on the chocolate and fruit desserts.
Afterward they were all sent to a floor pertaining to their districts, and each settled into their own room, satisfied and positive that each would be the one to win. The next day would be training and then press conferences, and then the games. No one could have known that in only a few simple days, a blood bath would begin and only one winner would emerge—but only because the others would be dead.
Okay, this is my first Hunger Games fanfiction, and I like the idea of readers voting for tributes. So, I know there isn't a lot to go off of, but if you think that you'd read this fanfiction, please let me know which tribute you would vote for. Think of yourselves as Sponsors. And as the whole publicity thing goes up, you, ultimately, will be the ones to decide their fate. Let me know what you think. Thanks,
Steph